Fuchsia and Lavender Are (Not) Dead

by 621Chopsuey

Fuchsia and Lavender are (Not) Dead

Occurs during the events of the “Friendship Games” shorts.

It was a beautiful afternoon in the Canterlot suburbs. The sky was clear, leaving the sun free to bath the city in its warmth and light. The leaves of the trees fell gently in the cooling breeze to the ground below. People meandered through the streets in light jackets, either on business, hanging out with friends, or simply just enjoying a stroll this fine Friday.

Fuchsia Blush and Lavender Lace were no exception as they took advantage of the favorable weather by taking their own stroll down the streets of town. Their afternoon plans involved spending a few hours at Carousel Boutique to assist with preparations for the upcoming Friendship Games, specifically the uniforms the competing students would wear during the event. It was a task of which both were veritably eager to lend a helping hand; an opportunity to assist with a project headed by none other than Canterlot High's budding fashionista was both an honor and gateway to excitement.

The pair soon arrived and entered the establishment. With the chime of the door bell, the girls were greeted with racks of clothes from blouses to sweaters spanning the wall in a flawless, meticulous organizational setup based on color and gender. Mannequins fitted with dresses or suits stood high as guardians of fashion over their chosen lands. Further back were fitting rooms and adjacent mirrors, one of the latter occupied by Amethyst Star as she looked herself over wearing a dress that almost appeared to be made of stained glass.

Rarity herself patiently stood by ready to assist her customer, spectacles and tape measure at the ready for any further adjustments. At the chime of the door’s bell, she turned and her face brightened at the arrival of her expected guests. She clapped her hands together in excitement. “Marvelous! You’re just in time!”

“Hey, Rarity." Fuchsia greeted. "What’s shakin’?”

Amethyst broke away from admiring herself to peer at the new arrivals. She immediately set her gaze upon Lavender and broke into a mischievous smile. “Got another book to throw at me?”

Lavender matched her expression. “No, but I can offer a compliment: you look positively fetching in that dress.”

“I’m glad you think so, darling." The young fashionista clasped her hands together in delight. "It’s a design I’ve been working on for some time now.” Rarity gestured to Amethyst, who struck a pose, ensuring the small wings on the back received ample attention. “I call it the Princess Dress.”

Lavender nodded in approval. “Once again, Rarity, you’ve outdone yourself.”

The compliment was well-received, if Rarity’s polite giggle was any indication. “Thank you. I try my best to impress.” The fashionista turned to her presently sole customer of the moment. “Could you wait a minute, Amethyst? I’ll be right back down once I get them settled in.”

With a nod from Amethyst, Rarity lead her volunteers up the ivory staircase to the second floor, where her secondary residence, surplus of dresses, and workroom were located.

“You heard about the tryout results yet?” Fuchsia inquired.

Rarity shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything about them, no. I’ve been rather preoccupied with the uniforms.”

“Trixie didn’t make the team.”

The fashionista was not all that surprised to hear the news. “She attempted to bedazzle the judges, didn’t she?”

Fuchsia shared a look with Lavender, then shifted back to Rarity. “Well…”

The chemistry classroom was silent when Trixie, donned in a labcoat, gloves, and goggles, stepped behind the table. As always she radiated an aura of confidence that could eclipse the competitive spirits of Canterlot High’s proudest athletes.

From her seat, Vice Principal Luna, along with Ms Cheerilee and Mr Doodle, watched her intently. “Are your ready for your tryout, Ms Lulamoon?”.

Trixie smirked. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is always ready.”

Among the small group of students spectating, Microchips whispered to himself, “No, she isn’t. She’s not wearing her hair up. That’s a safety violation.”

If Trixie heard him, she didn’t give any indication. She proceeded to grab two vials and dribble several drops of their contents into a third empty vial. The mixture turned a vibrant red, then immediately exploded. The room was cast in a cloud of smoke thick enough to send its occupants into a cacophony of coughing.

Once it cleared, Trixie was nowhere to be seen. Pinkie Pie gasped. “She’s gone!” However, a second glance prompted her to amend her exclamation. “Oh wait, there she is.”

Crouched below the table, Trixie pouted her lips in frustration.

“I don’t get paid enough for these horseapples,” grumbled Mr Doodle.

“I figured that would cost her a position on the team.” If there was one thing Trixie was well known for, it was her theatrical personality. Almost every waking moment was dedicated to being a spectacle, much to the annoyance of her peers. Even tasks as simple and mundane as acquiring peanut butter crackers from the vending machine were aggrandized with a flourish of pocket change.

“She’s not entirely disappointed about it. If anything, she’s rather content having made first runner-up,” Lavender said, looking to the side in mild discomfort. “I guess breaking up the band helped Trixie mature a bit.”

Fuchsia snorted as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Mature? When Tartarus freezes over, maybe." It was no secret that once upon a time Lavender genuinely admired the aspiring magician for her charisma, despite her contemptuousness was plain as day. Even after Trixie's hypercompetitive antics during the Battle of the Bands and the Anon-A-Miss incident over the winter, Lavender still held enough of a level of respect to defend her. Fuchsia often wondered if her friend could be too forgiving and, perhaps, naive. "She still expects people to drool at her theatrics."

"Okay, so 'mature' isn't the best word." Lavender conceded. Fuchsia possessed a talent for reading the emotions of others and to some extent their thoughts. Though there were moments when hotheadedness stood in the way of rational analysis for Fuchsia; get her riled up and she will dig in her heels and stand by her views on a person. Lavender had been witness to such moments, often wishing her friend would take a step back to see past one's imperfections for who they really are. "Still doesn't change the fact she's dramatic by nature. That doesn't mean people like her are incapable of making friends. Just ask Rarity."

"I have no earthly idea what you are talking about." Rarity coughed as she laid a hand on the knob to the workroom door. Desperate to direct the subject away from herself, she asked, “By the way, who did make the Canterlot team?”

“You Rainbooms took half the spots,” said Fuchsia with tinted envy as they stepped inside. “Totally saw that coming a mile away.”

“We seem to be in spotlight often these days...” Rarity pondered aloud as she wheeled out a pair of racks loaded with outfits, all in various stages of completion. “Who else?”

Fuchsia counted off her fingers. “Flash, Lyra, Bon Bon, Micro, Sandal, and Derpy.”

Rarity couldn’t help but blink. “Derpy? She… is not exactly the most coordinated person in the class. No offense to her.” She cleared her throat and gestured to the racks, eager to get to the task at hand. “These are the outfits we’ll be working on today. We’ll get started once I’ve finished helping Amethyst with her dress. In the meantime, could you put on the archery outfits? I need to make a few minor changes to the waistlines first.”

“You got it.”

Rarity closed the door behind her, leaving Lavender and Fuchsia alone in the room with nothing left to do but strip down to their undergarments.

As she slipped out of her leggings, Lavender cast her gaze at the duo of mannequins posing in the corner. Both were garbed in a unique outfit handcrafted by Rarity herself, respectively welder’s gear and a constable’s uniform to be precise. On the rack close by, she fancied a particular set of gowns, the gowns Rarity and her friends wore at the Fall Formal. A wave of nostalgia hit Lavender as she thought back to that eventful night.

Fuchsia spoke as if she could read her friend’s thoughts. “I can't believe it's been a few months.”

Lavender nodded, shedding her top to reveal the pink lingerie beneath. “Indeed. Ever since the Fall Formal, we’ve been prime real estate for magical mayhem. As exciting as it can be, it’s stressful.” She paused, crossing her arms in thought. “Then again, Rarity and the others are at the center of it all. If we feel we’ve aged a couple years, imagine how she feels at the end of the day.”

Fuchsia, now down to her yellow undergarments, chuckled. “She’d be in need of some major downtime, that's for sure. Like more than one trip to the Aloe and Lotus's. Or the Sweet Shoppe.”

"I'm surprised she manages her figure with all the milkshakes she gets from there. Luckily for me, I have good genes on my side." Lavender struck a pose that emphasized her waistline. A pair of jeans splat her in the face a moment later. "Well played."

"Luckily for you, enough of Trixie's ego rubbed off on you to make such a bold claim." Fuchsia snickered.


The lights suddenly went out, blanketing the room in pitch-black darkness. Naturally, the two girls tensed as they were unable to see anything sans one another’s eyes. Both sets of eyes met in mutual expressions of anxiety. “Either Rarity neglected to pay the electric bill orㅡ” Lavender’s speculation was cut off by the sounds of scuffling and muffled grunts. “Fuchsia?” No response. She tensed further, very unsettled by what was transpiring. She hurriedly navigated the darkness in search of a light source, her hands eventually settling what she deduced were curtains. Lavender pulled them back and the room was once again bathed in light.

Lavender’s heart nearly spasmed when she felt a pair of cold hands on her wrists. Years of CQC training courtesy of her mother and action sequences from her anime collection kicked in, sending the girl into defensive mode and her enigmatic assailant into the wall. Catching her breath, Lavender tilted her head in confusion at what sounded like plastic hitting the floor. Further questions arose when she turned around to find the welder mannequin in a state of dismemberment on the workroom floor. Next to it was a bound Fuchsia, who was glaring icy blue daggers at the second mannequin standing above her.

The two girls were disturbed by the fact two mannequins were attacking them. It was as if Canterlot High had become a ground zero for the supernatural nowadays. First power-hungry she-demons, then spellbinding Sirens, now hostile mannequins. What next in the parade of constant abnormalities?

Lavender narrowed her eyes at the constable mannequin as it spun its billy club tauntingly. “I feel like I’m in that one Doctor Who episode.”

“Half-naked and hog-tied like one of Applejack’s pigs? No way, this is Torchwood,” Fuchsia opined from the floor. “All that’s missing is the fuㅡlook out!”

The mannequin closed in, raising its billy club. Lavender held up her hands and delivered a few well-placed strikes to its chest before it could land a hit, then followed up with a kick to the abdomen that sent it crashing into one of the clothes racks.

“Impressive,” Fuchsia praised from behind, “Most impressive. You almost put my boxing to shame.”

Lavender forewent with any further banter nor did she let up on her attack, swiftly closing the distance between her and the mannequin. She grabbed it by one of it’s legs and spun it around her, eventually building enough momentum to let it go and send it careening into a table loaded with fabrics.

Had it possessed eyes, the mannequin would have blinked in disbelief, and maybe awe, at the power and grace of Lavender’s attacks. They would have widened, too, at the sight of the girl rushing at it with a hockey stick borrowed from another ensemble. It rolled out of the way before the stick could come down on its head.

The mannequin reoriented itself behind Lavender and came at her with its billy club, to which she blocked. A duel quickly ensued between the two, one that sent clothes and supplies scattered asunder, of which Fuchsia did her best to avoid being smothered by in her bound state. At one point the mannequin took a wide swing at Lavender’s head when she let herself open. Unfortunately, it had forgotten about Fuchsia, who rolled behind its feet and unbalanced it enough to send the swing off course.

Lavender took advantage of the opening and returned the favor.

The mannequin’s head bounced once, twice, thrice, then rolled to a stop at her feet.

A sweating Lavender dropped her makeshift weapon and settled to the cool flooring to catch her breath. It was over. She won. She had held her own against living mannequins and defeated them, though the sensation of victory did nothing to quell the blond girl’s curiosity. How did the mannequins come to life in the first place? Why did they attack them?

Meanwhile, Fuchsia’s jaw hung agape in amazement. It took a moment before she could regain use of it. “I… wow. Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

A tired smile adorned Lavender’s face. “When your mother is a cop, you tend to learn a few important life skills.” Her smile fell and she turned back to the remains of the mannequins. “What were those things?“

“I dunno, but for now let’s just blame it on magic. We get plenty of that nowadays.”

“I guess it's as legitimate of an explanation as any...”

“Darn right, it is.” Fuchsia looked down at herself, wriggling her fingers. “Now how about untying me? I'm starting to lose feeling in my hands.”

Lavender rushed over to her friend and proceeded to haul her to her feet. She may have been short, but Fuchsia was heavier that she appeared. She claimed it was all muscle mass, but Lavender was smart enough not to question it. Muscle mass or not, Lavender lost her grip for a moment and hastily wrapped her arms around Fuchsia’s body before she could fall. The gears in her brain ground to a halt the moment one of her hands grabbed something very, very soft.

Much to her surprise and embarrassment, Fuchsia felt one hand grab her clothed bosom. It was an accident, of course, but the fact her friend had a death grip on her boob as well as her waist was uncomfortable in multiple senses of the word. Physically, mentally, awkwardly arousing...

As if the universe found humor in their predicament, Rarity chose that moment to walk in, and she was visibly annoyed at the earlier sounds of commotion. “Good grief, how am I supposed to perfect Amethyst’s dress with you two...” She trailed off, her mouth catching up with her eyes, which had widened at the sight of the two compromised girls standing amidst her desecrated workroom. “Wahaha!!