Errrrrg. Rosy dreams of Apple Bloom cut off, replaced by a grim awareness of the world at hand. The imaginary sensations of Apple Bloom part too fast, hatefully replaced by the lifeless touch of soft blankets. Recollection is attempted, a desperate pull for those lost caresses; little success is found, and that soon lost to the imposing demand of the uncomfortable heat of the bed. You twitch and squirm, aware of the bad warmth, but not enough to see the solution. Another minute of discomfort brings you closer to your senses, and you toss off the coverings, exposed to the mild air of your room. You’re awake.
A stir of emotions swarm within you as you try to recoup, the persistent slumber making your head swim. What’s clear is this: some part of you is awake, while the rest needs sleep. Another groan falls to the floor while neck muscles strain to turn the resistant head. Faint moonbeams are found, tirelessly dragging themselves through the window; but their obstacles and distance was too great, the illumination they set out to bring is barely passable. If not for eye grown accustomed to the dark over several hours, nothing could be seen; as it was, you were able to make out the shapes of the room, if not the details. Working with memory, a map of the room in drawn in your head, and you stand up to leave. Now prepared to dodge obstacles and locate the door, you exit the room, in pursuit of warm milk to dull an anxious mind.
Stepping silently down the halls and stairs, the deep blue kitchen meets you. Cold tiles clasp your feet, which in turn hop away, preferring the less chilly carpets. A glistening, hazy mirror reports itself as the face of a refrigerator, beckoning your gait. Soundless it opens, only the wild scream of its outward rays to make any alert. Unheard by other eyes, your quest remains solo. This insensitive body is your only defense against the twin assaults of the burning lamp and biting tiles, eventually overcoming both by man’s insurmountable capacity to accustom. The blinding light fades to its typical glow, revealing sundry containers of uninteresting nourishment, save for one. Its plastic container is pulled from a lofty perch, delivered to lower counters. Meeting it, a crystalline chalice, chosen for its poetic reflections of sparse moonlight. Thickly, that white liquid charges into its destination, some drops lost on the counter beside. Solution made, the combination of glass and milk transports to the microwave. Subjected to its namesake, it’s swirled, tested, and finds favor. Disorganized drops are wiped, gallons replaced, and the door is shut, finishing all steps of the quest, save the reception of its reward.
Leaning back on the counter, the unlit world is shrouded. That adaption to the light removed its counterpart to dark, leaving you lost in the dark. Still, a dim window is found, through which the stars call for attention. Freely and wisely given, they twinkle and shine as you drink your warm prize. Insides nearly melt as the old remedy cures festering anxiety. Slowly drained, the cup barely imprints itself on your nearly dazed countenance, nearly entranced by inner warmth and the celestial bodies winking in the distance. A final draw realizes the end of the drink, it’s fruitlessness revealing the previous to have finished it. Tiptoes summon the dishwasher, and carefully opened, it quietly consumes your unrequired shell, then closes its maw.
Ends met, the way back home is carefully executed, much harder with darkness unfriended eyes. But home is got, no expense beyond a smarting toe and a softly cursed table. Relaxing in the quiet cloak of unfinished night, breaths softly come in the apple-clad guest room. Inside you, the war against yourself is waged, desperate attempts to stave off dread thoughts of family and family not, those truly kin and those with title solely. Unwinnable strife halts when the girl moves through mind, all silent at the golden and red visage. Queenly banish relieves one, sending black terror far into hiding. And princess-like, memories of her kiss bring final freedom, sweet reentry into dreams.
Legendary tales of bravery pass through your head, loyal knighthood and rightful kingship assigned to you in those vivid fantasies. But no sooner than your third dragon is slain does your kingdom fall to pieces, ruined by a kind girl shaking your body. Like any good king, you try to defend the citadel, holding to your precious domain.
“Mmmmm. No. Sleep now.” But the gentle rocking sends violent waves to rend your sojourn, a catastrophe too great to be fixed. The soft face of Applejack, unknowing of her ruinous effect, greets you, as friendly as any amnesiac, deposed king could be.
“Urng. Mmph. Go ‘way.”
“Come on, Anon, it’s nearly eleven.” Still missing the disappearing life, you manage to crawl above the blankets, your head and bare chest entering the clean air. Your hands beat out the sand in your drowsy eyes, which attempt to accustom to the fierce light of near-noon. The sight of your room is awash in autumnal colors, including the heavily tanned girl with her dirty-blonde hair. She, sitting on your bed with hands in lap, good-naturedly inquires of your status.
“Y’all awake now?” Mouth still indisposed, you softly nod, becoming the vacationing city boy entirely. A series of blinks brings clarity and distinction to the objects of your room. The most important part of the day comes to mind, and you question its status in regards to your person.
“Is there still breakfast?” Your priorities appear humorous to her, as evidenced by the quiet chuckle.
“First thing on your mind, huh?”
“Well, yeah. It’s the most important meal of the day, you know.” You inform her, the facts on your side.
“Yeah, Ah’ve heard about that. Well, don’t you worry; we’ve finished, but Apple Bloom gettin’ some ready for you now.” She closely observes your brightening appearance as her little sister tugs at your heartstrings all over again. As you ponder who’s supposed to be giving the breakfast in bed (it’s the guy, right?) she asks you about last night. “So how’d the date go?” You nod your head, candidly retelling the way the night went.
“Pretty rad. We went to Texas Roadhouse, and that food was incredible.” A pause. “Oh geez, I think I left the food in the car.” She shakes her head.
“Don’t worry, Apple Bloom got it.” Oh, good.
“Alright. Well, then it was the arcade for a bit, but that was mostly Smash and Marvel v. Capcom. I let her win a fair amount of them, since I’m not a huge jerk. And then the movie, which was alright. Pretty funny, I guess. And after that, we went stargazing.” She raises her eyebrows.
“Stargazing, huh?” You’d forgotten your guile, and realize the mistake. Trying to handle the situation –you’ll wait for Apple Bloom’s OK before you reveal anything- you try to play it cool.
“Yeah, stargazing. It’s pretty fun.” She nods, then assents:
“Yeah, it is.” She leans back and smiles, lost in some past experience. Ah used to go all the time with Big Mac or Braeburn. Got to know quite a few constellations too.” She turns to you, blinking away the glazed look. “Well, Apple Bloom’s been gushin’ nonstop about last night, and what a gentleman you are and whatnot. Wanted to make sure you actually had a good time, instead of… you know, getting dragged along from place to place without her realizing.”
“Nah, I had a lot of fun with her.” You respond, assuaging her concerns. Stomach unclenched, you relax in the sudden absence of an interrogator. All along, she was a friend, not some scheming girl trying to put you in a bind.
“Ah’m glad to hear that.” Just as she finished, closing her eyes in a happy smile, a clamor arises from below, then growing as it comes closer. Through the approaching din of stomping and clanging, you make out three clear words from three voices:
“CUTIE! MARK. COOKS!” AJ seems to relish your shocked, almost fearful look. You can hear a faint snickering held deep in her throat, and write it off as some auditory hallucination. Easy to mishear things when the soundtrack of the apocalypse is playing outside your door. Bang bang bang, cries the innocent wooden door, heralding guests.
“Anon! It’s us!” The unique tone of Scootaloo shouts, soon joined by cohorts.
“The Cutie Mark Crusaders!” All three shout with way too much energy for the morning. Then again, it wasn’t exactly morning, so no fault there.
“Come in,” your frail voice permits, the upper end of the loudness scale barred by half a day of disuse. Apple Bloom blows through the door, followed by a cavalcade of food-bearing girls.
As usual, you notice Apple Bloom first. Her hair is long, falling behind her back. It looks wavy, with only minor curves to it, suggesting a morning straightening. The soft morning light falls softly on it, bringing out its natural rosy brilliance. She wears the large bow again, attached to the back of her head, where pony tails are usually located. The makeup from last night is missing, but you can detect a hint of new cosmetics. Her lips are pinker than usual, a faint glossiness making them shine and catch the eye. Just a hint of eyeliner encircles her eyes, making them pop. She wears an odd combination of shirt and dress. Around her stomach, it appears as a dress shirt, though with sleeves ending midway down her upper arms, and with a thick pink ring as its border. Below the midsection, it transitions to a pure dress, made up of large horizontal stripes. These lines, alternating between pink and white and having no larger number than twelve, encircle her down to her knees, billow out as it goes lower. Over her shoulder is a round purse, the same color as her bow, which in turn wears a bow matching her hair. Small, princess-like blue shoes cover her little feet, but are soon kicked off.
Scootaloo is at her left, and wears an adorable version of a gold uniform. Over her head is a dark green visor, enclosing hair cut short and pulled to the right. Although she wears no discernable makeup, her bright eyes are naturally accented by her dark eyebrows, which twist and bend in her many, capricious expressions. The happy expression on her face reveals a facet you hadn’t noticed before: dimples. They’re subtle, just faint divots in both pink cheeks. She’s got a dark green vest that matches her visor, as well as a white short-sleeve shirt underneath. She wears a pair of white shorts, with numerous black lines, both horizontal and vertical, making it appear similar to some huge graph. A small blue backpack, matching Apple Bloom’s shoes, bulges from behind, noticed only when she turns to round your bed. Pink and white sneakers, mirroring the shade of Apple Bloom’s dress coat her feet.
Sweetie Belle has her hair down, like Apple Bloom’s, but obvious care has been given to it. Manufactured ringlets falls about her head in sweet curls, similar to that of yesterday’s DateBloom, but filled with swilrs of her multicolored hair. The light and dark pinks are held in check by a dark purple bow, matching the thick sweater she’s somehow decided to wear. It looks good, matching her style, if not the weather outside. Her vibrant green eyes, looking like lush fields of grass, are wide open; together with her open, crescent-shaped mouth, she looks both innocent and eager. Over the sweat is a dress not unlike Blooms: the white and pink hues, along with the billowing lower half are mirrored. However, the style is closer to Scootaloo’s shorts: thin pink lines going up and down, left and right, fill up the whole. It’s held with a belt-like ribbon near the top, just below her breasts, tied in a small bow. Tight black legs protrude from underneath, ending just below the knee. Pale white legs go further, ending in a pair a brilliant pink shoes of the same kind as Apple Bloom’s.
AJ, grinning throughout their introduction, puts her hands up and excuses herself. Her place on your bed is filled threefold, a trio of plate-wielding girls setting themselves down. Apple Bloom sits closest to you, her back falling on the headboard, as yours does in your half-sit, half-lie. Scootaloo is situated by your torso, with a supporting arm planted over your body, forming a tent over your critical zone. Sweetie is at your feet, cross legged and beaming. Each lays a plate on the bed-covered legs, though only one is in reach.
“We made ya breakfast!” Apple Bloom cries, then plants a quick kiss on your cheek. Ok, so they probably know. The three of them simultaneously checks to see if the door is closed, then, seeing it is, admit the cause.
“We wanted to get today off to a good start,” Sweetie Belle peeps, her pale skin glowing in the brightened room.
“And congratulate you two, on you know.” Scootaloo dawns the biggest shit-eating grin, pumping her eyebrows up and down at furious speeds. You cock your head, feeling she’s got the wrong idea. Seeing the confused expression of your face, she confirms your suspicion by making a circle with one hand and poking her finger in and out of it.
“What! No!” You turn to your cousin, who appears similarly horrified. “Apple Bloom, what did you tell her?”
“Ah just said we hooked up!” You introduce your palm to your forehead, then explain the difference between hooking up and what you’d done. She nods, “ohhhh”s, blushes, and glares at Scootaloo all in record time, who’s still got sky-high brows. “Come on, Scootaloo you know Ah wouldn’t do that.”
“Sure, sure. But hey, if you guys ever wanna try one a those ménage a trois, go for it.” She throws a hefty wink at you, ignoring the nonunderstanding face of Apple Bloom. You and Sweetie Belle are the only shocked ones among the audience, put off by the invitation and the pronouncing of the “s” in “trois” alike. You look off to the side, trying to change the subject before Apple Bloom asks you what Scootaloo wants with you and her.
“So… what are you three up to today?” Apple Bloom’s arm snakes around your neck, the almost hidden bra moving closer to your cheek.
“We were planning on going tubing down near Scootaloo’s neck of the woods. We figured, swimming up by Sweetie’s was so nice, and my sister won’t let us go to the old swimming hole-“ Here Scootaloo grumbles something about being told they’d seen enough. “so the only place left is the river.” Pulling you closer, her hand softly caressing the skin just below your shoulder, she adds: “we were hopin’ it’d be us four, though.” You hesitate to accept the offer, memories of the putrid slum returning to warn you. Seeing it, Sweetie quickly adds:
“The river’s actually really cool now. They cleaned it up so it’s not all polluted. I mean, it still looks kinda crummy, but tubing down it’s real fun.” The argument from the most prim and proper girl of the group goes further than she suspects: you trust her standards most. Scootaloo leans in from the side, face close:
“And more importantly, we’ll be alo~one,” she practically sings, a seductive smile on her face. Instantly you turn towards Apple Bloom, and your mind goes to several unacceptable places. She seems to hold a similar look as yours, one of held back excitement, with just a trace of hopeful debauchery. Thinking on the option, it’s not really a contest: you wanna do something while you’re here, and something with Apple Bloom’s practically an automatic yes. You’re not gonna miss an opportunity during your short stay.
“Sure, I’ll go. I would like to eat though.” You call attention back to the most important part of the day, which is solidly respected by your pals.
“Ok, we’re leaving in like an hour.” Scootaloo says, suppressing her small glee.
“No, it’s like half an hour.” Sweetie Belle corrects her.
“Eh, we can push it back. Just don’t take forever eating,” comes the response. You nod, and view the meal before you for the first time; sometimes it’s hard to focus on the important things when cute girls are around. Oh. Uh, ok. So the meal isn’t perfect. Burnt toast, a cold slab of overcooked eggs, and milky apple juice lie on the plate before you like some hideous burn victim. You subtly push the plate away, feeling both sorry and averse to the tragedy. All three girls, who’d been watching you with bright expectation, laugh aloud at your attempts to be subtle about your rejection.
“Ah was wondering what you’d do,” Apple Bloom chirps, picking up the next two plates and placing them before you. The same food appears here, but less destroyed and potentially destructive to your health.
“I thought you’d just try and eat it,” Scootaloo chuckles, “You don’t want to offend Apple Bloom, do you?” In response, you turn to Apple Bloom and assume a look of the tenderest love. Softly cupping her chin, you slowly move in, your lips just an inch away from her. Surprised at the sudden affection, Apple Bloom stares frozen at you, while you speak:
“Apple Bloom, I love you.” You lean it and lightly kiss her lips. Moving back a bit, you finish your sentence, still with that soft voice: “But I’m not gonna eat that gross food.” The other girls snicker at the subversion, and Apple Bloom huffs, retracting her arm.
“Maybe Ah shouldn’t cook for you, then.” You laugh, trying to pull the staunch girl back.
“Come on Apple Bloom, I was just kidding. If you really wanted me to, I’d eat your burnt food.”
“You know, Ah’m tempted to ask you to.” You keep up your happy expression, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. Then, in a grateful tone, you take the offensive:
“And I’m so glad you aren’t. That’s why I love you, babe.” She blushes at the term of endearment, forgetting the pretense of indignation. You settle back in the bed, and start in on the delicious meal. Sweetie Belle sweetly warns you:
“Better watch out, Anon. You came pretty close to having to eat our rejects.” You’d reply, but it turns out CMC successes are actually pretty good. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, though already having eaten, help you out a bit; after all they brought way too much food. Apple Bloom, trying to pilfer a cup of undiluted apple juice, explains that they wanted to cover all their bases. The waffles and pancakes were from the family breakfast, but they whipped up the toast, eggs, and apple juice themselves. It’d taken a couple tries, but the girls were persistent, if nothing else. Still, you were grateful, and designed to show them in the most undeniable fashion: devouring all of it. After nothing remained, –ok, maybe there were a couple cakes left, but willikers, these girls made so many- you shooed the girls out of your room.
“Aw, why?” Apple Bloom whines.
“Because I need to get changed, and that’s still something I prefer to do by myself.” You can tell Scootaloo is trying to come up with some sultry reply, so you double your efforts: “Come on, out. Out.” Sweetie Belle remains alone in her quick exit; it takes Apple Bloom and Scootaloo a little effort to force themselves to leave. Geez. A few minutes later, you’re clad in some trunks and the French Club T-shirt you found at Goodwill. Thinking to take a shower, you discard the notion: not really any point if you’re just gonna get wet later. Instead, you head downstairs, finding four girls playing Pirate’s Cove.
“Hey, you ready to go?” asks Scootaloo, clearly anxious to get going. A quick look at her pieces shows her to be severely lagging, and the reason why she’d like to go.”
“Yup. Should we go after this game?” Before Scootaloo can turn her groan into a rescheduling to now, Sweetie Belle affirms the time.
“Yeah, that sounds alright. How much time do we have left?”
“’Bout twenty minutes,” comes the blank response of a concentrating Bloom. You sit down by her side, to her delight. The two of you soon become an unstoppable team, demolishing the opponents. There’s a minor sticking point that your competitors keep focusing on, being your loss at the end, but the both of you insist that it’s unimportant. What matters is that you’re rad as heck, and that marks you as the true winners.
“Are not!”
“Are too!”
“Are not!” The debate goes on like such, measures of success being based on who can achieve the greatest volume. None of you are too mad, though; the four of you just get caught up in the fun of yelling and seeing AJ confused. However, AJ soon breaks up the heated argument.
“Come on girls-”
“Hey!”
“Come on, girls and Anon.” She fixes her sentence, sarcastically placing heavy emphasis on your name. “There’s no need to get so mad. Now shake hands and make peace, or y’all can find another ride to Scootaloo’s.” Not finished playing the injured combatant, you deliver a serious gaze at AJ.”
“I don’t know if I can do that, AJ. Sweetie and Scoots really blew my hat in a creek,” you say without breaking the stare. Only confusion is returned, however:
“What? What’s that mean?” The four girls look questioningly at you, not having heard the phrase before now. The confusion passes over to you, who’d thought that she’d know the country-ism. Choosing not to explain, you stretch your hand out to imaginary foes, who promptly take it. Sweetie shakes it with her nose high in the air, the perfect imitation of a haughty noblewoman forced to interact with the proletariat. Scootaloo gives you the response you feared, squeezing your hand for all she’s worth.
“Ah!” You gasp in pain, not fully expecting it. You’d respond in kind, but you don’t exactly have the proper grip for such. All you can do is plead with the young girl to release you. Before you do so, a glimpse at the triumphant look in her face convinces you to search for another route. Her head is jutted forward in what she thinks is victory, giving you an idea. Quickly, you thrust your head forward, entering her personal space. Your face is only an inch from hers, the pained hand growing either numb or accustomed to the hurt. Taking your free hand a brushing her face, you whisper softly, in the same voice you’d used on Apple Bloom earlier:
“Dearest Scoots, if I say that you’re my one and only, the girl my heart pines for, would you release my hand?” Blushing heavily, the first time you’ve seen her that embarrassed, she quickly retracts her hands, taking a step away. Her open eyes are still fixed on you, however. You thank her in a normal tone: “Thanks Scoots. You’re my one and only, the girl my heart pines for.” Apple Bloom and the others look at you bewildered at your tactic, the former more so than the latter.
“What? I needed my hand back.” “Well, I think that’s as good place as any to go,” says AJ summarily, marching off towards the family van. As the four of you happily follow her, you notice that Scoots is neither addressing you directly nor looking at you. Looks like she can’t take teasing as well as she gives it. Devious plots run through your head, leading to a grin Apple Bloom asks you about directly. Should you tell her? You hesitate, but seeing the benefits of her as a partner in crime, you decide to go for it. Whispering in her ear finally warrants you a look from Scootaloo, the slightest amount of worry appears on her face, as brief and obvious as lightning. Plans of spontaneous butt-grabbing and hugging her while kissing each other flow from your mouth, too lost in your thought to fully consider Apple Bloom’s reaction. A moment of hesitation halts the flow of prospective teasing.
Closed-mouthed, you nervously fear for your esteem; eyes hiding worry search for signs of discomfort and disappointment on the nodding girl’s face. At your silence, her head turns to you, the slow bobbing ceasing. When a wily smiles grows upon her face, golden globes lit with sly excitement, the fear subsides. She’s in. She glances over to dear Scootaloo, now purely defined by a compulsion to check on her future teasers and the complete inability to hide such. Grin growing wider, she lifts her mouth to your tilted head and whispers her own designs into lowered ear. Returning your own nods of agreement, you find yourself somewhat shocked at the number and lengths of some of these. Visions of the both of you each grabbing a boob of the poor girl, of laying next to her and draping legs and arms over enter your head. Trying to douse her high-flying dreams and your libidinous rise, you mention that, perhaps, we should not go so far. A finger on her lip brings forth an understanding acceptance, and the unexpected deviance lowers once more. Trying to lower your own self, you switch thoughts to other environments.
The van lies before you, its faded door open for enter. As you sit down on the far side, just behind the driver’s seat, the touch of Apple Bloom greets your side. The sight of the dull brown interior explodes with visions of escapades with the girls beside you. Ahem. You cough to yourself, shaking your head a bit; you wished that Apple Bloom hadn’t gone so far with her suggestions, but you don’t wish too hard. Two more freshman enter, and one fellow junior. Or, rising senior? Your title during the summer always kinda confused you. A slender arm goes behind your arm and circles back as your loving cousin interlocks herself with you. Caught between soft affection and uncomfortable heat, you attempt to strike up some conversation. Questions of Canterlot High stimulate the rest of the van, all of whom nearly bounce in excitement of their reports.
“Oh, it’s sooo awesome!”
“There’s this crazy counselor who always wears these multi-colored suits-“
“He was kind of a jerk before Fluttershy’s rabbit bit him-
“The music teacher is so creepy-“
“No, she’s great!”
“Yeah, everybody loves her!”
“Yeah, so did I, before she made everyone sign a petition that’d make her the principal.”
“Oh, right. That was really mean.”
“Good thing AJ and her friends told Principal Celestia about it.”
“It wasn’t a big deal, girls.”
“It sure was! If it wasn’t for you girls, we woulda had the worst time ever!”
“There was like, this super buff gym teacher that kept yelling at every kid.”
“Uh-huh. He even got in a screaming match with the principal, totally cowed her.”
“But then Twilight got super fu-friggin pissed and just screamed at him. Really let him have it.”
“Dude quit pretty soon after that. Getting’ told off by teenage girl really took it outta him.”
“Oh man, remember when the school almost got demolished?”
“Wait, when was that?”
“Like, right before we started goin’. Those two contractors wanted to make a freeway right through it.”
“AJ, weren’t you the one who stopped ‘em?”
“Not really. Ah just reminded the board that they were scam artists.”
“Yeah, they wanted to do it to our farm, ‘member?”
“Ah sure do…”
“Oooh! Remember when that magician lady tried to get Twilight expelled?”
“Trixie?”
“Yeah!”
“Dude, how do you forget her name? And she wasn’t trying to get her expelled; she can’t do that.”
“Well, what was she doing?”
“I think get her kicked off the math team? Or replace her as president? I don’t know, something like that.”
“Yeah, and she did!”
“For like, half a day. Then Cheerilee found out she was hiding a the answers in that weird brooch.”
“Still, Ah got a bit scared.” The girls continue to regale you with stories of their high school. It isn’t clear if they’re exaggerating or if the place is actually the center of these storybook dramas. Either way, you feel a clear note of jealousy rising up in you. Sapping the joy of your physical connection with your cousin, thoughts of your distant school, Apple-less, threatens to engulf your whole mind. A frigid smile and fixed crinkles are put forth in the hopes of masking the tumultuous depression beneath. Put off so long, those awful gravities grew to unavoidable strengths. What had been a mere background, a faint shadow with delusions of entrance, now gained that presence you’d fought so hard against. The heavy cloud had surrounded you at the first spark of joy, flickering in the presence of newfound kin. And the murky gas, with its single-minded aim of diffusing, sought every crack of your mind. Hastily you’d sped to each opening, marked by the tangible dark seeping through, and plugged it. The feverish chase that had so come to be, almost the norm of your mental action, had failed in sort. And for the first time since Apple Bloom had light that fire in you, that miserable mire had seeped in once more, choking the anguished flame. All you could do was sit frozen, masked with turgid joy and connection, and wait for the spell to pass.
But the solo quest was interrupted, a variable unaccounted for setting new paths before you. The notice of your stilted replies and nods, like a poorly used puppet, had come unto Apple Bloom. Her face worried, perhaps not seeing the muck that had flooded your head, but suspecting something of its ilk. The first thought to cross her mind is a tightening of your physical bond, drawing you closer. But the small spark fails to catch, just as a second solution crosses her mind. It’s a simple sentence, spoken with the typical earnestness of the energetic girl, but the effect’s profundity is inversely proportional to the statement’s lack.
“Hey, you should come to Canterlot High next year.” All eyes turn towards you, save the driving AJ, who goes silent in a severe attentiveness.
“What?” What do you say? This wasn’t a solution you’d foreseen, let alone considered.
“Ya got another year to go, right?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, move down here!” It isn’t a well-thought out proposition; rather, it was the first answer to the distance that she too feared. At the first crossing her mind, she’d treated it as prophecy, and at the first opportunity, she’d thrust the inevitable choice forward as a request. Before you the weighty smog dissipated, like an ignited balloon. Clear air filled your head, which swam with visions of a full year with Bloom, and who knows what beyond. Playing in fields, valleys, in schools, hanging with AJ and the CMC, pleading to see the clubhouse, skinny-dipping, game nights, and more dates.
The effect of these numerous pictures was great; before, it had only been bright enough to forget the poisionous vapor outside. But now, it seemed as if it could be banished entirely, as if your frantic scramble to keep your head above the water could be ended, that solid ground could bless your flailing feet. In these visions, you saw as you had not seen before. Disorganization was revealed in the dim glow, a wainscoting of remaining sludge of the walls of your psyche. The filth of Scootaloo’s home was here echoed, a grime filled house testifying to your poor state. Your long face was cast out as you focused on the new centerpiece, the crackling bonfire warming the once wintry house. Perhaps in time the grime could be wiped, the thoughts organized. A small hand squeezed yours, a happy burst of flame leaping up. At the promise in her touch, the hope of one day being healed, you set your mind to it. You had to stay. Not being the most extroverted person, you don’t express the whole of your impassioned decision. A small but firm:
“Yeah, I will” exits your lips, a solid nod hinting at the great resolve behind it. Still, you end up doubling back, not yet brave enough to make such a promise: “I mean, I’ll try.” But Apple Bloom saw your wish, and took it as the unavoidable conclusion it was.
She’d made up her mind days ago, but only recently realized her pure faith in Anon’s stay. He had to stay, she’d thought. Her young mind still couldn’t grasp the nature of the world, that “ought” did not always translate to “is.” She wanted him here, even needed him. How or why, she didn’t know; only the pure gravity that held her form was seen, and this indisputable. It is there, pulling her in since that first step off the train, and grew greater every time a barrier to his heart fell. Those kind eyes, often geared towards her own, set her heart aflutter. The soft grip of his hands on hers, the not unappreciated visits of his gaze to her chest, the careless laughter she’d drawn out of him, which so contrasted with the weight on his heart. All of these things and more set him as her favorite boy, the best cousin imaginable.
And didn’t he need her? Amid fears of being a nuisance and unwanted, she’d seen proof that he wanted her as well. The way he went along with her jokes, reached for her hands or grasped them back when she reached for his, and the bearing of his heart to her were proof enough. Her grip on his arm tightened, and eyes met. Hers filled with radiant pleasure at a future not to be doubted, lending him strength to believe in the same. They needed each other, she thought, so they must end up together. A world that didn’t work that way was unbelievable. Reminders of the cruelty of her parent’s departure and his’ isolation were pushed out, two dark specters not to be allowed in her happy mind. And with their arms snaked together, visions capturing a horizon holding hope, the rest of the trip passed easily.
Soon enough the welfare wasteland came into view, still shocking you with the gross atmosphere. But rather than going down those previously known roads, the garbage choked alleys gave way to a more natural arena. The forest you’d seen before, hiding behind great trash mounds, had burst forward, thrusting aside all of man’s works. The grassy floor had shaken off the refuge, and now laid itself bare before you, a pure, waving green under the flourishing canvas of thick trees and bushes. The great trunks of giants sat beside the empty dirt road, jumping up and down at every bump in the road. The van grinds to a halt at a rectangular patch of dirt by the side of the road, the vibrancy of the natural world urging you to escape the metal confines. Hopping out, you immediately hear the greatest track of nature, the theme of all youthful expeditions: running water.
Chipper female voices arise from around you, but the contents aren’t discerned. Somewhere along the line, your pants come off, revealing the swim trunks underneath them. They’re tossed in the car, as well as the outer garments of your compatriots, now dressed in choice suits. AJ gives the lot of you a “come on” look and wipes the discarded clothes off the tube. It’s one of those double ones, shaped like a figure eight, with a little square in the middle for drinks or whatever. She pulls out a pump and tosses it to you, along with the deflated ride. With a little help from a sweet belle, you find the little opening and stick the tip of your pump in it. Setting up the main body, you grip the two handles and begin pushing down, forcing air into the tube. It isn’t too long til you get a bit tired, embarrassing though it is. However, luck isn’t far, and a Scootaloo shoos you off, eager to provide some help.
You let her have it, turning around to look at the lush woodland around. It really is beautiful; the events behind you fade out, relegated to some corner of your mind while you take it all in. The trees aren’t as thick as they were in the beginning, but roughly one or two within every twenty feet. However, being so deep in the forest, there are plenty of trees behind all those in the immediate background, leaving no visual exits of the wood in their graded rows. Bright pockets of flora abound, little rows and spots of multicolored flowers, all backed on the many shades of brown and green. The calls of birds play in tune with the rushing clamor of the living river, hypnotizing you. Needless to say, you didn’t get out often, and certainly not into this level of untouched perfection.
“Alright, Ah’m headin’ out! You guys have fun!” The bellowing AJ wakes you to the human element once more. Slightly embarrassed at your singular reverie, you stumble back into the crowd of three yelping girls, and wave goodbye to your older cousin. The van exits, the smoke soon after, and the four of you are left with nothing but each other and the mostly full inner tube. Noting Scootaloo’s obvious tiredness, barely masked by her unwillingness to show weakness, you tap her shoulder. She lets you finish up, the grabs one end while you take the other. Sweetie Belle guides Scootaloo down a rocky path, and you follow their lead, a skipping Bloom at your side.
The nearby river explodes into view, the few cracks of blue between the trees suddenly giving way to the full picture. Though the roar makes it sound as if it were some foaming rapids, it actually looks pretty mellow to you. The water glows a brilliant azure in the further parts, the bright suns speckling it, as if by it’s own bound stars. Near, the lower concentration offers a clearer picture, revealing dark brown rocks and deep mossy green beneath the surface. Where the occasional rocks juts out, or at odd shifts of direction, white form leaps into being then fades almost instantly. A rocky bed beside the river proper is covered with an inch or two of placid water, and the tube is set down here.
Scootaloo stretches out a bit after carrying the awkward luggage, then looks around, as if to make sure nobody is around. Then, with a devious smile, she opens up the small purse still carried. Her hand descends, then ascends, clutching a small brown bottle. To the three shocked faces before you, a massive grin responds, followed by a wild shout:
“Who’s ready to get waaaasted!?” Wait. What? In your bewilderment at the beer-toting Scootaloo and her apparent belief that it’s enough to get four people wasted, Scootaloo takes action. Her small hand clamps down on the lid, trying to rip it off. An awkward moment later and it’s screwed off. She presses the bottle to her lips, inciting you to action. A few brisk steps forward brings the bottle within arm’s reach, and you easily confiscate it. Faced with such a betrayal, Scootaloo lets loose a mighty whine:
“Awww come on!”
“Look, that’s really not a good idea.” You respond, commanded more by duty than by a reasonable objection.
“Why not?” She tries to take back the bottle from you, hitting you several times as you move it out of her grasping hand. Truth is, you can’t really think of a reason why this is a bad idea. It’s only one beer. Still, it doesn’t sit right with you. Thinking of what you should do, you come up with a compromise.
“Because you guys are way to young to be getting wasted,” you explain, banking on the delusion that this amount of alcohol will get anything wasted. “And I’d be letting down AJ if I were to just stand by.” A look around show the three girls are slightly disappointed, but without rebuttal. Now’s your chance to pick it up:
“However.” Their eyes light up with this. “I don’t see anything wrong with a swig each.” The lit up faces signal a partial return to coolness. Lined up before you, you pass the bottle to Sweetie Belle first. You wouldn’t think she’d be into that, but she’s looking pretty determined. She grasps the bottle in her hand, staring at it intensely. You’re alright with waiting for her to muster her courage, but Scootaloo doesn’t wait to egg her on.
“Come on, SB, don’t make us wait forever!” She doesn’t appear to respond immediately, instead continuing to stare at the bottle for another few seconds. Then, filled with determination, she nods then takes a huge pull. She manages to swallow, though her face contorts in disgust. She coughs a few times in another direction, thrusting the bottle away from her.
“Ack! Geez, that was way gross!” Seems Apple Bloom is next in line. Huh. You wonder why Scootaloo’s moved to the back, but only for a moment. Apple Bloom looks hesitant to drink, her gaze flickering from her friends and you to the bottle. She doesn’t stare at the bottle as Sweetie Belle had done, but more looked at her audience. Hoping she’s not feeling pressured or anything, you open your mouth to tell her it’s fine if she doesn’t. But before any words can cross your lips, she pulls the top to her mouth and throws it back. The effect is similar to Sweetie Belle, with a quick swallow followed by a hacking cough. She turns, grimacing, to her partner in suffering.
“Ah shoulda listened to you, Sweetie. That was awful.” Scootaloo grabs the bottle out of the offering hand, and with only a brief moment of hesitation, takes a long gulp. She takes much more beer than the others, judging by how long it stands upside down over her mouth, and has to gulp twice to het it all down. Her mouth contorts just a little, nowhere near as disgusted as the other girls, but you can tell she wasn’t a huge fan. As she speaks, her voice wavers with somewhat cloaked nausea:
“That was… uh… great!” The lie’s pretty obvious, but you don’t call her out on it. The bottle returns to your own hands, and a new problem presents itself. What do you do with it? It’s not as if there’s a trash out here or anything, and you can’t exactly keep it with you (what if you forget, and AJ finds it?). Geez, you don’t want to litter… Hopelessly, you turn to Scootaloo and the girls:
“I’m guessing there isn’t a trash anywhere near here.” She shakes her head.
“Nope. Unless we wanna go into somebody’s backyard.” That doesn’t sound so bad, but you remember the trashy village coating the forest. Being a wealthy city kid, you can’t differentiate between the kind or indifferent poor and the violent poor. For all you know, a step into a backyard is grounds for execution. Maybe that’s classist or something, but you aren’t taking any chances. Sensing your negative answer, Scootaloo takes the lead: “Just throw it anywhere, ‘cept in the river.”
“Yeah, but then it’s gonna look awful; I don’t wanna do that to this.” You wave your arm around the perfect scenery. Scootaloo shrugs.
“Well, bury it then.” You don’t like it, but it sounds like the only option left. You head to a little patch of dirt, and dig a small hole.
“Wait!” Sweetie Belle cries, the descending bottle tilting sideways to fit. “You can’t do that!”
“Can’t do what?”
“If you bury it like that, the beer’s gonna spill out!” You’re still unclear on the issue.
“Ok…” Her expression remains slightly panicked, hand still outstretched in a “stop” gesture.
“I just read that alcohol is really bad for the environment! If you dump that out there, nothing’s gonna grow for 10 years.” That sounds suspiciously like a flat out lie, and you raise your eyes skeptically. Scootaloo joins in with a gleeful smirk.
“Yeah, I read that too!” What’s she playing at? “We can’t pour any of it out!” Oh, now you get it.
“Scootaloo, you can’t have any more.” You reply flatly, to which a ridiculous exaggeration of innocence comes up. Eyes and mouth wide open in innocent shock and a hand pressed to her chest, she speaks in the voice of a criminal who’d never conceived of being caught.
“Whaaaat? Nooooo,” she shakes her head, the performance becoming ludicrous. “What I meant was, you’d better finish it off.” Oh wow, you didn’t expect that. You look at the unwanted booze, then to the three girls. Sweetie is nodding her head seriously, obviously buying into the plan, while Scootaloo is grinning wildly and nodding vigorously. Looking to AB, she shrugs her shoulders:
“Sounds like that’s the only thing to do.” The lack of inflection in her voice doesn’t tell you if she’s bought into Sweetie’s mistake or if she’s following Scootaloo. But faced with three cute girls asking you, your small ability to resist peer pressure is found wanting. You bring up the bottle, taking a moment to sigh before you try to chug it. A couple swallows pass before the urge to cough pushes the bottle away from your mouth. That out of the way, you set yourself to finishing it off. Man, the girls barely took any of it! Finally, the last of the bitter liquid burns through your throat, and you toss the empty bottle into the hole provided. Blech. You were never much of a beer guy, even if you’ve had it before. The familiar burning of your throat reminds you of why you tended to abstain.
The stares of the girls upon you only last a moment, being interrupted by the sound of the tube on the rocks. Apple Bloom turns, then speeds off. Only a second later the rest of you see the tube starting to move towards the stream proper, threatening to escape. Your cousin moves in an amber blur towards it, unconcerned with the wet rocks that hold her speeding feet. But safely she exits the slippery floor, through a grand leap onto the bloated figure eight. The craft sinks slightly under the thin frame, then bounces up, still continuing its wayward path. Three figures fly towards it, though more slowly, impaired by the safety concerns of the tallest. Little distance is made between their careful pursuit and the quickening raft. The float-bound girl reaches a heroic hand toward a rock, the head of which pierces the foaming lid of the river, trying to grab on. A slip carries it away, but another attempt is made upon the next. At this second skyward stone, the grip excels, but rather than anchor the ship, it serves only to pull her from it. Her torso moving slowly off the temporarily stopped escapee, she quickly releases the unhelpful pillar. Precious seconds are spent righting herself. As soon as her position is secured, she throws it away by leaping over the side. Two hands grab black handles atop it, while bare feet are tasked with anchoring. Successful, she takes steps towards bringing the captured prey to a less speedy zone. Patiently waiting for her troupe, she spies a nearby boulder with a promising grip. Grabbing it, she hoists herself back onto the raft and grips it, triumphant in keeping it still.
You and your protected companions arrive at the grinning Apple Bloom, the savior of the day. Noting the possibility of Apple Bloom losing, you direct the rest of the girls onto the boat.
“Come on guys, before it slips away again.” Unthinking, your boarding places you on the ring opposite Apple Bloom. Sweetie Belle climbs into the Bloom-inhabited ring, and Scootaloo leaps onto you. She scrambles for proper positioning, in the meanwhile slamming an elbow directly into the critical zone. Eyes bulge and hands fly to the injured groin, while you hold in a pained groan. Outside your small world of torment, you faintly catch the conversation of your agony-inflicting friend and your kin.
“Hey Bloom, ya don’t mind me sitting on your man, do ya?” A cocky voice comes. Apple Bloom scoffs a bit, not so jealous or so possessive as to deny her slightly heartbroken friend a favor.
“Not at all. But Ah’m gonna take him back in a bit.”
“Fine by me,” Scootaloo responds, with more relief in her voice than she wanted. She scoots back and forth, a somewhat bony butt not feeling so great on your upper legs and groin. Just as she gets comfortable, you lose your own comfort, and adjust yourself. Picking yourself and taking a more reclined position, the small girl is lifted too, yelping as she does so. Finally, the two of you find some comfortable position in the small space.
“Come on, let’s be off then.” You say, and Apple Bloom releases the held anchor. The heavier float takes a minute to move, but with a little push, you find yourself in the stream proper. It isn’t as fast as you’d thought when you’d been chasing your present seat. Or perhaps the river just slowed, if that’s a thing. You weren’t exactly versed on the physics of streams.
In any case, the drift was leisurely, a slow pull through the enchanted forest surrounding you. The cloud of trees surrounded you, reaching to the shockingly blue sky. Several clouds were present, leaving a mottled cloak in that light blue. The sun was covered by a single cloud, made marvelously vibrant by that infusion. As a result, only the indirect, reflected light made it through the great towers. You and the girls were touched by that soft light, a mellow illumination that made on think of those magical hours before the sun sank completely. It fell perfectly on the trim girls, each of them shining like starry attendants. They were suits of purple, red, and swirling pink and purple, each attached to the girl holding the matching hair color. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were lying side by side, arms cloaking each other in a lax hug. Thin, perfectly curving legs hung over the edge in a tangle, and their relaxed heads rested on the center. You found yourself a little jealous of the marshmallow Crusader, being so closely tied to your Apple Bloom. Your position was much the same as her, mirrored with Scootaloo. Only instead of being side-by-side with your companion, she laid on top of you. Your head rested on the center, not too far from Apple Bloom’s, while Scootaloo rested on your shoulder.
Your resting head moves upwards, settling its gaze on Apple Bloom. Her gaze was already fixed on you, kind eyes drawing you in. A smile crosses your face at that perfect girl, which she returns. She’s too far to kiss, and the girl on you prevents any small motion. You could push her off, but that’d be rude. In the middle of devising a means of kissing, Apple Bloom once again demonstrates the synchronicity between both of you. Her soft hand extricates itself and moves to her lips, which kiss the tips of her pointer and middle finger. The two extended fingers then move over to your mouth, alighting on lips which receive the kiss. You can’t help but grin widely at the sign of affection as she returns her fingers to her own lips, to take the kiss you’d given.
You manage to move a hand over to the center, while she does the same. Comfortably resting, with hands clasping and then intertwined, the next few minutes pass in a peaceful bliss. Soon, the sun escapes from its cloudy prison, its full light blazing down on you. It’s pleasant; not so much the sight, but the noticeable warmth it offers. You yawn and stretch, not unlike the lazy motions of a well-pleased cat. Just as you’re settling back into a comfortable position, Scootaloo’s voice comes softly to your ear.
“Hey, Anon.”
“Sup?”
“I need your help putting some sunscreen on.” Her voice is noticeable quieter than before, the question seeming honest. You look over to Apple Bloom, who’d heard the question. The smile perfecting her face remains, and you see a small nod. You’re not a huge fan of those guys that have to get permission, but you don’t want to hurt Apple Bloom, and this might be one of those things. But she seems fine with it, even encouraging you.
“Uh, yeah sure.”
“Really?” Again, the question lacks the bluster and sarcasm, one of which is almost always found in her speech. Maybe she was actually needing this; you didn’t know her backstory, or really very much besides the facts that she lived in a slum and seemed slightly more interested in you than other people did. Still, it was given the OK, and you did like this girl. She was pretty fun to hang out with, and if there was something you could do for you, why not?
“Yeah. Where’s the sunscreen?” The middle compartment opens up, and Scootaloo fishes out a small bottle of suntan lotion.
“You sure you got that right?” You ask, not sure of the difference between suntan lotion and sunscreen.
“Yeah? It’s sunscreen.”
“Well, it says suntan lotion.”
“Well, that’s what we packed, so that’s what we’re gonna use.” Still uncertain, you take it just as she flips herself over. She’s facing down now, head resting on the centerpiece while her legs are curled up and resting on the edge. Her back is face up, directly over your lap. Before you start, you notice something that wasn’t there on the pool day. Two tracings of thin black wings, located on each shoulder blade, both spread out and rendered in surprisingly skillful detail.
“Hey Scoots, what’re these?” She turns her head so the left side is lying on the middle, where her right eye can see you out of its corner. Already having committed to relaxing, her voice is almost sleepy.
“Mm-what? Oh. Yeah, I was talkin’ ‘bout tattoo ideas with my sister last night, and I decided on some wings. Pinkie was there, ‘an she offered to do some for me.” Both the other girls are staring at her back too, obviously sharing your ignorance.
“Wow, that’s so cool!” exclaims Sweetie Belle.
“Sure is,” agrees Apple Bloom.
“Yeah, I’m pretty psyched about it. She took a picture so I could show it to the artist.” Her eyes close, some lost sleep apparently catching up with her. Noting her gradual fade from the scene, the other two girls immerse themselves in a conversation concerning Pinkie’s heretofore unknown artistic ability. Scootaloo shifts a few times and you worry a few times when her elbows move a little too close to your groin. But she comes out comfy and you come out un-elbowed, so everyone on this side of the float is happy.
Taking the bottle, you squirt a small amount onto your hands and rub them together, a mild coating present. You start at the area closest to you, the right side of her back. Two hands come down, the cool liquid sending a shiver through your subject. You send your hands apart, moving to the upper and lower-right of Scootaloo’s back. Fingers splay as they move out and come back together as they return to the center, just to add a little variety to the massage (and after all, that’s really what these things are about). For the same reason, your hands start slowly turning, your fingers 45 degrees inward on their outward motion, then 45 degrees outward on the converse. After a minute, you turn the motions wider, making circles over her back. Hands are now pointing towards each other on the middle-right of her back, then move to the middle left side, followed by small swirls back to the starting position.
Here and then you squirt a bit of lotion where you’ve missed or put it on lightly, pressing harder on these areas in order to hurry the rate of absorption. To be honest, you kind of wished she was facing away from you, instead of having her back horizontally placed on your lap. It made left-right synchronicity difficult, and upper-lower synchronicity was far less meaningful. So instead of trying to paint patterns with one hand and reflect or mirror them with the other, you take inspiration from Pollock: just random stuff in random places. As the intricate motions continued, still with a hint of artful design, you found yourself hoping Apple Bloom would see you. You’re tempted to check, but maintain the urge, staying focused on tracing intricate patterns on Scootaloo’s back.
You can feel the curve of her back, tracing it with one hand all the way up to her neckline, the back down with the other. Her back moves slightly with each deep breath. In your slower movements, you can even feel the faint vibrations that follow her sigh of contentment. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the you-ward stare of your younger cousin looking at your hands, an almost hungry look in that solid gaze. Suddenly, this much treatment feels a bit odd, so you finish up those untouched place right quick, then declare the end.
“Alright, I think I got it.” You receive a happy groan in response, the purple-haired girl doing her best to sit up and stretch in the small space.
“Ah’ll say!” Apple Bloom comments, somewhat breathlessly. “Ah’m next!” You get the notion that your plan worked. The red-clad girl tries to get up while the purple-clad girl does the same. Both are on their knees before the center, attempting to switch sides without putting two much weight on one side. They start forward several times, then back up quickly when the rocking raft threatens their dryness. Their eyes lock, plans forming like rabbit babies in their minds.
“Here, let’s-“ Scootaloo starts, reaching for Apple Bloom’s hands. Hands meet, and slowly they rise, conjoining the two girls. It isn’t clear to you what they’re thinking, but it’s the same thing, that’s for sure. Perfectly synchronized, each lifts up their left leg and slowly brings it over to the other side. Shifting torsos, both girls are now sitting on top of the centerpiece with legs in both camps. Slowly they try to rise once more, in order to get the other leg over, and to complete the transferring of spots. The water isn’t moving too fast, and luckily there are no rocks; nevertheless, you worry for both girls’ safety. Your worries come to awful fruition when Sweetie takes that moment to adjust herself, the temporary change of weight distribution causing the side opposite you to sink just a little bit. Scootaloo’s hands, near you, immediately grasp onto your immovable shoulders, steadying herself. Apple Bloom’s hands are near no such mount, and they flail wildly before she falls backwards into the water.
“Shit!” You shout, jerking forward. The sudden noise and worry blocks your conscious to the second splash. At the edge of the inner tube, you stop yourself, realizing the problem is a very minor one. Apple Bloom surfaces in no time, adjusting her displaced top and laughing. Her wet hair falls over her shoulders and face, and she corrects the latter inconvenience. She swims up to your side, now conspicuously Scootaloo-free. Your turn backwards, and find a similarly drenched Scootaloo spitting some water off to the side. She looks over to Sweetie Belle right before the inner tube smacks her head. One small arm reachs up the downstream side and yanks the rest of her body up. Scooting in close to her bestie, she levels a withering look towards her. Sweetie Belle returns with a nervous laugh.
“heh heh heh…?” Surprisingly. Scootaloo takes it up.
“Hah ha ha ha!” Seeing that her sins are forgiven, the initiator laughs a little more confidently.
“Ha ha ha ha ha ha!
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Right as Sweetie Belle begins to get suspicious, Scootaloo leans back, then extends her arms, pushing Sweetie right out of the inner tube. Her shrill cry is cut short by her inundation, all but a flailing hand falling beneath the rippling water. Beneath the white residue of the splash, her form can be seen, distorted by the chaotic currents. The almost-foam disappears, the progeny of a splash never knowing long life, and the blurry image of an angry Sweetie Belle comes into full view. The clearness of the water does not last, however. Sweetie Belle leaps up out of the waiting, a great gasp tearing through the giggling atmosphere. Wiping great strands of interspersed pinks from her eyes, Sweetie Belle gives her bestie a mean eye, the kind you’d never expect from such a pretty girl.
“Oh, it is on!” she says, an attempted shout ruined by the squeaky rage and a mortifying crack on the final word. She strides towards the pathetic escape of your slow-moving raft, unable to run in the thigh-deep water.
“Oh no!” Scootaloo laughs, in that particular tone belonging to someone both having fun and foreseeing a comic vengeance. The deep awaited her, and she knew it. She scrambles back as far as she can, which really isn’t very far. She sits on the far end of the tube, almost flipping her side over, then hastily leans forward to avoid such a fate. But the thin escape provided a valuable scheme for Sweetie Belle, who saw a way to recreate it. Scootaloo, mind adrenalized by her near dive, did not see how the information could be used against her. Instead, she only sat ready for Sweetie on that end, awaiting the only recourse she could think of: Sweetie climbing on and pushing her off, the same motions she herself had done. But the preparations to keep Sweetie off came short when Sweetie Belle grabbed the nearest edge of the tube, the side opposite to Scootaloo’s, and heaved it upwards. Up the tube tilted, Scootaloo’s tube approximately 70 degrees in the air, and yours’ and Apple Bloom’s only about 30 (the length of the craft didn’t allow for a full translation of the tilt). As a result, you and your guest needed only to grab tightly to each other and the handles to stave off the terrible plunge.
Scootaloo was far from lucky, and was tipped off, open mouthed, in seconds. A short “Waa!” erupted from the chaotic non-fruit side, cut off by a loud splash. The mirrored effect of Sweetie’s plight brought a grin to the agent of justice, who then tried to climb in. She grabbed both handles and hoisted one leg over the inflated border. But no sooner had her slipper foot touched the inner edge than, for reasons unseen, she let out a fierce cry.
“AHHH!” She tilted her head back to let out the mighty squeak. She then dipped down a few inches, as if something beneath pulled her. The whole scene evoked a horror-movie feel, with the beautiful girl being horrified as something beneath yanked her unsafe leg. She clung madly to the handles, desperately trying to fight off the underwater pull. Fearfully, she managed to stay, though the tube threatened to turn over in her direction. The pull subsided, and she gained a few inches in height as the natural float prevailed. Gasping breaths blew water droplets off the interior as she rested. Then a spiky bomb of purple flew up behind her, the necessary intake of air preceding a warlike bellow:
“HUUUUUUHHH- YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” Tan arms reached upwards, as if to pierce the heavens, as their owner rocketed upwards. Then, as her descent began, both arms fell onto the screaming victim, clutching her body. The sopping monster clung tightly to her, trying to pull the girl away from the tube and into a watery demise.
“NONONONONONO-“ came the marshmellow lady’s howl, her tight cling not lasting against the might of Scootaloo. For a moment, hope shone through when the plain tug didn’t work. But tan legs soon arose and pressed feet against the side, the extension of which then propelled the mess of terror and pink into a shock of white spray. The tangle of friends had long sent you and your Apple into hysterics, both of you not expecting the show. Two hair-covered heads arose from the water, ceasing their battle to look at the laughing cousins. One looks at the other, who nods, and they both silently move towards the previously safe duo. A falsetto speaks from behind a curtain of pinks:
“Something funny?” The sudden attention of the voice and the veiled threat seizes your attentions, blinding you to the disappeared partner. You’ve come to sit crisscross, like a Buddha statue, with your arms around Apple Bloom, whose legs fall over your right side and whose arms have clung to your neck, unlike a Buddha statue. You feel her arms constrict, as she tremblingly replies, in that same half-jocular, half-nervous tone from before.
“Uh, no sir! Not at all!” But the laughter remains in Apple Bloom, breaking forth in an unhidden “pffft!” Your accuser’s pale hand peels back the curtain, a pair of happily menacing eyes fully stopping Apple Bloom’s humor. You try to bring the threatening party over to your side of things.
“Come on, Sweetie, it was kind of funny.” She shakes her head and gives little, quick nods.
“Oh yeah. Real funny.” She moves forward as she speaks, a small expression of malevolent joy growing on her face. With all your efforts spent on not appearing as terrified as you are, you fail to be properly aware of your situation. Only when her hands rise and surreptitiously grasp the handles do you begin to feel as alarmed as you ought to be. “You know what else is?” Your alarm comes too late: before you can make any securing motions, her hands push down with all her force. Behind you, Scootaloo had pushed upwards, the two motions using the combined weight against you. Sweetie almost moves out of the way, but her left arm is subject to the tumbling mass of you and Apple Bloom.
Underwater, you’re blind to her shaking the pain from her arm, caught up in a flash of colors. They fade quickly as you shut your eyes against the uncomfortable touch of the river. Vestibular senses completely out of order, you feel an acute sense of panic as your spatial awareness disappears entirely. There’s water, some skin, and a rock touching you, and that’s about the sum of your knowledge of the world about. Gradually, the spinning stops (though it was only one rotation, it feels like twenty) and external knowledge grows. The slippery rocks under your feet, the departing grip of a lost hug, and a whole lotta wet. Pushing yourself up, your upper body escapes the watery atmosphere. Water rushes off of your body, passing its grip on you to a sudden chill of the cold air. You suck in new air, then cry out as your arms cling to your cold chest.
“Ahhh!” A moment passes, and the temperature returns to a more reasonable degree. Besides you is a similarly emerging Apple Bloom, who mirrors your gasp. Her hair is clings to her face, the only unfortunate aspect about those beautiful strands of rose, now made a dark crimson by the moisture. You look around, quickly finding the figure eight not too far downstream. Two girls occupy the two seats, both crisscross and with supporting elbows on their knees and hands on their chins. They watch you, grinning, feeling safe in their lofty perches. Apple Bloom shakes her head, then brings her hair to rest on her shoulders, sight regained.
She looks to you, a call to vengeance in that playful determination. You nod, reading her intention, then kneel down and gesture to your shoulders. She lights up as your plan is understood, then climbs aboard. She climbs aboard, thighs resting on your shoulders and legs dangling over your shimmering bod. Standing up, Apple Bloom clears the water line, and points towards the now worried girls.
“FRIENDSHIP FUSION TEN: ASSAULT CHICKEN!” she screams, and you hide a chuckle in your serious business face. Attagirl. You walk forward, not too fast –gotta keep your pilot safe- but quickly enough to gain on the enthroned opponents. Sweetie Belle actually looks alarmed, her hands grasping at the safety promising handles. Scootaloo looks happy, the joy of battle clear in her earnest grin. She too grasps the handles, but only with one hand: the other is cocked and ready to grapple. Naturally, you pick the former, her being an easier target. Your march slowly brings you to the tube-bound girl, and you slow a bit, keeping pace with her craft. A foot from her, you shout your intentions, both to comply with the theme your team has taken and to give Apple Bloom a heads up.
“BATTLE ATTACK TWELVE! APPLES FROM THE SKYYYY!” Immediately, you fall forward, bringing a detaching Apple Bloom onto Sweetie. The last thing you hear before your head falls underwater is the battle-cry of your jockey mixing with the scream of your target. This time you recover more quickly, keeping your balance as you rise to the surface. You see a mess of teenage girl tangling in the small space, and the small part of you not dedicated to the campaign wondering why mud-wrestling is a sport and inner-tube showdowns aren’t. Realizing there’s little you can do in the Belle-Bloom struggle, you turn your attention towards Scootaloo.
Her eyes are glued to the nearby thrashing, and so don’t immediately notice your approach. She does catch you before you get too close, dissolving your plans of a sneak attack. Immediately, she shifts position, moving her body to a less moveable position, and arms ready to parry yours. Still you move closer, laying your hands on the rim and leaning in. She responds by placing flat hands on your chest and pushing. What folly! Expecting this, your hands were ready to reach up and grab her wrists. Doing so, you allow her momentum to bring you back, using your weight to add to the momentum. Her push and your pull combined, you succeed in wrenching her partway out of her seat, an alarmed shout telling of your partial success. Tilted back, the water cushions your momentum, stopping with her only partly out of the tube. You quickly muster some balance and pull again, taking advantage of her precarious position and moving all but the lower part of her legs out of the seat. With her center of gravity out, she falls into the water, the close proximity to the water resulting in a small splash.
Naturally, you join her underneath, having spared no effort to keep yourself above. Your short intake of air lasts a moment, but not long enough to stay for more than a few seconds. You rise to the surface, only to see a Scootaloo already waiting for you. In your terror you suck in some breath, not having enough time to fortify your position as hands push you back under. Not ready to give her any more time than you can, you immediately thrust yourself skywards, arms outstretched and ready for grappling. Your hands collide with hers, and you lock arms. Both parties push with all their might, but your greater strength is negated by the lack of solid position and the inability to find one. Every time your feet get close to finding a solid position, you pushes, or pulls, keeping you from finding it. Darn, this girl is good. You try your previous tactic, trying to use the force of her push to bring you both down, but she’s ready. She moves along with you, but positions herself on top of your falling body, mounting you while you go underwater.
Her legs clamp on both sides of you, her torso upright. The water reaches up her chest as you sink, but her head remains above. A handful of plans surge through your head, but none of them are found acceptable. The only potentially successful responses you can think of will take much more energy than you have. Not exactly a super fit person, your stores of energy are depleted much faster than you’d like. Your body goes limp as you signal your surrender, the triumphant girl hopping backwards. To secure the point and dodge any more attacks, you raise your hands as you emerge, open-palmed in a secondary gesture of surrender. You cough, then verbalize it.
“Alright, I surrender.” You try not to gasp as you speak, and succeed in holding back the sign of exhaustion until you finish. She grins, then raises her hands in victorious fists. Her eyes close in jubilation, a guttural
“WOOOO!” exiting. She turns to the inner tube, greeted by a cheer from Sweetie Belle, who formed peace with Apple Bloom already. Apple Bloom offers you a comforting glance, a respectful “you did good” in her eyes. You’re glad you didn’t completely let her down. As you and your water-bound friend approach the dryer party, Scootaloo asks them:
“Who won?” Sweetie Belle looks away, pretending to notice something interesting. Apple Bloom beams, proud of the truth that turned away her friend.
“Ah did!” She announces the circumstances of her speedy victory, the wrestling ability of the farm girl exceeding that of the pampered fashionista. A few deft moves and a near fall had prompted Sweetie to surrender soon after you’d pulled her partner off. Scootaloo doesn’t seem too upset at this, and claps her hand on Sweetie’s shoulder.
“S’alright, I made up for you.” About to climb in the circle opposite that shared by Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, the latter calls out.
“Hold on a minute!” One leg awkwardly in, she cuts her climb short.
“What?”
“Ya already got your turn with Anon.” Apple Bloom gets halfway up and starts moving towards the circle Scoots is about to get into. “An Ah still need some a’ that sunscreen treatment.” Scootaloo raises her eyebrows, and huffs good-naturedly.
“Sure, sure.” She takes her leg out and moves over to Sweetie Belle’s side, crawling over the side. Sweetie Belle, who’d dried off a bit, is set upon by her partner’s soaking form. The cold water renders the sun’s work pointless, making the girl cry out.
“Ahh! Cold!” Scootaloo only laughs and snuggles up to her, the small space a perfect excuse to get her friend thoroughly wet. Amid the continued shouts of the poor girl, you look at your future tube-mate. She grins at you, while her open arms invite you in. You return the happy expression, looking forward to the lotion-application as much as her. Climbing aboard, you mirror Scootaloo’s effect, though your shipmate doesn’t seem as upset as her counterpart. Laughing happily as you reach each other, you hug briefly. Then, fumbling a bit, you position yourselves as Scootaloo and you had before, with you crisscrossed on the black net that formed a floor of the tube, and her laid out on your lap, facedown.
The scene before you is gorgeous. The slow, lingering ride through the river, especially with your Bloom resting quietly on your chest is nothing less than divine. The sky is a clear blue, with white clouds speckled throughout the otherwise perfect hue. To the front and the right side of you are close mountains, covered in a thick fur of evergreens. The vibrancy of the colors is almost shocking; the large side of the covering is a thick green, ranging from a deep emerald to an almost lime, based on where the light can pass unobstructed by billowing clouds. Some of the trees lack that color, leaving dark browns and yellows where death and premature falls have altered it. Where the hills aren’t covered, mostly towards the top, is the purest amber, like America’s waves of grain. It has a bare, balding sort of look, only singular patches of trees scattered through the sparse summit.
The smell is indescribable, that fresh scent that only nature has. It’s not clear where it comes from, if it’s one plants, many, or just the absence of a man-made world. But wherever that scent comes from, it blesses your nose, and you breathe in deeply. A contented sigh exits, a smile reaching up the sides of your face. The air here is clear, easy to breathe. It’s not something you really notice, but each lungful feels fresher, holding more oxygen than the impeded breaths of your home, which, looking back, felt like a house filled with smog. You thought of a man nearly drowning at sea, then being saved, and swallowing great snatches of air, more precious than anything else. Perhaps you weren’t quite as desperate, but the simple enjoyment of the cool, delicious air was satisfying in a way you’d never thought air could be.
Trees crawled up to the sky on every side, nearer at the right and left portions than that in front of you. The twisting path didn’t offer a clear view of the end, but rather a field of wild goliaths signaling an impending turn. The water remains low, but not too much that the water didn’t crash into foaming waves at directional changes and junctions. The mostly clear water, with occasional patches of white, not unlike the sky above. Dark rocks could be seen below, along with the infrequent fish. The feeling of being summoned to some snowglobe-like enclosure, a small part of nature kept safe from the encroaching grasp of man, was made complete when a small deer strolled to the middle of some shallow part and leapt the rest of the way over the river. At this, Apple Bloom rockets upward, nearly tumbling off, to point and shout:
“Didja see that!?” She looks to you excitedly, that beaming smile never to get old. You nod with the quiet happiness of a more wearied person, but still touched by that infectious joy.
“I did.” She sits down, trying to find a comfortable position. You shift with her, and in the shuffle, you find yourself in curled up with your head on her chest. She’s curled up towards you, with her arms falling along your back. In this place, she doesn’t move, and you’re glad for it. It wouldn’t be your first suggestion, but once you’d begun, lying with your head just above her perfect breasts was somehow irresistible. The dry fabric of the swimsuit was an unwelcome juxtaposition to the otherwise soft and warm skin of your girl, but… Hmm.
Realizing that you could find a solution, your re3ach your hand up and grab the material, flipping it down. You look up to make sure it isn’t uncomfortable for her, and her thankful expression tells you she’s just as alright with it as you are. Lying down once more, you feel the soft texture of her breasts against your lower face as you close your eyes. You don’t rub into them or anything; right now, you just want to relax on the best pillow in the world. There’s a small thumping, and you realize it’s her heartbeat. It maintains a steady rhythm, slightly decreasing after the initial excitement of exposing herself to you. Thump-thump-thump. Those soft, repetitive beats hold your attention close, the rest of the world quietly fading out. And after a few minutes, you’re fast asleep in the arms of Apple Bloom.
On the other side of the tube, the audience had watched with open-mouthed gapes at Apple Bloom’s overt exposure. The moment she’d asked permission to flash Anon, heads lazily fallen on the tube’s edge had snapped up at the entirely unforeseen plan. True, Apple Bloom had gone topless with them before, but there was a boy here! And she was in her lap! And although no other answer could be expected, the barely discernible “sure,” had opened their mouths to unheard-of circumferences. Just as they had thought the situation partially defused by their crushing friend’s placement (facing downward was much less…hot), the massage had begun. Sweetie Belle’s breath had stopped, then continued in heavy, halted breaths. Scootaloo, distracted from her failure of her halfhearted plan to snatch up Anon, mimicked the girl next to her, with one major difference. As the massage continued, the intricate patterns more fully realized and their friend’s occasional moan becoming more audible, Scootaloo bit her lip, and her hand started sneaking its way down into her bottom. Noticing this, the light-skinned girl gasped and slapped the hand from the lascivious friend, though the same thought had occurred to her. Several more times Scootaloo’s hand had to be kept from her own places. Sweetie Belle had to wipe away the slightest of nosebleeds at the kiss, and was unable to silence Scootaloo’s loudening breaths. Luckily, the boy and girl in the seat beside were so entranced with each other that they didn’t seem to notice. Shortly after, the pink and purple haired party lied down on their own end, in positions that implied sleep. They might have fallen into such, or stayed awkwardly awake at the slightly lewd playfulness in the starboard side, had not vivid fantasies filled the heads of both closed-eyed girls.
A gentle rocking, followed by a tender pat on the head, brought Anon back to the world. The three girls were conversing happily, as if nothing had happened. It would have been a perfect showing, had not the eyes of Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle not kept moving back to your sleepy self. Apple Bloom, tragically clothed, patted you once more, then pointed to the shore.
“That’s where we’re goin’ tomorrow!” You don’t understand. Your tired reply eventually comes:
“W-what? Where we goin’ again?” She chuckles at the cute mumblings.
“To the vineyard, remember? Our neighbor told us that she could use some help crushin’ grapes tomorrow, and we could even keep some grape juice after!” Were you ever told about this? It seems to ring a bell, but you can’t find the moment. Not that it really matters.
“Oh yeah, cool.” Your head’s found its way onto her lap, where her hands absent-mindedly brush through your hair. Her fingers are graceful and gentle as they flow through your hair, the fingers running along the head beneath. Losing yourself in the feeling, you don’t pay attention to Apple Bloom’s attempt to point something oput and the other two girls shushing her immediately. Not hearing that it’s a secret and no boys allowed, you tilt your head upwards to a sorrowfully nodding Apple Bloom. All you’re comprehending is the mild unhappiness of her disappointment, and you reach out a hand to caress her face. Stroking her ample cheeks, which have just the right amount of chubbiness (enough to be seen without making the face appear fat), you smile lazily. She returns the expression, your happiness at touching her all she needs to brush off the disappointment. A moment passes, and a clearing in the tree-filled lining appears. In it is a van, the same that brought you up here.
A shock of fear bolts through you, an anxious untangling from Apple Bloom following. The realization that there still isn’t anything to fear from Applejack hits you moments later, bringing a dim regret over the lost few seconds of cuddling. Several shouts and waves from the girls are given to the van, which offers no response. The silent port confuses you, but doesn’t faze Scootaloo or Sweetie, both of which have already hopped out and scrambled to port. Sweetie’s department was almost immediate and speedy, but Scootaloo’s was a little slower, and maintaining a short gaze at the two remaining shipmates. Masking her desire to be part of that cozy group, she hollers a summoning, and waves her hand in a “come on” gesture.
“Come on!” Apple Bloom grants you one last hug, her backwards moving head hesitating on the exit. Sadly deciding not to kiss, you stare at each other for a quick moment. Her shining eyes still maintain that mysterious aspect of vitality, as if they were so mythical, curing fountain. Drinking deep of their waters, you smile at the jubilant girl, who beams at the attention. Her lashes are light but thick, the delicate whispers of colors flashing in the light as she blinks. Her cheeks protrude slightly as her pearly whites greet your welcoming eyes, reminding you of the ruddy-faced smiles of those children kept safe from worldly wisdom. You lean in slowly, tilting you head to place a gentle kiss on her cheek. A blush fills that perfect face, while both hearts beat furiously.
The two of you exit your ship, almost causing it to tip over on both parties when all the weight fell on the edge. A dull crash follows its descent to its proper place on the water, and you begin pulling it to shore. Apple Bloom meets up with the crouched partners ahead, her question concerning their position shushed. They put pointer fingers to their lips, indicating the need for silence. A small hullabaloo occurs when you land your ship, and eyes bug out while the gesture is directed towards you. The girls, unappreciative of the docking, wave at you to join them beside the still unmoving van. They’re on their feet, almost sitting on their heels, by the driver’s side door.
“What’s up?” you whisper to them. Sweetie Belle turns her face up to you, which is a little too close for comfort. Feeling the same way, she leans back a bit, then informs you of the situation. Apple Jack’s sleeping, a hat over her eyes and a half-read book flopped down on her lap. Guess she’d been here a while. Anyway, the plan was to spook her; two girls would jump up and bang on her window, while another would bang on the passenger’s side. You know, for surround-sound. You were tasked with jumping up on the very small hood, slapping the window and yelling; this would be the signal for the other girls. Thinking twice about terrifying your second-favorite cousin, you make the hard decision to favor comedy over comfort. Scootaloo crosses to the other side, and you move in front of the van. Wait, was this safe? Ah well, too late to turn back now. You leap up far, blanketing the thin hood with your torso, granting your arms enough reach to bang on the window. At the small thump of your body on the car, the other girls leap up, ready, while AJ stirs slightly.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUGGHH!”
“WOOOOOOOOOUUUGGH”
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!”
“BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” The four of you shout in unison, while pounding hands on the vehicle. AJ leaps up in her chair, as much as she’s able to, and lends her own cry to the noise. Her face assumes a horrified visage, qualifying her for a place in horror movies, while her hand grasps her hat in an attempt to keep it from falling.
“AAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” As she settles back into her seat, shock turning into a pouting menace, you and your squad of trouble-makers laugh heartily. AJ sees that your body still remains on the hood, and sends a heavy feeling to your stomach with the devious grin. Uh oh. Her hands slam on the horn, the screaming F# filling your poor ears. You hurl yourself off the front, tripping on a rock behind you. As your butt heartily greets the ground, your hands clasp over your ears. The horn soon subsides, and you stand up, rubbing a slightly harmed posterior as you do so. You find yourself the target of a foursome’s laughter, and begin to feel empathy for AJ’s previous plight. Exaggerating your pain, you glare at the lot of them, who have begun to file into the van.
Scootaloo takes the front seat, while the three remaining enter the middle. Apple Bloom sits in the left, followed by you, then Sweetie Belle on the right. They continue their laughs, now quiet chuckles, as AJ shifts into reverse, and begins the exit. Apple Bloom combats your harrumph and crossed arms with a close hug, the good-natured appeal melting even the pretense of grouchiness. You hug her in return, then tilt your head back in exhaustion.
“Anybody wanna get that tube? I’d like to take it back.” AJ announces, stopping the car. You groan, knowing the task would fall to you and your racked reserves. The three in the back hop out, though yours is more of a tumble, and walk to the bright figure eight by the water. Letting the air out of it takes a minute, and you sit on a rock to wait it out. Not following your example, the energetic girls fall upon it, rolling around over it. They giggle as they do so, looking like the kids who’d stick their legs together and arms to their sides and roll down grassy hills. Not having that much space, these two only roll back and forth. They seem to be having the same kind of fun as those kids, though how much help they’re giving to the displacement of air is questionable. You watch them from the sidelines, with the feeling of a parent who watches those kids, holding a certain joy of witnessing that kind of life. Once the air is almost all out, you work to roll it up, then tuck the rumpled mess under your arm. You drop it into the back of the van, the door to which happily opened by Apple Bloom. Grinning at the girl, so eager to please, the three outsiders enter the van once more. You slouch into your seat once more, happily sighing as you relax into the thick, carpet-like covering. AJ’s voice comes from the front:
“So, y’all were out a lot longer than I’d figured. So how’d y’all like to eat out?”
“Wow, is it dinnertime already?” Sweetie asks, not knowing where the time had gone. Then again, none of you really did. Looking out the window, you can see the dim tones of an impending sunset.
“Yeah, we got kind of a late start.”
“Sure doesn’t feel that late,” says a partially perplexed Apple Bloom, looking at you.
“Probably all that time you guys spent sleeping,” pipes Scootaloo.
“We didn’t sleep that much!” You respond.
“How would you know?” asks Scootaloo, voicing the question that had only just entered your head. You don’t reply, instead sinking into your seat once more, under the spell of some mysterious sleepiness.
“So where we goin’?” AJ interrupts, as stores enter your vision.
“Dairy Queen!” Scootaloo shouts immediately, the hope for such long held in her mind. The rest of the group drops a drawn-out:
“Ehhh,” followed by Sweetie Belle’s argument.
“Their food isn’t very good.” Everyone but Scootaloo agrees with this, and Sweetie Belle, still holding the platform, offers up an alternative. “How about Sonic’s?” Sonic’s? It sounds familiar, but you don’t think you’ve ever been there.
“What’s that?” She turns to you, excitedly describing her favorite fast food place:
“It’s like a drive-in, and they roller skate your food out to you!” She continues describing some of their specials, but you don’t listen closely to these. Fast food pretty much all tastes the same, but this particular gimmick sounds kind of cool to you.
“Sure, I’d be up for that.” Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle cheer at the majority vote, while Scootaloo grumbles in the front. AJ nods, then takes a quick left. In just a minute, the car brings you to your destination, the typical gaudy markings of fast food advertising shining through the windows. The van pulls up into one of these horizontal driveway-things with a huge menu on either side. You set yourself up with some Coney Island hot dogs, while the girls order various burgers. Before you’re finished, Apple Bloom elbows you.
“We gotta get ice cream, remember?” Oh yeah. You’d forgotten about your plans from yesterday; it wasn’t with her alone, but it’d have to do. Ignoring the pit in your stomach, arising from the unnamable thoughts about why you wouldn’t have time to do this alone, you order a hefty milkshake. Peanut butter and fudge: heck yeah. A chirping, slightly robotic voice tells you that she’ll be right out, and the lot of you climb into the back of the van. There’s a lot of empty space there, even with the mess of a deflated tube covering the bottom, enough for all five of you to sit with adequate space. As you’re climbing over your seat, you feel a firm smack of your hind quarters; you think Apple Bloom, but she’s already mostly in the back. By the time you can turn back to look, all three girls behind you wear innocent masks with barely hidden snickers. You blow some air out of your mouth, muttering:
“Girls.” You sit down next to Apple Bloom, with Sweetie Belle soon joining you on your right. On the other side of the van is AJ and Scootaloo, who sit cross-legged. AJ opens up the back door, letting in a rush of cool evening air and yellow-orange light. Your sweetest cousin lifts her eyes to the sky above, the light from above shining on her beautiful face. You turn towards Sweetie Belle, who looks blankly at you, as if searching for something.
“What’s up, SB?” You ask, feeling as if you ought to try to connect with her. You’ve been focusing almost entirely on your Apple Bloom, and the remaining attention has been spent on the purple-haired girl. The latter just kept pushing her way into your line of sight, so you didn’t really get a chance to speak with the shyer girl. From what you’ve seen, she seems pretty nice, and you kinda feel like you should get to know her better. At your question, she shakes her head a bit, as if she were lost in thought.
“Oh, uh- nothing. Just hanging out. In the back of a van.” She sounds kinda nervous, as if she wasn’t expecting you to talk to her. Which she wasn’t: she’d assumed partly through the tube trip that whenever you were around, all attention would be drawn either to you or the new couple. There was a small pang of jealousy for the spotlight: Apple Bloom and Scootaloo had the crush, and it was you. Feeling left out, she’d tried not to blame you, after a thin spurt of guilt made her go back on a wish that you’d go. As a result, she’d been left almost aimless, not wanting to be mad at feeling left out, but not knowing what she could do instead. It’s a little awkward.
“Cool, cool. That ride was pretty fun.” She looks off into the distance.
“Yeah, I thought it’d never end.” Suddenly she realizes the surfacing of the latent bitterness, and doubles back. Her eyes widening and her mouth open, she tries to move in a different direction. “Scootaloo and Apple Bloom really seemed to like those massages you gave.” You nod, feeling like there’s something you’re missing here.
“Yeah, I’m alright at it.” AJ and Scootaloo have started talking interestingly about something or other; you catch wind of a few comments about sports and next year. Somewhere along the line, Apple Bloom’s scooted up to them, joining their conversation. You and Sweetie Belle are left alone, similar to that little bubble you’d shared with your golden princess earlier, though without the comfort. Still, the semi-isolation does allow for a deeper question you wanted to ask. Still a bit nervous about it, you take a moment before deciding to go through with it:
“Sweetie, did I do something wrong?” She looks taken aback, a clear answer coming before any words.
“No, nothing like that. It’s just…” she looks up at you, and seeing your soft look, decides there’s no reason to keep it secret. Staying hidden was never her passion anyway. “I dunno, I kinda felt left out. I guess.” She looks over to the trio of girls, hoping her words didn’t reach them. She’s not looking for a big deal about this right now. They remain entranced by Scootaloo’s future soccer career, and you remain looking gently at her. You understand what she meant.
“That’s not what I meant,” she replies to your hesitant offer to give her a massage as well. She look at her two best friends, chuckling as she does so, then turns back to you. “Sorry, but I don’t feel the same way they do.
“That’s cool with me. That’d be pretty awkward for everyone if you did.” She snorts, imagining the dramatic scene, which would probably be really awful if it happened in real life. Then her face becomes serious again for a minute.
“I don’t want you to think I want you gone or anything, I really don’t. It’s just, you’re kind of all they talk about right now.” You try not to smile at that, enjoying the grand compliment that it was. After some difficulty, you do achieve your sympathy once more, and try to make the situation better.
“I’m sorry about that. But it’s gonna pass, you know. That kind of thing doesn’t last forever.” Sweetie nods her head, more able to believe the truth now that you’ve stated it.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Seeing that her mood is rising, you see an opportunity to keep improving it.
“Why don’t we just take a step away from all this? Tell me about yourself.” It’s not the smoothest transition, true, but you’re not the smoothest guy. Her curiosity is peeked, and her head is tilted to the side. You follow up, trying to amend the awkward suggestion. “I know a lot about Apple Bloom, and I’ve picked up on a lot about Scootaloo, but I still don’t really know anything about you. I mean, besides the fact that you’ve got a fancy sister, but that doesn’t tell me a lot about you.” She sits up and smiles, happy that she’s neither overshadowed by her sister nor neglected. Before she can begin, a teenage girl rides up to the back of the car in roller blades. She’s got this minty blue-green hair, and a dazzling white smile. Too many bags sit on top of a circular tray, but she manages to move each and every one of them with incredible skill as she passes out the food. Greeting you is a bright and chipper
“Good evening!” followed by a sly look at you and your conversational partner. AJ reaches out with a card in hand, which is taken by the roller-waitress. She looks at AJ and benignly says:
“I’ll be back in a minute.” She leaves, not before throwing a wink towards you and Sweetie Belle. Your face blushes slightly, eliciting a soft laugh from the departing girl. You cough, then turn your attention to Sweetie Belle, trying to ignore the previous flirtation.
“So, you were saying?” She beams again, happy to be remembered. This girl probably doesn’t get a lot of attention.
“Well, I absolutely adore arcades and crocheting. Which is pronounced ‘cro-shay-ing,’ not ‘crotch-et-ing’.” She adds this final part with an accusing glare. Scootaloo looks confused at the sudden attention, then returns to her circle. The waitress comes back, looks at you for a few moments, then leaves, apparently disappointed. Near you, Sweetie Belle continues, spilling out the most delicious secrets of crotchet; you do your best to listen, but this is so far from your own interests, it’s all you can do to nod and smile. You work through part of your food while she speaks, deeply disappointed in the quality of the hot dog, but nothing else. When she finishes her lecture on proper techniques, she switches over to her love of video games.
“So, there’s this one, super-awesome game called Smash Bros. Have you ever heard of it?” You hold in a scoff as you reply.
“Yeah, I’ve heard of Smash.”
“Oh my goodness it’s sooooooo cool! I’ve been playing it since I was like, 10! I mean, the main reason I started playing video games was because it annoyed Rarity. She HATES video games, you know.” She drops a huge emphasis on the verb, bugging her eyes out and waving her hands. Apple Bloom looks to the two of you, drawn away from her own conversation. “But then it turned out they were kinda fun! I got my dad to start playing too, and now we play all the time! Sometimes Scootaloo comes over to play, but she’s not as good as I am.” She whispers this last part, trying not to draw Scootaloo’s attention. However, she does draw the full interest of the other crusader, who sidles up next to you:
“What are y’all talkin’ about?” Golden eyes looks up to you, then to Sweetie Belle. Absent-mindedly, you pull her a little closer, so she’s leaning into you. All three of you are sitting with legs crossed and half eaten meals in laps or besides such. Apple Bloom turns so that she faces away from you, then falls back to you, so that her back is leaning into your side while she listens to Sweetie Belle go on. Again your arm acts of its own accord, draping itself across her neck, with your dangling hand soon grabbed by Apple Bloom. You notice AJ look over to you, then back to Scootaloo; she seemed unfazed, so you allow yourself to keep the happy position.
Sweetie Belle’s tale continues, becoming much more interesting than you’d thought. Apparently one of Rarity’s friends had babysat her –“It’s not that I’m a baby, it’s just that my stupid sister treats me like one”- and they’d go out all the time to Hey Burger or the arcade. She’d pretended not to really know how to play, just cause he seemed to enjoy teaching her, but in the end, she’d actually learned a whole lot from him anyway. Eventually, Rarity found out, and straight up banished the dude. But then he got this managerial position at the local arcade, got Rarity to let him near her again, and they won this huge tournament thing. You were kinda surprised that anything that fantastic could happen in a town like this, but what do you know? Your attention slowly becoming rapt as the story went on, you’d forgotten even to sip your milkshake, or notice Apple Bloom’s stare.
“Wow, did that really happen?” you ask, not fully believing it.
“It sure did,” the sweet girl under your arm responds, corroborating the facts, “Ah saw it myself.” She turns to look at her cheerful friend and asks, “but Ah’m not really clear on where y’all are now? Is he your fella yet?”
“Nah, I’m still not allowed to date. But you can bet that by the time I turn 16, he’s gonna be.”
“How old are you now?”
“15! Turnin’ 16 in two weeks!” Suddenly, Scootaloo appears next to her, her sporty discourse over.
“What are you talkin’ about?” She looks to you, then adds with a grin, “is it how ya spanked him?” Immediately, all eyes fall the girl with the bright red face. Her answer comes out in a stammer:
“N-N-No! I never did that!” Scootaloo laughs at the protests, and Sweetie Belle hides her face. Apple Bloom looks at you, far less confused than you’d thought she’d be. You look through the girls, but no answer besides some snickering and face-hiding greets you. Turning to AJ, you ask her. Honesty’s her thing, right?”
“AJ, what’s going on?” She looks at you flatly, then over to the window.
“Ah wasn’t gonna say anything, but-“
“Scootaloo dared me to!” You look to Scootaloo, who’s trying to suppress that mischievous grin you’ve come to know so well. The blushing girl stares worriedly at you, not as used to being caught as Scootaloo was. Rather than give her the punishment she foresaw, you break out in laughter at the ridiculous bet and how worked up Sweetie’s gotten over it. Seriously, that horrified expression was priceless. But as soon as she finds out about your lack of concern, she returns to a neutral, slightly uncomfortable expression. After you calm down a bit, you assure her that it’s fine. She seems to agree with it, and you look at the nearby Bloom.
It felt like it’d been a long day. All the exercise, which you weren’t used to, along with all the effort you expended to not think of the incoming end, had worn you out long before dusk. You slide yourself to the edge of the van, hanging your legs over. They just barely touch then ground, only the tips of your down-pointing feet doing so. Turning to the abandoned Bloom, you pat the area by your side. Right now, you just want to be with her. You hold up your milkshake, barely touched, and smile, inviting her to partake. Soon enough she scrambles over to you, sitting with her side against yours. This is what you wanted.
But something was off about it. That sadness that had been pursuing you the whole day had caught up, your mind losing the strength to fend it off. Your eyes began to flicker, your heart feeling like it was beating against some insurmountable pressure. You could feel your chest tighten as a slow trickle of misery pours into you. All day you’d fought against it, tried to banish the thought and all its promises; but that didn’t work. It never did. Unbeknownst to you, your body had slumped forward, partly leaning towards the Apple Bloom on your left. Your expression fell, and a deep sigh escaped under a lax guard. The rosy-haired girl held the small weight you’d put on her, then hugged you tightly, sensing that you’d needed it. It wasn’t the first time she’d sensed the heaviness in your spirit, but it was one of the first time’s she felt capable of doing away with it.
It wasn’t done away with. You were still going. She was still going to disapp- You stop yourself from finishing the thought, feeling those slight tremors that precede tears. Maybe you couldn’t be the happy guy you’d like to pretend you were, but you didn’t have to bring down the whole mood. AJ and the two girls, understanding that something of a moment was occurring on the edge, moved to the other side to converse about the trip. Apple Bloom’s arms remained around you, providing some comfort to you. A small flicker of joy leapt in you, before fizzles out. A squeeze of her arms brought you another small flame, this one lasting slightly longer.
Your eyes lift to meet hers; hers full of concern and care, and yours showing a truer despair than you’d ever let yourself if you could have stopped it. Resting in her sight, you felt a change coming over you. It wasn’t your best moment; the control you had over yourself, so highly valued, was dwindling. But you weren’t weeping, as you’d feared you would. The swirl of emotions within you had faded to a few remnants, a few discernible feelings made clear through the thick veneer of exhaustion. There was just that little bit of joy that she never failed to give you, and a clear sort of pain. There was that sharp cut of the future knowledge, but it didn’t dominate you as you’d been so afraid. A quiet, sad smile formed on your face as you drew strength from Apple Bloom. A part of you wished you weren’t so messed up, wished you could be as cheerful as she was. Right now, you didn’t feel like the greatest companion.
But she was fine with you. Seeing your expression change from crushed to hopeful had written a huge grin on her face. She’d closed her eyes as she smiled at you, then took the milkshake from your nearly limp hands. Her eyes open, then stay on yours as she takes a long pull, then offers it to you. Cheered, you take it and place your lips on the straw where hers were a moment ago. The indirect kiss doesn’t pass by unnoticed, and you feel a slight fuzziness at the twinkling eyes that hold the secret.
The minutes pass, the others fading into the background once again while your attention carved out a special place for two. The cars and people flow by in small groups, barely being registered as more than ephemeral bursts of color. Blues and green, reds and yellows on hurried bodies speed through your vision, like thick fireworks in the gentle sunlight. The sky grows darker, the brightness of the world being turned down with it. Laughter and happy words stream into your ears, the unheard meaning allowing for little more than the sounds themselves to be registered. The sights and sounds continue in front of you and your Apple Bloom, each of you enjoying the performance of a summer day. You exchange the milkshake, passing it back and forth; the touch of your hands sending sparks through your bent figure. You don’t hold hands, but it feels as if you do.
On Apple Bloom’s reception of the shake, when it’s most of the ways gone, she pulls the top off and sticks her finger in. Your attention flies from all self-centered thoughts at the notion that she’ll do the finger bite. Oh man, do girls actually do that? She smiles as your eyes glue themselves to her finger, the furthest third coating in the treat. Then, without any hint or forewarning, she thrusts her finger forward, a splash of peanut butter and fudge flavoring left on your nose. You reel back, the dark cream coloring still on your nose. Interrupting the happy laughter, you reply in pseudo-rage:
“Oh, you!” You snatch the shake and dip most of your forefinger in. She sees the motion and leaps off the car. You follow the girl, screaming that very particular scream that children and girls do when they’re being chased by parents or boyfriends (respectively, of course). Through a handful of wide-eyed onlookers you weave, your cousin’s agility being a match for your adrenaline-heightened speed. She crosses behind a table and faces you. You feint left, and she matches you, trying to keep you on the far side of the table. You make a couple more attempts to the side, each expertly countered by Apple Bloom. Heh heh heh; just as planned.
Her smile grows triumphant, thinking she’s got you beat for the current challenge. She sticks her tongue out, closing her eyes in the process. At that moment you step on the seat beside the table, the place the other on the table proper. By the time she’s reacting to you, Gordian’s knot has been cut. You reach an arm around her left side, keeping her steady while your right finger moves to her nose. She screams again, the sound mixing with her laughter, the girl not entirely upset at losing. Just as you wipe off the smallest remnant of milkshake onto her nose, you hear an unhappy coughing behind you. Some guy with a hairpiece is grimacing at you, tapping his foot.
“You’re gonna have to stop that. Now.” You pull Apple Bloom close, trying hard to pull off a genuine smile. Your girl laughs nervously, burying her face into your shirt. Not noticing the new smear of ice cream on you, you answer the old man in the most insincere tone.
“Oh, of course sir. Very sorry sir.” Apple Bloom continues giggling into your shirt as you walk back to the van, not paying attention to the grumpy customer. Three pairs of hands clap as you reenter the van, pats on the back for you and “there theres” for your defeated date. With radiant teeth and closed eyes, you’re the target of yet another snuggle. The two of you sit close to each other again, one of your arms finding its way across her shoulder once more while hers snakes around your waist. The milkshake is rediscovered, and finished off soon enough.
Once the shake disappears, you lean forward. Your feelings still remain to some extent, that sticky murk that you have so much trouble shaking off. But there’s definitely further in the distance. You sit beside Apple Bloom, still breathing heavily. Inside you is a torrent of emotions, the multitude and flux of such drawing your attention to them. Not exactly content, not exactly ecstatic, but still appreciating where you are, and who’re you’re with. You remember a speech given by somebody, some girl you knew back in high school (you think) that speaks to you now. The sweet urgings of that girl, ignored and scoffed at then, are valued now: “Can’t we just accept where we are, and be there? Can’t we appreciate the moment we’re in, instead of constantly worrying or fantasizing about being somewhere else? Can’t we look at a moment, and say that while it isn’t perfect, it’s good enough?” You look at the freckled face of Apple Bloom, her skin looking copper in the fading light. You weren’t perfect, and this moment probably could be better; but fuck it. It was good enough. You lean over to plant a small kiss on her forehead. Seeing you coming in, she closes her eyes and smiles gracefully, a quiet happiness in her reception. The moment doesn’t last forever, but you try to be okay with that too. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle join your party of two, poking their heads in between you and Apple Bloom’s.
“OOOOOOOOOH,” they almost shout, making fun of your moment. They grin at each of you, the grins of kindergartners who see a boy hold a girl’s books, just before singing about them kissing in a tree. You’re still a little tired, enough that you don’t get drawn in, unlike the blushing Apple Bloom. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo immediately take advantage of the moment, and make a quick song that concerns a future marriage and children. From the slightly distant position, you are able to see that Sweetie Belle’s enjoyment is genuine, something you’re grateful for. You wonder where AJ is on all this, and direct your gaze over to her; she seems amused, nodding her head slightly to the tune. Seeing you glance at her, she smiles at you, holding in a snicker as she points with her thumb to the duet impaired by her sister’s protests. You don’t exactly get what she’s laughing at, but she doesn’t seem to be too upset with the implications, which is just fine with you. The giggling girls stop their song, and Apple Bloom almost stops blushing. Trying to change the conversation, she asks aloud:
“Alright, so what are we gonna do next?” You shift uncomfortably at the thought of the future, and turn your head away. Sweetie Belle’s confused voice comes from behind you.
“Weren’t we gonna make wine? Oh, I mean, grape juice?”
“Yeah, but that’s just tomorrow. What about afterward?” Scootaloo answers this one, in a similar state of Sweetie Belle.
“Well, ain’t he leavin’ the next morning?”
“Ah know, Ah know. But what about after?” You nearly wince at the subject, a motion not unnoticed by Apple Bloom. Grabbing your shoulder and turning you towards the group, she speaks to you as well as the others. “He’s coming back, and that’s that. So we oughta get to planning our next adventure.” Her speech is firm, no doubt lying behind those words. In her mind, you’ve achieved a kind of permanence, a magnetism that would inevitably bring you back to her. In all your attempts to escape from the future, you hadn’t really thought to plan on a return trip. But now that thoughts of the future had forced their way into your head, you were able to make such plans; and nothing was going to keep you from returning. A jolt of happiness rushing through you, you scoot up closer to the trio, and start making suggestions.
You suggest the arcade; you might be able to check out Sweetie’s moves and maybe get that sexy tutor thing going with Apple Bloom. Scootaloo nods her assent, referencing a score that needed to be settled. Apple Bloom, ever the neutral party, assents based on the facts that the tubing and grape-stomping was her idea, the hike and skate-boarding was Scootaloo’s, so it’s Sweetie Belle’s turn. The trip to the arcade chosen, and after Sweetie Belle are finished trading the glare of rivals with each other, the subject turns to the next event. AJ joins the conversation, sneaking in between you and Sweetie Belle.
“Sounds like y’all all got plans for what you wanna do. But what about Anon, here?” Six eyes open wide, your littler cousin’s the widest. Goshes and gees enter your ears, followed immediately by avid questions of your interests. The trio of crusaders get up on their knees, their faces filling more of your vision.
“What are your interests?”
“What do you like to do?”
“You like cars, right?”
“Yeah, he loves ‘em!”
“Do you wanna see some cars?”
“There’s a car show in a couple weeks, come back then!”
“What about the park?”
“Yeah, do you like the park?”
“Bowling!”
“Kite-flying!”
“Sewing!”
“Rainbow Dash Fanclub!”
“Church Youth Group!”
“Choir Club!” Questions and suggestions assail you, your opinion just as distant from the conversation as before. You don’t really mind, the antics of the girls being entertaining enough to distract. But somewhere AJ comes along, parting the sea of youthful cries.
“Now, you’re almost there, but Ah think your best bet in figuring out what Anon wants to do is asking him about it.” The three girls look to you, the question written on their very near faces.
“Uh…” You try to figure out the answer, but nothing’s coming up. What do you like to do? Bum around with your friends, dance at a club every once in a while? You decide to center your plans on the car show, and figure the rest out later. “Why don’t I come back when the car show happens, and we’ll just play the rest by ear?” They smile and nod amongst themselves, the look of politicians hearing a refreshing speech of an up-and-coming ally.
“Yeah, that sounds great!”
“Sure does!”
“Ah’ll plan for it!” The three girls high five each other, then hold out hands to you. You reply in kind, not willing to let down the earnest friends. AJ seems satisfied by the resolution, and whispers over to you:
“Sometimes ya gotta speak up, otherwise these girls’ll walk right over ya.” You nod, understanding how that could happen. Then AJ interrupts the chattering girls, who’re already planning what they’ll wear and so forth. “Alright, Ah’d say it’s about time to go home.” The night seems imminent, the sky fading much quicker. The five of you struggle to bring full bellies into their original seats. Eventually succeeding, you buckle up, and are off. The twisting path home is mostly uneventful: the long day, the summer heat, and good food brings a sleepiness to all parties involved. The winding road makes your two seatmates lean into your sides, but only the gorgeous ginger makes an attempt to remain. Falling into your lap, she stays there, turning herself so her shoulders and the back of her head fall lie on your lap. She seems the most alert of all of you, her brilliant eyes shining up at you with her signature smile. Gosh, she looks happy. You spread your own crescent above her as you slowly begin brushing her hair in a simple, loving gesture. Her eyes shut, not out of exhaustion, but bliss.
Sweetie and Scootaloo are both dropped off in turn, waving sleepy goodbyes at the fruit team, and thanking them for an exciting day. You tell them you can’t wait to hang out with them tomorrow, and they return the sentiment. It’s surprisingly warming, having these two girls tell you that you’re cool and fun to be around. It’s not how you’d describe yourself, but you’ll take the compliment. Finally, it’s just the three members of the fruit team, two Apples and an Orange. The van pulls in slowly, the crunch of the gravel marking your entrance into the Apple estate.
The three of you hop out, you and your older cousin much more weary than the still energetic Apple Bloom. She skips partway to the front, then, seeing you lagging behind, returns to your side. You can’t manage to summon the energy of her, but you can try. You skip a couple of steps before returning to your trudge. Entering the house, AJ directs you to prayers before letting you go to sleep. You feel some resistance, just wanting to go to bed already, but you assent. In robotic form, you go through the motions of the prayers, too tired to really feel it. The game of High-Low does spark enough interest to get your mind moving, and you report the joys of sleep-tubing avidly. After denouncing the shame of losing to Scootaloo in your bout of water-wrestling, you turn attentive ears to the next in line, Apple Bloom. She starts off with her low, being pushed into the water by Team Purple, then moves onto her high: getting to play with her friends and Anon together.
You feel a little bit dejected, though you don’t think you ought to. Still, a part of you had hoped that her high would be your massage. As soon as she finishes speaking, her eyes turn to you. Swallowing a disappointment you don’t want to show, you send a smile her way, telling her you loved hanging with her and her friends too. You see her shine with your affirmation, but don’t notice her gaze staying on you just a little longer than necessary. The rest of the family finishes up theirs, and you quietly excuse yourself to your room. Passing the bathroom, figuring you can always brush your teeth tomorrow, you saunter into your own room.
The minute you’d come into the home, there’d been that particular smell of home, the kind of comforting smell you barely notice, but remains with far-reaching effects. It is was this smell that had secretly put your nerves at ease when you’d come into the house. The secondary form of this was that of your room, a truer home than the rest of the house could achieve. And once you set foot in your room, there was this feeling of tranquility, like a thick blanket draped over a nearly napping body. The isolation of the room, detrimental to the more socially advanced types, was a necessity for you after so much hanging out. Being with the Apple family was one thing: they were family, and being with them gave such a welcoming atmosphere that the intimacy and ease of the situation might be compared to hanging out with one’s own self. You’d need a break from them, of course, but far less so than you did today. Constantly being surrounded by girls, without some radical injury to limit the experience, resulting in a more tiring day than you’d foreseen. But you were by yourself now, in that reliable haven of your room.
A part of you wished you were at your room back home. Not that you missed the house at all, but there was just something about a permanent residence that gave it a great hominess than a guest room could. Besides, that room up in your house was relied upon so many times to serve as a sanctuary that you always defaulted to a longing for it whenever you got to this level of exhaustion. Still, the location of it was sub-par. Ideally, you’d replace the Oranges with the Apples, or make this room your permanent residence, but both seemed implausible. Choosing to enjoy the comfort of this room rather than devalue it, you flop backwards onto your bed. In spite of all the issues that had been sprung on you today, you felt pretty good. You reach over to the bedside table, and pick up the DS on it. Placed side by side with your Gameboy, you manage to retrieve the intended device.
As the screen lights up and Mr. Nook introduces you to casual wage slavery, there’s this slight feeling of something being off. It’s not immediately clear: you’re in a place you like, doing something you like, so what’s the problem? You continue playing, somewhat apathetic to the events: you finish a dinosaur collection and succumb to a pit-fall hidden behind a tree. The lack of any real feeling towards these makes you question the vague discomfort more. Suddenly it dawns on you: you’re in the middle of a temporary stay with the Apples, and you’re wasting it on some game you can play anytime. The notion of waste enters your mind, increasing that feeling of malaise. You should be with your family, not waiting for the day to end.
At this juncture, a war begins to be fought within you. The lethargic and isolationist side argue vehemently for remaining. They cite the sufficiency of your socializing for today, pointing out that you oughtn’t strain yourself. They’d understand. It wasn’t worth it. But the conclusion of your values remains steady, an unchanging commandment repeated at every thrust of its opponent. Soon the arguments cease, and the two parties begin using emotions. On one side you’re struck with long-learnt distaste towards leaving your comfort zone, to jumping back from any notions of over-exertion, to despair over your family’s love for you. On the other, you have your want, plain and simple: you want to be with them, even if you’re not in the greatest shape to do so. You veer close to finding the strength to carry out your will when another change of tactics arrive. The game had continued in your hands, the NPCS hobbling around at intervals. Your hands do what they do, and you begin playing the game again, the engagement blocking out the results of the former arguments and any questions of its rightness. But one mighty jolt of desire explodes in your heart, propelled by the terror of regret; with the temporary strength, you shut it off immediately. With the blackened screen, you find two allies in the quest to go downstairs: the removal of the obstacle of engagement of the game, and the aversion to that asshole Resetti. On the tides of victory, you set the DS aside and sluggishly set yourself on the edge of your bed. Standing up, you walk over to the door of the room, opening it to reveal a cousin pre-knock. Apple Bloom stands there in the darkened hallway, her fist raised to beat the door, somewhat off-put by your having made it needless.
“Sup, Apple Bloom?” You ask, spirits lifted at the girl with the frozen fist. At your words, her trance breaks and the arm falls back to her side.
“Ah was gonna ask if you wanted to watch a movie with us. Ah know you’re a bit tuckered out, an’ AJ said ya might wanna be left alone, but I figured Ah’d come see if you wanted to anyway.” You can tell she’s unsure of the answer by her hands idly twiddling. Reminded of your tiredness, you yawn.
“Yeah, I’d be up for that. ‘Sides, I’m not really that tired anyway.” It’s true: the weariness of before seems almost like an exaggeration now. There’s still a bit of lag in your motions, but nothing to prevent watching a movie. “So, who’s in? Is it just you and me?” You ask the final question before you think, being more forward than intended. However, she only smiles at the apparent wish before debunking it.
“Uh, me, you, AJ and Grannie. But Grannie’s probably not gonna stay for the whole thing.” That’s still good with you. By this time, you’ve been turning towards the stairs and begin walking, Apple Bloom perfectly synchronized with you. Heading down the stairs, you notice the blueish light of an early night barely illuminate the house. The faint yellow of a distant light that accompanies it is enough to light your way, but not enough to make it seem optically loud. It’s kind of a comfortable little walk, just you and Apple Bloom in the quiet hallways. And though the staircase is only a few seconds, you decide to fill that moment with handholding. Your hand reaches out and touches your cousin’s, who immediately responds positively. The staircase’s approach slows as both parties try to draw out the pleasant experience. But soon enough it arrives, and you separate.
Moving downstairs, that low, mosquito-like hum of a TV draws your attention. You’re led into a different part of the house, one you hadn’t been through before. Along the way, you pass along a room with the door open, bright light shining out of it. Looking in, you see Big Mac in his room, playing with a deck of cards. The room itself is sparse, with little decoration apart from the Apple-themed wallpaper. There’s a generic looking oak desk with a matching chair, a bed made from the same material with a glum red comforter, a black metal nightstand with what looks like a picture frame on it. You don’t want to linger too long, but Apple Bloom seizes the moment to rush in and give him a big old hug.
“Are ya suuuuuure ya don’t wanna watch Aladdin with us?” Big Mac looks up from several stacks of cards to slowly shake his head.
“No.” You wait awkwardly outside the door, thankful that he doesn’t bother looking at you. Still, you feel as if you ought to add your invitation to the mix:
“Come on, man. It’ll be fun.” Although he’s not your favorite person, Big Mac is a pretty chill dude. You could see playing a game of cards with him or something, but the chance of him accepting this offer are pretty unlikely. He repeats his answer to you, then looks back down at his cards. You remember what AJ told you about how he used be real outgoing before his parents passed away. Poor guy. Feeling obligated to extend some sort of friendship to him, you resolve to try to reach out to him now and then. Who knows, maybe you could help him out a bit. Apple Bloom hugs her brother one more time, then exits with a sorrowful.
“Well, alright then. Maybe some other time.” She smiles on the last word and as she walks away. But as soon as she’s out of sight, she lowers her voice and lips. “Ah wish he’d say yes at least once.” The words are faint, and taper off towards the end, but you still pick them up. But while you may not be in a position to give Big Mac anything, you could be there for Apple Bloom. Stepping closer, you wrap her in a big hug. The walk stops as she returns it, the fierceness of the embrace momentary, but noticed nonetheless. She let’s go a little earlier than she usually does, then begins moving forward briskly. In no time you reach the TV room.
You’re shocked at how big it is. You’ve never really noticed the grandeur of their home, but one fact is slowly dawning on you; these guys have money. Whether it’s from a good farm or some inheritance (that’s where you think the Orange fortune came from), they aren’t in any financial trouble. They’ve got this great big plasma right in the center, and two theater-like rows of lounge chairs, loveseats and a great big couch. Your eyes immediately focus on the loveseat, hoping to use it. The walls are a very light blue, the hue indiscernible in the low light. The screen is lit up, showing the repeating menu screen of Disney’s idea of the Middle East. You move towards the loveseat in the front center, already planning out your invitation. Before you reach it, AJ raises her hand from the decadent couch in the back row.
“Howdy, Anon!” She gestures for you to join her; she sits on the leftmost side, with Granny Smith in a lounge chair immediately to her left. Patting the space beside you, you foresee a night with hands kept to themselves. Reluctantly, you put your dreams on standby, the proximity of AJ forbidding any major loving. Still, some casual cuddling might be in your future, and you plan accordingly. You seat yourself beside the country girl, followed by her little sister to your right. Somewhere along the line she got a blanket, and drapes it over both of you, which AJ doesn’t bat an eye at. Huh. AJ grabs the remote and hits play, and the show begins.
As the opening credits come on and the totally-not-the-genie merchant tries to entice you to watch a movie you’re already watching, you yawn unexpectedly. You sing along to “Friend Like Me” the best you can (which is basically only the chorus) in conjunction with Apple Bloom. Surprisingly, AJ chimes in, adding her own unique voice to the sound. If Granny follows along you don’t hear her: the three of you and the movie are pretty loud. Leaning back after the song ends, you find yourself entering into the outstretched arm of Apple Bloom. She’d carefully positioned herself so that when you did fall back onto the couch (you’d been leaning forward), you’d wind up in her arm. She steal a glance at her, noticing a completely innocent expression and a small smile trying to force its way out. You chuckle at her devious plot, and follow suit. Yawning, you thrust your arms up into the air. Oh, did my right arm fall onto your shoulders? Huh. Well, nothing I can do about that.
The movie continues, and you find the second wind arising, a tiredness returning to you. A pleasant tiredness, of course, but there’s still that desynchronization between you and the movie. Laughs come a second late, and a little slower at that. A sweeter song place, that romantic one you can’t remember the name of. As you listen, trying to keep your eyes open, the screen tilts to the right. When it’s almost made a 90 degree turn, the soft fabric of the couch touches your left cheek, the armrest having risen somehow. Not thinking clearly enough to investigate, or even notice, the mysterious situation. Slowly the words fade out, the lights and sound turning off.
Clang! The thunderclap of fallen iron jolts you up, adrenaline giving you a little more of your Friday. You blink a few times, trying to clear your eyes of that initial blurriness caused by disuse. Looking around, you see an empty room with still image of a genie on the TV. There’s a yellow overtone on part of the wall, sourced from an open doorway. Some noise comes from within, but you’re still too close to sleep to identify the sounds. Struggling to get up, your legs hesitantly allow you to, and carry you into that glowing rectangle. Moving closer, the noises clarify, revealing a conversation of the female Apples.
“Ah geez, sis! That almost caught me!”
“Sorry, Applejack. Musta slipped or something.” Her voice trails off as she finishes her explanation, which is overlapped by her sister’s reply.
“S’alright. Just be a little more careful next time.”
“Sure thing!” The concluding answer is bright and chipper, an odd tone for this hour or in those circumstances. You saunter in, scratching the back of your head tiredly.
“Well, look who’s up?” AJ says in conjunction with Granny Smith, the former’s hands placed on her hips. Granny Smith looks about as tired as you do, her body looking as if it drooped as a whole. All except her eyes, which stuck determinedly open. Her hands are extended towards Apple Bloom, who sports her trademark grin, along with a big metal pot.
“G’morning, Anon!” Your neutral expression, the sleepiness making you hard to faze, twists into one of shock, with a little bit of fear mixed in. Was it morning already? You didn’t feel like you’d slept THAT long. And why was the movie still in then? Your eyes dart to the kitchen window. It’s completely dark outside. Turning back to the family, they’re all wearing Bloom-esque grins, trying to keep from laughing. At the sight of your awareness, they laugh to themselves.
“Ah didn’t think you’d fall for that,” AJ says in something between an explanation and a taunt.
“Me neither,” adds her little sister in a kinder tone. She finishes handing the pot in her hand to Granny Smith, who hoists it onto a burner. Apple Bloom moves over to your side, patting your arm sympathetically. You throw out your lips in an exaggerated pout.
“You guys are a buncha jerks.”
“I stayed out of it,” Granny says matter-of-factly, picking up some olive oil and dumping it in the pan.
“-except for Granny,” you say, without missing a bit. “Granny is the tops.” You hear her chuckle to herself, appreciating the relabeling. Apple Bloom, having stayed at your side after the conciliatory pat, makes a case for herself:
“Awwwww.” Her eyes bore into yours, as big as she can make them. Just below her cute little nose is a pout to shame yours. She moves her head forward, so the chin of her upturned face is resting on the right side of your chest. Her hands are low, moving from the middle of your chest to your hand. Yours is given a prolonged squeeze as she melts your heart, and you correct yourself immediately. Bringing an arm up and over her, your hand comes onto the back of her head, pushing her gently into your chest. She naturally moves into a slight nuzzle and you rub the back of her head softly.
“Ok, I take it back.”
“Yay!” She moves back, her touch immediately missed, and raises two triumphant fists. Before you or AJ can say anything, an odd sound catches your ears. It’s like hundreds of little, light rocks being poured into a bucket. Looking over to Granny, where the source of the sound is, you see her holding some orange-ish plastic container upside down over the pot. You tilt your head and rack your tired brain for answer, but come up with nothing.
“Hey Granny,?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Whatcha got over there?”
“Popcorn,” she says simply, the singular word unraveling the mass of confusion that had been swirling within you. She moves to the side, and you see the tiny little kernels pouring out. The vegetable rain soon stopped, and the pot was given its lid once more. She turned the heat on and swiveled to face three other members of her family. “Alright, that’s all I’m good for. You young’uns make sure to clean up afterward, and go to bed at a reasonable time.”
“Sure Granny!”
“Will do, Granny.”
“Yes, Ma’am” come the three replies. Granny gives all of you a sweet expression before walking out of the room and off to bed. The mention of sleep brings a reminiscing wave to your head, and you yawn heavily. Leaning back of the counter, you struggle to keep your eyes open, unaware that the challenge would so suddenly arise. Apple Bloom looks at you hard, asking:
“Are ya sure you’re gonna make it?” You honestly don’t know, but you don’t want to disappoint Apple Bloom. AJ offers a similar sentiment:
“Ya know, ya don’t hafta finish if you don’t want to.” You do want to! Thinking as quickly as you can, which is really not all that fast, you try to assuage their concerns.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry, I’ll stay up.” Hold on a second. You’re promising this to avoid disappointing Apple Bloom, but if you fall asleep (which you probably will), won’t that disappoint her more? If your face wasn’t already downcast with sleepy rest, it might convey your frustration with yourself. Curse your tired brain! Meanwhile, AJ’s been nodding her head while looking at you. She walks past you to the refrigerator, and pulls out a can of coke. Holding it out to you, she says:
“Well, we don’t have any coffee made –‘sides, that’d keep y’all up longer than you wanna be, Ah’m guessing- but sometimes this does the trick.” You smile gratefully and take the can from her, opening it with the familiar sound of released carbonation. After letting out a yawn, not wanting that to come out mid-sip, you toss the can back and chug a good half of it. The sudden rush of the crackling soda down your throat threatens a cough, but you overcome the reaction. Being in that sleepy place, you let loose that ridiculous “ah,” after you finish. Fortunately, the dumb exhalation doesn’t bother you too much, for the same reason that it came about in the first place. You don’t feel any extra energy yet, but that could always come later, or under suspicion.
Apple Bloom, still beside you, is drinking her own. She takes smaller sips than you, the little motions and ending sound being cute in their daintiness. But she doesn’t keep the dainty, proper form for long. A couple kernels pop, the noise bringing your attention to the pot. As soon as you figure out the cause, your neck becomes subject to a chilling touch. Apple Bloom’s left hand had traded it’s soda for the back of your neck, the icy coolness of the can unfortunately transferred to you.
“Ah!” Failing to conceal a girlish squeal, your hand rockets up to your neck, replacing her retreating offence. You rub it hastily, quickly removing the painful cold. Looking to Apple Bloom, you ask her: “What gives?”
“Well, did that wake ya up?” No! Wait. You know, the minor adrenaline rush actually did help clear out some of that fogginess. It hadn’t been entirely present, but rather lurking at the lower layers of consciousness, ready to seep out at the first halt of action. But now you were feeling pretty awake, even if your body proper didn’t have all the energy it would have at an earlier time of day. Begrudgingly, you accept the fact. Still, you make your own plans of avengement while you affirm her.
“Yeah, it did.” She makes that face again, the one where she smiles so widely her eyes almost close entirely. It’s so sweet that you consider not exacting righteous justice on her. You smile back, mulling the question over in your mind. Nah, you’re gonna go with the righteous justice. As she pulls back, you turn towards AJ, who is now shaking the mostly full pot around, making sure all the unpopped kernels go the bottom. Just as planned, Apple Bloom follows your gaze, watching the semi-interesting sight. Your hand, the one holding the soda, is beginning to get crazy cold, having passed the point where you’d have moved it to your other hand. Ready to exact some righteous justice, you look at her from the corner of your eye. The back of the neck is too obvious. Probably shouldn’t go for the boob with AJ here; same goes for her butt, too. Then you remember a similar experience with one of your childhood friends, who’d attacked the inside of your arm with a spoonful of cold jam. He explained his superior strategy to your madly washing past-self as due to the inner part of your bicep, the part that lies against the skin, never receiving ill-treatment from the world, and so never gaining the sturdiness of the outer layer.
You look up to the ceiling and yawn greatly, stretching your arms up to the sky. The infection spreads to Apple Bloom, who yawns in turn. She raises her arms in an imitation of you, a step you weren’t sure would be successful. As soon as her arms go straight, you pass your can to your other hand, and attach the cold appendage to the soft flesh of her upper, inner arm.
“Yikes!” Her arms retract instantly, thrashing downward into a cross-armed posture. Her right hand frantically rubs the spot, her eyes still bugged out from the unexpected sensation. She looks to you, and you say with a smile:
“Just thought I’d return the favor.” Her rival-like like changes to her innocent you-got-me smile, and she chuckles a few times. AJ looks over her shoulder to observe the shrill response, confirming your rightness of your decision to avoid her chest and back.
“What are y’all doing over there?” You straighten up and give her a military salute, a position immediately mimicked by Apple Bloom.
“Nothing, ma’am. Just some good, honest, clean fun.” You speak in your gruffest voice, staring straight ahead.
“Yes ma’am. Nothing but good, honest, and clean fun over here.” Apple Bloom follows your lead brilliantly, though her deep male voice, like most girls’, is more hilarious than realistic.
“Yup. Sure is nothing but that.”
“Affirmative, not a thing to be worried about.” AJ interrupts your mockery with that semi-skeptical narrow-eyed expression you’re becoming well acquainted with.
“Yeah, yeah. Now come over here and get some popcorn.” You gladly follow orders, grabbing three bowls from the cabinet, and handing one to both ladies. AJ denies yours, telling you that one of you is gonna holding the main bowl. “Probably you, granted that you’re in the middle.” You put your own bowl back, leaving two out. AJ grabs this big honkin’ thing from a different cupboard and dumps the lion’s share of the popcorn inside of it. Then she passes it to you, followed by both her and your favorite Apple dipping their smaller versions in. All set up, you and your cousins pass back into the TV room, the last of the party shutting off the lights during the exit. You take your place in the middle of the couch, with Apple on both sides. An exaggerated shiver, completely with a pretty loud “BRRR” precedes a blanket being tossed over to Bloom. You pull it over yourself nonchalantly, hoping to make up for her slightly overzealous performance. Not wanting to bring the notion of a couple to mind, you hold up the end and offer cover to AJ. She declines politely, the lack of skeptic eyes setting the minor worry at ease.
“Alright, I’m ready,” says the cocooned Apple Bloom, only her head peeking out from the thick cloak. You repeat the sentiment, after which AJ picks up the remote, and hits play. The rest of the movie passes rather quickly, your heightened awareness allowing for greater attention to be paid, which results in an immersion your previous run lacked. Man, this movie’s a lot better than you’d remembered it being. When Jafar does his gross snake act, laughing all the way, Apple Bloom let’s out a soft “eep!” and clings to your right side. You doubt that she’s actually frightened of that guy, but hey, you’re not one to question a clinging Apple Bloom. Under the blanket, your hand slides over to her back, holding her close. You can feel that familiar bliss of her nuzzling into your chest, her eyes on the screen but her mind on you.
The climax comes and goes, Jafar’s forgotten storm of puns bringing a few laughs to you alone. How people could be so unmoved by such linguistic brilliance was beyond you. The popcorn is steadily devoured, the reaching hands of Apple girls surprising you with their refilling rustles. Everything ends happily for everyone except Jafar and all the people whose homes were destroyed by the falling pieces of the severely harmed castle. It was a pretty good ending; heck, the whole thing was pretty great, even though it was clear that Robin William’s could be credited for most of its value.
Standing up, you release the returning sleepiness through the duel actions of yawning and making a “Y,” like in that song about the YMCA. You can hear the other girls yawning and stretching in their seats before getting up. Feeling a soft arm still encircling you, you look down to see Apple Bloom attaching herself to you, humming happily. Inside you your heart explodes, blooms into that kind of perfect joy that rarely comes outside of late-night affection. You glance at AJ, who’s rotating her shoulders, groaning at the unused muscles. You pull her in with your arm, a brief gasp accompanying her facing you. You smile, the sleepy ease releasing you from everything that held you back from the simple joy of the girl to your right. You feel happy, and it shows. AJ smiles back, and accepts your offer, the three of you hugging tightly.
“I love you guys,” you say, barely keeping the unchecked words from being mumbles. “You guys are the best.” Your words come instantaneously, without the usual second thoughts that filter out any potentially embarrassing sentiments. And as you grin and hold the two girls tight, you’ve never felt a more honest and real moment. True, most of your happiness is due to your younger cousin, but AJ’s kindness has been important too. You know that you don’t, and probably can’t, know how much she’s affected you. But you’re thankful for it, for both of these girls. You give them an additional squeeze, just to make sure you’ve expressed your care. They both respond in kind, so happy to have you here.
Finally you part, your heavy lidded eyes pleading for rest. The second wind is disappearing, and you can feel it sapping at your strength. Your legs move like heavy logs, defiantly fighting at your efforts to move. The other girls seem far less affected as they happily walk you down the wall. Each of them remains at your side, walking at arm’s length apart. But you know that a closer proximity is mandatory, so before either of them could slip away or correct it on their own, you pull them both in once more. Your arms twist around each other’s, hands meeting and clasping at the bottom. No sneaky joy in the hand-holding here: only the simple bliss of a boy not alone in the slightest.
On you walk, a vague notion of a tooth brushing destination in your mind. As you go on, a familiar rectangle of light places itself along one of the walls, the loud glow setting some light upon the hallway around it. Taking note of the pictures and recalling the structure of the massive house, you figure out the source before its reached. Thanks to the memory of the walk here, your foresee Big Mac’s room just before you step foot into the grand deluge of light. Within it is Big Mac, looking the same as he did before. He’s bent over a desk, the same card game before him. Had the cards not been different, you could have mistaken him for a bright painting.
“Howdy, Big Mac.” He looks up to his older sister, and smiles. Huh. That was unexpected.
“Hey.” His low voice comes, the deep timbre surprising you. He speaks so rarely that you’ve never really set down a complete definition of what he’s like: there just isn’t enough information. AJ unravels herself from your love bundle and heads into the room. In order to fit through the door, you do the same, but not without a semi-apologetic, long glance at Apple Bloom. Upon seeing her similar response, you do so, and enter his room. AJ leans over his desk, placing one hand on the back of his chair and another on his desk.
“Still playing, huh?”
“Yup.”
“Alright, well I’ll jump in after you finish.”
“Ok.” The monotonous replies continue, as does your confusion. Luckily, AJ clears that up right quick. She looks up to you and her sister, and grins.
“Y’all want in? Me and Big Mac were gonna get a little Gin Rummy going, maybe some Poker after that.” The thought of playing a game stirs up your weary center: you needed to be asleep before now.
“Sorry, I don’t think I can.” You give them a little half-smile, apologizing for your inability to keep up with them.
“Don’t worry about it,” consoles AJ, flashing you a smile. “Apple Bloom?” You turn to the fourth, who stares for half a second longer before responding.
“Oh! Uh, yeah! Sure!” She looks at you with her big eyes, giving you that heart-melding, pleading look. “Are ya sure ya don’t want to?”
“Oh no, I want to. But I’m just beat.” Softly smiling, you give her one last hug, wave to the older Apples, then head out. Your walk to your room is a solo one, but still enjoyable. The house is warm, that comfortable level of heat that almost makes it feel like a blanketed fort. You walk up the stairs, smiling to yourself, and cross the hall. Standing in front of your door, that desperate urge to stretch overwhelms you, and you obey without thinking. Then, your body calm and relaxed, you open the door and walk into your room.
*phew* You collapse on top of your bed, exhausted equally from the day's events as you are from that perfect summer heat. You feel a yawn coming up, and, releasing it, you stretch out your limbs in all directions. Taking up as much space as possible, you roll your shoulders back and give a loud conclusion to the yawn. It's been a long day, and boy do you deserve this. Your head lolls to the side, and you experiment with its position, trying to find the comfiest one. Finding success, you close your eyes and curl up, ready for a nap. Naturally, a frenetic knocking at your door stops you in your tracks. A deep groan resonates from you as you give the door a sleepy glare. Adorable as she is, you really just wanted some time alone. But what could you say?
"Come in," you start to yell, but finish in a mumble. Apple Bloom leaps in, once again exuding energy from her very being. Seeing you sprawled out on your bed, she decides she's found a prime cannonball spot. “Anoooooooon!" she bellows, and sprints towards the bed, planting a foot on the trunk in front of it, and leaping into the air. Giggling, the forces of gravity soon pull her down. Terror obliterates all tiredness, and your adrenaline filled body flings itself to the side, almost escaping. Your cousin's tiny body slams down hard on your right leg, though much of her weight was focused on the bed. Enough to hurt, not enough to cripple, which was a condition you very justifiably expected. A half-faked howl of pain echoes through the room, and the giggling girl looks up in worry. Her arms were under her, and she was half turned towards you. Defenseless. You stop your howling and leap onto her, tickling her sides for all you're worth. Her giggles return, then evolve into full blown laughter as she feebly tries to hinder your works.
Raucous laughter fills your ears, and you find yourself beaming at the girl beneath you. Sensing your weakened efforts, she retaliates, her precious little fingers finding your sides. AHHAAJEEZNOOHMYGOODNESSAHHHH. The second her fingers start digging in, all energy exits your arms, leaving you fully at her mercy. Your attack gone, she places all her strength into tormenting your poor sides, a devious grin capturing her face all the while. You fall onto your back, laughter and a little pain gripping you. After a minute, you muster your strength, and bring back the devilish assault on her sides. A few minutes of laughter interspersed with giggling shrieks of "stop!', and the two of you are lying on your backs, breathing heavily, you find your right arm trapped underneath her, the elbow barely poking out from right side. Your forearm is raised, tilted slightly to the left, with your hand hanging down over her exposed tummy.
Her shirt must have slid up a bit, leaving the cute little mound exposed. Absent-mindedly the tips of your fingers begin brushing her tummy in small, light circles. You shift your body a little to the right, moving right up against her, so your elbow moves further from her body and gains a little more leeway. Now your whole hand can touch her belly, which it immediately does. Your open palm begins tracing large circles, with the unspoken perimeter of an inch away from the beginning of her bra and the upturned edge of her shorts. Your hand presses down, firmly but not too much so, as you make the initial circles. Then you shift it up a notch, dividing the motion into two crescents, one light and soft, with the other being firm, slightly depressing her skin. Your hand, once flat for the whole iteration, starts turning, so the inside of your hand massages her partly, then just the edge of your pinkie (while you make the turn), then the back of your fingers, before your repeat the whole process. As you work, you talk to her.
“So, what’s up? I thought you were gonna play cards with your fam.” Her eyes turn towards you, a subtle deliriousness seeping into them.
“Yeah, Ah was gonna, but Ah got tired in a hurry. Ah figured Ah might as well go to bed.”
“I get that. This isn’t where you sleep though.” Her reply comes a little bit slower as your motions draw her in.
“Ah know that, silly. Ah wanted… Ohhhh, yeah… Ah wanted to say good night to my favorite cousin first.”
“Awwww. Well, I appreciate it.” You show her you appreciate it with a small peck on her lips, eliciting a smile from your entranced sweetheart.
She breathes in deeply as you do this, not saying a word. You can feel her breaths begin to match the tempo of your strokes, breathing in as you make the light crescent, and breathing out when you press down more firmly. Every few iterations you stop, and move your hand in lines, almost petting her small tummy in vertical lines, then horizontal ones. Eventually your arm, still subject to the weight of your cousin, begins to feel tired, and you retract in from under her, earning you a sincere pout. You meet her asking gaze with a reassuring smile, then lean on your right arm while your left arm comes over to assume its position. You repeat the whole process, using variations of light and soft touches, and different patterns, just to keep it from becoming monotonous for her. You exhale, not realizing you've been holding it in, as her eyes lazily drift up and under the lids, halfway closed.
Her eyes then shut completely, a blissful smile interrupting her audible breathing. You note the gentle curve of her little belly, just barely protruding from her thin frame. The soft, malleable skin reacting to your hands is incredible, and you find yourself enjoying this almost as much as her. She groans and stretches her limbs, not unlike you had moments before, and you gaze in wonder at the beauty on your bed. Feeling like you're nearing completion, you press your hand down firmly, and resuming the large circles you'd begun with, decreasing the pressure at every interval. Finally, your last circle just a ghost of a trace, you lift your hand up, and lie down beside her. She turns over to you, eyes still closed, and shifts closer. Her head falls on your shoulder, and she curls up close, whispering sweetly in your ear
"You know, the massage was my high.” You tilt your head toward hers, asking quietly:
“Really?”
“Yeah. I didn’t really wanna say it in front a’ Granny. But yeah, it was.” You can hear the smile in her voice, the sight of it not necessary. You want to answer, to return some gift like that she’d given you, but you’re gone. Apple Bloom remains beside you, not wanting the motion of getting up to erase the still-present traces of your touch. She knows you’ve fallen asleep, and feels a special sort of happiness in draping her arm over your slumbering body. In that sweet relish, she finds one final surge of energy in an impulse: she lifts herself up just barely, and pecks your lips ever so lightly. Then she falls back down on you, the taste of your lips being the last thought on her mind.