//------------------------------// // A buck to the gut // Story: There's Magic in the Air // by Clopficsinthecomments //------------------------------// Trixie Day - 3 Trixie heard the shout from behind her door. She was pressing her back against the wooden entrance, having sat down against it as soon as she entered. An ecstatic smile was bubbling on her face, threatening to boil over into laughter, or a scream of joy. She tried and failed to suppress the urge, breaking out into a giggle as she laid her head back against the door and let out a silent prayer of thanks to Celestia. She’d used the booze as an excuse to herself to proposition Jot. The last five minutes of the walk home had been a constant mantra to herself, psyching herself up to ask the stallion inside. She’d failed so many times in similar situations that she’d given up hope. It helped to adopt her showmare persona — it came so quickly to her, like a security blanket, protecting her ego… she couldn’t be turned down if she was the best… it was something wrong with them not her. But this stallion was different. He was so — understanding, so patient. If he turned her down… it must mean something was wrong with her. And when she’d asked him to join her inside, her whole body had been shaking with fear. A fear that became a dark, bleak hole the longer he went without answering her. At that moment she’d known. Beyond a reasonable doubt. That she had embarrassed herself, that she wasn’t irresistible and gorgeous and talented and powerful and great. The security blanket would not work this time, not when she’d put herself out there so courageously. But she had to try. She used her usual line, about inviting for tea and not being a mare who did anything on the first date… Hah! As if mares these days would ever choose to not take a stallion in! Getting a date in the first place was rare enough! Still, it would usually allow her to turn her nose up when the stallion would inevitably turn down her offer of a refreshment, reassuring herself that the great and powerful Trixie needn’t concern herself with stallions only looking for a quick roll in the hay. Even if that tired reasoning wouldn’t work with the genteel Jot, it was like muscle memory to her. But then he’d sagged. Hurt by her words. He would have come in! If only she hadn’t opened her big, dumb yap! And then, trying to make it better, she’d really put her hoof in it! But she couldn’t stand the thought that she’d somehow managed to break Jot’s heart, because she was worried that he was about to break hers. She groaned aloud to herself, the flush coming back to her cheeks as she replayed the scene in her head. It was so embarrassing; she had tried to leave, but then… then he’d hugged her. Trixie wrapped her forelegs around herself in her empty wagon, a far cry from the embrace she’d just had, but still enough to elicit happy memories of the moment. She’d thought he was taking pity on her… just being the nice pony he was. But oh, how wrong she’d been! When he said that he liked her… her! And he knew about her… Trixie Lulamoon, not the great and powerful showmare, but the pony who’d failed Ponyville… and he still liked her! She giggled to herself as she twisted back and forth in her self-embrace. Gods she’d wanted to smooch him harder than any pony had ever been smooched. And more. But he was a gentlepony and remembered what she’d just said, so he’d pulled back. Trixie groaned to herself, throwing her head back with a thump against the door. If only she hadn’t opened her big, dumb mouth! Even right now, they could be... Trixie blushed harder, swallowing deeply as her imagination raced. After a moment of indulgence, she shook her head clear. No, no… that hug was even better. It was fine! He was a shy pony. She grinned to herself. She’d just have to take charge tomorrow. Tomorrow! She squee’d aloud, giggling. It would just make it all so much sweeter for having waited. She couldn’t wait! She jumped into her hammock, smile plastered across her muzzle, unsure how she would be able to get to sleep… until the combined drowsiness of a long day and a decent amount of booze overcame her. Her sleep was fantastic. Her forelegs stretched gloriously, and she let an almost triumphal yawn, rubbing the sleep from her tired eyes she slipped out of her hammock quickly. She couldn’t seem to shake the goofy grin that had made its way onto her face, that she hadn’t been able to dispel since her little solo-squeeing session the night before. Rubbing her cheeks with glee as she replayed some of the different dreams she’d had the previous evening — various iterations of spending time with her new friend, and unusual ways of spending time with that friend… it was far too much fun. A twittering bluebird outside her wagon window brought her back to reality. Usually, she’d shout at the annoying thing to bugger off — the creature had been a rather irritating neighbor for the past week since she’d parked her wagon here — but today she leaned out the wagon window and chirped “Good morning Mr. Bluebird!” back at the little thing. She felt like she was acting like one of those insufferable princess protagonists in those foal’s fairy-tales… but she couldn’t help herself! “Well then, time to get Trixie some coffee!” She smiled to herself, walking out her wagon door as she cast the familiar spell that twisted and sussed her hair back into order, taming the strange muss of mane that always accompanied her after awaking. She trotted out into the musty Manehattan morning, the sound of magic-powered lawnmowers explaining the smell of freshly-cut park grass lingering amidst the humidity of the air, as the night dew began to steam off in the light of the early sun. She trotted toward the food-stand that she’d been frequenting nearby while in residence at the park — a simple place with simple fare… and awful coffee. She smiled at the stall owner as she trotted up, already snagging the bits from her saddle-bag to pay for her usual — a cream-cheese bagel and a paper-cup of the stall’s foul brew. “Good morni—" Trixie began happily, the words dying in her throat as two of the customers who had just finished getting their order turned and gave her a dirty look. She frowned. It would be one thing if the look she’d gotten was just the usual Manehattan scowl, the defacto grimace that all busy urbanites adopted as they tried to make their way through life surrounded by far too many ponies… but these two had been smiling happily until they’d seen her. Once their eyes had seen her, their bright faces had twisted into that bitter derision that betrayed the hate they felt underneath. She swallowed and sighed. It wasn’t the first time she’d run into somepony who recognized her and despised her, and it wouldn’t be the last… probably not even the last-time today. And she wasn’t going to let something like this get her down, not today. Not when she was going to see Jot later. She cleared her throat and began again. “Good m—" “It is her. So she really is in Manehattan.” A pegasus stallion whispered far too loudly to her left. Trixie twisted her head to look at him, but he quickly buried his head back into his newspaper, shuffling it slightly. Frowning, she strode up to the stall. She hated that her good mood had been stolen from her so quickly — it wasn’t fair that fate could snatch away her happiness so immediately. But, all she had to do was get her coffee and bagel and retreat to her wagon; planning out her evening with Jot would more than make up for the intrusion of these annoying ponies. Then she saw it. The advertisement on the paper was in big, bold letters on the front page. It wasn’t the headline, of course, but it may as well have been — the red and black font standing out more than the paper’s cover story ever could… THIS UPCOMING SUNDAY EDITION: TRIXIE EXPOSED — A VILLAIN VISITS OUR CITY… DON’T MISS IT! Suddenly she wasn’t so hungry. “Th-this can’t… this can’t be… r-right…” The words slipped out of her mouth — she couldn’t control them. The bits that she had intended for her food clattered onto the counter, used for the newspaper instead. She walked back toward her wagon, all the sensations she had been enjoying just moments before lost in a swirl of adrenaline and shock. She held the paper in front of her with her magic, as if it were a bomb or hazardous waste… but still, the red and black words throbbed out at her, burning into her mind. As she walked, mouth hanging slightly open in shock, she could feel the eyes of every pony around her, each landscaper, each park-jogger. All she wanted to do was escape, to shut herself out and away from the attention, to re-read the paper. Some little hope within her hoped that it might somehow read differently, if she could just get some time to sit down and study it. The door couldn’t come fast enough for Trixie, even as she passed through it, she could already feel her breathing getting faster and shallower — not quite a panic, but she was getting there. The nearest cabinet provided the only foundation she’d felt since taking the paper, and she slumped against it to take the weight off of her shaking muscles. She poured over the advertisement, though she’d already read it several times on the way — it hadn’t changed of course, despite her hope: THIS UPCOMING SUNDAY EDITION: TRIXIE EXPOSED — A VILLAIN VISITS OUR CITY… DON’T MISS IT!- Full cover story by Bawdy Jot “W-why!?” The word died on Trixie’s lips. She wouldn’t be sad. Not this time. She’d shed too many tears over betrayals and disappointments in the past; she’d hardened her heart against anything so foalish as crying over a newspaper article… Then why did it feel so bad? ‘Because you let him in… you thought you’d made a friend. You thought, foolishly, that there was something there.’ Trixie’s inner monologue was always a bit too smug for her liking, especially at times like this. ‘But of course, that wasn’t the case… he was just using you — making you look like a complete idiot.’ Trixie threw the paper away from herself, the gray leaves of paper scattering in a noisy, flapping mess. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t. She wanted to be angry instead, furious. She wanted to spit in that stupid, evil pegasus's face. Fury felt so much more empowering than despair. It was more welcome. Then why couldn’t she get mad? Why were her eyes misting up? Tears began to stream down her cheeks, and the first, choking sob escaped her. She knew that more would follow. She hung her head into her lap, tears flowing freely now. She wanted to go home.