//------------------------------// // The Reactions // Story: Family Tree // by miss-cyan //------------------------------// I woke up feeling physically and emotionally exhausted, more so than usual. Last night had been extra tiring, but in the end, it’d been a nice night out with a friend. If I ignored all the emotional turmoil I’d put myself through with all that “dating” stuff, I’d had a pretty fun time. “Nothing to get all worked up about.” I stretched out, forcing myself to wake up fully. As usual I was starving. Breakfast was in full swing when I went downstairs, and the Apple family greeted me like they always did. Only Applejack seemed hesitant, but I reassured her as I did last night with a warm smile. My mind was made up. “What’s on the griddle, AJ?” I couldn’t help but smile at the delicious smell in the air. “I thought I’d whip up somethin’ special, just because.” She smiled, flipping something in the pan. “Everypony loves the Apple Family fritter recipe, and if there’s one thing I do better than makin’ them, it’s eatin’ them!” And true to both claims, the only thing that stopped our feast of fritters was Apple Bloom going off to school. Though everyone had room for more, the day had to get started eventually. The whole day, I’d remembered something that was only a few days away. Pinkie would be crushed if I went back on her pony-Halloween plans for us, and I doubt there would be a premade costume for my particular body type anywhere in Ponyville. The last thing I wanted to do right now was let her down. Sewing my own wasn’t out of the question, it would be easy enough with the materials. But the thought creeping into my mind now was how to sew something without it accidentally coming to life. Would a costume follow the same rules as a stuffed animal? Were there even any rules? Twilight was the obvious person to ask about getting my magic to do what I wanted, but there was one other pony who seemed to have a handle on this sort of thing. Someone much closer at the moment too. As I worked at my chore list for the day, I thought how to put together my costume, and how to approach the pony who I’d need help from. I could only hope she would help. Something she had said recently had stuck with me. I was still pretty (but understandably) hesitant about using my magic, but when she’d mentioned how her own was similar, I couldn’t help but be curious. After a long day of thinking about the days coming up, doing my chores and decompressing from last night’s events, I’d had a while to think about what to say to the family’s matriarch. We sat together in front of the small fire they had going in the living room. Applejack seemed to be going over some kind of ledger, Big Mac was helping his youngest sister with her homework, and Granny Smith was knitting in her rocking chair. It was still pretty mesmerizing, watching how hooves could do such intricate work. I still didn’t completely understand how ponies could have that kind of grip and control, even after having hooves myself. I sat on a stool close to Granny Smith, knowing it would help with her hearing. I cleared my throat to get her attention, and it finally took on the second try. “What’s on your mind, youngin’?” she asked, her hooves not slowing a bit. “I was wondering…” It still sounded funny to me, but I wanted to go for it. “Tomorrow, would you be willing to show me a little…earth pony magic?” They all gave me the same look, of amused bewilderment. “Well sure thing, Miss Blue.” She replied finally, still looking a little thrown off. “What sort of thing didya have in mind?” “Now, make sure yur mixin’ in warm water, Lottie.” She pointed out from her spot next to me in the Apple family’s kitchen. It was something to see, a magic lesson that revolved baking. I hoped that Twilight wouldn’t be too sore about missing it. “It’s been a while since I baked anything from scratch.” I told her, getting a workout mixing everything by hand. “Mrs. Russo would kill me if she knew how often I go store-bought.” “Izzat yur grandmare’s name over where you’re from?” she tapped her chin thoughtfully when I nodded, turning to fetch something from the pantry. “I used to bake with her, ya know.” It was still a trip to think of her as a pony, not to mention right where I was standing. I believed it, how couldn’t I by now? But the thought was still a bit too much sometimes. But as long as I’d known her, it’d always been as a kid relating to an adult. I didn’t know much about her as a person, let alone as my grandparent. “What was she like back then?” I asked, and I was afraid my voice was too quiet, but she seemed to hear me okay. “That little filly, after she got her cutie mark, she was quite the little baker.” She smiled fondly, plopping a small jar of a powder on the counter. “There wasn’t a market back then, so ponies came here for their apple orders. She would come up for a bushel or two and stay to watch my Ma and I in the kitchen. She learned more of our family recipes than some of my cousins ever did! Sometimes she brought us some loaves of her specialty bread as a thank you for lettin’ her stick around as often as she did. Pa thought it was too sweet, but it was always a treat that Ma and I looked forward to.” “Oh yeah…” I remembered that bread now, she used to make it all the time when she couldn’t decide what to bring over. After I told her that her banana bread was my favorite, I remembered eating it less and less. “I loved that bread. I wonder if it’d be better here than in my world?” “That’s what we’re gonna find out, missy!” she laughed, plopping a few more ingredients on the counter. “That’s what we’re making?” “Darn tootin’!” she whooped, her tail whipping about in her excitement. “I remember the recipe well enough, and if I got the right idea about all this, yur gonna work yur magic on it.” This was definitely the strangest (and only) magic lesson I’d ever had. “Now, when I’m bakin’, I like to chat up the ingredients a little. Sometimes it’s a little sweet talkin’, sometimes it’s a little ditty I sing to them. But mostly, I like to think about the ponies I’m bakin’ for.” Granny Smith told me from the kitchen table where she was resting her hooves. “I tell it how good it’s gonna be, and how happy it’ll make the ponies I’m makin’ it for.” “Sounds familiar…” I gave a weary smile, recalling how I’d talk to the toys I made. Was it really that simple? I figured trying this out would be a good way to try and get a handle on my magic without accidentally bringing anything to life. Plus, I was sure Twilight had something more complicated in mind to help me, and I didn’t want to keep interrupting her research. The less I did that, the sooner I could get home. Hopefully. “Well? Give it whirl, young filly!” she shouted, joking but stern. I took a deep breath, suddenly hyper-aware of my body. “Okay…” I added the next ingredient that she’d told me to, folding it into the dough. “Sugar Maple’s Special Bread, you’re gonna be so delicious. I used to have you all the time when I was little.” I tried to relax my tense shoulders, pushing out my all-too-loud thoughts. Every breath I took didn’t feel like I was getting quite enough air, but I did my best to shake it off. “Whenever the lady who made you came over to visit, she always brought some of you with her.” I told the dough, setting it aside for a moment to flour the space where I’d be kneading. “Little kids are easy to please, but you were a special treat. You made her visits all the more fun for me.” I kneaded and kneaded, flipping it over every now and then, flattening it out before squishing it back together. “Don’t be afraid to whoop it now, missy!” Granny Smith laughed, laughing it up when my fist came down into the squishy dough. “You’re good at bringing people together. People and ponies, and any mix between the two.” I laughed, hoping the bread wasn’t taking the beatdown personally. “I know you’re gonna come out great! And you’re gonna be just as good at making people happy.” Something felt a little different, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe…the hair on the back of my neck was standing up? The air I breathed in felt just a little…off. Not hotter or colder, maybe just a tiny bit…electric? It wasn’t the right word, but it was an entirely new experience when I was trying to pay attention to it. Did it feel this way last time? Or the time before that? I couldn’t remember. More kneading and when everything felt the right consistency, I worked it into the pans. “You’ll make ponies feel better.” I smiled to myself, remembering my days with Mrs. Russo as a little kid. “Whether it’s a tough day at school, or a long, tiring day, you’re gonna make them forget their troubles.” “Good food will do that.” Granny Smith smiled, passing me a soft-looking brush. I grabbed a little jar and remembering the final part of the recipe she’d relayed to me. “I believe in you, special bread.” I glazed the loaf lightly with the mixture, to be recoated when the loaf was done baking. Another breath and I could feel something new, but somehow familiar. It felt like something was slipping away, but I felt nothing but calm. Like everything was right with the world. “Do your best.” I told it, slipping the pan into the oven. The energy I’d felt running over my skin and in my words was dull now, but still there, a soft, soothing hum. Like hearing your own heartbeat, but…not quite the same. “I…think it happened.” I wish I could be more sure, but there was no alicorn princess monitoring my invisible output this time. “We’ll find out for sure, not too long now.” She nodded sagely. “In my experience, this is where a song helps the most. Helps pass the time and puts the baking in a good mood!” As much as I didn’t want to sing in front of other people, it’s not like Granny Smith was going to judge me, and the bread certainly wasn’t going to complain. I figured I might as well have fun with it. Lucky for me, Mom was a fan of a certain singer I was sure the Apples would like the sound of, and I’d heard her songs over and over on many a long car trip. Applejack walked up the path to the side kitchen door, wondering how quickly she could whip up a pitcher of lemonade for her and Big Mac to help cool off. She was close when she could hear the unfamiliar sound of somepony singing that she’d never heard before. It wasn’t hard to figure out who it was. Though she’d never heard it before and while the singing wasn’t quite right, her friend’s voice going scratchy on the higher notes and stumbling over her words when she broke down into laughter, it was undoubtedly Lottie’s singing. She could hear her Granny teetering along, singing the melody alongside their houseguest, sounding like she was having a grand ol’ time. She pushed the kitchen half-door open and was delighted by the sight of Lottie and her grandmare doing a jokey jig around each other as they warbled on through a song she’d never heard. When Lottie finally spotted her, her face darkened in embarrassment almost instantly, but she didn’t lose her goofy smile. “Hey, Applejack.” She chuckled breathlessly. “We’re just…singing to the bread.” “Hoooo-ey!” Granny whooped joyfully. “I’m likin’ this Dolly mare! Got any other tunes she done?” “Well, there’s not too many high notes in “Jolene”, but I’ll take a crack at it.” She shrugged, leaning against the counter and tapping her foot to a beat. Applejack listened as she sang a sadder song, and as she did, the air was thick with an electric emotion. She wondered to herself if this was Lottie’s magic? Or just the sincerity of the singing getting to her, she supposed it could be either. Her voice scratched in odd places and sometimes she’d hit a note that didn’t seem like it matched the next, but it still moved Applejack in a way she couldn’t quite explain. When it was over, she opened her eyes and Applejack felt the air around her seem to settle; whatever had been sweeping over them was slowly fading away. Lottie sniffed the air and crouched down to peek into the oven and see the bread’s progress. “You think it’s almost done? I only know so many Dolly songs. Unless you guys wanna hear the best of Queen, I hope this won’t take much longer.” “Your queen is a singer?” Applejack tilted her head, smelling the bread rising in the air. “Humans must be as musical as ponies, huh?” “No that’s not right, though if you thought I couldn’t hit Dolly’s high notes, Freddy’s highs’ll damn near kill me.” She laughed. Applejack was happy to see Lottie feeling better, and she could only hope that it would last. As she finally got around to fixing up some lemonade, Big Mac came in for a break too. “It’ll just be another minute!” she told her bewildered brother as he watched Lottie and Granny Smith bopping along to a song about how love was a crazy little thing, and Applejack herself couldn’t help but get pulled into it too. Either human music was strangely catchy or there really was some magic at work. A few more songs from this “Freddie” fella and the bread loaves were done and cooling. Lottie happily partook of some lemonade to soothe her throat. For a gal that didn’t talk as much as others, all that singing must’ve taken it’s toll. “You should hear me after a car trip.” She laughed. “I get all raspy.” Their break lasted a but longer than usual, but it couldn’t be helped with the delicious smell in the air. “So this is your Granny Sugar’s bread?” she asked, watching her friend slice it up for them to try. “Not gonna lie, it looks mighty fine!” “Thanks. Here’s hoping it tastes as good as it looks.” She gave them a weary smile. “And, y’know, that it’s got some magic in it and all that.” In any other context, that would’ve given the Apple siblings pause. But when they learned that Granny Smith had apparently been baking with her own magic for what had to be since before they were born, the thought of food infused with magic didn’t seem to be such a big deal. And when she took the first bite of this bread, still warm, it was like a cozy feeling swept over her. Her aching muscles from her hard day felt like she had been soaking in a hot bath, and her mind was calm. As good as it tasted, different hints of sweet things all mixed into a harmonious blend, good bread had never made her feel like that before. “Well I’ll be.” She smiled, taking another bite. “If that ain’t magic, I don’t know what is.” “Well that’s a relief.” Lottie sighed with a smile. “I was hoping I didn’t do all that singing for nothing.” “You did yur grandmare proud, Miss Blue.” Granny smiled, patting her on the back. Lottie’s smile got brighter, and when she laughed, it wasn’t laced with her usual sadness or self-doubt. And it made Applejack feel much better regarding her friend. “Thank you, Granny.” She smiled. “I think this magic thing isn’t quite as bad as I thought it was.” When they were done with their sampling, Lottie split the second loaf into thirds and wrapped them all in brown paper, tying them up with some twine. “You gonna give those away?” she smiled, feeling content. “You be sure to make more of it for your favorite pony family soon, ya hear?” “Eeyup.” Her brother smiled wryly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll whip up some more soon.” She smiled, putting the packages into a bag. “Save some of that for Apple Bloom. I’ll be back before dinner.” I stopped by Twilight’s place first, and a tired-looking Spike answered the door. I told him the bread was special, and if he shared it with Twilight, they’d both feel a lot better. He seemed excited at the sight of it, and I could tell it was taking a lot of self-control to not just scarf the whole thing down. “Twilight’ll be happy to know that I’m on my way to learning how to control my magic, and the proof is in the pudding.” I faltered. “Well, in…in the bread…same thing.” “Huh. Magic bread.” Spike didn’t seem too impressed, though one could supposed living with someone as magical as Twilight would do that to a kid. Next on my list of ponies was probably the most important. Pinkie Pie had been walking on air all morning. Everything in her life was just right. And the icing on the cake: Nightmare Night was just two days away! She couldn’t wait to get all dressed up, get some candy, spend some time with her friends! And while she’d asked Lottie about hanging out on Nightmare Night before the town had even known about her, now their plans could be out and about in Ponyville! The fluttery feeling in her belly hadn’t stopped since last night, and anytime her thoughts would wander to her newest friend, her heart would beat so loud and it felt like her head was stuffed full of cotton candy. As light and fluffy as it made her feel, it had it’s downsides. She’d almost let a batch of cupcakes burn this morning, and she forgot one customer’s order as soon as he told it to her. She wondered if she was coming down with something. What in Equestria could be making her feel this way? When her wayward thoughts were floating around like so many loose balloons, a familiar face stepped through the front door. “Lottie Dottie!” she smiled so wide, stepping out from behind the counter without a second thought. “It’s so good to see you!” “Heya Pinkie.” She smiled back, and it made the fluttery feeling in her belly go absolutely bonkers. “Uh, I can wait in line if you guys are busy.” “We’re not-” With an attention-grabbing cough, she realized she had left two customers waiting. With an embarrassed smile, she zipped back behind the counter and served them properly, with an extra cookie in their bags to apologize. When Lottie made it to the counter, she had to take a deep breath to calm her heart down. “Super sorry about all that! I don’t know what I was thinking!” she smiled nervously, casually leaning on the counter, only to accidentally knock over the little basket for fresh order slips. With a sour grimace, she zoomed around to clean everything up. “Everything alright there?” her friend asked. And when she tried to tell her that everything was fine, she found that she couldn’t say anything, feeling awfully tongue-tied. It was worse than when the Poison Joke had made it all spotted and swollen. She settled on what she hoped seemed like a super-casual nod. “…Alright. Hey, I made something.” She pulled a little brown paper package out of her bag, and Pinkie could smell something sweet and super delicious even through the wrapping. “It’s some of my Grandma Sugar’s special bread, Granny Smith had the recipe so I gave it a try.” She held it out for Pinkie to take from her, and when her hooves brushed Lottie’s hands, it was like an electric shock went up her, her mane poofing up even more than usual. If Lottie noticed, she didn’t mention it. “I practiced using my voice magic on it, and Applejack seems to think it worked.” She smiled, the sight making Pinkie’s ears flutter as bad as her belly. “You’ll have to let me know how it turned out, alright?” She could only nod, with her usual big smile. Lottie looked at her, a little confused maybe, but seemed to shrug it off. “Hey, we still on for uhh…Nightmare Night? Right?” she asked, taking a step towards the door. “I’m gonna work on my costume tonight and tomorrow, it should be good to go.” Realizing she still couldn’t speak, Pinkie shoved a bunch of the shop’s cookies in her mouth, waving Lottie goodbye with a muffled, crumbly “Yep, sounds good, see you then!” It came out more like “YUR, SOW GIR, SHUR YUR FENN!”, but she think she got the message across. Lottie just blinked with a confused smile and a shrug, continuing towards the door. “Cool. Later!” she seemed to take it all in stride. Heading out the door finally. Pinkie’s whole body relaxed all at once, and she started to wonder if she might be seriously ill. “It doesn’t get that bad with anypony else…” she sighed, resting her head on the counter. “What the hay is the matter with me??” Rarity was hard at work on something, so I told her I wouldn’t be long. I gave her the same explanation for the bread I’d given Spike and Pinkie, and she seemed curious. About other things too, but like Applejack, she seemed to keep it to herself. “Well, thank you for the nice treat, dear Charlotte.” She smiled, moving her red glasses to sit on her horn for a moment while she stretched. “If it’s as refreshing as you say, you might have to make more for me soon. The colder seasons are my busy months, everypony dressing up in one thing or another.” “I’d be happy to, seeing as you’ve done so much for me.” I assured her. “Though I was hoping you could sell me something real quick so I could get a late start on my Nightmare Night costume?” And at the end of the day, the materials weren’t that expensive. So Rarity, ever the generous pony, thought it would be a good idea to do a little bartering and trade the materials for another loaf of the bread I’d made. I told her she had a deal, and I was on my way. Later that same day, many ponies tried Lottie’s grandmare’s bread for the first time. Apple Bloom, somewhat sore she’d missed out on fresh-baked bread like the rest of her family, couldn’t help but feel better when she tasted the mix of so many sweet things in a wonderful blend. She felt like she could tackle her homework with no trouble at all! Spike and Twilight felt strangely refreshed after having a study break snack, Twilight feeling equal parts jealous and proud for Lottie getting such a handle on her magic. It helped them to feel a little bit better, more energized and ready to get right back to work. Pinkie saved her slices of bread to share with the Cakes, and it made them all feel so light and fluffy. Soon they were all laughing together, having a great time. Mrs. Cake was especially impressed, as her family had run a bread-based bakery right in this very building before she’d steered it more towards baking and confections. She knew good bread, and this was good bread. It made Pinkie feel like she was lighter than air. Rarity shared her part with her younger sister, sitting down to a relaxing after school and work tea time. After a long day of sewing and casting spells, the tasty slices made her feel so warm and oddly content, and Sweetie Belle wondered if Lottie could make other stuff just as good as this. When Rarity informed her that more was coming soon, Sweetie couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. All in all, ponies were satisfied. And while Lottie wouldn’t know how they felt about it for a little bit, she felt a sense of accomplishment in getting something done and making people happy. But strangely… I hadn’t craved a cigarette since I got here until right that moment. The one I’d bummed from Teddy at Grandpa’s wake was more to deal with the stress of the day, and it’d been a long time since I’d smoked before that. But now I could honestly say that the cravings were hitting me hard. It was all psychological, of course. The only time I’d smoked in earnest was when I was unmedicated, and being off my meds now was making me want what I used to use to cope. That and some good old-fashioned self-medicating with a few stiff drinks. “God, it’s like I was a whole different person...” I said to myself on the way back to Sweet Apple Acres. I remembered how Stacy had reacted to finding out what I gotten up to senior year, after the Claire stuff and my subsequent “incident” happened. She couldn’t imagine the quiet, awkward bullying victim she’d known as the waste-case I’d tell her about from time to time. Per my parents’ wishes, of course I’d started therapy and medication, because I’d desperately needed it, but that initial self-loathing (that never really went away if I’m being honest) was hitting me hard at the time. Sometimes I would accidentally miss my appointments, but if pressed I might have admitted to just not wanting to go. Sometimes I fell off my meds, no matter how bad for me it was to just suddenly go cold turkey. And like a stupid, just-turned-eighteen, irresponsible, miserable headcase I was, my solution to all of it was to just to go nuts. I crashed a lot of parties that year. Sometimes they were “teens trying to rebel by partying when their parents were out” parties. Other times they were “this kid’s parents are junkies and haven’t been home in a week so let’s get fucked up” parties. Either way, they made Pinkie’s parties look like a church service by comparison. I wasn’t invited or welcome at any of them, but that didn’t stop me from stealing their liquor and occasionally trashing something just for fun, to get back at whoever happened to be making my life miserable that week. I eventually found some refuge in the other go-nowhere idiots at these kinds of things. Not friends in the slightest, but they knew what I’d done at my own school and didn’t care that I was widely considered bad to have around. Cause most of them were the same. They smoked, so eventually I did too. I was already drinking so they brought me along to drink more when the parties died down. They were a bunch of assholes and I couldn’t tell you what they were up to now, but they always had just what I needed when I had some of my worst episodes. Then one day, I’d woken up in Grandpa’s guest room instead of my own bed. I’d bummed a ride from one of the guys and told them to take me to his house for some reason. Maybe because it had always felt like home, maybe more than my actual home. Maybe I’d just been too drunk to remember just where exactly I was supposed to get back to, but never the less, I’d woken up to a different ceiling. And of course, Grandpa was pissed. I willingly attribute the initial four hour lecture he gave me as my first step towards sobriety. Being screamed at with a hangover will do that to you. My parents could tell that I’d been having trouble, but they were so scared of losing me that it turned into treating me like any wrong move or harsh word could send me spiraling. Not to mention they were doing their best to keep a then nine-year-old Mason from knowing just what had been going on with his big sister. But Grandpa knew that even if he was tough with me, I wouldn’t break. And I always thanked him for that, to myself at least. He knew exactly what I had gone through; he was the one who got me to the hospital that night before it was too late. But he wasn’t about to let me act like someone with no one to care about them when I knew damn well I had people who would hurt if something happened to me. I stayed at his house for a while, that year. Just to be in a new environment. Just to breathe a little easier. He was technically retired, so he could be there around the clock. He was the one I had long, complicated talks with, the one who rode my ass about taking my meds and took me to my therapy appointments even if he had to drag me, the one who was just…there when I needed him. He even helped me get back into sewing. My therapist had been the one to suggest finding something to keep my hands and mind busy, but Grandpa, without a word, had dug up all of Grandma’s old sewing supplies and just…given them to me, even her sewing machine. On some of my rougher nights, he’d even stayed up with me into the wee hours and tried his best to sew something along with me. Nothing says someone cares more than how many times they would prick their fingers with a sewing needle and just keep going, half-muffled swearing and all. And I know my parents cared, they still did. But the day that Grandpa died, some little piece of me died too. When I was a kid, I had really stupid ideas. Like, so stupid. And my parents didn’t really…get it. But he did. Once, I wanted to do photography and take pictures of animals, but none of the neighborhood stray cats would hold still long enough, so he let me take all of Grandma’s old, kitschy animal figurines and pose them around the neighborhood. They were stupid and blurry and looked very much like a child had taken pictures of ceramic deer and the like, but to me it was an artistic achievement. He even sprung for fancy printer paper and helped me turn the pictures into a calendar, just because we could. We were once in the checkout line at the local grocery store and there were all these cardboard boxes sitting there near the counter and I couldn’t explain why, but I wanted them. And any other adult in my life would’ve said no, but he asked if he could take them and we went back home with half a dozen flattened boxes, which I spent the next two days turning into a cardboard dollhouse. It was shoddy and the details were drawn on in marker, but I had a blast. And he asked me a dozen questions about my “process” and it delighted little Lottie. Another time, it was the class hamster’s birthday, and I wanted to bake him a little hamster cake. And I was smart enough to know that he couldn’t eat a real cake, but not smart enough to know that if you microwave hamster food in the shape of one it smells really terrible and smokes like it was going to burst into flames. And he’d let me do all of it, because even if it was stupid, I was learning something. And he made sure I never got hurt or started any actual fires. He let me be recklessly creative when any other adult in my life would’ve told me no, and it led to me being more creative overall, because I wasn’t afraid to try new things. He was the adult I asked all my stupid, little kid questions, because he was the only person I knew who would take everything out of my mouth one-hundred percent seriously. He still had a limit to his patience, he wasn’t a saint. But he never brushed me off and if he knew the answer, he would tell me. Grandma Jackie was the same way. I remembered her, from time to time. I was really young when she passed away, but thoughts of her crept in, from time to time. The clearest memory I have of her was the time I had to come home sick from preschool and my parents were stuck at work, so I of course went to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. I don’t remember what I had, but I was in bed all day, and she stayed with me the whole time. She sat in her chair nearby and knitted, checking on me every now and again, and the rhythm of her knitting needles lulled me to sleep. It’s harder and harder to remember her face as time goes on without checking a photo album, but I might never forget that sound. Grandma Russo was there for me, in her own way, as much as she could be for a woman I didn’t even know was my grandmother. I’d adored her as a little kid, the little old lady Grandpa took me to see who always had a pie baking and told really corny jokes. When I was a stupid, reckless teen, she’d been a bit more curmudgeonly, nothing that I didn’t deserve. But she was always there for me, even as an adult, and I’d loved her long before I knew we were family. I wish I could tell her. I wish I could walk right up to her and tell her how much I love her, not as a neighbor or my Grandpa’s old friend, but as my only surviving grandparent. I wanted to let her know just how much she meant to me, and how I wished I’d known so we could’ve spent more time together. Baking her recipe had brought back a lot of these memories, and it was almost too much to feel all at once. I hadn’t really let myself grieve Grandpa’s death. And with everything that had happened since I got stuck in Equestria, it hadn’t exactly slipped my mind, but it had gotten pushed to the wayside. I would have to deal with it, in my own way, maybe I could have a talk with Applejack or Granny Smith. They hadn’t said it explicitly, but I could tell they had their own losses in their family. Maybe after all the Nightmare Night excitement, I could sit down and have that talk with ponies who cared about me. “This costume isn’t gonna sew itself." Diamond Tiara was thoroughly exhausted. Behaving herself at school was taking it’s toll on her. But it was only for a couple more days. Her father would tell her how proud he was of her, they’d all get dressed up, she’d spend the night out with Silver Spoon and they’d show off their costumes and get so much candy, they wouldn’t know what to do with it. She felt guilty, hiding most of her candy from Mother. If she knew how much she brought home every year, she’d hear no end to how mares shouldn’t indulge in too many sweets, as it made them unappealing. The diets she was put on around the holidays were never any fun, and she did her best to seem like she wasn’t eating too much. But she still looked forward to her parents telling her all about the fancy, grown-up costume parties they went to with all their business associates. It made her feel so mature, and one day, they’d bring her along and she’d make them so proud. One day, she’d be too big for going door-to-door with her best friend. This year might even be her last time, so she was going to keep her head down and not do anything to endanger it. If anyone or anypony tried to take that away from her… She wanted to do right by her father and just…behave. But her mother told her to assert her status as a high-society mare, and put down those under her. Sometimes it was hard, being a good daughter. But she cleared her mind of all that, focusing on keeping to herself for the next couple of days. “Keep it together, Diamond Tiara.” She told herself, her head hurt just a bit but she took a deep breath. “It’ll be okay…”