• Published 25th Jun 2012
  • 2,876 Views, 49 Comments

Growth - LimeAttack



Flowers grow and die, but with enough care and attention, they can learn to love, too.

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3
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My Rose

It all starts with me, as nothing more than a tiny seed, a shell waiting for me to grow and blossom into what destiny intended me to be. I can sense something warm, gentle, and kind guiding me into my blanket of protection. It will serve me well until I become ready to burst forth and take root in my earthly home. I can feel the smile in her face, the radiant beam almost as powerful as the warm sun. That same sun showers so much of its care upon myself and my compatriots alongside me. That single moment lifts me beyond anything, even the next period, a time of darkness.


Over time, I feel the sweet treatise of water coaxing me to grow more and more, the tender care of the mare showering it upon my home and giving the simple liquid the power to bring me closer and closer to the surface. Now, it’s time. In a flourish, I poke the tip of my stem above the soil, the tiny leaves marking my entrance into the world and taking in the glorious sunlight pouring down from above. No word beyond perfect describes this feeling. What the insects tell me is called a pony takes care of me, took care of me from the very beginning, and that pony gives me the chance to grow.


I still remember that day. Those little insects, they told me all about how the pony cuts flowers away from their plants and gives them to other ponies in exchange for some coins. I didn’t believe them, and I still don’t!


Rose - that’s what the insects say is on her body, I assume it represents her name - treats me kindly. She gives me the water, and I drink it and her love in greedily. Not once has she clipped one of my precious, precious flowers away! Each and every year, they become fertilized and my children grow inside the fruit that I so laboriously surround them with. I hope that they survive and grow to become beautiful rose plants of their own. It’s rather interesting, that the one taking care of me is called Rose.


This sensation is odd, beyond anything I can remember feeling ever before. Rose feels different. Her smile still carries that beautiful feeling of radiance and warmth, but something waits disastrously behind it. It feels cold and dark, like the pain of loss I feel every time one of my poor stalks must be removed to keep the rest of me from growing diseased multiplied many times over. Nothing gets me over the feeling that one very close to her withered, and I desire to reach out and comfort her. The feeling mystifies me. I never realized before how deep the attachment between us runs. I stretch out a tiny bit, reach my leaves and petals and stems, all of my being, toward her. She takes notice of my valiant stretch, and soon after that I feel a light brushing graze on one of my flowers, what I now know to be a kiss. My colors brighten, and I reach out to the sun, bathing in its glorious light, and grow a few inches that day alone.


After what seems like ages, Rose feels like her normal self again. I took up the habit of perfecting my ability to move myself, hoping to be able to make that pattern the insects keep talking about. Something special that happens and ponies that hold each other close share a certain shape, more often than not red in color. After getting them to prod me in the pattern, I begin my work.


With grueling drills strengthening my will and my body, my practice day in and day out begins to reach its close. After an entire year, and my buds sit arranged in the pattern.


She’s stunned! When my flowers bloomed, they took the shape of what I know to be a heart, a symbol of love and affection. I believe that her joy turned the heads of a few sunflowers, her radiance so bright it outstripped the sun in its decadent warmth. Even after I let the flowers fall back into their normal haphazard arrangement, she still feels a bit warmer than before, no matter what the occasion.


I hear it’s about to be cold again. I should be fine, though. Plenty of chilly seasons pass by with me coming out no worse for the wear. It will be just like the rest of them. Uneventful, with no flowers to tend. I suppose I’m left with time to consider the past.


It hurts so badly. I don’t even know why. One week, I’m just fine, but the next so many of my stems, so many of my leaves, they all burned with the fires of evil, while the rest of me felt as cool as ever. The insects do not understand. They paint out horrendous pictures of them being crushed or swatted away, having to fly back lazily and swerving the entire way. But this pain, this torment, this blistering agony feels like nothing I could’ve conceived. The soft timbre of Rose’s voice carries a normal tone of blissful ignorance while some unknown treachery plagues much of my body. Doesn’t she love me enough to carry me from this unbearable affliction?


I don’t know what happened. For some reason, the pain suddenly stopped. It’s not there anymore. But there’s a problem. I can’t feel where it was. I just know that the pain’s gone, but I don’t know what’s happening to the parts that were touched by that wretched torture. The weather’s a bit warmer now. I hope that I get those parts of me back.


The feeling came back to me today! I fear that the past winter may have been harsher than I thought. Rose clipped quite a few stems off, ones that had no feeling left in them whatsoever. I feel much cleaner now that the old and dead can make way for more growth.


There’s so much adoration around me! The insects say that more and more ponies visit Rose nowadays. They go in feeling rather odd, almost fearful. But then, they come back out, feeling much brighter, reassured. They also stop by me, to admire my flowers and pour their love. It’s nice, all this unbridled emotion. I make sure to move just a bit, almost as if waving, to acknowledge that I love them back. At least, that’s what I think this feeling is. It’s not pain nor joy nor sadness nor adoring - it’s something beyond anything I’ve ever felt before. Some of them get even happier, some even poke their muzzles into one of my flowers to take a whiff - I make sure to put out a bit extra smell, just for them.


The visiting stopped, for the most part. Rose comes out more frequently now, and she feels rejuvenated. I have a feeling that it’s been quite a long time since she first planted me into the ground. She goes about her rounds just a bit slower, just a bit more carefully. She still has that glorious beauty, even if I cannot see it. She’s also been talking quite a bit more recently. I never tire feeling her voice vibrate inside me. I haven’t been able to make out much of it other than her name and the emotion behind it. Even if I never understand the words she says, I’ll always love my Rose.


I’m still in shock. It’s just not possible. We’re moving. I can tell, because I’ve been put into a different piece of dirt, one that’s inside a restrictive container. The insects tell me that I’m the only plant she’s taking with her. But to be uprooted like I have, it’s left me feeling a bit empty.I’ll never be able to return to that garden, that special plot of land. Even if the small bit of soil where I was effectively born remains with me, I know that what I’m in now will be mixed in with the foreign dirt and other things wherever I may end up being.


Am I really me anymore? This new ground feels so odd, so wild, so dirty! It’s unclean, riddled with tiny rocks and the occasional bit of squishy, dead plants. I feel like I’ve been dropped into a cesspool of filth. Rose seems much happier, though. In fact, she seems positively radiant, as does the new pony she’s been bringing with her every day. I can tell that the new one is a male. I also can feel that Rose’s love grows immensely whenever he comes close. Unfortunately, he doesn’t feel the same to me as he does to her. His gaze, while appreciative, dismisses my presence as if I were just another piece of the environment and not a piece of Rose’s home. But then again, maybe I am just environment. After all, I’m no longer in my home. The area feels strange, and it certainly doesn’t have the same insects. These ones tell me about mindless things, like how good I smell or how much they loved another flower’s nectar. I feel like I’m just an object to these, and they certainly don’t tell me anything about this newcomer into Rose’s life and my own. I just don’t belong here. I think I’ll just wilt a bit, for now. Keeping everything tall and proud drains me.


She feels that way again. It’s been around a year since we’ve moved, and once again the pain and hurt she felt before comes to haunt. I laboriously reach myself out to her, and her hoof alights on my stem, stroking up toward a flower. She buries her head into my tangle of stems, and I do my best to make her feel comfortable and loved. I manage to tickle her nose slowly with one of my leaves, and she notices. I feel her sad voice transcend the gap between us, and I understand everything she says for a time after that. I know this pain. I’ve felt this pain. I weep with her, and understand her loss. It’s hard enough for me to lose a flower before it has a chance to become a fruit; I can only imagine what it would be like for a pony.


I learned a new emotion today. I felt it, from both Rose and her friend. I imagine it to be something like what I would feel if some of my leaves were taken from me by a passerby, something like being stolen from. They’re angry, and I don’t know what could possibly be wrong. They felt happy, joyous, loving, all of the bright emotions that made for growth and good life. Now, all of these dark emotions just make me want to wilt. They should be happy together, but they aren’t. Things should be different, but nothing I do will change them. I just watch as they tear themselves apart.


Rose’s friend still avoids the area. Ever since their fight, I haven’t felt him approach. It’s been long enough that Rose feels as bright and chipper as she normally does, and I’m happy for her. It makes my stems grow to see her bright light carry her through life.


I’ve noticed that Rose’s smile misses some of that luster it carried before. The amount of love stays the same, but the smile dims, and that spring in her step I feel every day begins to wear out. I hope she doesn’t wither. It would be such a horrible fate, to wither. Besides, I feel just as vibrant as ever! Surely ponies can just repair themselves in a snap. They can’t be that much different from plants, can they?


The friend finally came back today. I felt the apology before it came, even though I’m not really sure what exactly he said. Then they both stared at me, and sniffed some of my flowers, sharing with me their moment of bittersweet reconciliation and wistful remembrance. I wish I could share feelings with some of my children that way, if any of them are close by at all.


This winter lasted a bit longer than others. Rose seems to be a bit sicker. Her stops by my admittedly much larger area where I’m growing in keep falling in frequency. I do hope that she bounces back from this soon. Her radiance glows more beautifully than ever before. That’s a good sign, right?


Many, many ponies keep coming by today. I feel the same emotion, permuted dozens of different times, an emotion I’ve grown to dislike. They all feel as if they’ve lost something dear to them as well, but strangely enough I don’t feel Rose among the group. Where is she? I wonder if she’s okay?


It’s been a decade. I’m still waiting for Rose to come back, but she never has. The rain keeps me moist enough, but it doesn’t have that spark of love that made it special. The sun, brilliant as ever, shines over me every day, giving me the life-binding energy that I so desperately need. But I’ve lost another source of light. My Rose hasn’t returned. I thought she loved me. Why would she abandon me like that? Did I do something wrong? I really hope that she comes back someday, like how her friend came back. I would give my most beautiful flowers, my children, so that I could feel her blissful love on me again. It’s like the light just burned out. The only thing left for me is a patch of dirt where I wasn’t born, an area where I didn’t grow into myself, a sun that does nothing to light up the darkness where Rose used to shine, and rain that drips onto me without caring or love.


I know what happened now. It came to me a dozen years ago. She withered. My glorious, beautiful Rose withered away, just like so many others do. It’s no different than all of the plants I’ve felt grow and die around me. It’s no different from how I’m about to wither and die. I can feel it. The disease already has a grip of me; it’s just a matter of time until I’m nothing more than a loveless husk left on the ground to turn into food for the next cycle. Why is it, then, that I want to burn? I don’t want to go slowly anymore. I want the pain of holy fire to wipe me into ash, so that this pain, this emptiness can finally go away. Nothing can explain why I would want to be chained in the fires of bittersweet destruction, other than the fact that I loved a pony. I loved my Rose, and now I’m paying the price for it. The tortuous, drawn out, agonizing price. I do hope some of my children survived.


The insects stopped by again today. Even after so many generations, they still remember me. It’s heartwarming, to think that even with such short lifespans insects can pass along their knowledge and being into the next colony, and that they remembered me, of all plants, even taking their time to find me once again. It’s getting close, now.


I can feel myself going now. There’s not much more left of me that isn’t withering or withered. Maybe Rose can tend to me in her garden again. That would be such a treat. The insects came by again. They say my children are growing on her grave.

Comments ( 49 )

sleep will have to wait a tinsy winsy bit longer, because this! This!
My absolute fave pony, i mean.. just look at her, her colorscheme and style. Best pony.
Now i'll get to reading.

Edit: What the actual fuck. a story told from the perspective of a Rose bush? and im crying.
This is certainly a first.
Bravo!

There are times when I think the roses are sentient. I have two new bushes trying to come in - perfectly placed, symmetrically, in front of the brace of chaste trees (Vitex agnus-castus). I couldn't have done this better if I'd planted them there myself.

So this story carries just a little extra resonance with me.

I never thought of a story from the standpoint of a flower, until now. Excellent read, sir, excellent read.

805055 805385 805389

I take it that my first bit of sad writing worked, then! :pinkiehappy:

The thing is, I had this idea at such a random time and it wasn't originally going to be sad. But then, half a week later the idea was still there, so I wrote it. This is how it turned out!

Overall, I enjoyed this.
The first paragraph was well written; it is successful at conveying the tone of the story and setting up the mood that is carried on for the rest of the fic.
Although most of your writing flows nicely there were one or two clunky sentences; 'what the insects tell me is called a pony took care of me from my day one.' feels particularly awkward to me for some reason.
The idea itself is an interesting and original concept and I think that the stream of consciousness style of narration was particularly well suited to it. On the down side using first person narration for an inanimate object means that it does become a little confusing for the reader and difficult to workout what is actually happening in certain parts of the narrative, but this is balanced somewhat by the strong emotional connection between the rosebush and Roseluck (good job on that by the way, it really shines through as one of the strengths of the story).
The story is a bit heavy on telling rather than showing, but considering what I've already said about using an inanimate narrator I suspect that this would be rather hard to avoid.
Just as a brief editing note, you've got a word missing in the 9th paragraph: 'It hurts so badly. I don't even why'. I assume it was meant to be 'I don't even know why.'?
As a final note, I adore the last sentence of this story. Not only was it an excellent way to once again demonstrate the emotional connection between the plant and Roseluck, there was something about the sad sentiment of it that really struck a cord with me.

tl;dr = This was really good, keep on writing! :twilightsmile:

808075

I can't thank you enough for pointing out some of the grammar errors. Some of those are incredibly difficult to spot. :twilightblush: They're fixed, and I really agree on the telling bit. I may decide to rewrite this soon, and that will most certainly be the first thing on the list.

Oh my GOSH, I'm glad I read this. This story is awesomeamazingsuperfantazmal! :raritywink:

Only thing I saw that was kind of awkward was this sentence: Rose seems to be a bit sicker, and her stops by my, admittedly much larger, area where I’m growing in grow less frequent. The end of the sentence... I think it would be best if you didn't use grow so much. I got kinda confused when I read it, but that may just be my dumbness :pinkiecrazy:

Anyway, keep it up. I hope you get on EqD and everyone is crying and loving the crap out of this :ajsmug:

837974

Thanks very much for pointing that out. Heck, the structure confused me when I re-read it, and I know what I was trying to say! :twilightblush:

Just amazing. I still think I'm a sap but this did for me what My Little Dashie did (dont kill me) loved the stroy telling to, diferent it always better.:fluttercry:

838319 Here they come! also, congrats!

Found this on EQD- beautiful. It's so sad, but beautiful. Keep writing!

>"It’s hard enough for me to lose a flower before it has a chance to become a fruit; I can only imagine what it would be like for a pony."
Did you seriously... No. NO! Nobody deserves that! F*** You! F******** YOU!!!

That one part aside, this was an interesting viewpoint. The ending definitely made me sad. Overall an alright story.

Ah, inanimate object narration!:heart: One of my favorite - if rarely used - ways to tell a story. Simple, a bit stream-of-consciousness, and lots of emotion as a result. Usually, I see this type of storytelling with dolls (like The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane) or houses but this is the first time I've seen it done with a plant. Oh! No, wait, I have! The Family Tree actually does something similar with Applejack and a tree. It is heartbreaking as well, though I personally think you pulled it off better.
Stories from he POV of plants lend to the world of Pony nicely, since a flower would have more to relate to from an earth pony, who's naturally good with plants and whose special talent has to do with flowers in particular. Probably makes it easier to communicate and connect.

Aha, I was one of the few who caught this when it was first uploaded. Was that really only a week and a half ago? Yeesh.

Anyway, it's one of those stories that left me at a complete loss for anything worthwhile to say about it, so I just read and ran before. And I still have nothing relevant to say! So I guess I'll just toss out a generic congrats on the Equestria Daily post.

Wow, this was a really great story! You could feel the rose moving in her own time to return the love that came from Rose.

I leave to go sleep, then come back to 27 notifications. Well, I'm really glad that you guys like it!

I really loved the story, and I know what I was supposed to feel, but after reading the orginal "Giving Tree" this felt more like a nostalgic Deja Vu feeling than sad. Which is still something to be proud of as far as I'm concerned.

I loved this story, it was great! :pinkiehappy: Good job!

Bucking glorious! :rainbowdetermined2:
this is definitely in my top 20, and considering the sheer number of fic's i've read that's a bloody honor.

Therefore: MOAR!

866629

But it's a one-shot...

866633
MOAR FICS THEN!

MOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAR :flutterrage:

That was beautiful. :fluttercry: I didn't expect such a strong emotional connection between Roseluck and her plant to be expressed BY the the plant itself, but that made the story incredibly awesome. It was unique, at least to me it was, and I honestly didn't mind reading from the standpoint of something as limited as a rose. :twilightsmile:

The ending was truly meaningful and filled with da sad, you nailed that. I never truly realized just how much time was passing by until that 8th to last paragraph. The use of "spring in her step" was a good hint, since I about always equate it to aging. That honestly surprised me. :rainbowlaugh: My first thoughts were that something bad was going to happen to the rosebush, like it being cut down or burning.

I loved every word of this, and I can't wait to read more from you! :twilightsmile:

Aww... :fluttershysad: This story is great. :raritywink: It'll definitely goes in to my special collection. :pinkiehappy:

By the way. If you ask me, this would be a way better cover picture for a story like this. :)

fc07.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/126/5/8/rose_by_subjectnumber2394-d4ypm50.jpg

876433

Funny story is that I actually have that image and didn't think about it. Huh.

Never thought I'd read a story from the perspective of a flower, and by golly that was amazing. So sad, so sweet, and so beautiful. And I'm glad that it ended on a note of hope.

All of my tears. :')

So Flutteringshy finally got me to read this, and here are my thoughts should you wish to see them.

While this was rather well written, and unique being from the perspective of a rose bush of all things, I just felt no emotional connection in the story. Yes, the story was sad, but it didn't make me sad. I couldn't bring myself to care for it, even though the implications were tragic. Personally, there wasn't any time to bond with a character, but this is what happens when you write in portions like this, time skipping all the while, or when you write from a rose bush's point of view. Sad stories don't do as well when they're written in parts like this, in my opinion. I need to be able to bond with a character in order to feel the full brunt of loss, which I personally wasn't able to get from this.

Also, I have a heart of stone, so there's that. However, congratulations on your EqD feature!

888183

Before I know it the whole channel's going to have read this for that one reason...

But I am really glad for your feedback, because sometimes certain things people say can be more like drops in a bucket. I do promise, however, that I don't plan on writing stream-of-consciousness again until I can pull it off seamlessly. This one turned out well, but I would've liked it better (I would've liked it perfect, but we can all dream about some things).

Basically, thanks for the comment!

Woah...

All the feels. Great little story, really enjoyed that. :pinkiesmile:

You made me feel sad and emotional... for a flower.

h9.abload.de/img/citizen-kane-clapping3ny9c.gif

Beautiful, really.

Curious. I liked a lot of this very much, but one or two things just stop it short of excellence.

:ajbemused: Awkwardly long sentences. Many of those in the first paragraph could be halved, thus making smaller (and less clumsy) forms. For instance, "I can sense something warm, gentle, and kind guiding me into my blanket of protection that will serve me well until I become ready to burst forth and take root in my earthly home" could be turned into "I can sense something warm, gentle, and kind guiding me into my blanket of protection. It will serve me well until I become ready to burst forth and take root in my earthly home." You see the improvement, I hope?

:ajbemused: Very belaboured and vague in parts. I preferred the bits in which I could pick out clues as to what was going on between the flower and Roseluck, and I found myself skimming over sections in which the flower repeatedly affirms its love. This merely requires a little trimming, though, nothing drastic. Perhaps just cases of repetition should be cut.

:ajbemused: Caught out a little by the jumpy timeline. You need to work on smoothing your transitions, or make the seasonal change happen earlier, or something like that. I didn't even realize there were seasonal changes until I found myself thinking you needed a


at one point (it was around the time the plant goes into winter, I think).

:ajbemused: Death at the end. OK, I signed up for a sad fic and there's not a lot you can do about it now, but it veers a little towards the cliche and it felt a little manipulative. Plus, I don't think the grief really comes across well. Too much abstract telling about the price the plant pays, and whatnot, and there wasn't really a lot of space devoted to it.

Now, the cons out of the way, I think you deserve some pros too:

:pinkiehappy: Original premise, which is executed quite convincingly. It's a good example of some pretty unorthodox xenofiction, especially when you show how the plant gets its information about its surroundings. Very well done.

:pinkiehappy: The shifts from the plant enjoying Rose's company to worrying about her well-being and back. It's a great source of dramatic tension. This is one of the reasons I liked it when you dropped hints about what else is going on, as part of the fun was in reconstructing the events based on the clues you gave the plant (e.g. about being moved, about Rose's feelings, the strange stallion, etc.).

:pinkiehappy: The air of melancholy you build up. The first-person voice really sells it because it allows the reader direct access to the character's thoughts. For instance, it was done well before Rose's death was made explicit, thanks to some judicious usage of Dramatic Irony. There's probably also the changeling-esque character of the already-vulnerable flower, which makes its reactions to Rose's moods a little more interesting.

:pinkiehappy: It was the right length. There's not much you can expand upon with a sentient, even sapient flower, and it's best to make it short and sweet.

Overall, a neat effort. I'm adding this fic to my favourites. You've certainly earned it.

1261130

First of all, I always love comments like yours. It's much more fulfilling to have a comment that really does comment on the story, taking it and looking at it on a deeper level.

Secondly, I find it nigh impossible to address those cons in editing, more so because it's been more than two months since I wrote it than because it would be difficult. It goes to say that I've learned a fair bit more about writing since then, but have some other projects that are taking up most of my time. Needless to say, I still greatly appreciate you taking the time to give your two cents (although really, it's more like two dollars). I would also like to defend the death just a little—I didn't go into much detail because the plant, though self-aware, is still rather ignorant and took years to realize that she had actually died, something you mentioned a bit in one of the pros. I would definitely work on the more "meh" bits if I had the time and the same strong writerly connection to the work as I did when I wrote it and shortly after.

Finally, thank you. Even if I can't really make edits on the fic much at this point, I still appreciate knowing more about some of its downsides. Naturally, I also thank you for the fave and like and comment. I would also recommend some of my other work (except TSN) if you had the time, even considering that I have two exceptionally short one-shots that really deserved more.

I feel that I should leave this off with some sort of signature.

~LimeAttack

I hope you don't mind, but this fic is so sweet and touching I have done a little podcast reading of it.

2173865

Wow. Just... wow. There's having it read, and then there's this. I felt more emotion listening to the reading with all of the ambiance than I did when I originally wrote it. It also helps that it's been such a long time since I wrote it as well, but the point still stands. What you did is awesome. It's just plain awesome. I could hug you right now.

2175976

Aw. :twilightblush: I'm glad you like it. :heart:

What a superb story. One of the best stories I have ever read and, I believe, one of the worthiest and most meaningful ones on this site. I just love the idea of such a perspective...a pure, sentient photosynthetic organism trying to rationalise life around it, returning the love and care it receives however it can, eventually dealing with heavy loss and later on accepting it's own inevitable fate... A unique and magnificent tale.

These are the kind of stories I am looking for... Thank you for this. I really like the way you write such light, short, cleverly emotional fics! :twilightsmile:

I have also found that listening to this atmospheric theme makes reading this story a lot more enjoyable:

2419674

I'm more than a little dumbstruck. Really, thanks for that feedback. I honestly think you're giving me more credit than is really earned. I just wrote something, I mean, it's not like some other stories that are incredibly well thought-out and worked on for extended periods of time. I think that I wrote the story one day and edited it another. Seriously, it means a lot that you think so highly of it, but I really don't feel like I deserve it. :twilightblush:

2421241

Heh, I am sorry If I have put you in an awkward position, but I do mean it. Your story is original and wonderful. It is based on a very fresh idea and manages to be quite touching/meaningful despite its short length. Believe me, most strories on this site can't accomplish that much...

I did say though that these are the kind of stories I am looking for, so I suppose I could simply be praising it that much because it is my cup of tea... Nevertheless, it is a story I loved! :ajsmug:

Keep up the good work!

wow, I'm surprised I haven't taken the time to read this until now. I loved the perspective, and it was, at the risk of cliche, really well done. I especially appreciate the tasteful and non-invasive use of the sad tag, and the length was perfect.

Though, somehow, that last sentence agitated my allergies. My eye got all itchy and started tearing up.
Probably triggered some sort of misfired neurological synaptic connection that links together my knowledge of plants (like rosebushes) and pollen with my body's typical immunity response, resulting in a phantom reaction.
Seems like the only reasonable explanation

2858374

Naturally. It's not that hard for some people to have a reaction to something just by knowing that it's there. Kind of like the placebo effect but more of a negative thing in some cases, like allergies. :twilightsmile:

PresentPerfect
Author Interviewer

I listened to Scribbler's reading and I was very impressed with this. Good job telling a story from an alien perspective. :D

3267152
Well, thanks!

...I also just realized that this story is over a year old. Has it been that long...?

PresentPerfect
Author Interviewer

3272956
Time flies, lemme tell ya. :B

I'm too scared to read this in that it may in face be too sad. And no one will tell me what happens.

3432181

I would really call it bittersweet as opposed to completely sad. Either way, it's up to you if you read it or not.

I really like this one!
Thanks for writing this Fanfiction!

I officially declare I've seen all the unrequited ships by now. :rainbowkiss:

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