But You Also Get Some Sun

by Exilo

Chapter 2: Ditzy Doo

Chapter 2: Ditzy Doo

Pinkie Pie once asked me who delivers my mail? Cause, I’m the mailmare, after all. ”Is there a mailmare who delivers your mail?” she asked. ”But then, who delivers her mail? Is there an infinite chain of mailmares delivering mail to other mailmares? I guess a P.O. box would solve that problem.”

She scurried off before I could give her the answer, which is actually pretty simple: I just pick up my own mail at the office. Not that I usually have any. I don’t get much mail. I don’t have many friends. I have friends though! I have really great friends, actually, but I see them almost every day, either when I deliver their mail, or when we hang out on the weekend. Every day, Turner gets tons of letters, so I get to see him a lot. I like seeing Turner. Even if he doesn’t have mail, I just go by the clock store and say hi every day if I can. Or he comes to see me. I like when he comes to see me, because he’s always really nice to me, and doesn’t rush me when he needs something…

Oh, but the letter! Yeah, I got a letter. I get so few letters, when I read the recipient, I actually tried to remember where Ms. Doo lives. I felt a little silly after that, but no one ever calls me Ms. Doo. They either call me Ditzy, or Derpy. The whole thing is kinda exciting, though. I feel like a little foal on Hearth’s Warming Day again, receiving my present. I’m super careful opening the letter, doing it the way I had seen Turner do it. First, I bite the right side of the letter, and hold it tight between my hooves, and with a sharp twist of my head, I tear open the envelope. Then I blow into the envelope and nip the edge of the neatly folded paper inside, and take it out and give it a read over.

Dear Ms. Doo,

I was pleased when Ms. Sparkle informed me you had RSVPed your attendance at the Grand Galloping Gala. Forgive the presumption, but I hope you have proper attire. If you do not, I have enclosed a small certificate for a tailored dress at the Carousal Boutique. Although I cannot say Ms. Rarity is my favorite mare in all of Equestria, her merits as a dressmaker are second to none.

Sincerely yours,
Prince Blueblood

And, I read the letter over again. And I read it over again. And I start to think…

You ever hear of a Cow’s Ball? See, it’s when stallions go out and try to find the ugliest mare they can, and bring them to a party. And, whoever gets the ugliest mare wins the party. I went to one, once. There was this stallion, a pegasus, who was… really, really handsome. Not just regular handsome, I mean… he was just gorgeous. We went to the same school and he invited me out once, and my heart skipped a beat. He told me all this stuff about how he liked how, even if I couldn’t do the routines the fastest, I always finished. I worked hard. He said he liked that. I bought a new dress, and I got my hair all nicely done. But, like I said, it was a Cow’s Ball.

I sent in the RSVP as a formality. I wasn’t going to even bother, but Ms. Cake said I should, so I did. It would be rude if I didn’t, she said. She said I would have a really good time. “Oh, if I were younger and thinner… If I were half as beautiful as you are… You should go, dearie. You should go and have a wonderful time. And I’ll tell you what, after it, you can come over. I’ll make you a muffin and some hot choco, and you can tell me all about it.”

I’m in a bit of a ditz as I make my mail rounds. The holiday season is over, so my mail bag is pretty light, and there’s nothing that needs to get to someone urgent. Still, I try to focus on the rounds. I like to think I’m good at being a mailmare, you know? It’s not my Cutie Mark or anything. I’m not totally sure what my Cutie Mark represents, but I’m good at being a mailmare. At least I like to think so.

A lot of ponies think I’m dumb. Its cause of my eyes, and that I’m kinda clumsy and can’t see really good, but I’m not dumb. I mean, I’d just love to see Rainbow Dash sort two tons of mail, plan out a route, lug a huge bag, AND get all the letters to everyone before the sunset. I do that five times a week, but no one really cares. It’s not fancy, or flashy, but it’s something I’m proud of doing, and something that needs to be done.

Fluttershy gets a small box, probably medicine for one of her pets. I guess that by how the box rattles when I give it a soft shake. I try knocking on her door to give it to her, in case she really needs it. She doesn’t answer. She never does. So I just leave the box against the door and trot off, and when I’m far enough away I hear her door open and slam. Looking back to it, the package is gone, and I giggle to myself.

Button Mash gets an invitation to some kinda game tournament in the city. I’m putting the envelope through the mail slot, when the door tears open. He snatches the envelope from my hoof, tears it open, and reads it over. And then he squeals like a little filly and tackles me, giving me a hug. I’m a little scared by it, but before I can say anything, he rushes back into his house, shouting, “Mom, Mom!”

Diamond Tiara gets… well, I’m not totally sure what it is. I never open mail. I know that’s against the rules. I can usually just tell what is in the envelope because of the return address and the receiver, and sometimes they tell me they are expecting something. But Diamond Tiara always kinda baffles me. Diamond Tiara is… well, she’s not a nice filly. I see what she does to that little Apple filly a lot, and I want to step in, but… you know.

Anyway, every few weeks, Tiara gets these letters. They don’t look like something she would get. They’re always bland brown paper envelopes. I always figure she would get envelopes that are jewel encrusted or something. There’s never a return address, and there’s never a receiving address. It only just says DIAMOND TIARA, in all caps, and in black ink that stands out against the light brown of the paper. The packages never rattle or bends.

Mr. Rich is always out on business, and Diamond Tiara seems to be left alone a lot at her house. She always answers the door. And, you know, it’s weird, but whenever she does, she’s not the Diamond Tiara I see in the village, picking on that little Apple filly. I don’t come with the letters every day, but every time I have one, she meets me at the door. I don’t even have to knock, so I guess she just waits there, staring out a window for me to come. Whenever I’m about five steps from the door, she opens it. I give her the letter, and she just tears it apart. I’m always afraid something delicate will be inside and it’ll be shredded by her hooves and teeth, but the content is always intact.

This time, like always, she opens the door. I reach into my bag and take out the brown envelope, just like all the others that I’ve delivered to her over the past couple months. She takes it, and this time she carefully opens it with her teeth. Blowing into the envelope, she takes out the letter, and reads it over.

I figure the letter is delivered and all. I turn to leave, but I hear Tiara sniffle, and turn around to look back at her. There are tears in her eyes, even as she tries to sniffle and keep herself from crying. I don’t really like Diamond Tiara. I’ve dealt with enough bullies in my life. But… you know; a little filly, mascara mushed and ugly on her face. I try to act like I don’t notice the tears, but I don’t really want to turn my back to her, in case she needs something. I stand there, sorting through my mail bag, like that’s the only reason I’ve stopped.

“Thank you,” she says. She’s never said thank you before. Something must be up with her. Letting the letter fall to the ground, she turns and closes the door behind her. Her movements are never sloppy or rushed. She moves kinda like a robot. The locks of the door tumble into place. I wait there, listening, and I hear her slump against the door and start to cry.

I know I probably shouldn’t pick up the letter, but… I’m curious. And, technically she’s opened the letter and discarded it. I’m not breaking any rules. It’s technically garbage. So I scoop up the letter and straighten out the wrinkles. Turning my head to the side so I can focus with my good eye, I give it a quick read.

Dear submitter,

I regret to inform you I cannot recommend your jewelry designs for a place in our catalogue. They are not up to the standards that we set for our name.

Sincerely,
Equestrian Jewelry Catalogue

It’s weird, huh? Such a small amount of words can leave you just crushed. And Diamond Tiara is a bully, and a jerk. I cringe each time I see her pick on the little Apple filly. She deserves to get hurt like this. But still… Well, I fold up the letter and slip it under my cap for safe keeping. Sometimes I see Mr. Rich on my route. I don’t think he knows about this stuff, what Diamond Tiara has been doing. I think… I think she’s his little princess, you know? I know it’s been a bit hard on him ever since his wife died. I see him in the bar sometimes, not that I drink! But I go with some of my friends, and I see him. I know this is just another thing for him to worry about, his little princess is sad, but I feel like he should know this, cause, I think she needs someone.

The Sugar Cube Corner is my next stop. Not for a delivery, even though I have got some stuff for Pinkie Pie. It’s noon though, so it’s time to eat, and I am really thinking about a muffin. Banana nut maybe. No, blueberry! Yeah, I really want a blueberry. I don’t know why, but I do. And I want to talk to Ms. Cake too, about some stuff. She’s always there for me. She always talks to me, and she calls me dearie, and she makes me muffins, and she’s good to give advice about some stuff that’s on my mind.

But, when I arrive, Ms. Cake isn’t behind the counter. Neither is Mr. Cake, who I like, but not as much as Ms. Cake. Instead, it’s Pinkie. And… Rainbow Dash… Pinkie Pie is behind the counter, and Rainbow Dash is sitting at the counter, and they’re talking, so they don’t seem to notice me. I think about just leaving, finishing my route, and then going home to make something, but Rainbow Dash speaks up.

“Hey, Derpy! Come on, have a seat.”

I bite my lip as I trot over and sit down at the stool two away from Rainbow Dash. She scoots next to me and, rather forcefully, pats my back. “Whatcha having Derpster?”

“I got just what you want!” Pinkie Pie shouts. In the time it takes me to blink, a cupcake is down in front of me. It smells of cinnamon, or maybe gingerbread, and the frosting is super white, like freshly washed sheets. It smells good, and I’m starving by now, but I have a really bad feeling. It’s not too hard to see they are setting me up for a prank. What Pinkie Pie says next pretty much seals it. “It’s my newest confectionary concoction! Vanilla Bean EXPLOSION! Go ahead, Derps. Give it a taste.”

I look to Pinkie, and her bright, blue eyed smile, and to Rainbow Dash, and her more reserved, magenta eyed grin. It’s a prank of course. And I can guess what sorta prank, too. I try to smile and bring the cupcake to my mouth. My teeth sink into the coating of frosting. With a low sigh, I close my eyes.

I’m not surprised by the splash of coolness on my face, or the raucous laughter of the two other mares. With a sigh, I wipe the frosting from the exploding cupcake out of my eyes and look around. Rainbow Dash is grinning like a toothy monster. Pinkie Pie has her face down and is pounding the counter with a hoof.

“Oh, we got you good!” the pink one shouts.

I try to laugh it off, and I try to smile. “Yeah, you did. Nice one.” Again, I try to wipe the frosting off my face, but only succeed in getting my hoof covered in it. I want to wipe it on the counter, but then it would just be a mess for Pinkie to clean up.

Rainbow Dash offers me a towel. I stretch my hoof out to take it, but pull it back. “Hey, Derpy,” she says. “Really. No tricks.”

“It’s alright,” I try to say, though I can feel my voice crack. Scooting off the stool, I trot to the bathroom in the back of the dining area.

The hot water feels good on my fur. The icing comes out without much problem, and even leaves a rather nice, vanilla-y scent. Pinkie Pie didn’t mean to be mean, after all. Not like she would mix crazy glue into the frosting or anything. Rainbow Dash didn’t wanna be mean, either. They think it’s all in good fun. They even think they are doing something good for me, letting me in on the prank. After all, best thing in the world is to laugh at yourself, right?

But it’s different for them, cause they have real friends. And they have friends who laugh with them, not just at them. That’s the difference. Everyone just always laughs at me.

I go back out and fetch my mailbag. Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash are back to chatting, so I leave. Pinkie Pie shouts something, but I can’t make it out. Probably just a joke. I just want to leave, finish my route up, and go home. After rummaging through my bag, I see my next delivery is to Time Turner, which brightens my day. I like Turner. I like him a lot. He’s really nice, and he’s really handsome, and he calls me “Dee-Dee.” He’s the only one who ever calls me Dee-Dee.

I trot to his house/workshop. It’s right in the center of town, not far from the bakery actually. It’s a really nice building, two stories, with a pair of double doors that are circular, and in the appearance of a clock. The door-clock isn’t actually a clock. That’d be just too cool, but it’s still something unique that lets me pick out the building with ease. Setting my bag down, I rap my hoof against the door. No answer. I knock a little harder, a little faster, but still no answer.

I roll my eyes, and giggle to myself as I take off my cap. The letter from Diamond Tiara is still there. Moving it aside, I retrieve a small key and fit it into the door’s lock. The door is heavy. Probably because it’s so showy and has so many decorations, but I’ve opened it before. I use my weight to push against it and step inside as quietly as I can.

“Doc?” I call out. I call him Doc cause, a long time ago, there was a joke I made. I don’t remember the joke. Neither does he. But I call him Doc still, cause I like it, and he says he doesn’t mind. Like I said, he calls me “Dee-Dee.” He says he really likes my name, my real name. He calls it aitertive or something.

“Doc?” I call out again. He gave me a key so I could come inside and leave his mail on the desk. Sometimes he’s out, or busy, or just can’t come to the door, and he’s afraid of his precious letters getting lost if I just left them in the mailbox. The ornate door doesn’t lend itself well to a mail hatch, unfortunately.

I put his big bundle of letters on the checkout desk, and lean forward to peek into the back. “Turner?” I call out.

Biting my lip, I walk around the counter and head into the back. There’s a long, long hallway that leads to a stairwell that goes up to Turner’s bedroom (don’t ask how I know that), but to the left of the hallway is Turner’s workshop, and that’s where I find him. He’s sitting there, with his back to me, and staring at a grandfather clock that’s probably twice his size. I peak my head into the room and rap my hoof on the ground. The noise startles him enough for him to jump into the air, and he ends up falling on his cute rump. I hide my mouth with my hoof and giggle softly.

Turner has the nicest blue eyes. They’re not like Pinky’s, no. They’re darker, and… smaller, but not small in a bad way. They’re rich, and deep, and handsome, like the rest of him.

“Hey Dee-Dee,” he says, stifling a yawn with his hoof. “Need me to sign for the box of clock hands?”

“Uhm… Doc, I gave you that package yesterday.”

Turner closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You did? What… day is it?”

I take a step closer. “Doc, you OK?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine, thanks. I just…” He cocks his head over his shoulder, gesturing to the clock that is standing behind him. “Mr. McIntosh dropped this off yesterday, just after you left… I think. His little sister was playing with some of her friends, and she accidentally broke it. He came over, asked if I could fix it and have it done tomorrow… or today…” Turner’s eyes open wide. A look of… utter fear sweeps over his face. I bite my lip, worried I had done something wrong. “By the sun, I’m going to be late,” he nearly screams. “I’m going to be late!”

He sits down, head held in his hooves. I walk over, giving him a little push. “Doc, it’s alright. You and I can just bring it over to the farm right now. I’ll help you. Or I can find someone to help you.”

“No, no, you don’t understand… There’s one piece I just couldn’t make fit.” Turner’s blue eyes are quivering. I think he’s on the brink of tears. He puts a stool before the clock and takes a step onto it. I use my wings and flutter at about his shoulder. Opening the face of the clock, he reveals the dozens of turning and twitching gears, all seeming to kinda spaz. “There… I just… put the whole thing together. I was up all day and all night trying to finish it, but the last piece is just this tiny little gear that’ll make the whole thing work. Last night… or this morning, I wanted to fix it, but I was tired. My hooves were shaking. I just wanted to take a break, just a minute… I must have fallen asleep…”

“Doc,” I say. “It’s alright. Look, just put it in now, and we can deliver it.”

Turner leaps off the stool and races to his table. In a mad scramble, he throws papers and springs onto the floor until he picks up a small magnet, which is mounted at the end of a shaft. Magnetized to the tip is a gear I have to squint to even see. Holding the magnet shaft with the tip of his hoof, Turner carefully climbs onto the stool and leans forward. Slowing my wings, I stand on the ground and keep quiet as he pushes the shaft towards the gears.

I don’t move. I don’t breath. I try to keep my heart from beating too loud. I know Turner needs to concentrate. I would leave, but I am afraid of how much noise my hooves would make pounding over the ground, and chances are I would end up tripping on something and making an awful racket. So I just stand there, watching, until Turner leans back and leaps off the stool.

“My hoof won’t stop shaking,” he says. “I promised Mr. McIntosh I would finish the clock by today but I can’t finish it. I am going to be late… I AM GOING TO BE LATE!”

I put my arm around Turner’s shoulders. Unsure, I move my other arm forward, and try to hug him, but thinking better of it, I nonchalantly place my hoof on the ground. If Turner notices, he doesn’t act like he does. “I can… try putting it in,” I say.

He looks to me. He tries to smile. “Ditzy, you remember what happened last time, don’t you? If the cog gets dropped, it’ll be in the clock’s innards, and I’m going to have to take the whole thing apart to find it again.”

“You’re right,” I say, and try to smile too. Why are we both smiling like this? Do we think we are fooling the other? I shrug. “I just thought I would offer.”

I hate the patronizing almost as much as the pranking. At least Rainbow Dash is up front about it. She’s just always a jerk. But Turner… just say it, alright Turner! I’m a klutz. I’m a derpy eyed fool, and there’s no way I could do something as delicate as putting a cog in-

“Can you?” he asks. “Do you think you can put it in? I just… my nerves are shot, Dee-Dee. Right now, I’m seeing three of you, actually.”

He retrieves a flashlight from the table and climbs back onto the stool. I take to the air, flapping just over his shoulder. Shining the light inside the clock, he shows all the clock’s gears and innards. “Right there. Look close at the very middle. Where three of them should meet, there’s a little hole. Do you see it?”

One of my eyes is closed. The other is focused. I think I see what he’s talking about. Well, I hope I see what he’s talking about and not some second hole with three gears.

He leaps off the stool and hands me the magnet. “Be careful, Ditzy.”

I nod. Holding the tool in my hoof, I bring it into the clock’s gears. Turner holds the light for me. He’s on his hind legs and leaning against the clock, peering up into it and providing me with light. I focus on the little spot, the one I think is what he was talking about. Come on Ditzy, focus. Move slow, move careful. You’re not in any rush. Just this once, don’t be a klutz. For an agonizing moment, I’m not going to be able to see where I’m sticking the gear. My grey hoof is gonna fill the entire face of the clock as I push it forward. I try to focus, and act like I know what I’m doing, and when I feel resistance, I quickly stop. Turner dips lower and peers into the open clock.

“That’s good Ditzy, you got it. This is important though. Give the magnet a sharp twist, tip it down, and pull it back. If you pull it wrong, the gear will get yanked out of place and might get lost. Just be careful, and do it quick.”

Twist, tip, pull back. Twist, tip, pull back. Twist, tip, pull back. Twist, tip, pull back.

Twist, tip, pull back.

I hold my breath as I look to Turner, hoping for some signal that I’ve done good. Stepping off the stool, I trot back, while Turner places the clock’s face forward. I hear a tick, and see the second hand of the great grandfather clock start to move around the face in a little circle.

Turner turns to me, tears in his eyes. I cringe as he comes closer. I… I almost expect him to slug me for screwing up, but he wraps his arms around my middle and lifts me off the ground, holding me in a snuggly hug. He’s strong, but then, he’s an earth pony and all, so it’s not that surprising. His grip is firm, and his body is warm, and all I can think is, this is Turner hugging me! These are his arms wrapped around my back, it’s his warmth soaking through, it’s his heart pounding against my chest, meeting the pace of mine… I’m kinda embarrassed when my belly gurgles. Or, maybe it’s his, which just makes me giggle.

He takes a step back. A blush is on his face, perhaps as he realizes he was acting quite out of character. I’m breathing heavy, but my breath completely stops as he takes hold of my hooves. “Thank you so much, Ditzy.”

I feel my cheeks flush red. “I-it was nothing… It’s something you do all the time…right?”

“Ditzy.” I look to him, and he’s looking quite stern, quite serious. “Ditzy, thank you so much. I couldn’t do this, so it is everything.”

I nod. My heart is racing. My breath is short. “I gotta… I gotta go to the orchard. I still have to deliver their mail. Why don’t we get this over there? And I can just deliver the rest of the mail on the way.”

“Yes, yes. Yes of course!”

I let Turner take the lead with what we do. I’m not exactly gonna let what I did go to my head and think I know more about moving clocks than he does. I listen to him, duck when he tells me to, lift when he tells me to, and we move super slow. I don’t mind. I would rather go slow.

I’m with Turner. I helped Turner. And he hugged me! Time Turner hugged me!

Author's Note:

This was a tricky chapter to do. I want all the characters who narrate a chapter to sound distinct. Blueblood is very formal, very slow paced. Ditzy is the opposite. She’s much more relaxed and colloquial, but at the same time trying to hide a deeper sadness.

Comments

[TheyCallMeBeanz]

I'm so glad this chapter came out, earlier I was fearing that this story was going to ship Blue with Ditzy/Derpy, not that there's anything wrong with that pairing, but I just can't see this Blue as anything but a bachelor. Seeing Ditzy's interaction with Time Turner make me hope those two end up together.

[Exilo]

3865385 I know what you mean. I never intended to ship Ditzy and Blue. Even in the first chapter, Blue mentions he’s old enough to be Ditzy’s father. I didn’t put this in the shipping group, someone else did, so I hope people aren’t mistakenly reading this. If anything, I wish this would pop into a Ditzy group.

But yes, I think of Ditzy and Turner together. As time goes on, I could see Blue getting into relationships, such as with the Spa Pony or Trixie, but it never sticking.

[Charzoid]

3869407 Sorry about putting this in shipping,I assumed it was blue/ditzy because of the image.

[Exilo]

3869852 It's quite alright. I've just had people complain about the groups some of my fics go in, when I'm not the one who puts them there. I just hope that people won't get the wrong impression about this fic.

[FashionablyHospitable]

A bit of unrequited Blue/Ditzy would be interesting. Angsty Blue, fluffy Ditz/Turner.

[Exilo]

3967627 I have some plans for how to do them. Ditzy might feel something, but I just can't see Blue as having anything deeper, save maybe with Trixie.

[Holydude]

I worry about turner.

[Exilo]

9188770
I believe, when I was writing this: Turner has OCD. Additional fics and my written notes show that Ditzy does a phenomenal job helping him adjust. Take it easy. So he is doing good in my canon;