Chapter 7: Day 7
Day 7
A little note: this is actually being recorded in the morning on my eighth day here in Ponyville, but I’m calling this Day 7 anyway because that’s the events it covers. Yesterday went as follows:
I woke without any great insights. Or rather, got up without any. Last night could hardly have been counted as sleeping. I was still as confused as I was last night. Deciding I needed to do some kind of physical activity to get my mind off things, I set off to find some plaster, my previous attempt at that having been interrupted.
Upon setting hoof outside my door, I immediately tripped over a small tent that was staked on my doorstep. Not a good way to improve a mood.
A yawning, purple-maned, orange-coated pegasus filly emerged from the collapsed structure, followed by her two comrades.
“Oh hey, we got him!”
“Ah told ya we should’a done this in the first place.”
I picked myself up off the ground. “What are three meddlesome fillies that stalk ponies and set up traps on unsuspecting strangers doing on my doorstep stalking and conspiring against me?”
“Getting our cutie marks, o’ course!”
Rarity’s younger sister–Sweetie Belle, I remembered–punched Applebloom in the ribs.
“In psychology, she means.”
“Well,” I said, trying to find a way to express how I felt without exposing the fillies to language they shouldn’t hear at their age. “I’m not doing any shrinking today.” I started trotting.
“Wow, you can shrink ponies? How does that work?” asked Scootaloo, who was trying to keep up, her peers right behind her. I resisted the urge to facehoof and strangle somepony at the same time. As it was, I rolled my eyes and went faster.
“What’s yer cutie mark mean?”
“How does the couch help?”
I made it to Ponyville’s fountain before I couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped suddenly, causing the fillies to smack into me from behind.
Turning to face them, I said, “Do I look like I give two bits about your cutie marks? You want the truth about psychology? Here’s the truth. It lets you see the inside of ponies, and do you know what revelation accompanies that? All ponies are dark on the inside. They act like they love you. They act like they’ll always be there for you. But the only pony anypony gives a buck about is themselves! The sooner you accept that and ditch trust, the better off you’ll be.”
My rant had silenced and mostly evicted the square of equines. The three fillies in front of me cowered back.
“Um, maybe we should try something else now...”
“I would highly advise that,” I remarked. They turned and employed a hasty retreat.
I tried to slow my breathing. My emotions (what? They don’t exist!) were on a knife blade with anger on one side and despair on the other.
A flicker of movement pulled me out of my internal dilemma. I glimpsed a soft pink mane and a flash of butter-colored coat hiding behind a park bench. Fluttershy?
I started across the square, when a slightly familiar voice jabbed accusingly through the air.
“There you are!”
I looked to my side to see Colgate stomping swiftly my way, having just turned the corner and apparently missing the drama.
“Uh...”
“You are such a jerk!” She was in my face now.
“That depends on whether you’re speaking globally or relatively.”
She ignored my comment.
“A stallion that asks a mare on a date before even dumping the other one in his life–if you were even planning on dumping her at all–is either an idiot or a jerk. And I don’t think you’re an idiot.”
A perverted part of my mind wondered whether to take that as a complement.
“Okay, first off, I didn’t ask you out on a date; secondly, I’m not seeing anypony else anyw-”
“We were meeting in my apartment in the evening. What did you think we were going to do, sit around and play bingo?”
What the...
“And I’ve seen you with that basketcase, Derpy-”
“Ditzy,” I automatically corrected.
“-and I have like zero idea what you see in her. She’s not even attractive-”
“You lie.”
I realized later that my face was in hers, my eyes narrowed dangerously.
“W-well,” she said, backing up. “Consider tonight off.”
No, really?
I settled down on the bench, exasperated. Colgate left.
“Fluttershy?” I knew she was behind me, but I wanted her to know that I knew.
“...”
“I’m not a nice pony, am I?”
“...no.”
I laughed. The irony was just hysterical at this point. “I guess that kind of makes us arch-enemies doesn’t it?”
“Well... it doesn’t have to.”
I got up.
“Um, where are you going?”
“Back to Canterlot.”
I went straight back to my house, not really caring that things didn’t make sense anymore. Picking up the cursed pencil, I started a note to the Princess. With luck, it would reach her before I made it back to Canterlot, and it would save me an explanation I really didn’t want to make.
To Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia, Kind and Benevolent Ruler of Equestria,
From Doctor Whooves,
I regret to inform you that, do to unforeseen circumstances which caused excessive, unsustainable emotional stress, I am resigning my position in Ponyville. I have been restrained up to now, but my actions are getting too close for comfort anymore.
Apologies that this could not be a face to face conversation, but by the time it arrives I will have left; I haven’t told but one about my-
A rather peculiar sound...
...the doorbell, interrupted me half way through. I hastily shoved the unfinished letter under some magazines and moved into the kitchen, where I grabbed the nearest thing resembling a box and started packing.
“Come in,” I practically yelled, not missing a beat.
The door creaked open, and what only could have been Fluttershy stole in, what with the light footfalls.
“Oh, um, please don’t pack.”
“Fluttershy, I am your antithesis. Even when I’m not trying to... to fix ponies–and thus screwing with their lives–I say something stupid and it has the same effect,” I said, still pulling out pots from under the sink.
“But that’s not-” She stopped. “Um, could you please look at me when I’m talking to you?”
I kept digging in the cabinet.
“LOOK AT ME!”
The shear force of the yell propelled me across the room, sending me tumbling. I smacked into an end-table, upsetting a lamp. From my upside-down position, I saw Fluttershy nearly panting, eyebrows more than slightly furrowed, mane frazzled, pupils the size of a bit. She stalked up to my flipped form, prostrate against the wall. This was kind of scary. Okay, it was really scary.
“Nopony hurts my friends and doesn’t make up.”
I blinked. “Uh...”
“You are going to fix this, you big meanie.”
“Yes, of course,” was all I could collect enough thoughts for.
“If you step so much as one hoof outside Ponyville...”
I smiled sheepishly and attempted to nodded, even while my body’s weight was on my head. She turned to walk out, apparently having successfully delivered her point.
“And Fluttershy?”
“What?”
“Just FYI, the rage works well.”
She left.
I righted myself and what furniture was still intact.
“Dear Princess, one of your Elements is insane and threatened my life. Sincerely, Whooves,” I said to myself sarcastically. Her outburst wasn’t really that bad–I’d seen worse–it was just such a swing from her usual demeanor. Better to keep this under wraps for the moment, dig deeper, use it. In the meantime, however, I was stuck trying to put back the wreckage that had been relationships.
I decided to head out and get lunch.
My hooves took me to the same coffee shop and/or cafe that I had met Colgate in. I looked over at the table where we had been...
...and she was sitting there. At that moment, she looked up from a novel she was reading and made eye contact. She frowned, then snapped her book shut and lifted her beverage with magic, getting up to leave. I intercepted her, putting a hoof on her shoulder.
“Sit down.”
Her frown morphed into an angry pout of sorts, but she obeyed.
“I know what you think of me and I think I understand why,” I said. “But we can’t live the rest of our lives pretending the other doesn’t exist, or worse.”
“I don’t know about that. Let’s try it and see.”
I almost groaned out loud.
“I won’t pretend what happened didn’t happen, but I’m willing to start fresh anyway. With a few clarifications and healthy boundaries.”
She looked up with this, interested but not wanting to let it show. “Like what?”
“Well, to start, we will assume that the other party is not in any way romantically inclined towards the other unless explicitly stated otherwise and after both parties acknowledge its existence. As an extension to the previous statement, both parties will abstain from interfering or prying into the other’s romantic intentions or relationships without permission. Additionally, each party will refrain from using their respective talents against the other with malicious intent.”
Colgate blinked. “I have no idea what you just said. You sound like a lawyer or something.”
I sighed. “Clean slate. Don’t look for love that isn’t there, and don’t interfere.”
The unicorn thought for a few seconds. “Ugh, fine.”
“Oh, one other thing,” I said, as a thought occurred to me. “Can I get a raincheck on tonight? You could say that what happened earlier was just one part of all my follies today, and I kind of need to fix them.”
“Oh, yeah, sure. I actually sorta made plans after I left, and I’ve got a date lined up for tonight.”
I blinked, but shook it off. She’s really out there sometimes.
I ordered something that would suffice as lunch, and sat down with Colgate. She’s not one to hold a grudge, especially after her jaw starts working. We talked about our lives, our pasts, our tastes in various subjects; all revealed we were almost complete opposites, with the exception of both of us liking a certain amount of the ‘cool’ factor in our appearances. It hasn’t shown up in me too much here in Ponyville, but when I have control over what goes on around me, I can get a little self-absorbed. Back in Canterlot, I was the personification of ‘hip’ among the psychological circles–which is a unique combination in its own right. Colgate claimed to be the laziest pony in 50 square miles. I’m not sure why anypony would aspire to that, but I wasn’t going to raise any objections. Besides, that’s what you could look at her cutie mark as, if you wanted to.
But I ramble.
My first objectives were the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Sweetie Belle was the closest, and also turned out to be the easiest. She hadn’t told her big sister about the incident, so I think it’s quite possible that I actually improved my standing with Rarity (turns out it’s rewarding to apologize to somepony in the presence of other ponies who didn’t see the regrettable act committed).
I wasn’t going to take back what I said... as far as I am concerned, most of it is still true, as a general rule. Or until they give you a reason to see otherwise. What I did tell the filly was that she shouldn’t let the darkness in other ponies turn her into one of them, and that I shouldn’t have raised my voice. And I also told her–in a moment when Rarity wasn’t around–not to use ‘buck’ in the sense I had used it.
Sweet Apple Acres presented a longer trot. Also, the fact that the temperature was dropping insanely quickly wasn’t making me any more comfortable. I glanced up, happening to see a group of weather pegasi herding dark, moisture-laden clouds.
“Hey!” I shouted to a nearby pegasus. “What’s going on?”
“Storm. Duh. Say, I’d find cover if I were you.”
“Why can’t you pegasi stick to the ‘half hour shower every Monday’ thing?”
He shrugged. “We post all the changes in the report.”
“Really?” I asked, intrigued. For having controlled weather, it is surprising how erratic it still is. “Where can I find that?”
“Cloudsdale Weather Factory, office in building 2,” he said, fly back to his group.
Bucking brilliant. I would have facehooved, except that I was worried I’d give myself a black eye. What good is the weather report going to do up there? What about all of us wingless ponies? Meh, stuck up pegasi.
I picked up the pace, arriving at the farmhouse just as the last of the sun disappeared in the clouds. The place was shut up tight, shutters locked up tight, doors barred, tarps strapped. They did answer the door after a minute, though. It was Applejack.
Her brow skewed itself slightly, as though caught between confusion and distaste. I shuffled my hooves in the rapidly chilling air.
“Can I come in?”
“Ah’m not sure that’s such a good idea right now,” she replied.
“Well, normally I’d love to go for a picnic,” I said sarcastically, “but I’ve got some things to say to somepony before I leave.”
She reluctantly made room for me to come in. The interior of the house was cozy. They already had a fire going strong on the hearth, lamps lit, blankets distributed, kettle on. An old mare I assumed was Granny Smith was snoring quietly on the couch, while Big Macintosh looked over some ledgers. He looks a lot different with glasses.
“Is Applebloom here?”
“Look, Doc-”
“I’m here because I blew my top and I’m sorry. Shall I tell her, or would you rather?”
She sighed. “Do what ya have to, but Ah don’t ever want ta hear you saying that kind of stuff around A.B. again, that clear?”
“Abundantly,” I replied, while thinking sarcastically, Oh, because you are the epitome of clean language and grammar.
“Well alright then.”
She directed me towards Applebloom’s room, stopping at the top of the stairs. The door was ajar, so I walked in as unobtrusively as I could. Applebloom looked up from the book she was reading and smiled when she saw me.
“Oh hey, Doc!”
“Oh, hello,” I replied, slightly confused at her cheery attitude. “Aren’t you even slightly... disturbed about my presence?”
Applebloom shut the book–homework, apparently–and hopped out of her chair. “You take my big sis too seriously. Sure, Ah thought it was a little weird–and kind of creepy–about yer rant, but it ain’t no big deal. Sis only got so irritated when Ah mentioned that it seemed odd for you–a non-farmin’ pony, that is–to use a word like ‘buck’ when you did.” She cocked her head a little bit. “Why did you use it like that anyway?”
Wow, ponies here are a way more sheltered than in Canterlot. Back there, foals Applebloom’s age were using that kind of language as often as not.
I grinned, sheepishly. “That’s... not really my place to say. Ask your brother, perhaps.” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I wanted to apologize for...” My thoughts drifted as I wondered if it was appropriate to apologize to somebody for something they didn’t necessarily find offencive. “...Uh, raising my voice?”
She laughed. Which I thought was kind of rude at first. “No need for that, silly. Besides, you better get moving if you want to make it home,” she said, and then continued. “Hey! Why don’t ya stay here tonight, till the weather gets better tomorrow?”
“I think I’ll take my chances,” I said, looking out the window. “Thanks for understanding.”
Applebloom nodded and picked up her book again. I trotted down the stairs as fast as I politely could, nodded to Applejack, and exited out the front.
Outside, the clouds stretched to the horizon, setting a premature dusk on Ponyville. Rain had started coming down, heavier sheets descending with every second. Wasting no time, I bolted off the porch and into the cold, depressing downpour.
After trotting for a hundred yards or so, the distinct sound of thunder in the distance rumbled through the air. I picked up the pace a bit. I have no way to find Scootaloo at the moment; better just call it a day and go home-
My thoughts scattered as lightning laced across the sky, with a practically simultaneous boom. I broke out in full gallop, suddenly heedless of the rain or wind. The sky’s electrical forces began touching the earth.
I yelped when a bolt struck a nearby apple tree on the edge of Sweet Apple Acres, rendering the world in stark contrast for an instant, and splintering the tree to charred slivers. I had no choice then but to keep running.
The outskirts of Ponyville approached soon after leaving the orchard behind, but I could feel my breath flagging, hoofsteps becoming slightly uncoordinated. I’m not going to risk continuing to my house in this furry, I thought as I ran between the first of the lower houses. I need... hey, I know that house. I dashed the few yards to the Doo house, letting myself in and flattening against the door as another boom rocked the foundations. I sat down on the mat, dripping and panting.
Momentarily, Ditzy appeared around the corner. Her hair was slightly disheveled and her eyes mostly closed, as though she had fallen asleep somewhere she hadn’t planned to. She walked in unsteadily and sat down, yawning.
And all I could think was, Wow, she’s really cute in socks.
She blinked a few times, waking up fully. “Whooves? What are you doing out in-”
Another crack of thunder caused us both to look up at the roof.
“-this?”
I forced myself to stop looking at her fuzzy pink socks, but was only partially successful. She was just so cute.
I’ve never used that word to describe many things in my life, but she fit the ticket. I kicked my thoughts back to the present.
“I was on my way back from Sweet Apple Acres when the storm hit,” I explained. “Do you mind if I wait the worst of it out here?”
“Sure, that’s fine,” she said, returning to the room she had come out of. “Just shake before you come on the carpet.”
Oh. Shake. Right.
I’d never pulled a water-removal style shake in my adult life. It felt foalish as I braced my legs, widening my stance... and then caught a glimpse of Ditzy watching me through the doorway.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she lied, trying to hide her amusement.
I gritted my teeth and rolled my head back and forth as fast and hard as I could, then continued to shake my shoulders. It left me a little dizzy, but I was happy to discover that my mane was dry, along with most of my coat; my tail, however, was still soaking wet.
I sighed. “What did I do wrong?”
Ditzy giggled. “You have to shake your flanks too.”
That was uncalled for. Even if it was true.
Nevertheless, I did it, and it worked. And thankfully, she didn’t make any other comments.
Now dry, I followed her into the living room. It looked much more informal than most, however; stacks of mail to be sorted sat on the dinged-up coffee table, a few leftover dishes remained on a shelf, and books were stacked in the corners. Not really dirty, just... informal.
“So... where’s Dinky?”
“Oh, she’s sleeping over with Sparkler,” she replied, settling back into the loveseat, under a lamp.
“Is that somepony I should know?”
“Sparkler. Her sister.”
I think somepony dropped an anvil on me at that point.
“Well, half-sister,” she clarified.
Okay, that cleared some things up. It also added a new level of depth to Ditzy’s past.
I sat down in an armchair across from her. Despite always having been around armchairs, I never really sat in them much; it was kind of a foreign feeling. “I see.”
“So, do you have an answer yet?”
The question didn’t entirely take me by surprise. I thought back to what I had said that morning, about the darkness within.
“Because you’re different.”
“Hm?”
“You get abused every day, verbally insulted, whispered about. And you take it anyway. You break the rules of motivation. Sure, you’re wary at first–and you should be–but you give ponies a chance; that’s more than most can say. That’s more than I can say.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“What?”
“You didn’t assume I was mental just because I’ve got an eye condition.”
“Um, well... I just happened to be aware of the misconception.”
“You of all ponies should know that you can’t accurately judge a book by it’s cover.”
“I’ve gotten good at it anyway.”
She looked at me for a moment with crossed eyes, but it was still a thoughtful look. “As long as it doesn’t cover up what you really know about them...”
We sat in silence for a while, wrapped in our own thoughts. The only sound was the rain, pounding mercilessly against the window, sporadically punctuated with the rumbling of thunder in the dark afternoon. Eventually, Ditzy picked up a hardback book that had been open, sitting on the armrest. I watched as she struggled to read, focusing intently, trying to make the page stay in focus.
“What are you reading?”
“I’m trying to read ‘Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone,’ but it’s not going so well. I get about a page an hour.”
“Would you like me to read it for you?”
She looked up. “Out loud?”
No, just to myself. “Yes, of course.”
She paused for a moment, then scooted over, giving me room by the light. I moved over and picked up the book, resting it on the arm of the loveseat.
“Fair warning, my voice is kind of annoying over long periods of time.”
“You’re a therapist,” she said, unconvinced.
“My typical patients usually do most of the talking.”
She laughed. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
So I picked up where she left off. At first she remained attentive, fighting the lure of sleep. But minutes turned into hours. Her eyes drooped, and her posture slouched; the drumming of the rain, in addition to my monotone speech, was enough to send Celestia herself to sleep. About two hours later, as I reached the part where Daring Do was dodging the spikes in the ancient temple, I felt Ditzy shift position...
…and rest her head on my side, eyes closed.
I immediately felt my nervousness flare up, my fear of physical contact manifesting itself. My heart rate increased, my breathing becoming shallow. Just chill, I told myself. There’s nothing to worry about. Touching other ponies like this is perfectly...
...normal.
My pulse quickened for an entirely different reason. I looked down at her, mane sprawled lazily over my flank, legs in pink socks curled up, chest rising and falling with her breath.
“Ditzy?”
“Mm-hmm...” she answered, absentmindedly.
“Was my answer right?”
She wrapped a foreleg around my chest hugging me. “...you have a reason... not an answer, and that’s... just the way... it... should... be...”
I was about to object, but as I thought about it, it made more sense. An answer is universal in nature; it is generally accepted as truth. Reasons, on the other hand, are different for everyone, even in the context of of the same issue or act. If you ask everypony in town why they are in town, you’ll get many different responses; in fact, you probably won’t get two exactly identical ones. If, on the other hand, you ask which princess raises the sun, you’ll get one answer. That’s the difference. I realized Ditzy had wanted a real reason, not one of my pre-prepared answers, which I am so good at giving.
The sound of Ditzy’s breathing fell into a deeper pattern.
Gently, I set the book down on the coffee table and clicked off the light. Only the diffused light that filtered through the thick storm clouds provided a minimal glow from the window. I rested my head on the arm of the two-cushioned couch. My foreleg, however, had no space to rest. Finally, I hesitantly let it fall to its natural position on Ditzy’s shoulder.
I let out a breath. This wasn’t awkward, like I thought it would be. This felt right.
Sleep tugged at me, and I didn’t resist; the day passed into night and the realm of dreams took control.
More has happened since then, but that takes place today, so I’ll wait and include that in the recording at the end of today.
Till then, Whooves out.
Stats
Page generated in 0.071 seconds
Total duration
768 users online
708,405 hits today, 2,054,621 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Whooves seems to be breaking things at a faster pace than he is fixing them.
lol
Oh my God, the wait paid off.
I know Whooves is responsible for getting himself in all different kinds of mess, but that doesn't stop me from feeling sorry for him.
And that's exactly what I love about this fanfic. It really provokes emotions in me. You, as a writer, are doing your job perfectly.
And the ending part was so damn heartwarming... I need a shot of insulin. Or two.
NEED MORE OF THIS FIC.
Me Gusta Mucho!
...That's Spanish for "following this so hard."
♫♥I look forward to reading what happens next in your story♥♪
Seeing Flutterage scares me as well...
I would say his report on the Bearers is not progressing rapidly. Especially at this rate.
First off, I love Socially Awkward Whooves! Psychologist or otherwise, it just fits so darn well! Secondly, what's with him and that doorbell? Thirdly, Fluttershy. 'Nuff said. dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/misc_Fluttershy_umad.png
. ignore my comment, as the html has failed
443172 Who isn't scared by a Flutterrage? Answer: NO ONE
YAY for Fluttershy
and Cute for the Ending.
I loved it. Applebloom cares not at all for anything the Doctor did.
Again, I'm not going to repeat myself, though. Even though I basically did.
Gimme art. Now. I want a picture of Ditzy/Derpy in her socks sprawled up next to Doctor Whooves!
You know this story reminds me of this in some way: