10. Night Deposit
The Substitute Librarian
Night Deposit
Winter was at least honest about itself. Snow piled everywhere meant ice underhoof, while icicles hanging from eaves told everypony to watch where they were going, and although the season had disagreeable elements, it was balanced by the inevitable Hearth’s Warming Sales.
The week after Nightmare Night was the most deceitful time of the calendar. An evil, cruel time with damp breezes hovering just above or below freezing, depending on how the pegasi had the clouds stacked, little dribblets of sleet or drizzle down the back of the neck at unexpected times, and soggy leaves that dampened hocks and stuck in the frogs of only one hoof, leaving you lopsided if you were foolish enough to walk through a pile of them. Boots did not help, because the damp fragments of leaves inevitably worked their way in through the open tops, forming an indescribable mash in the bottom that squished with every step, and dried into an unremovable paste when you came inside.
It was the one time of year where Emerald would have been perfectly glad to spend sitting by the fireplace at home, sipping cocoa, and catching up on his perpetual reading homework for his college classes, instead of…
“Are you getting off the train, sir?”
“What?” Emerald looked over his shoulder at the mustached conductor, then back out at the Ponyville train station. “Oh, just thinking. I’m supposed to be covering the library for a few days, and—”
“Then off you go,” said the old stallion, giving him a push. “We’ve got a schedule. And keep an eye out. It’s Flitter weather.”
“Flitter—?” Emerald turned around on the train platform, only to have the train door slide shut nearly on his tail and the train start to move almost immediately. It did seem to be a warning, although ‘Flitter’ did not show up on the weather schedule posted on the side of the station.
His first step out from under the station’s roof made the warning abruptly obvious.
“Oops,” sounded a female voice from above, in the same vague direction that the brief deluge of slush had just fallen. “Sorry.”
Whatever pegasus had just dumped a cloud on him certainly did not sound sorry. The laughter only drove the point in deeper.
“That’s fine,” he called up into the cloud cover. “Accidents do happen, after—”
The second cloud full of slush caught him right in the face.
* * *
“Good morning, Madam Mayor.” Emerald stood in the center of her office and dripped, because that seemed at first glance to be the best position to transmit his ire. Apparently, such ire had been directed at the mayor before in far greater measure, with real threats, and she was shrugging it off much like Emerald’s rain slicker was supposed to likewise shed rain. A long, cold thread of growing ice down both sides of his neck proved that particular selling point from Barneigh’s was less than honest.
“Flitter weather,” said the mayor, who had not stopped writing. “I see you got my letter?”
“Three day gig, same pay as the first time,” said Emerald. “Twilight Sparkle left on whatever she does for Princess Celestia, I presume?”
“Personal appearance in Manehattan, I believe.” The mayor finished writing and passed the sheaf of papers across the desk. “Standard contract from the town, your complaint to the weather patrol about Flitter, and insurance waiver. Sign, please.”
He read first, of course, while dripping, of course again. Once he was certain there were no traps or matrimonial entanglements in the contract, he took a well-gnawed quill out of his vest and signed at the bottom, then pushed the damp papers back across the desk. “I take it nothing’s going to happen with the weather patrol?”
“No,” said the mayor. She passed over a spellkey and a thick library procedures folder. “At least Rainbow Dash left with Miss Sparkle also.”
“It’s probably drier in Manehattan. Thank you very much, Madam Mayor. I’ll see you in three days.”
“Just a moment.” The mayor held up a hoof. “There have been some comments from the townsponies. They do not think it is very appropriate for you to be spending your nights in Miss Sparkle’s bed.”
“That’s why I sleep on the couch,” said Emerald.
“And this did not make it to the newspaper, but I understand that she requested your arrest.”
“A minor issue, quickly resolved at the police station,” continued Emerald. “Which you had to have known on my last visit, or you never would have allowed me to conduct the story reading at the library with the town foals.”
“I know, but…” The mayor bit her bottom lip. “Is the library really haunted?”
Now that was worth some thought before responding. And some more information. “Why?”
“Well… I’ve been over at the library on a few evenings to discuss things with Twilight, and there have been—” Mayor Mare stopped, but did add, “I didn’t want to bring it up with Twilight. She might try to answer the question, and we only have one library.”
“I assure you, Madam Mayor, if I find a ghost over at the library, you will be the first to hear. I’ll scream,” he clarified. “Loudly.”
* * *
Really, after trying to dodge soggy clouds all the way from the Town Hall to the library, Emerald was not thinking very well or in a stable mood. Particularly since he had not dodged all of the slush, and he was starting to feel a tickle in the back of his throat. Whoever Flitter was, she deserved a good kick in the teeth. And another kick or two for the Barneigh’s designer who made his rain coat with a detachable hood, which worked just fine as a slush collector and funnel, trapping every frigid drop against his neck.
At least the spellkey had worked, once he had galloped to the library door with it clenched in his teeth and tapped it against the wards. The big oak tree felt welcome as Emerald stepped inside and turned on the lighting devices. That is Emerald felt welcome walking through the door, not that the tree felt anything. Unless it could read the look of deep thoughts on his face, which was unlikely, since it was a tree, and not his home.
The really odd thing about today so far was the way that the library felt like his home, much like a bird who had traveled away for the season coming back to a comfortable nest. It was not, of course. The library could never be his home unless Twilight Sparkle were never to return, which to be honest, was an outcome that neither of them wanted.
Neither as in Emerald and the tree, of course. And probably Twilight Sparkle.
“I just wanted to check,” he announced at the top of his lungs while standing in the entranceway, “since I just got here, and I am soaked to the skin. I’m going to get naked and dry myself off, so if there are any other ponies here, look somewhere else for a few minutes. Thank you.”
After making sure the library’s front door was closed and the security spells engaged, Emerald vanished into the bathroom, only emerging when he had been thoroughly dried to the point where he had fluffed up to about twice his size.
“I hate shedding season,” he mused, looking at how the thick clumps of scroungy green hairs on the pristine white towels mixed in with a number of shorter purple hairs. They made an intricate collage of artistic patterns together, although standing there and musing about his latest artwork was not getting him one step closer to opening the library. After all, his librarian job was the whole reason he slogged here in the first place.
At least his warm vest had stayed mostly dry, and his hat could be wrung out over the sink, so after hanging the dripping rain slicker on the shower nozzle, Emerald put on his most polite smile and flipped the ‘Open’ sign. A quick peek out the window revealed no wet pony patrons standing in line outside, complaining about the late start. This was a good thing, because it gave him time to drag his damp saddlebag over to the heavy librarian desk and begin sorting through his own portable library.
Goals were a good thing to have. His own goals, of course. Emerald always had significant issues when other ponies tried to tell him what to do. It made no end of little notes to his parents from schoolteachers while he was growing up, and even recently in college from certain frustrated professors. In this case, the town’s goal of having somepony watch the library while the librarian was off doing ‘Very Important Pony’ stuff matched with his own goal of avoiding a long weekend at home, dodging questions about any ‘proper’ unicorn mares he might have met at school, fallen in love with, and become engaged to marry since the last week when he had denied such at the family dinner table.
Which reminded him briefly of Officer Grace of the Canterlot police, before putting the thought behind him. That particular incident would only need to be explained to his parents (or anypony else) in the unlikely event the attractive older mare was unable to find a suitable match among her own peer group, and if she followed the rules of their deal, there had to be somepony suitable she would encounter in the course of a year of dating.
And of course there was always the option of running away to the griffon nation of Protocera if that scheme failed.
Today’s goal was to get through today, sitting quietly at the librarian desk and dealing with the bibliographic desires of the quiet pony town while working on his school project during free periods.
Tomorrow’s goal was much the same.
The next day’s list included ‘Get out of town before Twilight Sparkle returns on the evening train.’ A nice, brisk hike up the side of Mount Canter would make up for his relative inactivity, and would ensure he would not accidentally meet the young mare at the train station, get introduced, tell his parents about their meeting, have them work behind his back to set up an arranged marriage, and wind up spending the rest of his life as the not-so-important spouse of a famous national hero who met with princesses on a regular basis.
He shuddered while arranging his notecards and books on the table for more studying. A terrible fate indeed. At least he had some control over his life now. And the last time he had been in the same room as Princess Celestia… No, he would rather not think about that. Ever.
Flitter weather thankfully discouraged library visitation, allowing Emerald to continue getting the last of his homework cards marked and categorized. There were a few patrons who showed up and dripped their way around the bookshelves, although most of them made at least a token attempt at wiping off the worst of the wet with the towel he put at the entrance. The old towel that really was threadbare enough not to steal…
Which of course somepony promptly did. And then somepony else stole the replacement towel when the first one vanished. After that, he just left the incoming patrons drip.
One of the more interesting patrons was an elderly pony, who came into the library and immediately ducked behind a bookcase. Then over the course of about an hour, he proceeded to work his way around the shelves like some sort of slow-moving secret agent, ducking and dodging with frequent peeks around Emerald until, obviously disappointed at a lack of real librarian in the library, he trudged back out into the mid-morning drizzle.
“And thus does the Twilight Sparkle Fan Club adjourn for the day,” murmured Emerald under his breath, “with a lack of their fearless leader and a need for brunch.” He turned over another notecard and put a weight on his reference book to keep that particular griffon dynasty on top. “Looks like I have enough time to take a break. Wonder what the Cafe de Librarian’s Icebox has on the menu.”
No sooner had he moved to stand up than the front door of the library banged open and three small fillies stormed inside, or at least they looked vaguely like fillies under the thick coat of mud, leaves, more mud, twigs, and odd bits of straw. The few scattered library patrons scattered to the far corners of the bookshelves as Emerald flung himself forward, managing to get in front of their mud-slowed rush for one of Twilight Sparkle’s precious treasures.
“Stop!” he shouted, and braced himself for impact, which was cushioned by their slower speed and thick covering of mud. “You can’t come into the library like that! Go home and take a bath!”
“But mah sister will clobber me if I track mud in the house like this!” exclaimed the heftier of the trio, who had a sodden bow peeking forlornly through the dirt.
“My sister will… I don’t know!” wailed the second mudball, who had a point sticking out in front and a familiar voice, so she had to be Sweetie Belle.
Three sets of mournful eyes looked up at Emerald, triggering memories of his own happy romps through the mud puddles of Canterlot as a foal, and subsequent laundering at the hooves of his mother. Nopony really deserved to be scrubbed that hard at that young of an age, and the relative unfairness of the situation grated on his conscience. Particularly since there was a simple solution much closer.
“You know,” he said with a tap of one hoof against his chin, “Twilight Sparkle’s written procedures specify that the library bathroom may be used for patron’s hygiene.”
“You want us to wash up in the sink?” said the mud-laden pegasus, who was barely identifiable as such by the stubby tips of feathers sticking out from her sides.
“I don’t recall her written procedures saying anything about what portions of the bathroom are off-limits other than the locked cabinet,” said Emerald slowly. “And there’s a bathtub in there.”
All three of them hesitated, which was a good sign. “Twilight’s never let us use the tub before,” said Sweetie Belle.
“If you’re careful, and don’t make a mess, she’ll never know,” said Emerald. “I’ll even get out the good towels.” It was a fairly inconsequential promise, since the library’s single scroungy old towel was gone, and the only ones left locked in the cabinet were all fluffy and foal-friendly.
Once he had gotten the three balls of mud herded into the bathroom, Emerald removed a few of the towels out of the cabinet, along with a fairly stingy collection of mane shampoo and conditioner, then closed the cabinet door. “I’m trusting you three in here,” he said in his most sincere voice despite his deep concern. “Scrub up, dry off, and clean up. I’ll go mop up your muddy trail and put a bucket in front of the door so you’re not disturbed.”
* * *
It was a common thing for young noblestallions from his college frat to make a pass at a waitress in a bar in order to spirit them away at the end of the night for an evening of personal entertainment. Emerald had never wanted to wave his family ties around for the dating scene, particularly since some mares grew cat-like claws at the mere whiff of a House name, and promptly wanted to climb the family tree in search of a nest. It was far more productive to be himself, a helpful, working pony who despised lounging around without some constructive activity to keep him busy, which in turn led him to find out how much young waitresses appreciated some help around closing time…
It was a secret he kept from his fraternity brothers. They would not have been able or willing to duplicate it anyway. Besides, they probably did not even know which end of a mop to use on the floor. Emerald had always considered it a point of pride that he did, and was skilled in the use of such, despite discouragement from his parents and some private scolding from the household staff whenever he was discovered doing their jobs.
Leaving the muddy hoofprints of those three little menaces until tomorrow would be foolish. Wet mud had an aggressive attitude and liked to explore its environment as it turned into dirt, leaving little granules and nodes of sand in the most uncomfortable places. Thankfully, there was a mop and bucket in the closet, and with careful consideration, the used mop water could be dumped around the base of the library tree as his contribution towards that long-awaited branch library expansion project.
It was a terrible pun, but kept his mind busy while mopping.
The exercise kept him active and was probably good for him, so Emerald did not complain while mopping into every corner and nook of the first floor, under shelves, and along baseboards. It was probably like a spa visit for the creaky old oak tree, with a good scrubbing to scratch all of the dusty floorboards and get all the gunk out from between its roots before settling down for a long winter snooze. A sleeping tree would also not be doing vegetative schemes to mate up its librarian with a visiting education student, so there was plenty of incentive for Emerald to do a good job.
drip
And once he had finished with most of the mud, he discovered a few cold puddles on the floor where cracks in the leafy roof were letting inside a little of the outside. It did not look too serious at first, and a quick pass through the ground floor showed a half-dozen rings in the oak flooring where buckets normally resided during such precipitation events.
drip, drip
So after distributing the buckets (filed under ‘B’ in the closet) to their appropriate places, he headed upstairs where another chill puddle of water made itself known to his just-getting-to-be-warm-again hooves.
“Starting to wonder why they haven’t torn this leaky thing down yet,” he grumbled while returning downstairs for the mop bucket. This much exercise only showed where his clammy vest had been soaked more than he expected, but taking it off would give him a terrible chill far worse than the brief tremors that made his sides tremble between short suppressed coughs.
Nothing seemed to be dripping directly on the bookshelves, which was probably wise of the library oak tree, because Twilight Sparkle did not seem to be the forgiving type when it came to her books. Likewise, there were no leaks inside her bedroom, which he had to check just in case. Unexpectedly, there were library books in her private room, packed just as tight as the rest of the shelves and organized by whatever strange ordering that the librarian had determined right before she left.
It was so tempting to bring all of his homework into the librarian’s dry and warmer room, but to spread out his project on the floor, he would have to move throw rugs and the bed, scoot her private desk into the far corner… No, he had too much work to do before even thinking about that. Apparently, there were some young library patrons who liked to use the librarian’s bedchambers as a romantic rendezvous, because he met a giggling couple on his way out, and it took a stern look and a few sharp words to convince them to go elsewhere.
I’m turning into my father. Or a real librarian. Not sure what’s worse.
Of course there were fresh puddles to mop on the main floor, patrons needing help with checking out books, and new tasks that kept him from grabbing lunch or checking on the trio of foals monopolizing the library bathroom.
As time rolled past noon, freeing up the bathroom took on new urgency. Particularly when he noticed water begin to trickle out from under the door.
“Hey, what’s going on in—”
Soap suds washed past his ankles when the door was opened, along with three suds-covered fillies who promptly launched into well-practiced excuses. It was going to take a lot more than words to clean up the waterlogged floor, made only worse when Sweetie Belle spotted the mop and decided to use her spluttering magic to ‘help.’
Shouting ensued.
Dripping wet ponies ran all over the library, leaving trails of watery suds.
By the time Emerald had chased them outside, there was more water on the floors than when he had started, but at least the drizzle from outside had tapered off into a damp, cold fog, and the dripping from the ceiling had quit.
“How?” he muttered to himself by the time he got back to the bathroom and took in the waves of soap suds, the open cabinet that had been stripped of dry towels, empty bottles of shampoo and conditioner scattered around the soggy floor, and a lone yellow rubber duck bobbing in the middle of the destruction.
“Cutie Mark Crusaders,” said one of the library patrons. “We thought you knew.”
* * *
Research was effective on more than college assignments. By the time Emerald flipped the ‘Closed’ sign on the library, he knew enough about the Cutie Mark Crusaders to know their record put his own youthful experience to shame. Worse, they had only been active in their quests for a few months, and yet had left a trail of destruction wide enough that every library patron would respond to a subtle question about them with the same phrase.
“Well, I shouldn’t tell you, but one time…”
Their reputation was bad enough that Emerald was thinking maybe surviving his first visit and training session for Sweetie Belle was a fluke, and that perhaps Chief Miranda Rights had been watching her instead of him for whatever might blow up or get knocked down during unicorn magic training.
The bathroom was proof enough of that. Every single towel dripped with suds to the point he just gave up and threw them all into the empty tub, and the oak flooring had soaked up enough water he was not sure if it would dry out by Twilight Sparkle’s return, particularly since the library heater still wheezed and groaned more than worked.
The library tree obviously did not like having a wet bathroom. Little individual drips followed him around on his rounds, catching him on the back of the neck or the tip of the nose when he least expected it. It even kept happening after the library had been closed and Emerald heaved his saddlebags up on the hefty librarian desk.
“You want another mopping?” he asked, looking up at the damp ceiling. “An apology scrub, with a dab of floor wax perhaps? Because I can’t study with wet books, and I’ve got a lot of work to do before Twilight comes back.
The tree responded with another drip, right in the middle of the desk.
“Obvious tree is obvious,” he muttered, getting up and heading for the mop bucket. “Just glad the library is closed or the whole town would think I’m crazy.”
It took quite some time to complete another full mopping of the library, from top to bottom, with special attention paid to where the tree would dribble a few drops as if to indicate a portion of the floor that itched and needed extra scrubbing. It left him both damp and sweaty enough to get a washcloth out of the mess and take a quick swipe or two to clean his face before returning to his homework.
Which was still damp enough he did not want to get it out of the saddlebags.
The situation was worthy of a good stewing sulk while he went back and nudged the library heater in the forlorn hope it would cough up a few more thaums of thermal energy. In theory, it was a dual-mode machine, with the unicorn device section of the mechanism warming the air while the pegasus magic spread it around the residence. It was supposed to at least keep the kitchenette and upstairs bedroom wear-your-vest chilly, which would work so much better if the vest in question were not still damp, and the air blowing out of the heater vents barely tepid.
“If I were a unicorn,” he muttered, looking at the far-too-late time on the library clock, “I could get dry. I could patch the leaks in the tree. I could work on my homework without being dripped on. I could teach young students without wearing a hat.”
He paused at the sound of a small noise, walked over to the library’s front door, and opened it.
In the darkness, a dripping Scootaloo looked back at him.
There was a fairly long pause.
“Library’s closed,” said Emerald.
“I left something here,” said Scootaloo rather quickly.
Emerald raised one eyebrow. “That is the worst excuse I’ve ever heard, and I live in a college fraternity.”
After a moment of obvious thought, Scootaloo tentatively said, “My parents aren’t home yet, and I wanted someplace to stay dry until they get back.”
“Better.” Emerald stepped to one side on his way to the bathroom to retrieve some of the damp towels “Come on in. I’m not going to make you stand outside in the drizzle all night.”
Scootaloo scurried inside and closed the door.
“Good idea,” said Emerald, who had scooped the driest towel off the dripping heap in the bathtub. “Otherwise some of the cold, damp air might escape into the town.”
Although Scootaloo looked puzzled, she dried off with the damp towel, only wincing slightly when Emerald produced a wet washcloth and scrubbed behind her ears.
“Seriously, you soaked the whole bathroom, you’ve been out in the wet all day, and you still have dirt behind these ears. And no, I don’t think there’s a Mark for that. Unless you’re a seapony, and they’re a myth.”
“How do you know they’re a myth?”
It was a fair question, and caught Emerald off-guard. After all, he had considered Ursa Minors to be myths until Chief Rights had told him about Ponyville’s historic nocturnal visitor. He left the washcloth for Scootaloo to continue her ineffectual ear-cleaning while he headed for the kitchenette.
“Good point,” he called over his shoulder. “Always question what others tell you. I was just making dinner, so would you like a snack while waiting? We have—” he opened the icebox door “—apples.”
“That’s good news,” said Scootaloo out in the main room.
“That’s also the bad news.” He poked around in the icebox before adding, “Or we could have ice cubes.”
“Apples are good.” Scootaloo came trotting into the kitchenette and dropped the washcloth behind her.
Emerald dumped a dozen chilly apples on the small kitchenette table before scooping up the used washcloth and heading back to the bathroom. It was not a sign of obsessive-compulsive behavior, but the discipline of growing up in his home. He had an excuse. Twilight Sparkle… most probably had a similar excuse, writ large.
I am never going to meet her family. Ever. Our parents might actually get along.
There were a few small driblets of water across the library main floor from leftover drips and some mop water, although the couch seemed dry enough for Scootaloo to nap on while waiting on her parents. He grabbed the damp towel from the middle of the floor and made a quick run around the library, top and bottom, just to catch any last puddles before eating. Once he had the damp-er towel thrown into the tub, he headed back into the kitchenette where Scootaloo had both cheeks full of chewed apples like some feathered hamster.
Harsh, father-like words were warranted, dealing with table manners and just exactly how a guest should behave. Emerald would rather die than say those words right now, mostly because he had not eaten anything all day. He picked up an apple instead and went to work on it silently.
The dampness from the miserable day still saturated his thick winter coat, giving their delayed dinner a chilly overtone, made worse when the young filly asked, “What does your father do, Mister Emerald?”
“Important things.” Emerald waved a hoof in the general direction of Canterlot. “Things he thinks are important, that is. I want to teach young unicorns their first magic. That’s what I think is important. We have a certain… conflict about such things. What does your father do, Scootaloo?”
“He’s an explorer!” The last time Emerald had seen somepony’s face light up like this, she had just gotten her cutie mark. The little pegasus fairly hovered at the table with an excited buzz of wings and a rapid flood of words about how her father was such an amazing pony. It just squelched whatever tiny sparks of pleasure Emerald had left after such a miserable day, but he nodded in the appropriate places of the one-way conversation, and found an opportunity to go back to his pending homework once he had finished what was left of the apple.
This time, he carried his saddlebags up to Twilight Sparkle’s dry bedroom and plunked them down. He had too much homework left to mince around with working in the damp downstairs. Notecards to correct, dates to check, the notorious griffon habit of changing small parts of their names as they accumulated glory or discredit, it did not make for easy facts with sharp edges.
As the nighttime study session wore on, the Griffonant numbers and letters began to blur together, and the chill of the evening had given him a low shiver up the flanks. It was an obvious sign he needed a break, so Emerald shook his head and put the notecards to one side.
The kitchen downstairs was empty of Scootaloo, and only had a few stems of the apples, so at least the young filly could clean up after herself if the trash was edible. The front door was closed and the wards engaged, the bathroom about as clean as it was going to get until he could find a laundromat, and the couch… had a damp spot on the ceiling above it, as if the library was just waiting for him to fall asleep.
“I can’t even outsmart a matchmaking tree,” muttered Emerald to himself while picking up a couch cushion and the mostly dry throw as a blanket. “Chasing me into her bed like this. Dirty minded oaks.”
He trudged upstairs, put out the lights behind him, unbuttoned his vest and put it on the chair to dry…
Then slid under Twilight Sparkle’s bed on the repurposed couch cushion. There were certain advantages of a naturally shaggy coat in a chilly environment, after all. After making himself comfortable in the narrow space, Emerald wrapped up in the thin blanket, put his head down, and muttered quietly to himself.
“If she comes home early, I’m never going to be able to explain this.”
Stats
Page generated in 0.039 seconds
Total duration
747 users online
1,041,880 hits today, 2,054,621 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
That tree is determined to pollinate. Four chapter arc upcoming although the fourth will be quite short.
Is it creepier to sleep under her bed?
Poor Emerald he doth not know how dangerously he is living right now
Thank you for the update!
You posted your blog saying that new Substitute Librarian chapters would go up monday and I was really excited. I just refreshed my feed, saw the new chapter, and went "holy crap it's monday! that's awesome, new chapter!"
Hmm, I wonder if a Library sized ghost detector is possible, and more concerning, what the insurance rates will be after Twilight tries to find out.
Duckie! And a magical one at that, having being able to survive the Cutie Mark Crusaders.
Shirley liked the town so much she comes back every now and then at night, have a nosh on the bins, scritch herself on the trees in the park and have a good soak in the lake.
Good start to the new arc. :)
If a tree wants to do something, it's best to go through with it. This ranges from the simple act of getting to know a young made to the destruction of Isengard.
Protocera.
The discovery of Protoceratops fossils by ancient peoples may be the origin of the griffon myth.
edible?
10262411
Cool! I look forward to it.
Bold assumption. For all he knows, it will be able to focus fully on that particular plan.
Acorn-based reproduction leads to a patient mindset with a natural predilection for long-term planning.
Another fine installment, with Emerald learning some key lessons about Ponyville. Not that he'll need them. Certainly not because of certain unicorns currently out of town on business.
Drips are bad enough, the thing he really should be worried about is strange rapidly growing protruberances forming in the floor and exuding a suprising amount of sap.
10264490 Pod-ponies, ick.
10264170 10263940 He hasn't even thought that the tree might appreciate his efforts, and just be trying whatever it can think of to keep him there.
10264057 Fixed Edible (how did I get that weird spelling in there) but not sure on Proctura. (edit:fixed)
10263828 He *thinks* he's in the safest place on the world right now, because it's the only place he can be absolutely sure Twilight Sparkle is *not* present. He just doesn't quite realize yet that *other* creatures expect Twilight to be there too, and will keep showing to look for her.
Rarity: "Twilight Sparkle, I expected romance novels under your bed, not a romance!"
10264648
Glossary Update: the vocabulary of the Continuum
10264648
"Nobody cares for the woods anymore"
Come to think of it, has anyone ever come across Ents in the Everfree Forest and survived to tell about it?
In which Emerald becomes the monster under the bed.
I enjoyed this chapter.
It had me smiling while I waited at the bus stop
Love this chapter
10263802
It depends
Is she sleeping on top?
The Library Tree is both cold and leaky? Truly this is the darkest of timelines.
(That being said, I have a great deal of trouble seeing Twilight putting up with it. Damp is terrible for books).
I assume in this universe Twilight Velvet is still his old science teacher and thus he has already met one of Twi's parents?
Speaking of, I never thought about it before, but are "thaums" Joules or BTUs?
10267242
Yes.
And also sometimes Newtons.
Fig Newtons, that is.
Because magic is freaking weird, yo.
A certain baron would have something to say about that.
Pfft, and people think I don't pay attention;
I do, but only selectively.
10263802 10266002 FYI: Remember that question in about a year when I get to more chapters.
In short, if he slept *on* the bed, he would leave long green hairs behind, and he would never (without magic) be able to make the bed the same way as Twilight Sparkle {see Bounce Test by Estee) After all, his whole goal is to complete each librarysitting session without getting noticed by Twilight. Ninja Librarian. (for a certain value of Ninja, I suppose)