WORLD IS IN DANGER. DON'T TALK TO ME.

by Aragon

Just Wait It Out

"I’m going to break up with Rainbow Dash,” Sunset Shimmer said.

And Applejack high-fived her so hard they hurt both their wrists.

“Right, um.” Fluttershy had to use both hands to hold the smartphone against her cheek. Her hoodie’s sleeves were longer than her arms; they dangled past her fingertips. “We’re about to vandalize a car.”

“Oh.” Twilight Sparkle was at the other end of the line. The human one, the one that wore glasses. “Right. An entire car?” 

“Yeah.” 

Pause.

“This week just keeps getting better, doesn’t it.”

It was late at night, and this wasn’t the nice part of Canterlot City.

The neighborhood was called “the Docks”, even though it wasn’t even remotely near the water. Most windows in sight were either broken or about to be, every street was sixty percent dark corners, and you could always hear sirens in the distance—but the police cars never came. 

This particular street was one of the wide ones. The buildings around were grey and tall, and Fluttershy was standing under one of the few streetlights, but even then it looked like the kind of place where, if you were to describe a murder, the first word you’d use would be “predictable”.

Rarity and Pinkie were across the street, talking to each other, inspecting the car about to be vandalized. It was decorated with the strangest paint job—an ugly man, wearing an ugly top hat. It was enough to send shivers down your spine.

Fluttershy didn’t like looking at it, so she focused back on her phone. “I, uh, I brought the knife. And the baseball bat. So we’re probably going to slash the tires, and break the windows and so on.”

“Ah-hah,” Twilight said. “Let me guess. Pinkie’s in charge.”

“She won at rock paper scissors.” 

“If Rarity organizes a coup d’état, let her know I’m siding with her.” Twilight’s voice sounded a bit absent. She wasn’t paying Fluttershy her full attention. “Okay, so—I take it that the car has, I don’t know. Something scribbled on it?”

“Ugly paint job.” Fluttershy glanced at it again. “A man in a top hat.”

“Someone actually painted that on their car?”

“Rarity says it’s not a paint job, it’s a statement, and that if anything that gives us more reasons to set fire to the car.” And then Fluttershy bit her lip, and asked the real question. “Twilight? How’s Sunset… doing?”

Twilight took a bit to answer.

That didn’t mean the other side of the line was silent, though. Fluttershy could hear Twilight speaking away from the phone, and Sunset saying something back. Then the rustle of clothes, something creaking, and—

A door slamming shut.

“Okay,” Twilight said then, and Fluttershy could hear the frown in her voice. “I’m out of the room, I can talk now. Sunset, you were asking?”

Fluttershy sucked air through her teeth. “That bad?”

“Fluttershy, I sent you out on a mission that explicitly involved causing huge amounts of property damage, and she’s not with you.”

Pause.

And Fluttershy nodded. “That bad. ” She looked around to find the cleanest spot around her, crouched down to pat it, and then sat on the curb, hugging her knees while holding the phone. “I wish I could do something to help. I was hoping she would have recovered a little by now.”

Twilight sighed. “I feel she’ll get worse before she gets better, actually.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I still think she has to talk about it, open up a bit? But she’s clearly not ready yet. How’s Dash doing?”

This made Fluttershy look up, and the hood fell from her face. Her hair, underneath, was tied up in a ponytail. “Rainbow Dash?” she asked. “She’s with Applejack.” 

“I mean, yes, but you’ve talked to her too, right? Come on, she’s Rainbow Dash, and you’re Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy kicked her legs a little bit. She was wearing pink sneakers. “She just broke up with Sunset Shimmer,” she said. “I’m the last person she wants to talk to, right now.”

“What? Why?”

Fluttershy smiled.

Here’s the thing about being smart: it doesn’t mean that you’re clever. There’s something about understanding the world that makes you stop paying attention to it, and just because you’re good at learning doesn’t mean you’re good at knowing.

Twilight Sparkle was the most intelligent person Fluttershy had ever met, and she was an earnest, lovely, charming little sweetheart. But—if you want to confuse a genius?

Just say something obvious.

“She can’t talk to me because she’s Rainbow Dash,” Fluttershy explained. “And I’m Fluttershy.”

“What? What?”

“It’s—um. I don’t know if I should be the one telling you, if you don’t know already. It feels a bit, uh.” Fluttershy squinted. “A bit… wrong? You see—”

In the background, Pinkie screamed.

It wasn’t a very worrying scream, more surprise than fear, but it was still the kind of sound that makes you look up. So that’s what Fluttershy did. Straight at the top-hat man painted on the side of the car, because that’s what Pinkie was pointing at.

The top-hat man drawing looked back at Fluttershy. 

And winked at her.

So Fluttershy went back to the phone. “Sorry, I have to hang up now. Hug Sunset for me!”

“What? Fluttershy, we’re in the middle of—”

Fluttershy cut off the call—she made sure to say “sorry” to the phone both before and after pressing the hang-up button—and then fumbled for her backpack. She brought out two knives, a chain with a lock on one end, and the baseball bat. 

The group had bought a lot of baseball bats lately, but Fluttershy didn’t remember ever buying any balls.

“Okay,” she whispered. Behind her, the top hat man laughed, and got out of his drawing, reaching for Fluttershy. “Here we go again.”

“Sunset!” Twilight came back into her room and closed the door behind her. “I’m done with the call. How’s it going?”

Sunset was sitting on Twilight’s bed. Not on the edge—she was all the way in, sitting on top of the pillow in fact. Legs crossed, back against the headboard, and when she replied, she didn’t even open her mouth. She just made this sound:

“Hrrmmm.”

And it clearly took her an effort.

So Twilight smiled at her, forcing it a little so Sunset could see everything was fine, and then went for the swivel office chair in front of the computer. “Well, glad to hear you’re still alive at least. Fluttershy sends hugs, by the way.”

“Hrrrm.”

“She might have sent more than that, but a monster interrupted the call, so.” Twilight checked her computer. The three screens, side by side, showed a series of charts—and one big map of the Docks, full of red dots. She added another. “They’re probably fighting for their lives right now.”

Sunset sighed. “That sounds like fun.”

“It does! We can still join them if you want?” Twilight said, staring at the charts. “I can just grab the machete and…?”

“Nah. I don’t feel like it.” 

Twilight tapped her chin with a pencil. “Mm.” 

“…Sorry,” Sunset said. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I know I’m being annoying right now.”

And that made Twilight look away from the screen.

Sunset Shimmer stuck out like a sore thumb against the background of Twilight’s room. She looked like the girl you date exclusively to offend your mother. She wore a black vest, and torn-up jeans, and looked straight-up miserable, but in a mean way. 

“It’s just, this is the worst,” she said, looking at Twilight. “I can leave you alone if you want? So you can do your thing?”

Which made Twilight smile again, and this time she didn’t have to force it. “Sunset, I once got so scared I turned into a maniacal murder demon. If I were bothered by emotional vulnerability I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. You’re perfectly fine.”

Sunset gave her a wry smirk, and then scooted closer to her. “Twilight?”

“Yes?”

“That line of reasoning works much better when you’re not talking to someone who’s also turned into a maniacal murder demon.”

“But you did that by yourself, didn’t you? You weren’t peer-pressured into it.” Twilight shrugged. “So, hey! That denotes strength of character.” 

“You’re really trying to cheer me up here, aren’t you.”

“Desperately, yeah.” Twilight waved a hand. “I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be so open about it, but I’m bad at this? Might as well be honest.” Then she turned in her chair, facing the three screens again. “They found a car, this time,” she said, pointing at the map. “Around here.”

Sunset frowned, and with a grunt scooted even closer, jumped out of the bed, and peeked over Twilight’s shoulder. “A car?” she asked. “They found graffiti on a car?”

“Paint job.”

Which made Sunset frown even harder. She had bags under her eyes. “So it’s spreading?”

“It’s…” Twilight rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s been spreading for a while, actually.”

What followed was the kind of awkward silence that, had they been strangers, would have been extremely uncomfortable. Sunset and Twilight were best friends, though, so it was just very, very mortifying.

Because in that moment, Sunset realized that this hadn’t been the first time Twilight had told her about this. Probably not the second time, either. Or the third. Sunset had been pretty much living in Twilight’s home the last few days. This was the kind of topic that Twilight would monologue about at length. 

And Sunset had been paying absolutely no attention whatsoever. And now Twilight knew, and Sunset knew she knew, and Twilight knew she knew she knew.

So, awkward silence.

And then Sunset lowered her head, sitting back on the bed. “Sorry,” she said. “For real. I’ve—I’m really, really sorry. I can’t stop thinking about it, can’t focus on anything else.”

Twilight shook her head. “No problem. I get it.”

“I shouldn’t be this obsessed, you know. I’m the one who broke up with her. But I still feel like garbage?”

Twilight stole another look at her charts—she ached to pay them a little bit more attention—but then focused on Sunset. “That’s perfectly normal,” Twilight said. “I wouldn’t overthink it.”

“Yes. You’re right.” Sunset nodded, squinted. “I am garbage.”

“No, no, not that. Look.” Twilight replied with the utter confidence of someone who’s never been in a serious relationship. “I know this is tough, but—you just broke up with your first real girlfriend. Of course you feel terrible! That’s how humans work.”

Sunset flopped. Her feet were still dangling off the bed, but now she was laying down. “I’m a horse.”

“Pony.”

“Whatever.” Sunset grabbed Twilight’s pillow, and pressed it against her face. “Urrrrrrgggh.”

Pause.

Sunset kicked her legs up and down. “URRRRRRGGGGH.”

And that got a chuckle out of Twilight.

She moved from the chair to the bed, patting Sunset’s knee. “Sunset.” They’d had this conversation at least five times by now, but it was the kind of thing that bears repeating until it sticks. “You’re feeling sad, and lonely, and Dash is a good person. Your knee-jerk reaction is to feel guilty, but it’ll pass.”

Sunset didn’t take the pillow off. Her face was completely covered. But she stopped kicking her legs up and down. “Promise?” she asked, voice muffled.

“Promise. Time heals these things. I mean, downside is you have to wait, but—”

“UURRRRRRRGGGH.” 

“Okay, or I guess you can just do that.” Twilight patted her leg again. “I’m really sorry, Sunset. Honest. I hate that you’re going through this.” She hesitated for a moment. “I, uh, I can’t say I can relate to your very specific situation, but I do know a thing or two about, you know. Debilitating emotional turmoil and all that. So…”

Sunset sighed, and finally got the pillow away from her face. Her hair was a mighty mess. “You know what,” she said, looking at Twilight without getting up. “I think I’ve got it. I’ve cracked the code.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I just hate myself a lot, and that’s why I did this.”

“Oh!” Twilight sprung up, eyes sparkling. “I can relate with that!”

And Sunset squinted. “Okay, like. I know I’m going through a bit of a crisis, so I’m really not equipped to deal with this right now?” She pointed at Twilight. “But that is not how you’re supposed to react to that line.”

Twilight seized Sunset’s knee and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Listen. You’re sad now, but it’s perfectly normal to be sad. Do you want to talk about it in depth? Maybe that would help?”

Sunset covered her eyes with an arm. “I’d rather not.” Then she took a deep breath, and with a “hup!” she got up, and wobbled to her feet. “Let’s go back to work. Sounds like a better idea.”

Twilight shot her a warm look, and then clapped her hands. “Right.” Then she moved back to her chair, and her delicious charts. “Okay. So, uh, how up to date are you on this whole thing?”

“A graffiti came to life and tried to murder Applejack. Then I broke up with Dash, and then there’s like four days of white noise and now I’m here.”

“Wonderful.” Twilight zoomed in on the map so they could read the names of the streets. “Well, it started with graffiti, yes, but the ambient magic keeps rising.” She highlighted one of the charts. “So, yeah, it’s spreading to other things. Writing seems to come to life more often? The words pop out and wrap around your neck.”

Sunset winced, and rubbed her collarbone. “Ouch.” Then she nodded at the map. “Only happens in the Docks?”

“Highest density of graffiti around, so it’s probably just that.” Twilight frowned. “And we’re the only ones being attacked. We’re being targeted. And now paintings are coming to life, though only some of them. An actual one attacked Pinkie the other day. Framed and everything, oil on canvas.” 

“Right.” Sunset stopped massaging her collarbone, went on to massage her forehead. “This week keeps getting better and better, I guess. Are they okay? I haven’t seen them in forever.”

“Yeah, me neither. I miss them a lot, but we’ve all been busy.” That wasn’t the reason why the gang hadn’t come together in the last few days at all, but Twilight knew better than to say the truth. “But they’re fine. Pinkie is Pinkie, so she wasn’t particularly traumatized, and Applejack's exactly as tough as she looks. So.”

Sunset nodded. “So they’re both out there with Fluttershy? Fighting at the Docks?”

Twilight paused, and then looked at Sunset. “Er.”

Which made Sunset frown. “Ah. Right. Applejack’s with Rainbow, isn’t she. Ugh.” She grabbed Twilight’s pillow, hugged it against her chest. “Why do we keep coming back to her? Every time I try to change the subject I end up in the same place.”

And then she flopped backwards till she was laying down.

And she pressed the pillow against her face.

“URRRGGGGGH. It’s so pathetic!”

“…Ride it out, Sunset,” Twilight said. She was going to get a headache, she could feel it. She pinched the space between her eyes and focused back on the screens. “It’ll pass. You feel bad because you’re a good person, but—”

Sunset peeked from under the pillow. “Pony.”

“Horse, whatever.” Twilight shook her head. “Being distressed after your first real relationship ends is natural. There’s nothing pathetic about it.”

“Says you.”

“Says common sense. Everybody goes through it.” Twilight gave Sunset a look. “Trust me. This is a terrible situation, neither of you deserve it—and I guarantee you that Rainbow Dash is going through this exact same thing.” She winked. “And honestly? I’d be surprised if Applejack weren’t giving her the same advice. That’s what good friends are for. Helping you through the hard times.” 

“YOU.” AJ pointed at Dash. She was grinning. Her eyes were sparkling. “GOT DUMPED.”

Dash glared. “I hate you so much.”

“YEAH. 'CAUSE YOU GOT DUMPED.”

And then AJ swung her sledgehammer around and sent a sentient drawing flying. Still grinning. Because they were surrounded, exhausted, and fighting for their lives.

And it was great.

The Docks as a place was the physical manifestation of tasting blood in your mouth. This particular part of it had been a parking lot long ago—but it was full of banisters, and broken stairs, and ramps, so it’d been re-purposed as an impromptu skate park. 

Which meant, of course, that it was completely covered in graffiti.

“Okay! For the last time!” Dash sidestepped and twirled around, gracefully dodging three bright flying neon letters—conveniently reading D I E, in fact—roughly the size of a cow. The things were three-dimensional, floaty, and really itching to get a grip on Dash’s neck. “It doesn’t count as dumping if we both agree it’s a good idea!”

“Does too!” Applejack was not one to gracefully dodge anything. She just raised the sledgehammer, and then brought it down on the word that’d been giving her trouble. It read S K 8, and it went down in one hit, flattening against the ground like an overripe banana. “Who brought it up again? You, or Sunset?”

“Her, but only on a technicality!” The D I E made another pass, and Dash just ducked under it, then gave it a good kick from behind. “Like, okay, she did mention ending the relationship, she did in the context of talking about the idea—”

Applejack brought the sledgehammer down on the S K 8 once more, and then grinned at Dash. “Someone’s grasping at straws.”

“I’m totally not! See what she said is, we should talk about it, and we did, and only then she—” 

“Dumped you?”

Dash glared, and then round-kicked the flying word, throwing it against a nearby wall. “Common agreement. Double dumping. I had a say in the matter!”

“Nah, you didn’t.” Applejack swept the sweat off her brow, gave a final look at her murder graffiti and, content with how dead it looked, rested the sledgehammer on the ground. “Y’know, Sunset ain’t like you and me. She’s more like Rarity, right?” Applejack waved a hand in the air. “Kind of lady-like?”

“She’s…” Dash thought about it. “I mean, I guess she’s like a mix between Rarity and me?”

“And you went out with her!” Applejack shot Dash a single fingergun. “Good taste. But, yeah, that’s what I mean, right? Like…” She pointed at her chest. “Y’know that thing they say? If the girlfriend’s top and bottom underwear match, you ain’t really the one who chose how far the date would go?”

This made Dash squint. Immediately. “I’m… familiar with it, yes.”

“Right. And you said Sunset brought this whole thing up outta nowhere?”

“Er.”

“So what I’m sayin’ is, this is like. Emotional underwear.” AJ shrugged. “She picked it. You didn’t have a say in the matter.” She grinned again. “Which means that you got dump—”

Her voice was cut short.

A rogue word was choking the life out of her.

Even Dash took a moment to react. The word was smaller than the other two, so it had probably been hiding all this time, waiting for a chance to strike. The style—bright, orange, bulbous—was the same as the other two, so it obviously came from the same graffiti, but this one was smaller, just two letters: O R.

The ‘O’ was the problem. It had surrounded Applejack’s neck in its circle, and now it was tightening. Applejack fell to her knees, eyes bulging out, face purple.

“AJ!”

Dash was next to Applejack in a heartbeat, trying to break the words off, but there was no use. They were harder than steel, and the ‘R’ kept kicking Dash away—so instead of struggling, she raced to her backpack, started rummaging through it.

“Give me a moment! Give me just a moment! A second!”

Applejack didn’t reply. She just kept on not breathing.

A vein on her temple grew thicker and thicker, until it seemed about to burst.

And then the words disappeared.

They vanished into thin air and dust, and Applejack got a mouthful of air in her lungs. It tasted sweet, so she got another, and then another, and so on.

“AJ! You okay?” Dash’s voice, again. 

Applejack swallowed and coughed once before getting on all fours, and looking around. Dash was racing to her again, and behind her—a wall covered in graffiti. Only, in the middle of it there was a blank space, in the shape of the words that had come flying off, trying to kill them.

Or, there had been a blank space.

Now it was covered with black spray paint.

“Applejack!” Dash kneeled next to her and patted her back with one hand. “That was close! We should really start paying more attention during fights. You hurt?”

AJ swallowed once more, and then gave Dash a grin. Her breath was slowing down. “I’ve been better,” she said. Then she looked at Dash’s hand, the one that wasn’t on her own back. “Quick thinkin’ there.”

“Eh?” Dash looked at her hand, too. She was holding a can of black spray paint. “Ah. Yeah. You’re welcome.”

Applejack nodded. “Much appreciated, yeah. Saved my life and all that.” She gave one last cough and got up on wobbly legs, with Dash’s help. Then Applejack pointed at the wall. “You painted over it?”

“Oh, yeah.” Dash gave her a cocky grin, and then flipped the can of paint in her hand. “If you destroy the canvas or the wall or whatever, the words disappear. I figured, well, this is graffiti, so if I just cover it in black squiggles…?”

That got an impressed look out of AJ. “You reckon? How in the name of tarnation did you figure that out?”

“It’s how Pinkie got rid of that freaky framed painting. She just burned the canvas.” 

“Clever girl.” Applejack nodded, and then—neck still looking red, but overall much better—she dusted her shoulder and picked up the sledgehammer she’d dropped. “So anyway. We were sayin’.”

Dash’s eyes went wide. “Oh, come on, don’t—”

“You got dumped.”

“COME ON!”

“You didn’t have a say in the matter! You said Sunset brought it up outta nowhere, right?” Applejack elbowed Dash on the side. “So you hadn’t even thought about it. But she had. For a while, I bet.”

Dash glared, and then shoved the can of spray paint in her backpack, and rummaged through it some more.

“So.” Applejack winked at her. “Someone did break up with you. You ain’t truly indumpable.”

“That’s not a word.”

“And if you got dumped, that means that I won—”

Dash turned around, and slapped a bunch of bills into Applejack’s hand. “You won that stupid bet, yes! Here’s your money!” 

“Thaank you.” Applejack did a mock curtsey—surprisingly good, irony aside; you could tell Fluttershy had taught her well—and then pocketed the money. “Always a pleasure doin’ business with you.”

Rainbow Dash huffed, and then threw her backpack over her shoulder. “Sure, whatever.” And then softer, under her breath: “I can’t believe I got dumped. Me. Rainbow Dash!”

“Gotta say.” Applejack rested her hands on her hips, and gave Dash a good look: up and down. “Never thought I’d see the day myself.”

Dash looked at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! You’re a good catch, Dash. You know that.” Applejack took a step closer, and then slapped Dash’s back. “I only bet against you ‘cause you were braggin’. It’s my job to make fun of you whenever you’re braggin’.” She shrugged. “Also, ‘cause I’m always right.”

Dash winced at the slap, and then clicked her tongue again. “Lucky break.” Then, softer again: “I can’t believe I got dumped.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

There was a pause. 

And then Rainbow Dash smirked. Smiled. Snickered. “I got dumped,” she repeated, looking at Applejack. “I got dumped! Sunset dumped me!”

Applejack was nodding, arms crossed. The spark in her eye when she looked at Rainbow was one of pride, undoubtedly. “She sure did.”

“She single-handedly broke up the relationship, didn’t she? Hah!” Dash scratched the back of her head, and let out a guffaw. “She totally did!”

And here’s when Applejack passed an arm over Dash’s shoulders, and gave her a good squeeze. “Which means…?”

Rainbow knew what she meant. “Which means,” she said, leaning into the half-hug, “that I don’t have to feel bad for Sunset. It’s not my fault that she’s alone now. Is that what you want me to say?”

“I’m just sayin’, you didn’t have a say in the matter.” 

“So I should stop worrying about her.” Dash nodded. “Gotcha.” Then she elbowed Applejack. “I can just worry about myself?”

“I’m givin’ you permission to be completely self-centered.” Applejack waggled her eyebrows. “Y’know. For a change.”

“Pfff.” Dash hesitated, but then gave in—and turned the half-hug into a full hug, wrapping AJ in her arms. “Thanks,” she said. And then she let her go. “You’re a good friend.”

“I’m the best,” Applejack said. “Moment you wanna feel all miserable, cry a little ‘n so on? That’s what I’m here for.”

“Gosh, doesn’t that sound like a plan.” Dash shook her head, and then made a move to walk out of the skate park. Applejack followed. “Talking feelings, right. I say we just patrol around some more and then that’s it?”

“Please, Dash.” AJ rolled her eyes. “In like, three hours, you’ll be wailin’ ‘bout your heartache.”

“Bite me.”

“I could! You ain’t got a girlfriend now.”

Dash winced.

“See?” Applejack nodded to herself. “Sensitive. Trust me, you’ll get goin’. I know you.” And then they made it to the skate park exit, and turned a corner left, into the darkness of the street. “Not to say we can’t patrol some more, though. Reckon there are still plenty of paintings out there achin’ for a lil’ bit of action.”

“Now we’re talking.” Dash gave her a smirk, and then looked around. “Say. Mind if I ask a dumb question?”

“Never see you ask one that wasn’t, might as well go off.”

“How come this place is called the Docks?”

Pinkie Pie saw the gun pointed at her face, and sighed. “I wish Rainbow Dash was here.” 

The one with the gun was a woman. She was a grey figure with no features except for the word ‘CENSORSHIP’ written in bold letters across her face. She cocked the gun.

And Rarity popped up from behind her, and smashed her head inwards with a metal chain. 

It sounded like a baseball bat hitting a pumpkin full of custard, like getting slapped in the ear with a wet towel. Bits of grey paint flew around, splashing Pinkie’s face and hair.

Which made her pout, and sigh again. “She’d be having so much fun right now.”

It was late at night, and everybody who mattered was still alive. 

There were no meetings in the Docks, there were only ambushes. It was impossible to find a straight street in there: they all bent left and right, bobbed up and down and made it so you simply couldn’t take a look at your surroundings. It was an open space actively trying to be claustrophobic.

This street in question, the one Pinkie, Rarity, and Fluttershy had wandered into, wasn’t an exception. It was tiny, serpentine, full of corners at odd angles. The houses around were of red brick, and the walls were plastered with graffiti.

“Pinkie Pie?” Rarity whipped the chain around in the opposite direction, to clean the paint off, all the while looking at Pinkie. “Are you okay? It’s so weird to see you not laughing when there’s a gun at your head.”

Pinkie stuffed her hands in her pockets, and then kicked a pebble. “I’m fine,” she said, looking down. “I’m just not having fun right now.”

“What?”

“Girls?” Fluttershy walked into the frame. She was covered in paint, most of it red, and holding the baseball bat. The baseball bat was bent at a perfect ninety degree angle. “I’m done over there. We can…” And then she saw that Pinkie Pie was slouching, and she covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh, no! What happened? Pinkie, are you okay? Did the monster with the gun not point it at your head?”

“She did!” Rarity said, wrapping the chain around her hand and inching closer to Pinkie. “And she’s still not having fun!”

“What?”

Pinkie kicked another pebble. She looked up, saw her two friends looking at her with abject horror in their faces, and sighed again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you’re trying your hardest.”

“Clearly not hard enough, dear.” Rarity went for her purse, took a handkerchief, and grabbed Pinkie’s face. “What’s wrong?” she asked, rubbing the gray paint off Pinkie’s cheek. “Are you tired? Did your self-preservation instincts finally kick in?”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

“It’s just—” Pinkie frowned. “Princess Twilight is coming!”

Fluttershy perked up. “Princess Twilight? She’s coming here you mean?”

Rarity frowned at the bit of paint that wasn’t coming off, blew some hot breath on the handkerchief and then rubbed a bit harder. “Well, that sounds like wonderful news, dear.”

“Yeah, but—” Pinkie had to close one eye once Rarity started cleaning her cheekbone. “We can’t even go see her! She’s going to Twilight’s house!”

“Oh.” Fluttershy took off her backpack, opened it, and put the baseball bat in. The new L-shape made it so much easier to fit it in. “Right. We should probably not go there. Sunset doesn’t feel like seeing anybody right now.”

“Exactly! Ow, my eye.”

“Sorry, dear, just a little bit more.”

“It’s okay.” Pinkie looked at Fluttershy again. “Exactly! How long are we going to go on like this? We haven’t seen Sunset or Dash in ages!”

“It’s been four days,” Rarity said.

“Ages! Are we ever going to get back together, all of us? I don’t like adventures where only half of us are having fun.” Pinkie shot Fluttershy a pleading look. “We vandalized a car, and Sunset wasn’t even there!”

Fluttershy looked down. “It was a bit melancholic,” she admitted.

“Hmm.” Rarity gave a final look at Pinkie’s face, nodded, and then let her go. “Say, how do you know Princess Twilight is coming, anyway? I don’t recall anybody telling us.”

“Twilight sent me a message.” Pinkie took off her phone, showed it to Rarity. “She said I should tell you.”

“I miss the group chat,” Fluttershy muttered.

“We all do, dear.” Rarity folded the handkerchief, making sure the dirty bits were facing inwards, and stuffed it in her purse. She then immediately took a new, clean, completely identical handkerchief out. “Sit down on the curb, Pinkie, please? I need to clean your hair.”

“Okay!”

“And, I must add.” Rarity waited until Pinkie had obliged, and then she went on, grabbing individual strands of hair and carefully wiping the paint off. “I know you want to hang out with Sunset and Rainbow Dash, but the only thing we can do right now is wait. Breakups are messy things, and they need time.”

“But it’s not just that! I haven’t seen Applejack or Twilight in ages, either!” Pinkie looked up at Rarity. “And now I’m going to miss the other Twilight, too? Come on!”

“…It is a little frustrating,” Fluttershy said. “I miss them, too.” She sat down next to Pinkie. “At least when Twilight is the one having an emotional meltdown we can still hang out.”

“Yeah! Or when you have it.”

“This is different,” Rarity said. Cleaning paint off hair was almost impossible, but it hadn’t dried yet, so she had high hopes. “Both you and Twilight are very experienced with emotional crises, Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Second of all, it was both their first serious relationship, and with one of their best friends, at that. It’s nothing to scoff at.”

“I know! And we can’t even go and cheer them up.” Pinkie’s eyes went wide. “Wait. Wait a moment. What if we can?” She gasped. “What if we do?”

“No balloons,” Fluttershy said.

“No balloons,” Rarity agreed.

“With more than just balloons!” Pinkie said, grin already showing up in her face. “Rarity! We can help them get back together! That’d solve—”

“I refuse.”

“—everything oh, come on!”

“Help them get back together?” Fluttershy looked at Pinkie, hugging her backpack. “I hadn’t thought about that. Could we do that?”

Rarity made a face. “Well, I certainly could. I am exceptionally good at all matters related to the heart.” She kept working on Pinkie’s hair, separating it into three strands. “But it would be a terrible idea, wouldn’t it? I do believe their breakup is the best thing that could have happened, given the current situation.”

Fluttershy looked at her. “What?”

And Pinkie stared. “What!”

Rarity shook her head. “I dislike our current situation, yes, and I hate seeing them like this, but that relationship had to end. Surely you agree?”

Fluttershy bit her lip, and then looked down. “I… don’t know. They looked happy together.” She hugged her backpack more tightly. “Do you really think it’s a good thing they broke up?”

“In a way.” Rarity’s fingers moved through Pinkie’s hair almost too quick for the naked eye. “To be entirely honest, I believe the relationship shouldn’t have started in the first place. Breaking up was an inevitability, not something for us to fix. I’m just glad Sunset made the choice before it got truly ugly.”

“What!” Pinkie was still staring. She had never stopped staring. “How can it be uglier than this!”

Rarity shook her head. “Believe me, dear, it could be worse. Relationships are… tempting, yes, and I understand why they both wanted to be in one.” She sighed. “But you can’t use them to fix yourself. You must be your own person first, figure yourself out, and then start a relationship.” She, very poignantly, looked at Fluttershy when she said this. “That is not what Sunset, or Rainbow Dash, did.”

Fluttershy made a face. “Oh.”

Pinkie did not. “What?”

“Pinkie, you can’t use a relationship to be happy. That’s a burden you’re placing on your partner, and it’s not a fair one.”

Fluttershy nodded, and then looked at Pinkie. “I, uh.” She squinted. “I like Sunset Shimmer a lot? But she’s not the most, um, emotionally stable person I’ve ever met. And this is me saying that.”

“Mmm-hm.” Rarity pulled a bit from Pinkie’s hair, to straighten it up, and then kept on working. “Fluttershy is perfectly right. Like it or not, the truth is, Sunset was probably using Rainbow Dash as an emotional crutch at times.”

“Oooh.” Pinkie said. “Even though Rainbow Dash has zero emotional maturity? Because Rainbow Dash has zero emotional maturity.” She pointed at her face with a thumb. “And this is me saying that.”

The look Rarity gave the both of them at that point could only be described as the purest form of love. “Girls,” she said, hand to her chest. “I truly do not know what I would do without you at times like these.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re great too!”

“And so, yes.” Rarity finished her work on Pinkie’s hair, and stepped aside. “I was against their relationship from the start, to be entirely honest, but obviously I couldn’t say that. I just tried to be happy for them, helped in any way I possibly could, and promised myself I would be there for them when they inevitably crashed and burned.” 

Fluttershy smiled, and then got up from the curb, dusting her skirt. “You’re a good friend, Rarity.”

“Of course, dear. It’s the least I could be.” Rarity looked around, hands on her hips. “Also, I just dawned on me that we spent the last ten minutes gossiping in an alleyway full of graffiti? Which is absolutely fine by me, but it feels needlessly risky.”

“It’s not!” Pinkie said, getting up too. “We fought all the drawings already! All that’s left is—” She stopped, frowned, and patted her head. Then she looked at Rarity. “Did you just braid my hair?”

“Yes.”

“Cool!” And then Pinkie pointed at the wall. “It’s just signatures left! We’re never attacked by signatures. It’s always complete sentences. Or drawings!”

“Oh?” Rarity blinked, and looked at the wall too. Pinkie was right—there were a lot of things written on the wall, but it was all names, or variations of ‘so and so was here’. “My. I had never noticed that.”

“Me neither,” Fluttershy said. “Do you think we should tell Twilight?”

“Probably, yes.” Rarity then looked at Pinkie again. “Are you feeling better now, dear? Did the blues go away?”

Pinkie grinned. “Hahah.” Then she deflated. “Not at all.”

“My.” Rarity smiled, and then hugged Pinkie by the shoulders. “Well, you should feel proud of yourself instead! Fluttershy and I would have never noticed that signatures don’t attack us.”

Pinkie gave her a look. “Really?”

“I could be instigating a coup d’état right now, but I won’t, because you’re so good at this.” She gave her a squeeze. “And that braid looks wonderful on you, by the way.”

The Pinkie look turned into a smile. “Thank you.”

Fluttershy was typing on her phone, but after she heard Pinkie say this, she put it down. “I was messaging Twilight,” she explained when Rarity shot her a quizzical look. “She says it sounds important, and that we did a good job noticing.”

“See?”

Pinkie nodded. “Yeah.” And then she looked down. “I still miss them a lot.”

And Rarity sighed. “We all do, dear,” she said. “We all do.”

Fluttershy didn’t say anything. She simply walked by their side as Rarity kept on talking, cheering Pinkie up in increasingly less subtle ways, and wondered. There was a question she’d been meaning to ask Rarity: Even if Sunset and Dash got over it, would it ever be the same? Would the group survive two of their members being each other's ex-girlfriend?

But she never got around to asking it. Because Rarity always said the truth when it came to these things, and Fluttershy was pretty sure the truth would make Pinkie Pie really, really sad.

“Clothes!” Princess Twilight looked down, at her skirt and shirt and boots, and repeated: “Clothes! I had forgotten about the clothes. They’re always a surprise!”

Regular Twilight looked at her. “…Really?”

“Yeah! It’s like Rarity conquered this world but nobody noticed.”

The place was Canterlot High School, and the time was way too late for any reasonable student to walk around the facilities. How fortunate, then, that the only ones in there were Twilight Sparkle and a second, less mature Twilight Sparkle. They walked side by side, and it was…

It was weird. That’s what it was. Because Regular Twilight knew for a fact that they were identical, that the only thing telling them apart was the hair and the glasses. But still, whenever they talked, she couldn’t shake off this odd feeling—

Princess Twilight always seemed so much taller.

“But enough about me. We’ve got a lot of work to do,” the princess was saying at that point, as they passed under a streetlight, shadows playing on her face. “Sentient graffiti, right? I’ve never had to deal with something like that.” 

“Yeah, it’s…” Twilight bit her lip. “It’s not the weirdest thing we’ve ever fought? But it’s got the worst timing so far, and we’re…” She squinted. “We’re not exactly fighting as a team right now. I haven’t seen most of the girls in days, and we barely have the time to talk lately.”

This made the princess wince. “It’s… really difficult to deal with magical problems without the power of friendship on your side. I’m not sure if it’s safe to—”

“We gave Fluttershy the baseball bat.”

“—Okay, you’re fine.” Pause. “Does Pinkie have the knife?”

“Yes.”

“You’re perfectly fine. I still think friendship is by far the best option, but…” The princess waved a hand in the air. “What bothers me is why it’s only attacking you girls, and what even is it that you’re fighting. Wild Equestrian magic follows patterns; it needs a source to dictate them." 

“Right, well. Yeah.” They turned around a corner. Halfway to Twilight’s house, now—it was a short way. “Something got possessed by magic and now it has spooky powers, right?” Twilight said. “That’s how it always goes.”

“Yes,” the princess said, looking around at the empty street. No graffiti in sight. “But the spooky powers follow a pattern, is what I mean. What kind of graffiti attacks you?”

Twilight shook her head. “It’s not only graffiti, it’s also… Hold on.” She went for her phone. “It’s more than just graffiti, but a while ago Fluttershy messaged me they’d found some kind of pattern, that—” She paused. She’d tapped on the wrong chatroom, and that made her sigh. “I miss the group chat.”

The princess was looking at her, and the phone, with total bewilderment. “What?”

“Nothing.” Twilight opened the other chat log, the one with Fluttershy only. They hadn’t gotten around to creating a second group chat—it felt backstabby—so now they all talked exclusively through private messages, and that was extra depressing. “Signatures never attack,” she said. “It’s always complete sentences.”

“Oh?” The princess blinked, and rubbed her chin. “That’s… interesting. That’s really interesting.”

“Also, we’re almost there.” Twilight put her phone back in her pocket—not without sighing one last time—and then pointed at her house. “That’s my house.”

“That one?” The princess pointed too, not without a smile. “Wow. It looks exactly like my childhood home. Only everything isn’t at mouth level. Sunset’s waiting there, you said?”

Twilight blinked, frowned. “…Mouth level?”

“Ponies. No hands.” The princess wiggled her fingers in the air, and then nodded at the house. “Sunset. How is she doing?”

Ah. There it was. Twilight had been wondering how long it would be till the topic came up. “Sunset’s… struggling,” she said. “She’s trying. She’s really trying! But it’s been four days, and she can’t think about anything but the breakup yet.” She looked at the princess. “Oh, by the way, she will ask you if she’s annoying you, and apologize for talking only about Dash.”

The princess blinked, cocked her head to the side. “She’s self-aware?”

“Enough to know she’s doing it, not enough to stop.”

“Ah, yes. The sweet spot of shame. I’m familiar with it.”

Twilight nodded. “Yeah. So it’s very important that you tell her she’s not annoying you. No matter how many times it comes up? Just say you don’t mind, and then ask her something that shows you were paying attention, please.”

The princess gave her a curious look, and then smiled, placing a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “You’re a wonderful friend, Twilight Sparkle,” she said. “I’m glad Sunset has someone like you by her side.”

“Right.”

“That does sound exhausting to deal with, though.” The princess let Twilight go, and then linked her hands behind her back as they kept on walking. “And unless you’re nothing like me, you’re probably not very good at dealing with…?”

“I am terrible at this,” Twilight said. “I love Sunset, I really do, but—she talks about nothing but the breakup, all day every day. She’s practically lived in my house for the last four days, and I can’t really help, all I can do is sit there, and nod, and be supportive, and…” She grit her teeth—and then slouched, and shot the princess an ashamed look. “Am I a bad friend?” she asked.

The princess smiled. “No. You’re just a pony.”

“Human.”

“Whatever.” The princess waved a hand. “You’re a really good friend, Twilight Sparkle; the best Sunset could ask for. You just need a break. Why don’t you go hang out with Pinkie and the rest?” She elbowed Twilight on the side. “We still need to find out what pattern the graffiti follows, so you being out there would be of great help.”

Twilight swallowed. “That sounds good,” she said. “Do you really think I should?”

“Absolutely. I’ll take over Sunset. I’ve known her for years, too, so I’m sure it won’t be that difficult.”

Sunset was hugging Twilight’s pillow, eyes bloodshot. “I hate myself!” she said. “I had one good thing going, the one reason I woke up every morning, and then I just broke up with her. With Dash. I’m the one who broke up with her. And I’m like this. And you know what the worst part is?”

She looked at Twilight and Princess Twilight.

Twilight and Princess Twilight looked back.

“It was the right thing to do,” Sunset whispered. “It was absolutely the right thing to do. I had a good thing going, something that made me happy and feel good about myself, and the only right choice was to destroy it.”

And then she laid down, face up, grabbed Twilight’s pillow with both hands.

And pressed it against her face.

“URRRRRRGGGGH.”

Princess Twilight blinked. She hadn’t had the time to say ‘hi’ yet. They’d opened the door to Regular Twilight’s bedroom, and that’s how Sunset Shimmer had greeted her. 

So the princess turned around to look at Regular Twilight.

And Regular Twilight smiled, and placed a hand on the princess’ shoulder. “No backsies.”

“No backsies!”

“Applejack, I didn’t say you can’t chokehold a lion, I say you didn’t need to—”

“I said no backsies!”

Dash pinched the space between her eyes. Applejack tightened her hold.

And the lion whimpered.

The abandoned train station at the Docks had once been a glorious sight, a beast of glass and metal—nowadays, it was a shame. It wasn’t even cool in a ruinous, punk-rock sort of way; it was simply covered in rust, and mold, and broken bottles all around. 

And graffiti, of course.

“You can just paint over the wall!” Dash was crouching behind Applejack—and the lion—waving her arms in the air. “That’s what I meant! Just, grab this can of spray paint, go to the—”

“Hup!” Applejack wiggled around, and then she rolled over the lion, still holding its neck in a chokehold, and wrestled it to the ground. “There ya go!” She held it in place while the lion kept whimpering, kept struggling to get free. Didn’t work in the slightest. “Gimme a second, sugarcube.”

Dash opened her mouth, and then closed it. Squinted. “Are you talking to me or to the lion?”

“Both!” Pause. “Wait, no. To you. Lion ain’t movin’ anymore.” And then AJ just got up, hoped over the lion, and dusted her hands. “There ya go! Successfully choked a lion into submission. Anythin’ to say?”

Dash glared.

Applejack smirked.

And Dash threw her hands in the air. “Fine! You win!” She slapped some money into Applejack’s hand, and then turned around, huffing. “I don’t know why I keep betting against you!”

“Me neither! But keep doin’ it, it’s great.”

The abandoned train station was composed of one massive building, the railroads, and a smaller building at the other side. Applejack and Dash were inside the big building—it was the place with the most graffiti, after all, and they’d come here with a mission.

“Four attacks in ten minutes! We’re getting really good at this.” Dash looked at Applejack, and then frowned. “What are you doing?”

Applejack was on her phone. “Messagin’ Twilight.”

“Why?” 

“She said we gotta describe everythin’ that attacks us. We’re tryin’ to find out what’s goin’ on, remember?” She got the phone closer to her face, and stuck her tongue out as she typed. “A lion… and a giant… floatin’… face.” Applejack sighed. “ I miss the group chat. Much more convenient.” Then she blinked, put the phone down, and looked around. “Where’s the giant floatin’ face, by the way?”

“Uh.” Dash pointed over her shoulder. Behind them, there was an entire wall covered in black paint. “Vanished,” she said.

“What!” And Applejack’s eyes went wide, and she almost dropped her phone. “You used the paint instead of fightin’ the face by yourself?”

“Y—yeah?”

“You did the smart thing? The safe thing?” Applejack’s face went from surprise to genuine concern in a split second. “That ain’t normal. Are you okay?”

“I mean…”

“Dash, c’mon.”

Dash looked at Applejack—covered in dust and sweat, eyes sweet like caramel apples—and then sighed and clicked her tongue. “Ugh, whatever. Finish your thing first.”

Applejack frowned, but she did go back to her phone. “Okay,” she said. “And a giant floatin’ face… and Dash covered the wall in paint.” She looked up. “Did you pick up if the drawings had anythin’ in common with each other?”

Dash rubbed the back of her neck. “Uh, kinda? I’m not the most artistic person out there.”

“Sugarcube, I’m Applejack.”

“Right, okay, yes, I’m the Rarity in the room right now.” Dash looked around, puffing air from her cheeks, hands on her hips, and then she squinted. “They’re the… good drawings? Okay, don’t give me that look, I saw the giant floating face.” She waved a hand in the air. “But they’re, like, elaborate? You can sorta tell when one’s going to attack you, right?”

That made Applejack look up from the screen.

To be honest, Rainbow Dash had a point. Applejack could see a lot of graffiti from here—most of it mere squiggles, a couple people who’d signed their name, that sort of thing—but the ones that had come to life were the ones with passion. The ones that’d clearly taken hours, maybe days to finish. Not necessarily the ones that looked the best, but…

“The ones with heart,” Applejack said, frowning. She looked around—there was another graffiti over there, by the door, and that one was elaborate too, but all it showed was Sapphire Shores’ face. It was accurate, but also clinical-looking. A show of skill more than anything. “The ones that mattered to whoever was painting ‘em?” she asked, looking back at Dash. “You reckon?”

Dash made a face. “I don’t know, don’t ask me.”

Applejack typed some. “Guess the skate park one was also pretty passionate. ‘Skate or die’, that sounds like serious business.” Then AJ put her phone down, skipped over to Dash, and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Okay! That’s that. What’s on your mind, now. Why are you mopin’.”

“I’m not moping!”

“You’re huffin’.” Applejack checked her wrist and hummed. “Three hours exactly! Called it.”

“Gaagh.” Dash shoved Applejack off, but then she immediately elbowed her, and smiled. “Shut up. I’m just thinking about Fluttershy, is all.”

“Aaaah.” Applejack’s smirk became a little bit forced. “Thinkin’ about Shy. Right. Uh.”

Rainbow Dash squinted. And in that moment, she gave Applejack goosebumps, because—for a second, for just a second, she did look like Rarity.

“What do you mean, ‘um’?”

“Er.”

They left the building together—Applejack had to pry the door open; it was stuck—and jumped down to the rails. Then they headed way for the smaller building, and at no point did they stop talking.

“Oh my gosh.” Dash went pale, and then hugged herself. “Oh my gosh you already knew about Fluttershy.”

“Err.”

“Applejack, that is not helping.”

“Okay, calm down, sugarcube.” Applejack rose a hand, and then took the lead, walking in front of Dash. “Maybe I’m wrong, we have never talked about this, so—”

Dash squinted. “Who else.”

“What?”

“Who else knows about Fluttershy.”

Here it was again, the Rarity face. Applejack could’ve lied—she was tempted to—but then chose not to. Honesty was always the best remedy, and unpleasant as this was gonna be, maybe it’s what Dash needed. “…Rarity, too,” she admitted. “We haven’t talked about it, but we both noticed that…”

“What about Twilight?” Dash interrupted. “Pinkie Pie?”

“…You really askin’ if those two can pick up social context clues? Seriously?”

Dash opened her mouth to reply—and then closed it. “Right. But you and Rarity know?”

“Eeeeh.” Applejack shrugged. “I just picked up somethin’, is all. As I said, it’s not like we’ve talked about it.” She bit her lip, and then looked at Dash. “So just to be sure—what is it that we might know about Fluttershy?”

It took a moment for Dash to reply.

And then she took a deep breath, and let it out. “I think I used to have a crush on her.” 

Pause.

And Applejack glared. “What?” she yelled. “You think?! Are you kiddin’ me?!”

“Oh, for the love of—”

“You spent like five years goin’ after her, puppy eyes and all, meltin’ as soon as she looked, and you think you had a—you walked hand in hand!”

“We were kids!”

“You ain’t walked hand in hand with your father in all your life, and then you’d just go around clingin’ to Shy like a—”

“I don’t know why I bother. I don’t know why I bother!” Dash stopped dead in her tracks, rubbing her forehead. “You,” she pointed at Applejack, “are the single least sensitive person I’ve ever met. And this is me saying it! I should’ve hung out with Rarity.”

“That—!” Applejack blinked, and then she slouched. “Aw, shucks. That’s completely fair. Sorry, sugarcube.”

“Yeah, well, easy for you to say that now.”

“Aw, but, c’mon. So you had a crush on Fluttershy. Who cares?” Applejack rolled her eyes, and then went to Dash and tried to punch her shoulder. Dash dodged, which made AJ wince, but she went on talking. “I mean, you said ‘used to’, right? So if you’re both over it…”

Rainbow Dash glared. “Right. Because I’m over it. Sure.”

Applejack blinked. “What?” she asked. “Uh. You mean you ain’t—?”

“Applejack, do you really think we’d be having this conversation if I—”

“Okay! Okay.” Applejack raised both her hands in the air. “Call me Pinkie Pie, cause I ain’t gettin’ this complex social situation. So you used to have a crush on Fluttershy. Why does that matter?”

“Because,” Dash glared, enunciating every word with perfect, accurate diction, “I didn’t know I had a crush on Fluttershy until Sunset Shimmer.”

Another pause, now.

This one was considerably longer.

For all her shortcomings, Applejack wasn’t socially inept. She just had a system of her own, and that system, more often than not, required her to tease the truth out of Dash. But any good player knows when not to play their hand, and this was definitely a—

Well. Darn tootin’. This was definitely a What Would Fluttershy Do situation, bless the irony.

So Applejack took off her hat, and then sat down on the railroad, and looked up at Dash. “Whoa,” she said. “That’s… That’s somethin’.”

Rainbow Dash sighed. She unclenched her fists, and sat down next to AJ. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s something alright.”

“But what do you mean, you didn’t know?”

“I didn’t know I liked girls,” Dash said. No drama in her words, no theatrical flair. She just dropped it like that. “I’d never thought about it. I just thought, you know, maybe I just didn’t care about boys.”

Applejack nodded, and patted Dash’s back. “Right.”

“So I just thought, hey, Fluttershy’s cute, I’m so glad she’s my friend, I’m so glad she’s my best friend. It’s normal to be a bit obsessed about your best friend, if they’re cute, right.” Dash buried her face in her hands. “And like—I don’t know. I was a kid! Kids don’t think about these things.” She sighed. “I’m dumb. I’m an idiot. Years and years, and I just never picked up…”

“Right.” Applejack sighed. “Right. So you didn’t—you used to sneak into her sleepin’ bag when we went campin’ and you just never—”

Dash glared daggers. 

Applejack forced a smile. “—thought anythin’ about it cause that’s perfectly platonic behavior, yes. Would’ve confused anybody.”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes, but then she punched AJ on the shoulder, and that was a good sign. “Shut up,” she said. “Look, I just never thought about it, but then, I don’t know. Sunset asked me out.” She glanced at AJ. “Did you know she’s the one who asked me out?”

“You’ve literally bragged about it every day for three months.”

“I mean, she is pretty hot.” Dash shook her head. “And then she asked me out, and I had never even thought about it, right? Going out with a girl. But then I realized I wasn’t against it or anything. That I kind of liked it. And that got me thinking, and… You know, I realized a lot of things. And I felt like an idiot. Like I’d been embarrassing myself in public for years, it was so obvious and I just—”

“Dash, that’s not—you know that ain’t—”

“And I don’t even feel like that anymore!” The next outburst was so sudden it made Applejack jump, but Dash didn’t notice. She kept talking, looking at her hands. “I don’t—there’ll always be something, of course, it’s Fluttershy, but I don’t want to, to kiss her anymore, or to hug her that much, or to do stuff with her. She’s just a friend.” She swallowed, clenched her fists. “I mean it this time.”

“Sugarcube…” Applejack reached, slowly, and then set a hand on Dash’s shoulder. “Nobody thinks you embarrassed yourself. It makes sense you didn’t notice, I didn’t mean to make fun of—”

“She knows, AJ.” Dash looked at Applejack, and her eyes looked a bit wet. “She knows. And when I had Sunset it—it was awkward, but it didn’t matter, because I had a girlfriend, so we could just, we could pretend It had never happened. But now? What now? Can we hang out anymore?” She swallowed. “And what about the others? If you and Rarity know, can we even go back to the way we used to be? What if we can’t?” 

“Rainbow, no, that won’t…” Applejack brought her closer, into a hug. “That won’t happen, Rainbow Dash. You know that—even if it’s awkward, you know, Fluttershy loves you too, there’s no way we wouldn’t…”

“I don’t want to lose you.” Dash hugged her back, buried her head on Applejack’s shoulder. AJ let her. “I don’t want the group to break up just because I was an idiot. I don’t want to lose my friends.”

Applejack said nothing. She just stood there, hugging Dash, caressing her hair, and trying to swallow the lump in her own throat.

“Wait. Wait!” Princess Twilight grabbed Regular Twilight by the wrist, standing at the threshold of the latter’s bedroom, her voice an urgent whisper. “Twilight! Don’t go yet!”

Twilight peeked inside the room. Sunset was still trying to suffocate herself with a pillow; that gave them some time—so she glared at the princess. “Okay, first of all.” She took her phone out of her pocket. “All that stuff Applejack told me about the graffiti having some heart? I really should go check it with my own two eyes. Second of all, do the words ‘no backsies’ just, have no meaning in Equestria, or…?”

“No, it’s not that! Look, it just—” The princess pulled Twilight inside the room again, and then closed the door behind her. “I’m sorry, it just dawned on me.” Her eyes went wide. “I’m in your house!”

Pause.

Regular Twilight turned around to look at Sunset. “Is this how I sound like? This mild schizophrenia thing she’s got going on—am I like that, too?”

“Depends.” Sunset never took the pillow away from her face. “Is she freaking out?”

“Yeah.”

“Then yes, you’re kinda like that.”

“We both are,” the princess hushed, eyes still wide, still grabbing Twilight’s wrist. “But this isn’t about that! Just—Twilight,  I’m in your house. And you’re about to leave.”

Twilight frowned, looked around. “Uh. Yes?”

“No, you don’t get it! I am in your house!” The princess lowered her voice, inched closer to Twilight so she could hear her. “Do your parents know that I exist? A magical pony princess version of yourself?”

Twilight arched an eyebrow.

And then her eyes went wide, too. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh you’re in my house.”

“Right, now you’re getting it.”

“It just dawned on me that you’re in my—Dad’s gonna have a stroke.” Twilight took a step backwards, and sat on her own bed, next to Sunset. “I’m going to be guilty of patricide by association.”

“Want the pillow?” Sunset offered.

“No, thanks.”

“Good. I want to stay like this a little bit more.”

“Okay, let’s try not to kill your parents then.” The princess let go of Twilight, and then looked around the room. “Do you have any spare glasses? Some that I could wear?”

“…Yeah, in that closet, but—” Twilight blinked, frowned. “You want to disguise yourself as me?”

“I am you. It shouldn’t be that hard.” The princess thought about it. “Though, does your Shining Armor live here, too? Because I don’t think we’d be able to fool him.”

“You mean my brother?” Twilight shook her head, smiled at the thought. “He moved out ages ago.”

“Good!” The relief in the princess’ voice was palpable. “Okay, so he’s married to Cadance already. That makes everything so much easier.”

“Yeah!”

Another pause.

Twilight Sparkle’s smile froze. “He. He’s what.”

“Time moves differently between dimensions, Princess,” Sunset said from under the pillow.

“Oh. Uh-oh.”

“With Cadance?” Twilight’s pupils shrank. “The Crystal Prep principal? Do they even know each other?!”

“Okay! You still don’t—right, yes.” The princess rested her hands on her hips, and then looked up. “So, no Cadance, definitely no Flurry Heart. Gotcha.”

“Right. Right.” Twilight didn’t know what Flurry Heart meant, but she definitely knew she shouldn’t ask. “You know what? I’m sure you’ll do a great job fooling my parents into thinking you’re me. But, just in case?” She got up from the bed and headed for the desk. “Let me write them a note to reassure them I’m not, like. Having a total meltdown?”

The princess cleared her throat, a blush in her face. “Yes. That sounds like a reasonable thing to say,” she said. “Sorry. I’ve lived a long life.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Twilight found a pen and an old notebook, and wrote in big letters: WORLD IS IN DANGER. DON’T TALK TO ME. “This should do it.”

The princess peeked over her shoulder, and then squinted. “Ah. Yes.” She nodded. “That sounds like we’ve got such a strong grip on our mental faculties.”

“Don’t worry, it’s an old joke.” She gave the note to the princess. “I always write this when I need to focus on something lately, so they’ll get it.”

“…If you say so.”

“Yeah! Stick it on the door and they won’t bother you. Also, the room is soundproof, so you two can talk as much as you want.” Twilight turned to look at Sunset. “Sunset, I need to go out for a while, check out the graffiti that’s attacking the girls. Do you mind staying with Princess Twilight for a while?”

Sunset took the pillow off and gave them a look. “Does she mind being bored to tears by me?”

Twilight smiled. “Sunset, you’re not boring us. What you’re going through is perfectly normal.”

“And even if you were, I wouldn’t mind it,” the princess said. “I’m your friend, Sunset Shimmer. I care about you.” Then she shot Twilight a wild look. “Your room is soundproof?”

“And double-locked! When I started messing with powers beyond the mortal realm, we turned my bedroom into a panic room.” Twilight shrugged. “Mom says this isn’t a euphemism for puberty at all, but according to dad there’s, like, a lot of nuance to that statement, so—”

She stopped talking.

She stopped talking because the note in Princess Twilight’s hands was wiggling, moving by itself. It was bending, and folding, and the letters Twilight had just written were going up and down, coming to life, floating out of the page—

The princess tore the note in two with her hands, eyes intense. The words disappeared.

“Uh.” Twilight blinked, then looked at the pen, still in her hand. “That’s never happened—”

“It’s a message.”

Twilight knew that inflection. Either something good had happened, or something very bad was about to. “What?” she eyed the princess. “A message?”

“That’s the pattern we were looking for.” Princess Twilight looked down at the note in her hands, and tore it some more. “Applejack was kind of right, the ones that attack have passion, but it’s not about that. It’s about the meaning. Whatever has a hidden message, a non-literal meaning.” 

Twilight didn’t get it at first—but then it clicked. “The paint job. Rarity said it wasn’t a paint job, it was a statement. The gray lady with ‘CENSORSHIP’ on her face was on the nose, but it’s still not a lady, it’s a metaphor.”

“Skate or Die wasn’t just a graffiti, it was a declaration of intentions. Signatures never attack because they mean nothing, but complete sentences can have deeper meanings.” The princess tore the paper some more. “You write one thing, but it means something else. That fits. That’s the source we’re looking for.” 

“So someone sent a message that said a thing, but meant another,” Twilight said. “And that message got infected with wild Equestrian magic. And that’s why the words are coming to life?”

“They only attack you.” The princess wiggled the paper. “They activate when you’re nearby. You’re probably related to the—” 
 
And that’s when the shoe dropped.

The blood left Twilight’s face. Her mouth hung open, and she dropped the pen she was holding. “Oh my gosh,” she said, turning around to look at the bed. Sunset was staring at them, equally pale. “A message. Sunset, the attacks started the day you broke up with Rainbow Dash. That very same day.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sunset said.

The princess stopped fiddling with the note in her hands. “What?” And then she saw the way both girls looked. “Wait,” she said. “No. No way. You don’t mean—”

“Yes.”

“You can’t possibly be telling me that—”

“YOU BROKE UP WITH RAINBOW DASH THROUGH A TEXT?!”

“I can’t believe this.” Sunset was laying face-down on the bed. She didn’t have the strength to lift the pillow anymore. “Someone kill me.”

“THROUGH A TEXT?!”

Regular Twilight was sitting at her desk, checking the screens and her phone at the same time. “We all got the message; that’s why the graffiti attacks us in particular. Sunset’s phone must have gotten possessed, or maybe it was the inherent magic in—”

“Wait, what do you mean you all got the—” Princess Twilight blinked. “No. No way. Sunset, don’t tell me you—”

“Oh my gosh. I am so sorry.”

“YOU BROKE WITH DASH THROUGH A TEXT. IN THE GROUP CHAT.”

Sunset ground her face against the bed so hard her legs went up a little. “Okay,” she said. “Give me five, fifteen more minutes to loathe myself, and then I’ll save us all some time and jump in front of a train.”

“I have to say, Princess, I’m so glad you’re here right now.” Twilight swiveled around in her chair to check her other self. “You’re the best at cheering up people in distress. I’ve no idea what I’d do without you.”

“That’s—!” The princess blinked, blushed again. “Completely fair. Right, yes, I—sorry, Sunset. Just…” She shook her head, and then got on the bed, picked Sunset up and forced her to sit up. “Celestia, Sunset Shimmer, what were you thinking?”

Sunset looked at the princess. She didn’t struggle to keep pressing her face against a solid object, but you could tell she craved it. “I didn’t know I’d put us all in danger. I had no idea my phone was…”

The princess inched closer, caressed Sunset’s cheek. “Sunset, no, that’s not—of course you didn’t know. I don’t even care about that, Celestia knows I’ve done so much worse when it comes to magical accidents.” She wiggled around so she could be sitting next to Sunset, but still caressing her face. “I mean, with Rainbow Dash. What happened? This is not like you at all.”

Sunset squinted. “I’m pathetic,” she said, pulling away from the princess. “What else is there to know.”

“No, you’re not. You’re one of the bravest, smartest, kindest ponies I’ve ever met.”

“Human,” Twilight said.

“Both,” the princess said. “And it doesn’t matter. Just—what happened, Sunset? I understand you being down, of course you’d be down, but this isn’t normal.” She pulled Sunset closer again, squeezed one of Sunset’s hands between hers. “What happened? Why did you break up with Rainbow Dash, and why like this?”

Sunset looked away. Her first instinct was to hide under the covers, maybe even under the bed.

But here’s the thing.

Sunset Shimmer wasn’t a dumb person. She was in distress, she felt like garbage, she was garbage—but she wasn’t dumb. And she knew that sometimes questions are not about giving the right answer; they’re about being able to answer at all.

So Sunset fought against her own instincts, she fought against the nausea and the urge to jump out the window, and did the second hardest thing she’d done in her entire life:

She looked at Princess Twilight dead in the eye and told the truth. “Because I don’t think I would have been able to break up with her otherwise.”

And, at once, Regular Twilight got off her swivel chair and joined them at the bed, so the three of them were sitting in a circle. She grabbed Sunset’s other hand, and then both Twilights waited, in silence.

Sunset took the hint. “Look, it’s just, it was faster that way. I got the urge and I knew that it was then or never, so I just grabbed my phone and that was it.” She took a deep breath, calming herself down, and then looked up. “I still think it was the right thing to do, so I guess I don’t regret it, but—”

“Just because it was right doesn’t mean it was easy,” Twilight agreed, squeezing Sunset’s hand. “That’s how it is sometimes.”

The princess frowned. “But why the group chat?”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”

“Ah.”

“It was probably muscle memory. We always talk through the group chat,” Twilight said, leaning closer to the princess. “Or, well. We used to. It’s kind of difficult to go back now, seeing how the last messages are… I mean, Dash replied through the group chat, too. The whole thing happened there.”

The princess winced. “Ooof.”

“Dash was surprised about it,” Sunset said. “And then she got anxious, but I don’t think she was exactly hurt. I think she cared more about the Fluttershy thing than anything.” She bit her lip. “Which—I mean, I knew that would happen, but it still stung quite a bit.”

Silence.

Princess Twilight leaned towards Regular Twilight. “Fluttershy?” she whispered.

“Yeah, I have no idea either.”

“Right.” Princess Twilight cleared her throat, and then squeezed Sunset’s hand once more. “I’m sure Dash still cares about you, Sunset,” she said. “It’s just, breakups aren’t—”

“Easy? I know.” Sunset pulled until both her hands were free from the Twilights. “I only did it because Rainbow Dash would have never done it herself. I didn’t want to break up.”

“But then, why?”

“Because I had to!” Sunset barked, eyes sparkling—if just for a moment—with that old fire. “Princess, look at me! I’m a mess! I have anger issues, I have mood swings, I’ve been sad for four days and my first reaction was to impose myself on Twilight and make her life impossible!”

Twilight, Regular Twilight, reeled. She shook her head. “Sunset, you aren’t…”

“Twilight, come on! I’ve been pretty much living in your house, don’t go and tell me you’re not emotionally exhausted. I’m emotionally exhausting! And it was the same with Dash, she would have never left because she’s an idiot, she’s stupidly loyal, but she should have—!”

She didn’t finish the sentence. She just stood there, fist clenched, gritting her teeth, glaring at the blanket.

And then she relaxed. Her shoulders slouched, and she looked up at her friends. “I was like this all the time,” she said. “Every time we talked, Dash and I, every time we did anything as a couple, it ended with her cheering me up. Every single time. Everything had to be about me, about how I was hurt, about how I sucked. Whatever. It wasn’t a relationship, I just used her as a crutch.”

Regular Twilight wetted her lips before talking. “I thought you looked happy,” she said.

“I was. It made me happy, I loved it.” Sunset shook her head. “But it was at Dash’s expense, and that’s—that’s not fair to her. And I was self-aware, I knew I was doing it, but I wasn’t able to stop doing it.” She squinted. “The sweet spot of shame.”

The princess swallowed. “Yes. I’m… familiar with it.”

“So I just… that was it.” Sunset sighed. “I just thought about it, and I realized that what I was doing was wrong. That eventually Dash would get exhausted, and she would have to break up, and that I wouldn’t take it well. That I would be terrible about it, because I know myself. And I didn’t want that to happen.” She pushed a strand of hair away from her eye. “So I told Applejack so I wouldn't have second thoughts. And I broke the relationship so there would be nobody to blame but me. Only turns out, that’s what made the monsters appear. I did one good thing, one good thing, and I put you all in danger.”

She curled up, hugging her own legs, hiding her face.

“I hate myself.”

And for a very, very long time, she said nothing else.

The sound of birds singing is a subtle one—at first you don’t realize it’s there, but suddenly, just like that, it’s all you can hear. It peppers the background and breaks the quiet stillness of the night. You realize you don’t talk in whispers anymore. The world has woken up.

Dawn had come.

Regular Twilight was the one who spoke. She came closer to Sunset, and then hugged her over the shoulders. “Sunset,” she said. “You’re a good person.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” Twilight was gentle, but firm. She shook Sunset until she looked up, and then went on talking. “Listen. You saved me, okay? When I became a demon, you saved me. You’ll never impose yourself on me.”

“That sounds like tempting fate.”

“I’m not. You’re a good person. If you struggle to stay good, if you have to fight for it, that only makes you better.” Twilight smiled. “You just need a little help, is all. We can help you get it. There’s no shame in that.”

Sunset swallowed, and then looked down again. “I don’t know how—”

“Sunset Shimmer.” Princess Twilight spoke louder than Regular Twilight. She didn’t hug Sunset, but her voice was stronger. “Look at me.”

Sunset did.

“You realized you were doing something, and stopped yourself before it got worse.” She spoke plainly, but there was authority in her voice. “It hurts right now, and it’ll hurt more before it gets better. But with enough time, I promise you that you’ll look back at this moment, and you’ll be proud. Proud of yourself. You did the right thing.”

Sunset hid her face again. “How long am I going to be like this?” Her voice was weak. “Isn’t there any way to make it faster?”

Princess Twilight closed her eyes. “There isn’t,” she said. “I’m sorry. All we can do is wait for you to get better. There’s no way around that.”

Nobody said anything else. 

It took them a long time to get off the bed.

Wild Equestrian magic requires a source. Once you get rid of the source, then the magic dissipates, and stops causing trouble. 

The problem, then, was two-fold. First, the message Sunset had sent, the “We need to talk” with hidden meaning.

Second, the group chat.

“If you destroy the canvas, the monster disappears.” Princess Twilight was the one talking. She had a weave basket hanging from her arm, and she kept fiddling with it. “The graffiti worked like that too, right? It’s the same principle. Only now the canvas is—well, your group chat.”

Applejack frowned. “So?”

“So.” The princess looked at her. “That’s the thing. The good news is, we can deal with the monsters now! The day is saved.” Pause. “The bad news is…”

They were together, for the first time in days, but it felt so much longer. The place was the abandoned train station, because Rainbow Dash hadn’t been willing to meet up—so everybody had come to her instead. 

Everybody. Fluttershy, Pinkie, and Rarity had all arrived on time, excited to see the rest—but Sunset wasn’t looking at anybody, she kept hugging herself and leaning on Twilight, avoiding them all. Rainbow Dash wasn’t better. She hadn’t taken the surprise ambush well, and the only reason she hadn’t run away was because Applejack had convinced her to stay. So she just stood there, glaring at the ground, fists clenched, making sure to never look up.

So Pinkie had deflated, and Rarity and Fluttershy were busy trying to cheer her up. Three distinct groups, none of them talking to the others, all of them aching to leave.

And Princess Twilight in the middle of it, with her weave basket.

“The bad news is,” she said, steeling herself, “that I need to take your phones. All of them. We have to get rid of them.”

The reaction was immediate.

“What?” That was Rarity. “My phone? What do you mean, get rid of it? It’s brand-new!”

“Wait, all our phones?” And that was Regular Twilight, letting go of Sunset for a moment. “Even mine? Why?”

“Because,” the princess said, “the cursed message was sent through the group chat. Every single phone has been infected, that’s why the monsters attack you in particular. We have to—”

“But can’t we just delete the group chat then?” Applejack asked. “I don’t want to lose my phone! I’ve got a lot of stuff in there!”

“Delete the group chat?” Fluttershy covered her hand with a mouth. “But—but all the pictures we sent! And the messages!”

“It’s not just the group chat. Your phones store the magic, and it affects everything around you.” Princess Twilight took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t like this either, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Magic and technology don’t mix. The safest thing to do is to break every one of your phones and get rid of them.” She looked at Regular Twilight. “How does the chat work? Is it linked to the phone, or…?”

“It’s… It’s linked to the phone number.”

The princess nodded. “You should get a new number too, then, not just a new phone, It’s the safest way.”

“What!” Pinkie was the last one to scream, but she was by far the loudest. “But—! But—! We can just open another group chat! There’s no need to change our phone number!”

“Maybe not,” the princess said. “But do you want to risk it? The chat is linked to the phone number. Even if you delete it, there’s no way to know if the magic can infect your account, or if it can spread to another device, or…” She shook her head. “There’s just too many things that could go wrong, and we don’t know enough about magical phones. Better to play it safe.”

“She’s right, Pinkie.”  Regular Twilight rose her voice. Everybody looked at her. She was looking at her own phone. “Even if we delete the group chat before we break our phone, there are—the logs are stored in the cloud. We might download them one day by mistake, or fiddle with them. There’s no reason to take such a risk.”

“But it’s summer! We don’t have classes anymore!” Pinkie said, lip trembling. “If we all get new phone numbers, how are we going to hang out? How are we going to talk to each other?!”

“Maybe that’s for the best.” 

The one who spoke was Rainbow Dash, and what followed that statement was silence.

She noticed, and looked at them for the first time. “What?” she said, not looking at Fluttershy. “Maybe we could, I don’t know. Take a break from each other. Clear our heads, wait until everything gets less awkward. Then, when summer ends—”

Applejack put a hand on her shoulder. “Sugarcube.”

“I don’t want to be here anymore, Applejack. I want to be alone. Maybe that’s what we need.” Dash shook her head—and then stepped up to Princess Twilight, and put her phone on the basket. “Here,” she said “Let’s just get this over with.”

The complaints never ceased—but once the first step was taken, there was no stopping it. So one by one, all the girls took their phones and threw it in Twilight’s basket. Some took longer than others, but they all did.

Sunset was the last one. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Princess Twilight smiled at her. “It’s not your fault.”

And then they all stood there, watching, as the princess put the basket down. Sunset said nothing—but she listened. Peppering the background, all she could hear—

Her friends, talking.

“…It was brand new.”

“How are we going to hang out with each other? I want to talk to you girls!”

“Pinkie Pie, we can always—”

“All the pictures we had in there, are you sure I can’t just save them first, or…?”

“It’s too dangerous, sugarcube. Better to make sure there ain’t no magic left.”

“There were so many messages that we sent each other. There were years’ worth of backlog, and now we’re just going to lose it and—”

“I’ll miss the group chat.”

That last one had been Rainbow Dash.

Sunset Shimmer sprung up, her eyes sparkled. “Wait,” she said when she saw Twilight lift the rock and look at the basket. “Wait! Twilight!”

The princess looked around. “Wha—ARGH!”

And Sunset tackled her to the ground.

For a moment there was nothing in the world but pain and blurry edges. Sunset tackled down at the princess, but the princess had been kneeling—so they both hit the ground hard, and fast.

And then Sunset was on top of the princess, holding her wrist, stopping her form lifting the rock. “You can’t!” she said. “Princess, I’m so sorry, but you can’t do this! Please!”

The princess’ hair was ruffled. She was laying, head-up, and looking at Sunset with wide eyes. “What?”

“It’s not right!” Sunset stopped, caught her breath, and looked at Twilight dead in the eye. “I know it’s the safe thing to do, but it’s not right! I don’t want everybody to lose all these memories, I don’t want us not being able to hang out anymore, I don’t want to change everything forever!”

Princess Twilight frowned, but she didn’t try to get up. “Sunset,” she said. “I understand this is not pleasant, but it’s the only way to defeat the monsters. We need to break the phones, or—”

“No.”

There was a pause.

“What?”

“It’s not the only way.” Sunset was perfectly aware of her own situation. She realized she’d just tackled Princess Twilight, that she was laying on top of her, that everybody was staring. She wanted to die. She kept talking instead. “It’s the easy way out, but—you said that we have to destroy the canvas, the source.”

“Yes.”

“I can get over it.” Sunset swallowed. “It’s what you said, wasn’t it? I’ll look back on this one day, and I’ll feel proud about myself. I don’t want to delete the message, or to delete the chat, or to—” she looked around. Pinkie, Fluttershy, Applejack, they were all looking at her. 

Rainbow Dash, too.

“—to isolate ourselves from each other,” Sunset finished. “Just because I feel terrible now doesn’t mean I should hide, or run, or destroy the group. Because it’ll pass.” She closed her eyes. “It always passes, even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

“…If—” That was Regular Twilight speaking, and everybody—Sunset included—turned to face her. “If Sunset gets over it, if everybody gets over it,” she said, “the messages will lose their meaning. Without the emotion underneath, they’ll be just words. Wouldn’t that dissipate the magic?”

The princess bit her lip. “We can’t be sure.”

“But it may happen, right?”

“It’s… complicated. I suppose, technically, but there’s no way to tell for certain—”

“There’s no easy way out,” Sunset interrupted. She got up, away from the princess, and helped her up. “I don’t want to break the phones, Princess. I don’t like what it represents.”

The princess arched an eyebrow. “Safety?” 

“Cowardice!” Sunset shook her head. “Look, I know I’m…” She pressed a hand against her forehead. “I’m being selfish. This affects all of you girls—but I know I can do better. I feel like garbage, but I love all of you girls, I love you so much, and I can fix this. Everything can go back to how it was. We can get this over with.” She sighed. “I just need time. Please.”

She stood there, fists clenched, not quite daring to look up. Her lower lip was trembling. She felt like any moment now, she’d bend over, and throw up.

And then Pinkie tackled her to the floor with a hug.

“SUNSET SHIMMER!”

“Gagh.”

“OH MY GOSH I LOVE YOU TOO I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!” Pinkie was hanging from Sunset’s neck, rubbing their cheeks together. “I WANNA HANG OUT WITH YOU TOO!”

“And I definitely don’t mind the waiting, dear.” Rarity came to them, helped them out, and joined the hug. “Take all the time you need. We’ll be here for you.”

“Aw, shucks, what the heck.” Applejack joined them, too, laughing. “Anythin’ better than losin’ our phones. I missed the group chat anyway. Welcome back, Sunset. C’mere”

“WE’LL BE BEST FRIENDS FOREVEEEEEEEER.”

But not everybody raced to the huddle. Dash was still standing at a distance, taking slow steps backwards, away from Sunset and company, and then—

“Rainbow Dash?”

Fluttershy talked to her.

Dash cringed. She didn’t wince, she cringed with all her body, and then braved a look. “Shy?”

“You okay?” Fluttershy didn’t come too close, just enough so they could hear each other. “You, um. We haven’t talked in a while, and—”

“I’m okay! I’m okay.” Dash coughed, looked to the side. “Could be, uh. Better. I guess.”

“Good.” Fluttershy nodded. “I’ve missed talking to you. Do you… think you’ll get better?”

“I don’t know.”

“Right.”

Silence.

Dash sighed. It took all she had to do so. “But I—“ She turned around to look at Fluttershy, and to be honest, it stung. But it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. “I’ve missed talking to you too. I’m sorry, there’s just a lot of stuff I need to think about, and—”

“It’s okay,” Fluttershy said. “Take your time. I can wait as much as you want.” Then she inched a bit closer, and smiled with her eyes. “We should go hug Sunset Shimmer, too.”

“What. Really? Don’t you think that’ll be a little bit awkward?”

“It will. But we should anyway. That’s the whole point.”

And finally, in the distance, Regular Twilight approached Princess Twilight. “Are you okay?” she asked, reaching for her. “Did Sunset hurt you?”

“I’m tougher than I look.” The princess sighed, and dusted her skirt. “She could have just asked me to stop, though. No need to be so dramatic.”

“Well, don’t hold it against her. You know she’s had a bad week.” Regular Twilight bit her lip, and then closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you’re absolutely right, breaking the phones is the safest option, but I can’t help but—”

“Don’t worry.” The princess was quick to reply, and when Twilight looked at her, alarmed, she smiled. “I mean it. I’ve been friends with my Rainbow Dash for years, Twilight. Sometimes you need to go for the unsafe option; that’s a lesson I had to learn long ago.”

“Of course.” Twilight rubbed the back of her back. “It’s not really about the phones either.”

“It’s not. It’s more complicated than that.” Princess Twilight picked up the basket of phones, and hung it from her arm again. “If the monsters keep attacking, and they will, you’re better off staying together at all times. It might get worse before it gets better.”

Twilight smiled. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I told you, didn’t I? The magic of friendship is the best way to deal with these things.” The princess looked at her hand. She was still holding the rock. “Certainly better than this. You’ll be fine.”

“We are pretty good at fighting.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I mean, obviously that’s the case too, but I meant that…” She looked at the huddle, and smiled. Fluttershy and Dash had joined the hug, awkwardness and all. “You’ll be fine.”

Twilight nodded, and eyed the huddle too. “It’ll take a while.”

“Good things always do. Now, here.” The princess gave Twilight the basket. “Your phones. Go return them, and give Sunset a good hug on my part. You’re going to have a weird summer, but it’ll be worth it.”

Regular Twilight beamed. “I know it will. Thanks for the help, Princess Twilight.”

And then she picked up the basket, and raced towards Sunset to hug her, and Pinkie Pie yelled with delight at the group being finally reunited.

Princess Twilight chuckled, and turned around. 

In front of her there was a lion. It was big, and white, and made out of paint. It was drooling, and growling, and eyeing the girls hugging each other in the distance.

Princess Twilight blinked, looked back at the girls, and then again at the lion. “I have to say,” she said. “This is some really terrible timing.”

The lion glared at the princess. The growling got louder.

The princess sighed. “Oh, well,” she said, rolling up her sleeves. “I guess I can let them have this moment, at least.”

And then the lion tackled her.

And Princess Twilight gripped the rock, and tackled back.