quarter to 2 in the morning or smth - february 18th 992 - facula primary school, fledermaus
egg drop challenges, the thing schools do to try to keep unengaged students engaged for a single period which works like half of the time but the results are normally very funny
either the kids could not give any less of a fuck about any of this shit and think a parachute will do it or you have a kid (me) who gets waaaaay into it and takes it way way way too seriously
class was about twenty-six foals and we were split into pairs, in my case i was paired with selenite (my twin sister). we usually get along together pretty well it made sense to pair us we do understand each other more than anypony else ever but we arent always compatible? like when we started she grabbed this physics book and dove right in trying to figure out the physics but im here like, thats boring! i dont wanna READ shit! i wanna DO shit! thats way easier and way better fr you dont learn shit by reading you learn shit by doing and then fucking up and then doing again and fucking up and then finally giving in and checking a book by finding the right page with the solution and then doing it again and still fucking up and then doing it ONE LAST TIME where you get it right
my device was uhhhh idk how to describe it its kind of like a triangle thing made of of straws, plastic straws not the other sort of straw in hay or whatever, moon “straw” is such a weird word isnt it? straw. straw. try saying straw aloud like five times, it doesn’t even sound like a real word. but anyway the device, it looks like like, wait i got a spare post-it in my pocket lemme just- no thats a screwdriver- no shit thats WOW i cant mention that around fillies- ok thats a peanut??- ok ok here
there look
its like a straw pyramid containing the egg each of the straws is about 7 and a half centimeters and taped to each edge of the pyramid is longer straws. wait, shit i wrote staws instead of straws, pretend you didnt see that.
see it works because the force of the impact goes up through the straws and because none of the straws lead towards the egg the force never touches the egg. as long as the build is sturdy and the egg is well kept in the centre its not gonna be anywhere near the ground and the straws will absorb all the impact. physics!! funny i tried explaining this to my other classmates once i had my completed device and LITERALLY only selenite got it ok everyone else is just stupid
at this point im meant to describe the process of building it but i wont, because describing that would be boring as shit! all you need to know is that i spent the next twenty minutes cobbling together crap plastic straws with tape using my bare hooves and it drives me MAD that NOPONY ever stops to think how can our HARD HOOVES handle these precise delicate tools we have NO APOSABLE APPENDAGES how do i hold a wrench or fold paper with a HOOF is it “just magic”? is that how we hoofwave everything? is that what we tell ourselves as a distraction from the fact that none of these tools INCLUDING the very wrench eternally plastered on my flank was designed with equine anatomy in mind?
anyway i made my egg drop device. selenite was still nose deep in her book by the time i was done with it literally not even noticing how much time had gone by. i’d finished putting the final touches on my thing when the teacher called it. we got up and went outside after that.
everypony, nearly everypony, at our school was a bat pony so it was as simply as one of the two ponies who made it flying up around 8 meters and dropping. what followed was VERY funny, like some kids dropped theres halfway up and it broke, most devices were like these basket parachute things that straight up didnt work, or fell apart mid air, or broke on impact. one kid put their egg in a tub of peanut butter??? why??
i was up last, selenite took a look at my design and she figured it was good and im glad we agreed because MAN i was nervous when i went up, not because i doubt the design i just get goosebumps when the spotlight is on me EEE its weird its weird!!
delicately OH SO DELICATELY i carry my (not mine and selenite’s MINE ask her she’ll tell you it was COMPLETELY MINE) device out into the yard. i spread my wings and i shot skywards, some , then i got confident and went HIGHER, TWICE AS HIGH as the others, and the dramatic music starts playing (you should be playing dramatic music in your head right now) and after releasing a breathe i didnt know i was holding i let go and
TIME
STOPS
there are moments in the history of ponykind that are remembered for centuries to come as signals of great innovation. the discovery of new mareland. the pony wright brothers famous flight. pony james watt’s invention of the crystal-electric engine. this isnt one of them not even close but it felt sorta big at the time. perchance. my device, so light and so delicate, descends to the ground in a timeframe that felt like hours but in truth was less than two seconds until-
HOLY SHIT, NO WAY! it worked exactly as intended. UNHARMED. UNTOUCHED. PERFECTLY PRESERVED NOT EVEN A MOON DAMN SCRATCH ON THE EGG. the teacher looked excited and the classmates applauded me but then i felt something funny on my flank. i was like “oh moon please no dont tell me im destined to make EGG DROP DEVICES for the rest of my life” but then i check and its this weird moon wrench thing which works
honestly i think everypony stopped caring that their egg drop devices all sucked and were just cheering for me getting my cutie mark, selenite was straight up ecstatic and the teachers called our parents right away. great night, loved it, 10/10, would smash (not the egg tho)
16:48 - 6/04/1008 - Lunar Castle, Everfree Forest
Poca threw himself back onto the sofa, a proud smirk across his muzzle. “So, whatcha think?”
Sweetie’s mouth hung open. Apple Bloom stared blankly. Scootaloo blinked, then blinked again.
“That’s it?” Sweetie finally said.
Just as quickly as it appeared Poca’s smile fell into a frown. “Hey, look, there’s not many ways I can make an egg drop story interesting alright? Put my own spin on it, worth something then. Least it’s unique.”
“Sure, but,” Scootaloo chimed in, “did you need to tell it like that?”
“Well- I- Ju-” Poca stammered, gesturing with his hooves unpredictably. “What did you expect? You wanted my story, I gave you my story!”
“Ah don’t mind the story,” Apple Bloom said, “like she said it’s how you told it, ya just wouldn’t stop swearin’, went off on awkward tangents, didn’t really try and explain anythin’ in detail, sorta just a mess to listen to, and- and ya can't just say 'perchance' randomly-”
“Well, not all of us can be master storytellers!” Poca complained. “Throw me a bone here! Moon damn!”
The fillies turned to look at each other, then back at Poca, then back at each other. “Whatever,” Sweetie sighed, slumping back.
“Y’know what,” Sol hopped to his feet, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”
A forced, awkward smile on his face, Sol scurried out of the room.
Some moments passed without a word being said. The Crusaders sank into their seats, either staring at the ceiling or sharing looks with each other while Poca quietly sulked with his forelegs crossed. Nopony made a sound until Carte broke the silence. “For what it's worth, dear, I thought your story was wonderfully told. Unorthodox perhaps, but undeniably yours,” Carte said, putting a leg around Poca’s shoulders and pulling him closer.
“Hmgrh,” Poca grunted, his lips slightly curling into a small smile. “Thanks, hm. Thanks.”
Giggling, Carte pushed himself closer to Poca. “Have to say, I love a pony who’s passionate and unapologetically themselves,” Carte purred, caressing Poca’s chest. A bright red blush flashed on Poca’s face, as he released a laugh, his lips curled into an uneasy smirk. Carte delicately leaned in close and whispered into Poca’s ear. “I wonder, where else will you take that passion?”
“Oh, gross!” Sweetie screeched, hopping up and grabbing the attention of the two stallions. “We’re right here you know!”
“Yeah, get a room!” Scootaloo groaned. “Yeesh!”
Apple Bloom just tried to ignore the smutty stallions.
With a smirk, Carte hopped to his hooves. “Point taken! Poca darling, come.”
“Uh?” Poca blankly blinked at Carte. “Okay!” he grinned, stumbling out of the sofa. Carte gracefully cantered to one of the exits, a gleeful yet floundering Poca in tow, and as they stepped through a door and slammed it behind them. With that, the Crusaders were on their own again.
They were quiet for a minute, mostly just glancing around the now empty chamber. In the silence, the minutiae of the chamber came into focus for each of the fillies. The barely audible ambient buzz of the castle at work, the ticking of the clock which agonizinly crept towards five o’clock at a snails pace, as well as the thought that these sofas might be too large and soft for ponies of their size.
“I tell ya’,” Apple Bloom said, “next pony who comes in, I ain’t askin’ ‘em for a cutie mark story. Been too dang weird and they’ve put a bad taste in mah mouth. The nice pony had a violent story, the nice story came from a weird pony, and the first dang story was nuts and from a nutjob.”
“Even if they look like they’ve got a really cool story?” asked Sweetie Belle.
“I don’t care if they’re the sort of pony who’s beggin’ to be asked,” Apple Bloom said fiercely, “a pony who screams ‘I have an interestin’ cutie mark story’ from just lookin’ at em’, it’s prolly gonna be a crazy messed up story that ends with somepony dead.”
“If that sort of pony shows up, I’ll just ask them myself,” Scootaloo scoffed.
Almost as if on cue, one of the doors burst open and a unicorn mare came storming through. “Bloody hell, where the fook is it?” she grunted, catching the attention of the Crusaders. The mare hastily trotted around the sofas, keeping her head close to the ground as her eyes scanned the space beneath her. Immediately, the fillies’ (sans Apple Bloom) faces lit up with curiosity as they wanted to know what the mare was up to, especially as they couldn’t put a name to her accent.
“Agh!” the mare groaned. The fillies couldn’t see the look on her face to figure out whether the groan was in pain or anger, as she was behind the sofa on the opposite side of the chamber. They heard the twinkle of magic, and the mare’s head popped out from behind the sofa with a dusty grey-brown book in her magical aura. “Who in the name’a fook left this here? A tome of unimaginable power and wisdom, and some cretin leaves it under a random bloody sofa? What sort of retar-”
The mare froze. Only now had she realised that the room was occupied, and her piercing bronze-golden eyes stared at the three fillies whilst her tightly-closed lips trembled. It gave the trio a better look at the new entrant, her greasy black mane, tied into a ponytail at the back, her moss-green coat that appeared slightly thicker than the average pony’s, and an outfit that consisted of a light-purple shirt, ebony waistcoat and pants, and silver-blue bolo tie.
“Hey, Miss!” Scootaloo put an endearing smile on her face. “We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders, ponies-”
“Not now!” the mare barked back, pulling the book close to her chest. “Can'tcha see I’m busy here ye bam?”
“Bam?” Scootaloo tilted her head, eyebrow raised.
“Bam! Below-average mentality!” the mare spat back. “Means you’re a daftie!”
“Daftie?”
“An eejit!”
“Eejit?”
“A tube!”
“Tube!?”
“An idiot!”
Scootaloo’s mouth hung open briefly. “...oh. Anyway! We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders, ponies dedicated to helping others discover their true talents! And if there’s one thing we love-”
“Did you not listen to a word I just said?” the mare murmured whilst she stared blankly at Scootaloo.
“-it’s hearing how other ponies got their cutie marks to learn how best to push ponies along to discovering their own! So, Miss, if you’d be so kind-”
“Lassie,” the mare said, much calmer than before but still obviously irritated. “I’m not in a very story-sharin’ mood right now, and I have no idea who you are. Let’s leave it at that, alright? Alright.”
“Then let’s start with names! I’m Scootaloo!” Scootaloo said with a grin. She then gestured to her friends, “and these are my friends Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom!”
“Oh, brother…” Apple Bloom buried her face in her hooves.
“Hi?” Sweetie waved.
“What’s your name, Miss?” Scootaloo scooted to the edge of the sofa, leaning forward.
In response, the mare grumbled. “My name is Polar Star,” she lied. While she didn’t reveal it then, this was a pseudonym she used to avoid telling ponies her true name: Grim Fate.
“Okay Polar Star,” Scootaloo said, waving her over, “may we see your cutie mark?”
Grim’s eyes rapidly shot from filly to filly, her body stiff. “Alright,” she said as she untensed, “fine.”
Placing the book on the central table and releasing it from her magical grasp, in plain view, Grim made her way around the sofa and up to the fillies. She unfastened the belt on her pants and pulled them down, showing the trio the side of her bare flank, which displayed an unfurled scroll inscribed with illegible red ink behind a sickle. “I’m a mage, a specialist in a particular sort of magic, that’s what my cutie mark is about,” she explained. Sweetie and Scootaloo examined it with intrigue, while Apple Bloom looked at it out of politeness more than anything else.
“Cool!” Sweetie said.
“And how did you get it?” Scootaloo asked.
Grim stumbled back, pulling a forehoof up as her eyebrows pulled together. “I- Alright, I’m not from Equestria, I’m not from what you’d call a ‘civilised’ part of the world, so it’s not a pleasant story. It’s a crazy messed up story that ends up with somepony dead-”
“Told ya!” Apple Bloom half-groaned half-gloated.
“-so I’ll be warning you now,” Grim pulled up her pants and fixed her belt. “Do you really wanna know how I got this cutie mark?”
“Yes!” Scootaloo sat up straight.
“Eh, sure,” Sweetie settled back.
“No…” Apple Bloom sank down.
Grim shrugged. “Well, if you insist," she said. Then she threw out a hoof and spoke in a dramatic bellow. "Long ago in a distant land, I Gr- uh, Polar Star, the enigmatic master of magic…”