MONDAY, JULY 10, 1:21 PM
I’m used to seeing Twilight in a lab coat, so it doesn’t surprise me when she answers the door wearing one. But I’m caught off guard by the dark oil stains that dot her clothes, and the tiny bandages plastered all over her hands and face.
“Whoa,” I say. A memory from last week flashes in my mind, and a cold rock lodges itself in my stomach. “Are you alright?”
“Yep! Why?” Twilight must notice me staring, because she holds up a bandaged hand and frowns at it, then lights up again. “Oh, this? Sorry, the can opener robot I’m working on temporarily gained sentience. You know how it is.”
I don’t, but I guess that explains the oil. My stomach thaws out.
She jabs a thumb over her shoulder. “Wanna help me rewire its brain chip?”
“Maybe another time,” I say, stepping inside. “We’re meeting Rarity and Shy at the mall, remember? Summer sale at Oatlinens?”
Twilight hits the side of her head. “Oh crud, I totally forgot! Are they waiting for us?”
“Nah, we’ve still got about an hour.” I reach down to pinch the hem of her lab coat. “You wanna go get changed? Not that I don’t love the fit.”
“You might, but I doubt Rarity will appreciate the smell.” She moves to the staircase. “C’mon. You can say hi to Spike, too.”
I nod and follow close behind.
I’ve been inside Twilight’s house a few times now. It’s not quite as pretty inside as it is on the outside, but it’s just as gothic. Steep staircases, dim hallways, old portraits on the darkly painted walls. The floorboards creak louder than a banshee, no matter how lightly I try to tiptoe. I hate to say it, but the house feels cold — it reminds me of the echoey castle halls back in Equestria, and how imposing they seemed without Celestia at my side.
Ugh, thinking positively about Celestia still twists my brain up. Playing out an entire chess match in my head would feel simpler.
We start up the staircase. But before we’re even halfway up, Twilight stops. “Hey,” she says, turning to me. “Do you wanna meet my mom?”
That freezing stone thunks into my gut again.
But this is the kind of question that only has one polite answer.
“Sure,” I say.
Twilight’s got a Pinkie-sized smile on her face. She slips past me and heads back down the staircase, beckoning me to stick with her.
My thick, dirt-stained combat boots feel five times as heavy. While Twilight leads me down a hallway I’ve never seen, I look down to count the holes on my jeans and hide the exposed bra strap on my shoulder.
I’ve got no idea who I’m about to meet. Twi’s only ever mentioned her mom in passing. But between her genius daughter, her (apparently) star quarterback son, and this mansion, I’m picturing an über-woman with sharp eyes, sharp heels, and an even sharper tongue, ready to slice me down at the slightest misstep.
I wasn’t picturing another Twilight.
When we get to the kitchen, we find Twilight’s mom on the phone, scribbling into a thick leather notebook. “Okay,” she mutters every few seconds. She’s leaning over the center island, wearing sweatpants and a frayed Manehattan University t-shirt. No high heels — no shoes at all. “Chrysanthemum Glory… Could you spell out that first name for me?”
Twilight’s mom looks exactly like her daughter, just with paler skin, half-gray hair, and some wrinkles. They’ve got the same tiny nose, same round chin, same spindly limbs. Their boobs are even about the same size, which I mentally slap myself for noticing. And that focused expression — eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, chewing lip — is the exact same as Twilight's when she’s thinking.
“Right. Okay.” Twilight’s mom closes her notebook. “Tell her to call me if there are any updates. Thanks, bye.” She hangs up and right away her focused face softens. “Sorry, source call. Hi! Who’s this?”
“Mom,” Twilight says, stepping to the side so there’s a clear line between me and the older woman, “this is my friend Sunset Shimmer.”
I hold out my hand. “Nice to meet you, mom—ma’am.”
Oh my goddess why.
Her smile grows. “Call me Velvet,” she says, returning my handshake. She looks me up and down. I swear I can feel her gaze running along my leg hair. “Are you the one who taught our dog how to talk?”
I don’t know if I can get any stiffer. Twilight sighs. “No. That’s Fluttershy.”
“Right, right!” Velvet scratches her chin, squints. “So what’s your superpower?”
“Mom.”
“What? I’m curious!”
“Um.” I glance at Twilight, like I’m waiting for permission to answer. “I can sorta look into people’s minds. Feel their emotions and see memories. That kind of stuff.”
“You can read minds?” Velvet says, chuckling. Before I can explain that’s not exactly what I mean, she bows her head to point her scalp at my face. “What am I thinking about right now?”
Again I look at Twilight, but she’s got her face in her hands. So I take a long breath and reach forward, laying my palm gently on her mom’s head.
There’s a dull itch in the back of my skull. A purple and white blob floats into view. I focus my power, delving deeper into her head until the blob hardens into a concrete image: Twilight standing at a sink, wearing big rubber gloves and scrubbing plates.
I let go of her head and frown. “Twilight washing dishes?”
Velvet gasps and throws a hand to her heart. “My daughter, actually doing chores? You didn’t just read my mind — you saw my dreams!”
By now, Twilight has her face pressed against the island, arms crossed over her head. “You are so embarrassing,” she says through the wood.
“Oh, hush. What’s ‘embarrassing’ is you bringing in a guest when I don’t have any makeup on. I look like an old crone!” Velvet drags a hand down her face, temporarily smoothing out the few wrinkles. “It’s bad enough that I met your boyfriend like this. But now a cute, hip teenage girl? She’s gonna SnapGab all about it!”
Cute? Are her eyes as screwed up as Twilight’s?
I put my hands up defensively. “I’m not SnapGabbing anything, trust me. And you look great!”
Velvet’s eyebrows perk up. “Hmph. Maybe this new generation isn’t as vain as I thought.”
As Twi and her mom bicker about generation gaps, I start to feel nauseous. Not because they’re actually angry at one another, definitely not — Velvet is still smirking and Twilight is even laughing while she whines — but because she reminds me of Celestia.
She used to joke and tease me in the same way. But I was so self-obsessed! I had such a big ego that I took the slightest jab as a personal attack. Even that ‘my little pony’ pet name of hers sent me into a rage. It took becoming friends with Pinkie for me to realize how much love you can pack into a joke.
As a filly, all I ever wanted was a mom. Someone to love me unconditionally, to laugh with when I was happy and hold when I got scared. Then I found one. Then I threw her in the trash.
I know that Celestia’s forgiven me. I know. But I wasted her, and our relationship can’t ever go back to how it was. No matter how many times I apologize, or how many times she forgives me. It’s just been too long.
Velvet seems great. Funny, warm. Just straight up nice. I see where Twi gets it from. But looking at her is a reminder that no one will ever love me like that again.
“Is that true?” Velvet asks me.
I look at her and blink. I’ve got no idea what she’s talking about — the dangers of angsting in the middle of a conversation — and I’ve spent the last minute chewing my tongue so hard that my jaw hurts. “What’s up?”
“Twily says that you’re ‘the coolest girl at CHS,’” she says. “That’s a heavy burden to bear!”
I flick my eyes over to Twilight, but she’s looking at her fidgeting hands with a thin blush across her face.
I shrug. “I dunno if I’d say that. But Twi’s pretty cool too, so I’ll trust her.”
Twilight rolls her eyes. “Who in the world thinks I’m cool?”
Both Velvet and I raise our hands. “Also Timber,” I add.
She waves us off. “You three are biased. Outliers. Removed from the data set.”
Velvet snorts — Goddess, even that’s are the same — then grabs her empty coffee cup and steps over to the brewer near the fridge. “I have to admit, Sunset, that I’m screwing with you a bit,” she says. “I’ve actually been dying to meet you. Twily talks about you a lot.”
“Oh, really?” I giggle and lean into Twilight, deliberately towering over her and leering with wide eyes.
“Not that much,” Twilight says with a pout. Her blush keeps growing.
“More than any of your other friends!”
“And what does she say?” I ask, speaking into the top of Twilight’s head. I’m standing on my tiptoes now.
When Velvet turns to grab some sugar, Twilight tilts her head back so she’s looking directly upwards into my eyes. “You’ve got five seconds before I tell her you’re a horse.”
I jump away.
Velvet turns back to us, stirring her coffee. “She says you’re a great student, like all the same games. You play guitar in your band, right?”
“Yep.” I smile at Twi again, who’s playing with her curls. “That sums me up pretty well.”
Velvet closes her eyes and nods, then takes a long sip of coffee. But halfway through her eyes snap open again and she says, “Oh, and she tells me you’re a fantastic artist!”
…What?
“Am I?” I ask, frowning at Twi. “What kind of art?”
She looks back at me, just as confused. “You know, drawing and painting and all that. I’ve seen the stuff you make in art class — like the city picture you gave me! It’s beautiful.”
I blow a raspberry. “No way. That stuff’s so trash! All my paintings look like a ten-year-old did them.”
“Well, what about your sketchbook?” Twilight asks, stammering. “It’s loaded with cool drawings.”
A chill runs across my back. “When did you look at my sketchbook?”
Twilight’s mouth hangs for a second. “We sat next to each other in Statistics. You spent half our classes drawing in it.” She pauses. “I didn’t see much. Just a few pictures of people.”
That doesn’t make me feel much better. The anatomy studies I did of all my friends linger behind my eyes.
“Oh. Well,” I start, but it takes a few seconds to come up with a rebuttal. And when I do, it’s just, “That stuff’s crap too. I just do art for fun.”
“It can be both fun and good,” Twilight says. She crosses her arms. “Honestly, I thought you were thinking of it as a career. You’re not going to college for art? Or music?”
“Nah, def not,” I say, shaking my head. Where is she getting this from? I don’t think I’ve ever even considered going to an arts school, let alone told Twilight about it. Sounds like a waste of time, honestly — I do not have the skill to be a professional artist. “Art is a hobby. I wanna go to Manehattan Institute of Science, get a Chem degree.”
Twilight looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Really?”
“Well, good for you!” Velvet says, raising her mug. I’d almost forgotten she was standing there. She taps her thick notebook. “Not my sort of thing, but there’s certainly more money in science than journalism.”
She puts her mug down and wags a finger at me. “But remember—”
“Money’s not the only thing worth caring about,” Twilight says in a monotone.
Velvet swings her finger around to point at Twi. “Exactly.”
“Of course,” I say, nodding. I turn to Twi. “But I’ve gotta make a decent salary if I’m ever gonna pay the Princess back.”
Velvet tilts her head. “Who?”
Both Twilight and I freeze up. I open my mouth, but all that comes out is, “Um.”
Before I can sprint out of the kitchen, Velvet’s phone rings. She glances at the screen, sighs, and then smiles at us. “Sorry girls, source call. You two go have fun, alright? And be safe.”
Twilight gives a quick salute and walks away, back towards the foyer. I wave goodbye and start following, but then Velvet calls me back with a quick, “Wait, Sunset!”
I turn to her. She beams. “Thank you for being so good to Twilight. It’s been lovely to meet you.”
The nausea from before is gone, replaced with a proud warmth in my chest. I shoot her a peace sign and leave.
As we climb the stairs to her room, Twilight gives me the same confused look as before. “You want to be a chemist?”
I shrug. “Why not? I’m good at chemistry.”
“Do you like it?”
“Sure. I mean, as much as any other STEM field.”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic,” Twilight says as we reach the third floor. She keeps her eyes low. “I don’t mean to nag. You’re just such a fantastic artist, so I figured...”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, following her to her bedroom. “I love art! But I’m nowhere near good enough to make a career out of it.”
“Isn’t that why you go to college? To learn more? To improve?”
“Or to score a degree. Y’know, so I don’t starve.”
Twilight rolls her eyes and walks faster.
She might as well have cursed me out. If I still had a tail, it’d be stuck between my legs. In hindsight, that probably isn’t the kind of joke to make with a girl who legit writes thank you notes to all her teachers.
Despite my crappy joke, she still opens her bedroom door and holds it open for me. Before she can follow, I throw out my arms and flop across her bed.
Spike’s already sleeping there, and I impact hard enough to launch him a foot into the air. When he lands, he glares at me. “Nice to see you too.”
I giggle and scratch under his chin. “Sorry, bud. But this bed is too big for just one pup.”
“I think it’s the perfect size,” he says. He’s still glaring, but his tail wags faster with each scratch.
Twilight’s bedroom is pretty big, but it’s so packed to the brim with stuff that it feels cramped. Science equipment, computers, anime figurines, books, plants, half-built robots, stuffed animals — there’s barely a foot of free space in the entire room. She claims it’s all too important to put away, but I suspect her mom might not agree.
Once she’s taken off her lab coat, Twilight sits down next to us. “I think you’re more than talented enough to make it a career.” She motions to the picture I gifted her — the drawing of vines reclaiming a ruined city — that’s pinned to a bulletin board near her PC. From this distance, it’s not quite as shitty as I remember.
I shrug again. “Maybe. But even if I were, how much money is there in it? I’m not exactly the ‘starving artist’ type. I really like food.”
That gets a tiny titter out of her. Friendship saved. “Well,” she says, “I think you’ll be a fantastic chemist too.”
I grin. “And if I discover a new element, I’ll name it after you.”
“Twilightium?”
“No, dorkium.”
Now she breaks into one of her signature snort-laughs. Friendship really saved.
“You’re going into engineering, right?” I ask, reaching over to scratch Spike’s belly. “Where are you gonna go? Everton?”
“They have the best robotics program in the country, yeah. And their main campus is only an hour away.” She lays back and folds her hands over her stomach. “But they’re incredibly competitive. And transferring schools junior year — especially from private to public — doesn’t look great on an application.”
“That’s such bull. You’ve got perfect grades. Who cares where you earned them?”
“Everton, unfortunately.” She turns over and smiles at me. “MIS has a great program too. If they accept me, maybe we could go together? I know friendship solves everything, but I’d much rather have you as a roommate than someone I’ve never met.”
My stomach locks up. The thought of moving to a new town, paying thousands in tuition, committing four years of my life to university and the rest to chemistry — it makes me wanna puke.
But it’s my plan. It’s the best plan. I need money, food, a place to live. Art and music are great, but they aren’t stable careers. And I can’t keep relying on Princess Twilight to support me, especially once I start doing taxes and the feds ask how I’m paying my bills.
The future is hurtling towards me. Am I ready for it?
Ugh, of course I am! Every teenager goes through this. I’ve faced worse. Can MIS teach me how to suck it up and stop whining?
“Sunset?”
“Definitely,” I say. “And then I can teach you how to draw, and you can become an art major for me.”
She scoffs. “If you don’t have the talent, then I definitely don’t.”
“How do you know? Do you ever draw?”
“No.” She looks away, fingers fidgeting. “Not really.”
Twilight. Oh, Twilight. You’re not getting away that easily.
I raise an eyebrow. “So you do. Anything recent?”
“Sort of. It’s nothing.”
Now I sit up. “Can I see?”
For a few seconds, she’s quiet. Then she sits up too. “You have to promise not to laugh.”
“Totally.” I hold up three fingers. “Filly Scout’s honor.”
“Okay, there is no way you were an anything scout.”
“True,” I say, putting down my fingers. “But I still give my word. From one scientist to another.”
She’s pouting. But soon she stands up, walks over to her desk, and opens one of the drawers. She takes a moment to sift through, then pulls out a sheet of paper with something purple drawn on it. Her stance is stiff as she walks back and hands it to me. I give her one last smile before taking a look.
Goddess above it takes every scrap of acting prowess I have to not burst out laughing.
It’s a picture of Twilight, scribbled in colored pencil — a picture of Twilight as a pony. She’s got the same hair and glasses, but she’s down on four blocky hooves. Her entire body is purple, just a shade darker than the Princess, and her wings are bigger than the rest of her body. No horn, though, and no cutie mark. She’s a blank flanked pegasus.
“This is,” I start, biting the inside of my mouth so I don’t grin, “nice.”
Her face is red. She crosses her arms. “I know that I have a pony counterpart in Equestria, and I was trying to imagine what she looks like — what I’d look like if I crossed over. Is this close?”
“Pretty close! She’s got smaller wings, though. And she’s got a horn.”
Twilight’s eyes go wide. “She has wings and a horn? When I pony up, I only have wings.”
“Yep, that’s what makes her a princess.” I tap Twilight’s flank. “Also you forgot your cutie mark.”
Her wide eyes narrow. “What’s a cutie mark?”
Right. Magical ass tattoos aren’t a universal concept.
“It’s a thing ponies have,” I explain, scooching over to let her sit down. “When you find your ‘special talent’ — basically what you want to do with your life — a symbol appears on your flank to represent it. Sort of like magic puberty.”
She nods like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Did you have one?”
“Yep. Mine was a gold-and-red sun. And the Princess’ is a pink star — like the ones on your skirt.”
Twilight looks down at her skirt, dotted in tiny pink stars, and frowns. “This is my cutie mark? What does it mean?”
I scratch my chin. “Well, Princess Twilight’s represents how she’s an expert at magic. But an Earth-born human has never crossed into Equestria before, so there’s no guarantee that you’d have the same mark.”
“Interesting.” She takes the drawing from me and touches her blank flank. “Sounds convenient, having a surefire way to know what you’re destined for. Maybe my cutie mark could be an atom, signifying my love for science? Or a wrench, to represent engineering?”
“Sure! Anything’s possible.” The smallest giggle slips through my lips as I nudge her. “After all, it’s your fursona.”
She grabs a pillow and smacks me in the face with it.
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Not with that attitude you won't. The future may be terrifying, but it's also full of possibilities. (Granted, that's part of why it's terrifying.)
And I do love a good embarrassing mom Velvet. In this case, it's at least partially vengeance for not giving her a chance to put her face on.
I see Sunset learning to embrace what she loves over what she thinks is "right" or "safe" will be a theme on multiple levels in this story.
You deserved that one Sunny-buns.
Ooh, good recovery, but that slip-up on the landing's gonna cost her. Let's see what the judges have to say.
|9| |8.5| |6|
Ouch. Looks like Judge #3 has some . . . opinions about furries. And they don't appear to be positive.
Uh huh...
Welp, looks like she's on her own now!
Kinda sounds like she has a hoarding problem to me if she doesn't keep it all cleaned.
Agreed.
I don't mind. I did something similar to that in my final eqg story.
I see we are still struggling with the self depreciation when it comes to our artistic talents. I enjoyed Sunset's metal image of Velvet being shattered to the point of near perversion. Who doesn't enjoy a good, "You look like a clone of your Mom" gag.
The having to get a job to not starve while you art on the side hit close to home. I would have loved to have made art my profession, but it's hard unless you are already independently wealthy or you have family or a partner to back you up. I say that from experience.
And you just know Twilight wanted to ask what happened to Sunset's magical butt tattoo.