Down With the Pastryarchy

by kudzuhaiku

Chapter 27

The third day of the competition, but not technically the last day. A closing ceremony was planned for the day after and this was going to be the final closing ceremony. The big goodbye. The grand finale. The final chapter, or perhaps the epilogue. While endings were sometimes inevitable, Twilight had plans and good intentions—the very best and finest of intentions. She had high hopes.

Only one baking event would be held today for the contestants, the final one, and that would take place in the afternoon. For the morning, however, there was a baking discovery event for foals; an opportunity for the next generation to discover a love of baking. An event that offered up a chance to find a cutie mark. Twilight was required to attend and to sample the various creations of the little ones. During this time, Twilight suspected that the celebrity chef judges would be debating and settling the special show ribbons to determine this year’s big winners.

But facing the day meant getting up out of the bed, which was an absolutely dreadful idea. Twilight, flat on her back, formed the bread of a Pinkie Pie sandwich, along with Seville. Of course, at any moment now, Pinkie would go shooting out of bed, unable to contain her own energy, but this moment was lovely while it lasted. Applejack was already up and about, and Bundt had reluctantly crawled out of the bed so she could go potty.

“Twilight…”

“Yes, Pinkie?”

“There’s something you should know.”

“What’s that, Pinkie?”

“The juniour bakers events routinely give ponies food poisoning. We’ll be here for you.”

“What?”

“We’ll be here for you.”

“No, that first thing. Food poisoning?”

“They’re still learning, Twilight. It happens. Say… do you remember Applejack’s baked bads? When she was a sleepy, tired, silly pony?”

From the other room, Applejack’s voice could be heard: “I’m not a silly pony!”

“Hey, Twilight… can I ask you a personal question?”

Twilight, resigning herself to certain intestinal disaster, replied, “Sure, why not? We’re friends, right?”

“Are alicorn sphincters strong enough to hold back the worstest cases of the squishy-squirts?”

Staring up at the ceiling, Twilight did not respond right away. There was a grunt from Seville, which sounded a bit like the sort of grunt a pony makes when they attempt to swallow their own laughter. Pinkie’s leg shifted and Twilight felt the fuzzy appendage slide along her tummy—as well as other unmentionable places. Electric tingles danced up and down her spine and she hoped the pleasurable friction of movement would continue.

“Quite the opposite is true,” Twilight replied, slipping into science mode to protect her own mental state of well-being. “Alicorn gut muscles are such that everything is evacuated from the body with far greater force. Absolutely destructive force, in fact. Uh, forces greater than fire hose pressures, I suspect. Throwing up has become quite an experience.”

“Neat.” Pinkie Pie grinned. “Just imagine what morning sickness will be like!”

---

Eager little faces possessed smiles full of sunshine. Less than half an hour ago, the gleaming kitchen space had been spotless—utterly spotless. Now, it was a Category Five Disaster Zone in need of a hazmat certified clean-up crew. Earth pony adults guided earth pony foals through the difficult, intricate tasks of baking. Parents cheered from the sidelines, hooting and hollering while stomping their hooves. There was no point in crying over spilled milk, but you could say “Ew!” when stepping in it.

Twilight had but one imperative: use no magic.

No saving anything when it fell. Messes were left untidied. No magical assistance could be offered. Eggshells that made their way into food could not be removed. Nothing could be done, no assistance could be offered. She had been informed that she could not use magic to eat her food, either. Her job was to sit, observe, and sample food, along with celebrity chef, Mulia Mild.

It occured to Twilight that she hadn’t watched many cooking movies.

Pinkie Pie loved cooking movies, and Twilight, being a busy mare, seldom watched movies at all. Perhaps this needed to change. When she got home, she’d have Spike pencil some movie time into the schedule. Seville too, would have to change his schedule; time would have to be found because he was often in Canterlot, working. In fact, Seville was one of the few ponies as busy as Twilight, which presented a major source of difficulty when they were trying to get together.

Twilight wasn’t sure where Pinkie was at the moment; no doubt she was busy preparing for her final dish, whatever that dish might be. Seville was working, listening to the stories of others, their inspirations, their triumphs, and no doubt, their failures. Applejack, a helpful sort, had gone off to assist Bundt in the command center. A strange friendship of sorts had blossomed between the two of them and this filled Twilight with a relieved sense of happiness, because she liked when her friends were friends with one another.

“Majesty?”

Turning towards the sound, Twilight saw a timid-looking pegasus with apologetic eyes.

“You’re needed in the command center. Miss Buttercream sent me to fetch you. We have a crisis developing.”

“A crisis?” Twilight felt a hot prickle just as a painful tightness circled her ribs. “But I just fixed a crisis. Why is there another crisis already?”

The pegasus shrugged.

“That’s a rhetorical question.” Wincing, Twilight wished the tightness in her barrel would go away. “I’ll be right there. In fact, I’ll probably get there before you do. Would you like for me to take you with me?”

In response, the pegasus gave her head a frantic shake.

“Suit yourself,” Twilight said just before vanishing.

---

A pall had been cast over the command center and Twilight felt it right away when she materialised in the middle of the room. Applejack was mid-sentence and the apple farmer was spitting out a stream of peculiar, agricultural vulgarities that would have greatly expanded Sumac Apple’s vocabulary, had he been present. Ponies—some of which had worked in porn—appeared shocked by what Applejack was saying.

With Twilight’s sudden appearance, the room fell into gradual silence.

Seville was here. Why was Seville here, in the command center, and not out reporting? It seemed as though everypony was hesitant to tell her what was going on. Had somepony died? Was the bake-off cancelled again? Had an accident taken place that had left somepony maimed or mutilated? The parade of question marks continued through Twilight’s head while she waited for somepony to explain what was going on.

“The papers…” With these two words, Seville summed up the situation.

Grinding her teeth, Twilight thought about just how much she hated the papers.

“Uh, Twilight… some things got said. Not nice things. Some really bad things.” Applejack’s mood shifted from angry and profane to sad and apologetic. “On top of that, we’ve had three of our celebrity chefs up and quit on account of what was in the papers.”

“Things blew up in the worst way possible,” an earth pony mare said to Twilight. “You were accused of engineering a crisis and subsequent blowout here at the bake-off so you could drive Miss Blintz away and take over the bake-off for your own nefarious purposes. They’ve cooked up an awful narrative that includes everything from wasting taxes, to corruption, to favouritism. There are accusations that you did this so that you could help your friend Pinkie Pie win the bake-off. It pretty much paints everything in the worst possible light.”

“And three of our celebrity chefs don’t want the stink of scandal on them, so they left. They said this had become damaging to their public image and their careers, which are heavily dependent upon their public image.”

“Yeah. One said they never want to work with royalty again, ‘cause you’re all scandal-magnets.”

“And then,” Applejack muttered, her green eyes stormy, “there’s the accusations of tribalism on account of how you’re wasting taxpayer bits on an earth pony bake-off, which you seem to have nationalised, and everypony is speculating on the hows and the whys for what’s been done.”

“One story suggests that you’re exploiting earth ponies for entertainment purposes, kinda like how the unicorns used to do in those old minstrel shows.” Unable to look Twilight in the eye, the meek stallion dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Then there are the stories of responsible Crown spending and how we have so many things that need funding, but you spent a bloody fortune on a show for earth ponies that nopony cares about. That one hurt a bit. I’m a unicorn, and I care about what is happening here.” Standing up straight, the unicorn managed to look Twilight in the eye for all of about five seconds before averting her gaze. “As a unicorn, I am super embarrassed and ashamed for my tribe’s reactions to this… for a lot of things, actually. I don’t agree with anything my tribal representatives had to say in the papers.”

Twilight’s mouth opened, the room went quiet in anticipation of whatever might be said, but no words came forth. Not a one. With a click of her teeth, Twilight’s mouth closed and then she stood there, making a valiant effort to control her breathing. The backlash was far, far worse than she had anticipated. She had dared rear her head to do the right thing—and then this happened. Sweat poured down her neck and it felt as though searing hot iron was being pressed against her skin.

“Most of this stuff just isn’t true—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Seville snapped.

“How could the truth not matter?” the interrupted mare asked.

“The truth has never mattered. All that matters is what the public wants to believe. And with the press poisoning public opinion every day, the public is ready to believe anything that fits the established narrative. The wound left behind by Mister Mariner still festers.”

Seville sounded every bit as angry and anxious as Twilight felt.

“Twilight has her own school,” Seville continued, “and the media portrays it as a factory for indoctrination. Celestia too. Little foal-soldiers raised up to fanatically support their tyrannical rule so this oppression can continue unabated. This is the narrative created.”

“What a load of malarkey!” a stallion shouted.

“And yet ponies believe it to be true!” a unicorn mare hollered out in reply. “My father certainly believes in it. He insists that Mariner was a hero… a pony of the people. The Deliverer of the Earth Pony Tribe. He’s made a shrine to Mariner and does nothing but spout his ideals. My father and I don’t talk anymore. He insists it’s ‘cause I’m a tribalist, and he regrets having me as his daughter.”

A tendril of chaos wormed its way into Twilight’s heart.

“But… but… but you’re here helping us earth ponies with something truly near and dear to our hearts… how can you be a tribalist?” a confused earth pony stallion asked.

“I work very hard to bring us together, and my father works just as hard to tear us apart.”

“Enough!” Twilight shouted and her voice was like a thunderclap. “Can the show continue? Can we finish?”

“Our celebrity judges are deliberating right now,” Bundt replied, giving Twilight a fearless look in the eye. “I promised that we would respect their decision, no matter what it was. It would be awful of us to ruin their careers. If the rest of them wish to cut and run, I think the show will be over. So everything hinges upon their decision.”

Scowling, Twilight hoped that the worst wouldn’t happen, while preparing for it all the same. This might very well end, and it was outside of her control. It felt as though she was being roasted on a spit and she began feeling faint-headed. She stomped over to the water fountain, mashed the hoof-pedal down, and had herself a long, long drink. Not so much to slake her thirst, but more of a desperate effort to get cool because these anxiety hot flashes were downright unbearable.

“Twilight”—Seville’s voice was gritty with anger, or perhaps rage—“this problem can no longer be ignored. You and I both know how I feel about a free press, but this has gone on for far too long. Something has to be done and if Celestia won’t do it… maybe it is time for somepony else to step up and do something.”

“My father says that the first shots in the coming revolution will be a direct assault upon the press. The truth-tellers, as he calls them.”

Unable to respond, Twilight closed her eyes, pressed her head into the fountain, and allowed the cold water to splash against her face. It was cold, but not cold enough to do anything about the sensation of imminent spontaneous combustion. When her face was soaked, she pushed her head in a little further and allowed the frigid water to drench her ears. When Twilight pulled her sopping wet head out of the fountain and stood dripping on the floor, she heard a familiar voice speaking.

“We’ve had our discussion and we’re staying. Gustave just wants to go back to sorting out which dish gets which recognition.”

“I think I speak for everypony when I say that we’re all very appreciative of your choice,” Bundt said to Arroz.

“We’re not making anything better by quitting. Gustave believes in what Princess Twilight is doing… and I suppose I do too. Anyhow, we have a lot of sorting out to do.”

Relieved, Twilight heaved a sigh while Arroz Amandine trotted off back down the hall. For now, the worst possible outcome to this crisis had been averted. The show would go on. But that wasn’t to say that everything was fine and good, no. Twilight, raw from everything that had happened, still had a show to run. She had no time to wallow in her own misery, to deal with her own anxiety. For now, all she could do was grin and bear it. To stuff it all down inside and keep going.

There was still a lot of princessing left to do.

Author's Note:

Why, it's enough to drive a princess to drink.

Comments

[Olden Bronie]

Indeed! I'm just glad Twilight doesn't have any alcohol. An inibriated, enraged Alicorn would not be a pleasant site or something to trifle with!

[Typist Gray]

Huh. So I supposed this means all the bathrooms in the castles have been double reinforced. I'll bet Twilight's initial ascension led to some embarrassing renovations of her old tree-brary.

One said they never want to work with royalty again, ‘cause you’re all scandal-magnets.”

That's not exactly untrue.
Sounds disgustingly reflective of real life.
I'm reminded of that episode with Rara where Twilight recorded the evil manager spilling his plans and projected it onto the big screen for all to see. Assuming that was based on memory, couldn't something similar be done here with her conversations with the cunt? I mean, there's the counter argument that she's just showing what she thinks happened, but it's still a rebuke. Use the allied pres to give her honest and unabridged take on what's been going on behind the scenes. Like our world's alternate media, it'll find an audience.

[Wild Zontars]

The woodspony sighed and stared at his roughened hoof, worn from contact with ax-haft and sword-hilt. Conan reached his long foreleg for the wine-jug. The forester stared at him, comparing him with the ponies about them, the ponies who had died along the lost river, comparing him with those other wild ponies over that river. Conan did not seem aware of his gaze.

“Barbarism is the natural state of ponykind,” the borderer said, still staring somberly at the Clydesdale. “Civilization is unnatural. It is a whim of circumstance. And barbarism must always ultimately triumph.”

[kudzuhaiku]

9149605

Flurry’s wing slapped Shining Armor so hard that it left his ears ringing, and he almost dropped her into the toilet. Her entire body went rigid, her legs kicked out, and with a pitiful yeowl, she retched yet again, vomiting up the contents of her stomach with enough force that it bounced up out of the toilet bowl.

Everything that alicorns did was extraordinary, from sneezing, to vomiting.

Shining Armor knew why this was happening, because this always happened. Little Flurry Heart would go swimming in the sea and without fail, she would always swallow as much seawater as equinely possible. And this—this—was the result. Somehow, this part of the trip was always forgotten about, until it happened again, and then the memories would all come back in a terrible flood, just like right now. Flurry would be a miserable mess tomorrow, and as for the fun planned for tonight?

Well, that was called off.

The stink of failure smelled a lot like vomit and Shining Armor thought about what a terrible parent he was. How could he forget? Like an idiot, he had let Flurry gorge herself at dinner, eating salad, all kinds of tropical treats, and frozen sorbet. He had even seen her coming out of the sea, covered in seaweed, and somehow, he had forgotten. This was the pinnacle of parental failure, the crowning achievement of bad daddyism.

Flurry let out a gurgling croak and hot, steaming chunks of poorly chewed food spattered everywhere but in the toilet bowl. She choked for a moment, gagged, and when she didn’t breathe, Shining Armor began to panic. But Flurry cleared her nostrils with a mighty snort and shot salad greens mixed with tropical rainbow sorbet onto the ceiling.

No doubt, amnesia would claim this moment too, because it was too horrible to remember. Soon enough, everything would come shooting out of Flurry’s other end too, and this would be a long night indeed. And of course, all of this rested on his back, because a sick Flurry was a Flurry that wanted her daddy—not her mommy.

While many might view Cadance as an alicorn or a goddess figure worthy of worship, Shining Armor knew her as a mare. His odd views were further reinforced by his daughters, alicorns both of them, alicorns that he had fathered. A sense of reverence and being a good parent were incompatible, which left him with the most peculiar view of alicorns; they were ponies. At some point, Shining Armor had become completely detached from the natural reverence that most ponies had for alicorns. He had changed alicorn diapers, wiped snotty alicorn noses, cleaned poopy alicorn behinds, he had scrubbed up alicorn puke puddles—Shining Armor was a pony assailed by the evidence that alicorns were just ponies and was now unphased by their resplendent majesty.

Alicorns were ponies, but everything about them was simply better. Bigger. Stronger. Anything a normal pony did an alicorn pony did better by a magnitude, and there were a great many things that a normal pony did in their life that nopony gave much thought about that an alicorn also did—but in a far more impressive manner. Normal ponies sneezed; alicorn ponies leveled small hamlets and caused construction crises with their facial explosions. Regular ponies orgasmed; alicorns caused seismic anomalies and tectonic upheaval while making ridiculous faces. A common pony broke wind; an alicorn caused indoor hurricanes and unsecured furniture might be thrown about the room.

Shining Armor had seen it all, borne witness to it, and watched the sheer existential horror of it. Things had to be made alicorn proofed. Furniture had to be bigger, stronger, and reinforced. Toilets had to be made to a ridiculous standard so they wouldn’t shatter into ceramic dust from thunderous blasts of flatulence. Beds had to be constructed in the same manner as bunkers, otherwise they wouldn’t endure even a moment of enthusiastic alicorn lovemaking. The world at large was simply not durable enough for alicorns, which constituted a crisis of sorts; alicorn numbers were on the rise and were only expected to grow.

The world was ill-prepared for this eventuality.

Only the bravest, most foolhardy of ponies attempted to woo alicorns, an act which most psychiatrists treated as evidence of a mental disorder. Why, initiating genital-to-genital contact was a textbook act of madness, an act fraught with danger, a potential act of destructive self-harm. Little ponies were just that—little ponies—and even the bravest, boldest, and most foolhardy among them were still little ponies.

Shining Armor had sent the psychiatrists scrambling away from him with but one bellow.

[Arkonfleight]

And now I have this absurd image of Shining and/or some doctors with a giant catcher's mitt about ten yards away from a laboring Cadance.

[Typist Gray]

9149625
Ah, good times.

[tirilee]

Hmmm ... time for some good old flogging on the town square ....

[kudzuhaiku]

9149708

[MLP_RedRum]

along with celebrity chef, Mulia Mild

[kudzuhaiku]

9149752
http://mlp.wikia.com/wiki/Mulia_Mild

vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/mlp/images/0/06/Mulia_Mild_S2E24_thumb.png/revision/latest?cb=20120518222112

Mulia Mild is a female mule and a baker who appears in MMMystery on the Friendship Express and Equestria Games. Her name and appearance are references to real-life chef Julia Child, the same basis as S06E12 Unnamed Unicorn Mare #5. The fact that mousse is French in origin may also be a reference, as Julia Child is known for popularizing French cuisine in America.

[MLP_RedRum]

9149762
Well then. I apologize for making the face at you, and will forward it to the MLP writing team immediately.

[tirilee]

9149714

[xonxt]

And that's kinda why I hate the free press. What you just did there is very real. Hyperbolised and over-exaggerated. But real.
The matter of freedom-of-speech and how much of it should be allowed is a tough one.

[duithy]

Wasn’t there a big to do about factual reporting and criminal liability back in swans

[kudzuhaiku]

9149983
Yes.

Yes there was.

Very similar, but also very different circumstances. False witness.

[duithy]

9149990
I am just thinking back to gosling saying reporters should live in fear of false reporting. It struck me there were larger reforms. Also not to try to argu but if that are reporting plots and conspiracies (not all of them are) that would require a a witness of some kind even if it’s just the reporter would it not?

[kudzuhaiku]

9150009
In this instance, it is more of unfounded claims vs paying somebody to lie and bear false witness.

The reforms have been slow. Painfully slow.

This has actually made the press far more hostile and willing to push back through means that are 'allowed.'

[GIGA-XISBASS]

9149605
THIS. Someone should have everypony as well get a lawyer for a class action lawsuit against Blintz and possibly the newspaper that printed those lies. Pretty sure that violates a serious law on slander among other things.

[Snowliasion]

Who's a silly pony? You're a silly pony. Who is? You is! Applejack. 🎶

[kudzuhaiku]

9150100
Who said Blintz is responsible?

[GIGA-XISBASS]

9150649
Didn't it state in the story or hint at at least when they got to reading the paper that was Blintz who told the paper all these lies as a screw you to Twilight? That would make her as much at fault as the newspaper company or just as involved and in just as much hot water as it were when the truth gets out if she was one of the ponies spreading lies to them.

Frankly I wouldn't be surprised or put it past her if she did have something to do with this. After all who else there would have knowledge of what actually went down and would intentionally want to twist things around in Blintz's benefit?

[kudzuhaiku]

9150829
I think you need to re-read the chapter.

Your mind is filling in details that don't exist.

[GIGA-XISBASS]

9150903
Fair enough.

[Animak]

I can't wait until spoiler shows up and spoiler gives spoiler the spoiler and makes spoiler bananas

[CommanderBigMac]

Release the Wardens

[HappyMuffin]

So in addition to the themes of racism, ableism, automation, and tradition we're also getting a good helping of fake news as well.

Man if you can figure out a way to solve the problems with any of that stuff without Twi going full authoritarian, you are a genius

[kudzuhaiku]

9151358
Funnily enough, society dealt with these very same issues way back in the Victorian Era, the Edwardian Era, and the rise of the American Robber Barons.

Societal shifts go in cycles. Equestria just so happens to be in the beginning of a major societal shift that Twilight herself sort of created.

[Typist Gray]

9150100
Agreed.

[kajisora]

9149625

A common pony broke wind; an alicorn caused indoor hurricanes and unsecured furniture might be thrown about the room.

A common pony breaks wind.
An alicorn's wind breaks.

[Aurora Dimmet]

Frankly, so far these ponies seem to NEED the authoritarian iron hoof. In the real world, the people are the country and what they want is the will of the country. This is true when the people are intelligent enough, educated enough, and lightly biased enough to make good, healthy decisions.

Herd-creature instinct is being played up to control the masses here, against the Crown. They all need to be brought to heel, at this point.

[harts fire]

we need a 100% truth spell on all of the press around the world and a keep all of the government out of it spell.

but a spell like that would put 99% of all the press around the world out of business.