Chapter Thirty-Nine - What I Really Want
Cotton sighed as she picked up her saddlebag. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Cutter.”
“Usual time, girl. Next time ya get here and I’m not around, just start on the cookies like always.”
“Yes, sir.” She pushed open the back door, then let it close with a bang, before trundling up the alley.
With Harmony Wishes in class, and Flarechaser and Daisy Withers’ current locations unknown—even though she had a good idea where Flare was—Cotton trudged across the street to the park entrance and began the trek, wishing she were home already.
Ugh, what a jerk. I can’t believe Mr. Cutter’s been taking credit for my cookies. And keeping me in the back so I wouldn’t know. I’m gonna have to call him out on that like Dreamweaver said. She let out a breath. Maybe Harmony’s right, I shouldn’t even be bothering. But I can’t just quit—I can’t sit on my flank unemployed and out of college… Maybe I should take her advice and just open my own… no, I’m not ready for that… Cotton took a deep breath, and a tear welled in her eye. Why can’t you be here to help me through this?
Cotton talked to herself all the way through the park, then walked in sullen silence as she exited and arrived at the main gate.
“Hey, colts,” Cotton said, half-heartedly nodding to Mortar and Howitzer.
“Uh, afternoon, Cotton,” Howitzer responded.
“You okay?” Mortar asked.
Cotton let out a sigh. “Meh. Just had a crummy day.”
As Cotton wandered through the gate without another word, the two guards smirked at each other. Howitzer looked around the gate at Cotton, then levitated the blunt, sanded end of his spear under her wing and wiggled it into her side.
“Haha!” Cotton giggled as she was tickled under her wing. “Hey! Stop it! Stop it!” Her smile of laughter quickly faded as she stomped a hoof and shouted, "STOP IT!”
Howitzer flinched and quickly withdrew his spear. “Sorry, Cotton. I was just—”
“No, I’m sorry,” Cotton responded with a sigh, shaking her head as she turned around. “I know you were just trying to make me feel better. Thanks, but… I’m just not in the mood today.”
Howitzer let out a breath. “I understand. Sorry you’re feeling so down.”
“Anything we can do to help?” Mortar asked.
Cotton let out a little snort as she turned to go inside. “Not unless you wanna take a train to Griffonstone.”
“We could do that.”
“Woah!” Cotton flipped around again and looked at the two of them, then let a tiny smile creep onto her muzzle. “Thanks, but I didn’t really mean that.” Well, not really, but maybe… “We need you here, anyway.”
Howitzer shrugged. “Alright. But remember, Cotton, if you want us to do something for you—”
“Don’t hesitate to ask us,” Mortar finished.
Cotton’s smile widened a bit before she said, “Thanks, you two.”
The two guards smiled back and nodded in unison. “Anytime.”
Ж
Cotton stood in front of her closet, slowly flipping through the innumerable dresses she’d ‘inherited’ from her late adoptive mother’s various fashion lines. Every now and then she’d take one out and hold it in front of herself, looking into the inlaid mirror in the door. Occasionally she actually put one on. She was in the middle of one such occasion—donning a baby blue dress with bows—when there was a knock at her door.
“Sweetie? May I come in?”
She finished slipping her wings through the designated holes in the dress, then took a look at herself in the mirror. Without moving a muscle, she said, “Sure, Dad. You can come in.”
Her door opened and Spike snaked his head through the opening. “Sweetie, are you—” His eyes widened slightly when he saw Cotton’s reflection in her closet mirror, then he put on a big smile. “Well! You look lovely. What’s the occasion?”
“Eh.” Cotton shrugged. “I was bored. Figured I’d look through Mom’s stuff.”
Spike’s smile faded at Cotton’s indifference. “Cotton, are you alright? You’ve been very quiet today. You were practically silent at dinner.”
Cotton let out a sigh. “I just had a crummy day.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head as far as he could without causing structural damage. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Cotton simply frowned as she looked at the floor, then closed her eyes and shook her head. “…Not really.”
Letting out a short breath, smoke trailing from his nostrils, Spike said, “Alright. I’ve learned enough not to pry. But is there anything else you’d like to talk to me about while you’ve got me? Clothing input, perhaps?”
She looked back up at the mirror for a few moments, silent. Then she replied, “No. Not that I can think of right now.”
“Okay.” Spike pushed his way further into the room, then kissed Cotton on the cheek. “But remember, sweetie, I’m always here if you need me.”
Cotton allowed herself to smile a little, then she kissed her father back. “Thanks, Dad.” She looked up at the clock on her wall, which read about a quarter to ten o’clock. She let out a sigh. “I think I’m just gonna hit the hay. I’ll see ya in the morning.”
“Of course, sweetheart. Have a good night’s rest,” Spike responded. Then he pulled his head out of Cotton’s room and shut the door behind him.
After pulling herself out of the dress and returning it to its proper place in the closet, Cotton collapsed into her mattress. She didn’t bother crawling under the covers; she just lay on top of the comforter. As she shifted her head, her attention turned to her bedside table. One of the objects on top was an old, empty inkwell, which held a short, curling, brown feather, sticking straight up.
Cotton looked at the feather for a little while, giving her eye enough time to release a single tear. She sniffled, then turned over and closed her eyes.
Ж
“Your form is excellent, dearie!” crowed Rarity. “Such grace! Such poise!”
Something in the back of Cotton’s mind told her that she shouldn’t be talking to the mare in front of her, on account of said mare being, well, dead. As well as most of the other party guests, for that matter. But that something wasn’t very loud, so it was easy to ignore. It may not have been the Grand Galloping Gala, but based on what her aunts had told her, this party had a much better guest list.
Continuing her airborne dance, Cotton fluttered up into the air, twisted her wings just so, and fell back to earth in a spiral. She flared her wings at exactly the right time, spun out of the spiral, and landed neatly on all four hooves, in spite of the baby blue dress she wore.
“She’s pretty good,” said Rainbow Dash, “but her wings are a bit tense. You’re almost there, Cotton, but loosening that spiral’s gonna bring your ninety-five percent awesomeness to one hundred. Practice higher up in the sky,” she stage-whispered, “and you’ll have more time to recover if you screw up.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Cotton said. Getting a little bit of tightness out of her wings had been one of her goals for that performance, so if that was Rainbow’s only suggestion, it was a good sign. “Thanks for watching, but…” She grunted and rolled one of her wings. “I need to relax for a minute. That last drop nearly ripped my wings off. Where was the balcony again?”
“What?” squawked Rarity. “But… But darling, you—”
Suddenly, Pinkie Pie was right between them. “Run, Cotton, I’ll stall!” She shoved Cotton towards a set of double doors. “Rarity, party burnout is like, one of the most horribly devastating diseases ever! See, when you…”
The room was crowded, yet as Cotton walked for the doors in a straight line, ponies just happened to move out of her way. The room was huge, huge enough to hold hundreds of ponies past and present from her family, yet the distance to the doors shrank exponentially for every step Cotton took. She’d had enough experience to know what those signs meant, but she decided to let the dream play out. It was too good to wreck just yet.
The doors opened to an empty balcony overlooking a nondescript courtyard. The night air curled lightly at her mane. She hung her front legs over the railing and inhaled deeply, catching the combined aroma of dozens of flowers. “This night has been almost perfect,” Cotton said, gazing up at the night sky. There was just one thing… one thing missing…
“Yeah, I thought you’d like a dream like this,” the sky replied.
Cotton squeaked, jumped five feet in the air, flailed, and dropped to the floor in a tumble. She managed to pull herself up to peep over the railing; an alicorn outlined by stars, not quite stallion or mare, was lounging on the Milky Way and grinning at her. “Moondog!” Cotton cried. “How many times have I told you not to do that?” But she was laughing.
“Never listened to you before, second cousin-in-law once removed,” Moondog said. “Why start now?” The outlined section of sky peeled itself off from the rest and stepped onto the balcony, becoming a three-dimensional hole to the sky in the shape of a smallish alicorn. “Besides, you needed a distraction. Letting you spend time with your extended family seemed the right way to go, at least for tonight. Actually, that's a pretty sure bet with you."
Cotton looked back at the doors. "Yeah..." she said, smiling.
"Even if you did think I was just a dream playmate Mom had whistled up for you the first night she showed you said extended family."
"Oh, hay." Cotton facehooved. "Not again. You're never gonna let me live that down, are you? And your segues suck."
"Aw, come on! At the end, Mom was all, 'This is Moondog, a creation of Ours who patrols the dreamscape and makes good dreams where We cannot'—"
"I was twelve! Twelve!"
"—and you were all, 'So you'll do what I want so I have a good dream?'—"
"You said yes! And I was TWELVE!"
"—and once it’d finally sunk in, you freaked out and were all, 'One of my cousins is a sapient hallucination? And I actually made her do that?', and it was hilarious!" Moondog laughed, clutching her sides. After a moment, she added, “And yes, I know ‘sapient hallucination’ wasn’t your exact phrasing.”
Cotton giggled, an equal mix of amusement and embarrassment. "I apologized..." she mumbled. "And... twelve..."
"You did and you were.” Moondog flew around Cotton in a circle and gave her the smallest of nudges on her cheek with a starry hoof. “And I forgave you,” she said, hovering back in front of Cotton. Then she shook her head and crossed her hooves as she chuckled. “I still can’t believe Mom thought you’d just forget about me until she’d taught you to lucid dream. The fact that you already knew how actually really impressed me.”
Cotton shrugged. “Well, I never told anyone. There were a lot of things ponies underestimated about me when I was younger.”
“Yeah, even my mom. She can be a little clueless sometimes, huh?”
“Hey, you said it, not me.”
Moondog nodded. “I know, I know. Don’t tell her.” She tilted her head at Cotton. “So what’s the deal, ‘cuz? You feeling down? I sent you a dream about the fam, after all." Moondog looked into the main room and frowned. "That's actually Pinkie, though, not just a dream projection of her. I have no idea how she got here…"
“What’d you expect?” Cotton said with another shrug. “It’s Pinkie and there’s a party.”
“True.” Moondog whipped around Cotton in a circle again, grinning wide enough to swallow a watermelon. "Just don't tell Mom I'm doing this, okay? You know she doesn't like me skipping out on sending good dreams to other ponies so I can spend time with you. But I figured, juuuuust this once… So! While I’m here, do you need-slash-want anything else? C’mon, tell me what you want, what you really really want!”
“Thanks, but I’m good.” Truth be told, there was one thing, but Cotton didn’t want to bother Moondog at the moment.
The world shook as the starry alicorn dropped onto her rump and crossed her forelegs. With an exaggerated scowl, she said, “You’re doing it wrong. You’re supposed to say—” Her voice shifted to a perfect imitation of Cotton’s. “‘I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want!’”
“Oh, sweet aunties, you’re referencing them?” Cotton rolled her eyes and shielded her face with a wing. “They went out of style before I was even born. You’re such an old fogey.”
Moondog stood up and flared her wings in mock indignation. “I am not an old fogey!” she protested, faux-bristling.
“Of course you’re an old fogey,” Cotton snorted. “You’re over five times older than me!”
“Five times older and wiser,” responded Moondog, “don’t forget that.” She lightly tapped Cotton on the nose.
Cotton swatted Moondog’s hoof away. “You never use your wisdom—”
“Irrelevant!” Moondog interjected.
“—so I’m not sure that part counts.”
“Oh! You wound me!” Moondog swooned and stumbled over the railing to fall out of sight. Two seconds later, she dropped from the sky and re-alighted on the balcony. “Not very much, mind. Anywho, what I am is an old coot. Biiiiiiig difference.”
“Coots are much more fun?” Cotton suggested with a giggle.
“Bingo!” Moondog flexed her entire body. “For real, though. Want something while I’m here? I’ve gotta keep moving or else Mom’ll come after me. She’s still got that tracking spell on me…”
Since she’d asked… “Well…” Cotton took a deep breath. “There’s… someone who’s… not here, and—”
Moondog cringed. “Eeeexcept anything regarding him. Sorry. I’d do anything for family, but I won’t do that.”
“But… But you could bring him in here!” protested Cotton, flaring her wings. “Or, y’know, a dream copy of him! Please? Aunt Luna did!”
“Yeah, I totally could.” Moondog reached out of Cotton’s line of sight and pulled up a confused dream projection of Steadclaw, who looked back and forth as he cocked a brow. “But then you’d want to spend more time in your dreams to spend time with him even though it’s not really him and then you’d be like super messed-up in the real world.” She shrugged and tossed not-Steadclaw over the railing. Vases broke and cats screeched in protest. “That’s… kinda one of the things I mean when I say Mom can be clueless. She really shouldn’t have done that last night, but she was all hyped up on your cookies.”
“…Oh.” Cotton looked down and sighed. Of course. It couldn’t be that easy. Nothing wa—
“Want a hug?”
Before Cotton could say she wanted one very much, Moondog was hugging her tightly. She squeezed back and blinked through the tears that were forming. For a few seconds, she was able to lay all her worries by the wayside. Let them come tomorrow.
“Trust me,” Moondog whispered in her ear. “I know it’s hard, but you’ll get through this. You wouldn’t be you if you couldn’t.”
“Mmm.” Cotton buried her face in Moondog’s mane. Despite its negative-space appearance, it felt silky smooth and cool. “How come you can switch between happy-go-lucky and heartfelt on a bit?” she asked.
“It’s part of what I was made to do,” responded Moondog. “I’m happy-go-lucky when you need that, and heartfelt when you need that. If you needed grim and serious, I could be grim and serious. Even if that seems a biiiiit unlikely.”
“Heh. Yeah.” Cotton squeezed Moondog one last time before they broke off. “Thanks for stopping by. I had a bad day, I really needed this,” Cotton said.
“Just doing my job,” Moondog responded with a salute. “Adios, prima.”
As Moondog collapsed into wisps of purple smoke, Cotton thrust out a hoof. “Wait! Before you go…”
Moondog’s head re-formed as the rest of her body lay in smoke. “Think of something after all?”
“Could… could you check on him?”
With a sigh, Moondog shook her head. “Sorry, ‘cuz. Griffonstone’s out of Mom’s reach, so it’s out of mine, too.”
Cotton pouted. “Shoot. Well, I figured it was worth asking.”
Moondog re-formed a shoulder so she could shrug it. “Fair enough. See you soon.” With that, the purple wisps vanished into thin air.
And Cotton was alone.
Deep breaths, Cotton. Deep breaths.
The night sky blurred as Cotton stared at it. Steadclaw moving wasn’t the end of the world. It just felt like it. The lack of contact, though… it left her torn. What if…
No. No matter the case, she could get through this. Her family and other friends were there to help, weren’t they? They weren’t Steadclaw, but they’d been there for her. They always had, and they always would. And if literally every princess in Equestria couldn’t help, well, things were a lot worse than a missing boyfriend.
She could handle this. She could totally handle this.
Deep breaths, Cotton. Deep breaths.
Cotton re-entered the ballroom and navigated her way back to Rarity and Pinkie. “—so when you have all the apples cored,” Pinkie was saying, “you can run the string through the middle, and have motivation on a stick!” She nodded sagely.
“I…” Befuddled, Rarity shook her head. “I… see, Pinkie. …I’m sorry, how does this relate to party burnout again?”
“I have no idea!” Pinkie said cheerfully, and bounced away without another word.
Staring after her, Rarity said to Cotton, “That mare will be the last unsolved question of magic and science, won’t she?”
“Probably,” Cotton giggled.
“Hmm.” Rarity turned to Cotton and froze, mouth open. She shuffled her hooves and bit her lip. “Cotton, dearie…” She forced a smile. “I know I’ve said that I’m… okay with you modifying my designs…”
“Yyyyeaaaah…” Cotton said slowly. Had she been tweaking her clothes without really thinking about it? Or was this just part of the dream?
“But, really, did you have to modify it like that?”
“Like what?” Cotton looked down at her dress to see—Oh. Well. She pulled it out to be sure she was seeing it correctly as full lucidity hit her like a ton of bricks. “…Why is my dress covered in monogrammed duckies?”
She heard a quiet, disembodied giggle, carried through the hall on the wind.
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Awesome = Awesome +1
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Wow, that was unexpected but cool! Though I suspect I'd be hella confused if I hadn't read the tantabus mk 2 fics.
I'll tell you what *I* really really want - is for Cotton to pony up and just *go to Griffinstone*, or else just get over him!
...So, Rarity's a ghost looking out for her 'daughter'?
If Tantabus had a foal
Cotton? Here's your brother or sister
It's an egg
No luck Huh?
9516487
Denver is an excellent name for a dragon...or dinosaur.
9516709
yummy
9516481
No. According to Moondog, the only one that's really there is Pinkie Pie. Rarity is a dream version of the mare, possibly mixed with personality traits created from the memories of her both by those that knew her in life (like Spike and Twilight), and from Moondog's own observations and possible interactions of her while alive, combined with how Cotton would imagine Rarity be and what Cotton needs to help her in the situation.
9516992
Ah, I see.
I really want to see Cutter get his just desserts
, and I hope it hits his pride HARD!
Moondog is such a sweetie
Thanks so much of pointing out that there's a fourth story. I love that series, and it was so cool of Rambling to help with that scene. So awesome ^_^.
9517229
Hell yeah. It'd be nice to see him get a royal beatdown.
9518135
So true. Gotta love her.
9516467 Because we're fairly certain that whatever's happened to him to stop him writing to her wasn't by choice.
You know, it just occurred to me... this whole mess regarding Cotton and her boss might be even more complicated than it seems. Since he's passing her cookies off as his own, it's possible he may have trademarked them. If not, any confrontation or attempt to quit may inspire him to do so. If that is the case, if she tries to make her cookies anywhere except his kitchen, he could sue her. The princesses would be powerless to stop him, as that would be nepotism, a serious abuse of power. Spike wouldn't be able to intimidate him, as that would be assault, tampering with a witness, and a few other serious crimes. It would hurt his image terribly, and if he is pardoned, it would tarnish the entire royal family, virtually destroying his daughter's future.
On the other hand, with as many friends as she has, it shouldn't be too hard to get the truth out. The negative PR would likely pressure him into changing his mind, and if it's too late and he wins the settlement, he'd likely go out of business and be forced to sell the rights. Even if he doesn't sell them to her, anyone who buys them would have to return it to her or risk the same fate.
Of course, she could preemptively trademark it, but I doubt she'd know to do that. It would be less dramatic, a bit Mary Sue-ish, and not very good storytelling.
Lastly, I can't help but suggest a name for his lawyer: Hasty Brow. Yes, I am shameless with my wordplay.
9523035
You actually can't trademark or copyright recipes (at least, that's what American courts say). Supposedly, they're just lists and collections of facts that can't be copyrighted, the same way "1 + 1 = 2" can't be copyrighted. If Cutter were to sell Cotton's cookies under a certain name, he could trademark the name, but he couldn't do a thing in court if Cotton decided to just up and leave and sell her cookies on her own. In fact, he couldn't do a thing in court if Cotton copied down all his recipes, took them with her when she left, and passed those recipes as her own. (He could certainly spread the word throughout the food industry that she was a plagiarist, but he couldn't sue her.)
9524551
As you said: That's how American courts work. This is Equestria.
9524551 Actually that you can't copy right a recipe is wrong simple ones sure complex ones are absolutely copy righted. The coke formula which could also be called a recipe is copy righted
lol Moondog! oh wow that's a Reference in a half does this make Tantabus, Mk. II canon in this universe?
9714980
Yep. Like probably the far, far past. But it references the same stuff from that series.