An Australian Amateur Author, Alliteration Enthusiast
8w, 1dThere is hope. 4 comments · 73 views
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19w, 3dCynical Status Sunday (TM) 3 comments · 62 views
22w, 2dShort Stories 7 comments · 86 views
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31w, 3dThis is what happens when I plan on writing. 6 comments · 100 views
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37w, 6dIn other news 8 comments · 116 views
The smell of burning sulphur filled the air as the unicorn lit the last candle. The light of one should have been enough, but not for her. Burning wicks filled the tiny room as melted wax dribbled down the base of nearly two dozen candles of the purest white.
The almost sickly glow of the shrine smelled vaguely of lavender and roses, the strongly scented candles masking the usual acrid smell of smoke.
Rarity took a step back to admire the shrine to her true, unrequited love.
Oh, if only he could ever know my true feelings for him, Rarity mourned, so dashing, so courteous... My real Prince Charming...
Rarity broke from her usual internal monologue to fall to her, er, knees (elbows?) and wail as dramatically as she possibly could.
Rarity had a lot of practice at this, of course, her, erm, knees had practically worn grooves into the floor at this spot. So wailing dramatically as possible was quite dramatic indeed. If being dramatic were a kingdom she would definitely be one of the higher ranking monarchs. At least a duchess.
“Oh, why, why must our love never be, my sweet!” Rarity broke off to lock eyes with him, or at least as good of a portrait of him as she could hang in her Cupboard Of Unrequited Love.
“I know you would feel the same towards me, but alas! We are never to be! We are too different, the shame, the scandal, the judgement! Why, why must you make it so hard for me to not show my true feelings for you?"
The unicorn managed to polish some dust off the lone gem in the centre of the C.O.U.L, one gem too beautiful and precious to ever use on any dress, without looking up from the growing puddle on the wooden floor of her bedroom.
Magic was good for dramatic flourishes like that.
Rarity sighed as the puddle of tears before her finally grew deep enough to reflect one of the most dashing items of his that she happened to possess. There were so few stallions out there that could pull off facial hair, but he was no mere stallion...
“Oh, Spikey Wikey” Rarity caterwauled, gazing longingly at Spike's glorious mustache hung elegantly from the wall, or as elegantly as one can hang facial hair, “Why must our love never be?! Oh, it would be bliss at first but people would grow to stare, to curse us, to tear us apart merely for being pony and dragon and although I, oh I, my dear Spikey Wikey could look past that, what of the Canterlot Elite? The Princess! Why, even Twilight Sparkle would surely conspire against us!”
The heart shaped gem that she had worn was sitting upon its plush velvet perch in the centre of the C.O.U.L as always. Encased in its shimmering golden casing it caused the flickering candle light to dance off it from all angles. The small room was shimmering with a luscious, eerie red shifting sheen.
The beautiful display always reminded her that her affection could always be returned, in kind, would she let it, were they not-
“Sorry to interrupt your 'special alone time' Rarity,” Sweetie Belle dead-panned, head slumped in hoof, “I just need to grab my bag, promise. Then I'll be out of your mane-”
As fast as equinely possible.
Rarity's head snapped up with a scowl, still visible through the black veil she always wore when she got like this. At least she didn't have that dumb white gown on this time. Most of the time she was like this she always wore this frou-frou white lacy-
Oh, Luna... Not this again.
“Ooooouuuuuuuut!” Rarity hissed, horn and eyes flashing darkly. Sweetie could swear she saw the Heart gem flash to a much grimmer red but that was almost, most likely, definitely her imagination.
The filly quickly scooped up her small saddlebags, her sister's eyes boring into her the whole time, and galloped out of the room, away from that creepy shrine of hers.
Why can't my sister just come out of the closet like most normal ponies?
Oh, Spike, don't you see, they, they would keep us apart, they would never truly understand...
Sweetie ran as fast as her scrawny little legs would carry her.
“Man, Sisters sure are weird.”
“Shucks, Sweetie Belle, at least yours only has that dang closet. A.J has that whole 'Git-Outhouse' of hers dedicated to,” Apple Bloom gagged, “Her darlin' egghead.”
“Oh, surely such a sophist-a-macated. inta-lectcha-whatsit like Twilight would never go fer some plain ol' farm girl lah'k me...” Applebloom did her best imitation of her sister in one of her 'moods'.
“Yeah, well, at least Applejack doesn't have to get up in all that goofy, er, get-up!”
“Sweetie Belle... She sits in there and reads. Books. Books without pictures.”
They all fell silent.
“Wow,” Scootaloo said, simply. “Just, wow.”
"No pictures?! Even if your sister's got it bad for 'Twilightlicious' that's just... Crazy?!"
“Yeah, hehe, adults are weird right?” Scootaloo laughed awkwardly, blushing slightly, “Glad we totally don't do anything creepy like that. Now, come on, aren't we supposed to be trying for our golfing cutie marks today!”
CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS, BALL CLUBBERS!
“Yeah, you girls go out ahead, I'll see you outside!”
As Sweetie and Applebloom trotted outside Scootaloo picked up her duffel bag, filled with the various clubs they'd need today, like a nine iron and a sandwich. She didn't know what sandwiches had to do with clubbin' balls but apparently they were important of they got stuck in a trap.
Behind the bag was a firefly in a jar.
Lifting it up she opened the small compartment at the back of the clubhouse, filled with posters and autographed pictures of the fastest filly flyer in all of Equestria, the best Playmare centrefold of the past decade and the greatest hero Ponyville would ever know. Even better, it was the same pony.
Maybe... Maybe if I get a cool cutie mark too... Maybe then she'll like me.
“You comin' Scootaloo!”
“Oh, right! Yeah!” An orange blur zipped out of the tree house, the practiced concussive force of her wings slamming shut the tiny little door. She had gotten pretty good at closing the door in a hurry.
Man, when Applebloom fixed up the treehouse who knew she could make the floorboards so quiet.
Two ponies and a dragon were lounging in the library, flicking through assorted books in the peaceful treehouse.
“Hey, guys,” Rainbow Dash glanced up from her latest issue of Maddest magazine, “You ever get that itchy feeling, like a shivery twitchy- I dunno? Like, you really, really wanna scratch the back of your head but you just can't reach?”
Twilight and Spike nodded.
“All the time, now, actually... Must be because Ponyville is so much closer to sea level, I think. Here, let me help.”
Twilight scratched Dash behind the ears with a bit of levitation.
“Never happened to us in Canterlot, but I've learned something since we moved here 'cause of it. Claws, Dash? Claws are the best. Hooves just don't quite cut it when you need to-” Spike started scratching his head around about the same spot that Twilight was rubbing on Dash with her magic.
Spike's and Dash's eyes were scrunched shut and their mouths were twitching at odd angles. Spike was thumping one of his legs softly and Dash was leaning a little too far forward and drooling slightly. Twilight couldn't help but laugh.
Dash's eyes slammed open as she overbalanced, falling flat on her face. This caused Twilight to laugh even harder, earning her a withering glare from Dash.
The effect was ruined somewhat by her nose being smushed into the ground.
Twilight stopped short suddenly.
“Huh... You're right, now I'm itchy. Thanks a lot, guys.”
As all three started rubbing at the napes of their necks in various degrees of coordination three other voices from all over Ponyville spoke as one.
in response, the library echoed in reply.
“Gah, make it stop!”
The library was deadly quiet for a few moments.
"Hey, Twilight, what's Rainbow Dash doing in this magazine under your bed? It looks like she's winning!"
"Spike... You're grounded."