//------------------------------// // Family Time // Story: Cutie Mark Catastrophes // by Wintergreen Diaries //------------------------------// Chapter 14: Family Time “Hey, Applejack! Do you have a moment?” Pregnant, exasperated, and quite worn out from an afternoon of self-inflicted chores with which to give herself an excuse to be anywhere but near the cordial stallion trotting towards her, the mare heaved a sigh, gave the tree one last buck, and shook a drop of sweat from her snout as Braeburn neared. “What is it, Braeburn? Make it quick, ah gotta finish up here so ah can get ready for tonight.” Preferably by guzzlin’ a quart o’ juice an’ tellin’ mahself it’s wine. What ah wouldn’t give fer a nice drop o’ moonshine right now... To Applejack’s surprise, Braeburn gave a contrite nod, even pausing a moment before speaking. “Need t’ get cleaned up fer tonight? Well, that’s certainly a fine idea. Ain’t proper manners t’ entertain when yer sweatin’ from a long day's work,” he conceded, nodding his approval. “May want to add some fragrance in there somewhere, cousin. That kind of smell just doesn’t mesh well with good home cookin’.” “Honest as ever, ain’t ya...” Applejack murmured, staring at the basket filled to the brim with fragrant apples before her, reluctantly finding some appreciation for her cousin’s forthrightness. “Ah suppose ah could use a shower, but ah’m sure that’s not what ya came over here t’ tell me. What’s on yer mind, cousin?” “Granny Smith just spent no small amount of time telling me how important tonight is to Applebloom,” Braeburn explained, trotting over and glancing around at the buckets ringed around the tree. “I’ve been told she’s taken a real shine to that gray colt that had the nice manners, an’ that his family is coming over t’ join us fer dinner.” “That’s right,” Applejack confirmed, a little taken aback by her cousin’s serious behavior. “Why, is that a problem?” “Not in the slightest, cousin. I’m sure they’re real nice folk, I’m just a little worried about them joinin’ us is all. First impressions are right important, an’ I’m sure Applebloom must have spent a good portion of the day frettin’ over this.” Applejack was taken aback, completely at a loss for words. Not only was Braeburn displaying a startling amount of self-awareness, but he was acting on it with a maturity she rarely witnessed with him. “I can’t imagine how hard it would be for her if somepony did something right improper and embarrassin’...” Braeburn’s rumination turned to confusion as Applejack gave him a reassuring hug and a few words of comfort that nearly escaped as a squeal of glee, so great was her relief. “Finally, somepony’s comin’ round! Oh, ah thought ah’d never see the day... Now, don’t you worry none, cousin Braeburn! It seems you’ve finally got yer head on straight, so tonight should be a heapin’ load o’ fun fer everypony. Ah...” “Me? Shoot, cousin, I’m not worried ‘bout me,” Braeburn laughed, pulling away and meeting the mare’s lack of comprehension with a rueful grin. “After all, I’m always on my best behavior, so you can expect me to be as tame as a kitten tonight! I’m just worried about you, cousin.” Applejack’s jaw unhinged in pure disbelief as Braeburn placed a well-meaning hoof on her head like he would a filly and rustled her mane a bit before adopting a patronizing tone and dutifully giving the mare a quick instructional on the ins and outs of proper entertaining. “Now, I know your manners ain’t what they used to be, but can ya at least try t’ be polite? It just wouldn’t be proper to go dashin’ off every time somepony joins a conversation or other such nonsense.” He can’t seriously be lecturin’ me... can he? “Braeburn...” “Now, don’t go interruptin’ me, cous; that ain’t proper either,” Braeburn chided, beginning to pace as he continued. “It wouldn’t hurt you t’ be a little more social. It’s been quite some time since last I was home, and yet you’ve spent most of your time buckin’ trees! Now, I know there’s a lot of work to be done, what with it being harvest an’ all, but family is more important than a few more bushels of apples.” This from somepony who’s a few trees short of an orchard... “Braeburn, ah...” “Need t’ apologize, I understand, and I forgive you, Applejack. No hard feelings,” Braeburn graciously replied, shooting the mare a wink. “Now, I’d go on, but I can see the determination shinin’ in your eyes, so I’ll just head back and rest easy knowing that you’ll be on your best behavior.” Brimming with pride at a pony well-lectured, Braeburn sauntered off while Applejack looked on, her jaw set as tantalizing thoughts of cruelty not befitting a pony so well versed in the importance of harmony and friendship. Lifting her eyes to the heavens, an honest mare offered a sincere petition to the celestial powers that be, as much for herself as for everypony else. “Celestia, Luna, ah’m know ah’m not the most tame pony... Ah can get a little rough sometimes, an’ mostly it’s just fer sport, but if there’s any way y’all could lend me the strength to stay mah hoof from murder tonight, ah’d be right grateful.” Loathe though she was to extend any kind of credence to Braeburn’s babble, it was true she could likely use a thorough rinsing, so she loaded the last remaining baskets into a cart, hauled it back to the barn, and made straight for the solitude of a shower in her own home. Stepping into the stream long before it heated to a normal temperature, Applejack heaved a grateful sigh and let the refreshing cascade build to a soothingly heated downpour, washing away the dirt, sweat, and worries. Were Applejack not so deep in concentration, regulating her breathing and doing what she could for Applebloom’s sake to calm herself, she would likely have noticed the entrance of a concerned husband who simply stood in the doorway for a time and watched. Silver couldn’t help but flash a rueful smile as he trotted away, sifting through the fridge and pulling out the proper bottle. “It’s not what you’d like, but it’ll have to do, I suppose...” he murmured, uncorking the non-alcoholic brew and filling a chalice to the brim, levitating it onto the counter before trotting away. Often, it was the simpler acts of kindness that proved to be the more profound, and as Applejack begrudgingly shut off the flow and stepped out, she pulled back her ample mane to find Silver’s humble peace offering. For a few moments, the mare simply stared at the glass, an affectionate smile and defeated sigh forming the refrain for her cadence of submission as she let go of the last of her frustration and brought the treat to her lips, relishing the sweetness both of the drink and the brewer who had made it. “On behalf of mah family an’ the towns o’ Ponyville an’ Appleoosa, ah’d like t’ thank you fer savin’ a life tonight,” Applejack chuckled as she cantered into the livingroom, taking a seat next to Silver on the small sofa and laying on her side with her head upon the stallion’s lap. “Ah swear, every time that cousin o’ mine opens his mouth, ah feel like buckin’ trees with mah face would be a better way t’ spend mah time.” “That’s a little harsh, sweetheart,” Silver laughed quietly, bringing a hoof to the mare’s mane and draping the other loosely over her stomach, massaging gently as he did so. “It’ll be a wonder if anypony passes your test tonight; I’ve heard of some tough tests that mares have given inquisitive stallions back in Manehatten, but if Rumble can make it through this...“ “You’re right, sugarcube,” Applejack nodded, turning towards Silver and grinning. “If Rumble can make it through tonight, he’ll deserve a trophy, a heapin’ load o’ bits on top of a life time supply of apples, Applebloom’s hoof in marriage, an’ maybe some therapy.” “Maybe?” “Ok, definitely some therapy, an’ a good sugar coma t’ sleep off what the clinic can’t fix in the poor colt’s head.” “That’s more like it, sweetheart,” Silver murmured, giving her a tender squeeze. The light sifting in through the windows shifted from pale gold to a soft crimson as the two conversed in quiet tones, and after a tender kiss, they knew that it was time. “So,” Silver began as they neared the door, “what is Rumble going to get after tonight?” “If Applebloom has any sense at all, well...” Applejack chuckled, trotting a short distance ahead and stopping to gaze at the fading light sifting through the trees. “It ain’t somethin’ ah wanna hear becomin’ a habit for ‘em this young, but if ah’m t’ be fair an’ honest, ah’d say this kind o’ torment warrants at least a kiss.” As much as reliving the glory days when gathering juicy gossip netted fame and laughter from all but those featured on the front page, Applebloom didn’t find herself particularly interested in tormenting the pink unicorn currently burying her muzzle and glowing horn underneath her pillow with pesky questions about how and why she was so thoroughly disgruntled. It was clear that something had happened in the short space of time she and her friends had crowded into the closet, and Sweetie Belle’s insistence on full disclosure was met with silence, groans, muffled groans, and more silence. Peeking out the window, Applebloom noted the sun’s position and turned back to the bed where Sweetie Belle continued to gleefully exacerbate one discombobulated filly’s already lamentable position. “Sweetie Belle, ah’d leaver her alone if ah were you,” Applebloom warned, the very model of seriousness as she approached the other side of the bed and put a sympathetic hoof on Ruby’s back. “Ah think the universe has taken a shine t’ Discord’s manner o’ doin’ things, if mah cousin’s arrival means anythin’. Today’s been right crazy, an’ yer only gonna store up trouble for yerself pryin’ into things that ain’t yer business.” “Whatever, Applebloom. You sure are superstitious,” Sweetie Belle retorted, pouting a little as her mood began to revert back towards wrongful deprivation of romance. “Spike, we should probably... Spike?” Ruby peeked out a little as Sweetie Belle gave a short growl of frustration at the dragon’s unexplained absence. “Fine, then! I’ve had about enough today, anyways.” Marching off in a huff over not really much at all, Applebloom coaxed Ruby further out of hiding with a soft giggle. “Sweetie Belle’s gonna have t’ wind down soon, or poor Spike is gonna have himself a little meltdown. Rumble, do me a favor an’ whack me good if ah ever get that love crazy, would ya?” “Nuh uh!” he quipped, popping up on the otherside and grinning widely. “Applejack would stomp me into applesauce if I ever laid a hoof on you!” “An’ that’s if she’s feelin’ charitable!” Applebloom asserted, nodding sagely and waving a hoof in warning. “It just wouldn’t look right walking down the aisle with a jar full o’ Rumble juice on mah head, now would it?” It took the filly a few moments to comprehend the blank stare with which she was now being regarded by two ponies, and as each piped up in turn, Applebloom came to the conclusion that cluelessness was either deathly contagious or woefully genetic, and either way she was in it deep. “...aisle?” Rumble repeated in a dazed tone, somewhat startled that Applebloom’s mind had gone where his had, admittedly, wandered a time or two. Ruby, being the more sultry of her friends, tilted her head to the side with a lopsided grin and slowly repeated a different portion of Applebloom’s unprocessed remark. “‘Rumble juice?’” “It ain’t mah fault!” Applebloom cried, dropping behind the edge of the bed and covering her head. “Bein’ around Braeburn is makin’ mah words come out all funny, an’ dangit Ruby, ah didn’t mean anything like... like...” “What? I was just thinking about how much you like glue!” Ruby squealed, falling onto her back and laughing loud and long, inducing a fearful blush in both the other ponies present. Applebloom was slightly jealous at how Ruby could wrap innuendo within a pristine white box of innocence, neatly topped with a bow of good natured fun, and with a sigh Applebloom decided it was time to depart. “Ah see what you did there, Ruby. Yeesh, one special moment with Silver Spoon an’ yer gettin’ all pervy on me...” Applebloom muttered, causing a temporary lull in the filly’s torrent of giggles. That dammed her right up. Now ah’m especially curious... “Don’t worry, Ruby,” Applebloom said in a reassuring tone as she stood upright, still blushing faintly but stable enough to think straight. “Ah’m not gonna pester you about what happened, but if ya wanna talk about it ever, ah’m...” “She kissed me.” Ruby had to wonder if it was somehow wrong to glean tremendous satisfaction from the way the simple statement of fact left both of her friends dumbstruck and open mouthed. “It wasn’t anything major, just a little one on the cheek, but it really caught me off guard. I mean, from Silver Spoon? I didn’t see that coming, let me tell you! As far as I know, she doesn’t like being touched at all! Though, I’m starting to wonder a little now...” Not anythin’ major? Just thinkin’ ‘bout Rumble doin’ that makes mah heart beat a million miles a minute... If his mane is that soft, ah wonder how his lips... no, stop it, Bloom! “Ah... guess if somethin’ maybe happened between her and Diamond Tiara, that would explain why they ain’t hangin’ out anymore,” Applebloom pondered aloud, with Ruby nodding her agreement. “Applebloom, Rumble, can you both do me a favor and not tell anypony about this? Silver Spoon probably wouldn’t want anypony knowing about it, and I kind of told you without really thinking about it.” “Ah can imagine how gettin’ kissed might make it hard t’ think straight fer a while,” Applebloom agreed. “Don’t worry, me an’ Rumble won’t tell a soul. Right?” “Uh huh! Your secret is safe with us!” “Thanks, you two. Yikes, it’s getting dark already?” Ruby murmured, turning towards the window. “Time sure flies when you’re... well, whatever today was.” “Sorry, ah don’t feel like playin’ dictionary right now. Besides, the day ain’t over fer me an’ Rumble. Speakin’ o’ which, we’d best get goin’, Rumble,” Applebloom mentioned with a look of regret. “Ah think ah’d like a little time t’ rest before ‘family time’ starts.” Together they bid Ruby farewell and began the trek back towards Rumble’s house. At the colt’s suggestion, he flew ahead and informed Thunderlane to just head over to Sweet Apple Acres when he and the girls were finished getting ready, noting that Flitter was still being held captive by her mane and would likely not be removed from her place before the mirror until every last strand was in its perfect place; the mare had a soft spot for vanity. Applebloom heaved a yawn as Rumble returned, fortunately without any new wounds from his flight, albeit a brief one, and gratefully marched back towards home. “Well, howdy there, sis. You look plumb tuckered out,” Applejack chuckled as the filly and her colt friend approached. “The rest comin’ along later, ah take it?” “Yeah, that’s right. Sis, if it’s all right with you, can ah head t’ mah room an’ rest fer a bit? Ah’m not tryin’ t’ be rude t’ Braeburn none, honest ah’m not, but ah just...” “No need t’ explain, sugarcube. Ah know exactly what ya mean,” Applejack chuckled. “Run along inside, then. Ah’ll come get ya when the rest o’ the guests are here.” Accepting her sister’s warm embrace and whispered thanks, Applejack nodded her understanding motioned towards the house, whereupon Applebloom led Rumble inside. Having no desire to draw attention to themselves and thereby guarantee an enthusiastic and likely time consuming greeting from Braeburn, Applebloom motioned for Rumble to be as quiet as possible, and together they skulked over to her room and heaved a sigh of relief as soundproofed walls offered glorious solace. Rumble felt not even the slightest hesitation at being inside the filly’s room, in part because they’d spend a fair amount of time in his and neither of their minds were so jam-packed with romance that something so simple would give either of them pause, and they were both soon gratefully laying back, side by side and staring up at the ceiling. “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it,” Applebloom murmured, letting her tired eyes rest as fatigue came over her like a gentle wave lapping at the sandy shore. “Uh huh...” Rumble agreed, covering his mouth as a cavernous yawn relaxed his body and mind, removing any interest in moving from his current position. Like the warmth of a family made quilt, quietude descended upon them, each sitting with their own thoughts. Rumble couldn’t deny his excitement for the promised trip to Canterlot, but the “main” attraction of the races was just icing on the cake. I hope it isn’t too soon, but I’d really like this trip to be our first date. I guess I’d have to ask her to go out with me, though. While the signs of interest were obvious, they had danced around the subject by finding ways to rationalize how their actions still fell under the category of friendship, but to ask the question was to shine the spotlight on the feelings they both had come to accept without ever actually confronting. Everything would change. It’s been right around a week now since ah met Rumble. Ah never even thought about romance or anythin’ until he came crashin’ into mah life, but now... ah can’t imagine life without ‘im. Ah hardly know ‘im, an’ ah’m sure there are things he ain’t told me, but... ah hope he asks me soon, ‘cause ah can’t well say we’re “just friends” without it feelin’ like a lie... I wonder if she’d be happy if I asked her now? But... don’t most girls like it to be romantic and stuff? Wait... heehee, what am I thinking... Applebloom didn’t notice the vibrations in the bed as Rumble laughed silently at his glaringly obvious blunder in likening Applebloom to other fillies. Applebloom is Applebloom. There isn’t a comparison to make, because she’s the only girl I know that talks to boats. I’m sure I’ll know the moment when it happens. A sound, gentle as a raindrop falling into a tranquil pond, caused just enough of a ripple to garner the colt’s attention, bidding him turn towards the source: a filly singing the sonnet of sleep. Her still form, her quiet snores, the gentle rise and fall of her chest to match the rhythm of her heart: to embrace such beauty, Rumble knew, would be far too forward, so he contented himself with a simple touch, scooting a little closer and gently laying his hoof over hers, watching in reverent awe as a smile slowly spread across her muzzle. It pained him to let such a sight fade from his vision, but the allure of rest proved too great for leaden eyelids to resist, and as one snore became two, so also did a second smile spread as a young pegasus was whisked away to the land of dreams. “Flitter’s still messing with her mane, huh?” Thunderlane grunted a little as Cloudchaser excitedly hopped over the back of the couch and flopped onto his lap with all the grace of a cannonball. While he didn’t often choose to shine the spotlight on some of the mare’s more foal-like habits for the sake of her pride, it was these things that balanced out the brash, outgoing mare now curled against his chest with both hooves wrapped around his neck and giggling like a filly expectantly awaiting the arrival of the mythical present pony that came on Hearth’s Warming Eve. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask... are you gonna let me drink tonight? Or do are you gonna make a cute mare like me stay sober?” “The better question is if you’ll be able to behave yourself. I’d really rather not have a repeat of our last tavern visit,” Thunderlane replied, snorting with amusement as Cloudchaser drew away to have herself a good pout. “You know I know my limits now. Sheesh, try to do your coltfriend in public a time or two, and you never hear the end of it...” Cloudchaser muttered, folding her hooves across her chest and sniffing indignantly. Indifference became hard to maintain as Thunderlane gently pressed his lips to the nape of the mare’s neck, and she readily made way for his hooves as they slid around her waist. “Remember how I heard that Applejack can spot a lie?” The mare nodded, snuggling a little closer. “It wouldn’t be very honest of us to behave perfectly, now would it?” “Wait, so you mean...” Cloudchaser started, nearly squealing with excitement as she whirled to face Thunderlane. A mischievous grin that demanded immediate kissing confirmed her suspicions far before the words actually came out, but the moment was anything but tender as the mare started laughing even before she pulled away. “I knew I loved you for a reason. Let’s get... oh, right... hurry up, Flitter! I’m thirsty! I can almost taste the cider... This is going to be the best night ever!” “O-ok, I’m almost done!” the mare called out. Righting himself, Thunderlane watched with cultured affection as Cloudchaser danced around the room, singing about the wonders of ethanol and already acting quite inebriated. “Hey, Cloudchaser? I’m all for you letting loose a little, but if we could try to keep the innuendo to a minimum, that’d be...” “Yeah, yeah, no orgies,” the mare interjected, idly waving a hoof and stopping cold a few seconds later as she realized that was exactly the kind of statement Thunderlane was seeking to forestall. “My bad. I’ll tone it down... but just a little! An old-fashioned mare like Applejack has got to be fun to tease.” “You do realize the whole point of this is to build bridges, not torch the fields, right?” Thunderlane reminded the mare with an annoying bout of seriousness. “If Rumble really has his heart set on Applebloom, then someday these ponies are going to be family. I’m all for having a little fun with them, but try not to overdo it, ok?” “Geez, Thunderlane, give me a little more credit...” Cloudchaser muttered, sullenly turning away. “I’m not that oblivious... unlike you.” Two years had not a perfect stallion made, though his fillyfriend’s reaction made it quite clear to him what he’d missed, and Cloudchaser reluctantly made eye contact as Thunderlane presented himself in honest apology for his oversight. “I’m sorry, Cloudchaser. I wasn’t being fair, and forgive me for being too dense to realize the obvious; you’re nervous, aren’t you?” “Took you long enough...” she murmured, letting slip a sigh as she again allowed herself to be held, letting go of her frustrations slowly as she brought a hoof to the stallion’s mane and tussled the silken hair. “I’ll be good. Wild as I can be without totally wrecking the place,” she added, laughing softly, “but I wouldn’t want to ruin anything for Rumble. He’s a good little bro...” “I’m sure you’ll do just fine, Cloudchaser,” Thunderlane assured her, strengthening his hold and smiling as the mare’s shoulders relaxed, soothed by his vote of confidence. “I’m ready!” At the sound of the fierce declaration brimming with confidence and still somehow managing to be overtly feminine, all eyes turned towards Flitter as she sauntered out of the bathroom with her head held high. “Sorry that took so long. I had this one strand of hair that just wouldn’t go where it was supposed to, but don’t worry, I finally got it to listen with a little love and a lot of brushing!” “I’m going to need to pick up more of that mousse you use, aren’t I?” “...well, yeah. I did kind of use the rest of it.” “What? There was, like, half the bottle left last time I looked!” “I couldn’t possibly meet Applebloom’s family with a messy mane! I just had to make sure it was perfect... and it’s not my fault it was being stubborn!” “Your mane isn’t the only one being stubborn...” Cloudchaser muttered as Flitter took her place alongside Thunderlane. “Maybe you should try talking to that frilly unicorn with the purple mane. She’s probably been held hostage by her mane, too.” “Hmph! You’re just jealous,” Flitter replied, much too dignified to stoop to her sister’s level and stick her tongue out in turn. “Girls, you’re both pretty. No need to fight over me.” Somehow, sticking himself in the spotlight always resulted in a proverbial barrage of tomatoes, but it did serve to unify the bickering siblings more often than not, so Thunderlane counted himself quite the clever stallion as both sisters gave him the stare. “Yeah, I think we can both agree that’s not what’s going on, right, sis?” Cloudchaser said in a droll tone, shooting the prissy mare a wink. “Right! Now then, let’s go see Applebloom! I bet her and Rumble are being adorable again...” Flitter tittered, her previous agitation forgotten as the trio laughed and chatted, making their way through town and towards the farm. While both mares became distracted by this leaf, that apple, and the other passing attraction, the stallion in between found himself more taken by his companions than the wonders of an orchard at dusk. It hadn’t been instantaneous by any means, but time, experiences both wondrous and painful, and the memories that came with them had crafted within his heart an equal appreciation for each mare, their quirks, faults, and differences. A warmth akin to nostalgia but slightly more amorous well within his chest as his rumination drew to a close, and Cloudchaser tore her gluttonous eyes from the fruit laden branches in time to notice. “Awww, look who’s getting all sappy,” she whispered, her voice pleasantly soft. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t make you any less awesome. Not unless you do it all the time, anyways.” “Thanks, that’s very comforting, Cloudchaser,” Thunderlane chuckled, nodding once. “I hope you cooked up some fun in that dastardly mind of yours, because here... we... go.” “Huh? What’re you...” Cloudchaser started, her question being answered as a cordial voice with a notable drawl welcome the trio to the family. “Howdy, everypony! Welcome t’ Sweet Apple Acres,” Applejack called out, beckoning her stallion to follow as she trotted over to meet them halfway. “Ah’m Applejack, as you may have heard, an’ this is mah husband, Silver Moonshine - best brewer in Ponyville.” “Sweet talkin’ already, sweetheart?” Silver laughed quietly, shaking his head. “I still have a ways to go before I measure up to my father, but I do my best. In fact, I think I recognize you three from the tavern...” Flitter looked at Cloudchaser, Cloudchaser smirked and looked at Thunderlane, and Thunderlane looked like he could use a drink, judging by the way he slapped a hoof over his eyes. “Thunderlane, you and your mares have a lot farther to go before you top some of the things I witnessed back in Manehatten. Ah, nostalgia...” “Ah don’t think ah’ve heard that one, but ah reckon it ain’t proper table talk,” Applejack laughed, mostly to keep herself from trying to imagine what was worse than attempted public copulation, aside from successful public... copulation. “Anyways...” Applejack began, shuddering a little, “why don’t y’all introduce yerselves?” “Well, it seems like you both know about me already, but I’m Thunderlane,” the dark coated stallion said with a grin. “These two lovely mares are my fillyfriends, Cloudchaser and her sister, Flitter.” Having been warned that such a different lifestyle may be frowned upon by such a traditional family, the trio tensed and readied themselves to make a defense, but the only thing they shared a moment later was abject confusion as Applejack hurled not accusation nor sneered in distaste, but actually leaned against Silver for support as she was taken by a fit of laughter. “Ah knew you were datin’ two mares, but sisters? Yer bravery is playin’ on the teeter totter with insanity, Thunderlane!” Applejack declared, wiping moisture from her eyes. “In all honesty, ah’m not sure which would be harder t’ make work, strangers or siblings, as both would come with a whole slew o’ problems, ah’m sure. Y’all seem happy enough t’ me, an’ ah’ll tell ya right now, this little triangle strikes me as right strange, but ah only have one question for ya, Thunderlane; Do you love these mares? Or are ya just indecisive?” “I can appreciate your honesty, Applejack,” Thunderlane replied without hesitation. “You’re right. There were a lot of problems in the beginning, and there were times when I was afraid I’d never find a way to make it work, but... these two mares mean the world to me. We give, we take, we fight, we come back together, but if there is one thing that I can stake my name to, it’s my love for them, and theirs for me.” The Element of Honesty looked from face to face, smiling as the stallion’s confident words were back by a sense of unity she couldn’t quite understand, but found comforting and praiseworthy all the same. Applebloom, you were right about them. It still seems a bit funny t’ me, but they seem like good folk. “What can ah possibly say t’ that? Welcome t’ Sweet Apple Acres, you three. Yer as welcome as any member o’ the family. Well, most of ‘em,” Applejack followed up with a smirk. “Don’t worry, y’all will see what I’m talkin’ about pretty quick once we get inside. Come on, everypony! Time fer the Apple family t’ show a little old fashioned hospitality: wholesome chow, good company, and plenty o’ drink t’ keep things lively!” “Ah yeah! Time to get my party on!” Cloudchaser exclaimed, leaping into the air as she threw up both hooves in eager anticipation of inebriation. “Mah brother an’ his wife are dyin’ t’ meet you three, so y’all go on ahead an make yerselves at home, now. Ah have a few things ah need t’ speak t’ Silver about.” Cloudchaser needed no second bidding, the mare’s energy output set to max as a pleasant deterrent from the anxiety of needing to impress them all for Rumble’s sake, though the warm welcome they’d received was far beyond what the trio was expecting, slicing away a generous portion of her nervousness and feeding it to good will who summarily devoured the offering. The mare really couldn’t have known better than to abuse the power of the “P” word, and as Applejack began to propose a few limitations on how much alcohol was to be served so as to keep licentious advances and table top dancing to a minimum, a familiar voice rang out from within a nearby tree, startling them both. “Did somepony say ‘party?!?’” “Gah! Pinkie?” Applejack shouted, jumping a full pony length back as the bubbly mare popped her head out of a most accommodating red delicious tree, giggling profusely for a moment before disappearing from sight. In a matter of seconds, she reappeared beside her pregnant friend with her prized party creation kit loaded and ready. “How you manage t’ get a cannon into and out of a tree without makin’ a sound is just plain frightenin’, Pinkie,” Applejack muttered, eyeing the infamous party cannon with a wary eye. “Well, duh!” Pinkie chortled, prancing around the simple-minded mare. “I obviously hid it there this afternoon because I saw everypony rush towards Sweet Apple Acres earlier this morning, and when a group of ponies go rushing off it’s ‘cause there’s either a party or trouble. Well, I didn’t hear any explosions, so I just knew there had to be a party tonight! Oh, and you must have forgotten my invitation, but that’s ok because I’m here now!” “Ah can see why you’d think that, ah guess, but there’s no party, Pinkie.” With her hoof poised over the automatic fun button of a loaded, possibly incendiary device, the excitement inherent in the mare’s every action fled as her hopes were left unfulfilled. “But... but... no party?” “Nope, just dinner,” Applejack repeated with a rueful smile. Her heart went out to the mare who hadn’t been her usual excitable self as of late, a feeling compounded by the most peculiar accusation that followed and the tinge of desperation it contained. “I... you wilted my party cannon!” Pinkie cried, cradling her limp cannon in her hooves. Setting aside the impossibility of a cannon, generally accepted to be a solid object, spontaneously melting, Applejack took one look at the visibly drooping barrel before caving for the sake of her own sanity. “All right, all right! Ah guess a few streamers couldn’t hurt...” “Woohoo!” Levitating by the magic of sugar, and quite possibly frightening attunement with the long-lost Element of Lunacy, Pinkie Pie coaxed new life into her party cannon and dashed inside, causing an immediate lull in the conversation as she slammed her weapon of choice onto the ground, raised a hoof, and declared party time a go. “Hey, anypony know what time it is?” Flitter immediately glanced at a clock and was about to answer before Pinkie Pie dropped her voice and octave and responded in turn, shifting back and forth. “Oh, I do, pick me! Pick me! Okie doki lokie! Pinkie Pie, I choose you! Well...” she continued with a gleam in her eye, throwing back her head and sharing her elation with a bang. “It’s half past party time!” There followed a quiet noise, like the click of flipping a light switch on and off, and then another sound, like the blast like many fireworks erupting in harmony as Pinkie Pie’s admittedly overstuffed cannon sent confetti, balloons, and streamers bursting from every exit, ripping the front door from its hinges and flooding the air with a spectacular array of color. Outside, Applejack sat down hard and paid the streamer draped across her nose little attention as the fallacy of attempting to comprehend Pinkie Pie once again challenged her logical mind, though it was watching Gummy fall with a thud a few feet away, lay dazed for a moment, and then waddle off like nothing happened that really tipped the scales. “She really outdid herself this time,” Silver commented cheerfully, watching as streamers drifted on the wind and delicately fell to the ground. “You and your friends really need to throw more parties. If she waits this long again, there probably won’t even be a house next time.” The scholarly nature of her husband’s musings was lost on Applejack as she gaped at the scene, petrified in utter disbelief, and at her silence, Silver turned and stumbled upon one last realization before Pinkie, satisfied with a house well partied, pranced out amidst much happy humming. “I really need to figure out how to make a brew for pregnant mares.” “No, ya need t’ find some sedatives t’ keep Ponyville intact. Pinkie, how is what you just did even possible?!?” Applejack exclaimed, standing upright. “You just dang near blew mah house t’ pieces!” “How? Huh, I never really thought about putting it into words...” Pinkie murmured, her eyes narrowing in deep concentration. “Ok! Let’s start with the fiddlesticks!” Pinkie quipped, beginning to scratch some figures Applejack didn’t even recognize into the dirt; they certainly weren’t numbers, and one of them had a face. “Ya mean ‘physics? An’ what is...” “Yeah yeah, fizzicks, right! Now, pay attention! If “smile” represents the number of objects I want to fire, while ‘pie’ represents the speed at which I want the tables to be set, then we’d have to factor in...” Her voice seemed to accelerate with the quantity of hieroglyphics and digits that soon became scrawled into the ground, and just when Applejack thought it to be over, the mare reached wide and drew a huge division line and began anew beneath. “Enough! No more o’ yer fancy mathematics! Ah’m sorry ah asked!” Applejack wailed, clutching her head with both hooves. “Oki doki lokie!” Pinkie agreed with oblivious nonchalance. “Enjoy the party! I’m off to find my party cannon! Hey! Wait up, Gummy!” Quickly catching up to her toothless companion, Pinkie disappeared amongst the trees while Winona came dashing over with her tail between her legs, shaking and needing a little love to calm down after having woken airborne upon a bed of balloons. “Yeah, ah feel about the same,” Applejack murmured as her faithful pup whined about her foray into flight and the rather unpleasant landing that followed. “Don’t worry none, Winona. Ah think that’s gonna be the worst of it... Come on, Silver. Let’s head back inside and assess the damage...” “Flitter, you can come out now. That psychotic mare with the cannon is gone...” Unfortunately, it was going to take a little bit more than Thunderlane’s dulcet tones to lure a very frightened Flitter out from the spacious closet she had commandeered upon the opening of hostilities, and she was quite content to spend the next hour fussing over the confetti in her mane and, to a lesser extent, her mouth. “Oh, let her sulk and come have fun, Thunderlane,” Cloudchaser urged, taking a moment to cease racing around the room and bucking every balloon that came within hoof range. “She’ll be fine in a few minutes.” “I will not!” Flitter shouted back, her voice muffled and on the verge of tears. “Do you have any idea how long I spent on my mane? And now it’s got confetti all in it, and... and...” Cracking open the door, Thunderlane took one look at the mare’s tear-streaked face and knew that Cloudchaser’s invitation to liven things up would have to wait, and with a few soft words, the stallion gently closed the door behind him and was about to continue his whispered encouragement when a trio of knocks and a sensuous voice from outside caused a temporary lull in the sniffles. “While I can appreciate such a romantic nature, I must warn you that you are currently occupying one of the few places in the house that is not sound-proofed. By all means, continue, but do exercise a little restraint?” Thunderlane and Flitter both stared blankly at the door for a moment before turning back to each other and laughing quietly. “Now, Crimson, that ain’t fair t’ suspect that o’ the newcomers,” another voice followed up with a deep baritone chuckle. “What’d ah tell you about bein’ good tonight, anyhow? Let’s leave ‘em be. Besides, now that everypony is here, we’d best get Applebloom. Oh, an’ welcome t’ Sweet Apple Acres, you two.” Having been summoned by the invasion of many colors and a choking amount of confetti, Big Macintosh and Crimson paused to get acquainted with Cloudchaser, and soon the two mares were swapping stories that couldn’t well be mentioned within the presence of younger ponies. Big Macintosh simply shrugged in acceptance, at least until Applejack and Silver came in, and Crimson dutifully shifted subjects as her sister-in-law trotted over. “So, Braeburn ain’t talkin’ everypony’s ears off yet, huh? That’s right surprisin’... Oh, Big Mac, you ain’t seen Granny Smith anyplace, ‘ave ya?” “Nnnope.” “Ponyfeathers. Oh well, she’ll show up when she’s good an’ ready. Applebloom still upstairs?” “Eeyup. Ah was just on mah way t’ go get her.” “Ok, ah’ll try to find Granny Smith and Braeburn so we can get these ponies fed. Clean up can wait until later, ah reckon.” “Eeyup!” Breaking away from a most pleasant discussion on the wonders of a stallion flooded with good brew, Crimson excused herself and followed Big Macintosh towards Applebloom’s room, staying his hoof as he reached for the door and garnering a questioning look from the stallion. “Just trust me,” Crimson whispered, garnering a knowing grin. Taking great pains to make as little noise as possible, the mare pressed the handle and gently nudged the door open, finding exactly what she had expected. Hoof in hoof, the pair lay sleeping soundly, and both ponies crept over to the bed, simultaneously appreciating the tender moment of innocence and feeling guilty that they would have to end it. “That right there is what you taught me,” Crimson murmured, pressing closer to her tower of refuge. “Eeyup...” Stilled by the serenity, the couple simply sat in silent remembrance for a time before duty compelled Big Mac to reach out and stir Applebloom into wakefulness. Blinking sleepily, the filly stared back at Big Mac through bleary eyes for a few seconds as the lights slowly came on. “Hungry, Applebloom?” “Nnngh... brother, ah think ah could eat the orchard, the way ah’m feelin’,” Applebloom replied, yawning fitfully and realizing that she was holding hooves in full view of another, and her sibling at that. Rumble came to as his hooves were hastily abandoned, but waking to Applebloom’s blushing face and hesitant glances wasn’t half bad, either. “...it’s dinner time, ah think.” “Uh huh,” Rumble mumbled, glancing over at their two pony audience. “More family?” “Oh, that’s just mah brother an’ ‘is kinky wife,” Applebloom replied, dismissing the subject with a wave of her hoof before sliding off the bed and landing in a heap. Dang, just how deep a sleep was ah in? Ah feel like it’s been years since ah last woke up... Applebloom glanced over at her clock and froze. It’s already been an hour? But ah just closed mah eyes! There ain’t no way ah got so comfortable that ah... Rumble poked his head over the edge and grinned down at the groggy filly, himself entirely awake and ready to play. That colt cheats, ah swear. “Lemme guess, you feel fine?” “Uh huh!” “An’ now yer all rarin’ t’ go.” “Uh huh.” “No chance ah can just lay here fer another hour?” “Nuh uh!” “Slavedriver...” Applebloom chuckled, reaching up suddenly and yanking the colt’s forelegs, granting her a little more time to rest as they both lay laughing on the floor. Crimson could hardly contain herself from commenting, but she’d given her word that she’d behave. Big Macintosh acknowledged her efforts to bind her sensuous tongue and very quickly gave it a break, but wasn’t quite fast enough to escape being caught. “Brother, ah told you this mornin’ there’d be none of that!” “Eeyup. Sorry, Applebloom.” “Ah bet Thunderlane ain’t down there gettin’ all kissy with ‘is mares, now is he?” “Actually, he may very well be up to more, but he’s doing a tremendous job at keeping quiet,” Crimson teased, stifling her laughter with a hoof over her mouth. “Sorry, last one! Thunderlane is in the closet with Flitter, but she looked pretty upset.” “No need to worry, Applebloom,” Rumble asserted as the group began heading downstairs. “I’m sure Thunderlane is just trying to cheer her up. She can be a little high-maintenance sometimes.” Reassured and feeling the effects of the best nap she’d ever had, Applebloom felt her spirits soar as she cantered into a world of laughter, balloons, and... found her cousin laying down the moves on a taken mare. “Dear Celestia, is he really...” Bowing before Cloudchaser in absolute awe with every intent to woo? “Might I ask your name, lovely lady?” Yes. Yes he was. Cloudchaser didn’t need Big Mac’s encouraging nod or the winking eye of the devious mare beside him to spur her on as she dropped into an aggressive stance as if to pounce and laid down a few moves of her own. Braeburn wasn’t ready. “Are you kidding? A fine stallion like yourself? You can call me anything you want, cutie,” Cloudchaser shot back, brushing against his cheek and flicking her tail in a most provocative manner as she toured her prey, walking a slow circle around the bewildered stallion. I wonder if I’m taking this too far? Crimson’s laughing, Big Mac is... immovable, which seems to be normal. And hey, Applebloom is face-hoofing like she always does, so I’m right on track! “With such toned physique, you must get a lot of attention back home.” “Actually, uh... miss? I don’t really have many dealings with mares...” “Really? Well, I’m curious to know what they’re missing. Those apples look delicious... oh, I could just eat you up.” Applejack had returned from her unsuccessful search in time to witness a most stunning scene unfold; Braeburn was actually struck speechless. So unaccustomed to dealing with mares in anything other than passing that such openly sensual treatment boggled his mind in a most pleasant manner, but it soon became apparent to Cloudchaser and everypony else exactly why they’re admittedly fair cousin remained single. He was bucking clueless. “I wouldn’t recommend that. In addition to bein’ right painful for me, and I know such a nice little lady wouldn’t dream o’ hurtin’ anypony, I imagine I’d taste right awful! Ponies don’t eat other critters.” “Uh... I meant...” “Oh, I get it! You must be hungry! Even a pretty thing like you has to eat, I wager. I don’t know a single pony that doesn’t! In fact, back in Appleoosa there’s this one mare...” Cloudchaser heaved a defeated sigh and decided to bide her time for another opportunity to try again. Patiently she waited for the end of the story, something which was bound to take quite some time, and the group filtered in and took their seats, eager to see who would emerge triumphant; the numbskull or the troll. Meanwhile, in the relative comfort of a spacious hall closet, Thunderlane patiently waited for the tides to dry, listening as Flitter fretted about this and that, but after an indeterminate amount of time, Thunderlane knew they needed to be going lest suspicions arise that comfort had exceeded acceptable boundaries. As the mare continued stroking her mane in a fruitless attempt to preserve its shape while removing the colorful dander, she graciously accepted an offered hoof to help, relaxing a little as Thunderlane began stroking her mane. A learned stallion, he looked at the mare’s composure, noted that it was made of glass, and promptly introduced it to a sizable rock hurtling at high speeds. With a sudden burst of vigor, a second hoof joined in, and it was soon raining confetti as he utterly destroyed any semblance of style the quiet mare may have once had. Phase one is done, now for part two. “I... you... m-my mane...” Flitter stammered, her voice wavering as a fresh flood readied to spill. Thunderlane had been entirely expecting this, and moving swiftly but with great care, he slid one hoof behind her neck and another upon her cheek, soothing the mare with his confident, amorous gaze. “You still look beautiful to me, Flitter.” Petty worry and minor frustration fled in the face of the rush of passion that established its tyrannical totalitarian regime within the simple mare’s heart as Thunderlane pulled her into a single deep, heartfelt kiss. “Just one” was not sufficient for the horrors endured, however, and thus Thunderlane accepted the mare’s enthusiastic reciprocation while taking comfort in the fact that Flitter would never dare to escalate things in such a setting. At least, not without Cloudchaser to urge her on, which became a definite possibility as Thunderlane lay back to enjoy a little relaxation and found his head firmly nestled in somepony’s lap. “What the...” he murmured, pulling away from Flitter a moment. “Cloudchaser, how’d you get in...” It wasn’t Cloudchaser. It wasn’t even a pony he could find marginally attractive, which was likely better for him in the long run, but there was something absolutely horrifying to both himself and Flitter to realized that some, if not all, of their passionate display was witnessed by the resident matriarch, currently grinning down at the stallion without a care in the world. “Eh, what’s that nonsense yer spoutin’? I ain’t chased clouds fer years!” Cloudchaser was beginning to wear down, but two shouts, one of a mare and one of a stallion, shook the house to the foundations as Thunderlane and Flitter burst from the closet, cheeks aflame and wings raised. While quite the pleasant break from Braeburn’s long-winded story, Cloudchaser took one look at Flitter’s disastrous mane and adopted a dire look of disapproval that Thunderlane couldn’t well misconstrue before stomping over and regarding the stallion with her best pouty face. “Oh, please tell me this ain’t real...” Rumble whispered, unable to tear his gaze away as Thunderlane strategically positioned himself behind the mare so as to hide the glaringly obvious and quite incriminating evidence of his assumed debauchery. Wings out, the mare’s mane looks like it was put through a tornado, an’... poor Rumble. “It ain’t so bad, Rumble. Ah’ve caught mah brother in worse...” Applebloom offered as Braeburn grew leery of the stallion currently engaged in a heated, though hushed, conversation with Thunderlane. “You are so busted, Thunderlane! I can’t believe you didn’t invite me!” Cloudchaser whined, herself considering a little affection to be a much better use of her time than continuing to engage Braeburn in "conversation." “We weren’t doing anything!” Pouting gave way to half-lidded stare, and Thunderlane sighed before rewording his denial a little more accurately. “Ok, well, we were making out, but still! That’s well within the rules.” “You could have at least offered. While you and Flitter were having some fun time, I was out here dealing with...” “Pardon me, miss, but is that feller givin’ you trouble?” Braeburn asked, trotting over and standing stalwart beside the mare. “It ain’t proper to hurt a girl’s feelings. Now, I don’t know who ya are or what you were doin’ in the closet, but ah think it’s best if you just leave now.” Cloudchaser smiled. Thunderlane knew of the smile, and cringed, for it was no ordinary grin, but a subtle reminder that breaches in triangular etiquette would not go unpunished. “Braeburn, this is Thunderlane... my coltfriend.” “Wait... you mean...” Braeburn stammered in righteous indignation. “You mean t’ tell me that this lowlife gettin’ frisky in my old family home with some other mare is your coltfriend? You aren’t even deserving t’ be called by name, cheatin’ on such a beautiful an’ charming pegasus. Well, what’ve you got t’ say fer yerself?” “Um, sis? What’s going on?” Flitter asked, her bafflement soaring to new heights as Cloudchaser leapt into the air in gleeful anticipation as Braeburn’s expression shifted from disdainful to downright horrified. “You’re her sister? You’re gettin’ pervy with Cloudchaser’s sister? Now, I’m not the violent sort, but I’m not going to stand for this kind o’ ill-mannered treatment. Prepare for fisticuffs!” The simple stallion’s belief that his indignation could grow no further was falsified as the living room erupted into laughter. “What in tarnation is wrong with y’all? You should be takin’ pity on the poor mare, not actin’ like it’s all some kind o’ joke!” “Cousin, there’s somethin’ ah need... need t’ tell ya!” Applejack chortled, trotting over and guiding Braeburn’s eyes over to where Cloudchaser was currently making up with Thunderlane with some playful nuzzles, a heaping load of jibes, and a good smooch. “Cloudchaser an’ Flitter are both datin’ Thunderlane. Sorry, sugarcube, they’re both quite taken.” “Both? But... I don’t understand that one bit, cousin,” Braeburn said, shaking his head. “Oh, times have changed, but it used to be more common, doncha know!” Time as a whole stopped as Granny Smith casually stepped out of the closet, looking around at a room full of brain-dead ponies whose minds were all being filled with varying levels of harrowing assumptions loosely supported by two facts: Thunderlane and Flitter were doing something in the closet, and Granny Smith had just walked out. Nothing good came to mind. “No use standin’ around lookin’ like statues! Let’s get to eatin’! Oh! Love the decorations, Applebloom!” Chuckling as she swiped at a nearby balloon, the mare proceeded into the kitchen while Crimson, tormented at not being able to join the fun, suffered a lapse of self-control and fell back upon old habits. “So, Thunderlane, did you find the closet to be enjoyable?” Crimson tittered, coyly covering her muzzle with a hoof while adopting a leer Applejack still had trouble tolerating. “I must say that you chose the proper one for such... activities: plenty of space to move around. Why, we discovered that just this morning, didn’t we, dear?” “...eeyup,” Big Mac said quietly, shifting uncomfortably as Applejack’s eye began to twitch and Applebloom firmly planted her face to the floor, letting out a muffled sob. “Oh, come on, Applejack. Applebloom was at school an’ Crimson was bein’ real sweet.” Eeyup. She’s mad. Ain’t no goin’ back now. “Don’t act like you an’ Silver ain’t done anythin’ strange.” “What ah do with Silver is mah own business, not that of everypony else! Besides, ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little experimentation...” “Sis, really? Ah just woke up an’ yer already talkin’ bout that sort o’ thing? Ah swear, it’s like the only thing on everyponies mind today!” Bombarded by loosely veiled sensuality from all directions, Applebloom took it upon herself to preserve her integrity and fled the room, tearing out the front door and leaving everypony slightly ashamed of themselves as the distraught filly shook her hoof at the evening sky. “Discord, you cursed mah house with yer dirty shenanigans, an’ ah swear t’ Celestia an’ Luna both that the next time ah see yer twisted face, yer gonna meet the business end o’ mah mallet!” “She’s right, brother,” Applejack conceded, shaking her head at breaching her own rules. “I’ll go calm her down so we can sit down fer supper. Goodness knows we could use our mouths for somethin’ other than talkin’.” In all fairness, it was a laudable step in the right direction that Crimson contained her giggles until Applejack had left, and from inside the kitchen Granny Smith chuckled quietly to herself about the excitement of the youngsters gathered under her roof while she went about setting the table. “Oh, it might be painful now, but someday, they’ll all look back on this an’ smile. Even our little Applebloom...” she murmured, carefully setting the table and laying out the spread. “A little blushin’ ain’t ever hurt nopony. Does ‘em good t’ get all riled up. Wish I could remember why I went in that closet, though. Made fer a good nap, but it just ain’t as refreshin’ as my rocker.” Having had her moment of sentimentality, the mare continued her work while rabbit trails and tangents led her mind astray as the elderly are prone to do, and after a five minute discussion with the salad bowl, she realized dinner was ready and called everypony in, welcoming the guests and getting acquainted while Applejack convinced Applebloom with much commiseration to follow her back inside, assuring her that with everypony eating, things were liable to at least stay on the fringe of tolerable. Hopefully. One by one they all filed in, with the exception of Braeburn who was taking a little bit longer than expected to recover from having his mind stretched a million directions at once, and the meal started with gusto. Applebloom wasn’t feeling particularly ravenous on account of the likelihood of having to flee, an uncomfortable activity when filled to the brim with farm fare, and Rumble noticed the meager portion she allotted to herself with a rueful grin. Finishing a mouthful of vegetable casserole with the most amazing crumble top he’d ever had, the young colt wracked his brains to find a way to help Applebloom to see that, all things considered, the even really wasn’t going that poorly. We didn’t eat lunch today, so I know she has to be hungry, so why isn’t she eating? Maybe she just needs a little nudge. Applebloom blinked out of a daze as a corn muffin held aloft by a gray hoof appeared before her muzzle. “...muffin?” Rumble offered quietly, peeking around the simple baked good and grinning as he coaxed a reluctant smile out of the filly. “Would ya believe me if ah said ah wasn’t hungry?” Applebloom murmured half-heartedly, closing her eyes as she became unable to stop her smile from growing a little more. “Nuh uh...” “Ah guess... ah’m gonna have t’ eat it, aren’t ah?” “Uh huh.” “Ah don’t feel like movin’, though...” What’s that look he’s givin’ me? Dang near looks like he’s just watched me shower or somethin’, the way he’s blushin’. Ah hope his mind ain’t been tainted by all the... the... A warm, fresh from the oven muffin gently pressed against Applebloom’s lips, forbidding further speech and negating any worries Applebloom may have had that Rumble would act as anything less than the charming buffoon that he was, and for just a moment, Applebloom had an isolated moment of precious affection as she took a tentative bite, her hoof folding over Rumble’s for just a moment as she accepted the gift and all the overpowering sentiment wafting out with the steam. "Ah, look at those rosy cheeks. Isn’t that precious?” Granny Smith quipped, looking up from her soup with a grand smile. Sorry, Granny Smith. Rumble is bein’ way too sweet fer anythin’ you say t’ make me upset. Were the filly a little older and a little wiser, she would have known never to underestimate the power senility. “Our little Apple is finally bloomin'! Now, Rumble, we already have one grand baby on the way, so no need to rush, alright?" Large though the table was, it quivered under the tumultuous force of Applebloom’s headbutt, the physical pain not even registering as social trauma promised to only dig Applebloom deeper. "G-Granny Smith!” Applejack sputtered, horrified at the matriarch’s coarse humor and frantically begging Applebloom’s patience as the filly contented herself to continue her assessment of the table as a pillow. “Ah can't believe you'd..." she started, before Rumble, in all his well-intentioned sweetness, simply nodded his understanding and agreed to her more than fair terms. "Yes, ma'am." "Now's not the time fer manners!” Applebloom cried, yanking her head upright and waving her hooves frantically in the air. “Are you ok? That looks kinda...” Rumble started, pointing towards the redness around her forehead and flinching as Applebloom knocked his advancing hoof away. “Ah don’t care what mah face looks like! She's talkin' bout us makin'... rollin'..." No longer able to tell if the deep crimson flushing her face was from her attempt at using her head in place of a mallet or the topic at hoof, and slightly hurt that his honest attempt at comfort had been spurned, Rumble’s mind stalled and he murmured the only thing he could think of. "But... I’d like to have kids someday, I think..." “Dear Celestia, ah’m not even ready t’ think ‘bout that!” "Eeyup,” Big Mac chimed in, making no effort to hide his grin and savoring Crimson’s stifled laughter as Applejack looked about ready to blow a fuse. "Brother, don't go encouragin' 'em! Fer cryin' out loud, they're..." Applejack started, desperate to lasso the ever elusive commodity known as rationality and cling to it for dear life, but unfortunately for her, Braeburn had sufficiently recovered and made his entrance, pointedly ignoring Cloudchaser though otherwise acting none the worse for the ware. "The cutest little couple I ever did see!” Braeburn declared, piping up and shifting all eyes to him. Rumble sighed and turned back to Applebloom, all too aware of how one pony could reduce her to muffled sobs as he placed a sympathetic hoof on her back as a silent way of agreeing that things weren’t going to get any better. Applejack seemed similarly affected, the mare immediately covering her face as the ecstatic stallion looked up from his seat directly across from her at the head of the table near Granny Smith. “Just look at those rosy cheeks! Reminds me of this one couple that recently wed. We’ve had plenty o’ folks gettin’ married, let me tell you, but there was one in particular that are just the sweetest little love birds in Appleoosa!" "Braeburn..." Applejack’s interjection was heard, filtered, ignored, and discarded with industrial efficiency while Braeburn continued his story. "They met at the Salt Block, an’ it was the love at first sight. Not two months later they walked right into the mayor’s office, lookin’ to be married. He said yes, o’ course, and in just two short weeks, they..." "Braeburn!" "Cousin Applejack, I can tell you’re gettin’ excited," Braeburn quipped gleefully, the mare’s best mothering glare having no effect as he continued, “but you’re just goin’ to have t’ listen to the whole story! It ain’t right t’ skip around, you’ll miss the details! Anyways, the whole of Appleoosa turned out to wish them well, and let me tell you, we had the best darn shindig that ever was pranced. Just last week the doctor confirmed we’re gonna have another foal in Appleoo...” "Braeburn!!!" Applejack bellowed, slamming a hoof down on the table. Bewildered, clueless, and slightly disappointed that his innocent excitement had been disregarded by his uptight cousin, he turned to Applejack with an exasperated sigh and a hurt expression. "Cous, we talked about yer manners earlier, remember? Now, what’s so important that you need t’ be interruptin’ me?" "They're only twelve! They don't need to be hearing about Appleoosa's population growth!" Braeburn fell silent, appearing to be deep in thought. Finally, he’s starting to get it. Ah swear, ah love mah family, but that don’t mean they don’t rub me the wrong way. Poor Applebloom... Sure enough, the filly was denying everypony the right to catch even the slightest glimpse of her muzzle, a hoof firmly stationed at either side. At least Braeburn will behave fer a little while. He normally stays calm after ah... "Did I mention she conceived right under Bloomberg?" This time, it was Applebloom’s turn to feel sorry for Applejack. A quick peek showed that, as expected, Applejack’s good graces were now shattered fragments acting as unconventional soup crackers while her determination to keep conversation clean melted down to a nice dressing for her salad. Seeing her silence as the go ahead to detail his story further, Braeburn brightened once more and gave a short whoop, eager to share all the wonders of a town he had helped start from scratch. "That's right! Walked in to check on the orchard one day and wouldn’t you know it, there they were, havin’ a right romantic time under the apple trees. Ah didn’t stay an’ watch, of course, that just ain’t proper, but I still wish ‘em the best. Isn’t that just beautiful, cous? In fact, even Bloomberg's havin' babies!" Now ah remember why ah ain’t been back t’ visit since we delivered Bloomberg! Dang it, Applebloom, ah don’t know how t’ deal with this! “Braeburn, I... how did...” “How? Cousin Applejack, I’m ashamed of you,” the stallion proclaimed sadly, shaking his head. “I thought you said you were pregnant. You should know how it happens then! Does Silver know about this?” he asked, turning an eye to the unicorn who was wisely keeping his mouth shut. “Now, either you got too wild or you’ve been slackin’ around the farm, given how much weight you've put on. Which is it, cous? It’s never too late t’ come clean after a lie.” “...what?!?” He’s accusin’ me o’ infidelity, drunken revelry, and worst of all, dishonesty? Family or not, Braeburn, you are gonna get it. Silver steeled his nerves while Big Mac tensed to stave off murder as Applejack leapt onto the table and again displayed the depth of her patience by simply sweeping the stallion’s dinner from the table rather than lopping of his head or something more serious, as he well deserved. “Applejack, your manners have...” “Saved yer life, Braeburn, so clean the salt outta yer ears an’ listen good!” Applejack bellowed, thrusting her face close and dropping to a growl. “Let’s get somethin’ straight here, cousin. First, ah’m pregnant. Second, Silver’s the father. Third, ah’m well aware o’ how it happened! Fourth...” “Phew! Well, that’s a relief!” Braeburn interjected, unfazed. “That saves me the trouble of havin’ to show you!” Apparently unconcerned by the deathly hush that followed, the stallion cast a languished eye towards his upended bowl of soup on the floor, lamenting such a callous waste of good food. While the gears in Applejack’s head ground together trying to formulate a response that didn’t end in copious bloodshed, Flitter, who had remained timid and quiet since the start of dinner, piped up and turned to her sister, sitting on the other side of Thunderlane, barely containing the urge to bust a lung for his little brother’s sake. “Um, sis? I thought there were rules about that kinda thing, right?” “Eeyup.” Emphatic, deep, and decisive, Big Mac adopted a dark scowl and answered for her, pushing Thunderlane over the edge and from his seat as the red stallion crossed his hooves over his chest and simply shook his head. “Huh, and ponies gave us a hard time for sharing a stallion...” Cloudchaser murmured to her sister, chuckling softly and casting an apologetic eye towards Rumble who was floundering in his attempts to provide any semblance of comfort to a filly pushed well past embarrassed. “I don’t see what everypony’s all worked up about. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a book that mentions it somewhere in Appleoosa...” Braeburn defended, confounded at everypony’s strange behavior and rising to grab himself more to eat. “Oh, don’t pay them any attention, Braeburn. Mares always get a little funny when they’re pregnant. I would know! In fact...” and off she went, sparing nopony and painting a vivid, picturesque tale of her own experience with childbirth. Defeated and convinced damage control was a lost cause as much as talking sense into Granny Smith was likely, Applejack dismounted her makeshift soapbox and slowly sank down next to her husband, who slowly slid a hoof delicately around her shoulder while simultaneously trying to think of something to say or do to ease her mind. “Sweeteheart, if it’s any consolation...” “It ain’t.” Taking his cue to provide silent support and nothing more, Silver levitated his glass over and took a swig, cringing as Braeburn took his seat and spoke up once more. “Now that that's taken care of... any chance I could get some Sweet Apple Acres cider? All this storytellin' is making me right thirsty." “That’s a grand idea!” Granny Smith chortled, letting out a whoop. “C’mon then, Silver, time t’ break out the booze! I’ll have twenty! Braeburn, our Silver here is the best brewer in town, doncha know...” Off on another tangent, the matriarch was soon chatting up a storm with the familial dunderhead also doubling as a guest, chatting excitedly about anything and everything that came to mind. Knowing the mare had never stayed awake past a few glasses, Silver gave her a polite nod and prepared to rise when Applejack’s hoof shot out and clamped over his hind leg, a wicked grin spreading across her muzzle as she turned meet her expectant husband’s gaze. It was time for revenge. “Ah told Applebloom ah was gonna try mah best t’ make tonight as painless as possible, an’ judgin’ by the fact she ain’t hardly looked up since Braeburn opened his big mouth means mah failure is all his fault,” she whispered, her voice almost a soft growl. “I think it’s time mah cousin’ learned a thing or two ‘bout payin’ attention. Silver, grab every dang poison joke additives ya got from the house an’ spike 'is drink with every single one.” “I ain’t tryin’ to be a spoilsport, sweetheart, but don’t you think that’s a little much?” “No, you’re right,” she conceded, falling silent for a moment. “It ain’t far enough. Give ‘im some dragon liquor, too.” “Applejack, I really don’t think that’s...” Silver wasn’t a fool. Working as a bartender in Manehatten before coming to Ponyville, and subsequently observing mare and stallion alike in both sober and drunken states, he had learned to read physical cues fairly well, and the stare with which he was regarded at this point in his rebuttal read clearly as “that request was rhetorical, is not optional, and will result in physical harm should it be denied or delayed.” “One revenge cocktail, shaken, not stirred, coming right up.” Excusing himself with a polite nod, Silver set about his mission with dutiful intent to scar for life, heading back to his pad and sifting through his materials and unable to stop a grin from forming as he found that concocting revenge was every bit as simple as common cocktails. After adding the correct poison joke extracts, he poured in no more than a teaspoon of dragon liquor, a base layer of double strength shockberry wine, and topped it off with some fire-imbued schnapps to give it an extra kick. He paused, holding the volatile substance up to his nose and taking a sniff after the crackling of the electricity had died down and was no longer sparking like fizz. “Huh, this doesn’t smell half bad, actually.” He stared at the cup for a few more minutes, almost tempted to try it, but decided that Applejack likely wouldn’t be too please if he were to return misshapen, and carefully set it aside before loading up a small cart with more natural drinks and made his way back to the farmhouse, where he was greeted with hearty cheers from thirsty ponies. “One for you, one for you... oh, Applejack, here’s yours.” Catching his wink, Applejack pulled over her mug of non-alcoholic rainbow juice, one of her husband’s first creations made from Cloudsdale certified liquid rainbow, brought it to her lips, and watched over the rim with fiendish anticipation as Braeburn accepted his glass and took a sip. “Well, I’ll be!” Braeburn exclaimed, draining half the glass and immediately seizing as the electricity crackled and the schnapps set his mouth ablaze. Completely unprepared, the stallion fell from his seat and stared blankly at the ceiling as he waited for the feeling to return to his numbed limbs. Notorious for producing a sensation akin to being tickled once the initial shock wore off, Braeburn doubled over with laughter, tears streaming from his eyes both from mirth and the heat comparable to eating a ghost pepper raw reddened his face. Amidst all this, the subtle tingling of the poison joke working its magic slipped by unnoticed by everypony but Braeburn. “This is the most curious, delightful beverage I’ve ever tasted! Silver, how’d you like a job at the waterin’ hole back in Appleoosa?” Braeburn declared, his voice coming through dreadfully refined and feminine. “Oh, now that’s right strange. I sound extra fancy! Silver, you clever stallion, you put somethin’ special in my drink, didn’t you?” “Oh, I put more than a little somethin’ in there,” he replied, entirely unconcerned with the way everypony was regarding their glasses with apprehension. Braeburn finished off the last of his treat, and was turned back around to ask for another when he noticed two things that were different, three that were awry: his hair had inexplicably grown, his alcohol tolerance seemed dreadfully lower than he remembered if his swimming vision was any indication, and something definitive to every stallion was missing. “Golly, I’m a mare?” Braeburn murmured, examining his flowing locks and reformed figure with awe while Applejack awaited the reality of his position and the embarrassment that came with it to finally sink into the dense stallion’s cranium. Silver, you really outdid yourself this time; This’ll teach ‘im not t’ run his mouth fer sure! “I always knew I was pretty, but I never imagined I’d wind up turnin’ into a mare!” he, or rather she, laughed, entirely unconcerned. “Silver, he ain’t screamin’. What’s goin’ on?” Applejack whispered out of the corner of her mouth, watching as the mare clapped her hooves together in revelrous glee. “Well, if I had to take a guess, Braeburn is currently too drunk from the dragon liquor to fully understand his position. That, or he always wanted to be a mare, and I just gave him his greatest wish.” “...that would explain a lot, now wouldn’t it,” Applejack groaned, turning to Applebloom who was giving her sister the best glare she could conjure. “Sorry, Bloom. I thought it would be worth it.” “You mean t’ tell me honestly that you thought getting a spaz like Braeburn drunk an’ takin’ away ‘is parts, which breaks yer promise ah might add, struck you as a good idea? Are ya bloomin’ mad?!?” Applejack would have taken the time to explain how she had in fact not broken any promise, given that she had only agreed to make sure Silver left the extracts at home, which he did, but she was too busy staring in abject horror at the beast she’d created. With the dialect of a settler pony, the voice of an elegant noblemare, and lithe figure of a showgirl, Braeburn locked Thunderlane in his twinkling green eyes and mounted the table. “Now, ain’t you a fine stallion...” Braeburn giggled, batting her eyelashes as she took a single dainty step forward, followed by another, and yet another as she homed in on her prey. Cloudchaser tensed as she prepared to clobber the stallion-mare-thing stalking her coltfriend, only to find that Braeburn was too drunk to account for physics, gender, decency, or pretty much anything else, while still capable of an incredible burst of speed. Thunderlane wasn’t ready. Braeburn was. Kissing happened. “Kids these days...” Granny Smith muttered, glancing at the two with a reproving stare before hiding her grin behind a nice glass of cider as the room erupted into chaos. For common reasons, the dinner table was abandoned as ponies fled in all directions, save Crimson and Cloudchaser who were too busy roaring with laughter as the dragon liquor robbed Braeburn of all motor control including that of his tongue, reducing him to slurred babbles as the feebly scrabbled at the floor in an attempt to stand. Granny Smith waved cheerfully as the last ponies left, taking another sip of cider and letting out a contented sigh. Ain’t nopony gonna ferget somethin’ like this, not even when they’re my age. Ah, family time... ain’t nothin’ greater.