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Stupid Bet1,747 words
Observations1,866 words
Twilight Van Sparkle's Starry Lake2,513 words
Appledew Plateau2,290 words
Pinkie Promises...2,459 words
Spa Day2,205 words
Rainbow, Rainbow Dash2,013 words
Twilight Pets a Puppy2,461 words
Excuse me... What?3,356 words
Twilight's Dream World1,421 words
Interlude 1: "Ballin," thus said the Messiah2,072 words
Interlude 2: So a Timelord, a Unicorn, a Paradox, and an Earth Pony go into a tavern...2,648 words

Interlude 1: "Ballin," thus said the Messiah

The Twilight 12:9

And lo, and behold, the messiah as she ran forth against the dogged stigma borne upon the unicorns. The godless heathens mocked and jeered as she crossed over the bridge - the crowd made of curious folk sported their daily needs, hoisted upon their backs as they watch silently. Few dared to whisper about what was happening.

The five heathens laughed at her, for they did not believe. Nay, such faith upon the messiah was not needed. And so, unto them, the messiah spoke. "Spike", she called out with such fervor in her voice, "give unto me the ball."

And Spike did as she commanded, fear upon his eyes. Celestia bless his soul as he wept for his friend. He knelt and prayed upon Celestia's Sun and Luna's Moon that the messiah be saved from such harm, but such notion was not needed. For the messiah was graced upon birth by the Sun and the Moon, the dusk and the dawn as the light of the warm sun and coolness of the moon brought forth a culmination of light and dark.

And her disciples stood in shock and sheer wanton fear; her wolf amongst her side wailed and whimpered, and her fifth disciple fainted, her fuchsia mane covering her face. Her third disciple, however, braved onwards as Loyalty called upon her name, yet she did not know what to do. Disgruntled, was she, as she was forced to be a part of the crowd.

"Forsayeth, unto you, such stigma must be quenched!" The messiah spoke, her brow as fierce as a lion's stare. "Let it be known that love and tolerance shall be thine own goal in life, lest you lose those you care for."

And the bells chimed, and she was alone against the five heathens. Godless were they as they rushed at her, but she did not falter. With the grace of a hummingbird, she crossed over the first as she dove before the second tackled her. Strong was her will to grace upon the rings of fire, her blood boiling with silent wrath. She continued to push on; the crowd was flummoxed and her disciples silent, basking in their messiah's glory, marveling at how she graced the battlefield.

Left, then right, the ball moved freely at her hooves as she crossed the unholy gap. With a roar, she dove over the last heathen, her hooves reaching upon the ring of fire that they had failed to protect. The ring bellowed a blue flame, such a magnificent sight.

The crowd cheered, the once silent crowd blew forth a loud cry at their messiah. The ring reverbed a loud echo as the ball passed through with such strength. And the messiah spoke, "I cast upon thee," she said as she hung at the basket, "the Divine Intervention!"

And the fire bellowed once more, the heathens shook in fear as they saw the messiah's strength. "Could she be ballin," one of the heathens said, "with such fervor in her steps?"

And the others shook their heads, for they do not wish to believe. "Thine actions... 'twas but a fluke!" One heathen said as he passed the ball unto the messiah once more. And she shook her head. "You wish not to listen, for you fear the truth."

She dribbled the ball once more, the silence ever looming as the ball continued to bounce. Then she set her gaze upon the darkened skies; she gasped and stared as the light parted through the clouds, shining over her. The warmth of the sun blessed her with the conviction to move forward. With such warmth, she closed her eyes and placed her right hoof upon her chest as she breathed in deeply. She kissed her hoof as she looked up once more, raising her right hoof upward as she muttered, "I dedicate mine own goal upon thee."

And so unto the heathens, she charged, aiming to dunk the ball upon the ring of fire once more. But she was stopped by a wall of heathens. As she looked upon the sun, she smiled and jumped, her hoof throwing with all her might just to reach the ring. And the ball had reached it, and the ball had fallen in. "Praise be, I cast, the Holy Hoof Grenade!"

And the crowd started to believe! And the crowd cheered once more. And the heathens gaped like fishes on the dry land. And they stared at the messiah with such fear. And so, unto the messiah, they gave the ball once more. And this time, they were ready.

And the messiah was prepared, but even she did not see such coordination from the heathens, as they grabbed the ball and passed it with the others. She had lost her ball, but she did not give up. They tried to confuse the messiah, but that did not work, for she was the messiah! Graced was she by the light and the dark, her name forever the lock and key for both. And she shone brightly with the light of the sun, her sweet face adorned with a crown of leaves. With her brow anointed by her own sweat, she began to run once more as she grabbed the ball mid bounce. As she did so, she crossed once more, breaking one of the heathen's fetlock.

"Cast unto thee, the Holy Cross!"

She dabbled over what to do, for she was surrounded. And the crowd was worried. Thus, unto them, she ran and within a mere second, turned with the grace of a butterfly as she held the ball with her right hoof. She had outdone them, and was now approaching the ring. A loud reverb came once more from the ring as she hang from it, the crowd cheered louder as her first disciple blew through a horn, sounding her presence.

And thus it continued for a few more turns. But the messiah was not merely a soldier, nay, she was a sentry as well. As the heathen leapt towards her ring, she too, leapt and smote the ball away, casting it out of her fire. "Look upon my wonders," she said as she stretched her hoof to grab the ball, "and weep at it, for I am as merciful as I am stern!"

"And thusly, I cast unto thee, the Sacred Shield!" And she glowed with the light of the sun, her purple mane flowing in the wind; graceful were her steps as she ran towards their ring, but stopped at the middle as she jumped. And her mark was true as the ball fell inside the ring once more. And she kissed her hoof once more as she raised it high in the air, as the crowd spoketh with such fervor in their voice! Loud were they as they saw the true meaning of belief.

And Spike wept with joy as he fainted, the sight of the messiah, nay, the sight of his friend was all but too much. And the fifth disciple cheered loudly, her wings fluttering in the air like a hummingbird's. And the messiah banished the shadows that casted upon the ball, her hoof drenched with the sweat and dirt.

And the messiah looked upon the heathens. "Be not afraid," she spoke, "for it is thine truth that thy fear."

And the messiah gave them the ball. And the heathens sneered at the messiah, for they are losing their wills. And one heathen spoke, "Thine own actions are but faults! Thy art using magic, admit it!"

And the messiah shook her head, "Nay," she spoke with a calm that rivaled a still bowl. "Mine own skills are that of mine own wits and strength." And the messiah looked at them with determination. "And mine own skills prove that I, too, am ballin'," she said with certainty.

And she stood at the ready, her words running deep within their psyche. Here was the messiah who they mocked, destroying their very conviction to carry on. Silent were the crowds once more as they watch with uncontested intent. They were waiting for their move against the lone messiah. How is it that five heathens could not even beat one measly challenger?

But they knew that they were wrong, for the messiah was right in front of them. And the messiah's words wrung their hearts. They could not admit it, not now.

And so, unto the messiah, they dashed forward. But the messiah was ready, and like a wave hitting the the rocks, it was strong yet smooth; her movements were quick and steady, her hooves grabbing upon the ball. And lo, and behold, she jumped. As if she grew a pair of wings, she jumped higher than any of the heathens. She jumped as she threw the ball with all her might. And the shot was once more true, as it dinged the board and fell unto the ring. And the messiah won against the heathens.

And the heathens collapsed unto the ground. Tired were they as they lay upon their bellies. And the messiah walked upon their direction.

"And so," she said with kindness in her voice, "Didst mine own words flow through thine minds?" The messiah then raised her hoof and gently helped them up their hooves. "Thou art arrogant in thine own ways, yet so blind at what is in front of thee. Look upon the others and lose thine thorns upon thine hearts and minds, open forth for the sake of those who wish to know thee."

And the messiah calmly walked towards her disciples, and her disciples cheered. And her wolf yipped in place, barking at the messiah. And the wolf had cuddled upon her warmth, as the messiah gently carried the wolf pup. Yes, the messiah's word hung upon each and everypony's minds that day.

And the messiah stood with pride and dignity amongst her disciples.

And the messiah showed ponykind the power of love and friendship.

And the messiah spoke with a light tone, thus-

"Hiya Featherweight! Whatcha up ta?" Apple Bloom said as she waltzed in the Foal Free Press. Featherweight was a small and gaunt little pegasus colt, with a brown mane and a short brown tail, with a feather cutie mark befitting his name. He was currently wearing what appeared to be robes as he was writing underneath a candlelit room... which was surprising since the room has decent lighting. Apple Bloom, along with the rest of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, were staring at him curiously.

"Uhh... Fan-fiction! Yes." Featherweight said without much conviction. The rest of the CMC's, however, bought it. "Ooh, can I read it? I love reading fan-fiction. What's it about?" Sweetie Belle asked, hoping to get a peek at what Featherweight was writing.

Scootaloo, however, was confused. "Uhh, I thought you liked taking photos? Why are you writing instead?"

Featherweight simply looked at them. "Well... just because I like taking photos doesn't mean that I have to stop doing other things." He then turned to look at Sweetie Belle. "Oh, and uh, that's just a draft for something. I, uhh, actually have a finished product for a fanfic I've written about Beauty and the Beast!" Featherweight said, happily giving out one of his actual fanfiction to Sweetie Belle if it meant that she wouldn't snoop around.

"Really?! Thanks!" Sweetie squeaked. "Yeah, this is, uhh, a draft for another fanfiction for the Power Ponies. Yeah." Apple Bloom simply narrowed her eyes at Featherweight, his sweat dripping ever so slightly.

"Oh, aight then! See ya later, Featherweight!" Apple Bloom said, motioning for the other crusaders to follow her. Scootaloo simply looked bored but Sweetie Belle was bouncing up and down, excited to read another fan-fiction of her favorite play. They all waved him goodbye as they left.

As they closed the door, they continued to bicker amongst themselves. "Have ya seen Twilight playin' that game, uhh, what was it called again?"

"Hoofball?" The voice of Sweetie Belle said as they walked further and further from the Foal Free Press, clutching the folder of fanfiction with her magic. "I think it was basketball," the distant voice of Scootaloo said, and the rest of their conversations were inaudible from there.

Thankful that he wasn't prodded any further, Featherweight picked up his quill once more and continued to write.

"They will never understand..." he muttered as he wrote underneath the calming light of the candles.

Author's Note:

Things that inspired me to write this:

This and This.

"Why are you like this? "