Catharsis
These… were turbulent times and Equestria was enduring the growing pains of sweeping justice reforms. Every day the papers were filled with headlines announcing some triumph, some great justice, some fantastic accomplishment, or some unjust old law being struck down. These… were optimistic times and Equestria, it was said, could look forward to a bright, prosperous future, even with uncertainty and war ever-looming on the horizon.
But for Cerulean Skies, the future seemed bleak indeed. Desperation was everywhere she looked, even the very architecture of the city radiated a suffocating sense of diminishment that left her hopeless and filled with despair. One brick apartment building looked exactly like the brick apartment building that was next to it, and whole rows of them dominated the skyline.
School was over, and she knew that. It wasn’t her being sulky, or a decision made while emotional, Cerulean knew that she couldn’t go back to school. After what had happened to her brother, she knew that it would be only a matter of time before something pushed her over the edge and she reacted. It would be irresponsible to go back to school, because something awful would happen. There would be no end of gossip about her brother and she would react.
Life was absurd and this was evidenced by the fact that right now, at this very moment, a trio of rats came around the corner of a building. Not just any rats, no, the big rats, the kind you heard stories about, the kind that walked around on two legs, talked, and terrorised Canterlot. She had heard stories when she had lived there, years ago, but had seen very little.
One of the rats had a sword, another had both a sword and a wand, and the third was carrying a crossbow of complex design. All three of them were sprinting, huffing and puffing, pushing and shoving one another along. Not a one of them paid Cerulean even the slightest bit of attention. Bipedal, they went running by and Cerulean wondered what would happen if she tried taking a shot at one. She’d either miss, and get herself killed, or hit one, and get herself killed.
Hooves rang out on the cobblestones as another trio rounded the corner, coming out from between two imposing apartment towers. This group wore masks, strange bird-like masks, with bright red eyes, and long, curved, pointed beaks. The one in the lead was the burliest pony that Cerulean had ever laid eyes upon, and he was covered from ear to hoof in body armor. How he moved with such speed and grace while encumbered by so much bulk, she did not know.
Trailing after the one in the lead were two wearing light armor, both rather slight of build. One was loaded down with gear, the other was limping somewhat, and trailing blood behind them. Cerulean watched with great interest as this trio pursued the rats, whose lead was rapidly shrinking. Even covered in armor, the first pony was fast like nothing that Cerulean had ever seen.
“YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!” a female voice shrieked. “WE’LL KILL YOU!”
As the pony in the lead closed the distance, he pulled something out from beneath his cloak, which trailed and flapped behind him. For a moment, Cerulean was confused about what it was, but when she heard the terrifying sound of a chainsaw sputtering to life, her confusion fled from her and she felt her blood run cold.
Was… somepony filming a movie?
The revving chainsaw now had a banshee wail and the trio of rats were motivated to run faster, but to no avail. In a straight run, the psychopath with the chainsaw was faster, and the rats were doomed… doomed. Frozen, all that Cerulean could do was watch as this horrorshow happened right in front of her eyes.
There was no more street to be had, not without turning; the three rats, rather than stopping or slowing down to turn, all of them lept over the rail and into the canal down below. The chainsaw wielding maniac didn’t even slow down and like a steeplechase racer, he too lept over the rail, the chainsaw still smoking and buzzing.
“Flicker, you dense motherfucker! Look out!”
“Piper, he’s gone! You know how single-minded he is!”
There was a distant splash, a plop sound, and the chainsaw went silent as the two remaining ponies also ran right for the rail. They too, did not stop, but lept right over the top of it. A second later, they were gone, having vanished from view, and Cerulean was alone. More splashing could be heard, and as curious as she was, Cerulean erred on the side of caution: she fled, willing her legs to move with all haste.
A short distance away, Cerulean found a city maintenance worksite. An empty chainsaw case was here, along with a somewhat rusty canister of fuel oil. Protective goggles lay on the ground, and there was a small wagon still filled with snips, shears, clippers, and canisters of pesticide with skulls and bones on them.
Of the maintenance worker, there was no sign, and Cerulean hoped that whomever they were, they were okay. She couldn’t imagine what it might have been like, trying to do one’s job, and then a bunch of masked weirdos chasing rats bent on world conquest just happened to go by. As she stood there, taking it all in, trying to cope with the absurd events and the horrible day, she noticed a can of spray paint sticking out of the cart.
Pegasus ponies and earth ponies had trouble with spray paint cans, but unicorns could use them, as could any creature with hands or hand-like appendages. It was a curious thing, something she had always been drawn to, something that was always fascinating to her for as long as she could remember. It was a funny thing, to put a picture in a can, or words, or a sign, or anything. Spray paint was liquid thought in a can, just waiting to come out and be given form.
When she bit down too hard upon her own lip, Cerulean cried out, because she hadn’t even been aware of biting her own lip. Tasting blood, she cast a sidelong glance around to see if anypony was watching. Was she alone? It appeared that way. This time, the temptation was just too strong, and Cerulean was too weak willed.
The heft and weight of the can was reassuring and there was something comforting about its weight. It was full, or nearly full, and when she shook it, she could feel the liquid sloshing around inside. Something inside this can rattled and for Cerulean, that made this can male, because she could shake its balls. Give it a shake, a squeeze, and it would go spurting everywhere, giving birth to thoughts, words, pictures; Cerulean rather liked this notion.
Timid, trembling, she approached a nearby wall. Which wall? It didn’t matter. All walls were the same. Walls were empty spaces begging to be filled. Blank purpose. A wide, flat womb waiting for some messy act of creation. Cerulean, who had never felt much in the way of sexual thrill in her life, was feeling it now. Mostly, sex was just disgusting, but this… this left butterflies in her stomach and every muscle in her legs quivered with some unknown, expectant sense of anticipation.
Lifting the can, she gave it a good shake, and then she held it aloft, high over her head. The first spurt of paint was electric, it startled her, and she almost dropped the can. In moments, she understood the basic workings, and could control the stream. One letter appeared, then another, and with each pass of the can, her control grew greater. The hairs of her tail clung to her sweaty backside, her sticky, clingy, unmentionable places, but she was far too lost in concentration to notice.
Something about the fumes left her giddy and lightheaded.
Cerulean had left behind a statement and a question. The Question. It had been bugging her all day and as she looked up at the words she had left behind, she felt better. Why, she almost felt hopeful. It was as if the stressful events of the day had been ejected along with the paint from the spray can.
Had Cerulean looked back, she might have noticed her new cutie mark, but she was too busy examining what she had done. There was a smile on her face now, and her optimism burned within her like a keen flame. It was a magical moment in the truest sense, because Cerulean had just connected with her destiny, her future. She had a way forward and the will to find a way. Her work here was done, and right now, she had a feeling that both of her parents needed her.
It was time to go home now that she had awakened and had achieved catharsis.
I get to be the Princess of Disillusionment and Disenfranchisement. But what about the rest of us?
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8635627
Hold that thought about Flicker Nicker!
Pretty sure that sums up Flicker's story.
Not sure how Moondancer is a proper character in this story. Frankly, this story ended... without ending.
8635703
Like I said, bathos.
8635671
a filly with an impulse to bore through things' heads cause she is pissed off at the world, while a deranged lunatic rat hunter came charging by with a chainsaw.
can't help but think she defied the call right then and there.
also did you decide to throw him into there on purpose or was it only after reading that comment? otherwise dat man just predicted dis somehow.
8635713
*Looks up Bathos*
Well don't I feel stupid...
8635718
Oh, this was up on the Discord quite some time ago.
Hmm. I'm not sure that I agree that there was an anticlimax. You could argue that there was a tonal shift, I suppose. But as a reader, I found that the run-through of Flicker et al accentuated the pathos of her situation, rather than detracting from it, in the way that a streak of green on a canvas draws attention to the fact that the rest of the canvas is red.
But that's just, like, my opinion, man.
8635736
Speaking as the writer, I wanted to convey two opposites.
Cerulean lets life happen to her. Right now, she doesn't know who she is, or what she does, or anything. Life is a sequence of events that she just sort of stumbles though. She has no purpose, no drive, she just likes playing the tuba. And art. She likes art.
Flicker, when he has his eyes on what he wants, he is the unstoppable locomotive. He has motivation and drive. So much so that it blinds him. He's in such a rush to accomplish stuff that he misses almost everything else along the way.
8635763
I must have seen too many art films. I thought that she was the audience surrogate, and that you were saying that for all our suffering, life is just a sequence of stumbling events. That was entirely me deriving the general from the specific, and frankly I'm glad this forum exists so that you may set right those who, as I did, read too much into it.
8635789
I am the author. I am dead.
8635795
Killed by an English teacher and a literary critic, no doubt.
8635797
Poor Cerulean. It's tough when you want to rebel, but have no idea what to rebel against. The monarchy seems entirely reasonable, they protect the country, do the right things, and Equestria is clearly experiencing profound socio-economic changes. But none of that seems to matter when life sucks and school is a total drag.
I find myself curious of the color of Cerulean's magic.
8635808
I see the results of this, in a microcosm, at my job. Every speech from the CEO (or other high ranking officers) is so positive, so unrelated to the reality of the average employee, that most assume that the upper management are all liars and, as they won't actually be held accountable for anything they say, anything that they say is essentially disregarded.
ANYWAY, I just wanted to say that I have now been mentally arguing about the validity of Death of the Author as a tool of literary criticism for more than a half hour now. Well done.
8635882
It matches her eyes, as with most ponies.
8635884
So, the zombie author has infected you.
Good, good!
Suddenly Flicker. And chainsaw.
8635897
her eye color is not to be found, are you sure its actually in there?
8635903
Art can set you free. Good for her.
okay, i just have this to say. these rats are starting to remind me of the skaven from warhammer.
8636113
http://villains.wikia.com/wiki/Rats_(Redwall_Series)
My deepest source of inspiration.
I liked this story a lot, because it shows how the major and even minor heroes of your MLP-verse look from the viewpoint of somepony who is basically normal -- maybe a bit smarter and braver than most, but not a world-shaking heroine. Moondancer is a secondary sort of character in vanilla canon, but to some poor misfit filly from the streets of Fillydelphia, she's a serious role model, and would be in part simply by association with Twilight Sparkle, who is almost a goddess.
I also liked when the (grown-up) Rat Catcher Trio showed up chasing the rat creatures and thus the high heroic weirdness briefly passed through Cerulean's own life. That was a nice way of reminding us that Cerulean, indeed, lives in the same world as both your heroes and Grogar's monstrous minions, (literally) for good and evil. (On the one hoof, Cerulean does live in a fantastic world. On the other hoof, she's lucky the rat-things weren't attacking her, because her Talent seems to be "spray-can grafitti artist," which has only incidental applications to combat situations).
I do think this story was funny -- darkly funny, and on a more earthy level than most of the black humor surrounding (say) Dim Dark and Blackbird's adventures. I hope we see Cerulean again some time, and I wish her well. Things may turn out better for her in the end than she now imagines.
8636208
I took a major risk writing a comedy about a potential school shooting scenario. I'm glad I did.
Thank you for the kind words, I'm glad that somebody found this funny.
I find myself wondering is this “again” or rather “still”? But I came to the conclusion that it doesn’t really matter. All that matters is Flicker
This is a good, thought provoking story. Well done
Well, I don't know what to think of the story, but overall, I liked it.
But, I still ask: What about the rest of us? Most ponies just want to get through the day and go on to the next one, and this story does an excellent job, I think, of either reminding or pointing out to us that the other principle protagonists we see are entirely and completely abnormal. Sure, they are maybe exciting individuals, and a lot of us aspire to be exciting ourselves because "excitement" is romanticized (which is to say it's overblown and overrated specifically sold it can be packaged and sold to us), but really, we're just confusing what we want with what we think we want.
I wouldn't mind being Bruce Wayne, but I do not want to be Batman.
8636127
A lot of high fantasy settings also have rat-men or were-rats who are the masters of hordes of more normal rats, though some of the latter may be rodents of unusual size. I think that goes back at least to Fritz Leiber, but it may be older than that: maybe German medieval myths?
So, her destiny is to be a philosophical graffiti artist?
8636550
She will be the MLP equivalent of Banksy.
8636634 There are worse things to be, I guess. Especially if you like doing it.
img00.deviantart.net/0d1b/i/2017/363/e/d/watrou_by_lynx318-dby7qib.jpg
Potential future Cerulean artwork via horn drilling technique maybe?
8636302
Gotta figure that there are plenty of Ceruleans around. If 1% of them crack and end up blasting through their school, that would surely let the rulers and the "heroes" know that everything not only isn't all right, something underneath the veneer of a functioning society is seriously wrong.
8637028
Ah, but the Royal Family already knows that something underneath the veneer of a functioning society is wrong. Why do you think all these reforms are happening at the same time? In short, it's because a bunch of things which appeared to be functioning broke all at once, and that chaos is the perfect flowerbed in which to plant seeds for something better: A kind of creative destruction.
8636550
There are worse fates. If she's smart she can turn this into an actual paying career, too -- and she seems fairly intelligent.
There might even be some esoteric combat applications to her Talent, too -- like chemical or incendiary warfare -- but I'm not sure she wants to do that.
Ironically, she might make a good Rat Catcher.
8637028
The reason why school shootings happen is that we have an educational system designed to turn children into 19th or at best 20th century farm and factory workers but the kids know these aren't the skills they need in the 21st century job market. The schools enforce conformity, but the Information Age culture we're building allows and indeed rewards considerable individuality. Also, the mass industrial schools have always been a poor fit for the smarter kids, and they were even ~ 1900.
We force kids to stay in school longer and longer to acquire higher and higher degrees which we water-down so they are less and less valuable. We load more and more work on them which is decreasingly useful for anything but the rote repetition of allegiance to the Received WIsdom.
It's not that surprising that some of the kids snap. And even many who don't snap rebel against the Received Wisdom -- and sometimes take their rebellions too far.
I least it's good to see Flicker's having a good time.
For fucks sake they are more and more turning into Skaven.
Also, screw you kudz, no kidding on the “ending will leave people mad”
Still, a good story nonetheless.
8651292
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Redwall
8637028
The Princesses are ALL too aware of the problems underlying Kudzu's Equestria. The push from the destruction that Mariner has caused, has lit a serious fire under Celestia to force more of these changes a lot quicker. The problem is that she can only do so much so fast with the resources and individuals she has. Just look at Kudzu's story about how Single Fathers are getting The Shaft as just one example. Not only that, but for the more entrenched and powerful ponies, you're going to need some serious evidence. Evidence which takes time and resources. The Princesses cannot be everywhere, and they cannot see everything.
For instance, the Princesses MIGHT suspect some of the damage done in Phillydelphia, but they have to weigh that against all of the Single Fathers. The Princesses cannot save everyone, so they have to carefully pick and choose their battles, in order to save the most ponies or to save those who can do the most. If you had the chance to save someone who would be a powerful war ally like Mr. Nicker who will save thousands or more ponies...compared to Cerulian who may at most save a few handful of ponies and is a gamble. How would you even go about getting information on all possible problems in all possible problem cities or schools, ESPECIALLY during a time of war?
Also, for the record, I think this is the PERFECT ending to this fanfic. It's not a happy ending....but our protagonist has found purpose. She is left in a MUCH better position than she was before, even after burdened with the knowledge of how terrible her family's finances are.
Poignant and incisive. Well done.
8659623
oi oi, mind telling me which of his many tales it is that's about fathers getting the short end? that's a topic of interest, and i'm curious to see his work on it.
8789020
- MLP: FiM
- Romance
- Drama
- Slice of Life
One morning, just before work, Copperquick finds a basket, a blanket, and a bundle of billsCheck the forums in the link. Help can be had there.
8789139
ahh! much obliged, you! Know that I'm flabbergasted by just how plentiful your stories are, and by the breadth of them!
8789151
That's because secretly Kudzu is not a human at all! He's secretly an advanced AI that works to create lots of pony fanfics during it's spare cycles!! XD
will we or do we see any of these ponies again?
This one was POWERFUL! It shows ponies in a situation many of us completely understand and shows the differences and similarities so starkly. I really hope we see little Cerulean again. With her new Mark... she is going to go far! What they need to do is just get all their paychecks, gather up all their things, and go to Ponyville. With her brother in the guard, they should have some spare money.
And god I just want to rip that teacher a new one. She is a failure as a teacher and worse, a failure as a Pie.
9058665
If all of the factory workers and whatnot left for Ponyville... what happens to Ponyville?
More importantly, what happens to Equestria's manufacturing sector?