An open anthology of brief continuations of other authors' stories.
When a story touches you deeply, sometimes the only appropriate reaction is to respond in kind.
This is an open anthology of minifics which continue or revisit other authors' fanfics — embracing and extending, and reflecting on questions raised by the work. Due to the nature of the collection, this contains spoilers for other authors' stories, though each chapter contains a link to let you read the source first (and a spoilered summary, if you want to jump right in).
Dash closed the door behind her, took a deep breath, and looked up.
Celestia had already set her quill down, and was making a show of levitating her pile of scrollwork off to one side of the desk. "Rainbow Dash," she said, eyes bright, smile genuine, tone sincere. "It's so wonderful to see you."
"Yeah," Dash said, rubbing the back of her neck with a hoof, heat rising in her cheeks. What had she been thinking? "Thanks. For the audience, I mean."
"I would do the same for any pony who had saved Equestria multiple times," Celestia said with droll understatement, "but that's not why I'm happy to see you here. I hear so much about you from Twilight's letters, and I've enjoyed the times we've chatted. I had been hoping I would someday get the chance to speak with you more personally. Tea?" She gestured to the sideboard by the door, where a pitcher of iced orange-brown liquid sat, sides glistening with condensation.
Dash suddenly placed the scent of orange-blossom and herb and sugar her earlier breath had hinted at. Her mouth watered. Sweetened Qilinese citrus tea. Her favorite —
No. Focus.
She drew in another breath of sweet distraction, and exhaled deliberately, the scent clinging to the inside of her nostrils. "No. Um. No thank you, Your Highness. Actually, um … I just came to ask you something."
Celestia caught and held her gaze, resting elbows on table and muzzle on forehooves, an easy smile on her face, her mane gently floating in some intangible wind. "Of course. What can I do for you?"
Dash stared back — feeling intensity tighten her forehead and twitch at the corners of her mouth. One of Celestia's eyebrows quirked up several degrees: a silent statement of curiosity — an invitation to confide — maternal and welcoming — an impossible wealth of emotion for a simple muscular shift. Then her smile broadened, making Dash feel as if they were sharing a private joke.
It was utterly disarming. Dash almost laughed, and couldn't quite keep a smile from her muzzle. She gave into it as gracefully as she could, flashing teeth, then cleared her throat behind the mask of a hoof, and blurted out:
"Do you know what day it is?"
Celestia's expression froze.
It was only for a moment, but it was unmistakeable. Her face went perfectly blank, the smile tightening into pleasant insincerity, and in that moment her eyes were a mirror in the fearsome, featureless frame of her face, and Dash saw herself writ larger than she had ever imagined she might become.
"Of course," Celestia said before Dash could fully process the thought. The mirror cracked. Her smile relaxed. "It's Haypril 3. Two weeks past Spring Equinox. Three days before the Robins' Ball. The ninth birthday of the gryphon ambassador's daughter. The anniversary of the founding of Fillydelphia. The traditional start date of the Rose Fair in the Canterlot outdoor markets — even though they pushed it back this year due to some late-scheduled spring storms."
Dash stared mutely, heart thudding in her breast. She had seen it. For that split second, she'd seen it.
Celestia's smile fell. She stood and paced to the window, staring out into the courtyard. The room fell into an uneasy silence, punctuated by the regular shouts and hoof-falls of a Guard drill far below.
At length, Celestia asked softly, "What day is it, Rainbow Dash?"
Dash walked up to the window, staring down at the ponies marching in formation.
"I don't know," she said.
Off to one side of the courtyard, a mare and her foals were sitting on the grass, eating lunch and watching the drills. The youngest filly was squealing excitedly, pointing at one of the stallions in armor, and marching up and down the grass at the edge of the practice yard with exaggerated swings of her hooves.
"But it was Wednesday yesterday," Dash added. "I'm pretty sure. I was talking to Applejack. That's what she said."
Something touched Dash's back. She almost leapt out of her skin before she realized that it was Celestia's wing, resting gently on the crest of her spine, curling maternally around her side. She drew in a tense breath and sidled in underneath the shelter of the princess' feathers.
"I don't know either," Celestia said.
Dash knew. But it still helped to hear it.
"But Wednesday's just a name," Celestia continued. "It's a way of parceling up time, trying to force it into the little boxes of our lives. Weekdays are a very Twilight way of thinking about time, aren't they?"
"Heh," Dash said. "Yeah."
"So, Rainbow Dash, what happened yesterday?"
Down below, the guards halted at a shouted command, reversed direction, and marched toward the grass. The filly squealed, dashed out onto the hard-packed dirt, and hugged the leg of a soldier. He staggered to a halt, trying to dislodge her, and the formation bunched and broke.
"I. Uh. Talked to Applejack. Had Twilight send a scroll to the castle. Packed my things. Thought about flying here and sleeping in Canterlot overnight. Thought about cancelling and not coming at all. Went to bed and told myself I'd see how I felt in the morning. Couldn't sleep. Got up before dawn and watched the sun rise mid-flight. Though I guess that was today."
The drill sergeant was screaming in the soldier's face. He was standing rigid — if slightly askew, with the filly clinging to his leg — and staring out into the distance. The mare on the grass was cringing apologetically, beckoning the filly back.
"What about you?" Dash asked.
The filly finally disentangled herself from the soldier's leg and shuffled back to the grass, head drooping. The soldier snapped a salute to the drill sergeant, red-faced, and began galloping around the perimeter of the exercise yard.
"I had dinner with my sister," Celestia said. "Mixed nuts and imported dried sweetfruits on a bed of chilled steamed dandelion greens." She waved a hoof, sunlight gleaming off of the golden solleret. "Also signed a treaty that will shape our relationship with the gryphon kingdoms for a generation, negotiated a budget that will keep the wheels of Equestria grinding for another decade, hosted a groundbreaking lecture on magical theory at Canterlot University, and won my annual game with the national lapides grandmaster. But, you know. Usual stuff. Hardly worth mentioning."
Dash looked up at Celestia's muzzle. The gentle smile was back.
"And dinner with Luna was?" she asked.
Celestia's lips curled into an impish grin. "It was a very nice dinner."
"The sort of dinner you'll remember in thirty years?" Dash pressed.
"No," Celestia said.
Dash sighed, turning her gaze back to the window. Down in the courtyard, the mare on the grass gave her filly a hug.
"But I'll remember that I enjoyed it," Celestia added quietly. "And sometimes that's enough."
Demesne For Sale (MrNumbers' "The Demesne Of The Reluctant Twilight Sparkle")
Fluttershy stared past the edge of the cracked-open door. All Twilight could see of her was an unblinking sliver of eye in a tiny stripe of yellow. "Oh. Hi, Twilight. Yes, yes, it is."
Twilight waited. Fluttershy stared. Two squirrels chased each other through Twilight's hooves.
Twilight cleared her throat. "Uh, I was hoping you could maybe help me clear something up?"
"Anything for you, Twilight." The door didn't move.
"Yes. Well." Twilight coughed quietly into a hoof. "Do you remember that contract I drew up to put this whole ridiculous demesne thing behind us, transferring ownership of everyone in Ponyville to themselves for the sale price of one bit, to be subsequently donated to charity? Do you remember my announcement that I just needed everypony's signature as a party to the transaction in order to make the transfer legal and official?"
"Of course."
"It … err … appears to be one signature short."
Through the tiny crack, Fluttershy's cheek grew pink highlights. "That must be very. Um. Upsetting," she whispered. "I know how hard you worked on that."
"Fluttershy," Twilight said, feeling a migraine coming on, "it's YOUR signature."
Silence.
For a moment, Twilight thought the door was going to slam shut, but Fluttershy's eye slowly blinked, and the flush on her cheek deepened. "Well, um," she said faintly, "I must have forgotten."
"That's alright. I brought the contract."
"Okay."
A cock crowed from the coop around back of the cottage. A raccoon squirmed through a tight hole in the building's foundations, hind legs flailing and scrambling. A bluejay wheedelee'd in a nearby tree.
"Fluttershy," Twilight said, voice getting strained, "please open the door and let me in so we can get the contract signed."
"Ord…" Fluttershy's voice locked up. Then Twilight saw her eye narrow in resolve. The door slammed open. Fluttershy stepped forward, standing in her doorway in something that looked like a maid's outfit but revealed far more than it covered. "Order me!" she shouted breathlessly. "Oh, Twilight, I've been such a bad pony, I haven't done what my owner wanted AT ALL. I've been so willful! MAKE me sign, Twilight! ORDER ME!"
* * *
Heart fluttering, Twilight glanced around the throne room. At the tapestries. At the stained glass. At the guards. At anything at all, just so long as it wasn't Celestia's eyes.
She reached behind her with a hoof, awkwardly, and tried to shove her wings back into their proper folded position.
"Twilight," Celestia said with strained maternal cheer, "this contract appears to be one signature short."
White (Appleloosan Psychiatrist's "Pink, Blue and Ivory")
The machine is still running when Celestia arrives. Twilight had muted its continuous and plaintive wail, but the tiny dot of light is still sweeping from side to side in a perfectly flat line.
The alicorn glances at the display. She glances at the body. Then she unplugs the machine from the wall.
Then, and only then, she says: "I'm so sorry, Twilight."
Twilight is staring singlemindedly at Pinkie's body, lower jaw trembling. At the sound of the voice, she looks up. Then she bursts into a sob, staggering over to Celestia's side and leaning heavily against her.
Celestia holds her faithful student — three hooves braced against her dead weight, one around her withers. Finally, she untucks a wing, cradling Twilight as a pegasus would, holding her in silence until the tears are spent.
"She," Twilight says through a raw throat, then stops to swallow. "She was going to get better."
Celestia says nothing, letting the words pour out as the sobs did, knowing their equal importance.
Twilight's body tenses. "I mean. I thought she was getting better. I really did. All the signs."
Celestia curls her neck down, resting her head against Twilight's in a comforting gesture, and nods.
"B-but now she won't, n-not ever again, and, ahuh." She gasps. The sobs return. "Ahuunh."
"Ssssh," Celestia says, holding her, an island against a battering ocean of tears.
As the tide recedes, Twilight pulls away. "I'm sorry," she says, shrinking back into a little ball, sitting heavily on the floor. "I need to tell everypony. I've got to get the word out. But I had to talk to you first. I … I … I needed this." Her ears flatten, and she wipes her cheeks. "I'm sorry. It just hurt so much."
Celestia herself sits. Twilight has relit the fire, but the stone still feels like ice.
"Tell them what?" she says, cautiously, gently.
A moment of terror flits across Twilight's features.
"That … Pinkie died," she says, face a little too earnest.
"Mmmh," Celestia acknowledges, looking over at the body.
"That it drove him over the edge."
"Not unexpected."
"Then he snapped, and killed himself."
"I think," Celestia says gently, "everypony already knows that part."
Guilt smashes into Twilight's face. "I should have been checking them more often. I shouldn't have left them alone to go —"
"Twilight," Celestia interrupts. "No."
"But —"
"Guilt is seductive. It's only natural to choose failure over powerlessness. But neither will help with what needs to be done now."
Twilight swallows. "Yes. Tell the others."
"Yes. We'll discuss your feelings later. I promise."
Twilight nods, numbly. "It's weird. Intellectually, I know it wasn't my fault." She adds hurriedly, "Wasn't anypony's fault."
"Of course not."
The hiss and crackle of the fire is a thin gruel to fill the hungry silence.
"It wasn't his fault," Twilight says.
She stares at her hooves, then glances around the room.
"The original accident, I mean."
She hoofs at the floor.
"I mean. Pinkie's death."
"How could it be? They were both asleep. He woke up to find this."
Twilight is instantly tense again. She looks up, afraid.
Celestia is smiling, sadly, kindly. Her horn is lit.
The light in the dim basement brightens.
Twilight's head whips around. A tasseled satin pillow is in the fireplace, flames licking across its surface, burning like the sun for a brief and silent moment.
When she turns, Celestia is already on her hooves, walking up the stairs.
Frozen Prison Blues (Benman's "The King's Lament")
I hear that train a'comin. Its engine's runnin' warm. Six ponies step on out and I send them a storm. I'm stuck in Frozen Prison, and time keeps draggin' on… But I'll retake the Empire soon as that bubble's gone.
When I was just a young colt, my momma told me, "Lad, Don't ever touch a crystal, they're the devil's right hand" I learned the darkest magic for a tiger's eye Then my momma started crying. (I still do not know why.)
I see them weaving baskets, and watching jousting brawls That unicorn is looking for my heart inside my halls I just need to delay them, and then I can break free! Now I've got you, little dragon — — Excuse me, sir, did you just throw your WIFE at me?
AAAAAGHHHH!
Well, it's back into my prison, With its fancy walls of ice Some curtains or a crystal or a crossword would be nice Here in Frozen Prison, where I am forced to stay But some day, some day, some day … yes, I'll get out some day.
As If This Wasn't Meta Enough (Skywriter's "Hoardsmiths")
As Applejack wandered through the Hoardsmith camp, marveling and shaking her head, she suddenly stopped dead.
"Rainbow Dash?" she said, jaw dropping.
"Oh! Hey, Jackie," Dash muttered around the pencil she was frantically scribbling with. She smiled but didn't get up.
"What're you doin' here?"
"What does it look like?" Dash spat out her pencil and grinned. "Just writing the most awesome story in the universe." She gestured around them. "It's about here."
AJ opened and closed her mouth. "But Dash, ya write Daring Do fiction. Ya sell Daring Do fiction. Tarnation, you're good at that. Shouldn't you be off earnin' a living instead of bein' here swapping stories with hoardsmiths who won't give you nothin' but praise?"
"C'mon, AJ, this is art." Dash's grin broadened. "Pure. Unfettered."
"You could do that out there, too."
"But. C'mon. Dragons! They're super awesome! They're chock full of, um, allegory and stuff!"
A unicorn tourist wandered by while they talked, raising his camera, taking photos of the stalls in the surrounding artists' market.
"Well," AJ allowed, "it is true that dragons are the most awesome things pretty much ever, I reckon. But if you're writing a dragon story because it's allegorical, it's not really a dragon story, right?"
Dash rubbed the back of her neck with a hoof. "Okay, yeah, you got me. But stories don't always have to be direct metaphors about the people who write them, right? Can't you just enjoy them on their own merits?"
The blue pegasus and the orange pony gave a significant glance at the camera. The tourist wandered away. Applejack glanced out at the horizon and coughed.
"Don't know what came over me there," she mumbled.
"Oh, it's this place. It does that to you. You'll get used to it."
"I might, at that. There's something seductive about being here."
Dash smirked. "Welcome to the Horde."
Georg's "Leaving The Nest" (Estelien's "This Is My Last Letter")
Princess Celestia lay stretched out in the Private Royal Gardens, a sheaf of correspondence laying unread at her hooves while she looked off into the distance at nothing in particular. The bustle and life of the gardens had always brought peace to her soul, even in that long agonizing time of Luna’s exile. And now, it continued to lift her spirits even when it felt like her heart was breaking worse than the nights when she would lift Luna’s precious moon up into the sky and feel the touch of insanity that had consumed her sister.
The shrill cries of a mother bird rose loudest in this center of peace and tranquility, chirping and screeching at a smaller bird still stuck firmly in the nest which had been its only home since hatching. For most of the morning, Celestia had simply sat and watched, lost in thought as the mother tried every weapon in her arsenal to pry the recalcitrant little bird out of her nest and into the blue sky where she belonged. After one last encouragement, the mother bird flew away into the gardens, leaving the little bird to chirp hopefully in the undersized nest. It looked around, confident that its mother would return with food and love as always, but as the day wore on, the chirps became less confident and more hopeful, turning into a long mournful cry as the sun neared the horizon. Finally, the little bird left its comfortable spot, still filled with the warm feathers of her mother to peek over the edge of its home at the ground so far below. Several times it leaned forward, spreading its new wings hesitantly, only to retreat to the safety of the known and the familiar. Only as the setting sun wreathed the world in tinges of gold and red did the little bird leap out of the nest, wings spread wide and flapping with only instinct to guide it. Several branches struck it, making the bird tumble in flight before recovering, landing in a bush next to Celestia and her unread paperwork.
“There you are, little one,” cooed Celestia, raising a hoof with a few small seeds on it, which the little bird pecked with great enthusiasm. “Fly, be free. Spread your wings.”
After a brief examination of the hoof for unfound seeds, the little bird rose into the air again on uncertain wings, exploring this strange world beyond its nest. In the distance, Celestia could see the mother bird watching, and she felt a twinge of empathy at the same time her horn gave a short burst of power and a neat scroll landed in her lap.
She opened the scroll, reading with no small amount of nervousness before putting it away and gathering up her letters. It would be a long night in her office tonight writing after she had put the sun to bed, but it was worth it.
Her little bird had finally learned to fly.
Stellar Fire (KitsuneRisu's "The Incandescent Brilliance")
Because they believed in you, the other says. And it killed them.
There are two foreign voices clashing in my head.
She made me promise to continue the project, the first voice says. It is cold, detached; the void between the stars, the darkness that defines my light. It tells me I have done no wrong.
I defy that. I cannot recognize it. I do not want it. But it is a part of me. I have a terrifying suspicion that this is how Luna felt when her jealousy began to whisper to her. I know it's not true, but I am terrified nonetheless.
She made me promise to continue, dispassionate logic echoes. It should console me that reason agrees with the first voice — but it does not, because reason also provides the counterpoint:
But why did they have to die at all?
That voice has a name. Two names. It speaks its words in the voices of my friends.
I want to shout and deny it, call it the impostor it is.
Mac would never give voice to those words. At Granny Smith's funeral, at Apple Bloom's hospital bed, at Fluttershy's side as she put down Angel, I have seen Big Macintosh Apple when the tides of grief rise too high. He curls in upon himself, takes a deep breath, and floats along on the surface, unmoored and drifting through the days and nights, bumping into the flotsam of friends and jetsam of chores, until the water recedes and he has floated so very far away. Then he shoulders his yoke, stands up, and plods back home, in perfect silence all the while.
One day, he will wash away beyond our pleas to return. One day, he will break, as his father did when his mother passed. One day, when he picks himself up after the tsunami, he will turn and walk in a different direction, and none of us will ever see him again.
I hope it is not I who will break him.
Fluttershy, too, would never give voice to those words. She would do something far crueler than to say them, crueler even than to hold them in silence: She would never think them at all.
I would show up at her doorstep, and she would see Russet's story in my eyes before I even opened my mouth. I would stumble through the final speech of a lost pony, as I promised to do, and she wouldn't even listen. I would get halfway through the speech I'd spent days memorizing, stammering through my tears, and I would miss a word, tripping over Trixie, and she would step forward before I could stop her and she would hug me. I would lose it completely, bawling onto her shoulders, and I couldn't shout at her; I would be too weak to say Hate me, too weak to say It was my fault. Every fiber of my being would be crying out for her to mourn, to blame, to hurt, to hit; but she would just hold me as I sank weightless to the floor, drying my immortal eyes and shushing me like she shushed the foal who would grow up to be murdered by me as surely as if I'd nursed him on the icy daggers of my royal teats, and Twilight, she'd say, Twilight, velvet voice over velvet hoof as I flailed to draw blood upon a nonexistent iron edge, Twilight, listen, as I hyperventilated, listen, she'd say, listen:
They wanted to be there —
Sozmioi's "Upon Reflection" (Cold in Gardez's "The Glass Blower")
The glass blower worked long into the evening. He worked as the tallow candles around him guttered and went out. He worked until the moon, high overhead, was the only motion in the night.
Sticks found him in the morning, staring into the corner; there lay the gathered shards of the mirror, its magic gone.
The glassblower looked up. "I have been an idiot."
Sticks nodded.
"Not merely a love-struck fool. An outright idiot."
Sticks nodded.
The glass blower looked down to the shards. His eyes furrowed.
Sticks sat, waiting for him to come out of it. The stare lasted for ten minutes.
Very slowly, the glass blower repeated himself: "I am not a love-struck fool. I am an idiot. I have been from the very beginning. Aagh! How could I have been so stupid?"
And with that, he threw on a coat and ran out the door. There was no work to be done, no more glass to blow. No time to waste.
Two hours later, he knocked on the door of Rarity's home, at the rear of the boutique.
It was a minute before she responded. Her bagged eyes regarded him with confusion, framed by a frazzled mane. Not even the cuts on her legs had been tended.
"The mirror was wrong."
Recognition dawned, and she remained baffled. He had said perhaps the one thing that could keep her from slamming the door in his face.
"I know it was wrong. You are beautiful, you are honest, and you are a good pony."
"You don't know me."
"That is just how I know it was wrong."
She stared. Then, trembling, she stepped back from the open door. "It's chilly out there."
The glass blower thoroughly cleaned the mud off his hooves on her mat before walking in.
She gestured him to one of the seats in the entry room and sat nervously in the other.
He opened, "I'm sorry about the bird."
She blinked rapidly. "What? It was beautiful."
"But what could you do? It was a trap. If you accepted it, how could you say 'Very good! Let's go to lunch and get to know each other'?"
Rarity managed a rueful chuckle.
He continued, "Maybe if I'd just shown it to you and without mentioning any tests or promises you made, asked if you'd like to get to know each other better, that might have worked. Even if it hadn't, it wouldn't have put you on the spot with an impossible choice like that. I admired your grace, and then squeezed it right out."
She shook her head, and looked down to the ground. "I... had certain requirements. Oh all right, I'll say it. You're not a unicorn. It mattered."
The glassblower could not help but notice the past tense, but tempered his enthusiasm. It had not served him well up to this point.
She, wrapped in her own thoughts, shook her head. "So, how do you think you know me so well?"
"Because you're not the only one who looked in the mirror. And when I looked in the mirror, I saw a lovestruck fool, pining after unattainable grace. I didn't see an idiot who hurt and trapped the one he admired, so she had little choice but to reject him, the only other alternative being to bind herself to a rather scary individual she didn't know."
After a moment's pause, he said, "I thought it reflected who you really are. It reflects who you are afraid you are. That's why it rang so true, and hurt so much, while also being completely wrong."
She stared, reinterpreting, for a minute.
He softly added, "If you're afraid of being dishonest and a bad pony... you probably aren't. Well, not too much."
She shook her head. "I promised to love you."
"Only because I trapped you, misused your challenge."
Her eyes widened. "Misused?"
"Yes. Your challenge didn't promise that you would love the first great craftsman who came along. But that's how I treated it, denied you the rest of your judgement."
He got up. "Well, now that I've hopefully undone what I can of the harm I caused you, good day."
"Wait!"
Duplex Fields' "Badass Waterwheels" (Horse Voice's "The Writing On The Wall")
Rainbow Dash looked up from the cornuscript, puzzled. "I don't get it."
Twilight Sparkle sighed. "The tomb wasn't a tomb, except for those who invaded it. Her crew dies of radiation sickness over the next month."
"Woah, woah," said Rainbow, taking to the air, "You're telling me this isn't a curse?"
"No, it's a natural physical phenomenon. Mare-ie Curie discovered-"
"Too much science," interrupted Rainbow, "Talk smaller."
Twilight sighed. "There are rocks which are constantly shooting out invisible fiery poison."
Rainbow landed again. "In real life, or just in your story?"
"In real life. In fact, the math says that if enough of these rocks are gathered together, they'll make enough heat to boil water and turn a turbine."
"Huh. So the ancient civilization made these badass waterwheels and toasted themselves?"
"Pretty much."
"So how does Daring escape? Does the doctor know of an antidote that she has to find in a crumbling temple?"
"No."
"Can she find a cure in the writing on the walls?"
"No."
Rainbow grimaced. "You're telling me that Daring Do.... dies? That's horrible! How can you do that to her, Twilight?"
"It's not canon," said Twilight, annoyed.
"Well of course she doesn't get hit by a cannon, she dies of fire rocks that you put there to kill her. Why would you kill Daring Do?"
"It's just a story, based on a story," said Twilight, now exasperated. "Write your own if you want her to live."
"What?" said Rainbow, wings flared, "I can write my own Daring Do stories?"
"Sure. And if you join the fan club, you can get them published in our mailing. You'd like the other stories," Twilight said, pulling a mimeographed stack of papers from a shelf of her reading parlor. "They're mostly adventures with good endings. I just went with the death angle for a haunting tale."
Rainbow flipped through the stack quickly. "Um, Twilight? Why is Daring Do kissing Ahuitzotl in this drawing?"
Twilight blushed. "That's fan art, and not all of it is like that."
Rainbow flipped through a few more pages. "Too bad. I kinda like it."
PoweredByTea's "All A Dream" (Skywriter's "Martial Bliss")
Shining Amour jerked bolt upright in his bed, his heart racing and his lungs sucking in as much air as they could take. Beside him, Cadence shifted under the blankets.
"Shining?" she asked softly into the pillow, obviously still half asleep. Even now, with no make-up on and drooling slightly onto the bedding, she was beautiful. She was also intelligent, kind and had a such zest for life that she made Shining feel more alive just by being in her presence. He was, he remarked to himself once again, an incredibly lucky colt. He wasn't quite sure what he had done to deserve her, but by the Sun and Stars he hoped whatever it was he was doing, he could keep doing it.
However, in the wake of the dream, a new thought wormed its way into his head, one that he knew would be impossible to shake. It was the kind of thought that, once considered, would return unbidden weeks or months later, probably quite randomly and at the oddest moments.
Was his beautiful, intelligent, kind wife also a suitably deadly projectile weapon?
"It's nothing dear," he said as he settled back into a comfortable sleeping position, "I just had a strange dream. Go back to sleep."
"Hummmmm," said Cadence unintelligibly, oblivious of everything. Beside her, Shining closed his eyes, yet after a few minutes he found he was unable to find sleep.
He did the only thing he could do.
He rolled over to get a better look at his wife and began to consider the question that had been thrust upon him.
Georg's "Dear Beloved Granddaughter" (Bad Horse's "Fluttershy's Night Out")
I was most distraught to hear of your recent meeting with an individual with low respect for our beloved family. It is with the utmost of concern for you, my most beloved of grandchildren, that I asked a number of my associates to look into the matter.
We were deeply saddened to find out that he had been placed in the Canterlot General Hospital, Dermatology Wing due to an an unfortunate accident resulting in the need for extensive skin grafts. My associates assure me that he regrets his actions to you most sincerely, and shall never darken your doorstep again.
We have sent a flower to his hospital room for you, so there is no need for you to trouble yourself.
Your loving Grandmother, Petunia "Kneebreaker" Posy
PS: I have included a rug made to the exact color of this heartbreaker's coat, which you may place upon your front doorstep of your delightful home. Think of your loving family every time you wipe your hooves on him it.
"You know how you told me not to use that cellulose phone to spell-check my Daring Do fanfic?"
"(Sigh.) I'd been wondering where it went. You did, didn't you?"
"Yyyyyyyeah."
"Look, I understand how addictive the other world's technology can be, but we really need to keep all of its artifacts secret. Just give it back before anything happens to it, and we can pretend this never happened."
"I, uh … kinda can't."
"Dash, what do you me—AAAAAAAAH! What HAPPENED to this?!"
"I, uh … kinda might have gotten mad and thrown it."
"At what, a running wood chipper?"
"No. Off the edge of Cloudsdale."
"For the love of Sun, why?"
"Did you SEE what it did to my story?! Listen to this! 'Darling Do top-hoods through the mushy horrid ores of the subtle raining Templar, hooding her breach as she snakes past the zebra can wart ions.' It's word salad!"
"… Dash, let me introduce you to a little concept called 'autocorrect' …"
GhostOfHeraclitus' "Who We Are, The Princesses Would Destroy" (kits' "Who We Are")
I don't know how. They just showed up one day. The little gray unicorn with an expression like a mournful dog, and the white pegasus, with a slick-looking mane, and tenseness around his eyes. They asked around and, of course, ponies told them where I was. Why wouldn't they?
I didn't try to run. There wasn't anywhere I could run to.
"How did you know? That it was me, I mean," I ask. I'm cold. Colder than I've ever been. Colder for knowing a touch of warmth, a warm hug of friends — true friends — before this. I won't fight. I won't dishonor them by doing that. I hope it doesn't hurt.
They've cornered me on a dusty trail leading out of town. I wasn't trying to run, I really wasn't. I just wanted to see as much of Ponyville as I could before they ... before it happens.
The short one regards me for a second, not unkindly, his deep-set eyes of faded gold looking tired. Then he speaks.
"We are the Civil Service, " he says. "Well, not just us, obviously. We know everything. Or try to. Once we thought to look it wasn't difficult."
"And you found out that I am a —"
"Was."
"What?"
"You were a changeling."
"What," I say again, shocked. What ... what does he mean? Is this some sort of cruel joke?
"You were a changeling. Past tense. But as of," he says, checking his pocket-watch with exaggerated care, "08:13 this morning you are a pony."
"What?" I sit onto the ground suddenly as my hind legs just give up. It's too much to even … I was expecting to die, not … not whatever is happening. Noticing my distress, he helpfully proffers a thick sheaf of papers.
"See? All nicely official. Signed by — ooh, a whole bunch of ponies. That's the princess. That's another princess. That one's me. I'm not a princess, granted, but still."
"What?"
"We can't have a changeling as an element of harmony. The House would have a fit. The national security implications would be catastrophic."
"Wh—"
"Please stop saying 'what,' miss."
I try to think of other words but they won't come. "I — I'm sorry. But —"
"Well, you can't be a changeling, so we made you a pony. All official-like. And tomorrow morning Princess Celestia can address the joint session of the House of Commons and the Council of Lords, with the whole government lined up in front of her and with Princess Luna — way past her bedtime — beside her, and tell ponykind in general that all the Elements of Harmony are ponies and not lie."
"But —"
"The Princess doesn't lie. Neither of them."
"But I — I'm not a —"
"Ever, miss. Ever. But if you disagree about being a pony, you are free to complain. Right of petition. Comes free with your shiny new Equestrian citizenship. I'd do it around eleven or so in the morning. Her best mood. If she offers you tea, accept. Best tea in Equestria."
I sit in silence for a while with the gray one still holding out the papers patiently and the white one flying above in lazy spirals, keeping watch. I try to think of something to say, something that isn't 'what,' something a smart ... pony might say, something right, but all I can think of is a simple question.
"Why?"
"Why, miss? Political expediency and intricate intrigue, in part, but mostly because you are one of her little ponies, species be damned."
PoweredByTea's "The Duel" (Skywriter's "The First Time You See Her")
"So," said Twilight, letting the word hang in the air, her perpetual air of bright enthusiasm gone. "I can't believe it's come to this."
"Neither can I, sister, yet here we stand," replied a grim-faced Shining Armour.
Rarity backed away just a little more, retreating to the other side of a low wall and subconsciously placing a comforting hoof on Fluttershy's shoulder. The pegasus was already cowering behind a flower pot and Rarity didn't blame her. The air hummed with magic. It was positively humbling.
Twilight lowered her head in challenge and a bright bar of solid light burst from her horn towards Shining. It shone like liquid metal, casting stark shadows despite the midday sun. It was over in a moment and Rarity found herself blinking away a painful green after-image. She looked up...
To see Shining Armour surrounded by a purple shield, apparently unharmed.
"What?" Twilight cried. "You weren't supposed to be able to block that! My book said that only Cuend—"
Shining tilted his head to one side. "Barriers are my speciality for a reason, Twilight. Now let's see what you learned from the Princess."
Shining's horn grew brighter, and a bolt of lightning shot towards Twilight. Rarity winced, shutting her eyes, but no scream came from her friend. Cautiously, she peered out. Twilight stood, also unharmed, surrounded by her own purple barrier.
"Barriers may not be my speciality, but I certainly know how to erect one. You're going to need to do much better than elementary lighting spells to get the better of me, Shining." Somehow, Twilight ended up being so very adorable when she was trying to be smug. Even now, Rarity had to suppress an urge to go and pat her on the head.
Both combatants stared at each other.
And kept staring.
"So..." said Shining.
"Um..." Twilight rubbed the grass with a front hoof.
"It appears we can't actually hurt each other," Shining said.
"Well, this is awkward," Twilight observed.
Beside Rarity, Fluttershy peeked up over the wall. Rarity could sense, more than see, dozens of eyes peering out from behind curtains in the various windows.
"How do we settle this?" Twilight asked.
"Um..." Shining thought for a moment. "Funny face contest?"
Rainbow Dash, still holding her dolls, crossed her forelegs in obvious disagreement. "Well, at least I didn't ship a cheese grater with Lord Sombra!"
Twilight blushed. "That was an experiment in objective personification as it relates to romance and our ultimate purpose as an existential crisis!"
Sombra stared up at the ceiling, memories swirling like the wisps of essence boiling off of his insubstantial body. Memories … of her.
His gaseous form seemed to fade away as agitation roiled within him. Fade away, like our love, he thought morosely. Did I truly mean so little to her? Was I only ever just a way to put Luna to sleep while she attacked Equestria? His eyes shuddered closed. No. Remember the good times. The times when he could seep into her chambers, deep in the bowels of the hive, past the vigilant eyes of her hundreds of drones. When he could coalesce around her in the night, and wake her up with whispered words of honey, his form enveloping her like an insubstantial oubliette. How she would moan in ecstasy as his form flowed in, around, through her, caressing the secret places of the holes in her limbs, penetrating her totally in a way no fleshy lover could dream of, feeding her his love even as she struggled to breathe and suffocated little by little, her life in his hooves, drawing him further in with every little sound —
— until the day he arrived to find he had been replaced by a mind-controlled slave pony, a couple of drones with feather-fans, and a chubby stick of incense.
"It's not what you think!" Chrysalis had cried, leaping to her hooves. "I missed you too much! I needed something!" … but, no, he had known the truth from the moment he laid eyes on the whole sordid scene. There was nothing special about him, in her eyes. He was emotional food, served with a side order of a curious sensation that she'd finally found a way to reproduce.
He'd been replaced by an object.
Well, two can play at that game, he thought, rolling over in bed and solidifying a hoof so that he could tenderly stroke the smooth, hard edge of his new lover. What had she been to him, anyhow, but a way to feel his essence funnelled through a hundred hard-edged holes? Well, and a source of sexy and flattering sounds, but that was easily enough fixed. "Oh, Sombra," he murmured in a falsetto, brushing his lips to the cold metal of The Grate And Powerful Chryssy's … um, carapace. "Take me, you handsome and powerful tyrant, take me like you took the Crystal Empire, like you would have taken my hive if you'd ever decided it was worth the bother."
Sombra cleared his throat and responded in his usual suave growl. "Why should I, you worthless wretch? I don't need you. I don't need anyone."
"Oh, Sombra," T.G.A.P. Chryssy breathed. "But I need you. I need you flowing through me. That silly incense smoke was no substitute, I need your life, your vitality …" No. That was going to uncomfortable places, given the circumstances. He tried to push that thought from his mind before it could spawn any existential revelations, and tried again. "Because I'm so weak, I mean. You're right, Sombra. You're so strong, you don't need anyone."
Much better. "I don't. Which is why I will take you, Madame Grate, just to show everyone how perfectly fine I am with this." He raised his voice and shouted to the heavens. "DO YOU HEAR ME, CHRYSALIS? I'M FINE WITH THIS!!"
Then he dissolved the bonds that held his form together, settled into a fine dark mist, and with a lascivious moan that reverberated throughout the cloud of his essence, he flowed through the holes of his shiny new cheese grater.
Shaggy Dog Story (Skywriter's "Shipping Sickness")
The two princesses walked in. Or, at least, a radiant white princess and some giant rust-red ball of fur wearing Luna's crown. Here it was: the lecture.
"Celestia! I'm so sorry," Twilight cringed. "And ... er ..." She stared at the four-legged dust trap. "What is that, I don't even."
A canine muzzle peeked through the layers of thick fur. "We are not amused, Twilight Sparkle."
Celestia's helpful attempt to look stern wasn't even in the same room as sincere.
"Alright ... perhaps with the benefit of hindsight we shall find this amusing," Luna allowed.
"But you still ought to be more careful," Celestia added, finally managing a mild maternalism.
"Or at least target her next time," Luna muttered under her breath.
"Wait, what do you mean? Did I do that?" Twilight cast frantically through her memory. There were the wards, and the Bring-To-Life spells ... but to turn Luna into some sort of ... wolf-thing ...?
Celestia coughed and discreetly hornpointed at the lush, imported sofa Twilight had animated the previous night. There, draped over the arm, was the Easily Forgettable Pun-Based Magical Feedback Device that Celestia had predictably forgotten after her visit last week.[1]
[1] Only eight bits! Available now from MacGuffin industries.
"Oh." Twilight gave the princesses her best sheepish look. That explained it.
Wait. No it didn't. "Er ... I don't get it. Why is Luna a shaggy dog?"
Luna sighed and shook her head, then removed the feedback device from the Irish settee.
Celestia draped the slipcover back over the magic mirror and curled her neck around her former student's. "Welcome back, Twilight."
"Thanks," Twilight said, but her voice was oddly distant.
"How was your trip?"
Celestia felt Twilight's foreleg shift in a reflexive motion to hoof the ground, but it quickly stopped and resettled. "It was good to see Sunset and Sonata again," Twilight said, "but." A too-long hesitation. "Well, no buts. They're doing well. The other sirens are making wonderful progress in learning about friendship. It's just … I don't think their world will ever stop surprising me."
There it was. "Oh?" Celestia said conversationally.
"Yeah." Twilight let out a breath, then gave Celestia a smile that could charitably be described as being in the same room as reassuring. "You know, I ought to go see Cadance before we go back to Equestria. I'm glad you were here, but I really shouldn't delay you — we'll get to talk for the whole train ride back —"
"Twilight," Celestia said with a gentle smile, "don't worry about it. I understand." Then, because she had a feeling she knew exactly what was behind the haunted expression in the young alicorn's eyes, she added: "In fact, she and Shining Armor just sat down for lunch. Why don't you go join them in the drawing room, and I'll go tell the chefs to make food for three?"
The smile vanished from Twilight's muzzle. "I … ah … I mean, I'm not hungry …"
Celestia locked eyes with Twilight for a moment, subtly sculpting her expression. Her mouth holding its relaxed smile, but with a tiny sag at the corners; a slight downturn in the corners of the eyes; a lateral tightening of the cheeks to suggest wrinkles; a slowdown in the shifting of her hair. A subliminal sympathy, with even deeper hints of worry and weariness.
"Let's take a walk," she said, precisely in the center of the dead zone between suggestion and invitation and order, and turned away, already lighting her horn to open the door.
It took Twilight eighty-seven paces to speak up, which beat Celestia's expectations.
"The first time I looked at what they call a 'burger' … it clearly wasn't the hayburger we eat in Equestria," she said. "I'm not stupid — it was meat between the buns. And I'm no stranger to the idea of meat. I mean, Rarity's cat eats fish, and gryphons even eat land animals."
Celestia nodded silently. Twilight would feel better about it if she could get it all out at her own pace.
"But everyone ate them. Some days, it was the only entrée the cafeteria served! When I learned its full name was a 'hamburger,' I kinda stopped there; once I figured out what the meat was, I didn't want to know more." Twilight exhaled. "That sounds so weird to say. But it's only natural, right?"
"Perfectly so. Thinking like a carnivore is uncomfortable."
"Right," Twilight said. "But I did try one. It was part of the human experience, after all. And then, yesterday, it came up in conversation as we were playing a trivia game —" Twilight whirled to face Celestia, eyes wet — "it's ground-up cows! They call it a ham-burger, but it used to be a bovine, with thoughts, and feelings, and — and — oh, stars, I'm a cannibal, I'll never be able to attend Bessie's poetry readings again —"
Celestia, who had been discreetly casting a silence bubble around them while Twilight talked, interrupted her with the gentle touch of a hoof to her shoulder. She was getting more worked up than Celestia had expected; best, perhaps, to lance the boil.
"And it tasted wonderful," Celestia said conspiratorially, "didn't it?"
Twilight's pupils shrank as she went rigid. "What?!" she managed to squeak.
A smile spread across Celestia's muzzle. "That's what you're not telling me. The secret shame of it is how enjoyable a hamburger is. Trust me, Twilight, I know."
Twilight's cheeks had gone quite an unnatural shade of hot purple before she managed to stammer out, "So you've been through the mirror yourself, then?"
"Let's just say, for the moment, that I've been to the human world."
A glimmer of hope flickered in Twilight's eyes. "Then maybe you can explain," she said. "What bothers me the most is that … well, taste is a physiologically driven response; the body craves foods that meet its dietary needs. And my body most certainly was different in the mirror universe, so it only made sense that it would have tasted good at the time! But last time I returned … even while I was here, back in pony form, with my brain and my senses back to normal … I kept craving meat. How is that even possible?"
Celestia's thoughts flashed back to that row of growth tubes that had decanted the first of the ponies. To the desperate struggle to keep them viable, in that first harsh winter before the grasses grew back. To her explorations of the ruined city, and the raided fast-food freezers. And, finally, to the thin slurry of blended bread and meat that had been poured into the feeding-pumps, in a final desperate gamble after the others had given up the project as hopeless.
Father had understood, but Father was gone. Luna, bless her heart, had been their conscience, voicing her disapproval of the situation early and often, and never quite reconciled with Celestia about it. Discord … the less said of his approval, the better. But now, for the first time in millennia, Celestia's heart stirred: maybe she could finally talk about it with somepony who understood.
Celestia steadied herself with a long, deep breath. "Twilight," she said, "Let me tell you about your earliest ancestors …"
RobCakeran53's "Saving the Records" (TheBandBrony's "Save The Records")
Once upon a time, when I was about eight years old, I was walking around my subdivision. I had no real destination, or even remember what I was doing. I was just walking, looking around at the houses, and staying off to the opposite side of the road to avoid the stench of the garbage cans. But then something caught my eye. A shiny black disk was sticking out of one of these trash cans. What it was that drew me towards it, I'll never know, but I did. I pulled it out of the can, trying to figure out just what in the world this thing was. It had words and names on it too, like a CD. And most of the surface was covered in small grooves that I'd run my fingernails in. It felt funny.
So, I carried it home with me. Occasionally tossing it like a Frisbee into random yards, then retrieving it, and continuing home. Once I'd gotten there, my grandmother whom was visiting us from South Carolina was first to see me down the driveway.
"What do you have there, Alex?" She asked me.
"I don't know, some sort of Frisbee disk." I had guessed.
"Oh no no no, young man. That there is a record album."
I had no idea what that meant, so she explained it to me.
"You see, that there disk plays music."
What? How could that be? Music came from the radio, or the CD disks, or those annoying cassette tapes. How could something this big fit into one of those? I told her as such, and she just laughed. Several minutes later, we were traveling in her van to some place called a "storage vault". I later learned that upon my grandfather's death when I was only two, she boxed everything up they owned, put it into a storage locker, and she moved to South Carolina. The exact reason why, well she never did tell me.
Anyway, we get there, to this storage locker, and she opens it. It was the first time in six years, since my grandfather whom I'd never known, that this locker had been opened. She searched for an hour in the mess of boxes and antique furniture, until finally she found what she was looking for. Too heavy for one of us, I helped her carry it into her van. She closed the vault, we got in the van, and went back home.
I helped her carry that box into my bedroom, stuffed to the brim of old, abused toys and whatever else I would find that I found curious. She opened it, and removed three things. The first two, matching brown boxes with a cloth front, she placed on the floor near a plug outlet. Then she pulled out a bigger contraption, which looking at the front of it was some sort of radio. But it was HUGE! Why would a radio be so big compared to mine or my sisters? She'd hooked it up, plugging the two boxes into it, and turned it on.
Sure enough, music came on the radio. Then she turned a knob on it, lifted off the dark plastic cover, and there sat something I'd never seen before. She called it a turntable, and this was how that disk I found was played. I handed it to her, she turned on the player; I watched as it began spinning around in circles, trying to read the words on the disk but failing. Then, she took a long arm and placed it on the disk.
It made all these awful cracking and popping noises, but then, I heard music playing. This was the first song I'd ever heard on a record before. At the time, I wasn't too sure what kind of music it even was. No one singing words, just instruments I had no idea the names of. We listened to the entire first side, and one song I asked to hear again. That would forever become my favorite song. Of course, at the time, I didn't realize that I would like all these kinds of songs from the era. Just that I liked this song.
So as the years rolled by, I would acquire more records at garage sales. Random ones usually, that I didn't know who they were but I figured I'd have nothing to lose regardless. I got some by Chicago, Jim Croce, Neil Diamond, etc. Mostly sixties and seventies stuff. Then came the tenth grade, and in our social studies class, we were tasked with taking a song and breaking down its lyrics, explaining what the meaning was behind the song.
Everyone in the class pretty much knew what they wanted to do. Whatever the craze was in the early 2000s. But I wanted to do something different, be different. I had acquired a portable record player in my travels, so naturally I knew I had to be the one oddball to bring it in. The only question was, just what song? I listened through my records like a madman, only having the weekend to complete the task. I had, oh, maybe sixty records by this time. About 80 percent of them I didn't much care for, but didn't have the will to actually get rid of them. But then, I found that old record again. My first record, and it hit me. I knew what song I was going to do.
I listened to it for hours. I was still young, new to the actual thought that songs had a meaning other than the words sung. Eventually, yes, I realized it, I did my report, even taking in the portable record player and playing it for the class, in all its scratched and popping glory. That was the moment when I knew, I finally knew, what genre of music I enjoyed. Or to be more accurate, era of music. I began doing my research. Jazz, Big Band, Swing. I had to know more. I had to know the names so that I could look for these specifics.
The next time I went to a thrift store, I was ready. Of the hundreds they had, I found a dozen or so that were, to my knowledge, what I was looking for. So I bought them, took them home, and began listening to them. I had some Patti Page. She was alright. I got a Julie London album (which I still listen to on those rough days). But then, I found it. The moment the needle started putting out those song notes I knew I'd found what I was looking for.
Hence came Benny Goodman, my favorite musician, and he gave me what I now call my undying love for Big Band and Swing. I would listen to that double album set for hours, every day. I didn't care if I heard those songs a hundred times, I could listen to them a hundred times more. I took what I knew of Benny, and found other artists and albums. Glenn Miller. Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey. The Andrew Sisters. The list kept on going, and I'd find more and more of these records. I was set, I knew what I wanted, what I enjoyed, and how I wanted to enjoy them. Although, an event a few years later would change that.
I would say I was still a novice when it came to the knowledge of the music world, and quite frankly I still am. It had never dawned on me that like the CDs and cassettes and eight-tracks, that something could have come before these vinyl albums. I would soon learn, when on a trip to the thrift store, I met this man. He was buying a ton of records, ones that looked like they only had one song on each side. It was odd to me, for they were larger than 45's. I asked him, and he enlightened me on them. How they were before vinyls, only playing a single song on each side. Some even had just one song, period!
And then I learned just when these records were popular.
In the era of music I listened to.
I was shocked. I was listening to music on records, sure, but not on their true, original records. I'd always wondered what the 78 speed dial was for, other than having fun with sped-up vinyls. It was meant for these. So then I asked the man if he liked the music too, hoping to keep our talk going.
He said no. No, he didn't. I didn't understand, why would you buy these if you didn't like them?
"Because," he said, "me and my buddies at the gun range use them for target practice. These ones actually shatter and break when you shoot them, which makes it fun."
I was horrified. I couldn't believe it. These people were shooting these records, some sixty, seventy, hell, eighty years old! I was conflicted, because I could not deny I enjoyed shooting as well. But records? I'd never even thought of it. Before I realized I'd been lost in thought, he was gone, up at the counter and making his purchase.
Frantically, I searched the record boxes, in hopes I'd find something. I looked for a half hour, my father growing very impatient with me, but I persisted anyway. Finally, I was forced to give up. Up at the counter, my father bought a couple things he wanted, but I just kept on looking at those records.
"Young man?" The register lady asked me. "Did you know that man who bought all those records? I saw you two talking."
It caught me off guard, but said no.
"Oh, well he left one of his records here."
That ... was fortunate?
I asked her if I could buy it. She said sure, and two quarters out of my pocket, I went home with my very first ceramic 78 RPM record. I got home, switched the speed to 78, and even flipped the needle over (I knew you had to use a different needle for 78's, just not why at the time) and I played the song. At the time, I had no idea the importance of this song. Its history, or who the voice was other than Vaughn Monroe. But the song was soothing, Big Band, and I loved it.
Since that day, I have made it a promise that I save all the 78 RPM records I can find. Thrift stores, garage sales. Wherever they come up, I grab them. I will admit, I hated the idea that I was hoarding them from others, but to this day I've never met anyone else even remotely interested in them unless they wanted to shoot them or generally destroy them, to which I've had some choice words with. Some respect it, and even handed me the records to buy and enjoy. Others ... not so nice, but I won't go there.
The point is, I've taken it as a personal goal in life to save these records. Even the classical ones. These records were phased out in the mid-50s by vinyl, so by this point, they are very scarce and hard to come by. Some days I hit gold, grabbing twenty or more. Most days, I walk out with maybe two, if not any at all. My record collection now is quite large, with roughly 1,200 vinyl albums, 500 45's, and well over 1,000 ceramic 78's. I'd like to catalog them one day. Better sort them (although I'm trying as I go). But for right now, and I'm sure for years to come, all I really want to do is just kick back, put my feet up, sip on a cold beer, and listen to these lost treasures of our past.
And one day, I hope that I'll be able to pass them down to someone else who would appreciate them for what they are. A son, daughter, grandchild, maybe a young lad I meet with no relation that has that same curiosity or gleam in his or her eyes like I did oh so many years ago. I can't know, and honestly I don't want to. I'm content with just listening to them, still on my grandmother's record player. Enjoying them.
I apologize for this huge amount of text. It's just ... this fic brought out emotions in me I thought I'd lost long ago. It's hard to find people who appreciate music for what it is, what it was. I'm all for the new digital media craze, it makes listening to these songs easier and more convenient for many. I even have several of my records on my MP3 player for in the car. But there is nothing that can replace the authenticity of watching that record spin, needle bounce with the record, and those ever-annoying (but not unwanted) crackles and pops.
"I must admit," Luna said, wringing out her mane, "that did not entirely proceed as expected."
Celestia picked a piece of pondweed off her head and shook some water out of her wings. "True. We're no closer to learning which one of us Twilight is secretly in love with."
"We did, however, learn that she cares sufficiently to ensure our safety before departing."
Celestia nodded solemnly. "And that when she panics, she gets very good at lateral thinking."
Luna nodded. "That was quite a feat of magic." She stepped carefully up the muddy riverbank to the park, and examined the scorch marks in the grass where Twilight had been standing before her flustered departure.
A smile flitted past Celestia's lips. "She is the princess of it." The smile fell away from her muzzle as she looked toward the Canterlot Lower Business District, and she let out a long sigh. "Public relations, however ..."
"They have insurance. They will most likely take a bigger profit on their merchandise than if they had sold it. If any still complain, simply tell them that complacency does the soul no favors."
Celestia did laugh, then. "That advice is very you, sister."
"Thank you, I think." Luna touched a wet hoof to her sister's shoulder. "Shall I contact the weather team to re-divert the river back to its proper course?"
"No," Celestia said. "The least we can do is fix that ourselves."
The two princesses were summoning up their power to re-route the river when a Royal Guard dashed up to them. "Your Highnesses!" he said. "Help! It's terrible! We need you!"
Luna raised an eyebrow. "A Royal Guardspony asking us for help? What has this world come to?"
"Shush, sister," Celestia said mildly. "You know that their entire job is to stand around looking handsome. Now then, what's the problem?"
"There's a river dragon in the business district!" the guard wailed.
"Yes," Luna said, "that is not terribly surprising, given the circumstances. However, we are shifting the river back to its traditional banks, so if you will wait but a moment --"
"He's not in the river! He's sitting on one of the rooftops, fishing!"
Luna and Celestia exchanged a glance.
"Wait," Celestia said. "Let me make sure I heard that right. He's a river dragon, but he's not actually in the river?"
"Yes! The businessmares are panicking, the property owner is disconsolate, and --"
"Is he purple in color?" Luna interrupted. "Large pompadour? Short bristly whiskers and a goatee?"
The guard blinked. "Actually, yes."
"Mark," Celestia and Luna chorused.
"... Huh?"
Luna stared at the guard. "You have not heard the legends of Mark the Dragon? Even I, in my few years returned from the moon, have come to know of this beast."
"I just transferred from overseas last week. Who's Mark?"
"The world's only non-aquatic river dragon," Celestia said. "He made quite a stir in the biological sciences when he was discovered recently."
"He lives in the Everfree Forest, along the Destiny River, with his brother Steven," Luna said. "Except on holidays, when he travels."
"And now he's in Canterlot!" Celestia said, turning to Luna. "Do you know what this means?"
"Indeed I do."
"We can't divert the river from the business district now," Celestia said. Luna nodded.
The guard's jaw dropped. "What?! Why?"
"Simple economics," Luna said. "After all, a famous land Mark is a tourist Magnet."
GhostOfHeraclitus' "Elementary, My Dear Twilight" (PoweredByTea's "The Wrong Fork")
"And so you see, darling, I only needed evidence," Rarity said. "I knew it was Lady Trottingham all along."
"But how?" Twilight asked. "The evidence ... yes, it makes sense, perfect sense, but how did you know in advance?"
"Vanity. I understand it much better than you do, dear Twilight. A curse of my trade, though a useful one."
"Vanity?"
"The Star of Zebrica. Such a pretty bauble, with such wonderful colors. Swirls of green and blue, and in the heart a speck of ebony. Said to be the only shed tear of the —"
"But how did it tell you who it was?"
"If you stole it, perish the thought, you'd examine it, yes? We'd find you hunched over a microscope, peering at the center, trying to see the meshing of tiny gears, seeing how blind nature made such beauty."
"... I guess. Yes. It's fascinating."
"Indeed. Because you are you, darling. If I stole it, you'd find me sketching, hoping to make something that reflects its beauty. But, anypony who'd be ... small enough to actually steal it, would want it for something much more base. An adornment. A trinket. And, they wouldn't want to wait, oh no. They would want to see how it gleamed on them right away. As soon as they can steal a moment's privacy. And so they'd pick the colors of the costume to match. Green. Blue. And a touch of black. And who did we see in a simply stunning ensemble of olive green, sea blue, and a jet accent, mmm?"
"I can't believe it came down to dresses. I'd have never seen it."
"Oh you mustn't fret, darling. You study magic, and none can match you there. I, on the other hand, study ponies."
"Didn't you live here?" Rarity asked. "How can you not know who anyone is?"
"I — I never paid much attention to all of the politics stuff," Twilight admitted. "I hated it. Most of the time I was in the library, you see, and I was —"
"— That will simply not do, darling. You are a mare of substance. A true lady. Friend to the princess. You must be able to read the crowd. And how can you do that if you don't even know who the Press Secretary is?"
"I thought you didn't know who she was?"
"I didn't know. I saw."
"Saw? Are there nametags? Omigosh, did we miss getting nametags?"
"No. Darling. Darling. Look. Just look. It's obvious. Look at her. Fresh hooficure. Immaculate mane. Brushed coat with tasteful dyed accents. Understated and expert makeup. Her morning toilette must take upwards of two hours. And yet her dress is plain. Of the finest of silk, no doubt, but plain. Why? Money? No. Look at that brooch. Jade and silver, inlaid with jet. Expensive. Ten thousand bits if it's a penny. So why a plain dress?"
"Maybe she likes simplicity?"
"No. No. Nopony with eyebrows plucked with such, ahem, psychotic precision is fond of simplicity. It's all part of an effect, my dear. She plans to talk to a number of ponies who are likely to be dressed fine, and wishes to appear suitable but non-threatening. A professional of some sort used to dealing with touchy clientele. But with this little soirée being as exclusive as it is, it is safe to assume her job is something to do with the media. I thought reporter, but obviously she isn't."
"It isn't obvious to me."
"Really dear, look at the pony she's talking with."
"He's, um ... short ... and, really quite shaggy, and ..."
"The necklace."
"Silver and amethyst. It doesn't fit him."
"It's also the chain of office of the Cabinet Secretary. And look, he's talking to her without that guarded expression officials get around reporters. So. Not a reporter. That leaves someone in public relations. The press office, most like. And look. She's relaxed, not apprehensive at all. She's talking to the head of the whole of the Civil Service, and she's not nervous at all. So, of high rank. Highest rank in the Press Office is, of course, Press Secretary. And there you go."
"Now that you lay it out like that, it does seem obvious."
"It's a curse."
Themaskedferret's "Sheepish Talk" (FanOfMostEverything's "The Perfect Barnstorm")
Applejack, wandering past the sheep pen, pauses and glances over at a specific sheep.
"Hey, Lanolin."
"Yeah, AJ?"
"How'd you get your name? I mean, lanolin is something in your fleece right? So why'd your momma name you after the stuff?"
"Oh hello, Applejack dear, what brings you by? Lanny dear, are you being a good boy?"
"Yesss mooom. AJ just wanted to know why you named me Lanolin."
"Oh goodness yes! Well, it's a very funny story, you see —"
"Oh my gosh, Mom! I can't believe you're doing this! I'm not a lamb anymore. I'm almost a full grown ram."
"Lanolin Loaghton Gansey! How dare you be so rude in front of Missus Applejack! You need to apologize right now or I will give you such a butting."
"(sigh) I'm sorry, AJ. I know better and I should behave myself."
"Aww shoot, Lanolin, it's not a trouble. I know Apple Bloom sometimes gets a mite touchy about things too."
"There's my good boy. Why don't you run along and we'll chat. I'm sure I saw Tsigai and Polypay over by the far side of the paddock."
"Thanks mom. See ya, AJ."
"Children are so particular sometimes. One minute they're still stumbling around all knock-kneed and the next minute their horns are budding and they don't have any time for you."
"You raised a good one, Missus Gansey. Don't worry about that."
"Thank you, Applejack dear. You always say the nicest things. Now, did Lanny say you had a question about his name?"
"Oh shoot, yeah I did. I was wondering why you named him like you did. Just a distinct name, y'know?"
"Goodness, yes. Well, I don't have to tell you my mother was very perturbed when I didn't decide to name him after my late father. Of course my father was a champion sheep and changed his name to his show name. He decided being Mr. Afrare wasn't good enough, and he had to become Suffolk's Seven By Obvious. Hmph. As if he needed more ego boosting ..."
"Uh, Missus Gansey?"
"Oh yes! I'm sorry dear, I just get sort of distracted at times. Anyways. When Lanolin was born, he had the sweetest softest little curly coat you ever saw on a lamb. The midwife said if you squeezed him like a sponge you would be able to see the lanolin oozing out of him. So we decided that had to be his name."
Mrs. Gansey pauses.
"He's a bit sensitive about it."
Further Author's Notes:
I'm an avid fiber artist (I like yarn) so when I spotted that line, it sparked something and before I knew it, I had a story. This is my first actual written-entirely-by-me-on-fimfic story (though I edit a lot), so it felt appropriate for it to be on sheep.
Minor notes for folks who want to know I did too much research.
Lanolin is the waxy stuff in wool that means sheep don't get waterlogged and keeps your hands soft. Different types of sheep have different amounts.
Sheep tend to be judged on two main categories: meat and fleece. Usually they're bred for one or the other, but fleece-bearing meat sheep aren't uncommon.
Because I'm a dork, here are images to what a Manx Loaghton, Polypay, and Tsigai sheep look like. Afrare was me misspelling Altay and deciding I liked the look better.
I think Manx Loaghton are neat because they're one of several sheep breeds that have more than one set of horns, up to six. I wanted to use Jacob sheep as I love the piebald look. Their other claim to fame is that people think they're the sheep Noah took on the Ark.
Suffolk's Seven By Obvious is a real winning sheep, but they only have his picture in PDFs. I didn't realize that sheep have show names same as dogs. I always thought they were simply given numbers.
A gansey or guernsey is a type of wool sweater made for fishermen. The yarn is spun and knit very tightly so it would help repel water.
Princess Celestia took another sip of tea, watching the ponies in the Great Hall bicker and barter. These ponies held the future of Equestria in their hooves… Well, at least for a few more minutes.
“Do you think we should tell them we’ve arrived?” She turned her head slightly to glance at her sister. She would have stepped out there half an hour ago, if not for Luna’s request of ‘pony-watching’, as she called it.
The alicorn in question was leaning over the railing of the balcony, somewhat undermining her own attempts not to be seen. “Not now, I think the Lords of Northshire and Ohayo are forming an alliance. And oh, I believe the Duke of Eastern Whinnypeg has just declared war on your ficus plant. I told you this would be amusing.”
Celestia sighed and shook her head. “I find little humor in declarations of war, inconsequential as they may be.” She peered over to the far corner of the hall, where her former student, fellow Princess and now – as she herself put it – overlord of her friends was talking to a rather agitated Fancypants, Twilight’s assistant Golden Retriever keeping to the background a few feet behind her. Fancypants had almost been the first victim of recent events. The royal courier had found him just on his way to turn in his formal surrender, and it pained Celestia to think what had almost been lost to Canterlot and Equestria, had the stallion been stripped of all his wealth and titles.
She was equally glad for how well Twilight was taking the situation so far. As soon as they had announced the emergency meeting of the Canterlot ‘elite’ she had taken the young alicorn aside and explained the whole plan to her, for several good reasons; One reason was that Twilight was one of the smartest ponies Celestia had ever met, and her advice and keen eye for details could be invaluable at times. Another good reason was that the vital component of their plan was situated in Ponyville, her demesne, and needed to be notified of his part. Most importantly, though, it had prevented one of the panic attacks that tended to happen when the Princesses involved her in something but forgot to provide her with all, half of or even any details at all.
The Princess looked over the ponies in the hall once more, watching the fluctuating factions and occasional press pony from the newspapers before she spread her wings and gently floated down from the balcony, closely followed by her sister. She stepped up to the crowd of ponies and allowed herself a small smile at how quickly everypony fell quiet and turned their attention to them.
“Welcome, my little ponies, and thank you all for arriving here on such short notice. My sister and I have a very important announcement to make regarding the various demesnes, fiefdoms and other forms of land that many of you recently found out you rule over.” She waited a few seconds for the surprised murmurs to die down again, then glanced over at her sister for a second, nodded and smiled.
“To make it short, we have decided that the laws which made your families and clans the rulers over towns and their inhabitants are quite old and quite outdated. That is why we are abolishing them. All of them. Effective from this moment. Thank you, that is all.”
It took about five minutes for the outraged shouting to go from deafening to really loud. Celestia didn’t lose her serene smile for even one moment of it, nor did Luna, though the latter might have had a little more trouble suppressing her laughter. The sound-blocking spells they had kept prepared certainly helped, though.
Celestia waited another minute until most of the nobles had yelled themselves sore, then gently raised a hoof. “I take it by your reactions that you do not agree with this decision?”
“You can’t do that!” shouted one of the stallions in the back, curiously one that was impossible to identify behind the bodies of his peers.
Celestia put on a thoughtful expression. “Are you sure? Because I’m quite sure we can. After all, that’s what a Monarchy is about–“ A cough from her left. “Diarchy, I mean.” She paused again, looking over at where Twilight and her personal assistant were standing and watching from a corner. “Triarchy? Anyway, I read over our job description and it seems that, yes, we can change laws whenever we feel like it.”
The nobility seemed too stunned to be outraged for the moment, so Celestia continued to talk cheerfully. “Now, I really should have done this a lot sooner. These laws have been around for centuries, after all, and I have obviously been keeping them around until now. You see, the problem is that you all are, legally, the rulers of your own little countries, with some obligations to the Crown. That means that, while we can decide to change or abolish a law, you could declare war on Equestria and protect your rule over your region… at the cost of going to war.” Her expression turned somber. “For centuries this has been a problem, as there is not all that much land outside of Canterlot that still belongs to the Crown, and I found it easier to let the laws just quietly slip out of use. A miscalculation in hindsight, obviously.”
A large, deep green unicorn with broad shoulders stepped forward from the crowd, head held high as he met the Princesses’ gaze. “And what would keep us from doing just that now?”
“Ah, Lord Wallachington, thank you for your contribution. I had hoped that someone would ask that. Your family has one of the largest regions under your rule, don’t you? To answer your question: decency would come to mind. Common sense, a striving for peace, or even just respect for your fellow equines lives. And leverage.”
“Leverage?” The unicorn took another step forward, giving her a challenging stare.
“It really didn’t occur to either of us until one of our advisors pointed it out, but yes. Apparently there is a leverage that I just didn’t have the last time I faced this problem. You see, declaring war on the Crown means giving up a few of the little perks and advantages that come with living in Equestria. Quite obvious, I would think, considering you are declaring yourself our enemy. And one of those perks is the protection through the Crown.”
Several of the nobles cast nervous glances around themselves, looking considerably less determined than a moment ago. Still, over half of the crowd seemed quite confident yet.
“So your leverage is implied threats of what you will do if we don’t play along, is it?” Lord Wallachington glared up at them.
Celestia smiled back, while her sister behind her glanced from side to side, as if she were looking for something. “Oh, you misunderstand. I believe in harmony and strive to keep the peace wherever I can. I will do absolutely nothing at all.” She turned around and calmly trotted towards the back door. “If you would stay a moment longer, my sister and her assistant will collect your declarations of war and assemble a list of the ponies and regions that have decided they can look after themselves just fine.”
The gathered nobles watched her until she was through the door, none of them noticing that a young purple alicorn and her earth pony assistant had discreetly left the room as well. They did notice, however, the growing shadow that somehow seemed to loom just behind each of them.
They turned around one by one, to find themselves facing a well-known draconequus standing in right front of the exit, smiling through more sharp teeth than any self-respecting mouth should have and holding a comically large quill to a menacingly large scroll.
“No rushing, everypony, I’ve just gotten the week off and I’m not in a hurry.” Discord slowly bent his neck around the side of the scroll, leaning down towards the front row of ponies. “Now… who’s first?”
“Do you think that will be enough to prevent any civil wars, Prin… Celestia?” Twilight looked up from her coffee, shooting a quick glance at Golden, who was sitting on the side of the table between them and looking rather nervous for some reason. Twilight was always a little nervous because the Princess used to be her personal mentor, but from what she knew this was probably the first time her assistant had met the older alicorn, so she really had no reason to be.
Princess Celestia took a small sip from her own cup and smiled. “Well, I’m sure that they will learn a valuable lesson from this, whether they do it now or over the next weeks. And I’m sure Discord will appreciate the opportunity to have some fun without too many restrictions. You were right, by the way… Miss Golden does prepare an excellent cup of coffee.”
“Eeeeep.”
River Road's "Brave Little Pony" (King of Beggars' "The Surprisingly Complicated Love Life of Spike the Dragon")
Moondancer smiled and giggled at Lyra’s joke, though her heart wasn’t quite in it. She and her friends had eaten cake and other unhealthy foods, played games, talked and danced and done just about everything else they could think of that they could do at her birthday party. It should have been the greatest day of the year, and it probably was, but her thoughts kept going back to him.
He’s really late… Did he just forget about the party? Didn’t he want to come?
“Equestria to Moondancer! What are you thinking about?”
Moondancer blinked, looking at the giggling fillies around her. Twinkleshine poked her side with a hoof, grinning. “You spaced out on us for a full minute there. What were you thinking about?”
“Oh, uhm…” Moondancer glanced around, blushing lightly. “I-I’m sorry, I was just…”
“Moondancer!”
Everypony turned around to see a small purple dragon running up to them. He skidded to a stop in front of them, panting heavily as he tried to talk.
“Sorry I’m… late… Twilight… Celestia… Ponyville…” He took a deep breath, swaying dizzily for a moment. “I had to convince her to let me stay here and follow her later. She only agreed after the pegasi at the chariot promised to make a second flight…”
Moondancer blinked, trying to make sense of what he said before just giving up on it and grinning happily. “Well, I’m just glad you were able to make it after all.” She turned around to her friends. “Everypony, this is Spike. I know most of you have probably met him before or at least heard of him.”
The other fillies smiled and waved at him, though Lemon Hearts tilted her head. “Isn’t he a bit young to be here, though? I heard he’s still a baby dragon.”
Moondancer huffed and took a step forward. “Hey, leave him alone! Spike’s just as old as I am, and he’s at least as smart, too. Ponies just call him that because he doesn’t grow as fast and gets a lot older in the end, but it’s not nice.”
“Really? Oh gosh, sorry for that, then.” Lemon and the others nodded and filed back to the table, leaving Spike and Moondancer alone for the moment.
The dragon stepped forward, giving her a nervous smile. “Hey, uhm, thank you for that… I don’t think anypony has ever really stood up for me on that. I just got used to hearing it over time.”
“I-it’s nothing, really.” Moondancer blushed and hid behind her mane, glancing at him nervously. “Hey, uhm… Spike…”
Spike turned his head from where he had been watching the others, tilting it questioningly. “Yeah?”
“I, uhm… I…” She bit her lip. Just be brave. This is your day, just tell him! “I-I saved you a slice of cake!” She squeaked and pointed at the table where a corner of the birthday cake was still sitting on a paper plate.
“Really? Awesome!” Spike grinned and waddled over to the table, oblivious to the filly that was watching him with a bright blush and silently cursing to herself.
Moondancer bit her lip, watching the little dragon wearing a blindfold and trying to pin a piece of fabric to the drawing of a pony. The party was almost over and she still hadn’t managed to do the most important thing she had planned for the day. Maybe she wasn’t so brave after all…
“Hey Spike, did you bring a present, too? I never saw her unwrap anything.” She looked up just in time to see Spike take off the blindfold and the other fillies looking between her and him.
Spike blushed and fidgeted with his claws in that fascinating way no pony could ever properly mimic as he walked over to the table. “Well, I did have a present…” He pulled a battered red gift box with a large gash from under the table, rubbing his neck. “I had a little trouble with it… the present should be good, though.”
Moondancer shook the box a little, frowning when the sound of shards reached her ear. She reached into it and pulled out a small bag.
“I didn’t really know what you might like, so… this is the only thing I could really come up with. I heard fillies like gemstones, so I put together the ones I thought looked the nicest.”
Moondancer shook the bag and carefully slid the contents onto the table, looking them over. Several gemstones of different colors gleamed and sparkled in the late afternoon sun, none of them more than half the size of her hoof but all definitely pretty in their own way. Her heart beat a little quicker as she levitated a ruby in front of her face. If you turned it a little and looked at it just right, it almost had a heart shape.
“I don’t really have any experience at this. I’d understand if you don’t like them. Maybe I should have looked for pony candy instead of dragon candy…” Spike looked down and rubbed his arm nervously.
“No way! These are perfect!” Moondancer shook her head and turned around to him, then blushed and retreated behind her mane again. “I-I mean, they’re very pretty. I like them.”
She squeaked and flinched back as Dolphin Dream suddenly appeared right in front of her face, staring at her intently. “Something’s different about you…”
Moondancer flinched back a little, looking down. Then she looked up again and stepped forward, pushing the other filly aside. “Spike... There’s something I need to tell you…”
Spike looked up, giving her a confused look. “Is something wrong? I didn’t say something stupid, did I?”
Moondancer glanced back to see all her friends watching; several confused fillies and one widely grinning Dolphin Dream. Now or never. “I… I really like you.”
Spike gave her a nervous and slightly confused smile. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? You’re my best friend aside from Twilight.”
“No, Spike…” She took a deep breath. “I mean I really like you. Like like.”
Spike stared at her, his eyes slowly widening in realization. “Y-you mean…?”
Moondancer nodded, blushing. “I know this is kind of sudden… M-maybe I shouldn’t have–“ She paused and looked down at the scaly hand Spike had put on her shoulder.
“Listen, I…” He blushed and looked down. “Gosh, I don’t know what to say… I never really even thought about something like this happening up until now.” He looked up and into her eyes again. “I’m not sure if this can work out. I mean, it’s not just what Twilight and the Princess might need me for; if she sent us to Ponyville today, who knows where else she might send us someday. And that’s not even considering that we’re completely different species.”
Moondancer nodded, her legs shaking a little. Her throat felt dry and she had trouble keeping the tears back. He was right, of course. Nopony had ever heard of a pony and a dragon being romantically involved. Spike was the first of his kind to even actually live among ponies, as far as she knew.
“But…” Spike gave her a nervous smile and leaned closer. “That doesn’t mean we can’t at least try. And it does feel like something like this was supposed to happen today, if that makes any sense…”
He leaned a little closer.
The kiss was sweet. It wasn’t hard and passionate like the ones she’d read about in the romance novels her sister owned. There was no gasping for breath or anything like that. Just the chaste, innocent expression of affection, a filly and a colt sharing their first intimate moment with a member of the opposite sex.
Moondancer opened her eyes, staring into the darkness of her bedroom. She could still taste a hint of charcoal on her lips, a little bit of sweet bitterness that she knew was just a remnant of her imagination.
She paused when her hoof hit something hard and papery.
Her horn lit up for a weak light spell and she sat up, picking up the scroll in her magic. The seal was purple with a silver lining, something she recognized as the seal of the Ponyville Crystal Palace. She carefully unrolled it and began to read the words written in all too familiar handwriting; the only handwriting she’d ever seen.
Dear Moondancer,
I guess first of all I owe you an apology, if not a couple dozen. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for missing your birthday. I’m sorry for not writing and apologizing for that when I should have. I’m sorry for missing all the signs that I really should have seen in hindsight, and I’m sorry for talking about girl troubles with you when you were probably the last pony who wanted to hear that I have other girls to have trouble with.
All in all, I’m sorry for five years of being a dense idiot.
I asked Luna Princess Luna for a favor. It might not be much – maybe it just hurts you more and it’s the last in a line of really dumb stuff I’ve done – but I wanted to give you at least that one moment you couldn’t have. I just wanted you to know that if things had gone just a little differently… well, I guess I would’ve gotten my first crush on that day, one way of the other.
I should probably just say it: yes, I’m in a relationship now. I don’t know if it is love yet on my part, but I do know that she is a wonderful young mare who deserves at least a chance… Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?
I’m not sure what else I can even write here. There isn’t much else left to say, except thank you. Thank you for being there for me that week and taking my mind off things, and thank you for being there for me and forcing my mind back on them at the end. Thank you for helping me with my problems and sending me off to face them, when any lesser pony would’ve tried to keep me in Canterlot. Thank you for letting go. And believe me when I say that I know exactly how hard and painful that is. I owe you a debt that I will never be able to repay, even in a dragon’s lifespan.
I promise that this time I will keep in contact. I’ll write regularly and stop by for a visit whenever I’m in Canterlot. I hope that you find a special somepony someday who will make you as happy as you deserve to be.
Your love in a different past, Your friend forever in the present and the future,
Spike
Moondancer slowly and carefully rolled the scroll up again, levitating it over onto a bookshelf so it wouldn’t get lost or damaged overnight. Then she laid back again, staring up at the ceiling.
She smiled through the tears running down her cheeks, feeling something that she had been lacking all those years; a sense of closure. Some day she would find another pony that would make her heart flutter… She would finish her studies, find work, marry a handsome stallion and have foals with him, and find her own happy ending.
Tomorrow she would stand up and leave the house and be a brave filly again.
Tonight though, in the darkness of her bedroom, she was allowed to cry.
Additional Author's Note: Dedicated to King Of Beggars, the one damn writer on this whole site who found my weakness and got me to cry myself to sleep (in the good way, that is). Thank you, and here's to many more of your uncommon Spike ships. Because they're seriously awesome. — River Road
Kencolt's "Another Point Of View" (GhostOfHeraclitus' "Any Other Business?")
"You think Princess Celestia did what,'" the latest Alicorn on the metaphorical block not quite asked. Metaphorical because she didn't live on the same block as Celestia, but rather in a tree in a small town near the bottom of a certain magical mountain, where Celestia herself resided in a palace some two-thirds of the way up.
"Well... that's what the nobles in Canterlot were saying. At least until yesterday. They kind of stopped, but I was wondering... heh?" It was obvious to the reporter that Princess Twilight Sparkle was not exactly amused. It was also — slowly, admittedly, but speeding up — occurring to him that unlike Celestia, who tended to take a fairly hooves-off approach to matters, Twilight Sparkle was considered somewhat pro-active. And apparently, according to one of the ponies on the Magical Affairs Desk, had a remarkable talent for turning living creatures into citrus fruits.
(1) With a definite undertone of groan (2), if one listened carefully. Few did, because, well, the Twilight Growl was not reassuring. (2) Related to the Twilight Groan, which meant no longer out of sorts, and was rather an expression of near total exasperation with how bucking stupid the latest situation was. Considering the Princess's tendency to attract, well, not very smart ponies at times, this was more common.
"Grnnnnrrrrrgh." That was the patented Twilght Growl, a sort of half snarl, half sigh (1) that indicated that the purple Princess was feeling somewhat out of sorts with the present situation. "Look, I've talked to at least seventeen ponies today already about this. Most were from the government. A few from other papers. And one idiot who wanted a royal grant to put up aluminum siding onto the Royal Castle. Which I don't have the authority to do. I haven't even been crowned yet — that's not until next week!"
"Well, if not her, then who —"
"The will of Harmony. As in, the actual will of the actual principle. I had to temporarily cease existing as a physical being to do it too. Something about a tree — I'm still uncertain about that part. It was all very out-of-body experiencey, which made sense because for a moment I didn't have a body — while, I guess, Harmony was busy making me a new one."
"Bwah."
"I think I was also a star for a little while. That's what my friends say, anyhow."
"BWAH."
"I know. I should just print a pamphlet about it. Spike, don't we have a book somewhere on pamphlet writing ..."
"Well," Twilight said, "Princess Celestia says we've got a thaumic lock on your dimension, so as soon as the Elements of Harmony have a few hours to charge, we can get you home."
Star Power let out a long breath and nodded. "I'm sure the girls will appreciate that."
"Yeah," Twilight said, in an oddly subdued tone.
"Yeah," Star said, with roughly equal enthusiasm.
The whisper of the gears in the cuckoo clock on the wall was unnervingly unlike the cold mechanical ticking of Star Power's green-room clock.
"If," Twilight began after a few moments, as Star said "Not --"
Twilight coughed. Star cleared her throat.
"Go ahead," both chorused, followed by the synchronized slaps of a double facehoof. Both glanced up at each other, then burst into laughter, at first uneasy, then genuine.
"Whoo," Twilight said as the chuckles subsided. "If my life is really being dramatized, I really couldn't have asked for a better actress, huh?"
"... I'm just going to say yes, rather than let myself think about the existential implications."
Twilight crooked one eyebrow. "Are you still having issues with my conjecture that we're alternate-reality versions of each other?"
"Look, my brain is pretty full right now. Half an hour ago I would have said that this was flatly impossible."
Twilight nodded. "Whereas I haven't had that luxury in a while. Not after meeting Future Me and driving myself crazy with that warning from the self-stabilizing time loop."
Star smiled. "I remember that one. S-two, E-twenty, 'It's About Time.' I spent the better part of three days green-screening and talking to Post Production's hoof-puppets."
Twilight chuckled uneasily. "Yeah. That meeting got stuck in my head for months. It's so great to know that my most intensely awkward friendship lessons are being immortalized for future generations."
Star swung a forehoof, pointedly staring down at the ground. "Yyyyyeah. Uh, speaking of awkward, look, about that stupid princess request ..."
She was interrupted by the gentle touch of Twilight's hoof on her shoulder, and looked up to see the princess kindly smiling. "I promise, Star, there's nothing to be embarrassed about." The smile turned wry. "I see so much of myself in you. I know exactly how it feels to fanfilly like that. Did I ever tell you about the first time I met A.K. Yearling?"
Star felt heat rush to her cheeks, and tried to cover it with a giggle. "You and me both."
Twilight giggled back. "So, see, I know where you're coming from. I know exactly what's going through your mind, meeting an alternate version of yourself. And really, rationally, from an objective standpoint, considering how alike we really are, there shouldn't be anything to feel awkward about."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
"... Yeah."
"Ex-act-ly."
Twilight's hoof was still lingering on her shoulder. Star glanced down at it.
"I mean, if I have to be honest, that kinda makes sense," Star allowed. "Maybe we are the same mare, in some weird, essential way."
"Yes," Twilight said. "That theory's prior probability does appear high."
Star glanced down at Twilight's hoof again. It hadn't moved.
Twilight's cheeks darkened, and she cleared her throat in a way that Star recognized all too well.
"So," Twilight said, "does your world have a Kinseed scale?"
Additional Author's Note: The original story's author, GaPJaxie, adds: "Not that it matters because I'm totally not gay! But I am a virgin if you're into that so you know ha ha ha maybe I'm just joking of course but seriously you're very attractive even if it would be weird. Ha ha."
Lunae Lumen's "The Toughest" (Aegis Shield's "Human Rituals")
Spike and I stood in front of the one ‘foreign’ restaurant in Ponyville. I scratched my head a little at the black and red sign as the last train of the day screamed by. Spike held onto my hair since he was sitting on my right shoulder. I swatted at him a little, then let him slide down my arm as we approached the bouncer.
“Welcome to the Predator’s Lounge,” the lion-bodied bird at the porch said with a snarl. “How tough are ya?!” He leaned at me aggressively, even though I towered over him by several feet.
Pinkie Pie walks into a bar. Poking out from her frizzy mane is the familiar spiral shape of a unicorn's horn.
“Welcome to the Predator’s Lounge. How tough are ya?!”
Pinkie slowly raises a hoof to her head. There is a resounding CRACK as the horn snaps free. With a flick of her hoof, she pops it into her mouth and starts to chew. The crunching sound fills every corner of the suddenly silent bar. Each crunch draws a flinch from every unicorn in the room.
Pinkie Pie swallows. Several unicorns faint.
The nervous bouncer says, "Uh, g-go right in."
"Gee, thanks! Want some rock candy?"
GhostOfHeraclitus' "Carbon, Hydrogen, Oxygen, Nitrogen" (Bad Horse's "The Gathering")
It was, of course, always later, except at those times when it was before.
Night fell — well, no, one of her ponies might think of it like that — night was arranged, expertly at that, and she sat regarding the stars with a sullen intensity. She wasn't looking at them. She didn't need to. She knew where each of them was. Saw the neutrinos flux and flutter across the skein of space. She saw the thin tracery of the odd gamma ray, burning in colors ponies entirely failed to have words for. You can never get away from the stars, not really, but still she had been here, on this damp, dense rock for long enough that she thought of herself as being — defiantly — indoors as she gave the twinkling bastards her full and undivided attention.
Hydrogen.
It was all just hydrogen. And it wasn't even hydrogen doing particularly interesting things. It wasn't dense and inexplicably metallic or cold and passing through things you could swear were solid, it was just... piling up. Untidily. Eventually it caught on fire — of sorts — and then it just sat there, drifting across the main sequence lazily, until it exploded. Or just went out. Or tore open a hole in reality, as if that was any way to behave. She had seen it all before. Multiple star systems, dancing one around another, doomed waltzes between embraced Roche's worlds, and lethal tangos with black holes. She had leaped and swooped in the blinding glow of accretion discs and listened to the faint song of quasars.
Mostly they hissed.
Or buzzed.
Or sort of ... wailed.
Dull.
But here, now... here there were a few more things to work with. Mostly just four, really.
CHON.
Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen. She's seen them all, of course — had her coat made soot-black by the carbon winds of a dying red giant. Watched nitrogen being born in starhearts, traced the slow drift of clouds of oxygen spilling from the innards of torn-apart nebulae. But here ... here they danced to entirely new tunes, and in their ceaseless combining and recombining they made such things as ponies, and meadows, symphonies and love stories, paperwork, and hugs.
She liked hugs best of all.
She remembered Twilight talking about astrophysics as if she was there, dancing through the star-winds herself, and remembered marveling at a mind made of the leavings of glutton-stars containing, somehow, the stars themselves and the gulfs between, and — at the same time! — also tea and cookies and laughter and every frivolity under the Sun.
She regarded the stars again and snorted.
Second raters.
She leaned back, in the comfortable gloom, and then shot back an aggrieved look, as if the radio-wave hiss of distant suns carried, subtly modulated, an accusation.
"Sour grapes," she muttered, giving one particularly cheeky-seeming G2V a baleful look. "Well!," she grinned, gesturing expansively with a forehoof, "perhaps it is sour grapes, but I assure you, I am condemning them from inside a wine cellar."
Rhetorical victory against a distant foe thus assured, she leaned back again, and poured herself a second glass, cheerfully toasting the shabby and faithless nature of metaphors.
Horizon and FanOfMostEverything's "All Bark, No Bite" (GroaningGreyAgony's "If I Was Wooden Matter...?")
"Sis?" Apple Bloom asked, setting her apple cart aside for a moment and wiping her brow. "Don't the Everfree seem a little closer than usual?"
Applejack squinted and frowned. "Not really. … Maybe. I guess? Stop slackin' and get back to haulin' apples so I got some empty carts to buck into."
"I'm serious, sis! Lookit that big ugly tree. I almost tripped over its root in the path to the clubhouse this mornin'. I don't remember it bein' so close to the road." She shuffled her hooves. "It's kind of a safety hazard."
Applejack sighed, set down her apple baskets, and trotted toward the house. "I'll get the axe."
Meanwhile...
Pinkie beamed from a makeshift drum set cobbled together from cookware and her rimshot kit. "You mean I can really play as much as I want as long as I want?"
Granny Smith nodded. "Durn tootin'! Them timberwolves are more riled up than a mare with a hornet in 'er saddle, an' Ah can't spend all day bangin' pots. Ah figger an hour-long drum solo oughta put the fear o' Celestia into them right proper."
"No, not the fear of Celestia." Pinkie narrowed her eyes, her smile taking on a sinister tone. "The fear of pink." She clacked her drumsticks together. "One, two, three!"
Elsewhere ...
Rainbow Dash sat up with a gasp.
Heart hammering to the frantic, ghostly beat pounding in her ears, she unclenched her fingers from her awesome lightning-bolt sheets, rolled over the side of the mattress and onto her feet, and stumbled into the dark and dingy bathroom. She stared into the mirror in silence, in the dim glow of the LEDs from her electric toothbrush, until the visions of ponies faded from behind her eyes. Her heartbeat gradually slowed and receded from her hearing.
And yet pony Pinkie Pie's final shout of "ONE-HOUR DRUM SOLO!" continued to worm through the deepest recesses of her brain.
She shuddered.
Not for the last time, she swore that she would stop going to band practice and then eating ghost-pepper curry before bed.
GroaningGreyAgony's "After Saying Yes" (Defoloce's "Friendship Is Optimal: Always Say No")
As Gregory awoke from uneasy memories, he found himself in Equestria Online, transformed into a gigantic insect.
Celestia's smiling features shimmered and shifted under a green haze.
"Welcome to my hive, hero," said Chrysalis.
Ending Two:
Greg relaxed in a post-coital haze of happiness, gazing out at the starry night. Suddenly, he saw showering sparks at the periphery of his vision, followed by a bright translucent banner hovering at the end of his nose:
You Have Won The Following Badge: SHOOT THE MOON Score with the Lunar Princess! 25,000 Bits!
He snorted, but was suddenly overwhelmed by a dazzling burst of fireworks before his eyes as the banner unscrolled further:
Additional Badge! FUN IN THE SUN Score with the Solar Princess! BONUS MULTIPLIER! 125,000 Bits!
Ending Three:
"I... I thought you said you were done with me," said Greg.
"I was done with the human version of you," smiled CelestAI. "Your mortal body could not match the capabilities of my Ponybots. However, since my Ponybots are controlled by my ponies themselves, there is no reason why you should not also control one, and thus proceed with the lifesaving work that you value so much. In fact, since I have calculated an... encouraging probability that you will accept my offer, I have already designed a special Ponybot just for you! Please bear in mind that I was constrained by having to select a character from the series, so that it would be familiar to those whom you hope to rescue..." CelestAI flipped up a curtain to reveal the result.
Greg stared for a while. "Okay, he looks tough enough, and the crewcut mane is cute, but why are the wings so tiny?"
And then the GAU-12 Equalizers unfolded and Greg couldn't stop smiling.
Ten minutes later in the light of the new dawn, a single unicorn left the small group still discussing the ritual down in the bailey and vanished into the castle. Far above, Princess Twilight Sparkle watched, still respectfully silent next to the temporarily unemployed Sun and Moon. It was a moment she had dreaded far more than the ritual itself, and there was no way to prevent it other than flying away into the bright sky and leaving the inevitable confrontation to Celestia and Luna, who undoubtedly had faced far more embarrassing moments.
As the tapping of new shoes on ancient granite flooring neared behind her, Twilight turned to greet the young unicorn headed her way. She was far too young for this to have been more than her first circulum, and the bright and cheerful smile filling every single bit of her face indicated just how happy she was to have participated, or as Twilight's sinking heart realized from the tiny golden sun clipped to the unicorn's cape, to have been selected to lead the ceremony this morning. She stopped a respectful distance away from the three alicorns and bowed with practiced grace before speaking.
"This is such an honor, Your Highnesses. Thank you." Her grin became even larger. "With particular thanks to you, Princess Sparkle."
A response was warranted, and although Twilight waited for either of the elder alicorns to make it, they both remained stalwartly silent, with Celestia even prodding Twilight with the tip of one wing and just the faintest sly smile. Finally, Twilight Sparkle took a deep breath and said the words she had been dreading.
"You're welcome, Trixie."
Lunae Lumen's "Cutting Ties" (Darth Link 22's "About Last Night")
Applejack winced as her hoof slammed into the trunk. The apples remained stubbornly in the tree. She'd been working all morning, and she had nothing to show for it but a couple of empty baskets and sore hooves. She hadn't been sleeping well, and it was starting to show.
Giving the golden band on her hoof a long glare, Applejack wound up for another buck. THWACK! A couple of apples dropped into the waiting baskets.
It would have been so much easier if it had been anypony else. She spent every night nestled against that soft coat, listening to the faint sounds of breathing, barely audible over the relentless pounding of her own heart. Imagining the warmth of those hooves wrapped around her. Those bright eyes locked on hers. The taste of those lips —
Applejack yelped as she missed the tree entirely, losing her balance and crashing to the earth. She lay still for a moment, drawing a few shuddering breaths.
Her eyes drifted back down to the ring. With a wordless bellow that rang through the orchard, she leapt to her hooves and started tearing wildly at the ring. She slammed it into rocks and trees, she crushed it with her hooves, she tore at it with her teeth until her hoof was bloody.
Applejack finally stopped, chest heaving, trembling limbs flecked with blood and sweat. The ring was still there.
She wasn't quite sure when her ragged gasps had turned into muffled sobs. Twilight deserved so much better! Twilight was a hero three times already, full of fire and courage and magic, and learning wisdom from the Princess herself! She was the kind of pony a whole country could rely on! And Applejack? Applejack kicked trees for a living.
There was only one thing she had ever done that might have deserved a mare like that, but — green flames and mocking laughter — she had even bucked that up.
As the tears faded, a grim determination took root in Applejack. Maybe I'm not good enough. She hardly registered her hoofsteps carrying her to the barn. Maybe I don't deserve Twilight. She stretched her leg out, the light gleaming brightly from the golden band, untouched by the sweat, or blood, or heartache. Beautiful. But I can still do what's right. I can set her free.
Applejack swung the axe.
FanOfMostEverything's "Unleash The Macking" (Ponyamorous' "Unleash The Magic (Under Controlled Experimental Conditions)")
Twilight burst out of the portal, only stumbling a little. "I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner! I didn't get your messages until just now because I was caught in this time travel loop and honestly, it was the strangest thing that's ever..." She trailed off. There was a marked lack of other transformed unicorns in the area. The rest of her local friends were there, at least. "Um, hi? Where's Sunset?"
Rainbow Dash glowered and rolled a soccer ball under her foot. "Oh, she's busy with her new girlfriend."
Twilight blinked. "Um... good for her? I take it the problem with magic got resolved?"
Rarity examined her nails and said, "They say they're making progress, but they insist that it's going to take quite a few long nights to be sure." She rolled her eyes. "Long nights alone together, lit only by the magic she sucked out of us."
"What!?" Twilight's jaw dropped. "Are you seriously telling me that Sunset is performing magical vampirism? That she can perform magical vampirism in this world? This... I don't even know where to—"
Applejack held up a hand. "She ain't the one who did the suckin'."
"Yeah!" added Pinkie, "it was you!"
Twilight tried to process this. After a moment, she asked, "So, is her girlfriend actually named 'You'?"
"It's the Twilight of this world," said Rarity.
Dash scowled. "And Sunset left us hangin' to go make out with her during the last event of the Friendship Games!"
"We still won," Fluttershy murmured.
"Of course we did! It's our school, we're gonna know the layout way better. But that's not the point! The point is Sunset got freakin' seduced by the girl who stole our magic!"
Fluttershy shrugged. "Not all of it. We've been recovering since."
Dash crossed her arms. "C'mon, Shy, I'm trying to be angry here."
After a few more moments, Twilight said, "So, Sunset and my analogue are studying Equestrian magic in this world?" This got several nods. "In controlled laboratory conditions?"
"Probably more controlled than they are," Dash grumbled.
"And they're getting results?"
Rarity rolled her eyes again. "So they say."
"They did fix the portal," said Pinkie.
Dash scowled. "Yeah, after Twilight's necklace ate it."
It haunted me, the home I'd left behind, Its crystal spires and sidewalks all aglow. You fear the dark? Pathetic! Keep in mind: The lights you bear just make the shadows grow!
Mere weaklings, all! And thus I sought to take This feeble candle sitting in the storm And turn its warm translucency opaque: In ice, solidified; in dark, reborn.
But love, it seems, has strength I couldn't see; A fire shared by all in its embrace. In fact it's comparable to TNT I found out as it hit me in the face.
My horn thus bears a fate I would forfend: Embedded in a windigo's rear end.
The excitement and warm glow of the night behind her, Applejack waved goodbye to her friends as they each departed to their homes. Sometimes it seemed as if using an ancient artifact to save Princess Luna from the grips of Nightmare Moon was only a trivial side-effect of the Elements of Harmony, and the real magic was in the absolutely impossible things six ordinary mares seemed to kick up every day. She closed the door and gave the glittering gold-tinged bowl a brief pat before putting it back into the pantry where it had resided for more years than Applejack had walked the orchard, although she paused before going upstairs to her own bed.
Opening a paper sack in the corner of the kitchen, Applejack removed the replacement bowl she had purchased just a few hours before, checking to make sure the label was still on it and the receipt inside the bag before putting it back. Tomorrow, before the rest of her friends found out, she needed to make a quick trip to Rich's Bargain Barn and the Customer Service department for a return.
"Sheesh, Twilight," Applejack muttered with a quiet smile as she walked upstairs to her bedroom. "It's just a bowl."
Only, Only, Only Me (Corejo's "Only, Only, Only You")
The day ascends, the night is done, And sobbing sullies Summer Sun. So through the darkened halls I flow Unseen, like you, by everyone.
Whose tears these are I think I know. My lovely moon, I see your glow.
So frail, so pale, so wan and fey, A candle lit at peak of day. (What lunacy's behind your shine? Blind loyalty? Naivete?)
Come, comfort in my umbral shrine. In Sol-less solace sprawl, recline.
Love, let the void between the stars Recharge receded reservoirs. Love, purge the guilt and stanch the bleed And let the shadows seal your scars.
There is no shame in greater need. Perhaps, my love, you should secede —
— Oh, how you flinch! Oh, how you glare! I'm sorry, love, I shall forbear. Your sister's bond you'll never break — If only she displayed such care.
I sense a deep and ancient ache. We must address it for your sake.
I feel her name, love, burn your throat; Let shadow be your antidote. Let numbing darkness salve the pain Of every inch of lovely coat.
Expunge the insults of her reign Till nothing but calm dark remain.
My honeysuckle-darkened lips Sing sweetened words of long eclipse Until you smile in harmony. My honey, suckle darkened lips;
Drink deep my love — you can be free With only, only, only me.
Then kiss me deeper, tongue athrust, And let restraint dissolve in lust. Clench and whimper, clutch and moan, Arch your back — surrender — trust —
Come, love. Feel how you have grown. Soon no-one will neglect your throne.
Forget her sun's cruel hold of space, And — body whole in my embrace — Love, let me lick your bitter tears To cleanse your flawless nightmare face.
The moment of your justice nears. Won't it be sweet to hear their cheers?
Yes, justice. Justice! Long denied. That's why we'll loose the beast inside. The ones who care will understand — Your foes will scatter, terrified.
Foes? Of course! Was this not planned, To see you shrink and Sun expand?
I feel you tremble at my touch. My rage, my love: is it too much? It's only there on your behalf, To know they all mistreat you such.
You suffer so! How can they laugh? We'll craft from it an epitaph.
Your sister feels the secret thrill Of scorch and sear and burn and kill; Why should she be the only one? Tenfold we'll gift it back until They rue the day they chose the Sun! My love, my sweet,
won't this be fun?
Reminder: This is the final chapter of this anthology, but the NTFW project continues with Never The Final Word, Vol. 2 — now curated by FanOfMostEverything. Click on through to the next volume to keep reading!
