The Power of the Paper
The Power of the Paper
Graves was a big fan of newspapers. Go to any town of decent size and you got all the highlights of note for said town distilled into a simple, portable document. Maybe it was because he’d been a marshal for so long, but with employment that often meant fast travel and minimal acclimation time, the raven-haired soldier had quickly learned the strategic value of the newspaper. Knowledge was power, so it took less than two shakes of a lamb’s tail before he’d made their readings a regular practice.
Plus, it was a good excuse to have a cup of coffee, and you never pass up a chance at good coffee.
This morning, however, the marshal’s daily ritual took a slight detour. Just as he was settled in and about to take a sip of his piping-hot java, the front window exploded as Spike somersaulted into the room with a shower of broken glass.
“Nice entry,” Graves nodded as he gave the front page a skim. “Landing’s a bit rough.”
“Yeah, I’m working on it,” Spike replied as he quickly brushed the glittering shards from his purple windbreaker. “But that’ll have to wait. We’ve got trouble.”
“I see,” the marshal intoned. Barnyard Bargains was having a two for one sale on paper towels. He should probably make a stop today. “What kind of trouble?”
“Well…”
Spike took a deep breath and…
“So Rarity was having trouble finishing up the bridesmaids’ dresses for Fleur’s wedding – she and Fancy Pants are finally getting hitched, which is about time, if you ask me – but apparently there was a mixup with the communications so the dresses came out periwinkle instead of robin’s egg like Fleur wanted, which actually inspired Fleur to ask Rarity for a completely different sort of dress for them and since there are like, a dozen bridesmaids and each dress has to be thematically link, but individual and unique in a subtle fashion to create a pattern around the bride, or some such nonsense, Rarity didn’t have time to finish them all before the rehearsal dinner, so she went and got an ancient tome of super powerful magic that allows her to alter reality so she could finish the dresses on time, but the power pretty much went to her head like it always does and now she’s trying to redesign the world into a more fashionable existence, which is why Twilight and the others are keeping her trapped in Carousel Boutique while I came and got you because you might be able to talk some sense into her and hopefully keep us all from having to spend the rest of our foreseeable lives in pantaloons.”
Graves blinked.
“… Fancy Pants and Fleur still aren’t married?”
“Graves, focus,” Spike called as he patted the marshal’s cheek. “Ancient mind-bending magic and the fate of the world, remember?”
“Alright, alright,” Graves rumbled, his gravelly baritones slow and steady as he finally set his coffee down and went to grab his coat. “I’ll go and see what I can do.”
*****
As Graves stepped into the pristine confines of Carousel Boutique, he very nearly felt the door smack his backside as it quickly slammed shut. Rainbow Dash was all for letting him take a swing at Rarity – figuratively, of course – but ever since the runaway magic had given her cinnamon bun braids on the sides of her head that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard she tugged, it was sort of understandable how she wasn’t keen on taking any more chances.
“Rarity?” Graves called. “You in here?”
The marshal took a cautious step forward, his gunmetal grey eyes flickered around to scan the strange surroundings. Usually spacious and spotless, the inside of Rarity’s shop now stood cluttered with literal mountains of clothes as every place he looked held heaps and heaps of increasingly fantastical garments: an orange jumpsuit and metal headband lay crumpled in one pile, a stuffed eagle headdress crowned another, and… merciful heaven on high, was the canary yellow garment he spotted actually aquatically-viable lederhosen? Clearly, Rarity’s use of her reality-bending powers was robbing her of her fashion sense as well as her reason.
A flash of bright green light caught the marshal’s attention. Peering around a tower of platform shoes that were more platform than shoe, Graves caught sight of the young beauty as with glowing green hands, she pulled a pair of cast-iron clogs from thin air.
“Rarity?”
She spun around at the sound of his voice, her violet tresses swirling about in a chaotic mess as she fixed the marshal with an emerald gaze.
“Graves, darling!” she beamed, a slight twitch appearing at the corner of her rather maniacal smile. “Just the man I wanted to see!”
“Really…”
“Oh my, yes!” Rarity continued, taking a step forward as her smile grew even wider. “The girls won’t let me share my artistic genius with the world just yet, so I’ve been busy here, coming up with new designs for the next seventeen seasons.”
“That’s a lot of seasons,” he whistled.
“Yes, yes it is,” Rarity nodded as she pursed her lips in concern and took another step forward. “But by about hour three, I felt myself hitting a proverbial brick wall with my work. After all, one can only do so much without inspiration.”
“And I’m guessing that’s where I come in?” he asked with eyebrow arched. Rarity giggled like a tickled scientist of the mad variety as she raised her hands.
“You know, I’ve always wondered how you’d look in lace…”
An arc of brilliant, viridian light shot forth, but Graves was already long gone. Good thing, too, because the spot he’d been standing instantly bloomed with enough lacy frills to make a Victorian countess cry foul. Rarity fired again, but once more, the marshal remained a step ahead of her, ducking behind a Cthulhu’s worth of belts to avoid yet another blast.
“Hold still!” Rarity cried as blast after blast of foppish finery chased after the marshal. “I’m going to make you pretty and you’re going to like it!”
“Not a chance,” Graves called back as after dodging yet another shot, he finally made his move. Grabbing onto a knitted scarf of garish colors adorned with an oddly vegetal looking broach, the marshal did Tarzan proud as he swung around a pile of silvery-chrome onesies to land right behind lady’s six. Rarity twirled again, emerald eyes flashing as she raised her hands to unleash the full force of her dandifying might–
And blinked as Graves booped her nose with the morning news.
“Now that’s enough,” Graves sternly called as he brandished the rolled up paper towards the young lady’s face. “I know you were in a bind, but we don’t use dark magic to solve our problems.”
“But–”
Rarity yelped again as the roll bopped her once more and left a faint, gray smudge on the tip of her dainty, little nose.
“No buts,” Graves warned, his voice taking on tones suitable for a puppy who’d chewed through his umpteenth slipper. “Dark magic bad. Now you’re gonna let go of that sorcery right now or so help me, I’ll turn you over my knee and give you the paddling you deserve. Are we clear?”
Emerald green eyes stared back at gunmetal greys, defiance flashing brighter than even the unnatural light. Then, the glow receded, sapphire hues returned, and with a grace that would have had any antebellum lady seeing green, Rarity swooned right into the marshal’s expectant arms.
“Mmm… Graves?” the young lady called out as she groggily opened her eyes. “What happened?”
“Enchanted book, lost mind, power-fueled rampage,” the marshal shrugged. “You know, dark magic stuff.”
“Ugh, again?” she lamented through pursed lips. “Honestly, mess up one order and it’s the end of the world every time. I didn’t do anything I’d regret, I hope?”
“You tried to put me in lace.”
Rarity’s shudder went right down to the tips of her painted toes.
“Honestly, what was I thinking?” she grimaced. “Lace would go as well on you as brown belts with black shoes.”
“Yeah, still never understood that,” the marshal freely admitted, “but in the meantime, how’re you feeling? Can you stand?”
“I… think so.”
Graves nodded.
“Good. Because you’ve got some cursed hairdos that need unraveling. Let’s go.”
“Now?” Rarity gaped in dismay. “But I’m tired! Between the late nights and mind-wiping hexes, I need a few minutes to get some rest. Can’t it wait for just a little bit?”
“No, no it can’t,” Graves admonished as the stern tones returned. “When you make a mess, you’ve got to clean it up right away.”
“Then can I at least have some ice cream first?” the beautiful girl asked as she turned to the marshal with big, pleading pony eyes that shimmered with liquid adorableness. “Please?”
Graves blinked.
Then Rarity blinked as with a quick swat, he bopped her nose for a third time and spun the little lady around.
“After you finish. Now march.”
With a last swat of the newspaper roll to Rarity’s backside, Graves hustled Rarity towards the door where her fashion-enchanted friends were already beginning to peek in their curious heads. When it came to obligations, the raven-haired soldier was even more relentless than the passing of time, and he made sure Rarity knew there’d be no delightful, frozen dairy treats before she’d fully done hers.
Inwardly, however, he heaved a sigh of relief. Ever since he’d met her, he’d never quite been able to refuse those pleading eyes and he was afraid they’d be enough to break his resolve. But as luck would have it, all it took was a roll of daily journalism to let him – for the first time in forever – actually say no.
All hail the power of the paper.
**********
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And thus Rarity developed a fetish for being spanked with a newspaper. Which left a socially awkward moment when she was naughty, Graves put her over his knee and disciplined her, just as Sweetie Belle walks in.
This was glorious, truly it was!
And since the spell could only be lifted by the truth, I can only assume Graves is a kinky son-of-a-bitch.
memeorama.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/im-sickened-but-curious.jpeg
...
Guess what I'm wearing right now.
The power of the press is without equal! Hitting people on the head works too.
1:05 to 1:35 details the ideal way to hit people on the head.
I wonder if it was The Foal Free Press? That would be, metaphorically speaking of course, like Graves hitting Rarity on the nose with Sweetie Belle.
4368559
Lacey black shoes done up with brown straps? You barbarian rebel.
P.S. For the otherwise inclined, THIS video shows how to be hit on the head from 3:57 onwards.
4368643 literally the funniest things I've seen for awhile
Rarity should be very glad it wasnt the Sunday edition of The New York Times. I believe it has the capability to stop a cab.
4368482
U-unf.
'Rainbow Dash was all for letting him take a swing at Rarity – figuratively, of course – but ever since the runaway magic had given her cinnamon bun braids on the sides of her head that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard she tugged, it was sort of understandable how she wasn’t taking any more chances.'
I imagined humanized Rainbow Dash with a Princess Leia hairstyle and I just lost it.
4368482
"G-graves? What are you doing to Big Sis with that newspaper? And why are your faces red?"
"Sw-Sweetie Belle! My goodness, you startled us!"
"…Yeah, you did."
"Graves was simply helping me try a new…relaxation technique."
"Oh…can I see how it works?"
"…" *Graves and Rarity share an incredulous look, though the former's is slightly more bemused than the latter's*
…J, exactly how do you manage to make me feel this peculiar mix of heartwarming and hilarity in the same area of my chest?
Inspiration Manifestion the Journey of Graves way! Yeah, it basically works out in the same way although Graves has a slightly different way of forcing Rarity to face the truth.
Now, I'm wondering how Graves would react to the Twilight's Kingdom scenario with Rarity becoming a superhero!
good stuff.
Oh sh
t I've caught up 
Well, I'm about to
I don't know why, but this comment was perfect.
... See, it's shit* like THIS that makes it near damn impossible to RP Graves! XD He's too manly to properly capture. (Doesn't help that the GM has to be Rarity, and he can only understand her to so far an extent...)
*shit that is awesome, not shit that is crap
orange jumpsuit and metal headband.............
Hurmmmmmmmmmmmm... I might be reading to much into this but.....
This brings to mind a certain ninja fellow...
All hail the paper!
Huh. So not only the sword, but the pen is even mightier than black magic. Who knew? Also, loved the doctor who reference.
See? This. THIS! This is why we can't let print journalism die off!
6349700
So the world doesn't get turned into a fashionista's nightmare?
...
...That would be pretty cool actually.
Just wanted to say that your metaphors, similes, and analogies have won my inky, prose heart!
But I have brown boots with a black belt, is that just as bad? 😂
8735048
No. It's worse.
8736996
Y tho
9568196
B/c fashion pone says so.