//------------------------------// // Act Plus-One // Story: I Just Don't Think He's Right for You // by Aquaman //------------------------------// The night more or less continued how it started. To her credit, Candy Corn made killer martinis, but not even the most celibate monks on the planet could’ve distilled a gin strong enough to keep Applejack’s teeth from grinding at the sight of her cousin — who she loved and supported no matter what — grinding and bumping and all but publicly humping on somepony who liked cracking whips over the the decidedly unsexy type of slave. She had to put a stop to this, right? That was what family was for: to get you out of messes you’d gotten your damn fool self into. It wasn’t Braeburn’s fault, really. He hadn’t been properly out — drinking or otherwise — for more than a year or so. He just didn’t have the kind of experience with ponies that would’ve taught him to know better than this, to take one look at a stallion like King Crystals-Are-A-Great-Substitute-For-Basic-Equine-Morals Sombra and see exactly where even a one-night stand, let alone a relationship, was absolutely inevitably going to end.  She had the experience he didn’t, that’s all. She needed to guide him around the bramble patches she’d sprinted through headfirst. And more urgently than that, she needed a refill. Applejack swiveled in place to flag down a bartender, and found Rainbow Dash next to her, pushing a half-full glass of half-melted ice cubes across the bartop. They exchanged a nod of greeting, and Rainbow Dash’s brow shot up at Applejack’s deep, involuntary sigh. “Geez, usually it’s vodka that gets you like that,” the Wonderbolt remarked. “Striking out?” “I wish somepony had,” Applejack grumbled, nodding towards the impassive black behemoth dominating the dance floor — and, of course, the rakish yellow stallion smeared onto him like butter atop a loaf of pumpernickel.  Rainbow gave a commiserating grunt. “Eesh, yeah. Be nice if villains would stay defeated for once, huh?” Applejack grunted too — first at Rainbow Dash, then at the stallion behind the bar who asked her if she wanted the same as before. Rainbow ordered a whiskey cola, then turned her gaze back to Braeburn.  “He’s pretty different from when the rest of us first met him, isn’t he?” the pegasus mused. “Your cousin, that is. Kinda remember him being less, y’know…” “Stupid,” Applejack growled. “Fruity,” Rainbow Dash said at the same time, wilting a bit as Applejack leveled a stare her way. “But, uh, yeah, what you said too.” “He wasn’t fully himself yet when y’all met him,” Applejack said after another sigh. “Sure you can guess why not.” Dash shrugged and twisted her lips in a way that said she could — and then talked as if she couldn’t. “So, what, you don’t like the new him?” At first, all Applejack could do was furiously sputter. “I love the new him!” she finally managed to spit. “You tellin’ me you don’t? You got a problem with stallions not being stalliony enough for ya?” Rainbow Dash stared at Applejack like she’d grown a second head. Next to Dash, a maroon stallion with electric blue eyeshadow muttered, “Only in the mornings, honey…” “Stars, I…” Applejack mumbled, wilting more with each ensuing word. “Sorry. I’m… I’m on edge.” “No kiddin’,” Rainbow Dash agreed, though to her credit, she sounded more concerned than offended. “I’ve seen Mama Bear Applejack before, but sheesh.” “I just… he’s still so new to this. To bein’ who he really is. He spent years bein’ somepony else, lost so much time, and now he… he oughta get a chance to make up for it. The world owes him that.” Applejack’s gaze settled back on the dance floor and became a glare again. “Owes him better than that.” Rainbow Dash considered the dance floor and the dark nucleus around which the ponies on it revolved, then shrugged again. “Okay, not that I’m the most qualified pony to say this or anything,” she said, “but Sombra is hot.” “Wha… no he’s not!” “AJ, from one dyke to another, he’s gorgeous. We gotta be real here.” “He’s a psychopath!” “Yeah, a psychopath with a granite chin and washboard abs.” “Washboard abs ain’t an excuse for war crimes!” Rainbow Dash shrugged a third time. “Weeeell…” “They ain’t! End of discussion!” “Fine, whatever,” Rainbow Dash muttered into the fresh cocktail she’d just received. “Just sayin’, cockblocking your cousin’s gonna be tough when you’re blocking that much–” “Got it, Rainbow, thanks.” They stood together in silence for a bit, stewing and sipping in equal measure. Then, out of nowhere, Rainbow Dash laughed. “Just occurred to me,” she said once Applejack looked her way. “This is the first time we’ve been back here in years. Like, us. You, me, and Rarity all together.” “Yep,” Applejack said back. “Guess it is.” “Remember her first time here? She was still all torn up over Blueblood, and we were like, ‘Come on, you oughta at least try,’ and then she didn’t even tell us she had tried until, like, four visits later?” “Classic Rarity.” “Classic Rarity.” The chasm of silence returned, wider this time. “I don’t… miss it, really?” Rainbow Dash mused. “Like, being a dumb barely-not-a-kid, drinking too much, situationships, all that. But it was really fun too, despite everything. And it was so casual. No plans, just whoever wanted to go out, would. Now I’m touring and Rarity’s working, Twilight’s Twilight, and… we don’t get to all see each other a lot anymore, y’know? So it’s kinda nice.” She nodded knowingly towards the dance floor. “All that considered, and all.” “Yeah,” Applejack distantly replied. Her gaze had lingered on the dance floor. She was glaring again. “Sure is.” In the corner of her eye, Applejack thought she saw a strange expression flit over Rainbow Dash’s face. By the time she turned her head, though, Rainbow was just flashing her the same cocksure grin Applejack had seen a million times. “And there’s classic Applejack,” Dash chuckled. “Gets her mind set to something, and it’s game over for everything else.” “Sorry,” Applejack said, though she wasn’t quite sure why she was apologizing. “I’m bein’ a bore. You wanna, uh…” “Nah,” Rainbow Dash said, still grinning. “I’ma wander, see what other oldheads are still around. Don’t start any fights without me.” Before Applejack could even think of anything to say to that, let alone say it, Rainbow Dash was gone, drink in hoof and a wing already raised in greeting to two short-maned mares that Applejack really wished she didn’t recognize. She also really wished she didn’t spot her wayward cousin heading her way at the same moment, but so far tonight had been full of everything but her best wishes. “Phew!” Braeburn huffed as he flopped against the bar, occupying the space Rainbow Dash had just vacated. “Haven’t sweat like that since Sunday School!” Applejack acknowledged him with a tight-lipped smile. Braeburn looked at her, looked at the pegasus she’d just been talking with, and put two and two together to make three. “Another one of your exes?” “No,” Applejack grumbled. Suddenly, the mares Rainbow Dash had ambled over to were looking past the Wonderbolt’s wings straight at her fellow Element of Harmony, and Applejack lowered the brim of her hat again as they both chuckled at some inaudible joke. “They are, though.” Braeburn squinted. “Which one?” “Both of ‘em.” Now his eyes went from almonds to tickled-pink dinner plates. “How many mares ‘round these parts haven’t you broken up wi–” “I made bad choices in high school,” Applejack said through her teeth. “And you expect me to believe Miss Small, Sleek, and Polychromatic over there wasn’t one?” “She’s just a friend,” Applejack insisted. “A stubborn and obnoxious one at that.” “Well, don’t that just remind me’a nopony at all.” At this point, Applejack’s glares clearly weren’t having their intended effect on anypony present, but she gave Braeburn a fresh one anyway that he answered with an extended tongue. “Had enough of Sombra?” she grumbled. “Oh, he’s just takin’ a breather,” Braeburn replied. “He tuckers out easy, the poor thing. All that weight he’s carryin’ around, I suppose. You know, he told me last week that–” “Yeah, I bet he’s told you all kinds of things, Braeburn.” She wasn’t sure where the bite in her voice had come from — why what had been frustrating all night long had suddenly become infuriating. She didn’t feel like taking it back, though, even as Braeburn pouted and all her exes laughed and Rainbow Dash wouldn’t look back her way even as she stared, or glared, or whatever it was right at her. Who was Rainbow to talk about classic Applejack, as if she was something other than that now — about oldheads, whatever the hell that meant? They weren’t old. Nothing had changed. Everyone was just being stupid, and it was always on her to be the sober, competent Mama Bear. “Applejack, look–” Braeburn started to say. “Applejack, look!” Twilight loudly interrupted. She was still in mid-stumble towards them at the bar, Rarity trailing a couple steps behind wearing a ‘just humor her, she’s having fun’ smile. Her hoof was extended straight in front of her, pointing at a tray of squat plastic cups filled with wobbling red and blue gelatin. “Jello shots! I’ve never had a jello shot. Can I have a jello shot, Rarity?” “You may have a jello shot, Twilight,” Rarity told her, as she lit her horn and gently prized a mostly-full cocktail out of Twilight’s magical aura. The alicorn bounced in place for a moment, skipped over to the tray, and returned with four plastic cups stacked atop one another, already squeezing the gelatin out of the topmost one onto her tongue “Oh, it’s… buzzy!” Twilight said, smacking her lips. “ Vodka? Is that vodka? Applejack, tell me if this tastes like vodka!” “I’m fine, thanks,” Applejack said to the proffered shot, and for a moment she had two gratingly pouty faces pointed at her. “They’re so good, though!” moaned the princess. “All the drinks here are so good! Rarity, why can’t straight ponies make good cocktails?” “One of life’s great mysteries, darling,” answered Rarity, still smiling. “But perhaps a water would be good too?” “Whaaaat? I’m fine! I’m sho… so fine, Rarity.” “I’d like a water, personally.” “I want a water too! I mean, uh… okay. If you… yeah.” Face scarlet, Twilight slumped over the bar as Rarity signaled the bartender. Applejack closed her own eyes and bit back a sigh. She knew exactly what was coming next — and the thought of it sent consternation rippling through her gut in a way that felt exactly like bone-deep fatigue. “I’m sorry, Rarity,” Twilight groaned. “I’m drunk. I’m straight and I’m drunk at a gay bar.” “Indeed you are, darling.” “You’re not drunk.” “Ladies rarely are, darling.” A don’t-worry-baby-I’ll-pull-out pause followed, and then: “You’re sho pretty, Rarity.” Rarity chuckled and said, “You’re very pretty too, Twilight,” and Applejack bit her tongue. Here they went again: Twilight getting a few drinks in her, insisting she’d never in her life had an impure thought about anypony without a beard and rancid body odor, and then proceeding to say the gayest things Applejack had ever heard pass through a mare’s lips. “All my friends are sho pretty,” Twilight slurred. “I’ve never seen a stallion who was prettier than you, Rarity. Not even here. Like, I get butterflies in my stomach and my wings get flappy and I’m not even… not that I’d mind if I was! That’d be great. Stallions can be such jerks someti… lots of times. I get so many love letters, and they’re sho gross, and you’re not gross, Rarity, you’re sho…” It’d been an inside joke among their friend group for years: if someone who hadn’t figured out their identity yet was an egg, Twilight was a whole bisexual dozen, and Rarity was just chuckling at her now and even Braeburn was smirking. Even Braeburn could see how obvious it was — and yet he’d still go home with a monster who’d do nothing but hurt him, and Twilight would sober up and grit her teeth through dates with stallions and make miserable puppy-dog eyes at Rarity like there was nothing she could do to change her unfortunate lot in life. They’d be so much happier if they just stopped being stupid, if they stopped lying to themselves about who they were, if the music was as good as it used to be and the drinks weren’t so heavy and she didn’t feel so moondamn– “Ugh,” Twilight grumbled. “I’m old.” Rarity’s eyebrows twitched. Applejack just about drew blood from her tongue. “Oh, please,” Rarity said. “You’re not–” “I’m thirty,” Twilight half-wailed. “I’m ancient. I wasted my whole twenties studying and saving the world and doing stupid grownup stuff, and I missed out. This is so much fun. I’m having so much fun. Almost wish I was, y’know… ugh. I guess I’m just drunk. Why does being drunk always make me so–” “Twilight, you’re bi!” Twilight’s mouth snapped shut. Rarity pulled her lips tight across her teeth. Even the music seemed to stutter into a lull as Applejack’s heart thumped in her ears like the beat of songs she used to know, like a drum she’d spent too long resisting the urge to pound for all it was worth.  “You like mares,” she went on, unsteady on her hooves, feeling like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff and could no longer fight the urge to fling herself bodily off of it. “We know. You might be the only pony in town who doesn’t know. And it’s fine! Go on and like ‘em! Or don’t, and quit carryin’ on about it like, ‘Oh, I wouldn’t mind, oh, wouldn’t that be nice,’ like it’d be so awful to stop lyin’ to yourself and just do it. Drives me up the moondamned wall, watchin’ y’all torture yourselves for no good reason, degradin’ yourself for ponies who don’t deserve to even…” Applejack ran out of breath, and grabbed a jello shot before so she’d have something on her tongue besides the long-suppressed truth. By the time she swallowed, Twilight was blinking rapidly, Braeburn was stone-faced, and Rarity’s jaw was clenched so tight Applejack could’ve checked her pulse from the vein bulging out under her horn. “Oh,” Twilight said, her voice husky at first and not much improved after she cleared her throat. “I, uh… didn’t know you feel so strongly about it. I’m… sorry. I should’ve…” “Twilight–” Rarity started to say. “No, she’s right, Rarity,” Twilight dully went on. “I’m… I’ve been silly, I guess. Clearly. I should, uh… I’m gonna just… b-bathroom’s that way, right?” “Yes,” Rarity told her. “Would you like me to–” “I’ll show ‘er,” Braeburn interrupted, wrapping a hoof around Twilight’s shoulder, face still hard as stone. For a second, his gaze lingered on Applejack like he meant it to come off as… no, because it was a glare. “Think everypony could use a bit’a breathin’ space right now.” “B-Braeburn, just…” Applejack stammered. “I-I’m just sayin’...” “Think you’ve said enough, cousin,” Braeburn coolly replied, and he left Applejack gaping in his wake as he led Twilight towards the restrooms. She’d screwed up. She knew that much. She just didn’t know how. “Rarity, what–” she started to say, and again she was coldly cut off. “You know, Applejack,” Rarity said, razor-sharp stalactites hanging from every word, “I’ve found many ponies upsetting in my lifetime. Very few of them can infuriate me as comprehensively as you.” “I just told ‘er the truth…” “Oh yes, the truth,” Rarity seethed. “That bastion of all things moral and good in the world, that perfect binary of noble honesty and contemptible lies. Has it ever occurred to you, my fellow paragon, that the innermost complexities of another living creature may extend ever so slightly beyond what seems on the outermost surface to be true?” “W-Well…” “No more candid invective for me? No more truth? Well, then allow me to offer some of my own: identity, who a pony is in their mind and soul, is not a binary matter. There are lies which give comfort to those uncomfortable with themselves, and truths which can stick in the heart like thorns and leave a shell of a pony in their wake, and a substantial component of being a grown adult is learning how to differentiate between the two.” “But they’re just…” “Doing what? Making mistakes? Suffering unnecessary pain? Dearest darling vexatious Applejack, that is what mortal creatures do. We bumble through life collecting endless ill-advised scars on our bodies and minds and hearts, and then after several decades of that, with noted and limited exceptions, we die. That is what we are. That is the ungainly mess of truths and mistruths from which identity is born. And frankly, the most dishonest thing a mare can tell herself is that it is her place, and no one else’s, to interfere in that process without being asked, so she can bludgeon another living creature’s identity into a shape she thinks is correct.” Applejack gaped, then grit her teeth, then growled. “Oh, for… that ain’t what I’m doin’! Twilight was torturin’ herself. Sombra’s a monster.” “Perhaps she was. Perhaps he is. And once you’ve dragged Twilight and Braeburn away from what might hurt them, what will be left of them to preserve? What will they have learned? How will they have grown into someone who won’t make even worse mistakes in the future?” “The future is the future. They’ll be safe now. They won’t make the same mistakes that…” Rarity’s eyes narrowed like a viper’s, and her words cut through Applejack like fangs. “That you did? My oh my, if only you’d had someone to protect you from your younger self. Imagine the misery you could be causing now.” Applejack opened her mouth to retort, and at first nothing came out. “I’m just tryin’ to…” she eventually croaked. “I love him. I support him. I want him to be happy.” “Is that so?” Rarity sniffed. “You might try acting like it, then.” Then she turned away and stalked towards the restrooms, and Applejack stood alone by the bar as the din of the crowd washed over her.