The Cumulus. There's no finer mattress in the world. It's just like sleeping on a cloud, because that's exactly what you're doing. It just happens to be a cloud that's been saturated with pegasus magic, to the point where anypony (and anyone) can rest upon it. The support is perfect, the temperature ideal, and Rainbow would do a lot to own one -- except saving up for it, because that's clearly stupid.

But the company has a factory in Canterlot. One which just started offering tours to the public. So in theory, all she has to do is get in there, see how it's done, and then apply that to creating one herself. Getting locked in after hours wasn't part of that plan, but if you're going to be stuck anywhere at night...

A mare who loves sleep, and sixty of the world's best mattresses.

Welcome to one of the worst nights of Rainbow's life.

Cover art provided by Rambling Writer, with thanks.

(Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages. The current Ko-Fi drive is for a new mattress. That is why this story exists.)

(The author is not subtle.)

Nothing ever changes within the forest. Public joy is shameful, pleasure fleeting, and you're not allowed to talk about what you're missing. They tell you what not to say, because that's the best way to make sure you think about it all the time. The younger generation is taught to be just as miserable as the older, allowing the perpetual miasma of depression to occupy fresh hosts. And so the facade which calls itself 'life' goes on across the centuries. Without change and, for the pain of loss, without end.

There's nothing new in the forest. There never will be.

And then there is.

(Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages.)

The heroic life isn't necessarily glamorous. Ben didn't get to fight the most recent alien to pop out of a pocket wormhole, because it collapsed shortly after arrival. The weird quadruped (a hand at the end of its tail, eyes where its nostrils should be) is currently doing nothing more than sleeping the trip off. But the Plumbers need to know what it's doing here -- and as long as it's asleep, there's only one means of interrogation available. Which requires using one of his least-favorite forms, but... that's the heroic life for you.

It's just that someone's already invaded that alien's dream.

And she has no problems with telling Ben how bad he is at it.

(Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages.)

Rarity generally tries to embrace innovation: after all, a mare who's always trying to stay ahead of the trend (or just outright create it) must be ready to accept the new. And the stress generated by a designer's life creates a certain need to... relax. Something where, quite frankly, spa sessions and private time in the designated screaming room aren't always enough to do it. So what's wrong with following up on a magazine article and personally learning how buffalo meditative techniques have been newly adapted for unicorns?

Absolutely nothing. Unless, of course, she recalls that some of her friends happen to enjoy pranking.

She doesn't always remember that last part in time.

(Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages.)

Pinkie knows that being a baker means taking a lot of responsibility for your product. The bread has to rise with Celestia. Nopony needs to go through Round Two on the Baked Bads. And if at all possible, you should absolutely avoid serving the kind of 'donuts' which summon an eldritch horror from beyond space and time to destroy the world.

The Cakes keep slipping up on that last part. Not deliberately, at least in that they don't know they're doing it -- but somepony still has to clean up the tentacled mess, and do it by the time Sun is raised. Which is going to be Pinkie. Again.

Break out the caffeine. It's going to be a long night.

(Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages.)

Rated C for Cthulhu Crackfic.

Even for a superfan like Rainbow, there are things you don't learn about the Wonderbolts until you become the newest part of the squad. Like how the view from the back of the formation never really changes, or that the slipstream carries a few unwelcome scents to the rear position. Or laundry. Nopony told her that the new mare was going to be responsible for doing the laundry. And the whole wash/dry process is just boring.

There's got to be a way to make laundry more interesting. Surely she can make an impression on Spitfire if she just... stunts it up.

Rainbow always makes an impression on ponies. And the landscape. A few windows. The occasional building...

(Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages.)

This story is a sequel to Unnoticed

Do you know the mare? So many believe they do. A single glance is more than sufficient to teach them everything. And given that they now know everything, there's clearly no need to make any further inquiries. She is what they've decided her to be. No more, and it would take quite a bit of effort to create any degree of 'less'.

Do you know the pegasus? The mailmare, the single mother, the incompetent, the town's lowest-flying joke? Is that what you've told yourself?

Do you know her?
You don't.

(Part of the Triptych Continuum, which has its own TVTropes page and FIMFiction group. New members and trope edits welcome.)

Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages.

While this story is tagged as a sequel, it's just following up on her previous appearance there: no knowledge of that piece is required.

What does a mayor do? On a good day, you get to nose over an award. It helps if you can make sure the weather schedule comes off on time. But more than anything else, it's about leadership. Taking responsibility for the safety and comfort of all those who live within your domain. That's how it's supposed to work. The mayor is the one who makes sure everything is under control.

This is Ponyville. Marigold is fully aware that on a typical day, approximately nothing will be under control. But when it comes to protecting those who live there, she still has to do whatever she can.

If there's anything left which she can do at all.

(Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages.)

Cover art from a vector rendering by DaAfroMan.

Being somepony's friend can require accepting the... quirkier parts of their personality: something Rarity is all too aware of, especially when it comes to the work involved in accepting hers. So discovering that Fluttershy possesses -- shall we say, a 'special interest' -- simply means that the designer needs to accompany her to the convention. Just to make sure the pegasus isn't going to get hurt.

But a mare of dignity and taste does not casually wander into a 'special interest' gathering and emerge unaffected. And as it happens, neither does Rarity.

Rated C for Conifer Crackfic.

(Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages.)

With proper care, thought, and some attention given to what the recipient might actually want, just about anypony could purchase a well-planned Hearts & Hooves Day gift. But to make it work when you're down to the last few hours, after having indulged in none of the previous requirements to the point where ignorance has become its very own art...

...well, to find the perfect gift under those circumstances would take a very special pony indeed.

And if Rainbow's anything, she's special.

(Now with author Patreon and Ko-Fi pages.)