And We Couldn't be Happier to Have Them
Rachel walked down the sidewalk as one who had just had a great weight lifted off her shoulders. She stood up a little straighter, her gait was purposeful and confident. Her breathing was easier and lighter. The sun seemed a little brighter and the city air didn’t smell quite so bad. For the first time in weeks, Rachel couldn’t feel any of the anger or the negativity that had been plaguing her since the door to her old apartment had been slammed in her face.
She had spent nearly three hours with that old stallion, with her head on his wither and his wing wrapped around her in an almost protective manner. While it had been mildly embarrassing breaking down in front of a complete stranger, in public no less, it had felt good. She needed a good cry; just like she needed to hear what she had heard today.
Four Score hadn’t let go of her hand for a second, and not only did he have a handkerchief at the ready when her quiet sobs had turned to sniffles, he also had a joke that turned her sniffles into laughter. After she had settled down, he had more advice and more kind, patient words, all of which she took to heart. The two of them had talked so long, in fact, that eventually she had the pleasure of meeting the old stallion’s herd and two of his granddaughters. They had been lovely, wonderful company, and if she didn't have other business to take care of today she would have happily spent the whole afternoon with them.
Chelsea had been right; these creatures, these ponies, were different. They had this kindness about them, this absolute, overpowering friendliness that could make anyone smile. And it just wasn’t that. The way that they spoke to her, what they talked about, how those big, expressive eyes of theirs would stare at her as they talked and as they listened, how they laughed, how they smiled. None of these ponies had a side agenda, none of them were going to badmouth her when her back was turned.
Sure, they might have been a little nosey all things considered, and extremely talkative, and they seemed to have absolutely no sense of personal space, and they had this weird thing where they broke out into song for seemingly no reason (that had been a heck of a thing to see), but they were good people. Good people with flaws and hopes and dreams and worries just like everyone else. They weren’t monsters that had come to Earth for some nefarious purpose. They weren’t trying to take over the human population or rule the world. They were, just like Chelsea had said, a bunch of cute little weirdos that wanted to be her friend.
She wasn't quite there yet—she could feel a part of herself shying away from the ponies—but she was infinitely better than she had been before. She was no longer the woman that had tried to throw out her boyfriend’s baseball cards because she didn’t like them. She was different now; her once closed eyes had been opened. It wasn't going to be easy, and she was going to have to take it one step at a time, but she had taken her first step in the right direction.
She was going to become a better person. She was going to turn herself into a woman that could stand to look herself in the mirror.
A small smile wormed its way onto Rachel’s face as she stuffed her hands into her pockets. Four Score had insisted that she come visit him and “his girls” in Dodge Junction whenever the whole business with the U.N. and everything after it was all settled, and she had been more than happy to accept his offer. With the way that he and his grandkids had looked at her while they asked, how couldn't she agree?
But that was far off. She still had a lot to do. Phone calls needed to be made, apologies needed to be said. She needed to go and see James. She needed to talk to him and apologize.
A sliver of fear worked its way into the young woman’s belly at the thought of facing her old boyfriend and his new… marefriend. What if James didn’t care what she had to say to him? What if he just flat out refused to see her? What if Celestia did that thing to her nose again? What if she said something that made James hate her?
These fears, these doubts, began to scream in Rachel’s head, vying her attention. She began to slow down, that smile of hers turning into a small, worried frown.
What if all of this sudden desire for change was just the result of the emotional rollercoaster that she had been on today? What if, when she woke up tomorrow, she went back to being the same controlling, angry… thing that she had been for so long? Did something like that happen to people? Could something like that happen to her? Did she deserve this second chance? Did she deserve forgiveness?
Slowing to a crawl, Rachel took a few more steps before finally stopping. Her gaze fell to the pavement at her feet and her hands balled into fists.
CLANG!
She jumped in surprise and her head snapped up and over into an alleyway. Though it was still relatively early in the evening and the sun was still shining brightly outside, not a ray of sunlight could be seen in that space in between buildings. It was dark, it was smelly, it gave off this aura of wrongness that set the body on edge. Rachel could see that garbage bags littered the entire alley and that there were puddles of some foul-smelling, greyish liquid scattered throughout it.
It was a simple alleyway; a home of mice and alley cats and other disgusting, unsanitary things. Every single one in the city looked the same, no matter which part of the city you were in, and she had seen hundreds. She also had enough common sense to stay out of one if she could help it, even in the middle of the day. And she would have too; she would have ignored the sound with a shake of her head and continue forward down the street. It was the smart thing to do; it was the correct thing to do. What stopped her from turning heel and walking away, however, was a figure standing in that alleyway.
“Aw, is the little freak lost?”
“P-Please, I-I just—”
“Look at ‘em! Aw, you gonna cry, horsie?”
A man was standing over something that she couldn't quite make out. Now, this man wasn't the normal, temperate kind that one would see walking the city. This man wasn’t a man that had a nine-to-five job, a little apartment, a girlfriend, and some friends that he went out with on the weekends. No, this man had a gruff, maleficent look about him. His clothes were dirty and ill-fitted, and even from here Rachel could see that he had holes in both his shirts and pants. His hair was long and mangy and unkempt, and whenever he happened to grin, she could see broken, yellowed teeth.
This was not good man. This was not a man that you walked up to and had a conversation with. A man like this was meant to be avoided. He was a criminal, a crook, a bad man.
The man shifted around, almost stumbled really, giving Rachel a good look at what he was standing over. She gasped at what she saw. A pony—he was looming over a pony. An earth pony, with bright green eyes and a little vest and a cowboy hat.
She could see that the poor thing was shaking like a leaf, its back against one of the dirty alley walls and its front legs tucked against its chest. Every few seconds it would look at the man in front of it, then at the alley’s exits. Sometimes it would make to dart past the man, only for the crook to squat down and extend a hand with a chuckle. It was scared, she instantly realized. It was scared and it wanted to get away, but it couldn't.
“God, are you an ugly thing,” The man said, scratching his chin with a dirty hand. “Look at those eyes, and that kooky-looking hair…”
The pony sunk into itself. “P-Please, mister, a-all I want to—”
“I bet I could take you to the South side and sell you to somebody,” the man casually uttered, leaning forward and making to grab the pony. “People alway want them exotic pets. And if that don’t work, I can just take you to a slaughterhouse… Whatcha say, horsie? How’d ya like to be turned into a burger?”
The pony, with wide eyes, squirmed away from the man as best as it could. Its mouth opened slightly, and the sound that the pony made echoed off the walls and into Rachel’s ears. A whimper. A fearful whimper.
Common sense still told her to walk away. She couldn't do anything to help the little guy. She needed to go and get help. That was the smart thing to do. The correct thing. But all of that common sense was silenced when she heard that fearful mewl.
Pulling her hands out of her pockets, Rachel took a step toward the alley, then another, then another, then another. With each step, her pace began to quicken. Her brow furrowed and her fists once again clutched as the man laughed again. As she drew nearer, she noticed his back was hunched oddly. Vulture—she was instantly reminded of. A filthy, dirty, cruel scavenger.
Her footsteps became more and more aggressive, so that she was more stomping than walking across that dirty, decaying cobblestone. The sound echoed through the alleyway as she drew closer and closer. The man perked up at the sound. He turned to look at her just as she drew near enough to smell him.
“Oh? What do we have here?” he cooed, smiling an ugly, twisted smile as Rachel stopped a few feet away from him. “You lost sweetheart?”
Rachel drew herself up to her full height, as unimpressive as it was. “Leave that pony alone,” she commanded, puffing her chest out.
The man looked at her a moment, his brow furrowing, before he began to laugh. “Leave that pony alone? Now why would I do something like that?” he asked, taking a step toward her.
A bolt of panic raced up the young woman’s spine as the crook stood to his full height. Though his body looked unnaturally skinny through the holes of his shirt, he was still bigger than her. A lot bigger.
“Me and the little guy were just talking,” the man continued, eyeing her evilly. “Is there anything wrong with that?”
“L-Leave him alone,” Rachel repeated, though her voice was far meeker.
The man, sensing weakness, lunged forward, his arms spread out wide. “Why don’t you make me, bit—”
Yelping, Rachel did the first thing that came to mind. Lifting a hand up, she extended a finger and pressed it against the lunging man’s nose.
“—ch—erk!”
A ripple ran through the man’s body as Rachel then applied pressure, starting from the top of his head down to the bottom of his toes. He went ramrod stiff, his hazy, milky eyes widening comically and his mouth gaping open.
The young woman’s terror was replaced with confusion. She looked at her extended hand, then at the still as a statue man. For a few seconds she did nothing but stare, trying to process what was happening and failing spectacularly.
The man, meanwhile, began to turn an interesting shade of red, his mouth beginning to foam. His fingers jerked open and closed, as if they had minds of their own. Eyes widening so much so that they seemed to nearly pop out of his head, the man managed to make a gurgling sound out of the corners of his mouth.
Rachel jumped at the noise, her gaze focusing on the man. Staring at that dirty, foul helpless creature in front of her for several very long, very tense moments, she once again found her courage
“Get out of here,” she growled, not at all as fearful as she had been just a few moments prior. She withdrew the pressure on her captive’s nose, which caused him to fall to the ground in a heap, panting and flushed and confused and in more than a bit of pain. “Get out of here before you really piss me off.”
The crook needed no further prompting. Terrified, he scrambled to his feet without a word and took off down the alley as fast as his feet would take them, knocking over trash cans and tripping over his own two feet. Rachel, crossing her arms, watched the man make his escape with a stern expression. It was only when he turned the corner and left her sight did she deflate.
She stumbled forward, desperately grabbing the edge of a garbage can to keep herself from falling. She found herself shaking as the ramifications of what she had just done ran through her head.
What the hell was wrong with her? This wasn’t some comic book or TV show! That guy could have hurt her! He could have kidnapped her! He could have done a hundred terrible, awful things to her if that nose thing hadn't worked!
Why hadn’t she just walked away? Why didn’t she go and get someone so that they could help? Why didn—
A quiet sniffle brought her out of her panic-induced state. She looked over to see that the stallion, his vest, which had every button broken on it, hanging awkwardly on his body, was staring at her with tear-filled eyes. The stallion was dirty, she saw. His tannish, golden coat was muddy and dirty, so much so that she had difficulty seeing anything other than black or brown. His hat looked like it had been torn and he had a bruise on his muzzle. He was also sitting in a puddle of liquid whose origins she very much did not care to guess at, his withers sagged and his tail tucked between his legs.
Seeing this dirty, shaking, sad, and scared little pony, Rachel forgot her panic attack for a few moments, pushing herself away from the garbage can and making her way toward him.
“Hey, are you alright?” she asked, moving slow as to not frighten him any further. “He didn’t hurt you, did—”
In the blink of an eye the stallion closed the distance between them, leaping into the air and wrapping his hooves around her. Rachel grunted in surprise, very nearly losing her balance as the surprisingly heavy stallion buried his face into the nape of her neck, his hat falling off of his head and onto the ground below.
“H-Hey!” she cried, suddenly fearful. “What are you—”
A sob escaped the pony’s throat, silencing her protest. “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”
Another sob escaped the hysterical stallion’s throat as he held her all the tighter, dirtying her clothes and shaking like a leaf. Feeling awkward, her nose scrunching up at his smell, Rachel patted the pony’s back as he began to cry. “It’s, um, it’s alright,” she said. “It’s alright…”
She could feel the stallion’s heart pounding in his chest as he shook and cried. He was still scared; even though the danger had passed, he was still scared. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she held the dirty, smelly, shaken little pony just a bit tighter, muttering comfortingly into his ear.
“Hey, it’s alright. I’m here. No one’s going to hurt you. Everything’s going to be alright. Everything’s going to be alright…”
His fur, though dirty and soaked, still felt silky soft against her fingers as she ran her hands up and down his back. She found herself leaning into him just a little more. He smelled like apples under all that garbage, she noticed, as his shaking slowly began to stop. Just like with Four Score, the stallion felt surprisingly warm, and his weight, though significant, wasn’t so much that she couldn’t handle him. In fact, it felt rather nice to have that weight pressed up against her like it was.
Sighing, Rachel wrapped her arms around the pony’s barrel and hugged him nice and tight. The stallion whimpered, nosing her neck. His mane tickled her nose as he did this, filling her nose with that smell of apples. If she had the luxury, she might have held the hug for as long as she could, but they were still in the alley, and possibly still in danger if that man decided to come back with friends.
“Come on, hon,” she said gently, smiling to herself even as the stallion continued to nuzzle her neck like a scared dog. “Let’s get out of this nasty alley and out onto the street.”
It took some doing, the stallion hadn’t wanted to let go of her, but eventually Rachel managed to drag the pony out of the alley and out onto the street. The two of them got some looks, dirty and ragged as they were, but she ignored them for the most part, once again turning her attention to the stallion. Seeing that his nose was running and his cheeks were soaked with tears, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and presented it to him.
“T-Thank you,” the stallion muttered, with a sniffle, grabbing it and beginning to clean up his face as best as he could.
Kneeling down, she placed a hand on his wither. “Are you alright?” she asked
The stallion sniffled before loudly blowing his nose. “I lost my f-friends somewhere in the c-city,” he said. “That c-colt came over and h-he said that h-he knew w-where they were…”
He looked up at her with big, sad eyes. “H-He led me into t-that alley, and i-if you hadn’t c-come when you d-did he would of… he m-might of…”
“Shush, shush, shush,” Rachel said, pulling him into a hug. “I kicked that jerk to the curb. You’re never going to see him again.”
The pony looked up at her, fear and innocence in those pretty green eyes of his. “Y-You promise?”
Rachel smiled. “I promise. Now how about we get you outta here and cleaned up? Then we can go and look for your friend—”
The pony darted forward once again, but this time, instead of another hug, like she was expecting, she was given a kiss on the cheek. It wasn’t much of a kiss really, and it was done so fast that if she hadn’t been paying attention she wouldn’t have even noticed, but even still she could feel the emotion behind it. The happiness, the relief, the gratitude, even some innocence—like she was back in the third grade and had just gotten a kiss from a boy behind the bleachers. She could feel it all from that quick little kiss. It ran through her body like a lightning bolt, filling her with warmth and making her quietly aw.
“M-My names, Braeburn,” the pony mumbled, tilting his hat downward in a futile attempt to hide the blush
that was spreading across his cheeks.
Rachel’s smile widened just a hair as she looked down at this adorable, silly little pony. She resisted the sudden yet powerful urge to take off his hat and ruffle his mane, instead reaching down and grabbing his hoof. Braeburn, his face as red as an apple, looked up at her and smiled shyly. Her heart fluttered at the sight, and her smile grew so big that he half expected it to fall from her face.
“Hello, Braeburn,” she said. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
<0*88*0>
It was quiet in the room. The TV was turned off, as was the radio and the computer. The only sounds that could be heard was the ticking from the clock hanging on the walls, breathing, and the occasional happy sight.
It was James’s day off once again, and a much needed one at that. In the last few weeks, the young man had seen a flurry of activity and change. He had met dozens of ponies, talked to politician and news reporter alike. He had traveled to New York City to speak on the behalf of the ponies at a U.N. assembly. He had even made the trip to Equestria for a short period of time at the behest of his girlfriend. All of it was a lot to take in, especially for a mailman that didn’t consider himself anything special, but he had somehow gotten through it.
A sigh escaped his lips as he nuzzled himself against Celestia’s chest. He and the big alicorn were lying on the futon, doing nothing but holding each other and being the kind of lazy that would make Huckleberry Finn proud.
The princess had her hooves wrapped around him and was nuzzling the top of his head. James was amusing himself by rubbing his thumb against her hoof as he listened to the beating of her heart. Though the two of them were so different, their bodies seemed made to hold each other like this. It felt natural, comfortable, enjoyable.
Letting his hand wander up Celestia’s leg, he mussed up her fur to the knee for no better reason because he enjoyed the feeling of her fur on his fingertips. Celestia unfurled a wing from her back and laid it over him, humming a quiet tune as she did so. A smile broke across James’s face as he closed his eyes.
It had been a long time since he was able to relax like this—to let go. It had also been the first time in a long time since he was able to really smile on this couch with someone that he really cared for. He might have only met this someone a few weeks ago, but in those few weeks that he had the privilege of knowing her, he had learned just how kind, how encouraging, how wonderful this princess, this pony was. Every single day that he woke up, he wanted to learn more about her: her likes, her dislikes, what she liked to do and where she liked to go.
It was like he was a little kid again and his crush had just agreed to go to prom with him, but times a million better and more wholesome. This feeling he felt, as he laid there, snuggled up against this strange creature whom he had let into his home, was one that he had never felt before. It was a powerful feeling, an exciting one. It made him both scared and giddy, along with nervous and frightened and happy and glad. He might not fully know this princess, this Celestia, and after he had learned just how old she was, he might never know her. But as he sat there, enjoying the feeling of her chin rubbing against the top of his head, lying against her vulnerable and relaxed and happy, he knew that he wanted to try. He wanted to try with all of his heart.
James was half asleep when there was a knock on the door. Both he and Celestia twitched at the sudden, seemingly booming noise. They looked at each other for a few moments, confused as to who would be calling upon them at this hour. There was another knock at the door, this one more of a tap than a knock.
Untangling himself from his princess, James began to make his way to the door. Celestia tried to playfully grab him and drag him back onto the futon with her wings, but with some equally playful slaps, he managed to make his way to the door without much of a fuss.
Stopping a foot from it, he looked himself over. He ran a hand through his messy hair, straightened out his old, ratty t-shirt by rigorously tugging on it, and wiggled around to unwrinkle his pants. Yawning, he then grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, taking a step back as he did so. Opening the door, he saw Rachel, dirty and sweaty and frazzled, standing out in the hallway, tugging at the bottom of her shirt. Beside her was an equally dirty and frazzled earth pony with a cowboy hat who looked like he had been crying recently.
James’s brow furrowed in confusion and surprise. He opened his mouth to say something but no sound came out. He tried again with similar results as the earth pony looked up at Rachel, who bit her lip.
“...Hello, James,” she said shyly. “I made a new friend today. His name’s Braeburn.” She stared down at her feet, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet. “Would it be alright if we came in? I have… I want to… can we talk? Please?”
James blinked owlishly as the young woman’s pleading tone. This wasn’t the Rachel that he knew. The Rachel that he knew wouldn’t be this quiet, and she most certainly wouldn’t be asking him to come in like this, dirty and exhausted as she was. He had known her for more than two years and he had never seen her like this—this open, this exposed, this scared.
He looked her up and down as she stood there quietly, waiting for his verdict when, to her surprise, he took a step back and nodded his head. The young woman brightened in a way that nearly made him smile, but he forced his face into a neutral mask.
He would listen to what she had to say first. Then, and only then, would he decided if she was worth bothering with. Besides, she looked like she had a story to tell. A story which he would most definitely like to be told.
“Alright,” he said as Celestia climbed to her hooves, curious to see who the visitors were. “Come on in.”
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how long is this fic? i hope to see more
I hoped protagonist will take a gun, kick off balls of weak-willed boyfriend, shoot down Celestia like true American. But story itself shows right moral- people really need more love and care this days.
If the ponies are so lonely then why aren't they starting relationships with the other creatures in their world like the griffons or smaller dragons?
Rachel used BOOP. It's super effective!
Well, the only good thing about this story was that it was just five chapters long.
What's the matter with people? Why so much hate? How the hell do I get to this Universe?!
This was nicely done. Thank you for writing this.
Well, that ended somehow unsatisfiyng. Kinda... dunno, way to open end? Maybe that´s just me.
Really enjoyed this. Just wish it was longer.
and thus began the ponies.....
WORLD DOMINATION!!!
cool story dude!
woot!
7588113
Indeed. Their manipulation of our emotions makes them a credible threat to mankind's continued autonomy. In this instance, regardless of intent, their actions will inevitably lead to make us as helpless as nature and weather in their lands.
As unfortunate as it is, (seeing as I now have a uniquely new perspective into my own story) they act as invaders.
7607943
Thus, Mankind fell into a dreamless sleep... from which it would never awaken.
7586354 griffons are basically annyoned of each other, never mind others and small dragons are... well dragons
7621393
And humans aren't annoyed at each other?
Besides, griffons are so cuddly looking.
7621830 annoyed wasn't the right word. anyway, griffons also don't seem like the social types with the exception of one
7612498 i dont know he seemed pretty checked out from his relationship with Rachel, so guess he wanted to try something new....
I am very pleased to find that this story does showcase the premise that I suspected that it might when I first started reading it. Yes, western society does very much feature a certain gender-based lopsidedness,so ingrained that many people cannot or will not see it, any more than they can see the air that engulfs them every day of their lives.
From the comments, it seems that very few readers picked up on this, preferring instead to take either a "humans are the best!" point of view or a "hail the conquerors" view. Oh dear readers, sometimes it's so very much easier to find fault when gazing outward than when gazing inward. No one was conquered here. Liberated maybe, but not conquered.
To the author, I suspect this scenario you propose might very well happen, not at the hooves of "invaders," but from the hands of AI and virtual girlfriends. As VR improves, as AI improves, as...robots improve, sooner or later somebody's going to ask themselves if it's really worth all the effort to put up with the socially expected nonsense that is western dating. Worth all the time and effort and money and misery and self-deprecation of throwing yourself out there only to be disposable for someone who can replace you so easily.
What happens when the other side learns what it means to be so easily replaceable? Learns what it means to give your all day in and day out and yet be found continually wanting because "better models" are so abundantly available and so eager to please? Realizes that just maybe they didn't have it quite so bad as they loudly insisted?
When that day should come, let us at least have the decency to not take pleasure in their misfortune.
7858954 You have read *waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay* too much into this. It's a story about a single jerk getting a comeuppance and learning a lesson from it.
EDIT TO ADD: Oh dear, it appears some thumbs-down trolls don't like me explaining the facts of life to someone who got it completely wrong. Sucks to be you, kiddos.
I was kind of hoping this would go somewhere unpredictable or have some kind of message. It really didn't. Oh well, whatever.
You know, it`s rare for a story to be decently written and still disgust me so much.
You handed a humongous idiot ball to the protagonist, and celebrate dancing around it all five chapters.
There`s a lot of places where Rachel could have easily turned the things around simply by telling unvarnished truth, instead of floundering around saying a lot of vaguely racist nothing. For example, in chapter three.
“Have you tried talking to one of them?”
She put the glass down and stared at Chelsea incredulously. "Seriously? Were you even listening? For crying out loud, I have been telling you about how I had a talk with their princess, and you still ask if I tried talking to any of them? Oh YES, I had! And what did the pony did after that talk, hm? Kicked me out of MY apartment. On which I`m STILL paying rent. For crying out loud, if she wants James, fine! She can have him. But god damn it all, what does a princess need MY APARTMENT FOR!? They`re all high and mighty talking about how callous I am, but you won`t catch them saying a thing about what kind of callous shit they do to ME, no siree. Ponies are all that is good and just in this world, apparently, and if some unwashed monkey like me loses her home to their whims, well all for the better apparently! So tell me, Chelsea, do I REALLY have anything good to expect from any of them, if their princess acts so?"
8162237
There's certainly a message, and I'm pretty sure the intended one is what 7858954 said, though you could also read it as being about FiM fandom in general.
8198509
Lordbucket is reading into this way too much. I don't count puddle-shallow morality of "friendship = good, hate = bad" as any kind of message or purpose for a story, and that's all this story really offered. I mean that's not to say that you can't have a story with that kind of morality but you have to have something else too, and this story lacked anything else. The only reason I even bothered reading it is because I thought it would subvert my expectations somehow but it didn't in the slightest.
8177250 I'm curious, did you find that unrealistic? Because in my experience, people very often can't see past the end of their own nose like that. People that deep in "self-absorbed victim mode" are surprisingly common. Everything is about them, and everyone else is the problem. Heck, I'm pretty sure that *everybody* behaves like that occasionally, even if they're old and mature enough to know better. That's just life.
8243042
I find it unrealistic that someone stuck in a "victim mode" chose not to air complaints that would`ve actually garnered a sympathetic response. A complaint of the "boyfriend dumped me for an alien princess" is iffy - regardless of how good or bad you are to aforementioned boyfriend, he is a free person, and there is no specific crime in falling in love. In the same time, a complaint of the "alien princess seduced my boyfriend and kicked me out of my apartment" is wholly different fish - it places the blame solely on 'alien princess' and lays an actual, law-regulated transgression at her feet. Out of those two complaints, the first would garner the "there there, you`ll find yourself a better boyfriend" response at best - not particularly useful. Second complaint, however, will definitely elicit responses of the "how awful" and "you should sue" kind, which are much more useful kinds of response. Why useful? Because if first complaint would at best, garner placating, second is a good enough as a rallying cry to get back at your offenders, regardless of how grievous their actual crimes are.
8243240
If you really find that unrealistic, then you haven't met very many people. When you're pissed off and not being rational, and particularly when you're certain it's self-evident that you're the victim, then you tend not to think of minutiae like that.
8244184
In the heat of moment, maybe. But the subject in question had ample time to simmer down, stew on it and mull the question from all possible angles. People who are feeling slighted tend to mull over their slights over and over and over - and yes, that does include ample consideration dedicated towards presenting their side of it in best light for the public.
You said read to the end, so I powered through despite the premise expecting some payoff like they were all changelings or something, but it never came.
I've read many stories about human and pony relationship, RGRE applies here, and it is really interesting to read the same scenario from the opposite perspective. I like, how there is no good or bad people, just persons, that really needs to learn from their mistakes, that is what making them relatable.
What surprised me most about this story, and disappointed me a bit, is why wasn't Celestia's first inclination be to help James and Rachel in their relationship? That would have been the right thing to do for someone as patient and benevolent as her. If you wanted the story to track the same arc, then you could have Rachel refusing her help in denial and that be the clue (to the reader and herself) that the relationship wasn't healthy; she'd be blaming the outsiders for their problems, for meddling.
I get the intent was to try to make the first chapter funny and a bit shocking, but it comes across as cliche and, well, I find myself siding with Rachel anyway even though I'm not supposed to. And then you double down in later chapters to make her a selfish bitch (basically) so we understand she's in the wrong. It feels lazy and uninspired.
And then in the fourth chapter we have what is essentially a magical old black man (with wings) dropped into the story to give her some perspective? Yeesh. (Is this supposed to be a satire?)
On top of all this, I just feel this miasma of an overarching message that men are put upon by unreasonable demands from women that feels like it belongs in certain subreddits. Which makes me think that none of y'all who feel sorry James have ever dated anyone seriously and have bizarre ideas about it, or haven't yet grown a spine, or have just really poor taste in romantic partners, or something.
Because feeling that way about women isn't normal.
If Rachel is supposed to be some template for the selfish, self-absorbed modern gal, then y'all have set yourself up with a doozy of a strawwoman to knock down. I feel like it's not coming from an honest or realistic place.
At least we get some Braeburn to knock that strawwoman over with; he's a super cutie.
Wow that was refreshingly different!
And that ending felt like a perfect segue to a sequel showcasing Rachel's social rehabilitation.
I feel like this needs a continuation
And being a lover of simple short one shots that's saying something.