Chapter 29
Esmeralda had quieted, but was not yet asleep. She gnawed on anything she could get in her mouth; Copperquick’s schoolbook, Buttermilk’s cardigan that she had left on the bed, her stuffed eggplant, her father’s hoof, the corner of the pillow, the wadded end of the blanket, and then she settled on her carrot, which she chewed on with her eyes closed. When Copperquick looked at her, all he could see was how much she had grown, something that only a parent would notice. She lay on her back with her carrot resting upon her stomach, chewing on the green foliage end while making contented little hoofy kicks.
A gentle knock on the door got Copperquick’s attention, and he checked Esmeralda first to see if she was disturbed before looking up at the door. Was it Butter Fudge, he wondered? Had somepony come to apologise or to discuss what had happened? Whatever it was, there was no point in keeping them waiting, and Copperquick was mindful to keep his voice down.
“Do come in,” he said in a hushed whisper, and he hoped that he was heard.
When the door opened, Copperquick saw a flash of blue and when Mighty Midge entered, he was carrying a piece of paper beneath his wing. The small stallion, slight of build, took a look around the room for a moment and then his eyes came to rest on Esmeralda. For a time, he looked as though he was about to say something, but nothing came out. In silence, he moved closer towards the bed, and then extending his wing, he set the canary yellow sheet of paper down near Copperquick’s open schoolbook.
“What’s this?” Copperquick asked.
“I am having a crisis of conscience,” Mighty Midge replied.
“I don’t follow.” Copperquick eyeballed the paper and saw loopy, carnival like print.
“Gambling is wrong, and I feel that it causes moral decay in a community. I believe that ponies who gamble are wrong. Money is wasted on gambling, when you can provide a sure thing by paying for food and the cost of living.” Mighty Midge now looked guilty, and his wings sagged against his sides, which caused his primaries to brush against the floor. “I have spent the whole of my life campaigning against gambling in our community.”
“What’s this all about?” Copperquick lifted his head and looked who was sure to be his future father-in-law in the eye, but found that Mighty Midge would not meet his gaze.
“There is going to be a derby… a gambling event. Thankfully, it is for a good cause and the money collected goes towards charity, and that’s the only reason why I’m doing this.” Mighty Midge cleared his throat a few times, and when he spoke again, his voice was husky with shame. “Winner of the derby gets one-thousand gold bits and it costs one hundred gold bits to enter.”
“What’s this got to do with me? I don’t even have that kind of money—”
“I’ve already paid the entrance fee.” Mighty Midge’s ears pinned backwards, and his pupils grew in size while his eyes turned glassy. “Alicorns be damned, you’re fast. This money isn’t much, but it’ll give you and Beezy a bit of money to live on. Do right, Copper.”
Stunned, Copperquick’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“Day after tomorrow, Copper. Stretch your legs and do whatever it is that you need to do to be ready. Don’t blow this opportunity. I watched you run when we were coming back from Flapper’s. Nopony moves like that, least not round here. You gotta gift, Copper, use it.”
The blue pegasus gave himself a shake to regain his composure, cast a final glance at Esmeralda, and then was out the door before Copperquick could recover enough to respond. With a click, the bedroom door shut, and one stunned father cast a sidelong glance at his sleepy, teething daughter. Then he looked at the paper once more, began to read it, and deep within his barrel a peppy spark of hope ignited.
It was obvious that Esmeralda was fighting to stay awake now and the little filly yawned in between halfhearted chomps on her stuffed carrot. She lay against her father’s side, no doubt trying to soothe the incessecent ache in her gums. Meanwhile, Copperquick was trying to read his textbook, but was doing a poor job, because he was a little too excited about the derby. For a few moments, he had wondered why Buttermilk’s father had done this, but then realised that it didn’t matter; what mattered now was that he made the most of it.
Kicking her legs, Esmeralda banged them against her father’s ribs, but he ignored her while staring into his Equineology textbook. It wasn’t that the filly was in a bad mood, but that she was just in a mood. Her eyes opened wide for a moment just after a yawn, she looked around, tilting her head to look in the direction of her father’s face, and then she battled to keep her eyes open. Her fuzzy little chin was slick with drool, her carrot was soggy and limp, and it was obvious that she had nothing left. One eye closed, but not the other, and she gave her stuffy a moody bite before the other eye shut.
Then, with a whine, she succumbed to sleep.
Copperquick, whose fatherly senses told him that his daughter was asleep and breathing, and wasn’t dead and not-breathing, relaxed a little. To suddenly have one’s daughter go still was always a fright, it never failed to unnerve him, and both of his ears pivoted around to better listen to the reassuring sound of each breath she drew.
One day, perhaps one day soon, Esmeralda would talk his ears off before bed. Why, she might whine, kick, and cry. She might demand that a story be read to her, or she could very well try to bargain about what sort of snack she might have before going to sleep. Someday soon, she would have opinions, ideas, and questions—but for now, she was quiet. For now, she was sweet and these precious moments were to be treasured.
Content, smiling, Copperquick settled into his studies and was able to pay attention to what he was reading, which mentioned the importance of empirical analytical investigation in societal phenomenon involving the various interactions of equines with one another. This new study section focused heavily upon the nuts and bolts of equinology, the hows and the whys, and would delve deeply into how pattern recognition of certain behaviours could affect everything from societal policy, social welfare, and even individual agency, because awareness brought changes to an observed system.
One of the study bullet points was sexuality, deviancy, and the societal mores involved.
Copperquick was a deviant, he knew this, because he fetishised wings and feathers. He found them appealing and they were the primary focus of his sexuality. He lived in a time where earth ponies and pegasus ponies got along with one another and interacted, but this wasn’t always the case. In the past, his deviancy would have caused all manner of social upset, should he of acted upon it somehow. It might have been enough to have him cast as a social pariah, an outcast from the specialised herd known as earth ponies.
Of course, he had other fetishes that had recently developed, and this had to do with the sociological impact of uniforms; visual indicators of a recognised standard. Society had all manner of uniforms that carried with them a weighty understanding; police officers were recognised as figures of authority, so were guards, and of course the royals, who wore crowns. Copperquick had a thing for librarians now, and there was, in fact, a recognisable uniform for librarians, who also bore the vestments of authority in society.
It was hard to describe, but Copperquick knew it when he saw it, and he saw it with Buttermilk. Her frumpy cardigans, her bun, her eyeglasses, her clean, approachable, studious nature, she was very much a librarian type even if she was not in command of a fortress of books. Buttermilk Oddbody was a pegasus librarian type, which mashed all of the right buttons and triggered his attraction factors.
Speaking of attraction factors… Buttermilk pushed the door open, stepped through, and shut it behind her. Her mane was down, the long, wavy tendrils spilled down her neck, her withers, her shoulders, and clung to her forelegs. Her return to the room brought the scent of floral soap and what Copperquick could describe as ‘damp pegasus smell,’ which was distinctly different from the scent of dampened earth ponies.
His studies forgotten, Copperquick watched her every move and did nothing to hide it. She blinked at him, which made his heart flutter, and her hazel-green eyes bewitched him. Copperquick’s ears rose into an erect position, but slowly, and pivoted forwards in anticipation of hearing anything that might come from Buttermilk. The pegasus mare froze in place, shy, reserved, and this only fanned the flames of Copperquick’s desire.
Buttermilk’s lips moved, forming words, and Copperquick couldn’t tell if she was speaking in a low whisper or if he was imagining the sound of her voice—both were possible and every muscle in his body tensed with what she had to say.
“You’re in a mood to make a sibling for Esme right now, aren’t you?”
Licking his lips once, then twice, Copperquick nodded. That sounded perfectly pleasant right about now, consequences or no. His mind flooded with all manner of feverish fantasies involving wings and Buttermilk’s book return. Chuffing, Copperquick wickered; much to his surprise, Buttermilk returned the sound, though her wickering was muted and far more feminine. It was enough to make his heart start racing though.
“I feel so dirty for having said that.” Buttermilk’s voice was little more than a whisper or imagination, Copperquick couldn’t tell, but her lips continued to move. “I feel as though I should return myself to the shower at once.”
Reaching out his foreleg, Copperquick patted the bed, inviting the pretty pegasus maid to come closer and join him. Buttermilk hesitated, blushing, and when she did move closer, she almost tripped over her own front legs. She flapped, all gawky limbs, and somehow managed to keep herself upright. Recovering herself, she lept up onto the bed, landing as light as a falling feather, and then, after turning around in a circle three times, she lay down.
Making a bold move, Copperquick stretched out his neck, lowered his head, and buried his nose into Buttermilk’s flowing tail. She let out an alarmed squeak while drawing in her hind legs to protect her vulnerable places, but Copperquick ignored her panic while having himself a good sniff. When, by accident, his snoot grazed the gentle curve of her hindquarters, mere inches away from her butterchurn, his whole body jerked in startled response.
“That’s very forward of you,” Buttermilk said in the lowest whisper she could muster.
“Am I bothering you?” Copperquick asked, breathing out the words and playing the dangerous game of, ‘don’t wake the baby.’
“A little… yes…”—Buttermilk’s face darkened and she tucked all four of her legs beneath her while she rolled over onto her stomach—“Copper, you’re bigger than I am by far and that scares me. I told you about my claustrophobic response already. You scare me. When you’re bold, aggressive, and forward, I have these scary nightmare moments that I won’t be able to tell you no. I had a pretty frightening moment earlier when you held me at the table. You overpowered me and wouldn’t let go. It’s left me shaken, Copper.”
Unnerved, Copperquick pulled his head away and his ears pinned back, conveying his submissive intent. Buttermilk’s expression was difficult to read, but it worried him, and after studying her face for a few intense seconds, he found what he was looking for: fear. This was the last thing he wanted, for her to be afraid of him, but because he had listened to what she had to say about this previously, he understood why.
“I never meant—”
“I know…” Buttermilk gasped out the words and her lips made exaggerated movements to make up for her lack of volume. “It’s me, Copper, I’m having a silly filly moment. I’m plotting the event that will change our relationship forever and I am scared. I’m terrified. I keep imagining all of the ways it might go wrong. It’s rough, Copper, because I want to please you and make you happy and I want you to be happy with me, and I keep thinking about all of the dreadful things Moomy has said about keeping a stallion happy, and my head is not in a good place right now, Copper. I’m a mess and it is all coming out as fears that can be known because I have so many fears of the unknown plaguing me.”
Copperquick was a bit uncertain of a few things that Buttermilk had said, mostly because he didn’t understand, but he did his best to show that he was listening. Real listening, not just the nod-along listening that he had done in the past so he could have his way with his infatuation of the moment.
“Moomy has filled my head with so much garbage,” Buttermilk continued in a scratchy whisper and her lips contorted into a fierce scowl. “Now I can’t even be sure about my own motivations for doing the dirty deed with you. I can’t tell if this is something that I want, or if I am doing it because I’m scared that you’ll lose interest in me and leave me if I don’t. What am I doing? Why am I doing it? I feel like I am flying in a deadening fog, and I can’t tell which way is up or down. She has me second-guessing myself again, and doubting everything I do, just like how it was before I left home for school. I hate this, Copper, because now it is messing with my relationship with you and Esme. And… and… and… I’m… I am… I’m mad.”
Gritting her teeth, Buttermilk went silent.
Pulling himself forward on the bed, Copperquick did his best not to disturb Esmeralda too much, and he could feel the bedspread wadding up beneath him, which was a bit uncomfortable. But that didn’t matter, because Buttermilk was uncomfortable, and that made him feel bad, mostly because he didn’t know how to fix it. With a sigh, he rested his head upon Buttermilk’s croup and let out a weary sigh.
“Copper, you’re heavy.” Buttermilk’s words came out as a faint whine and she turned her head around to look back at him. “Feeling that heaviness back there is freaking me out.”
Even though he felt bad, Copperquick did not budge, even when Buttermilk wiggled beneath him. With his ears drooping in total and utter submission, he kept his jaw resting upon the smooth, supple curve of Buttermilk’s rather skinny backside. Relaxing his muscles, he went limp and then just laid there, unmoving.
“What are you doing?” Buttermilk demanded with as much volume as she dared, and she too was playing the dangerous game that ended when the baby woke.
In silence, Copperquick waited to see what might happen.
“What am I? Your perky pegasus pillow? How is it that your head weighs a ton, Copper?” Buttermilk squirmed, she wiggled, but try as she might, she failed to get the earth pony resting upon her backside to budge. “How is it that you haven’t crushed poor Esmeralda in your sleep?”
At this, Copperquick wanted to smile, but didn’t.
“What sort of game is this?” Buttermilk’s ears splayed out to the sides, making them look more like horns, and then they pivoted so the insides faced downward. Her tiny nostrils flared, the corner of her eye twitched, and when Copperquick still did not budge, she bared her teeth at him.
Beneath his jaw, Copperquick felt Buttermilk’s dock wiggle and a second later his neck was given a stinging slap from her tail. Even with the risk of upsetting her, he refused to budge, understanding that this was important for some reason, without knowing why. He was doing this to help Buttermilk, even though he couldn’t comprehend his own actions, and he thought to himself that maybe, perhaps, he just wanted to prove to her how gentle he could be and that there was nothing to fear.
“Fine, be that way,” Buttermilk huffed and she narrowed her eyes at Copperquick. “I have to preen my wings. “Try to not be in the way.” The tone of her voice changed and her ears took on a new position, one not so aggressive. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now, but you’re making it really hard to be angry with you with that face you’re making. If Esme inherits that from you, we’re both in big trouble.”
Figuring it was safe to relax a little bit, Copperquick did so, and he continued to peer at Buttermilk out of the corner of his eye, watching her every move. She appeared to be calming down a bit and flexing the muscles of his neck, he rubbed himself against her croup, sliding back and forth to offer a gentle massage. This got Buttermilk’s attention, he could feel her whole body tense, and she made a strange face, a sort of drowsy, excited expression that was almost blissful.
“If we were doing something… you know, that thing that ponies do.” Buttermilk paused for a moment, closed her eyes, and relaxed a little. “But if we were doing that and it was just starting to get good, and if I asked you to stop because it was hurting me or scaring me or whatever, would you?”
“What sort of question is that?” Copperquick asked, his words muffled from laying on his own jaw, and the volume of his voice was dangerously close to enough to end the game, because Esmeralda murmured in her sleep. He almost felt insulted—he was right on the verge of it—and he couldn’t believe that Buttermilk would say such a thing.
“It’s my mother,” Buttermilk moaned and her face twisted into a contorted mess of emotions. “Copper, I’m having a hard time so please, don’t be angry with me.”
“Out with it.” Copperquick lifted his head and with a swift turn, he looked Buttermilk directly in the eye.
“Oh, I can see that you are angry—”
“But not at you.” Copperquick gave his thoughts a quick examination and determined that his words were true. He was angry at the situation, and not with Buttermilk, even though he was taken off guard. Mindful of how Buttermilk might be scared, he gave careful consideration to his demeanour. “Now out with it.”
“It’s embarrassing—”
“Out with it.”
“It’s awkward—”
“Out with it.”
“I’m having a really hard time with—”
“Out. With. It.”
“Fine.” Buttermilk spat out the word in a huff and she turned away from Copperquick so that she could stare at the wall. “Moomy, she told me a few things when she was giving me a talk about the way of things. She kinda suggested that once the deed had started, it was best to let it finish, and that asking a stallion to stop was a good way to invite trouble. If I was hurt, or scared, or I didn’t like it too much, she said it was best to grin and bear it, and let him finish, because things could always be sorted out later, once it was over. She said there was no good reason to make things hard on myself, and she said that even if the deed was bad and didn’t feel so good, or that it was unpleasant, it would be a whole lot worse if it turned violent. ‘It’s better to bear it,’ she told me.”
Dumbstruck, Copperquick recoiled in disgust, and his first thought was to go and find Butter Fudge so he could give her a piece of his mind. When he realised that such an act would accomplish nothing, he ground his teeth together and was torn in two by his sudden compulsion to grab Buttermilk and hold her. Doing so would be counterproductive right now.
“As bad as it might be, it could always be worse and keeping him happy would keep it from hurting a whole lot more,” Buttermilk muttered, more to herself than to Copperquick. “Look, I’m trying to sort out all of this stuff so our first time will be special. Moomy put a lot of garbage in my head and I’m trying to do some house cleaning before I invite you inside. This is really, really hard on me and I’ve been trying to act like everything’s okay, because that’s what a good mare’s supposed to do.”
In silence, Copperquick tried to think of something meaningful to say.
“I’m really, really glad that the experimenting that I did in school was put on hold,” Buttermilk said in a vulnerable, scratchy whisper. “Copper, I wasn’t as grown up as I thought I was. I was being reckless and stupid because I was suddenly free, and I was rebelling against everything, and it all felt so good, but I’m pretty sure that if I would have done anything I would be suffering some immense regret right now. I’m just not the sort of pony that can forget my own mistakes and move on. Looking back, I was on the verge of disaster, and I feel so confused right now because I can’t figure out if it was what Moomy taught me that saved me from hurting myself, random chance, or my own common sense. I can’t sort it out and it is killing me.”
No words came.
“I don’t want my mother to be right… if she’s right about one thing, then my brain will tell me that she’s right about all of the things, and I don’t know if I can live with that. If Moomy really is the one that kept me from messing up in school and doing something that I’d regret, that’d be terrible, Copper, really, really terrible, and I don’t think I could live with it. I can’t stand myself right now.”
“Look, Buttermilk, I don’t know how to say everything I want to say, so, I’ll just say this…” A sudden case of the jitters overtook Copperquick and he knew—he knew—that everything in the future hinged upon this moment and whatever he said next. “I can’t promise to be perfect, but I am going to do everything, everything I can to make you happy, so that way you’ll have nothing but good things to tell Esme about marriage, and love, and all those complicated things. I am not gonna mess those things up for her.”
Buttermilk doubled back somehow and glomped Copperquick, causing the whole bed to rock. Esmeralda snuffled in her sleep, kicked her legs, but did not wake as Buttermilk clung to her father’s neck. Drool reflected on her chin in the overhead light and the sound of eager, affectionate kisses did nothing to disturb her.
“Coming from you, that means an awful lot,” Buttermilk whispered and then she planted more tender kisses upon Copperquick’s cheeks. “That’s just the sort of reassurance I needed, thank you so much. Now, if you don’t mind, I really do need to preen my wings while they’re still a little damp from the shower I took. When I’m done, you and I are going to spoon together, and you’re going to do your schoolwork, and I’m going to sort out this mess in my head.”
When Buttermilk pulled away, Copperquick was certain that he hadn’t messed this up too badly…
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Mane event...
I can see what he was doing. Letting her get used to his weight and touch so it wasn't so alarming. It isn't a completely bad idea as it does build physical comfort with someone.
and then they smash
1.bp.blogspot.com/-rTaZteWe6Qw/WQ5ARFgKodI/AAAAAAAB1JE/_eoStUKHdzUM0uHb_WrM1Bb0TtckIPyTQCLcB/s1600/maxresdefault.jpg
The race? Put me down for 100 bots on Stitch-n-Time and another 100 on Coperquick to place.
8748302
100 Derpcoins on Copper to win.
static2.fjcdn.com/comments/You+have+eared+one+derp+coin+also+jello+pudding+_3963941321c8a24541255470cde67d87.png
If Copperquick wins the derby, that will screw up Twilight Velvet's plans, but Mighty Midge does not know this.
8748363
One thousand gold bits isn't much money... in Canterlot.
8748367
oh right, but still, i thought the plan required being legally broke, and as chump changy as 1000 gold bits is in canterlot terms, Velvet's opponents seem unscrupulous, and it just feels like the sort of twist you would pull into the narrative.
And celebrities with a cause and interesting story don’t hurt.
Mr Copperquick, how do you feel about the race?
I understand you are an activist for an unusual cause - single fathers, can you tell us about that?
8748375
Copper gets a small stipend for his work that he does. He has some money, it just isn't enough to provide for himself and his daughter.
Holy crap both of these mares have no idea how healthy interpersonal and romantically intimate relationships are supposed to work. Fudge's views work almost entirely on practicality and I find it hard to completely fault that in a pragmatic sense, especially since she wound up with Midge who seems to be the sort to not take advantage of her ideas on the matter. Small town backwater relationships are, by necessity, very different - judging them based on a more diverse social strata is foolhardy. But has she EVER passed down the wrong knowledge.
And Beezy's trying to block out everything regarding Fudge instead of sifting through the crap from the bunk that's just been Fudge's personal experiences and observations in her narrow worldview. Fudge makes some good points in there. Like Beezy trying to find it disgusting that someone might leave her if she doesn't put out. If your partner has physical needs that aren't being met, it's healthier for everyone involved if they do leave, rather than seeking it somewhere else when you're not looking, or denying themselves something they need for what could be a long-term relationship just because you aren't comfortable providing and/or may never want to be. She's trying to mentally fight acceptance of this basic fact of healthy romantic relationships, and if she's successful in that she will have just as skewed and failed a view of them as her mother - in the opposite direction.
Really want to smack both of them with a big roll of newspapers for being dumb to themselves and each other and their stallions. Insofar as I can tell, Midge seems to be the one undergoing the most change of his own volition here. I find it hard to see him as some sort of bad husband and terrible father, when when there's a chance that he might be seen as both of these things he's - at least during these events - stepped up to the plate and started doing something about it without complaint. The Butters have gone off to be emotional and Midge is actively bettering himself and broadening his worldview, destroying and reversing beliefs he's held for decades in the span of days, in response to the new ideas he's presented with.
hmm this is strange...
This came out really well, but Buttermilk has to understand that even the worst sources can SOMETIMES be wrong, after all as the saying goes "Even a stopped clock is right twice a day". Even taking something someone said and making it your own by compromises, can be a LOT better than just discarding something entirely.