I want to say as a forenote: I checked, Pinkie Twi is not a real user. Also, this fic is on request, it’s not all my option to write this about someone I don’t know personally.
Hooves clacked against the smooth surface of the keyboard as Feline typed away at her story. Her online fans were going to love it. It was everything that Feline loved about everything and now she could share it with everypony online that she cared about.
Feline finished the last sentence of the very last chapter. She was done. She could finally get the story approved for moderation and show everypony her newest and greatest creation.
Pressing into a new tab and logging onto the site, Feline noticed that she was short as of one follower. What happened? Feline pressed into her wide list of followers and looked for whomever had stopped reading her stories. “Who was that?” Felin asked herself, “What did I write to make…” Feline noticed the list had missing one member in particular that would never be replaced by any other follower: “Pinkie Twi” had forgotten her. Her closest friend on the website had just left her. She didn’t like her stories anymore.
You are just a unicorn sitting at a computer screen. You type away at the keyboard and look for material to read on this whole new website for undiscovered artists. You can’t find exactly what you like about it, but there’s something in reading stories that don’t exactly go very far beyond the website and in exploring it that makes you enjoy reading here more than anywhere else.
You scroll down the stories and search for the stories you personally want to read. Nothing comes up. It’s all scratch, clop, it’s… weird shipping. “Who wrote that?” you ask yourself looking at a specific story that nopony should have written. “How was that story approved?” you ask looking at a story that at full-length was about two sentences long. You keep searching and looking.
“Finally,” you say upon seeing an original piece. It was probably going to be good, especially considering the artist. She had many stories and each one varied in views, but this one in particular stood out to you.
You read it, eagerly and think to yourself as you do so: “this story was made for me.” You know the author had clearly not intended it for you, but every word of it speaks directly to you. It was a part of your life equally as it was a part of hers and it was beautiful.
You scroll down to the comments to type your response:
Loved it!
Thank you for sharing your story on this site,
You stop and scroll back to the top of the page to find the name.
...Feline Fluff.
You finish the comment and submit it to the author. That wasn’t the end of it, though. It was now that you went ahead and read all three of her other stories. They were perfect. They were all for you and for everypony. They were perfect.
It was days later that you got your response from the mare on the other end of the computer. She messaged back:
Thank you, I needed someone to tell me that.
You are perplexed by the statement, you respond to that reply:
Why do you need that?
Moments later, you receive the response:
I just do. My friend doesn’t like my stories anymore.
You then immediately respond:
I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there something I can do?
You wait patiently for her to respond, but nothing comes until the next day:
I just want a friend like her.
You scroll to the very top of the page you’re on and click the “watch” button on her page:
I might not be able to be a friend like whomever she had been, but you’re already a friend to me.^__^
You receive a reply after an hour of waiting:
Why?
To which you respond:
I read your stories. They were there when I needed them. Now I’m here for you if you ever need me.
We can talk if you want to.
The answer came swiftly:
I would love to.
Your hooves clattered on the keyboard as you typed and typed your messages from one end of the computer to the other as you learned about the incredible mare on the other end.
The internet is not the greatest place to meet. You talked to her over the chat on the website for as long as you could before finally meeting in person.
You stand at the side of the block with your legs shaking and your teeth just about chattering. She was your online idol for a long time. What if she didn't like you?
Feline walked down the dirt road to the cafe where you two planned to meet. Often she'd look down and around to make sure that nothing was one her hooves or on her face for fear that she'd suffer an embarrassing introduction. "Keep it together, Feline," she'd say to herself trying to calm down.
The mare catches your gaze before you catch hers. You she her shaking in the pure heat of day. Apparently she was just as nervous to meet you as you were you meet her. You walk over to her and shake her hoof softly. The mare gazed into your eyes shyly and you gaze back just as much so. Throughout the course of the meeting that ended up being a date before anything else, the mare continued her gaze. She was nice, funny and beautiful. "There is no way you'd ever let her go," you think as you stare across the table at your newest, best friend.
Everyone has a friend here.
Everyone deserves another’s welcome.
And there’s always a friend to help you get over another.