No Disguise for that Double Vision
“My stuff!”
Princess Twilight frowned, mid-step on her way to the kitchen to grab lunch. (Or to shoo out Trixie, if necessary.) That was her voice. With the right note of panic, even.
“Twilight,” said another voice, which sounded an awful lot like Pinkie's, “you weren't going to need a crockpot.”
“That's not the point! The point is that it shouldn't have vanished when we went through!”
Twilight trotted toward the source of the noise, then galloped. Possibilities ran through her head: Changelings. Mirror pool. Time travel. Similo duplexis. Got drunk, recorded a strange conversation with Pinkie, and forgot about it.
“All that stuff's gone,” her voice continued from the basement, “but I keep my glasses, you kept your backpack, and we keep our geodes! This is baloney!”
Princess Twilight skidded to a halt as she reached the basement, took a moment to assess the situation, and breathed a sigh of relief. In the room before her was a magic mirror, and two ponies standing in front of it: Pinkie Pie, happily bouncing on four legs, and another Twilight standing uneasily on two. A Twilight, in fact, with no wings and a pair of square glasses.
Right. Alternate dimensional counterparts. Twilight grunted to herself. I have too many plausible reasons for encountering body doubles in my life. “Hello!” she said, cheerfully. “You two are the Pinkie and Twilight from the human world, aren't you? What brings you to Equestria?”
Pinkie froze mid-bounce and narrowed her eyes at Two-Leg Twilight. “Twilight?” she said. “Is there an eensy-teensy chance you didn't tell Sunset to tell Princess Twilight we were coming?”
Two-Light grinned, looking for all the world like a pet who'd made a mess on the good carpet. “Eheh. Princess Twilight? Could you please bring your Pinkie Pie over?”
It was ten minutes later, and Pinkie had arrived (with nametags—kept everywhere in case of nametag emergencies), and Two-Light still hadn't gotten onto four legs. “Just act like a horse,” Two-Pie said, giggling as Two-Light lost her balance for the dozenth time and teetered backward several steps.
“I did not,” Two-Light muttered, “do all this jogging for nothing!”
“Uh, maybe you did?” Two-Pie shrugged. “Because while you were jogging, I was training for this trip too! By walking around on all fours like a weirdo. But who's the weirdo now?”
Two-Light grunted.
“Anyway!” Pinkie clapped her hooves together, her face assuming its natural smiling position. “Let's get down to brass-tacks! So you want to be the best party-planner ever?”
“Yes!” said Two-Pie, leaning forward and smiling the same smile back.
Twilight glanced between them a few times. Unlike her and the wingless Two-Light, the resemblance between Pinkie and Two-Pie was almost flawless: Two-Pie was wearing a gem necklace, and had no cutie mark, but that was all.
“Okay!” Pinkie said. “Why do you want to be the best party-planner ever?”
“Well....” Two-Pie's face fell. “There's this puppy hospital in town, and it's running out of money for the puppies, and it's gonna get torn down in a month and replaced with a puppy hurtspital! That's a building specifically for hurting puppies!” she yelled, leaning further forward in open defiance of gravity. “And I've gotta put on the bestest fundraiser party ever to stop it!”
Two-Light actually sat down at that. “Pinkie,” she said with a blanked-out look, in open defiance of Two-Pie's nametag (arguably ruder than the earlier gravitic defiance). “I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as a puppy hurtspital—”
“Exactly!” Two-Pie zoomed into her face. “Pretty sure, as in not completely sure, as in shush! It's like you don't even care about those puppies!”
“I do! I think?”
“Then it's settled.” Two-Pie returned her rapt attention to Pinkie. “I know you've got a few years on me in the party planning departyment. That's why I need you to teach me how to throw the best parties ever, just like you do!”
“Just like I do, huh?” Pinkie made a pulling motion with her hoof near her neck, tugging at a collar she didn't have. “Well, it's kinda short notice, and I've never really had an apprentice or anything, and... can we start tomorrow?”
July 14 (Night)
Eeeee we're startying the partying tomorrow! I'm superdupercited!
Twi says hi—both of them do—they're not here right now because they're still talking about magic and research and other smart-person stuff! Uh, smart pony stuff?
It feels weird trying to get comfortable as a horse. Mouth-writing's hard too, but I'm managing.
Oh, before I forget, how was your doctor’s appointment?
-Pinkie
Fine.
-Marble
Fine is great! All right, gotta sleep. Sweet dreams!
-Pinkie
Sweet dreams, Pinkie.
-Marble
Hey, Marble. You doing okay?
-Pinkie.
Yeah.
-Marble
You know you can talk to me about anything if you want to, right?
-Pinkie
Yeah.
-Marble
Or say more than three words at a time? And we can probably stop signing our names on these.
go the fuck to sleep
it's two in the morning
this stupid diary is buzzing every five minutes
See? I totally knew it was Limestone there even though she didn't sign!
Good night, Limestone.
eat a dick
Love you too, sis.
“But why can't I watch you do it?” Pinkie Jr. wailed, digging in what would have been her heels as Pinkie Sr. pushed her steadily toward the door.
“And why am I helping?” Twilight Jr. asked, with Pinkie's other forehoof on her rear.
“Because I need to watch how you do it,” Pinkie Sr. grunted, “and you are gonna need help because you don't have those weird claw thingies that your kind usually has.” Sr. sent the two of them sprawling inside the room with a final push.
Pinkie Jr. got to her hooves and glanced around at the room, which seemed to be in the center of the castle. Seven chairs—thrones, really—encircled a central crystal table with a map projected from it. Above hung something like a chandelier, made of tree roots.
More importantly, covering the chairs were various supplies: streamers, colored paper, confetti, that sort of thing. “You have two hours,” Pinkie Sr. said with the seriousness of a drill sergeant, “to throw the best party you can. Materials are limited to what you see before you, what you brought yourself, and also if you find any hidden confetti cannons you can use those. Oh, and you'll need food, so kitchens are down the hall and second right. Begin!”
She slammed the door, which had a stained-glass window set into it. Within moments, Pinkie Jr. saw a pink shape hovering behind the glass.
“They're hands!” Pinkie Jr. yelled, pounding her hooves. “They're not weird claw thingies!”
“Forget it,” Twilight Jr.—or maybe just Twilight, since the princess wasn't here—said. “She's probably not listening.”
“I don't get it!” Pinkie Jr. shrieked. “I should be watching her! She's the superduper party pony with the magic tramp stamp—”
“Cutie mark.”
“—to prove she's a superduper party pony!” She slumped to the floor, glancing back at her woefully bare butt. “Wish I had a magic tramp stamp. That's gotta be easier to get than a resume, or a college degree....”
“Cutie mark,” Twilight repeated. She walked, somewhat clumsily, to Pinkie's side. “Remind me, where are you going to school again?”
“Clown college! But the admissions officer says I have to call it 'Princeton'.” Pinkie shrugged. “Either way, it's a party school. You?”
“Well, I've got standing offers from fifteen colleges to show up if I want, no questions asked, so... hard to choose.” Twilight frowned. “I'm thinking somewhere close to home? So I can spend more time with family.”
“Mm. Really good idea. Can you start hanging those streamers? I'd do it, but....” Pinkie shook her hooves.
“Princess Twilight says that you get used to it.” Nonetheless, Twilight closed her eyes and concentrated, her geode and horn glowing as one. The streamers flew into the air, arranging themselves in perfect rotational symmetry above the table—
“Hey,” Twilight said, her eye quirking open. The streamers sagged toward the floor. “Princeton's really far away. Wouldn't you want to be somewhere closer?”
Pinkie grimaced. “Look, just... hold up the streamers, okay? I think I have an idea of where to put them.”
Pinkie Sr. trotted into the room and gave it a cursory glance. “Not bad.”
Pinkie Jr. deflated, heaving breaths and drenched in sweat. “Not bad? I poured my heart into this party, and it gets a not bad?”
“Why are you sweating,” Twilight Jr. mumbled, prone on the floor behind Pinkie Jr. “I did all the lifting.”
The room was as festooned as a room could reasonably be. Streamers hung from the roots above the table, and paper cutouts of ponies hung from the streamers. Complementing them were balloons hanging up from the thrones. Lots of hanging going on, in fact.
Pinkie Jr. gulped as her senior stepped forward: every calculated look she made felt like a sentence from a judge. Behind her, Twilight Sr. trotted into the room levitating a flotilla of refreshments, and deposited one by Twilight Jr, who gratefully gulped it down.
“All right,” Pinkie Sr. said, tapping Twilight Sr. on the shoulder. “Twilight, do you have a clipboard with you?”
“Why would you just assume—”
Pinkie Sr. gave her a flat look.
“Here,” Twilight Sr. said, producing a clipboard, paper, and pencil from somewhere Pinkie Jr. couldn't see. “It's my good one, so don't scuff it.”
Pinkie Sr. placed it on the ground and jotted down some notes, then lifted the clipboard and proffered it to Pinkie Jr. “Here's some tips for how you can improve. You've got a good grasp of the fun-damentals, but your party doesn't really have a recognizable theme and it's not easy to understand the direction. It's like you're throwing fun stuff together without something to tie it in.”
“Theme?” Pinkie Jr. stood at once with a squint. “Parties need themes?”
“It helps more than you'd think.”
“Prove it!” Pinkie Jr. stomped closer to her senior. “Show me how you do it, and then I'll just do that!”
Pinkie Sr. grimaced like she had the previous night. “Ooh boy. I was hoping we could avoid this.”
“Avoid what?”
“I can't show you how I plan a party.”
Pinkie Jr.'s jaw dropped from the bombshell. Sr. continued, “Or I could, but it wouldn't help you.”
“You think I wouldn't learn anything?”
“Not exactly. I think you'd learn to be a party planner just like me.” Pinkie Sr. shook her head. “And that's bad, because you need to learn to be a party planner just like you.”
“But—but I am you! And you are me!” Pinkie Jr. sputtered. She jabbed a hoof at the two Twilights. “And she is she!”
“Coo-coo-ca-choo?” Twilight Jr. said, sitting a little more upright now and sipping on clear water.
“What?” Twilight Sr. asked.
“Nothing.”
“You are me,” Pinkie Jr. said, advancing on her elder counterpart, “but with more experience and less fingers, right? You're everything I'm trying to be!”
“Well, um... I know that sounds right, but the thing is....”
Pinkie Sr. glanced at Twilight Sr., who sighed and said, “I think what Pinkie's trying to say is that, no matter what it looks like, she's not just a better version of you. You shouldn't be trying to copy her.”
“But she—I—we're literally—” Pinkie Jr. zipped off, returned with a pillow, and screamed into it. “Okay,” she panted. “Sure. So does that mean you can't teach me anymore? Then who's gonna help me?”
“Don't worry about that.” Pinkie Sr. winked. “I may be Equestria's premiere party pony, but luckily for you I am not its.... Um.” She glanced back at Twilight Sr. “Is there a word for 'only' that starts with 'P'?”
She called them the 'Party Sages'. And then said that she'd made that name up and that if I called them that, they'd probably be confused, so don't call them that.
Anyway, they're the ones I must seek out to master the ancient art of the party! Crazy, right? And their names are: Cheese Sandwich. Party Favor. Discord. Luna. And
SombnambullerSome NambalaSumnum
Pinkie spat out her pencil and called out, “Twilight!”
Across the bedroom, Twilight glanced up from her work: jamming a saddlebag with as many supplies, coins, and doodads as would fit. All had been donated by Twilight Sr., to replace what had vanished upon their trip through the portal. “What is it, Pinkie?”
“Can you spell Somnambula for me?”
Twilight sighed, grabbed the pencil with her magic, and dashed out the word 'Somnambula'.
“Thanks! Actually,” Pinkie said, scrutinizing the word and mentally comparing it with her earlier, clumsy attempts, “would it be okey-dokey if you helped me write these from now on? You're way faster than my mouth.”
“Uh....” Twilight shrugged. “Give me a minute, then sure, I guess?”
“You're the best!”
Oh my gosh this is so much better! Now I can say everything I want to say, and I mean everything write that last everything in italics but don't write the part where I tell you to write in italics
Pinkie
So the first thing was, Pinkie Sr. told me to throw the best party I possibly could and that was fine, I guess, except she was supposed to be showing me how she does it not the other way around
Pinkie stop
But whatever I figure I'm the best party person ever so I guess I'll just throw a party! What if you made like little stars around the word party, hang on are you writing down the parts where I tell you how to write it? Stop it, Twilight!
Pinkie you're writing too fast
what happenedSorry. Twilight's helping. Human person Twilight, not pony princess Twilight.
Twilight's reading our diary?
I guess? More like she's writing in our diary.
Tell her to fuck off
Oh wait I can tell her to fuck off
Fuck off
I love this magic diary, that felt great
I'm gonna do it again
Twilight and Pinkie watched, helpless, as the page filled spontaneously with expletives. “It doesn't even look like a word anymore,” Twilight said after a minute. “And this is your sister?”
“Limestone's great once you get to know her!”
“Sure.” Twilight rolled her eyes, then returned to packing up: now she had a stack of books to shove into a new saddlebag. “I can see why you might have needed a dimension's worth of space for a while.” She grabbed the books in her magic and heaved as hard as she could, but the bag didn't quite want to close around them. “Pinkie,” she grunted, turning around, “could you help me with—why are you glaring at me?”
“I'm not glaring!” said Pinkie, glaring. “What? No, I just—” her eye twitched “—my family's great, and I'm not doing this trip to run away from them, okay? I'm doing it to throw an awesome party!”
“Right, right. For the puppies.”
“Huh? Yeah, the puppies!”
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Was the cover art made by Lia?
8714524
It sure was! The link to the source was already on the image but I've added a link to the artist's DeviantArt page in the description, too.
8714600
👍
Cheese Sandwich? Discord? Somnambula?
Ohhh, dis gon b gud.
Some great lines here.
"But worth it! I've got muscles now—” she flexed, revealing an arm with the definition of a bent hotdog
“Clown college! But the admissions officer says I have to call it 'Princeton'.”
8715179
8715585
Glad you both enjoyed it so far! I hope you're looking forward to the daily updates!
8715651
Darn tootin' I am! The only other fic I'm following that updates daily is The Maretian.
On that note, I just published my second chapter of fanfiction ever. Feels good to get that done. Now if only I can do the same for my homework... Help me.
8715651
Daily updates, you say?!
And you have a similar style to FanofMostEverything?!
I'm in!
Princeton's a party school? Why didn't someone tell me?
Limestone Pie: always a good choice. :D
Oh my word. I... well that's one way to seed foreshadowing and mental cues of what's going on with a character. #secondreadthroughdoubletakes
That last one is just so...ordinary, I guess, that it’s kind of hilarious.
I don’t know why this struck me as so funny, but it did. Upvote.
Also, I love Limestone’s journal entries.
I’ve been on this site for over two years, so how is this the first time I’ve seen a cutie mark called that? Upvote—oh, wait, I already did that.
Simpsons reference, FTW. (Or was that Yale? Either way.)
And some more Limestone awesomeness.
But, oh boy, that last segment.
Coo-coo-cah-chewwww