//------------------------------//
// Snippets #3 
// Story: Just Girls Talking 
// by MythrilMoth 
//------------------------------//

Sunset Shimmer and Applejack were rounding the corner on their way to the cafeteria when they almost tripped over Fluttershy, who was squatting on the floor in front of the soda machine. "Razzafrickin'...oh! Sorrow of Moldavia!" Fluttershy hissed as she probed feebly and fruitlessly under the edge of the machine with her slender fingers.

"Dropped some money, Fluttershy?" Sunset asked, raising an eyebrow.

Fluttershy looked up, face red. "Oh, hi girls. Yeah, I dropped a dollar and it went under this stupid machine! I'm so peeved right now..."

"Shucks, sugarcube, lemme help with that." Applejack wrapped her arms around the machine and effortlessly lifted it off the floor. Fluttershy quickly scooped up her dollar and dusted it off as Applejack set the machine back down.

"Oh, it's all crumpled," Fluttershy sighed. "And I'm out of change..."

"Here, I've got enough change," Sunset said with a smile, taking the rumpled dollar from Fluttershy and giving her quarters. Fluttershy smiled gratefully and bought a drink, then joined her friends in the line moving slowly through the cafeteria doors. "So, uhh...that was some...interesting fake-swearing you were doing," Sunset said lightly.

Fluttershy eeped and blushed. "Oh, you...heard that. Umm..."

"—and then I moved on him like a bitch!" Pinkie Pie exclaimed loudly as she and Rainbow Dash walked up behind them. "Hey girls!" she said.

Rainbow laughed raucously at whatever anecdote Pinkie had been sharing. "Damn, Pinkie Pie, you are so full of shit sometimes! Hey everybody."

Fluttershy blinked at the two of them. "Um. You do know we're in public, right? And...at school..."

"Yeah, y'all wanna tone it down a speck?" Applejack asked, arching an eyebrow. "Granny's gonna give us all th' hairy eyeball."

"Aw, take the stick out," Rainbow said dismissively as the girls formed a loose group in the line.

"Yeah, AJ!" Pinkie said. "Newsflash, kids curse."

"I don't," Fluttershy said. "Um, except when I'm really really mad at my brother sometimes."

"Yeah, that kind of language is for outside of school," Sunset said. "Didn't TV teach you anything growing up?"

Rainbow gave her a flat stare. "Seriously?"

"Umm...I think being raised by the television would make a swearing habit worse, not..." Fluttershy trailed off. "A-anyway, none of us have parents that are that negligent."

"Yeah, Sunset," Pinkie said with a roll of her eyes, "just because you get to be all cool and aloof Miss I'm-My-Own-Independent-Woman, doesn't mean—" She stopped abruptly, eyes wide. "Too far, huh?" she said quietly.

"Nah, I have no regrets," Sunset said. "Fillies and colts strike out on their own pretty early in Equestria. Besides, I left home practically the day I got my Cutie Mark..." She frowned. "Hmm. Actually, I should better ask Princess Twilight to send my folks a letter, I haven't thought about them in years." She shook her head. "Anyway, not trying to be a prude or anything, but watch the language at school, okay? It's not that hard."

"Pfft," Rainbow snorted. "You sound like an after-school special."

"Now, Rainbow Dash," Fluttershy chided, "just because Sunset has a history of being evil and a bully—no offense—don't forget, she's from the same magical pony princess world as Twilight Sparkle. They probably don't even have swearing where she comes from, it's probably hard for her to get used to, even after all this time."

"I wouldn't say we don't have it," Sunset said. "It's just...what passes for swearing in Equestria is pretty tame by this world's standards, and pretty much sounds like Fluttershy's weird fake-swearing to you guys." She shrugged. "Stuff like 'horseapples' or 'old nag', mostly."

"Oh my," Fluttershy said, smothering a giggle.

From inside the cafeteria, a sudden shout made the entire line jump. "QUIT CUTTIN' IN GODDAMN LINE, Y' LITTLE SHIT!"

Sunset blinked. "Was...was that Granny Smith?!"

"Eeyup," Applejack said, eyes wide. "Hooooly crap..."





One afternoon a few weeks after the Friendship Games, Twilight Sparkle was browsing at her favorite bookstore when she ran into Sugarcoat. "Oh, hey Sugarcoat," she said with some trepidation. "How...how's it going?"

"It's going alright," Sugarcoat said. "Principal Cinch quit. Nobody misses her. Cadance is principal now."

"Wow, really?" Twilight asked, eyes lighting up. "Good for her!"

"The board is giving her a hard time," Sugarcoat said. She pulled out her phone and tapped away at it for a minute; Twilight's phone beeped and a video began loading...


* * * * *


In a stuffy conference room, a collection of stuffy, sour-faced old men sat around a long conference table, at the head of which sat Dean Cadance, primly dressed in her usual skirt and blazer. Sugarcoat and Sunny Flare stood nearby, out of the way, in their Crystal Prep uniforms.

The men were arguing back and forth. "Too young, too inexperienced," one said.

"But Abacus had no vice principal to take her place," said another. "We have few options."

"There are always other options!" snarled a white-skinned man in a stark black suit. His dull opal eyes glared hatefully up and down the table. His black hair was slicked back and firmly coiffed, and a sharp, pointed goatee graced his chin.

"We know what your idea of 'options' are, Neighsay!" another man shouted. "We've been over this!"

"But I must insist!"

"Gentlemen, please," Cadance called calmly and pleasantly over the squabbling. "Mr. Neighsay seems to have something to say." She inclined her head primly at Mr. Neighsay; the others fell silent as he leaned forward, squaring his shoulders.

"Very well," Neighsay began. "I have sat on the board of trustees for Crystal Prep for three generations. I was on this board when Abacus Cinch, a fine upstanding educator by any right, began her tenure. As much as it pains me to see her go, her loss to Canterlot High School was a sign. But let me make one thing clear: Abacus should be replaced with one who shares her values and experience, not a glorified guidance counselor with no respect for our reputation who goes and gives our brightest pupil to CHS—!"

A pink blur jumped onto the table and ran along its length, stopping in front of Neighsay. A pink harisen flashed out, striking him full in the face with enough force to send him crashing into the conference room wall. The trustees sat, stunned, and stared at Cadance, who stood atop the table, barefoot. She took a deep breath and drew herself up to her full height, holding the harisen primly in front of her with both hands. She turned to regard them all and spoke calmly. "Gentlemen. As the new Principal of Crystal Prep, I encourage you, from time to time and always in a respectful manner, to question my logic. If you're unconvinced a particular plan of action I've decided is the wisest, tell me so! But allow me to convince you, and I promise you right here and now: no subject will ever be taboo...except, of course, the subject that was just under discussion. The price you pay for bringing up Twilight Sparkle's transfer to Canterlot High as a negative is—I smack your fucking head." She pointed with her harisen at the dazed, insensate Neighsay. "Just like this fucker here." With that, she let her smoldering gaze circle the table, her harisen now held in a ready grip in her right hand.

"Now if ANY of you sons of bitches have ANYTHING ELSE TO SAY, NOW'S THE FUCKING TIME!"

Nobody dared speak.

"I didn't think so," Cadance said primly.








(Author's Note: This snippet is related to Comes a Crossover.)




"What," Plagg said sourly, giving the offered item the most scathing, offended look he could muster, "is that."

Pinkie Pie looked in confusion from Plagg to the wrapped yellow square she held up by a corner. "It's cheese," she said. "You said you wanted some cheese, right?"

Plagg drew himself up and puffed up in irritation. "That," he informed her coldly, "is not cheese."

"Huh? Of course it's cheese, silly!" Pinkie said. "I put it on cheeseburgers and grilled cheese sandwiches and ham and cheese sandwiches and stuff like that all the time!"

Plagg shuddered. "You actually eat that?! Blech!"

"Plagg," Adrien hissed, "it's America. It's not their fault they don't know what real cheese is."

"Rude!" Pinkie said. "Also, what's America?"

"It's—nevermind," Adrien said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, it's just, where we come from, if you called that stuff cheese, you'd be flogged in the street."

Pinkie blinked. "Are you for real?" She shook her head. "First Marinette and now you two, I swear. You Frenchies are real food snobs!"

"Food is our culture," Marinette said as she walked in, wiping her hands on a paper towel. "What went wrong now?"

"Cheese went wrong," Adrien said, pointing at the wrapped single Pinkie was still holding.

Marinette blinked. "That's supposed to be cheese?" She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. "Tu me fais chier..."

"SERIOUSLY!" Pinkie Pie cried, throwing her hands up (the cheese single flew out of her hand and stuck to the ceiling). "Why is it such a big deal with you guys?!"

"Where we come from, there are strict laws about what can and can't be called cheese, about specific types of cheese, and...well, basically cheese is a really big deal," Marinette explained. "So are bread and wine. Cheese, bread, and wine, those three things are...well, they're kind of the heart and soul of our country."

"Hundreds of years of history are tied up in French wine, cheese, and bread," Adrien said, nodding. "Kings and queens and churches and things come and go and soak our soil with blood, but no matter what happens to France or its people, the pride of our culture is in our food."

Plagg cocked an ear and squinted one eye. "This coming from the boy who complains about the smell of my beloved Camembert?"

"Hey, I can hate the stench and still respect the tradition," Adrien said.

"Sooo...just because your country is really snooty about cheese and stuff, you won't even try ours?" Pinkie asked with a mild frown. "Cause that makes you sound like a couple of butts."

Adrien and Marinette looked at each other, sheepish, guilty expressions on their faces. "I...guess we're kind of living up to the worst stereotypes about French people, huh?" Adrien said slowly.

Marinette sighed. "Yeah...we kind of are," she admitted. She shot Plagg a sharp look. "We all are."

Plagg blinked. "Hey, don't look at me, I'm not French," he said. "I just don't eat anything that doesn't have its own body odor."

"Ugh, nasty!"

"So you're willing to give cheese a chance?" Pinkie asked. Adrien and Marinette gave her hesitant nods. Her smile returning, Pinkie blurred into motion, gathering up bread and butter and a skillet. In just a couple of minutes, she had something sizzling on the stove. Before either French teen could ask what was happening, a happily humming Pinkie Pie slid a plate in front of each of them containing one perfectly golden brown, melty grilled cheese sandwich.

Adrien and Marinette looked at the sandwiches, at each other, and at Pinkie. They picked up half a sandwich each and took a bite.

"Hmm, that's...not bad actually," Marinette said.

"It's...mellow," Adrien said. "Nice and smooth. This'd be good to have if you're sick in bed, maybe with some soup."

Plagg drifted over and, curiosity getting the better of him, tore off a corner of a sandwich and ate it. He chewed thoughfully, then pulled a face. "I was right the first time," he decided.

The piece of cheese stuck to the ceiling chose that moment to fall, landing right on his head.