I sat in the ruins of my library, taking long, mournful swigs of a large brown bottle. It was getting to be mid-afternoon, and I had yet to gather the energy to do something productive. I dunno, man, seeing your home wrecked like that was an ordeal. All I could do was think.
The front door opened to a girlish yelp of horror. Hello Rarity, welcome to my crib.
"Darling, whatever happened to your house? It's a disaster!"
I groaned and slid a little in my chair. "The guards couldn't take a joke."
That jab didn't help as much as I thought it would, as Rarity only asked her questions louder. "What kind of joke is worth all this?"
"Just a simple knock-knock joke. Totally harmless."
"I doubt it was as innocent as you claim." She accused with a narrow glare.
"Hey, they're the ones who reacted by breaking my stuff. Hold them accountable for being sensitive bitches!"
Rarity scoffed in offense. "Why must it always come down to foul language with you?"
"Well I'm not a very good pony, what do you expect?"
She groaned, clearly unwilling to continue that argument. "So what will you do now?"
"First things first." I raised my bottle. "I'm gonna finish this." Bottoms went up.
"Right, then what?"
I set my bottle down on my leg with an audible smack. "I'm gonna stab the tax pony."
"Please don't. I don't want one of my friends in jail."
I groaned. "Not even fire-bombing his office?"
"I do believe that would be worse."
I sighed, dejected at the loss of the more therapeutic methods of revenge. "Then I guess I'd better get my camera to get some evidence. And find a real shark of lawyer."
Rarity smiled, patting me on the shoulder like I'm a well-behaved child. "There we go. That would be an appropriate response."
I glared lightly. "Your patronizing is really hurting my feelings, you know."
"Don't take it too hard, darling." She smiled proudly. "I'm only trying to reinforce positive behavior."
"You make me sound like a dog in training."
"Or an overgrown child." She countered glibly.
All I could do at that was grumble. Stupid unicorns and their words.
It didn't take much longer for Spike to come home and see the library, too. He leveled a flat glare at me, certain of one thing. "What did you do?"
"Man, why is always supposedly my fault when something happens?" I argued defensively.
"Because it is?" He shot back.
I gnashed my teeth. "I'd resent that if it weren't true."
"Did you pull another Philomena Incident?"
I sighed, defeated. "Yes."
"Oh, come on!" He shouted in outrage.
"They shouldn't make such easy targets!"
"And you shouldn't antagonize the ponies watching you!"
"That's..." I pressed my lips together and thought that over. "... a very good point."
"So you're gonna stop going after the guards like this?"
"Hell no, this is war."
A fourth voice entered the fray from right beside me. "I knew it!" A cloth blending in to the wall fell, revealing the accusing glare of Sweetie Drops. Evidently, she snuck in with the guards, or I would have sensed her coming it. "I knew you were planning an invasion! Tell me what you know, or I'll-"
With my magic, I scruffed up the back of her neck like she was an unruly kitten, and dragged her to the window. Without pausing to open it, I smashed her bodily through the whole thing. "Fuck off!"
She stuck her head back in through the broken glass, cuts on her face dipping slightly. "This isn't over!" And she stomped off.
"Did Bon Bon have a reason to be here?" Rarity asked.
"Yes."
And that was that. Moving on, Rarity suggested something as generous as her Element demands. "Well, I would hate for my friends to live in this disaster. If you would like, you could spent the night at my house."
Spike gasped. "S-stay? In your house?" Color spread on his face.
I side-eyed my dragon brother with good humor. "That sounds wonderful."
And that was the plan. We left the library shortly after and slept in Rarity's guest room. Spike and I had our work cut out for us the next day.
It was time for us to play "crime scene investigator". With a camera we bought from the market, we methodically catalogued everything that was damaged and thrown around. Books were stacked on one end for sorting, destroyed cushions and rubble from my beautiful statue were piled in the corner, and overturned furniture was replaced. A camera flash preceded every action we took in restoring our home.
"And here's a volume of Daring Do." I narrated. Holding it out in my magic, Spike snapped a photo of the bent cover. We were at that for a few hours. Most of the main floor was looking fine, so that left us with the kitchen and the bedroom.
"Want to take a break?" Spike asked. "We've got one room done, and we'll need another roll of film, anyways."
"Sure, let's take a breather."
It was mid-day, so we decided to get some lunch. I took a quick trip to this restaurant run by a guy named Stromboli. Weird dude, but makes killer calzones. Setting up our meal in the main room, we had our meal(s) before us.
"So what's the plan after this?" Spike waved his claw around the room.
"I found an ad for some attorney named Dog Bite. He lives a few roads down, so I'll give him a shout tomorrow."
Spike huffed into his blackened calzone. "Weird name."
"Yeah, not everypony is blessed enough to have names befitting their profession." I agreed, chewing some apart some of that glorious cheese pouring out of its shell.
The front door slammed open, shocking me into throwing my food into the air. I swung around with my hooves up for a fight, before my horn speared my falling calzone. Face then covered in oozing cheese, I pulled it aside to see our new guests.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders slammed the door shut behind them, letting out a collective breath of frustration. Apple Bloom spoke up to coincidentally explain why they barged into my house without knocking. "I'm so sick and tired of Diamond Tiara!"
"Ugh, she's so annoying!" Scootaloo added.
"Why does she have to be so mean all the time?" Sweetie Belle asked tearfully.
I settled back into my chair, prying my food off my horn and taking a small bite. "Rough morning, girls?"
Attention now grabbed, Sweetie Belle noticed the mess on my face. "You have white stuff on your face."
I snorted at the implication. "Ricotta cheese, don't worry about it."
The girls only then looked around the library, noticing the half-empty shelves and stacks of disorderly books. "What happened here?"
"A problem similar to yours, I'd imagine." I replied leadingly.
At this, the girls sighed and sat in adjacent chairs. Spike and I continued eating our food while they began their tale of great woe: a story of schoolyard bullying. The girls were driving around, raising hell when they stopped for something. Too bad Diamond Tiara and her bitch friend were nearby. They strolled on over to throw around some insults. I wasn't so sure why "blank-flank" was a big insult, but I also wasn't a pony, so I didn't ask about it. The point is that their entire morning was ruined by a few snobs. They essentially popped into my house for a breather.
"I'm so sick of this!" Apple Bloom huffed. "We didn't do nuthin' to her. Why's she always bothering us?"
It took me a minute to realize that they wanted an actual answer. "Uh, are you sure you should be asking me? I don't think your sisters would appreciate me giving you advice." Largely because they know my advice is 'punch her in the face'. "Why not ask them?"
"We have asked them. They just keep saying that they like us and are too insecure to say it." Sweetie pouted.
That was total bullshit, of course. Bullying was a way for weak people to feel strong against passive targets. The only way to correct their behavior was to teach them the hard way that further harassment meant a bloody face.
Not that I could say all that to kids whose families knew me personally. The last thing I wanted was for Rarity to kick my ass while Applejack holds me down. Still, these fillies needed advice, and their misguided siblings kept filling their minds with worthless garbage. I shot Spike a look, and he just shrugged. He apparently had no ideas, either.
So that left me and my diabolical mind. I had plenty of experience in fighting bullies, and some experience in outsmarting them.
"Hmm, the only reason they pick on you is because they get something they want out of it."
"Like what, candy?" Scootaloo asked.
Yeah, they had no idea. "It's your reactions. You react with hurt and anger, which is exactly what they want."
"But how are we supposed to act? They keep saying mean things, so of course we get hurt!" Sweetie Belle argued.
"Well, you give them a reaction they don't expect. So I say next time they tease you, you take a deep breath and give 'em a big ol' hug."
Scootaloo instantly lashed out at the idea. "But we hate her! Why would we do that?"
I chuckled evilly. "Because it would frustrate them to no end. They live off the accumulated misery of their peers, so give them some love, and it's like salt to a slug. They'll burn and shout and scream at how much they hate you. It only works once, but it'll keep Dumb and Dumber out of your manes for a while."
The girls wordlessly conversed on the idea. They must have thought it had merit, because Apple Bloom spoke up with hesitant approval. "Well, I guess we can give it a try. If it'll get Diamond Tiara off our backs, then it's worth it."
I smiled, content with my good deed for the day. That, and I doubt the RariJack tag team would find much reason to smash me to pieces with this advice. "Happy to help!"
The girls eventually left, buzzing away on that deathtrap of theirs. I turned back to the table of food, stuffing my face once more with the greatest food in the world.
Spike slurped from his cup in contemplation, thankfully not judging me for shitty advice. "Are you sure that'll work? I don't think bullies are that easy to get rid of."
"They're not." I agreed. "Violence is the only permanent solution to that problem. I just said something that wouldn't get Applejack over here to show me what real southern hospitality looks like."
"Is that a human thing?"
"Yes."
He nodded, figuring I knew what I was doing. I did, naturally. I'm sure the Crusaders would put it into practice and get a funny story out of it.
As it turns out, they did.
Sometimes I wish I wore a hat, that way I could hang it on a hook by the door when I arrive in the house. There's something final about disrobing in your home after a trip outside. Alas, the only articles of clothing I owned were a set of underwear and some tights that I don't wear anymore.
Well, that and the armor I had downstairs. I was sure that would be useful for something down the line.
In any case, the library looked perfectly fine after the previous day's clean up. Some books were missing, sure, and the kick-ass statue I made was shattered, and the furniture was cracked and...
Shit, I was getting angry again.
I shook my head to rattle the thoughts back into their cage and popped into the kitchen for a drink. Spike was sitting there with a magic book. A brief flare of pride shot through my mind when I grabbed a bottle from the fridge.
"He take the case?" He asked, glancing away from his book.
"Yeah, he is." My magic popped the cap into the trash and the delicious bottled drink went straight to my mouth. "Seems a little sleazy, but that just means he'll pull any dirty trick for a victory."
"Sounds shady."
"Sounds perfect." I corrected. If Equestria had a mafia, I'd hire one of their lawyers if it meant giving the government an embarrassing defeat.
Spike rolled his eyes and bookmarked his progress. "I'm starting to think you're legitimately evil."
"I am, I'm just obfuscating kindness."
Spike rolled his eyes again, following me into the library's main room. "Not very well."
I shrugged it off. "It's a work in progress." We settled into some chairs, ready to continue our conversation. "How about you? You get very far in your magic studies?"
Spike nodded happily. "Yeah, I'm a couple of chapters into the beginner's book. There's a lot information to sort through, you know?"
I did understand. All those glyphs and stuff make your head hurt when you're just getting started. "You'll get a hang of them. It took me a couple of months to get where I am."
"It's hard to think you've only known magic when you first got here. You're really powerful."
"Eh, it's all a matter of studying. I got the hang of it."
"Twilight was studying for years, and she didn't get as powerful as you."
That gave me pause, because there was no way Twilight was weaker than me. "Didn't she also focus on theory? Because I've been focused on practical application."
"Yeah, I guess." Spike's thoughts rumbled for a bit. "She's always been a magical prodigy, maybe she would be just as strong."
"Stronger." I corrected quickly. "She's been at this magic game her whole life, while I'm just a newcomer."
Spike looked conflicted about that, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why. It wasn't that much of a leap, right? Twilight would naturally be my superior in these things when she came back.
And as much as I would love to continue that conversation, the library door slammed open again, and shut just as quickly and forcefully. It was Apple Bloom again, and she propped against the door like there would be a monster bashing it open. "Twilight, you gotta help me!"
"What is it?" I stood up with my horn alight, ready to summon a weapon at a moment's notice.
"You remember that advice you gave us yesterday?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, I tried it, and it worked."
I killed the power in my horn, figuring there was no danger. "Okay..."
"But it worked too well." She looked especially panicked, then. "Now she wants to go shopping with me!"
Either through exasperation or disbelief, my eyes narrowed. "That doesn't sound right. Bullies don't just flip like that."
"Diamond did!" She exclaimed. "She teased us like usual, and then I hugged her, and then she got starry-eyed."
In Equestria, "starry-eyed" is typically used literally. Something about magic ponies and emotional resonance make their eyes more expressive, so I had no doubt she meant Diamond showed a clear positive response to physical affection.
This was unusual, of course. Diamond would only react like that if she was a love-starved child desperate for attention. But then why would she be such a bitch if that's what she wanted? What sense does it make to seek love through altercation?
"So what do I do?" She asked, growing frenzied.
Shit, that was a good question. I didn't have the experience for this. My usual methods of conflict resolution are inadequate here. Moreover, it didn't sound like a conflict. This was a... friendship problem?
Dazedly, I attempted an answer. "I think you should continue being nice. If she's extending an olive branch, then I'd say you should explore the possibility that she's being genuine."
"But it's Diamond Tiara! I don't like her!"
"That could change faster than you think." I supplied. "A mere hug opened the door to reconciliation, so perhaps a continuous stream of friendly gestures could help her be an unexpected friend?"
Apple Bloom wasn't so sure. "Well, I guess I could try. I mean, it would be nice if she weren't so mean all the time."
I nodded. "Yeah, maybe she just needs to see that not everypony is an enemy. Try being a friend, and seek help if something goes wrong."
"Thanks Twilight, I will." She left shortly after.
What the hell was that? I looked out the window, watching her walk down the street like she would be leading to my answer. She turned around a corner before then, however. That left me with my confusion, which wasn't abating without serious thought.
To continue my earlier sentiment, this was unusual because people don't stop being assholes unless you give them a physical (and painful) reason to stop. Pain is an efficient teacher like that. But Diamond Tiara looks like an exception to that. If anything, this whole deal with her reminds me of something.
This school year was the same as all the others.
The boys in class were cruel to me. No surprise, since being the only boy who likes "girly" things makes you a target. Naturally, I found refuge with the girls. Girls have always been on the hunt for a gay boy to trot around like a fashionable accessory, but if it meant a break from the constant ridicule from my male peers, then I'd play along. Boring conversations where the girls endlessly fantasized about weddings and mansions were tedious, but I bore it all without complaint.
There was one girl who changed that routine, though. A blonde bimbo named Cindy, who was very popular among the others. She was the poster child for youthful beauty, and she had the personality to stay on top of whatever hierarchy she chose to conquer. Naturally, this fifth grade classroom was like molding clay to an artist like her. After a while, I even came to like her. She was among the first to stand in my defense, graciously allowing me into her circle.
For about a month, anyway.
Shockingly enough, she got tired of having a boy in her group of friends. It started with little sniping comments about my habits, then escalating into my appearance. She got tired of acting like I was somebody, and she openly attacked my supposed sexuality in short order. Turns out girls hate the gays, too.
Then her bitch friends noticed my social vulnerability, and took the opportunity to snap and tear into me like the bottom-feeding filth they were. A mere three months into the school year, and I was completely isolated. It never even occurred to me to ask why she would turn so suddenly. As far as I figured, she was a faking bitch just like everyone else.
But I was never one to let things slide. As much as I hated the others for their part in hurting me, I could never forgive the girl who I once thought was better. She betrayed me, and I wanted revenge.
I couldn't do what I'd usually do. Boys hitting girls was never okay, because girls are implicitly weaker than boys, and need protection from consequences. I'd need to be creative.
So I watched her for weeks. She laughed with her friends and joined the mocking laughter when it was time for my routine humiliation. She was oddly reserved in her laughter, but I figured it was because she was truly an emotionless cow.
I discovered a weakness one day, a critical habit of hers that made her vulnerable. Every time the bell rang for recess, she would dash for the door without heed for her surroundings. All I needed was an opportunity.
Then came the day where everyone was particularly unobservant. With my classmates shoving their heads in the clouds, I sunk to the floor and crawled under her desk. With great care, I untied her shoes and knotted the laces together. Left shoe connected to the right, I retreated back to my seat and hunched my shoulders like a passive little victim. No one suspected a thing.
I watched and waited with glee as the clock ticked by.
The bell rang, and Cindy rocketed out of her seat like she always did. Only this time, her feet didn't cooperate. As soon as she got up, she toppled over like a tree. She fell to her right, face colliding with the neighboring desk. The bang that sounded stopped the usual hubbub of excited children. All was silent for one tense minute.
And then the crying started. Cindy held her face in her hands and wailed like never before. The other students backed away as if to claim innocence through distance, and the teacher ran over to see what happened. When she removed her hands for a brief moment, I saw the blood pouring out of her nose. Her face was twisted in pain and panic. She was a complete mess.
I couldn't take it. I held by breath, hands over my nose and mouth. The rest of the class saw me run outside, seeing the sensitive little boy running from the sight of blood. They said I was a scaredy-cat. They could think that about me all they wanted. As I ran, I knew I had to leave before it came out.
I couldn't let anyone see me laughing.
"Dusk?"
Spike's question shook me out of my thoughts. "Yeah?"
"You were staring out there for a while. Are you okay?"
I nodded, because of course I was okay. The memory that came back to me was a happy one, though now it seemed a little sour. Why was that? Was I supposed to feel guilty for giving some bully what she deserved? Well screw her, she was just lucky I didn't put her in the hospital.
Longer than a week, anyway.
But as I thought on my actions that day (the continuation of which reduced the bullying in class by the way), I wondered how they might connect to what happened with Diamond Tiara.
I didn't like the implications. If my conclusion was true, then I wasn't as good a person as I thought (and I didn't think highly of myself in the first place). Every choice I've made since arriving here was suspect. Was I right to challenge Gilda? Was I justified in attacking that dragon on the mountain?
My approach to conflict needed to change, and time would tell if I was good enough to try.