Chapter the Eighth
October 3rd, 2025
“Just one more time.”
“Tia, I think that’s enough.”
“Please Daddy?” Sweetness drips from her voice as she turns large, liquid eyes up to her father, adopting a face that’s equal parts hopeful and sad.
“No, I don’t think we need to…”
“Please?” Luna’s expression mirrors her sisters, and she manages to put a slight tremble into her lower lip as she looks at Ryan.
Gazing down, Ryan huffs in annoyance. They know exactly the effect those expressions have on him. They do it on purpose. He scowls at them, trying to maintain his stern exterior. He’s an adult damn it, he’s the adult, and if he says enough is enough, then it is. They continue to look at him, their body language shy bordering on timid, and he feels his chest tightening. He opens his mouth to tell them no, but closes it a moment later, the word unuttered. In the end, he simply cannot stand up to such a display. He’d think it was some form of magic, if they hadn’t already been doing it for years. Sighing in defeat, he nods his head. “One last time, then you two get to your chores. And that is that, Celestia Marie.”
Radiant, excited smiles blossom on their faces, and he chuckles in spite of himself. Resettling in the straight backed kitchen chair, he lays his arm along the cool,, wooden table top beside him. Taking a moment, he forces the limb to go as limp as he can, watching the intense look of concentration that comes over his eldest daughter.
She focuses, and a golden nimbus of light bursts from the alabaster spiral of her horn, shifting and undulating gently, throwing soft, ill-defined shadows behind the objects lined up next to his hand. Moving her eyes to the first object, his key ring, she makes a little sound of effort, and a similarly colored glow envelops them, causing them to rise about a foot from the table’s surface, rotating slowly with a light jingling sound. She’s getting better at this, and Ryan feels a small swell of pride. Luna watches intently from beside her sister, excitement gleaming in her eyes.
Setting the keys back down with a small clinking sound, she moves on the next item, a ball point pen with an aluminum casing. This rises and spins in place for a moment, swapping tip for cap a few times before descending to balance on its point, finally falling over once the glow encasing it has vanished. Next is a book, and after that is one of the coffee cups from the cupboard. Finally, she focuses on his arm, and his shirt sleeve is enveloped in that shifting amber glow. He tenses involuntarily, muscles tightening, before managing to return the limb to limpness. He always expects that he should feel something when she does this, but as usual his arm feels nothing, except the tightening and pull of the fabric as it’s manipulated.
Narrowing her eyes in concentration, she lifts part of his shirt sleeve, causing his arm to bend at the elbow. She wags it back and forth gently, causing him to wave at them and eliciting a giggle from her younger sister. Laying his arm back on the table top, the glow enveloping his sleeve changes, contracting down to a band about the width of his wrist. This band travels from mid-bicep to elbow to mid-forearm, feeling a little like a moving blood pressure cuff, stopping at each location to lift or bend his arm. It finally travels to his shirt cuff, and Celestia’s concentration intensifies, her brow furrowing.
The band of light stops at the edge of the fabric, flickering unsteadily, retreats a few inches then returns more forcefully. He watches this for a few moments before glancing over, and as he looks from the glowing band traveling up and down the sleeve of his red and grey checked work shirt he sees that large beads of sweat have sprung out across Tia’s face. Frustration is growing on her features, and she begins to make little sounds of exertion each time the light travels back and stops abruptly, like she’s physically pushing at something she can’t move. “Sweetheart, that’s enough.”
She doesn’t hear him, and continues, more vigorously still, the glow around her horn growing brighter, the band traveling up the length of his arm and racing down, faster and faster, stopping in the same place every time. The force of it is beginning to pull his arm forward along the table’s surface. Luna’s eyes flick from her father to her older sister, unease beginning to fill them. “Tia, that’s enough.”
Celestia continues, starting to pant a little, her frustration beginning to turn to open anger, and Ryan reaches out with his free hand, laying his palm along her cheek. The contact startles her, the light winking out from her horn and his arm as she turns wide, surprised eyes up to him. Cupping her face gently for a moment, he reaches up and brushes away a soft pink curl of her mane that’s fallen across her forehead. “That’s enough sweetheart.”
“I don’t understand.” She breaths up at him, sides moving rapidly, her tone flustered and almost pleading. “Why can’t I grab your hand?”
“I don’t know honey.” He says gently, looking down at her with a soft expression. “The same reason you can’t grab my leg, or my foot, or move my hair. I guess magic doesn’t work on humans.” Leaning forward he brushes her nose with a kiss. “That’s just the way it is.” Standing, he begins gathering the assorted objects from the table.
“But…”
Stepping over to the counter Ryan opens a cupboard, speaking over his shoulder. “It’s time for your chores. You two need to pick up your rooms and get your laundry together. And don’t forget the towels from your bathroom this time, please.”
Luna shoots her sister a commensurate look, before standing and trotting out of the kitchen. Celestia sits for a moment longer, catching her breath and staring at the table. It just doesn’t make any sense. Everything is made of the same stuff, after all, and so far she’s been able to manipulate anything she tries to. Anything except her father. It just doesn’t make any sense.
Ryan startles her out of her thoughts by placing a hand on her shoulder. Looking back at him, her delicate rose tinged eyes meet the dark brown of his, and he sees a welter of emotions on her face. Frustration, confusion. Fear. “Dear heart, some things just are, with no rhyme or reason to it.” Stepping around in front of her he goes to one knee, hand resting on the side of her neck. “Tia, what you have is a gift. What you can do is amazing. Beyond amazing. There are many who would call it miraculous.” He holds her eyes with his own. “You can do so much, so many things that nobody else can do. Things you shouldn’t be able to do.” He watches her expression. He has a pretty good idea what this is about. “Even if you can’t grab my hand, or my arm, or whatever, you can still pull me around by my clothes. That’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”
Swallowing, she breaks eye contact for a moment, looking down at her hooves before returning her eyes to his. “But what if…” She falters for a moment, her throat working up and down in another swallow before continuing, the words leaving her mouth hesitantly. “What if something happens again, something like last time, and I can’t help you? What if…” She cuts off, blinking moisture from her eyes.
She retained only blurry memories of what had happened seven months ago, confused, vague impressions of being sick and wet and lost. The one thing she did remember clearly was pulling him from the path of their old truck as it rolled down the hill, of him being hurt. She’d had nightmares about it, after. True, those had eventually faded, but they had in-turn been replaced by a growing need to understand why she couldn’t affect him directly, a drive to figure out why she could only seize onto the clothes and items he wore.
Sliding his arm around her back, he leans forward and embraces her, pulling her into his shoulder. Her breath catches and she presses into him, drawing in the comforting, familiar smell of her father. He holds her close for a moment, before drawing back, reaching up to gently wipe an errant tear from her eye. “But you did help me, dear heart. You were able to, even though you had to grab me by my jacket.” Fixing her eyes with his, he leans closer. “Tia, something you’ll learn as you get older is that there are things in this world that you cannot control or change, no matter how hard you try. That’s simply the nature of things. And you can’t get so caught up worrying about the things you can’t do that you lose focus on the things that you can.”
She gazes up at him, her eyes large and vulnerable, worry and fear and a slight helplessness lining her face, highlighting her features. The sight breaks his heart a little. “But…what if I can’t, Dad? What if, for whatever reason, I can’t?”
Leaning forward again, he kisses her on her forehead. “You will. You can do wonderful, amazing things Celestia Marie, and if you can’t do something one way, then I know you’ll figure out how to do it another.”
The confidence she hears in his voice lifts her spirits, dispelling some of the weight that seems to have burdened her so much lately. Studying her father’s face for a moment, she sees no ambiguity or misdirection, but only his absolute trust in her. Sighing, she laughs a little shakily. “OK, Dad.” Stretching, she raises her muzzle to give him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks.”
He reaches down and rubs her ear softly, smiling. “Now, I don’t want to hear any more about what you can’t do, young lady. From now on, I only want to hear about what you can.” Moving his hand he tickles her beneath her chin, causing her to pull back with a giggle. “Understood?”
Smiling, she nods her head, and he rises to his feet, ruffling her mane as he walks back to the kitchen sink. “I’ll only tell you about the things I can do from now on.” She frowns down at her hooves. “When I figure them out, anyway.”
Looking back over his shoulder he shoots her a grin. “Well, your old man already knows something wonderful that you can do.”
“…What?” She hesitates. She doesn’t like the look of his smile. He meets her eyes, and her heart sinks a little as his grin grows broader.
“You can go clean your room.”
****************
“It’s sort of difficult to explain, it’s like a tensing feeling, like a muscle, only not so physical. More like the idea of a muscle.”
Luna stares at her older sister with a blank expression. “The idea of a muscle.”
“Yeah, it’s like…like this. Look, press your hoof on the floor, like you’re trying to push the floor away.” Watching Luna hesitantly press her hoof into the carpet, Tia nods her head. “Can you feel the pressure in your leg? How your leg muscles are flexing?””
Luna gives a slow nod, a confused look on her face.
“It feels sort of like that, only it’s in your mind. You look at something, like that magazine over there, and you sort of…reach out to it, like, you really want to pick it up.” Tia suits action to word, looking at an old copy of Popular Science that’s lying on Luna’s dresser. “You want to pick that magazine up…and you have to be clear in your mind about what you want to do, otherwise it won’t work…but you want to pick that magazine up, so you focus on it, and you get that muscle feeling in your head. And that warmth sort of flows into you,” Focusing, Celestia’s horn begins radiating a soft amber light, “and you just sort of reach out, and grab it.” A similar glow envelopes the magazine, and it rises from its place to float across the room, stopping to spin lazily in place as it reaches her. “And when you’re done, you just sort of let go,” the glow vanishes from the magazine, and it drops to the floor in a gentle rustle of pages. “And that’s it. It takes kind of a lot of concentration at first, but the more you get used to doing it, the easier it becomes.”
Luna looks uncertainly down at the periodical, studying it before glancing up at her older sister’s still glowing horn. She had begun to feel the warm sensation that Tia had so often described about a week before their birthday, although thankfully she had had no headaches or dream weirdness. Her sister had spent the last few weeks since then trying to help her get a grasp on her magic. So far, all she’d managed to do was listen to Tia explain it a dozen different ways, and to feel like she was standing in sunshine no matter where she was.
To say her lack of progress was becoming frustrating would be to understate things. She’s been waiting, eagerly, for this, and now that it’s finally started, she wants to be able to do things. All kinds of things, like her sister does. She needs to be able to do things, and she needs to be able to do them right now.
Their father had been understandably concerned when Luna told him that she was experiencing the same thing that Tia had, but the fact that she hadn’t developed any of the negative effects seemed to have soothed him, for the moment anyway. She still sometimes caught a worried expression on his face when he didn’t know she was looking, though, like she might come down all feverish and crazy at any moment.
Shaking her head to clear it, Luna takes a deep breath. “OK, so I focus on the magazine.” Looking down, she narrows her eyes, focusing on the cover, the smooth outline, the colorful photo on the front, the soft, diffuse reflection of the ceiling light from the glossy surface. “And I imagine a muscle in my brain.” Gaze intensifying, she tries to remember the feeling of her leg pressing against the floor, the sensation of her muscles tightening and bunching.
“And you have to want to pick it up. You have to want to affect it.”
“I want to pick it up.” Luna takes another deep breath, staring down at the magazine. “I want to pick it up.” Her eyes narrow as she concentrates. Her senses begin to contract, compressing and boiling under the weight of her focus. “I want to pick it up.” Her surroundings fade away from her consciousness. There is only her, and the magazine. “I want to pick it up!” She imagines herself reaching out, grasping the publication, enveloping it in a shimmering golden glow like her sisters, a glow that is equal parts magic and her own will. Grasping it, lifting it. Lifting it into the air. “I want to pick it up!”
Nothing’s happening.
“I want to pick it up!” Her brow wrinkles, and her focus begins to slip. Nothing’s happening. “I want to pick it up!” Notes of exasperation, colored with a slight desperation begin to enter her voice. Nothing’s happening, and why should it? She can’t do this. “I want to pick it up!” She’ll never be able to do this. She’ll never be like her sister. She can picture it in her head, years from now, her dad and her sister having to do everything for her because she’s still helpless. “I want to pick it up!” They’ll smile and tell her it’s OK, that it’s not her fault, and then they’ll go along and do things for themselves, and she’ll become their burden. “Pick it up!” She doesn’t want to be a burden, she doesn’t want to be helpless. “Pick it up!” Why tease her with this? Why let her feel the warmth when she can’t use it? “Pick it up!” That’s not fair! That’s not right!
“Aaarrrgghhh!” A shapeless yell of frustration fills the room, echoing off of the walls and ceiling, and it takes her a moment to realize it’s coming from her. Her eyes are watering, tears of strain and frustration beginning to mark damp trails in the fur of her muzzle, her jaw is tense, teeth gritted, causing tendons to stand out in her neck. Her head is beginning to throb, more likely exertion than anything else. And suddenly, she can feel it. For a split second she can feel it exactly like her sister described. There’s a flexing, bunching sensation in her head, and she can feel the warmth flowing into her, flowing through her.
Brilliant sapphire light explodes from the top of her field of view, its sudden and unexpected appearance making her squint, and the magazine jumps up, enveloped in flickering hues of deep blue, tumbling erratically before flying across the room and impacting against the far wall with a muted thump. It hangs there a moment, the clean, white plaster contrasting starkly with the fitful azure glow that’s pressing the magazine against the wall. A second later the glow encompassing the publication disappears, and a moment after that the glow from her horn winks out as well.
The whole scene takes all of a couple of seconds to play out, and as the light vanishes from the top of her vision Luna slumps down into a sitting position, her sides heaving as she tries to catch her breath, her wings hanging limply. Her eyes sting, and she blinks several times before realizing that she’s covered in sweat. She feels tired, almost ragged, and strangely sore all over, like she’s been running all day, although all she did was stand there, but…it had moved. She had moved it.
Celestia pads over, settling close to her sister, her eyes widened in startlement. “Sis, are you OK?” Upon receiving a nod, she breaks out into a grin. “You did it! You…did you mean to throw it like that?”
“No,” Luna pants, her breathing still rapid but starting to slow. “I only wanted to… pick it up.” She looks up at her sister, an answering grin forming on her muzzle. “I…I did it, didn’t I?” Suspicion momentarily narrows her eyes. “You didn’t do anything, did you?”
Laughing, Celestia leans down to nuzzle her sister’s neck affectionately. “No, I didn’t do anything, Luna.” She glances at her sister’s horn. “That wasn’t even the same color. I wonder why…” She trails off, before giving her head a shake and returning her eyes to her sister. “I was actually telling you to stop, you looked like you were about to burst something.”
“You were telling me to stop?”
“Yeah, but you weren’t listening. You just kept mumbling to yourself, and then you yelled, and, well, it happened.” Extending a wing, she envelopes Luna in a brief hug, smiling at her. “You did it, sister.”
Gazing across the room at the disheveled magazine, Luna lets out a breath, her eyes growing wide with wonder. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
****************
“Stocks tumbled fifteen points today, on the surprise announcement that defense contractor Paradyne Subsystems will not be merging with Northop Grumman Consolidated. Bill Paxley, a spokesman for Paradyne, held a press conference this morning in which he stated…”
Grunting sourly Ryan turns off the television, standing and giving his back a small stretch. That news was unfortunate. Reaching down, he makes a note on a near-by pad of paper to check the extent of the damage later. Things had changed over the last ten or so years. When Ryan had first started investing, the big money had all been in green energy firms and technology companies.
However, the market followed global trends, and those stocks had slowly sank until they were worthless. With the current state of the world- the resurgence of communism in Russia, the formation of an anti-NATO coalition spearheaded by China, terrorism and the oil troubles in the Middle East- defense contractors, always a reliable investment, were the new hot commodity, and he’d shifted his investments over accordingly.
Paradyne had been one of his first forays into the world of defense companies, and he’d bought quite a lot of stock in it when it’d first come to market. He stays with it now out of, what he admits, is more illogical sentimentality than good investing sense.
He’d started idly playing the market about ten years ago, more as a hobby than as anything serious. The money left to him by his parents and grandfather was substantial, and had been enough to keep first him, and later his odd but wonderful family going comfortably, but it wouldn’t last forever. He’d discovered an unexpected talent for it in himself, however, and since then what had started out as an idle hobby had subsequently grown into a more serious endeavor. He’d done surprisingly well too, creating a pretty stable source of revenue and building up a rather impressive portfolio.
There was another reason as well. Like the inheritance, he knows that he won’t last forever, either. He doesn’t feel like he’s about to turn forty, but that day, several weeks from now, is rapidly approaching, a milestone marking his progress on what has turned out to be a strange yet fulfilling journey. He knows however that journeys, by their very nature, must have an end, a destination to be reached. He’s not reached his destination yet, nor does he plan to for some time, but increasingly he’s become aware that there is one.
One day he’ll be gone, and when that day comes he’s determined that the girls will be taken care of. They will have need of, and want for, nothing. He’s determined to leave them set up in such a way that they’ll be safe from the outside world after he’s gone, leave them in a place where they never have to worry about what happens outside the fence the surrounds the property. So he invests, he trades, building on the remainder of the money bequeathed to him by loss. The house and the land are already owned outright, so there’s no worry there, but he has plans, some ambitious, some that just make good sense.
While it feels good to have a plan to take care of his daughters after he’s gone, such thoughts often leave Ryan feeling a little down, and he shakes his head, trying to dispel the melancholy that attempts to settle over him. There’s nothing to be done about it after all, and in the mean time, he has other things to focus on, or worry about, depending on your outlook.
Such as Luna’s burgeoning magical ability.
That recent development brings with it both immediate relief, and additional worry. She hadn’t had any of the problems that Tia had, a blessing for which he is intensely grateful. Paradoxically, however, that blessing has been folded into an even larger, more nebulous worry. Instead of one daughter trying to make her way through uncharted waters, he now has two, both of whom are still subject to the excitability and recklessness of youth.
Still, he has to admit it is difficult not to become infected with their enthusiasm, despite the fact that he knows at least one person in the house needs to be worried about the potential dangers involved. She had been excited though, running down stairs a few weeks ago, her sister no less excited despite the more sedate pace at which she followed, gushing about how she had finally been able to move something. He’d worried for a moment that if her grin grew any larger the top of her head was liable to fall right off. The memory lifts his spirits, and he smiles absently as he makes his way into the kitchen.
Reaching the fridge, he swings the door open, idling before the shelves as he searches for something to drink. They did have each other at least. Despite the way it often times makes him feel useless, he is grateful for that. Deciding on iced tea, he removes the pitcher, nudging the fridge door closed with his hip before pouring the last of its contents into a glass on the counter.
Taking a sip, his gaze wanders to the window, and he idly watches the trees outside dancing and jumping in the gusting wind, the sight at odds with the sound of the shower running in the upstairs bathroom. Tia should be home pretty soon. He’d told her to pack it in if the wind began to get bad. She’d been spending a lot of time this summer searching in and around the canyon in which he’d found them both, looking for some sign or clue as to where they came from. He’d agreed when she’d first asked if it was alright, although he’d cautioned her, gently, that it was unlikely there was anything left to find after eleven years, if there had ever been anything to find at all.
He’d searched around the place more than a few times himself, never coming across anything more noteworthy than trees, pine needles and brush. She’d insisted however, and though it left him a little discomforted, he’d figured it was harmless enough. It was natural after all, wanting to know where you came from and why. Hell, she might even find something he’d missed. He couldn’t get a birds-eye view of the area the way she could. He just hoped that she wouldn’t be too disappointed when nothing came of it.
Above him the muted rush and gurgle of water flowing through the pipes suddenly cuts off. Luna had been in the shower a lot longer than usual, not that that’s really surprising. Now that she was able to use her magic, she had to learn how to do things all over again, even simple things, such as bathing and grooming herself. She was making good progress too, both in figuring things out on her own and listening, if sometimes grudgingly, to the advice of her father and older sister. She could be a tad bit impulsive though, charging ahead without thinking things through first. He knows part of that is just her age, but still, it wouldn’t kill her to give a little more thought before acting. Maybe he should have a talk with her.
A clattering from the front porch draws his attention and he turns as the door opens, admitting Celestia. She walks into the living room, swinging the door closed again with a small flare from her horn and giving her wings a flutter. The sight of them using their gifts still catches him off guard at odd times, bringing up a complicated welter of emotions he’d assumed would have passed by now. Startlement, amazement. Worry.
Seeing him, she trots into the kitchen, smiling as she crosses the threshold. The delicate pink of her mane is disheveled and windblown, sticking up in small tangles and snarls. Caught up behind her ear is a crumbling, triangular leaf, most likely from one of the birch trees in the canyon, and he plucks it out as she comes near. “Hi sweetheart.”
“Hi Dad.” She smiles gratefully at the leaf in his hand. “Thanks. Is there any tea left?” She asks, eyeing the glass in his hand.
“Nope, afraid not.” He finishes the last sip, stepping over and placing the glass in the sink. “If you want more you’ll have to make another pitcher.”
“OK.” She chirps brightly. Humming faintly under her breath, she lifts the pitcher from the sink and begins rinsing it out, horn glowing softly. It’s amusing to Ryan how the two of them leap at any chance to use their magic. Even something as mundane as making tea is fun for them. After so long of being dependant on him for even the simplest of tasks, being able to do for themselves is still exciting. The new hasn’t worn off of it yet.
Watching bemusedly as she bustles around the kitchen, Ryan leans back against the counter. “So, how did it go?”
Her smile falters a little as she refills the pitcher and pulls a box of tea bags from the cupboard. “I didn’t find anything this time, either.” Placing the pitcher on the window sill, where it can steep in the sunlight streaming through the glass, she turns towards him, disappointment faintly coloring her expression. “Just a lot of trees and bushes and rocks.”
Reaching over he rubs her neck. “It’s OK, dear. We knew from the start that there might not be anything to find.”
“Yeah, I know.” She trails off, glancing down before looking back up hopefully, returning her eyes to his. “I still want to keep looking, though.”
“That’s fine honey, just be mindful of the weather. It’s not summer any more, and it looks like we’re going to get an early winter this year. I don’t want you flying around when it gets bad.”
“I know dad. I’ll be safe, I promise.”
“Alright then. Now, what do…” Ryan cuts off as a sound catches his ear. It takes him a moment to place it, but it sounds for all the world like someone is slowly pouring a cup of water onto a tile floor. He tilts his head, a perplexed expression crossing his face as he tries to figure out what exactly he’s hearing. Absently he notices Celestia’s ears swiveling a little as she tries to home in on the noise as well.
It seems like it’s coming from above the kitchen, almost as if it’s right above his head. The only rooms on this end of the house are the girl’s bedrooms, the converted reading room, and…
“I think that’s coming from the bathroom.” Tia says, her own head tilted to the side. Suddenly the noise cuts off, only to be replaces a second later by a loud splashing sound , as if instead of a cup of water, someone had decided to upend an entire bucket all at once. A large bucket.
Comprehension dawns on Ryan’s face, and he spins on his heel, stalking out of the kitchen and across the living room towards the stairs, his face a curious blend that is equal parts confusion, concern, and resignation. Luna would still be in the bathroom, having just finished her shower. She’s also been trying out her magic at every opportunity. If she broke a fitting or a pipe… Topping the stairway, he makes a beeline down the hall, slowing as he sees a dark patch radiating out ominously from the closed bathroom door. Behind him he can hear Tia making her way to the second floor. The liquid sounds have ceased and…no, no they haven’t. He can hear a faint splashing, and an odd squelching noise behind the dark wood of the door. Frowning, he twists the knob and pushes the door open.
The door swings inward, it’s movements slowed a little by the water covering the floor, sending out small ripples that expand in a half arc across the tile to rebound against the cabinet, and the hooves of his youngest daughter. Luna looks up at him, teal eyes wide. Her coat is dry, the fur poofing out a little along her face and around her wings, which are tight against her back. Her mane and tail are a tangled mess, bits of hair sticking up here and there. A sodden towel hangs from her mouth, swinging back and forth gently, dripping copiously into what must be almost an eighth of an inch of water that covers the floor. She stares at her father for a moment, frozen. Ryan, for his part, is equally frozen, eyes picking over the bathroom in an attempt to understand what he’s seeing.
Ryan takes a breath, preparing to ask her what in the hell is going on, and at the same moment she opens her mouth to speak, the towel falling heavily to splash in the water at her feet, little droplets springing up from the impact and splattering across the mirror. Laughter erupts suddenly from behind him, startling them both, and he looks back to see Celestia standing behind him in the hallway, eyes half closed and mouth hanging open as great bellowing peals of mirth escape her.
Raising an eyebrow, he looks back into the mess that used to be a clean bathroom. “Luna, what in the world…”
“I was trying to get dry…” she says quickly in a small voice, trailing off as she meets his eyes.
The pieces fall together in Ryan’s mind, and he begins laughing as well. Behind him, Tia has sat down, head lowered and sides shaking as she tries to contain herself, the sound beginning to break up into hitching giggles. Ryan puts a hand to his head, trying to fight down his own amusement. In front of him Luna’s expression has begun to change from wide eyed panic to sullen resentment.
Tia stands up and walks to the doorway, still chuckling. “Let me guess, you got out of the shower, and decided to try pushing the water off of you instead of using a towel.”
“Yeah.” Luna responds a little crossly, before looking down at her sodden hooves in embarrassment. “It didn’t work, though.”
Her giggles finally trailing off, Tia smiles amusedly at her sister. “I tried the same thing, you know.” Luna looks back up, frowning.
“Then how…”
“I tried it in the tub, dear sister.” She answers with a grin. Breaking out into laughter again, Tia turns and walks past
Ryan, her snickers trailing her down the hallway.
Watching her sister leave with a dangerous expression, she turns back to her father with an abashed look. Luna starts to open her mouth, stopping and frowning at the look on her father’s face. Ryan’s eyes sparkle with suppressed ammusment, and he’s fighting a losing battle to keep a stern, dad-like composure.
Clearing his throat a few times, he finally masters himself and looks down at her, his eyes still twinkling. “Luna, is what your sister said true?”
Meeting his gaze for a moment, Luna drops her head, her cheeks heating. “…yeah.”
“You tried to use your…magic,” he still stumbles over that word every now and again. “ Your magic to dry off, instead of a towel?”
“I…yeah.”
Taking a deep breath, he lets it out in a sigh. “And did it work out the way you thought it would?”
“…no.”
Sighing again, the laughter trying to break free finally coming under control, Ryan takes another look around the wet mess that is now the upstairs bathroom. Good lord, there really is water everywhere, even dripping from the top of the shower curtain, both inside and out. How had she managed that? “And did you learn something today?”
Looking back up again, her face begins to grow hopeful. Dad’s not mad? “Yeah, I learned that if I want to try that again, I should do it in the tub.” She responds, tone growing brighter.
Her quick answer brings a smile to his face, and Ryan steps through the water, stopping next to her and reaching down to lay a hand along her cheek. Her coat is still frizzy, sticking out around his palm like blades of grass. He studies her for a moment, taking in her expression, and then decides to change what he’s about to say. “OK, so long as you learned something from this. Now, you need to clean it up.” He smiles gently at her. They can have a discussion about her impulsiveness later.
“I was trying to clean it up.” She replies, looking up at him earnestly. “I tried using magic at first, but that just pushed the water around, so then I grabbed the towel…” She trails off, noticing the grin that is slowly growing on her father’s face.
“What?”
“Well, it just so happens that your old dad knows about an ancient, magical artifact that can help you out.”
She looks up at him hesitantly, confused. She doesn’t like the way he’s smiling at her. “…what artifact?”
Grumbling, Luna lifts the mop from the floor, trying to wring it out in the bucket sitting by the door. Dad thinks he’s so funny sometimes. Twisting the mop head in the stupid little inverted cone on top of the bucket, she swings it back around and plops it on the floor, causing sudsy water to splash into the air, some of which splatters against her coat. Growling in frustration, her horn flaring brighter for a moment in response to her agitation, she swirls the mop around, chasing water across the floor.
****************
“But red meat isn’t healthy for you.” Tia reiterates, her eyes imploring as she stands in the kitchen doorway.
“Yeah, it can cause high cholesterol and stuff. They have all these studies.” Luna pipes up from next to her sister, a small stack of computer printouts hovering in front of her.
Sighing, Ryan presses the plastic lid onto the Tupperware container on the counter in front of him. Picking it up, he shakes it gently, making sure that the dark marinade inside covers the steak evenly. He’d had a vague bad feeling when he started teaching the girls how to use the computer, and the internet. He’d brushed it off at the time, but now he sort of wishes he had paid it more heed. “Girls, I know what the studies say. You’ve shown them to me a number of times.”
Tia settles on her haunches, her expression growing more determined. “So then you know that…”
“I also know,” Ryan speaks over her, cutting her off as he places the Tupperware back on the counter and turns to face his daughters, “that I’ve pretty much become a vegetarian over the last ten or so years, which means that the closest thing to red meat I usually get is fish. Which is fine.”
“If it’s fine, then why…” Luna begins, hoisting the studies she’s printed out a little higher to emphasis the point she’s about to make.
Ryan cuts her off as well, holding up a hand. “I also know that a little red meat now and again is not going to hurt me.” He sighs again, fixing both of them with his eyes. “Sweetheart, it’s my birthday tomorrow, and for my birthday I’d like to enjoy a nice, juicy steak.”
Huffing irritably, Luna settles next to her sister, looking at the papers still floating in front of her before setting them on the floor. Glancing at Celestia she shares a look colored by frustration, with just a hint of disgust. The concept of eating another animal usually brings that sort of response from them.
Taking in their expressions, he leans back against the counter, arms folded. “It’s not like I’m making you two eat any. You don’t even have to watch me eat it.” He’s a little surprised that he’s actually slightly uncomfortable with the thought of them watching him eat meat. “But it’s my birthday, it only happens once a year, and if I want to have a steak, I’m going to have a steak. And that’s my final word on it.”
The two share another look, and then nod to their father resignedly. Looking up with a discontented expression, Tia tries one more gambit. “But we had a really special dinner we were going to make for you.”
“You can still make it, and I’ll still enjoy it. I’ll just have a steak with it, as well.”
Sighing in defeat, Luna stands up, absently grabbing her carefully prepared stack of health studies. She can tell when dad isn’t going to budge on a thing. “Fine. How do you cook a… steak, anyway?” She eyes the plastic container with obvious reluctance.
The thought of his girls actually cooking the meat causes an odd sort of discomfort in Ryan, a strange sort of squeamishness in his stomach. “Uh…I’ll cook it, sweetheart. You two can do the rest of the meal.”
Looking up in relief, she nods her head and turns to leave. Tia gives him one last, long suffering look, before standing up and following her sister out into the living room. Through the doorway he can hear them speaking quietly to each other.
They’re probably discussing how stubborn he is.
Shaking his head he turns and collects his steak, which should marinate nicely overnight, placing it on a shelf in the refrigerator. As he closes the door, he shakes his head again. It’d been this way ever since they learned how to use the computer, something they had picked up with a surprising quickness. Every week they had a new study or piece of news, mostly about health. His health. Coffee was bad for you. So were egg yolks. Trans fats were the devil. Red meat causes heart attacks. In a way it’s touching that they’re concerned for his health. A small way. Glancing at the closed door of the fridge he fights off a flash of frustrated guilt. A very small way.
It’s hard to get really upset with them about it, though. How do you get upset with people who only want you to live longer? It was also something to be expected, he supposes. Who ever heard of a teenager who didn’t think she knew more than her elders? And as much as he hates to admit it, some of what they bring up is valid.
However valid though, one thing he’s discovered about getting older is that it’s increasingly difficult to change your ways. Letting out a breath, he walks into the living room, finding it vacant. From the open doorway to the study he can hear Celestia and Luna talking quietly, their voices overlaying the small click of keys on a keyboard.
That they can type at all with no hands still amazes Ryan. He’s not entirely certain how it’s accomplished, and so far only Tia can manage it with any fluidity, but manage they do. They’ve been spending an increasing amount of time utilizing the thing, which makes sense when Ryan thinks about it. It’s a window into the wider world for them. Absently he wonders if he ought to get them a pair of laptops for Christmas.
He’d worried initially about some of the content that they might run into on the internet, but they were good kids. They knew what was acceptable and what to avoid. A couple of web nanny programs also helped to ease his mind. He just hoped that they would be done soon. He’s got some things he needs to check on in a bit. Settling onto the couch, he flips on the television and kicks his feet up.
The meal turned out good, all things considered. They had fresh caesar salad, baked potatoes, crispy garlic bread. He’d eaten his steak quickly, almost furtively, but not even the disapproving looks he’d garnered from them had done much to keep him from enjoying it. It really had marinated nicely overnight. Even the cake had been good, if a little lumpy on the one side. For a couple of girls who still weren’t very experienced in the subtle art of the kitchen, they put on a pretty good spread. He likes to think it’s mostly from his teachings.
Humming under his breath as he cleans up the kitchen, he can’t keep from smiling a little. Their hearts were in the right place, and even though they’d left the mess for him, the evening had been an enjoyable one. He has to admit, he’s got a pretty good set of kids.
Finishing with the salad bowl and setting it on the little wooden rack on the side of the sink, he dries his hands, folding up the embroidered blue washcloth and tossing it on the counter. The girls were already in bed, and glancing at the little clock on the stove he decides to turn in himself. He still has a touch of that full-stomach lethargy you get from overeating, what Callie used to call the sleepy-puppy syndrome, and bed sounds pretty good right about now. Still humming, he flips off the kitchen lights and makes his way towards the stairs.
Ryan opens his eyes. Strong sunlight cascades warmly over him, and he sits up in confusion. Soft fragrant grass cushions him, spreading out in a verdant swatch that runs headlong into a vertical rock face crossing from left to right in front of him. What was going on? Staring uncomprehendingly for a moment, he looks to his right, following the dark grey, mica flecked stone with his eyes. He was outside? How had he gotten outside? Across from him the little flecks of mica kick back muted pinpricks of reflected sunlight, sparkling slightly. When had he gotten outside? Farther up from him, the rock face meanders inwards on a slant, eventually meeting up with a similar rock face that sweeps behind him. The two faces come together about twenty yards to his right, forming a point, and he can see a few pale, slender trunks at its apex.
Standing, he turns in a slow circle, eyes dancing over the grass and the small shrubs that run between the two sides of the canyon, flowing away him in a rough sort of wedge shape formed from the rock faces, which he notices are spotted irregularly with springy looking mosses of green and yellow. Spinning around again, he focuses on the handful of birch trees standing proudly at the termination of the sides, and realization drops over him, heightening his confusion. It’s the canyon. His canyon. He knows that it is, feels it with an odd sort of clarity, the distinct shape of it only verifying the strange certainty. What’s happened to it though? Where’s all the scrub brush? Where’s the dirt and the sage?
The sky is cloudless, a deep cerulean blue that arches overhead, the sun a bright orb burning at its center. The air is crisp but comfortable, carrying on it the scents of grass and trees, damp soil and the green smell of growing things. He feels a strange calm here, a deep peacefulness, almost as if this place were sacred. What was going on? Blinking in the bright sunlight, he glances behind him again, debating before giving a small shrug and walking forward, towards the trees. The blades of grass feel cool and welcome beneath his feet, and he pauses, looking down at himself. He’s still wearing his bed clothes, his feet bare, little tufts of grass poking up between his toes. Is he dreaming?
Giving his head a shake, he continues forward. If this is a dream, it is by far the most vivid one he’s ever experienced. It feels so real. Each step has weight, each foot fall brings with it the sensation of cool, soft grass, and beneath that, the slightly uneven texture of damp soil, small stones and other assorted aggregate poking at the soles of his feet. A slight breeze wafts across him, and he can feel it tugging unevenly at his hair, playing slightly with his flannel sleep pants, pulling a little at the collar of his pajama top.
He nears the small grouping of birch trunks and stops, looking them over. There used to be so many here, much more than the widely spaced half dozen or so currently before him. The slender upright trunks give off a sense of age, of the passage of time, and a thought begins to well up in the back of his mind, unbidden. Glancing over his shoulder he studies the carpet of green running back towards the mouth of the canyon.
How much time would have to pass for the changes he’s seeing to take place? How long for the soil to change, for the old flora to be pushed out? Not decades surely. Centuries, at the least. How many centuries would it take for this place to change from the rough high desert beauty it was, to the quiet emerald elegance it is now? The thought brings with it conflicting feelings of both fear and awe.
Shivering in a way that has nothing to do with the pleasant temperature of the air, he looks back to the trees, and what he sees there stops him cold, his eyes going wide and his mouth dropping open in shock as the sight in front of him temporarily severs the connection between brain and motor function.
A young woman is standing in between the alabaster trunks, clad in blue jeans and a white blouse, her arms crossed beneath her breasts, her face wreathed in a beautiful smile. Vibrant copper hair peeks out from beneath a red paisley kerchief, her green eyes sparkling with hidden amusement.
It’s Callie.
Her smile widens into a grin as she takes in his shell shocked expression. “Hello, love.”
Speechless, Ryan stands there, staring, body feeling numb and a little disjointed, as if he’s just been walloped by a sledge hammer made out of feather pillows. He squeezes his eyes closed and opens them again, but she remains before him, smiling, one eyebrow starting to climb in a way that suggests she’s trying very hard not to laugh. He takes a deep breath, noticing for the first time that his mouth is still hanging open and snaps it closed, only to open it again.
“I…ju…huh?”
His broken utterance proves too much for her, and she breaks out into laughter, eyes squeezed shut, hands clutching her thighs as she doubles over. After a long moment she finally regains mastery over herself and straightens up, the occasional chuckle still emerging as she wipes at one eye. “Oh dear…Oh Ryan, I’m sorry sweetheart. I really am, I didn’t mean to…it’s just…oh you should have seen your face!”
Still too shocked to grow properly indignant, Ryan tries to speak, before his emotions come crashing over him like a wave and he crosses the distance between them in a few steps, wrapping Callie up in his arms and pulling her close. “Callie, oh God, Callie. Callie…” He breaks off, mumbling into her hair as he squeezes her. She’s as real as the rest of it, the silken feel of her hair, her scent. It’s her.
She returns his embrace, and for long moments the two just stand, holding one another. Eventually, she pulls back a little, looking up into his face. Her earlier mirth is gone, her smile now one of genuine happiness. She reaches up with one hand, brushing away some of the tears that have been freely leaking from his eyes. “Hello, love.”
Ryan’s breath catches as he looks down into the smiling face of his wife for the first time in almost fifteen years. “Callie…what, what is this?” He takes a breath, his shock beginning to merge with his earlier confusion in an odd sort of combination that makes it difficult to think clearly. “How is this?”
She grins at the vagueness of his question, understanding his meaning despite the awkward wording. “This is really happening, Ryan. In a way, at least.”
He opens his mouth again, but she cuts him off, her expression growing serious. “We don’t have a lot of time, Ryan. And there are some things we need to discuss before this comes to an end.”
“I don’t understand.”
She smiles up at him again, releasing her embrace and taking a step back. “I know you don’t honey, but that’s OK. You don’t need to understand everything, not right now anyway.” Glancing around, she nods at a point behind his shoulder.
“Sit down with me.”
Settled Indian style on the grass, dappled in the shadows of the surrounding birch trees, Callie leans over, taking Ryan’s hands in hers, her face covered in irregular bands of dimness and brightness. Her expression is warm, but serious, the liquid jade pools of her eyes direct as they look into his. She’d always been able to switch seamlessly from joviality to seriousness in a way he’d always had trouble emulating. It was one of the first things about her that had impressed him when they’d started dating.
“This,” she releases one of his hands to gesture around them, “isn’t real. Not in the way you’re used to things being real. This place is a sort of…reflection, I guess.”
Glancing around in confusion, he turns back to her. “A reflection of what?”
“What might be, what could be. I don’t fully understand all of it myself, but that’s not important right now.”
“Then what…”
“Hush Ryan.” She leans forward, capturing his eyes. “Our time here is short, and there are things I have to tell you. Something is coming, something dark.”
Her words carry a weight to them, a depth, and he shivers in spite of himself. “What?”
“I can’t tell you what.” She holds up a forestalling hand at the look he gives her. “That’s simply the way it is, sweetie.” She holds his eyes a moment longer before giving him a placating smile. “What I can tell you is that they are very important, and that they’re going to play a very large role in what happens after.” He looks a question at her, and she nods in response. “The girls. Celestia and Luna.”
“You know about them?”
She smiles, leaning close to bop him lightly on the forehead with her palm. “Of course I do, dummy.” Settling back, she takes his hands again, a seriousness coming into her eyes, pinning him. “They must be kept safe, Ryan. Above all else, they must be kept safe.”
“Why? Callie, I don’t…”
“I’m sorry, Ryan. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, I really am, but it has to be this way.” She glances around them, before glancing up at the sun, like she’s judging its position. If she’s trying to figure the time, Ryan can’t see how. From what he can tell, the damned thing hasn’t moved an inch. Nodding to herself, she looks back to him, her expression all business. “I’m going to tell you some things. You won’t remember all of it after this, not consciously, but I’m going to tell you anyway. Important things, things that you need to know.”
He opens his mouth, but closes it again at the pleading look that comes across her face. “We don’t have a lot of time here, so I need you to just listen. Please. No questions, no interruptions, just listen to what I have to say. I need you to trust me, love.”
He studies her for a moment, then leans forward, pressing his lips gently to hers. Breaking the kiss, he settles back, tightening his hands on hers and nodding. “I’ll always trust you, dear heart.”
Smiling radiantly, she glances at the sun once more, seeming to gauge it, and then she begins.
****************
Steam rises fragrantly from the cup of coffee in Ryan’s left hand, and he raises it to his mouth to take a sip. The hot, rich flavor splashes across his tongue, traveling down his throat and warming him from the inside, the heat radiating from his stomach a stark contrast to the chill fall morning. Lifting his other hand he takes a long, slow drag from his cigarette, expelling it in a cloud that is equal parts smoke and condensation from his coffee warmed breath, the hazy plume quickly pulled apart by an errant but persistent breeze.
Winter is almost here, evidenced by the denuded branches of the trees before him and the quickly dropping temperature. It had rained a couple of days ago, and he can still pick out the faint scent of damp earth and the sweet smell of damp sage.
Inside he can just make out the muted sound of the kitchen T.V., tuned to some morning program or other. The girls were taking a turn at breakfast today, a notion that brings a sort of wincing smile to his face. They were getting better all the time, but for all of that he still knows that the majority of the cleanup will fall to him. He shrugs the thought off, feeling a strange sort of resigned happiness at the thought.
Taking another sip of deliciously warm coffee, he puts his cigarette out in the little dirt filled can on the railing and leans forward, arms resting on the weathered wooden slats, his eyes wandering over the front yard while his mind wanders over the dream he had three weeks ago. He didn’t remember much of it, mostly just blurry impressions. Callie’s face, the feel of her hair, sun dappled shadows, the smell of green things. It hadn’t faded in the intervening weeks, the way normal dreams do. It was indistinct, yet solid at the same time.
He hadn’t questioned it since then. He really couldn’t. It hadn’t been a dream, and he’s pretty certain it hadn’t been some sort of vision either. The more he turns it over in his head, the more he’s convinced that it was some strange juxtaposition of the two. Whatever it was doesn’t matter to him though, not really. All that matters is that it had been real. This isn’t something he just accepted, but rather something he knew, deep down inside, with no ambiguity and no uncertainty.
Somehow, through some means he’s not even sure if he wants to understand, he had been visited by his wife, had spoken with her. Had woken the next morning with the smell of her on his pajamas.
He couldn’t remember what had been said, but that wasn’t important. He’s pretty sure that he was told exactly what he needed to hear. It’s odd to him that his acceptance in what had happened feels stranger than the actual event itself. It was almost spiritual, his belief an act of faith. Not in any god or deity, but in her. In Callie.
He had awoken with a definite sense of purpose. Watch for trouble, keep the girls safe. Not too different from what he normally did, except that now he was sure that trouble would come. That certainty should have bothered him more, he knows, but it’s countered by a renewed determination in him, a sure confidence. Nothing, no person or thing or event, will hurt his girls. He won’t allow it. He’ll keep them safe, no matter the cost.
Taking another drink, this one deeper now that the beverage had cooled some, he straightens up and turns to go inside. Breakfast should be almost ready by now, maybe he can lend a hand.
Stats
Page generated in 0.046 seconds
Total duration
985 users online
368,875 hits today, 2,054,621 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Great... Another top ranking story I have to read. *sigh* time to get started...
After finished the first chapter
... moar
1713565
In any case, I appreciate the comparison, and I'm glad you seem to be enjoying it so far. 
I actually liked MLD. It brought definite feels at the end.
:1730921
Moar has been delivered, as of like, five minutes ago.
I'm glad you're enjoying it so far, and I hope you find the rest of it as enjoyable as you did the first chapter.
1730942
Thank you, and the drunk Barnie is a hysterical picture that completely ruins my childhood!
:)
I love this. I love, love, love this. I want to see where it goes.
Well now the plot thickens.
Excited for more.
So, how many more chapters to the apocolypse?
1731535
I second both this method of consuming fanfiction, and the sentiment of wanting more.
Pour, once again, you clever bugger, you got me wondering what's coming next
Omg awesome again
assets.diylol.com/hfs/3fd/6f6/286/resized/curious-cat-meme-generator-the-plot-thickens-55b1f4.jpg?1347379248.jpg
1732969
So, you're calling Celestia fat just because she likes to eat cake?
1733686
I would never! I thing she has a very nice figure.
i0.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/000/298/073/68e.png
1733686
Ba-dum-ts!
1732969 i see what you did there
1732969
)
You bet that cat that the plot just got hotter. (had to
But anyways jokes aside, do anyone remember Ryan having a dream where he and the girls are in his car and someone was shot? I do and I think that might make a return. (now watch, it wont be because I pointed it out.)
Well.Plot thickens!
"Trouble is coming..."
In my head is just me and the author doing this:
Author: "Is that your hopefulness for a nice happy ending to this story over there?"
Me: "Yeah..."
Author: "Im'ma kill it."
Me: "Don't you do it."
Author: "Im'ma do it!"
Me: "Don't you do it!"
Author: "Im'ma do it!"
Me: "Don't you do it!"
Author: "Im'ma do it!"
(This goes on till the next chapter is updated.)
1731076
I'm glad you're enjoying it, and thanks for the read
1731100
Indeed, now we get to actually go somewhere
I have to admit, however, that I'm not too sure how to feel about it. I sort of want to keep it where it's been forever, despite the fact that I know that's not how it works.
Glad you've enjoyed it so far!
1731148
Two. Or a million. Wait, what's an apocalypse?
1732601
That's actually the final disposition of every one of these comments. If you chew them enough, you gain their powers, sort of the same reason you eat a calculator really.
Thanks Cloud, I'm glad this chapter didn't make it as overtly obvious as I worried it would be.
Then again, I do know what's going to happen, so I guess that makes my view of the story a little biased.
1738259
What if, instead of kill, I just irreparably cripple it? Or maybe I won't
See how mysterious I can be? I'm a craft one, I am
Moar!
Now things are starting to turn a wee bit, makes me wonder what will happen next.
1739620
Great story, awesome read, but I have one little issue with it. The tense. The story reads like it was written for past tense, but you use the present tense form in every case. (well, minus flashbacks, but even then...)
This wouldn't be the first time I've read a story that had everything perfect except one issue. As such, I've trained myself to ignore such details on stories that are worth the effort. And this story of yours is most definitely worth the effort.
Anyway, can't wait to read more of it. Thanks!
1743002
I couldn't have said it better myself. I noticed the issue as well, but after reading the first two chapters, i 'tuned it out' so to speak.
I have a feeling i know how this ends... and while it will be gloriously told, it will probably cause at least one tear to fall. And that's completely okay, i nearly shed one with the truck, foreseeing several outcomes there before i read the whole scene. PourMeADrink, you've earned my fave, thumb, and tracking. I eagerly await more.
“I don’t understand.” She breathes up at him, sides moving rapidly, her tone flustered and almost pleading. “Why can’t I grab your hand?”
There’s nothing to be done about it after all, and in the meantime, he has other things to focus on, or worry about, depending on your outlook.
Tia gives him one last, longsuffering look, before standing up and following her sister out into the living room.
Here, have some free edits! I really like the vividness you use in your writing. I can see the scenes in the story as they unfold, and they all feel natural and unforced. Well done, good sir.
I'd just like to say that reading this story has resurrected my own resolve to write a fanfic.
Thank you so much for writing such a beautiful and heartwarming story, even if I know it's just building up all these happy feelings so it can shatter them to itty-bitty pieces at the end. You are an example to us all.
I lve love love it
What a great story. It has too many feels for me though. If I could thumb you up more than once I would. Awesome story, but not for me. I am rather curious however, if this is before Discord rule or after.
i0.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/000/421/617/880.gif
1738259
sounds more like the following is going to happen:
- nuclear war (or similar) wipes out humanity
- Celestia and Luna build Equestria on the remains.
- somewhen along the lines Ryan dies from something (and if it's just old age)
There seems to be a sentence broken in two in this chapter.
There's an enter between past and Ryan, other than that, this chapter is good and I'm finally glad we're going somewhere. I hate it when an author keeps lingering too much in one situation.
1840304 Yeah, I've noticed that as well. FimFiction seems to do strange things with the line spacing and the like when I post the chapters. It also refuses to let me use spaces between scenes (I usually use three spaces to break up different scenes), which is why I had to switch to a row of *****
My life would be immeasurably better if I FimFic could just straight up import word documents.
1803259
Part of the story is finding out (eventually) when and where and all of that. Sorry it's not for you, but thank you for giving it a try
1788949
I'm glad you're enjoying it so far.
Thanks
1770451
It's always refreshing to hear things like that, if still a little strange to me. I'm glad you've enjoyed it so far
Wow, thank you
1755041 Good catches, thanks
I'll get those fixed.
1743002
).
1749954
Yeah, I know the tensing is sort of screwy. Never arbitrarily decide to do something a certain way when you're drunk. I've thought about changing things to a more correct past perfect tense, but at this point I'm worried that it'll throw readers off if it suddenly changes. The next fic won't suffer from the same mistakes (I'm sure it'll suffer from a whole new set of mistakes
In any case, thanks for giving it a chance anyway, and I'm glad you guys are enjoying it
1892357
... well now I just have to find out whether it's before or after Discords reign.
This is one of those fics that is just raw, unadulterated good. You spend an incredible amount of time with the characters, which can either become boring (in the hands of a lesser author) or flesh out the personalities such as you have done. Ryan started out as a suicidal smoker, but that isn't who he is. It's just part of him—and it's so easy to make that mistake, to define a character by their most prevalent traits.
Now he thinks like a parent, feels like a parent, acts like a parent... but he's not just a parent either.
So, yeah, this story is one of the best I've read. Solid work here, author. I look forward to the conclusion.
[Sidenote: Maybe it's just me, but it seems like when chapter lengths get longer, the story quality gets better. I wonder why that is...]
1911893 Well I'm glad you're enjoying it so far, thank you
). Since I got over that, and actually started taking things a bit more seriously, the story has gotten (I hope) much better.
There is a direct correlation between chapter length and quality, and if I'm being honest, it's because I wasn't taking the writing of this story very seriously for the first few chapters - I hadn't really come to terms with the fact that my first serious foray into the world of writing was a tale about cartoon ponies (pony princesses, no less
Anyway, I'm shooting for some new chapter in (hopefully) a week or two. And thanks for the read
1911893 The direct connection between longer Chapters and higher quality is that you have more "space" to compensate possible unlucky decisions, as long as you use only a relatively, to the length of the chapter, limited number of Scenes.
1926802 A very high quality Story ^^ good work, 32€ Book Quality and that is more than the most Fantasy Books cost here... ^^ (normal 15€ up to 25€)
there's going to be a nuclear war with China isn't there? And Ponies will rise from the nuclear ashes.
I need to lay off reading these long fics. I get legitimately worried every time something bad happens to Celestia or Luna.
Aww shit, 2025. You know what that means? Black Ops 2 references! Well, if there were any...
I was imagining that Tia and Luna,s parents sent them away from home to protect them. Maybe even to a different time. So they will end up returning to equestria in the past and eventually live till the current age.
I have a feeling that Celestia and Luna are going to watch him die at one point
That's the first time I've ever heard the word juxtaposition. Congratulations to you for using vocabulary that I had yet heard of.
1892416
The first few chapters were pretty good as well.