The Gift That Keeps On Giving
In the First Year of Princess Luna Returned, the newly reinstated Sovereign of the Night celebrated her birthday on the night of the winter solstice. Tradition had placed Princess Celestia’s birthday on the summer solstice, to coincide with the Summer Sun Celebration; whether their birthdays actually fell on those days had long been a matter of debate, about which the Princesses never cared to weigh in. But in a show of solidarity, Princess Celestia decreed in the Second Year of Princess Luna Returned that they should observe their birthdays when day and night stood equal. However, the vernal equinox interfered with Winter Wrap Up, and the autumnal equinox with the harvest. As the latter required less personal involvement from the Princesses, they settled on that date.
Each municipality across Equestria sent representatives to bestow gifts upon the Princesses to mark the occasion, but their unprecedented shows of ostentation only served to dishearten the Princesses. Should they keep up that level of extravagance every year, it would cause significant and pointless hardship for the populace. The Princesses would have abolished the practice altogether, but their subjects pleaded for an opportunity to pay homage. And so in compromise, after that year’s celebration, the Princesses further decreed that such an event should only occur every fifth year henceforth.
Thus it came to pass that with only a short time left until the festivities, the citizens of Ponyville gathered around their elected official to hear her proclamation.
Mayor Mare unfurled her scroll, cleared her throat, and tapped a hoof on the podium’s microphone to settle the crowd assembled in the town square. “Attention!” she called out, then cast a disapproving glare over the townsponies until the murmurs had died away. “As you all know, the Princesses’ birthday is almost upon us. We need something spectacular to astonish them.”
A voice floated over the crowd. “But… they said they don’t want anything fancy.”
Scowling over the many faces, Mayor Mare practically dared anypony to say another word. “Do you remember last time, when Dodge Junction was overrun with shrieking shrikes? They broke every bit of stained glass in town, including the commemorative window they’d placed in the town hall.” She waited for an answer, but none was forthcoming. “They were so embarrassed that nopony attended, and they sent a card. A card! Princess Luna nearly fell asleep while Princess Celestia read it!”
The mayor paused to watch the ripple of nods pass over her audience. “We can’t compete with the brute force of the larger cities’ economies, so we must find another way to outdo them. I will not—” she pounded a hoof on the lectern “—have Ponyville get lost in the shuffle; we have been near and dear to the Princesses’ hearts ever since our founding, and we need to represent our town accordingly. We’ll show them that we care or go insane trying,” she added, her eye twitching.
A little self-satisfied smile wriggled its way across her features, and the crowd leaned forward, balanced on the tips of their hooves, to hear what wonderful gift the mayor had devised that would stand out above all the rest Equestria had to offer. “My reasoning is thus: Princess Celestia is known to like cake. Furthermore, in the National Dessert Competitions for the last several years, who were the top contenders? Gustave le Grande, for one, and the Gryphon Kingdom has no use for participating in any tribute to the Equestrian Princesses. The second, Donut Joe, resides in Canterlot. As the seat of our government, Canterlot is expressly forbidden from giving a gift, in the name of remaining neutral. And Mulia Mild swore off everything but grilling while researching her new cookbook. That leaves but one: our own Mr. and Mrs. Cake!”
The mayor extended a hoof, and the assembly parted, leaving the Cakes standing in the open, all to raucous applause. Mrs. Cake, for one, simply couldn’t form any words for the occasion, but faced with the prospect of standing there speechless indefinitely, choked out a few. “Oh,” she managed, holding a hoof to her mouth. “I-I suppose I could…”
“Nonsense!” said the mayor. “We have complete faith in you. Our success is guaranteed! We’ll give them the best cake they’ve ever seen! I’d volunteer to help, but I have to administer the repair fund for Ponyville Tower, coordinate the transfer of water from our reservoir to Cloudsdale for this winter’s snowflake production, organize the Running of the Leaves… Well, you understand. But it’s cake… Who else would do it?”
And the mayor was right. Who else could do it? Mrs. Cake had no choice but to nod. She had no choice but to let Ponyville’s reputation rest on her.
With the matter decided, everypony had returned to their jobs or their homes and promptly cleared the issue from their minds. No more worrying and no more apprehension—except for a certain bakery that had closed unusually early, that is.
“I just don’t know what I’m going to do!” Mrs. Cake wailed. Mr. Cake and Pinkie Pie stood on either side of her in Sugarcube Corner’s kitchen and watched the tears stream down her face. Each tried to pat a shoulder or offer a hug, but the inconsolable mare only sagged further toward the floor each time.
“It’s two weeks away! Two weeks! How am I supposed to come up with an innovative, never-been-seen-before, eye-catching, palate-pleasing cake in only two weeks?” She sank to the tiles, against the oven, and a sob-induced spasm set the metal ladles and spoons hanging from its hood to jangling. “I have three weddings, a retirement, a baby shower, and a cuteceanera to cater. Not to mention four other birthdays! How will I even figure out what to do in time?”
Pinkie Pie sucked in a breath and held it until her face reddened, then before she could think better of it, she squeaked out, “I’ll do it.”
Mrs. Cake perked up and gaped, her mouth working like a goldfish out of its bowl. Pinkie had always served admirably as an assistant in any and all aspects of the catering business, and was second to none as a party planner. But in this case, the party needed no planning; Canterlot Castle’s own event staff had already wrought their finest fêting, hors d’oeuvres, decorations, and music, no doubt. Only the matter of gifts remained, but what a matter! And Pinkie had never shepherded a project through on her own before.
Not to mention that with her impulsive decision, Pinkie surely had no idea of the magnitude of the task which she had accepted. It began to dawn on her as she left the room, however. The party refreshments would already doubtless include a cake. What possible purpose would having another one serve? Inciting the ire of the Canterlot Castle kitchen staff through direct competition was a no-win scenario, of course. Either her cake would outdo theirs on their own turf and earn their resentment, a career-threatening move. Or it would pale in comparison to the food, much less the other gifts—a fool’s errand, if ever she’d undertaken one.
Mrs. Cake mumbled some thanks from her place on the floor, and even Mr. Cake abandoned his post for a moment to catch up to Pinkie. “Are you sure?” he hissed. “These are some of the most knock-down, drag-out, fierce competitions I’ve ever seen, and for what? Giving the Princesses something they could have had anyway? And risking having everypony in Ponyville angry at you if they think you made the town look bad? I know I’m doing a great job of talking this up to you, but…”
He directed a pensive stare at the floor, then back toward his wife, who finally took some deep, cleansing breaths and rubbed her temples. “Please ask for help if you need it. Don’t feel like you have to do this on your own.”
She considered his words and already saw the possibilities branching out into the future, a spider web fanning out with her at the center, and each decision leading to more and more dead ends. But somehow, she couldn’t envision any way of accomplishing her task except by doing it alone. Too many cooks, after all. Nothing ruined a personal vision quite like a committee. She had to trust everypony else to trust her.
Pinkie Pie grabbed a pad and pencil and went to her room, the old pine boards creaking on her way up the stairs. Her cake would need to be art more than food for it to stand out enough. She had an awful lot of planning to do, and never before had she taken more than five minutes to feel the seed of an idea sprout in her head, grow firm roots, and reach toward the sky.
Closing the door behind her, Pinkie prodded her mind into emergency mode, but it remained agonizingly blank. She would find the perfect gift for two ponies who needed few things and wanted even fewer, even if it drove her mad. She lugged the leaden weight of her soul across the floor and fell onto her bed, but slept not a single minute that night.
With each new morning came new possibilities, untested and unproven. With each afternoon came new failures, with lessons learned, of course, but fewer and fewer seeds to replenish the stock. And with each new night, hope ran in short supply.
Already a week into her preparations, Pinkie Pie had nothing to show for her efforts, save a few waste bins full of discarded cake parts. By day eight, the bags under her eyes had become pronounced, and she continually found herself nodding off or staring out the window, her mind idling. She’d also worn her pencil down to a stub scribbling out sketch after sketch through the first notepad and half of a second, every one of them eventually discarded and relegated to its fate in the trash alongside hunks of stale confections.
A constant fog of flour swirled around her and the thirty-some pans of batter in various states of disrepair. Along one counter lay dozens of crumbled gingerbread pieces, and strewn across another sat chunks of crushed bundt cake. The central table supported an impressive array of mixing bowls, covering a full spectrum of fudges and meringues, in different thicknesses as well as colors. And rising far above a tea cart beside the stove was an enormous framework of graham crackers and marshmallow, standing a good ten hooves overhead. Whatever it had supported now lay scattered across the floor.
Only Twilight Sparkle watched. Early on, many faces had pressed together to see through the Dutch door at the back of the kitchen. Everypony wanted to witness what magnificent creation Pinkie might invent, but with failure after failure, the crowd had dwindled until just one remained.
“Pinkie, are you sure I can’t help?” Twilight said. She leaned over the door and cast glances this way and that, seeing no signs of progress.
“No. Maybe. I don’t know,” Pinkie answered, her head losing a little more against the battle with gravity. “Angel food cake just can’t take the tensile stress I need, pound cake”—a coo sounded from further inside as the Cakes’ son heard his name—“doesn’t have a good enough strength-to-weight ratio, fudge has too much thermal creep to hold up for long, and biscotti’s fracture toughness wouldn’t survive the trip to Canterlot!” She pounded a hoof on the cart, and a few more tiers of graham bracing tumbled to the ground.
Twilight smiled grimly, opened the door, and strolled past the open copy of Structural Mechanics for Foals on the counter. She placed a hoof on Pinkie’s trembling shoulder and met her gaze. “Pinkie, don’t make any more out of this than you have to. It’s not worth your mental health.”
“But they’re the Princesses!” she shouted, probably louder than she meant to. “Super-duper-important bigwigs! Well, not really. Not like Cranky Doodle’s wig—er, toupee. But you know what I mean.”
“Pinkie, listen to me,” Twilight replied. “The Princesses wouldn’t want you to go to this much trouble. Do you know how bad they’d feel if they could see you now?”
“But they do so much for us, Twilight.” Pinkie smiled for the first time in days, and a speck of vitality returned to her eyes. “I want to do something for them, too.”
“They appreciate the sentiment, Pinkie, but honestly, the sentiment is enough. You shouldn’t kill yourself trying to give them something that’ll knock their horseshoes off,” Twilight said, flailing a foreleg toward Canterlot.
“I don’t know. I think they’d do the same for me,” Pinkie said, her stare wandering off to the wall clock, where a little mechanical sun and moon danced slowly in rounds day after day. “I just want to show them what all of Ponyville thinks of them. The Princesses are so super fantastic bombastic, and they’ve always been so sweet to us. So a sweet thing in return… Only it’s not working.”
Twilight held a hoof to her chin, and the corners of her mouth sank toward Pinkie’s mood. “Well, why does it have to be a cake?”
“Oh, that’s right!” Pinkie chirped, her ears pricking toward Twilight. “You weren’t here for the mayor’s speech. It was a good one! You see, of all the best bakers in Equestria, only the Cakes would be available, and they live right here, so it only makes sense to go with what we do best, but Mrs. Cake got all saddy-waddy about it, since she had way too much on her plate—not a cake plate, of course, because that comes later—and I can’t have Mrs. Cake all saddy-waddy, so I said I’d do it, and it all makes so much sense, and that’s all I got!” Pinkie panted in the silence while Twilight navigated the linguistic maze until she’d discovered the exit.
“And Princess Celestia likes cake,” Pinkie added.
“Okay… Still, why does it have to be a cake? As long as you have the right attitude, I don’t think it matters.”
“But…” Pinkie said, one eyebrow raised. “What else would I get the Princesses? They rule all of Equestria. They can have anything they want. What do you get somepony who has everything?”
Twilight shook her head and watched her hooves, as if they might answer. She’d gotten Celestia personal gifts in the past, but nothing that might represent an entire town.
“You’re a Princess!” Pinkie pressed. “What would you want?”
“I-I don’t know, Pinkie,” Twilight said, taking a step back. “I don’t think I can answer that. What I can tell you is that as long as you give from the heart, the Princesses will like whatever you decide. Even if your heart told you not to give them anything, they would respect your decision, and I’m sure it wouldn’t anger them.”
“Oh, no! No, no, no, no, no! I-I wouldn’t ever be a no-gift sourpuss!” Pinkie glared at Twilight as if she’d spoken some incomprehensible foreign language.
“I know, Pinkie. The point is: Ponyville trusts you, and so do the Princesses.” Twilight added a warm smile and hugged her friend. The added weight on Pinkie’s shoulders made her feel like she was floating up among the clouds, where nothing else could reach her. She had a few new ideas already.
“Everypony trusts you, Pinkie,” Twilight repeated. “Just let them.”
Pinkie gritted her teeth and nodded. No way she could let them all down now. She just needed to keep working, and something would surely come to her. It had to. Somehow.
Before long, the fresh infusion of hope had run dry. Friends stayed away, maybe because they feared becoming a distraction and maybe because they feared gaining a distraction. But where friends were concerned, a simple cake with “Happy Birthday” traced across it had always sufficed. Were they Princesses first and friends second, or the other way around? Either way a risk, and neither way a solution.
Thus Pinkie Pie had arrived at her own answer, just before she left home to catch the train to Canterlot. She prepared her gift, wrapped it up, tucked it away from prying eyes, willed her shattered nerves into a numb silence, and walked out the door.
Twilight Sparkle received the delegation from Ponyville at Canterlot’s train station. She peered at Pinkie’s sagging shoulders when she walked past, but Pinkie never looked up, nor did she reply to Twilight’s salutation. One by one, the rest of the party disembarked, but they had no cargo in tow. “Where…?” Twilight began, but Mrs. Cake shook her head.
“She must have sent it ahead,” Mrs. Cake whispered. “She didn’t bring anything with her, not that I could see.”
Twilight gaped after Pinkie, then trotted to catch up to her, past the Cakes, Mayor Mare, and the other Elements. Once beside her pink friend, she adopted the same stiff-legged, distracted gait as the rest, all eyes on Pinkie Pie and her low-hung head, practically shoveling her nose through the dust.
Turning back to Pinkie’s entourage again, Twilight hissed, “Has she been like this all week?”
“Last few days, at least,” Mr. Cake murmured with a shrug and a tight-lipped smile.
As they made their way onward through the flow of ponies, more and more tributaries merged with them into the main stream, their combined voices all growing to a dull roar by the time they reached the throne room’s antechamber, where they all rolled into eddies of private conversation, stagnated in the corners, or surged through the open channels: massive bronzed doors flanked by impassive pegasus guards. Through the gates the current swept Pinkie Pie; she had no inkling of where to go, but she felt the occasional nudge this way and that, and eventually, Twilight had corralled her to the front of the crowd.
A hush fell over the room, and Pinkie jolted her mind back into the moment; she stood a bit forward of the throng of ponies, in the shadow of a pillar, and all around her, nobleponies and representatives of the far-flung cities of Equestria flaunted their finery. Pinkie wore nothing.
When Twilight and Cadance had taken their places beside the royal dais, Princess Celestia spoke. “Thank you all for attending. We welcome all to our birthday celebration and hope you will enjoy the fine entertainment and food we have ordered prepared. It is our privilege and our pleasure to host our dear subjects from every corner of our fair land. And now, according to tradition, we will proceed with the presentations”—if Pinkie wasn’t mistaken, the corners of Princess Celestia’s mouth turned down, however briefly—“through the drawing of lots.”
Princess Celestia levitated a bowl of onyx marbles onto the floor in front of her and picked one out, taking her time to examine the flowing gold script across its mirror-like sheen. “First shall be… Ponyville!”
Pinkie flinched and let out an involuntary grunt. All townships dreamed of having the right of first presentation. After all, only so many art forms existed. Inevitably, several cities would offer a painting, sculpture, or other work of art. The early positions had the benefit of seeming at least somewhat original, while the rest of the herd had little hope of appearing as anything but pretenders.
She took a half-step from the shadows, her nose edging into the chandeliers’ illumination. “I-if you don’t mind, Y-Your Highness, I would—I would prefer to go last.” She bowed her head and dared not look.
“Very well, Pinkie,” Princess Celestia said, the raised eyebrows evident in her voice. Another rattle of marbles sounded, and then she proclaimed, “Baltimare. Step forward, if you please.”
Pinkie returned to her shadow and glanced behind her; the Ponyvillian delegation stared open-mouthed at her and whispered amongst themselves. “Did she even bring anything?” she saw Mayor Mare say to the Cakes; they merely shrugged and fidgeted with their clothing.
“My lieges,” said the unicorn who took the floor, “the fine city of Baltimare presents you with the gift of music. We have commissioned a grand symphony by the renowned composer Hoofvaness for Your Highnesses, in styles spanning over one thousand years to suit tastes both ancient and modern. The Baltimare Symphony Orchestra shall premiere it at our season-opening concert in one month’s time, but of course, if Your Highnesses should prefer, we will naturally make it available for the Canterlot Philharmonic to rehearse and perform at Your Highnesses’ earliest convenience. In the meantime—” he hooked a forehoof into his sash and swept the other across the crowd “—we shall present the manuscript for Your Highnesses to study, should proof of its completion be required.” He lowered his head and awaited judgment.
“That will not be necessary, good sir. We will of course attend the concert, and look forward to enjoying that which the city of Baltimare has bequeathed to us.” Princess Celestia inclined her head toward him, then whispered something to Luna, who nodded and smiled.
Princess Luna levitated the next marble from the bowl. “Fillydelphia. Please step forward and be recognized.”
A portly mare—another unicorn, Pinkie noted—strode onto the purple carpet below the throne and motioned to the canvas-draped object rolling on squeaking wheels behind her. She executed a graceful curtsy. Her horn aglow, she tugged the cloth sheet off, revealing a large statue of both Princesses. The elongated forms stood facing opposite directions—one to the east and the other west—with their bodies arched around each other and cutie marks rendered in sun opal and moonstone.
“A… form like a Taijitu,” Princess Luna said with a thoughtful squint. “Opposites, constantly in mutual orbit. Clever.”
“Your Highness has a good eye. That is precisely the intended effect,” the mare replied, caressing the sculpture’s iridescent surface. “The work of our city’s own Alexander Halter. It shall stand proudly in our museum as a testament to the greatness of our rulers. We have also provided Your Highnesses with a miniature likeness for placement in Canterlot Castle,” she added as she pulled a smaller box out from under the statue.
“Well done,” Princess Luna said, angling her head toward the mare. “We shall display it with pride, and we anticipate seeing the full version in its permanent home.”
A smattering of applause sounded, and Princess Celestia turned her attention once more to the bowl of marbles. And so went the entire afternoon, the great cities and towns of Equestria all presenting their gifts to the Princesses, for hours on end. As expected, those spokesponies who went later in the day regarded their precursors through narrowed eyes for having thought of the same ideas and earning credit for originality, due to sheer luck of ordering. And, curiously enough, those spokesponies were all unicorns.
As more and more lavish offerings piled up on the steps below the royal dais, the room’s shadows swiveled like weathervanes with the sun’s motion, and Pinkie crept around the pillar to stay in the gloom. When evening had drawn nigh, and the bowl of gilded onyx marbles had run empty, the Princesses stood to do their duty in exchanging the sun for the moon. The Ponyvillian delegation directed puzzled glances at each other.
One step away from the throne, Princess Celestia stopped. “Oh! Pinkie Pie! I apologize—I forgot that you had deferred your turn.” She glanced around the room and knit her brow. “Pinkie Pie?”
After a moment’s silence, Pinkie emerged from behind her pillar. “Here, Your Majesty.”
The Princesses resumed their seats. “Pray continue, Pinkie Pie,” Celestia said. “I am curious to see what you wanted to save for a big finale. But please speak up. I can barely hear you.”
“Not a big finale,” Pinkie replied. “I-I just… hoped you wouldn’t remember.” She hung her head and took a deep breath.
Princess Celestia lit her horn for an instant. “I…” Pinkie began, her voice reverberating throughout the room. She flinched from the sound.
“I was going to make you a super-duper, giganterrific cake, since the best cake makers in Equestria live in Ponyville.” Pinkie gulped and tried to speak more quietly, but the amplification spell countered. The lump in her throat didn’t budge. “But I couldn’t get it to work right. It would have been sweeter for the eyes than the tummy, and you were going to have your own chefs’ cakes at the party anyway. So I decided on something else,” she said as she flicked her eyes toward Twilight, who gave her an encouraging nod.
“What do you get for somepony who has everything?” Pinkie asked, a tremor running through her knees. “We’re just giving you back what already belongs to you. Do you want a cake? Tell your staff to make one. Do you want a portrait? Give the order, and it’ll happen, lickety-split.”
“We appreciate the sentiment, Pinkie, but we do not own Equestria any more than you do,” Celestia said. Her ears folded back, she draped her wings across her seat and let her weight settle deeper into the cushions. “We don’t want you to feel any obligation. In fact—”
Pinkie held up a hoof. “You both do so much for us, and I want to let you know what you mean to everypony, but I don’t know what I could give you that would say it right.”
“Well, you have said it, Pinkie, and very sweetly,” Celestia replied. “We need no token to symbolize the sentiment you have already expressed so eloquently, and we regret the stress it has obviously caused you.”
“No,” Pinkie said, shaking her head. “I did bring you something, but I’m sorry it’s not fancy.” Her friends from Ponyville exchanged another round of glances behind her. She took a few halting steps toward the throne, and with each one, her knees shook harder and her eyes opened wider.
The two guards below the throne took a step of their own forward. One, his jaw set, lowered his spear as well.
“Stay your hoof,” Princess Celestia ordered. “Let her approach.” The soldiers resumed their posts and shouldered their weapons.
Pinkie climbed her way to the throne, all eyes on her, and nearly stumbled at the top. She reached a trembling hoof toward Celestia, whose slow head shake stilled the shifting armor Pinkie heard behind her again. She took a deep breath, held it in, gritted her teeth, and closed her eyes.
She fell forward into Celestia and hugged her tightly. “I love you,” she said, her enhanced voice echoing to every corner of the throne room. A few murmurs started among the gathered ponies.
Her face buried in Celestia’s mane, Pinkie could feel the sun’s warmth on a late spring day, smell the wildflowers in the fields, and see the noonday glow through her eyelids. She could stay there forever, but, she remembered, the moon needed raising. The moon…
Pinkie backed away with a jolt, sniffled, and looked into Celestia’s stunned face with tear-filled eyes. Then she stepped over to Luna and hugged her as well. “I love you, too,” she said amid moonflower scent, the tingle of frost, and the moon’s pale aura. Luna’s tensed neck muscles gradually relaxed, and finally, her own hoof curled around Pinkie. “It’s the one thing you can’t make anypony give you, but I want you to have it.”
She managed to pull herself from the peace of Luna’s mane so that she could see the Princesses together. “I love you both, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t find something extra-special to show it better,” she said while Luna directed a vague, dreamy smile and unfocused eyes at her.
Celestia bowed her head to Pinkie and gathered up the only reply she could muster. “Thank you, Pinkie. It’s the perfect gift.”
“No,” said Pinkie, her eyes sparkling with life again. “It’s not just me. It’s not just Ponyville. It’s everypony. We all love you. I can tell you love us, and I want you to feel it back,” Pinkie proclaimed, flinging her forelegs wide apart.
“Is—is this true?” Princess Luna asked.
His brow knit, the stallion representing Baltimare spoke up after a momentary silence. “Well,” he said, shrugging, “to be blunt, yes. We thought Your Highnesses understood that.” More and more words of assent carried from the crowd, and Mrs. Cake began stamping her applause; soon, hundreds of ponies had joined in, their hoofbeats thundering through the castle.
“Leave it to the perfect party-thrower to be the perfect gift-giver too,” Celestia said. She and a speechless Luna both leaned in to nuzzle Pinkie. “I think it may be time for another change to this tradition. You’ve finally made them all appreciate their true intentions. Perhaps now we can make this the simple occasion we have always wanted.”
Twilight Sparkle appeared at Pinkie’s side and nudged her in the ribs. “See? I told you that you could do it. You just needed to trust us to trust you.”
Bending her head low, Celestia spoke into Pinkie’s ear. “You’ve made my sister very happy. Me too, but especially her. She needed to hear that.”
Pinkie giggled, and her cheeks turned a darker shade. “A wise pony told me to give from the heart.”
“Sound advice,” Celestia said with a knowing grin. “Oh, and Pinkie… if I did drop by Sugarcube Corner for a private visit sometime… you’d still make me a cake, right? Just a little one?”
Pinkie’s enormous grin belied her eye roll. “Princesses! Give them a little power, and they…”
Celestia puffed out her lower lip.
“Of course,” Pinkie said with a shake of her head. “But only if you bring Princess Luna too.”
Princess Celestia snapped a nod and licked her lips. “Done. And thank you. From both of us.”
Pinkie giggled and hopped up and down until a frown suddenly stole across her face. “But what kind of cake? Oh no, I’ll have to make it super-duper special, and… and…”
“Pinkie,” Twilight said flatly. “Just stop.”
Shrugging, Pinkie let out a guilty smile. She started back down from the throne, but heard Celestia’s voice once more, muted and rushed: “Yellow cake with chocolate frosting would be lovely, thank you.”
If only she’d known that two weeks ago...
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4057214
It's unpublished as yet... which will be rectified momentarily.
Damn, how do you do it!
4057446
Practice, practice, practice. And knowing which stories to bother trying with...
4057515
Also fantastic story.
Absolutely delightful! It's good to see the ruling bodies of Equestria getting some love.
The only drawback is that they'll keep getting regifted.
But who wouldn't enjoy that?
Congratulations; you've just made my extremely short 'favourites' list.
And most of those are primarily to keep track of stories in progress.
This was a truly magnificent and well written story! What a wonderful reminder to all that the best gifts are truly given from and with the heart.
... Tears. Any loving, considerate leader who sacrifices and slaves selflessly, they wouldn't ask for it, but this is just the thing they want. Sometimes they even need it and no one thinks or bothers to give it to them. Don't need accolades or expensive gifts... just a hug and to hear that everything they do is appreciated.
...Uranium?
I think I need a moment.
That was beautiful...
Great story
It was really sweet
This was a cute story. And the ending was perfect.
4061392 That would be yellowcake, one word. But I wouldn't be surprised if the Princesses ate uranium.
4061392
somepony watched Get Smart
4065594 Get Smart? No, I wasn't referencing anything, I do love that show though.
Positively adorable!
so, I forget the humble beginnings of the fancanon that celestia likes cake. Did it originate with Molly or Trolley?
Also, great story. it was very laughable. keep up the good work.
4071530 It was the episode where the CMC write gossip for the school newspaper and they get a picture of Celestia eating cake
Oh, the problems of structural engineering with food.....
Lovely story! I'm glad that Present Perfect recommended it! It felt a TINY bit wordy for being an uplifting Pinkie Pie slice of life story, but not at all enough to deter from reading.
I'm not generally the kind of person to link to my own stories in the comments of others, not usually, but this is kind of a funny coincidence. As soon as I read the exposition at the opening the story, I knew what Pinkie was going to give them... because I wrote an episode-style comedy of a somewhat similar concept a couple years back. They're very different stories in the end, because mine is lighthearted fun and yours builds up emotional momentum with a joyous payoff! It was just fun to see two people take a similar ending concept and get there through two different series of events, writing styles, and intended emotional impact. Heck, we even both had our stories focus on Pinkie and Twilight as the two main characters!
4071530 4072000 And then her love of cake was reinforced by the ending of MMMystery, at the dessert competition.
This was such a good read.
This was beautiful.
i.imgur.com/nzapftb.png
D'aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwww!
You certainly need to write Pinkie Pie more often.
And more watchers to appreciate your work too.
That was a great story. Not too long, great buildup, excellent ending. Greenthumbed!
A little love goes a long way.
Man... there's a story that really hits you in the feels. I just love it. Leave it to Pinkie Pie to think of the kind of gift that somepony that already has everything would like.
4064376 well at least celstia, i mean she move a giant nuclear reaction through the sky every day
4848087 Isn't the sun a fusion reaction, not a fission reaction? "Where hydrogen is fused into helium at a temperature of millions of degrees."
Speaking of, there's been much speculation that hydrogen-3, needed for some variants of fusion, is plentiful on the Moon. So Luna doesn't need to be left out.
Luna's return
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This bit is redundant. One or the other would suffice / grammatically accurate (since ordered = request (something) to be served, made, or supplied; and prepared = make (something) ready for use or consideration. So using both is litterally saying the same thing twice.)
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Tai Chi
[Short for Tai Chi Chuan [the martial arts Water Bending is based off of. Taijitsu is "body art" from Naruto.]
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Edit:
Re-read. Loved reading this the second time around, as much as I did the first. It's adorable as it is true.
4848087
4914722
Don't forget, Luna just isn't the moon. She raises every star in the sky. Even those stubborn, fussy Red Giants. Tia on the other hoof just raises a yellow dwarf. Luna's nuclear reactors in the sky are more numerous than her sisters. Tia's is just closer to the planet so it get's more recognition.
5693655
This is a valid structure in which an adjective follows. You see it in Latin, and it's often used in titles, though in English, we often insert "the," as in "Peter the Great."
This is also a valid structure. There's an implied "to be" in between the two. It's like how you can say "ordered the prisoner to be executed" or shorten it to "ordered the prisoner executed."
A Taijitu is a symbol.
5694297
Princess Luna Returned in and of itself is valid. "Year X of Princess Luna Returned" is not proper. Since it's stated like a holiday / event. You are stating that it was X year after the the return of Y. Thus it'd be possessive (Luna's), and return (not returned. Since yes she has returned from the moon, but the proper verb would be return (Since it is after she returned). At least in the structure given.)
And we aren't reading Latin, or even speaking it. This is something for englishreaders, as it's written, it's not written as a title. Rather a national event of so many years after Princess Luna returned from the moon. But it would be labeled, as "X Years of So-and-So's return."
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Not the same thing. Since both words literally mean the same thing. With slightly different phrasing on ther own. Both are litterally saying "We have made something to be made / served". So you have "We have made (something) to make (something) that was to create / make / serve you (something) that is maked / created / served for you."
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This last one I didn't know about. Thank you for pointing that out.
5694460
It's not just in Latin that this is done, but it serves as a good example, since it's the only way Latin does it. In any case, yes, this is a valid structure, your arguments about "this is an English-speakers' club only" notwithstanding. Take the English phrase "a woman scorned." It's the same construction. I don't get why it's such a sticking point, and it's not wrong. But at this point, if you remain unconvinced, I can't imagine there's any more headway to be made.
If it were redundant, then I could remove either word without changing the meaning. But if I remove "ordered," for example, it says the princesses prepared the food themselves, which isn't the case.
5694503
Because of what's in front of Luna returned. The whole "Year X of" changes the connotation. It flows wrong and reads oddly. Yes it has been so many years after she had "returned", but it's more accurate and reads better of "Year X of Princess Luna's return" since while she had "returned" from the moon, it's been awhile after her "return" from her banishment.
That’s the only thing that bugs me, without the Year of, it wouldn't read half as badly.
As for the English club bit. It's in the sitest rules. Write fics in English. Seriously, how many native English speakers (especially considering canon, as in show canon, where titles use the word "the" in them. Clover the Clever, Starswirl the Bearded, and The Great and Powerful Trixie, to name the most prominent.)
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Not exactly.
If they say ordered. It's accurate since they did order their staff to create X. But since they are in charge of things, technically, by way of mouth, have had others (by extension of decree / what ever oversight they have in the palaces budget) prepare X. It's technically the same thing since it was all created to their specifications for the event.
So yes in some light it can be considered they set it up. It's no more so than any other celebration they get set in motion.
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Still adorable fic, and I dId enjoy reading it as much as I did re-reading it. And technically 20 + weeks from now when waiting for my updated fic list to update will probably read again.
5694641 So I just showed you an example of how the construction is also used in English, and you're still going to deny it?
Here's a common phrase of exactly the same "year" type: In the year of our Lord.
It's fine to have a modifier in there. And it's also fine to put the modifier after the noun for artistic purposes:
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."
"I am Death incarnate."
"Enemy mine."
"My cousin twice removed."
"Bring me my fiddlers three."
Anyway, this story's gone through the grammar checkers at The Royal Guard, Equestria Daily, and The Writeoff Association, and they all thought these were fine.
5694842
It's not the same thin though structurally.
Yes:
"Year of our Lord", ends in a noun. Not "Year Three of our Lord Returned ."
Yes:
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned", Not "Year of Woman Scorned".
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By having year of, it gives the connotation, of her return having just happened, repeatedly. each year. Just as "Year X of Woman Scorned" has the statement that it's a continual event. And your other examples don't fit this context. At all. Yes those are actual sayings. I never said that "Princess Luna returned" in and of itself was wrong. Since Years ago she returned from the moon.
Yet its been years been years since her return. Wich is the grammaticaly accurate use. If you are goong to state that it's been a year or even years of the moment in which she returned. It's not accurate to state that it's year of X returned. It's not the correct ending.
Yes we have "In the year of our Lord", we do not have "Year 2015 Of our Lord Died", we have " Year 2015 after our Lord's Death." [AD = After Death [translated]]. It's all about how you use the word that gives it context. Returned, has an immediate usage "(We, I)have returned" is an immediate usage of return. "It's been so many years since your return," gives an effect that it happened in the past. Or in other context, "She will return someday" a past one.
But by stating a past or future use (you either will come back, or have already come back at an earlier point in time) . Return fits. Returned, is a present use of return
(since you have left, and have just arrived. You have returned from where you came from).
It's literally that simple. It's all about context of the use of the word. And how the words are placed together. Year One of Luna retured, is just as wrong contextually as "Year 2015 of our Lord Died". Both "our Lord Died", and "our Lord's Death" both are accurrate in various context. But The "Year of our Lord Died" contextually means that he died repeatedly once a year 2015 times.
Year X of Luna Returned, contextually is she left each year and returned.
But "Year X of Luna's return", like "After Death", signifies that it's commemorating X years after her return / the years after "she had returned from the moon."
Do you see hpw that bucking changes the connotation of the word at all? And people miss things all the time. I've know fics that have had thousands of people read it, and miss a small error here and there. It happens.
5694994 It is a continuous thing. It's not Xth year since Luna's return. It's the Xth year of Luna's returned status. If I phrased it as "The First Year of the Returned Luna," would you still have a problem with it? Because it's identical, just with the participle moved ahead of the noun. This isn't that difficult. I know my grammar. Ask around if you like. I can recommend some great grammarians who, to my knowledge, have never read the story, so wouldn't already have an opinion. Amacita, Burraku_Pansa, InquisitorM, horizon, Chris, GaryOak. Take your pick.
5695047
And that’s the bucking context. You never, ever state what the "returned" was in reference to, leaving up to the readers assumptions. Bucking hell, this all could be cleared up if you had what exactly you were referring to in the A/N. Since technically, after she returned from the moon, and was re-in stated as a Diarch. Her return from the moon would have been that, her "return".
Celebrating her "returned" status on the other hoof is contextually different. And nowhere in the fic is such a status mentioned. At all, for all we know (since its never mentioned in the show) no such status exists, and after some adjustment, she was considered a normal diarch without any special status attached to her.
Frell, a throw away line stating what such a celebration / occasion was celebrating / observing would clarify what Luna Returned meant would both give context, and clarity to an Event, that to my knowledge only exists in your fic.
Heck in Tia's words on Luna's return.
So yeah, additional reason for your word choice to be considered wierd before you clarifid it just now, since Celestia stated that she was celebrating Luna's return. Rather than any mention of a "returned" status.
5695152 I think the meaning is clear in context, and you are literally the first to have expressed any confusion about it despite dozens of people who are in the very business of reviewing stories having put it through the ringer. I'm happy to leave it as is.
5695180
*shrugs* meh.
Still other than wasting hours over something stupid, that could have been clarified 3 hrs ago. Doesn't change it's still an enjoyable fic. So yeah, whatever. Have a good evening.
5695180
Anyway this was bugging me so I'm just goin to say it.
Just because numerous people read something doesn't mean that errors don't exist. Icewindale Saga is a perfect example. In hundreds of pages there are exactly two spelling errors (actual ones, as in the words are mispelled). My copy's in storage, but I know there are tons of books out there that have the occassional rare errors.
The point being, those books had editors, and tons of people comb through it before publishing, and it still happens. Then you have the fact that either nooes pointed it out, nor cares to do so. So saying that you have tons of readers / editors going over somehing doesn't mean perfection. Since even in professionally published works you occassionally get errors, or stuff noone really cared to point out.
Anyways. That's off my chest, have a good rest of your evening, and I appologise for anything that might have came across as hostility.
That was beautiful. And quite useful in keeping my eyes properly clean and lubricated.
I reviewed this story in "Recommended Story Reviews #7".
My review can be found here.
OMIGOD, SO CUUUUTE!
FAVORITE FAVORITE FAVORITE TILL THE COWS COME HOME!!!!
This story is so cute and fluffy and... and.. extra fluffy!
Story is sweet as cake
Very sweet, and it got dear Pinkie down in the best possible way.
This was touching.