Based in the meme, this story is a collection of small plots. A character, having been broken up from another pony, comes to you in search for somepony to love.
You are a pony that experiences the love and trust of having somepony to love. A mare, having been torn apart from the hurt of heartbreak, comes to you in need of somepony to love I wanted to make a note that in this series, you will take many different forms: earth pony, pegasi. Each chapter is based on the premise that the last chapter didn’t happen and the next chapter won’t happen. So, each story is completely unreliant on any other stories. This series is based on the internet meme: doing hurtful things to your waifu. Each chapter is based on the assumption that that character has already undergone, her own “doing hurtful things to your waifu chart” and has had each of those items already happened to her. So, in these stories, you will be the pony to make her feel better. You are the protagonist. You’ll make her feel better. With that having been said, enjoy. “No man stands so tall as when he stoops to help a child,” -Abraham Lincoln. for my purposes, I’m replacing the word ‘child’ with ‘mare.’
You are a pegasus. Everyday, you fly home from your cloud-busting, job and you get ready to finally get a good night’s sleep. You fly home, wondering what food you have to eat today and what you want to eat after having busted so many clouds. You fly for several minutes before seeing a large group of pegasi busting clouds near your home. You’ve already punched your time card and checked out, but what does it matter if you work an extra few minutes for free. Besides, these ponies look like they could use an extra hoof.
You fly at a cloud near them and get ready to kick it. You look around, just to make sure that everypony knows that you’re a weather pony. None of them look at you, which you guess is a good sign. You proceed to buck the cloud, sending its particles flying every which direction. You look around for another cloud to buck, finding many others about 6 yards above you. You check to make sure that nopony else is busy with those clouds and you yourself go and kick each of them. When this long process is over, you look around and see everypony flying off. All of the clouds have been removed. Your job is done. Everypony congratulates each other on a good job, and you’re just about ready to pat yourself on the back too for having helped them for free. You start towards your house. Today was a good day.
As you grow nearer to the entrance to your home, just about ready to smell the sweet aroma of cloud, mattress, and dinnertime, you hear struggling noises and stop in your tracks. Off to your left you can hear and see a grey mare pushing and bumping a cloud. She was struggling in vain with the last cloud, trying to buck it, trying to get it away.
You shrug and fly off and a bit downwards to help her, each growl sounding louder as you descend. You finally land on the cloud, finding it is rather big for one mare her size to be busting all alone.
“Need some help?” you ask, as if to be bit excited.
The mare raised her head, revealing crooked eyes. One of which was bruised, but each of them was shedding a tear.
Your gleeful smile started turning into a short frown and the mare looked up at you, ashamed.
She nods slowly, giving you the cue to tear the cloud down. She started flying the other way of Cloudsdale as if to shun being seen.
“Is there something wrong?” the obvious question question escaped your mouth.
The mare hesitated, before producing a hiccup and turning to acknowledge your question.
“Are you [hiccup] talking about my eye?” she answers, each hiccup being the one that happens when a person has been crying for a long time.
“N-No..” you say, staring blankly, “I mean that you’re crying. Are you okay? What your name?” you ask.
“I’m... I’m okay,” replied the mare, “My name’s Derpy.”
If you weren’t a pony, and weren’t completely distracted by your own emotions, you would have laughed due to how unfortunate her name was.
“Well, is there something I can help you with?” you ask, desperate to help her out, but easily determined, you do already think that she’s beautiful.
“Can you transfer usefulness?” She asked, rather demanding.
You think for about a split second before responding, “No,” again, you think about what she said and understood she meant that she was useless.
“What? No you’re not useless,” you insist, “I’m sure you’ll do great things. Who said you were useless?” you ask, suddenly realising that you’re being awfully interrogating for a stranger.
“I... No one,” she lied, completely ignoring you attempts at trying to keep her from thinking she’s better than she thinks she is.
"It's just... Why did he hit me?" She begged herself, very whispered, "I was just brining him muffins."
You couldn't help but overhear her sad remarks and exclaim in response: "I'd love to try your muffins. I'm sure they taste great!"
Derpy, startled by your remark, turned with a shy smile on the still depressed face.
She sighed before telling you what she felt. "I guess I could in it you over for one... I have too much anyway.'
You look into her eyes again, and nitric the crookedness. The adorable crookedness.
Immediately upon seeing your stare, Derpy turned her head away to prevent your stare, while in the same time giving the ground a stare that gave the impression that she knew her eyes were strange, but hated it.
You kick the cloud behind you and fly with her as she guides you to her house.
"Aren't you going to time yourself out?" You ask her, politely.
Her face cringed, "I forgot to time in," she said. Another expression wiped over her face. This time, it was a far worse hatred. “Useless,” she said, as if mocking herself.
The words she uses to describe herself startle you.
“Don’t say that. You’re great. You’re beautiful.” Your words to describe her now startle you. You’re still a stranger, and you’re telling her things that you’d only say on a friendly level or higher. However, the reaction she gives is much different than what you would have thought. Derpy blushed strongly. Her cheeks filled with crimson and her eyes gave in to a form of compliments.
“No flattery,” she teased, starting to smile a bit more.
“Actually, flattery is told as lie,” You say, “It is used with either sarcasm or used in an insincere way. I promise, I meant only the truth.” you say, to her.
Derpy blushed again. She looked far away from you in doing so, still making sure you saw no details of her misplace eyes.
The mare dropped a plate in front of you, simply offering you a muffin out of her own sweet kindness. You take it and start into it. The first bite was just about in the same minute as the last bite. The muffin was delicious. It was almost as if she had made the whole thing with combined memories of being a filly and eating these sweets made especially for you. Just smelling it reminded you of being home as a colt. It gave you warm memories.
Derpy stared up from behind the counter, barely giving you a glance of her face. Her eyes seemed to be perfectly made just the way they were right now when they stared into yours. Her eyes seemed to melt their way into your heart, before giving it an awful chill when she pulled them away.
“Why do you keep looking away?” you ask curiously?”
“What, you haven’t noticed?” she asked, again ashamed of herself.
“Well… I did, but I.. It’s not…”
“I understand.” Derpy interrupted, “You didn’t want to say anything about them?”
“Well…”
“Just say it, then,” she said, “Tell me about my ugly eyes,” Derpy put both her head and her hooves on the counter and drooped each of them unconfidently. Her cheek pressed against the countertop and her hooves clacked slightly as they shook, “As if I haven’t heard them say it before.” Her eyes filled with tears, but didn’t release any.
Silence came rolling in after Derpy’s small fit before you pitched in your opinion.
“I think your eyes are great. They’re beautiful, actually.”
Derpy’s head remained in its downward position.
“Really, I think you have beautiful eyes, Derpy.
“Even with my bruise?” she finally managed.
You hesitate for a moment, making the connection that the person she mentioned to herself before had hit her there. It stings you to think that that had happened to such an innocent mare.
“Y-yes, I do.”
She momentarily took her head off of the counter and shook it at you, refuting your compliment.
“No, really, I do, and-and your mane, and your mark… You’re beautiful, Derpy.”
“Why are you making fun of me?” she asked, now a lot closer to tears.
“I’m not,” you say back, “I’m not, you’re amazing… you look down at what you were just recently eating and then look back up at her, “ and you make really good muffins. You’re… You’re… perfect.”
Her face froze and she stared blankly at the ground. You decide you’ve announced your part and prepare to leave.
“I’ll just go…” you say, avoiding eye contact. You take the muffin wrapper and throw it away in the garbage can and put the plate in her sink. As you open the door, Derpy calls to you.
“Wait!” she yells, “Is this true? Do you really think I’m pretty?” you nod your head.
“I’m…” She marveled.
“You’re loved,” you respond.
The tears building up in the grey mare’s eyes finally found release as they streamed down her coat. You trot over to her and hug her as her arm flails for you to join her embrace. Derpy was loved, Derpy had a friend, and that’s the only voice that matters.
You are an earth pony. You spend your day thinking and thinking and thinking. Every second you wonder about what it is that you are going to say to that delightful yellow pony at the animal shelter. Not only was she incredibly nice to you when you first met her, but she was beautiful.
Your legs became wobbly just looking at her and you blushed a very crimson color. The ironic thing was that you couldn’t stop shaking even after she started shaking out her shyness around you. Afterwards, she sent you home to contemplate your decision and it’s been two days.
You would have sworn that you could make this decision in one day, however just thinking about going in to see the mare in buying the pet has taken up more than half your time. You thought hard contemplating the possible things you could say to a mare that was more afraid of you than you were of asking her out.
Eventually, your courage kicks in and you walk out your door to see the mare’s cottage and ask to buy medium dog. Fluttershy’s selection of animals ranged from many types of dogs, but when she gave you all the information she knew about them in one swift introduction, you couldn’t help but just take whatever sized dogs that she had. The medium one seemed the ideal pet for you.
You reach the cottage and gather your strength. “Come on!” you urge yourself, just about sweating, “She’s nice, even if you mess up asking her, she’ll still like you.” You doubt yourself. As you always do, you doubt yourself. You’re not the best at asking mares out, especially when those mares are terrified of you hurting them or being angry at them.
Finally, with a great amount of pressure put into your head to “not think,” you tap on the door. You wait patiently, forgetting everything that you had rehearsed in your mind.
The door is answered.
Your eyes slightly squint at the sight that you see. Standing before you is a white rabbit with eyes that paused on you as if this were something that it would do any day of the week.
“Dawh” you say at the site of the adorable rabbit that had just greeted you. It’s expression suddenly became really unenthusiastic as soon as you spouted the onomatopoeia.
Your thoughts on what to say are suddenly returned to your head and you realise you have insulted the greatly intelligent rabbit in front of you, and it thought of you as a stranger. This could very much cause a relationship flaw between you and the rabbit, thus you and Fluttershy.
You realise that you’ve been standing there staring at the rabbit now (who, by the way, probably thinks you’re an idiot for standing there so long), and is about ready to close the door on you.
You tap the door to keep it open and poke your head in slightly.
“I’d like to adopt a pet, please!” you rush to say.
The rabbit again tries to thrust the door in your face (still probably very upset over your earlier acknowledgement of how cute you think the small thing is).
“No! Let him in!” shouted the mare from behind the door. Sobs suddenly become evident to your ears.
The bunny in front of you slowly opens the door fully to let you see the full scene before you.
The mare that you had talked to days before was laying back, though slowly getting up off of her chair. Her eyes were bloodshot from all of the tears she had streaming from each eye. You immediately have a strong urge to cry as well.
She continues off of the chair and walks towards you. With one hoof, she reaches out for a hoof-shake, the other covers her right eye (Her right, your left).
You gently shake the hoof, and by shake, I mean grab hold of the already quivering hoof.
“Are you okay?” You ask, with your voice shaky in declaring the question that you’ve already answered upon gazing at her.
She sighed and held back several tears as she stared vividly into your eyes. “No,” a great squeak formed as she spoke, putting extra emphasis on the “O” in her response.
“Okay,” You say calmly, “Let’s just sit down for a second, then.”
You walk over to the couch across from where Fluttershy was just sitting. Her hoof covers the majority of her face, but you decide to help the poor mare get out of her severely saddened state.
“What [sob] dog was it that you were interested in?” She managed between tears.
“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about that right now, I can see you’re having a rough time,” your observations stun you. Did you really just give her the perfect “captain obvious” line?
There’s a long pause before the mare you recently spoke to finally speaks back.
“Thank you,” She answered. Her face was now completely covered by her hooves.
You only came here to ask the mare out on a date while you adopted your first pet, but instead you found yourself being the support to her in this time of unknown need. After about five minutes, the mare finally calms down from her low and takes one hoof away from her one eye.
“Are you okay now?” you ask her.
“I’m fine,” she says, before sniffling. “So… Are you still interested in that dog?” She asked with a bit of desperation in her voice.
“I am,” comes your response with great enthusiasm. It seemed at this point if you were to make her smile enough to be in a somewhat happy mood, you could more than easily invite her on the date that you so planned on asking her out on.
“Okay then,” she says, depressed, “right this way.”
It seemed odd to you that she would let you into her house at the time she did considering the terrible condition she was in. After sitting with her on the couch for a while, you come to the conclusion that she just really wanted one of her animals to be sent to a loving home. After meeting you for the first time, she knew that she could get you to adopt a dog. Hopefully you would save one of her pets that so desperately needed saving. The way she spoke to you before only confirmed your theory.
“We have three options over here for you to choose from,” explains the mare beside you.
She guides you out the back door to a plethora of animals. The chances were that she should have more than just three medium-sized dogs, but she seemed to have specialised in less-common animals. Her variety even included the rare: hedgehog, echidna, and falcon.
Before taking you very far into her own backyard, Fluttershy turns sharp to let you see the few dogs that she had lined up for you to see.
Each dog seemed to have some sort of disorder, but Fluttershy gives each of them a chance.
“Rutherford,” says Fluttershy, gently to the dog in front of her. The dog stood nearly at knee height, but walked forward with its tail between its legs. Its face barely hinted towards you, but stared almost unmoved at Fluttershy. Finally, the wallowing creature found itself at Fluttershy’s hooves and sat itself slowly to the ground.
Fluttershy blushed, realising that the dog’s shy movements could be considered a let-down for the dog, preventing it from seeming a desirable pet.
“This is… Rutherford,” Fluttershy managed, keeping her face from looking entirely into yours, only showing her one left eye at one time. “He’s gentle, and… He’s a great bedside companion...” Fluttershy’s emotions almost returned to her before she called all the other dogs up.
“Mutt, Jingle?” She called. The other two dogs showed up. One of them was small and white with a black spot over its left eye, which forced you to immediately assume it was the one named Jingle. The other one, was mostly brown with flakes of all sorts of colors meshed all over it. Each of them seemed quite fit to their names.
Fluttershy introduced each of them to you just as you would have guessed and both of them clamored onto you.
Mutt immediately had his fun with you. He put paws on your bare side and knocked you aside, to bring you to the ground in one swift movement. The other started towards you, but stopped for a minute and coughed and hacked hysterically. You stare at it for a moment as you get up off of the ground that you were so cruelly knocked down to. Jingle hacked for several minutes before finally spitting out a good chunk of some disgusting pile of leaves.
Jingles stares at its work and then looks up to you, playfully.
You almost can’t help but laugh. This encounter with animals that you plan to adopt probably couldn’t have gone any worse.
“Oh, dear,” Fluttershy cried out, “I’m sorry. I-I…” Fluttershy held her face in her hooves and turned away from you.
“I just…” she weeped out, “It’s okay if you don’t want to adopt any of them.”
You admit to yourself that this might not be the greatest display of future pets you’ve ever seen, but something inside you pushed into saying just the opposite of what you thought while eliminating everything that you thinking of at the moment.
“I like them,” You speak up.
Fluttershy paused her weeping to herself and turned to you from the other side she was before facing. Her new angle revealed her black eye.
“What?” She whispered.
“I’ll take all three,” you announce, assertively.
“B-but they’re...”
“I know, they’re strange, but when picking a companion that you want to have for the rest of your life, it’s not about what’s wrong with it. Yeah, this one’s clearly sick, that one has a mild problem with being too playful and that one’s uncharacteristically shy, but the things flawed about them just make them more enjoyable to be around.”
You stare into her eyes. You can now see all of her greatly hurt right eye and regret whatever incidence happened to cause her that pain.
'And I love you for your "flaws" too,' Finally you admit your feelings for her. Her eyes start to water with her own tears. She shies, adorably before giving her response. “A-and you think I’m...” She pulled herself back and reframed from finishing her statement. “You’re beautiful,” You tell her. And she was. There was no doubt that with whatever flaws she had, whatever things that she hated about herself or whatever it was that was bothering her before was part of what made her beautiful.
You are a pegasus. You happen to work in the high councils for the weather ponies. Every day you receive a problem and are to associate with your colleagues what course of action to take in order to ensure a balance in the ways of Cloudsdale. Interactions with Celestia are not uncommon and you find yourself flying to her throne room about once every week. After having approached her over several undecided issues, you grow accustomed to being in her rather accepting perceptional view.
Every decision that you present her with, she manages to place just the correct option to make her people happy. It was as if she could see straight into the future exactly what her people needed.
You arrive at the castle with a fresh order of business regarding flight rules around the tops of citizen’s houses as when a pegasus flies over such buildings, it causes disturbing noises. The council wasn’t able to reach an agreement on times of day when such a thing is acceptable or at what height the pegasi should be flying. So, naturally you are the one that ends up flying clear the way over to Canterlot to settle to issue. Again, like you always do.
You enter the hall of the great ruler. Usually you’d find her sitting high upon her throne and staring down to greet you with a meaningful smile. She took a certain pride in what she did. It wasn’t an immodest pride, but a pride that just simply declared a happiness for what she did, and that’s one of the things that you like about her.
How ever she used to greet you before, though became completely opposite the way she looks at you now. Her face stares down at her hooves and her mane covers part of her face. She doesn’t move as you walk towards her.
“Celestia?” you ask.
The princess raised her head and glanced at you.
“Oh. Hi,” she said, faking a smile. She sniffed, the sound echoing off the walls, giving you no option but to hear the cold noise.
“Are you okay?” you ask staring into the weary eyes of the immortal being.
“I’m fine, subject. Did you have new business to present to me?” another sniff echoed the halls.
“Um… yes.” you muffle, distracted by the odd behavior of your princess.
You take present the bill that you and your council has been working on and stare down at it as you prepare to read. Your eyes gaze at the paper and then at your princess as her face darkens.
“Your majesty...” you begin.
“I told you, dear, please call me by my real name,” Celestia starts. The circumstances that you have come here before on have brought you and Celestia to a point of friendship in which she recommends you name her after herself rather than royalty.
Her reminder that you are able to speak to her on a less formal level makes you blush slightly. You’ve always thought of her as important and not just as the ruler of Equestria. Every time you visit, she never seemed to give off the feeling that you were lower than her. She always treated you equally and started nice conversation with you.
As you look up at her, you notice the great flowing mane as it passes part of her face. It was as if she were trying to hide herself from you.
“...C-Celestia? I don’t think we should continue this meeting if you’re not up to it.”
“I… I’m okay,” Celestia gathered, gingerly, “I’m just…” You hear a whimper come from the immortal being. Her head lowers. Her eyes look to the floor.
You drop the large piece of parchment on the floor and walk over to her the side of her throne, ignoring the protocol of: “ask permission first.”
“I need to pass…” The princess said between gasps.
“No you don’t, the bill is just a simple problem,” you help, “ and whatever your is, I’m sure it’s a lot more important. What is it?” You more beg the last sentence than anything else.
“I’m just…” She continued. Your eyes dance across her face. Her mane wavers over her eye, but she still looks just as beautiful as ever.
“I’m not loved.”
“Of course you are,” you tell her, “You have many loyal subjects that love you. Your whole kingdom loves you.”
“Yes,” Celestia continued, “But what does that leave me with. I have all the love in the world. Everyone admires me and not a single bit of hate extends to me except from beyond my kingdom. I have it all, but I have no one to give the love to. I don’t have love if I cannot love somepony else as my subjects love me.”
You feel ashamed. You are one of her subjects. Had it ever occurred to you that she needed to love somepony too?
“There’s always your sister, Luna,” you suggest.
“She’s off with her coltfriend,” replied celestia, ashamed.
“Cadance?”
Celestia shook her head.
Out of pity for both her and what love you’ve felt for her, you try something more desperate.
“I will,” you say, you blush a dark pink after saying it, but realise quickly that you will. You will, you want to be the one that tells her goodnight, to tell her that you love her regardless of whether or not anypony else does. You’d gladly be the one to take her on dates, to kiss her when she wanted, to say “I do” while the two of you stand at the alter to a canterlot chapel.
You realise you love her in a very deep way and that’s all that matters now.
“I would like that,” Responded the princess, your princess. Her lips curled into a smile and she looks directly into your eyes. You put your hoof on hers and look back into your favorite mare’s eyes.
Everyone is loved Everyone is part of something great Everyone is beautiful to me.
You are a unicorn. One day, you go off to Rose’s flower shop to buy flowers. Today was the day you were finally going to ask out the mare you admired from afar in the kindest, subtlest way that you could. Lyra was pretty different from any other mare you knew, not that you know many mares. The matter of fact was that you were pretty alone. You were too shy to ask people out or start a conversation. You look down at two dozen roses and hope it’s enough to humor the mare you hope to make like you.
The mare only talked to you a few short times, but every time you saw her or looked at her... Perhaps every time she spoke to you it filled something inside you and helped you feel that you belonged somewhere. Lyra worked at a cafe across the street from a barbershop where you work and it is nearly five minutes before both your shop and hers opens.
You wait patiently. The door opens on both shops and you prepare for both customers and you prepare your nerves to ask a bold question.
An hour passes with no sign of Lyra. You walk to the cafe where Lyra works to ask where you could find her. The manager gives an address and you follow it.
As you walk down the street towards the mare’s house, you worry. You’re always over-thinking these things. “Could the two of you be considered friends enough for this meeting to not seem weird? Is she interested in someone else? What if she’s sick and can’t be disturbed? What if she really doesn’t like me?” These questions float through your head as you climb the sidewalk to the rather colorful home. You can see a railing on one side of the walk to the steps with a fancy doorbell that could easily be seen from the street.
“The house seems welcoming.” You think as you climb the steps. Still, the doorbell seems intimidating and you try not to think as you touch it. You cringe as the bell lets off a tone in the house. You were past the point of no return. If Lyra was home, she heard you. If Lyra didn’t want to go on a date with you, she’s say no: here and now. You don’t know if your heart can take it. You never have anypony to talk to at home. You have a hard time taking care of yourself. You’re disappointed with the lack of friends you make, everywhere you go, you’re not recognised because you’re too shy to talk to people and nopony besides your parents ever loved you so much as to tell you so.
You look down at your roses and hope they’re enough… and you wait. The mare never answers the door, but you can’t take the fall of not asking her. You’re fed-up with being alone. You need to ask her.
You knock once more and wait before opening the door and going inside.
“Lyra?” you call, “Are you okay?” A sniffles echoes around you and again, you think that the idea of doing this was stupid. It’s still too late, though and you continue.
“Lyra, do you need help?”
You walk upstairs to where you hear the noise to see that the lonely mare sat alone in her bedroom. the floor was littered in tissues and the sheets on her bed were bunched up around her. You use your magic to put all of the tissues into the waste basket to the side of her bed. Lyra turned and noticed you as you did so.
She quickly straightened up, giving you the words: “Oh it’s you… I-I didn’t notice you enter. I-I…” She rubbed her front hooves together and stared at the ground before grabbing a tissue and blowing her nose.
“I just wanted to check on you,” you tell her, hopefully.
A tear fell from her eye as she looked at the flowers you held and hiccups escaped her open mouth.
“What happened,” you wonder aloud.
“I...I....This.” she started crying again. Her back stopped being straight and her head fell into her hooves.
You realise that for some reason you have upset her. “No. No it’s okay. I brought you flowers.”
She continues to sob, but doesn’t take the 24 red, beautiful flowers you bought her. Laying them to the side of her, her sit next to her and give her a hug.
She puts her hoof over yours as you do so.
After a few minutes, she stops crying and looks at you.
“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” she apologised. She takes her hooves away from her face to reveal a large bruise around her eye.
“No. No, I’m sorry, Lyra,” You become distracted by the wound. Her face still remains its own beautiful self, but what pony would have the nerve to treat her this way. Her hoof still remains in tact with hers and you become aware the moment. You look down at it with some notice to the fact that it was an amazing thing to feel. It felt as if she wanted you here. Lyra notices you looking at the site and pulls her hoof away quickly.
“Sorry,” She weaped again, “I didn’t...mean to,” she puts little effort into her last two words.
“No it’s okay,” you acknowledge with more longing in your voice than you would have hoped.
“Is there anyone for me? Are you ever upset over the matter of fact that nopony loves you for long *hiccup* before they move onto somepony else?” She asked in her upset voice.
“I um…” You respond, dumbly.
“forget it,” she said. She put her head on her hooves which had been placed elbow to-knee over the edge of her bed.
“Actually, I do,” you tell her, while still confused at the strange pose she is taking.
“I just… need someone to love me,” she continued almost ignoring you.
“Someone?” you ask.
“Yes,” Lyra confirmed, “a human,”
“I...I could be here… for you,” you hope.
Lyra met your gaze. Her face slowly turned into a smile as you look at her admiringly. The mare looked gorgeous. Her beautiful mane moved perfectly to the side of her forehead and her eyes in a lovingly dilated setting.
“Sure,” she said as you realize her hoof has once again moved against yours. You look down at them and wonder how long it was they were held like that, but you can’t wonder long as the green mare bent towards you and kissed you on the cheek.
Her words echo in your ear soon after: “Of course I would.”
Everyone is kind. Everyone deserves kindness. Everyone is family to me.
Silver walked down the street with the one he loved. Although they had never been to each other’s houses and had only met on dates, Silver was never going to let his Octavia go. Silver would occasionally peer over at his mare as they walked to take in the sight of such a beautiful creature. He would never think to get rid of her. She was his Octi.
Silver stopped at the doorway to Octavia’s house. It didn’t look like much, but to Silver, it was a great place. It was where his favorite pony in all of Equestria lived. It was perfect-everything was perfect. He had everything he wanted, no doubt he was the luckiest stallion in Equestria. Octavia rung the doorbell and it was shortly answered by her roommate.
“Hey, what’s goin’ on, Octi?” asked the mare in an excited voice.
“Oh, nothing much,” responded Octavia, “Silver was just walking me home.”
Silver stood googly-eyed at the white unicorn before him.
“So this is the stallion you wanted to introduce me to,” stated Vinyl as he stared with awe into Vinyl’s eyes.
“Yes,” Replied Octi, “He sure is.”
You are an earth pony, easily sound with being so. In anything you do, you try your best and never try to let it go. You happen to go into a record store and stumble upon one that you like. The register was manned by a mare in an apron with her head greatly shut and her eyes narrowed. You ring the bell sitting on the counter to wake the mare up. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Sorry,” she tired, “Can I help you?”
You hold out the record for her to scan and check out.
“Are you okay?” you ask as she takes the disc.
“I’m… I’m not. I’ve been up all night,”
“Hard day?” you ask
“Yeah, terrible.”
“I understand.”
“Vinyl?” came a voice from behind the record cases. A grey mare walked forth to the register. “Don’t express negativity with the customers.” She pointed out.
“Yes, Tavi,” responded Vinyl glumly.
“No, that’s alright, I enjoyed the conversation,” you respond.
“Oh… well that’s very nice. Vinyl?” replied “Tavi”.
“Yeah. Thank you for your business, sir,” Vinyl says to you.
You notice the weak expression on each pony’s face and reply, “Ya know, I could stay and look around some more.”
“That would be fine,” said Octavia.
You wander aimlessly around the store, glancing up at the two store owners every once and a while to check for a moment when they’re perhaps prepared for a conversation.
“So, what kept you up last night?” you finally say looking down at a record.
“Oh, um… just… A doctor’s appointment,” Vinyl obviously lied.
“A doctor’s appointment?” you ask, sceptically.
“Yes…?” She replied.
“Well, whatever it was, I’m really sorry.”
“Sorry?” she begged, “Why?”
“Your face more than shows you’re sad about it,” you tell her.
Vinyl was always terrible at keeping secrets.
She looked both ways to confirm that Octavia had gone.
“Come here, I’ll tell ya ‘bout it.”
It was odd that somepony that had just met you would want to speak, but you walk over anyways.
“Her coltfriend broke up with her yesterday,” she tells you.
“Why?” you respond.
“He grew to love me instead.”
“Why are you telling me this?” you ask again.
“She’s sensitive about it.”
“And you work together and live with it?”
“No! Of course not! She’s also my roommate and my friend, I would never hurt her like that!”
You smile weakly at the mare’s response. It was beautiful that the two of them respected each other the the point that they would give up things such as that for the other.
“That’s nice,” you tell her.
“That’s what friends are for,” she responded.
“Best friends,” you add.
Octavia walks in and notices that the two of you have been talking.
“What’s going on?” she asks politely.
“We, were just talking,” you acknowledge.
You walk over and give the mare a hug, noticing the constant struggle in the mare’s eyes. It was an infinite struggle telling the mare not to cry, though she knew she would not hold up.
“I’m sorry,” you say. You soon realise your back is wet and reduce the possible blame down to Octavia’s tears as she let the liquid flow freely from her broken face.
There might be pounds of pain in being yelled at by your waifu, even being physically hurt, but the worst part, the most hurtful thing of all is that you still love him/her when he/she leaves you for another.
Vinyl brings herself closer to the couple and places each of her arms around you and Tavi. Although they were only friends, Tavi would never let somepony so cruel into her life to destroy the other’s, but the most important part is that she loved Octavia as much as any friend could love another. Her love would never be tampered with and it was all reserved for Octavia.
And Octavia Loved her friend back as much as any friend could love another.
I find great hardships being princess under my conditions. How can I rule Equestria when I have not been around for a thousand years? I am incapable of understanding the subject’s needs especially when I left the way that I did. How can I rule beside one of the greatest rulers ever known when I am as tyrannous as I am and as power-hungry as any mare would expect me to be? I am not meant to live up to your potential and mine has sunk far below yours once I became somepony else. I’m sorry, sister, but I can’t live this way. I hope you understand, but I’m not going to be a princess. I will live forever under my own exile. “Let nopony get hurt, help yourself last.” as mother would say. And never will I know love like you.
-Sincerely, Luna
Luna looked over her letter. She wondered if she had made it clear that she was banishing herself from Equestria while at the same time, cursing herself for her deeds.
It was her fault. She had done something wrong and hurt everypony. Now she had nopony to blame but herself and she believed it. It had to be her, why else did he leave?
Luna traced her hoof over the bruise on her face at the thought of him leaving. Tears came to her eyes.
“It was me,” she said out loud, “I just don’t know what I did.”
She looked over into her mirror. The bruise welled in a large lump below her eye, but didn’t hurt. There was a pain somewhere else on her body that hurt far beyond that.
There was a knock on the door and the princess turned to meet it.
“Who is it?” responded the princess to your knock.
“I heard voices,” you resume, “Are you okay?”
“I’m… I’m fine!” her words seemed more depressed than she probably meant them to.
“I… Princess Luna, are you sure? I’m required as a guard to…”
Luna opened the door to her room slowly. She knew the protocol. Members of the royal guard have to check on their princess when they hear something out of the ordinary (that noise being Luna talking to herself).
Luna sat on her bed, uttering nothing.
“Clean, subject?” she asked, sweetly.
“Yes.” You discover the room completely untouched. Luna’s hair distracts you for a moment as you gaze around the room. Its length and color was mesmerizing and you kept staring.
The princess gave a short cough expressing that you should carry on. Instead though, the princess draws your attention to her face, still beautiful regardless of the swelling, bulbous bruise that welled beneath her eye.
“What is…”
“It’s fine,” justified the princess.
“No, it’s not,”
“I… I just need some sleep,” the princess distracted.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
“You’re not, are you?”
“Fine, does it please you to know that my coltfriend broke up with me and…”
Luna’s face turned from mild to upset and then suddenly broke. Her face fell in her hooves
“...And I need to be loved. I’ve never been hurt like this. Won’t somepony please tell me what I did wrong?”
You stare at your princess. Her face is pressed deeply into her hooves as if deciphering a secret message hidden in them.
She looks beautiful, there is no doubt about it and you just about break inside as your princess weeps into her hooves.
“Nothing,” you say, “there’s nothing you could possibly have done to drive him away.”
“And how though, I’ve been grudging against ponies ever since I was banished 1000 years ago and I’m as bad then as I am now.”
Her voice quivers in her hooves.
“No, you’re not, I know you. You would never hurt anypony.”
Luna finally brought her head out of her hooves.
“But what if I do?” Her expression finally changed from upset to concern.
“I’ll…”
You pause. You couldn’t do anything to help.
“Exactly,” Luna pressed, “I’d hurt you and many others.”
You stare into her eyes for the remainder of her speech before she plops down again onto her bed. You again pause and try to help yourself to tell her your thoughts.
“I’ll still be here, though,” you speak up.
“What?” Luna asks calmly.
“I’d still stand by you even if you did,” you respond hopefully.
“Why?” Luna asked, her gaze upon you. Tears again began from her eyes.
“I just want to be with you…” you tell half truth.
“You...You do?” Luna begins to speak sceptically, “Why?”
That was the hard question. Of all the questions, how could you tell your princess the truth when It was all but clear visa-versa.
“It’s because I… I…”
You stare at the floor now, unsure of how to say it. Eventually, the news burns you up inside and you look into Luna’s eyes. Each eye was filled with something that reached out to him for his words as if pulling them from his mouth. The tears on the edge of her gaze forced you forward and you finally spoke.
“I love you, Luna.”
It was too late to take back the words. It was too late for her to no longer know what you did and have withheld from her for the longest time.
Luna let one tear drop over her hurt eye before telling you that you mean the same to her.
“I love you too,” she spoke as a smile returned to her face.
You love Luna, there's no doubt about it. She was everything you loved. She was your princess. She was your mare and she loves you all the same. But why? Why does she love you?
She loves you because of you and that's something you'll never have taken.
“I shouldn’t have been so showy!” yelled the light blue mare from her cabin. She scolded herself over her mirror. “Ugly,” she thought, “Try harder, eat better, stop bragging, practice harder, be nicer, do your makeup, do your nails, fix dinner, do your mane, tip the driver, Be better!”
Trixie panted at herself and stared intently into the eyes of the mare staring back at her, “And get another mirror, My reflection will never please me.” Trixie had formed a number of opinions about herself and had to make sure that they were cured. She would never be loved, she’d always be kicked out. She was a worthless, cheap street-performer. Trixie looked down at her dark black cloak. Tears had formed on the outer edges.
Trixie will never be satisfied with herself, because she hated herself. When will she ever learn to be the performer she was supposed to be. Trixie moved to the back of her small trailer and stared at the photo of her parents. Her mother and father were featured in the picture as bridle-way (ahem, like broadway but Equestrian) performers dancing on stage.
“Why can’t I be like you?” she asked out loud.
Trixie cried, her first tear tore through her wounded eye and hurt her.
“I just want what you guys had,” her cut throbbed on her face as she spoke, “and now, I’m less like you than I ever was.”
The rain poured outside and beat against the sides of the buildings around you. You yourself had already started to get soaked up to your mane in the wrath of the sky. Your house was nearly a mile and a half away. It’s time to turn to in for asking ponies to let you stay.
You knock on the door to a cottage: no answer.
Next house: no room.
Next house: “No room.”
You’re alone. No one will let you in. Why should they? You’re a stranger that probably would be considered unsafe to let in anyways.
You try several houses and each of them turn up to be the same response: “No” and to make matters worse, it’s also hailing now too.
The street almost seems to narrow before you as you lose yourself in the cold of the storm and the pain of the hail. You’ll never make it home. It is too far.
Finally, you can make out the dim figure of a trailer parked in the street. You hobble up to it and knock soundly.
There’s no answer. The trailer looks to be uninhabited though. You wait at the door for a short period of time before your body forces you to open the door and duck inside where you’ll be warm.
The door shuts behind you. The room immediately heats you up and the lights are on as if welcoming you to the new temporary home that you stand in.
You hear sniffling, though and it’s certainly not your own. You look down the hallway to see a partially lit-up bedroom no larger than the closet at your house. Some Pony's legs are draped over the side of the bed, but curtains prevent you from seeing anything other than that. Weeping is barely audible behind the small mess of the trailer.
“Hello?” you ask. “I’m sorry, I thought this place was empty, I was hoping I could stay?”
You look at yourself in your position asking that question and it becomes very evident whomever it is, you’re probably not staying much longer.
“Who’s there?” asks the voice of a mare as the curtains are pulled back.
You watch as the soft mane emerges. The elegant curves move up to the round head with glistening purple eyes. Still, though the majority of her face was blocked by the shade that was still being held over her by the curtains.
“I’m sorry, I was…”
The mare looks at you with a hint of awe, but with a good amount of depression.
“Is… Is something wrong?”
The mare nodded and then leaned back against her pillowcase. Again the face illudes you.
“Can I help you?” you try at her.
The mare flipped over and hiccuped. Her tears grew so thick you could almost hear them hitting her sheets.
It might as well be this way. You look around for something soft and lay what you find over the mare to keep her warm in this weather before you finally walk outside into the rain.
It was rude to walk into somepony else’s house anyway.
Trixie felt the soft fabric press up against her and rubbed it between her hooves. It was her own cloak. She turned her head to look at the picture of her parents in the frame beside her bed. “This wasn’t what they would want,” she told herself
You overlook the great pouring rain and anticipate the cold and the pain you’re about to feel as soon as you leave the small shelter the side of this building has to offer.
You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to meet it.
“Come inside,” urged the voice before the mare quickly turned and guided you inside.
Inside, you see the mare pull a tissue out of the greatly used tissue box before using it and turning to her bed.
“Are you okay? I hears you sniffling before,” you express.
“I’m…” the mare “responded.”
Another tear fell from the upset face.
“No, no it’s okay, I’m sorry for asking.”
There remains silence for several minutes. Outside the storm rages and thunder booms close to the small trailer.
Before long, the thunder shakes the ground beneath you and you’re forced to talk to her to distract from the terrible noises.
The mare finally lifts her depressed head as the bolt hits signaling that she felt it too.
“That was big,” you acknowledge the obvious truth.
“I...I know,” said the mare cutely. Her face remains hidden behind her curtains and you’re only able to see a little bit of it. She’s gotten over her fit from before guessing by her response.
“Have you ever been caught in a thunderstorm like this before?” you ask, hopeful.
“I...haven’t. This has been the worst so far.”
You keep speaking to her as an attempt to break the ice, but nothing seems to work.
“What do you do here?”
Trixie stared down at her cutie mark and then over at her parents’ picture.
“I’m a performer,” the response comes in a weak tone.
“Well that’s an exciting occupation,” you acknowledge.
“I-It’s...Not.”
“How come?”
“I…” Trixie stopped talking and you take a step towards her to make sure she’s alright.
“Everypony hates me and I’m never able to get a home. I’m stuck traveling town to town and…”
You walk steadily towards her as her voice cracks in a sad tone.
“...And I’m...heartbroken,” she concluded.
You look stunned at her.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I was just…”
You stand just about over her now and look down at the admiringly beautiful mane.
“I’m sorry.”
Trixie cried for just a moment before turning her head and revealing her cut.
You gaze at it in shame.
“I’m so sorry,” you say.
Trixie blinked away tears and then looked up at you.
Her cut, though apparent took up none of your attention and you stared directly into her eyes.
“What’s-*sniff* what’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing, it’s just…” Trixie leaned in to hear your response, “I… was wondering if you’d consider going out sometime… with me.”
“Why me?” she asked, “Why not somepony that’s beautiful and...perfect.”
“Aren’t you?” you ask.
Trixie blushed at your comment and moved her hoof over her eyes to wipe away her tears.
“I would love to,” responded Trixie.
the two of you gazed into each other’s eyes. Trixie moved the picture of her parents to the side. She didn’t need to be like them. She was herself and that’s the greatest “her” she could be.
Buck the trees, bring the filled baskets in, place baskets, buck the trees, bring the filled baskets in, place baskets, buck the trees, bring filled baskets in, place baskets, etcetera etcetera, ETCETERA! “When will my job end?” thought AppleJack draggin the baskets into the barn. It seemed with every tree she bucked there was an infinite more she had to buck. “Why am I so prideful? Why didn’t I just ask my friends to help?” AppleJack pressed her back against the heavy baskets loaded with apples.
She needed to do her job regardless of any previous understanding between her and somepony she needed to forget and never come back to. The pain in her chest was a lot harder than the burning of her muscles (which was pretty bad), but she had a job to do, and that job was all her own. All she needed was some help, though. Help that nopony else could give. She needed somepony to talk to.
Applejack went inside and walked over to her desk. She pulled paper out of the drawers and started her message:
Dear princess Celestia,
I need help. I need somepony to talk to.
You are a pegasus. All day, you’ve been flying, patrolling the area, making sure that the skies are clear for the remaining week. But this is isn’t even your job. “Why exactly were you stuck doing it?” you ask yourself often. Celestia had called you to doing this calling at a meeting with you at the post office where you work and you reluctantly accepted. She never said there was a shortage of cloud-busters or even that the clouds were causing a problem. In fact, the sky looks absolutely bare, not a cloud in sight.
You’re rounding off your day of boring patrolling when you remember that Celestia told you to give extra attention to the south-east corner of Ponyville. Being a mail-pony you know that that is the residence of the Apple family. And now for whatever reason, you have to go and overlook the entire orchard for clouds that do not exist.
The orchard was certainly clean. You looked everywhere and can’t find a single one. You start home, completely certain that you’d done your job. Somepony down below thought was quite the opposite. The mare had orange fur, freckles, and a brown cowboy hat. You look down at the mare’s face, which was happens to have all of one apple balancing itself on her eye. Her whole body lay on top of a wide basket of apples and the mare lay fast asleep.
“Pardon?” you ask, flying over her.
No response.
“Hey, ma’am?” you inch closer.
The mare awakened with a start.
“What?!” responded the mare.
“Sorry,” you assume that apparently she had meant to be sleeping in a very odd position.
“What time is it?” she acknowledged before you had the chance to respond any more than you already have.
“It’s…”
“Oh, no.” the mare took one at the position of the sun and ran to move the buckets that she had just been laying in.
“It’s 7:12,” you notice her frantic movements and respond, “Can I help you?”
“[sigh] Yes, you can help move these barrels to the barn over there. Ya mind me askin’ what yer name is?”
You respond with your name.
“Well then… nice to meet you, I’m Applejack, but my friends call me AJ.”
“So, you haven’t been getting a lot of sleep then, AJ?”
“No, I haven’t, I’ve been kept awake by more than one thing as of late.”
“What would that be?”
“The...orchard work,” she responded sounding more like a question than an answer.
Although that seemed a weird response, you mind your own business and continue to walk beside her, asking “non-personal” questions.
“Wow, you must have your hooves full with this orchard,” you continue the conversation.
“I sure do.” She spoke before mumbling to herself almost inaudible to you, “along with other things.”
AppleJack guides you along the narrow, winding path through the orchard until you’ve finally moved the barrels all the way to the entrance to the barn. She then looks in your direction, “Thanks for helping,” she offered.
“No problem,” you respond confused. It was short work, but she appreciated it. You expected to stay longer and help out more, but apparently this was all she needed. Wasn’t it? How is it that she doesn’t need more help considering that before hoof she didn’t get enough sleep and now she doesn’t need more sleep?
She was distracting you from something. She didn’t want help for some reason other than her work.
AppleJack started shoving against the barrels to get them into the shed. Now that you weren’t helping, the barrels didn’t budge and the mare thrusted to absolutely no resolve.
You fly over the mare to a barrel on the other side of the large stack that she has been pressing on and you pick it up to move into the barn.
AppleJack manages to move the large pile of barrel about an inch without the worry of one barrel holding her back on the rest. The stack stops there and she again struggles vainly.
“Are you okay?” you ask the mare.
“I’m fine! Are you done helpin’?”
“No,” you acknowledge, “I’m just trying to help as much as I can. You just had your hooves so full and…” your words fade.
“I...I get it,” AppleJack continued, “I just need to be alone right now. You can go home and maybe come back tomorrow if ya want.”
You think about it before responding, “okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
AppleJack took off her hat and looked down at her hooves. Her nails were scratchy from all of her work. Everything was worn. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her head ached from not getting enough sleep. Her hair became dry from being in the sun too long.
“This is why he left,” AppleJack proclaimed to herself, “Nopony wants to be seen with a work pony like me.”
Applejack walked to her house. It was time to finally sleep and maybe finally forget whatever had happened that led to her melancholy state.
You return to the orchard the next day. You look down at your watch. It’s 9:00, the barrels outside the bar are still here and there’s no sign of AppleJack.
Since it is that way, you move the barrels into the barn, taking one barrel in and then going back and betting another, until all of them were assembled on the inside of the red wooden barn.
You set out to get more for the mare you met yesterday. The sky was still clear. You had no reason to not help the mare. So, you went for more.
AppleJack quickly interrupted that, though. You started towards the doors at the front of the barn where AppleJack stood stunned.
“How exactly did ya get all the barrels into th’ barn?” she asked, her eyes riddled with sleep.
“I just moved one in at a time,” you respond, emotionless, “Are you still okay?”
The mare at the doorway sighed and hesitated before responding, “I’m not, I need a lot more help than I’ll ever be able to get. I need a certain kind of help, but I’m not getting it,” AppleJack rubbed her eye and a tear fell around the hoof. It became apparent that the poor mare had a more emotional health issue than anything else. She wasn’t suffering too much from her job, but from her personal life. You stand awkwardly trying to find a reasonable response.
“Well… I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’ll get over it.”
“No. I’ve tried. I’ve tried to sleep it off. I’ve taken a walk, I’ve even taken a break from work one day, but I can’t shake this moment.”
“You’re working yourself too hard,” you try at her, noticing the patterns in her ways of coping with whatever it was she needed help with.
“No, I’m not,” she responded.
“You’re trying to get rid of the pain immediately. It’s not going to go away overnight. Nopony is going to be able to make you feel better immediately. You just need to get over it one day at a time,” you look back at the barrels you had just moved, “it’s like these barrels. You’re moving them all at once, but you’ll never get them into the shed unless you try to lift the weight one at a time… a-and then it’ll get easier. You’ll see. Everything will be okay. You just need time.”
AppleJack wiped away a tear and looked up at you from her before still stance.
She thought about how to help herself out and formed a sentence in her head. A sentence just for you.
You walk towards the door to let yourself out for more help. She puts her on your shoulder and keeps you away.
“Thanks,” She said, “Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome,” you respond.
“Are you available for dinner tonight?” asked the mare, trying to heal her problem.
“Certainly,” you respond, “I would love to.”
It wasn’t much. It was dinner for tonight, but it was just a step. It was the first step to something nice that you two can share, and one step at a time, it became love.
I should warn: most of what I know about carrot top is derived from “beyond her garden” by: Animatedjames and by one short comic. I’m also assuming that laptops exist, because I can and it makes this more convenient.
You are an earth pony archaeologist.
Carrot Top searched her garden for ripe carrots and peppers. To be completely honest, Carrot Top was looking for anything in her garden that she could sell. She needed more money this month of all months. This month she had had disappointment and rejection. She’d lost something very important to her and needed to find something to calm her nerves. She needed a day away from her garden and away from her house. She’d take her daughter, golden harvest and she’d leave it all. And maybe there’d be somepony to help her stay forever. She didn’t want this life. She hated rejection and regardless of whatever happened while she was gone, she had her time away. She just needed the money to do so and she needed to forget her pain. She needed release.
Carrot grabbed the root of a ripe-looking potato. “This could do well as a contribution to Carrot’s ‘vacation fund.’” she thought to herself as she pulled hard on the base of the plant. Obviously the roots of the plant had to go deep into the earth beneath carrot’s garden. The potatoes wedged themselves in the earth, giving no way. Finally the vine snapped right where the potatoes were. Carrot Top pulled away the plant and found all of one potato on the end of.
“Seriously?” Carrot thought, “The rest must have broken off under ground while I was pulling.”
She then went to work digging at the large, underground, golden glories. Afterall, who wouldn’t like potatoes as fresh as these ones come?
Dirt gave way beneath her hooves and after a while, she could finally see the ripe, perfect vegetable, but the ground hardened on a fork, barely holding the potato beneath two ribs of hard ground.
“No.” said Carrot aloud, “I am NOT wasting a profit on this potato, because I couldn’t get it out of the ground.”
With that, Carrot trotted into her house to get a spade.
“Mom?!” called Golden Harvest from the kitchen, “how many tablespoons of black pepper…?”
“One!” called Carrot to her daughter. She had taught her daughter to cook dinner while she was busy in the yard, just to save time and money on that necessity. It was necessary if either of them were finally going to get out of this town.
“Thanks!” Golden called back.
Carrot grabbed the old, rusty spade from the tool cabinet and walked outside to fulfill her “potato retrieving duty.” Upon returning to the hole she had dug, Carrot hit her shovel against the hard ground, making a *clank* noise every time she hit it.
“Wait a minute,” Carrot said as she put her head closer to the formation of the ground that wedged her potato to its prison. Carrot dug around the hardened ground, deeply now with the spade. This wasn’t dirt. It was ribs Carrot had dug up an ancient burial ground. Her bruised eye hung over the artifact treasure cove of her own garden, staring into the mysterious grounds beneath her.
You finally arrive at the artifact site, everything the news was saying has been that a yard chalk-filled with artifacts has been hiding right underneath a bed of potatoes and peppers.
You, as an archaeologist, have been called to the scene. It’s now your job to help identify the findings.
“Pardon me,” said somepony new as she walked up to you.
“Yes, ma’am, is there something I can help you with?” you respond, trying to be very professional.
“Yes, I’m the one that found the… place,” she informed.
“Oh, I see, yes. I am here to help sort out the details on your findings,”
“So you’re the archaeologist?” she asked, some level of want crawling into her voice.
“Yes,” you say, serious although noting her tone.
“Does your job take you many places?” the mare asked politely but beggingly.
“It does, but right now I’m just here in Ponyville for a few days. With that, it seems it’s about time I get back to my job,” you try to get back to your work, saying what you must to pull away in the nicest way you know how.
You continue to work at the newly discovered artifact site.
Carrot trotted away from you and into her house, blushing strongly. When the door to her house was closed behind her, she put her hooves up to her cheeks in nervousness, blushing even stronger.
At every hour at least, you would see the mare inside supposedly “doing chores,” but you’d catch her looking at you as you investigated the site in her backyard. Why shouldn’t she? She was having her yard dug-up at a full expense paid and reimbursed. Every profit that she would have made on her crops has been more than made up for and some of the things that you’ve been digging up have been quite interesting.
However, as the day goes on, you notice more and more that the mare inside was looking at you in particular. Her bruised eye would look at you for just long enough for you to look back and catch her gaze. She’d then snap out of her expression and get back to whatever it was she was doing.
This continues to happen between her and you for the following two days.
You arrive on the fourth day of the archeological site and ponies have started to pack their things and leave. The artifacts had mostly been dug up and they were moving on. Of course, you, being the identifier and helper in determination, had to stay behind to clear everything else on the site up, then it would be time to go. You look over all the artifacts and write on the paper in front of you about their origins and file every one of them. It’s boring. All of the paperwork builds on you and gives you a headache. You look at your cutie mark: a broken fossil. You really didn’t enjoy doing your job all that much, but after doing it for so long, you’ve come to find a need to do it regardless of the pain it gives your head. You finally finish the paperwork and pack it all into your briefcase. You trot over to your carriage to go home and hopefully get some sleep. Your path get quickly interrupted, though. Carrot Top jumped in front of you to prevent your absence.
“Sorry,” she started, “I just wanted to ask if you’d maybe wanna go out to dinner tonight before you leave?”
You two had only talked once, briefly, but of course you had already asked other mares out to dinner with a lot less recognition than that. You don’t particularly have to know a person to go out with them.
You respond with a “yes”as you recall that you really needed food and it would be rude to say ‘no.’ Plus you didn’t have any reason against doing it, so why not?
You escort her into the passenger side and close the door behind her before getting in on your side and allowing her to tell the driver what restaurant you’re going to.
You wait for the server to sit the two of you before each of you are allowed to take a seat. You’ve never been here before, but considering she’d spent a good amount of time living in Ponyville, you do consider she has great taste in restaurants.
“What are you having?” she asked enthusiastically.
You look down at your menu and study it, closely. “I think I’ll have the hayghetti,” you say, trying to sound just as responsive to her as she to you.
“Good choice,” she said obviously trying harder than she should to sound nice and significant.
The waiter came to take your menus and as he does, carrot excused herself to the bathroom.
“Pardon me, I need to go rarefy myself.” she told you, as she left the table for the bathroom.
You wait patiently before she came back about ten minutes later with makeup and eyelash extensions on her face. She had some fancy skin-care thing over her eye to try to patch up the bruise that had been left there. Her mane had been redone to make her look better and… it worked. You find yourself looking at her as she had done often as you were working on her yard, but catch yourself and change your expression. Something seemed strange about her appearance, though.
“Well, hello. You look… really nice,” you congratulate her.
“Thank you.” she responded, smiling widely. Too widely.
“Y-you’re welcome,” you continue.
You help the mare back into her chair and pushed it back in. Carrot looked up at you in a happy way, probably to thank you for acting like such a gentlecolt, but you would do this on any date. It’s not that big of a deal to you.
After what seemed like hours, the waiter finally came with your food and gave you and Carrot what you ordered.
Carrot tried to hold her drink in a fancy way, but spilled it on the table. You help her to quickly clean it up as she repeatedly apologised. You keep telling her that “it’s okay” and “everypony does it,” but she apologises regardless.
When dinner is finally over, you let Carrot Top out of the carriage and help her up to her doorstep. Before she lets herself in, though you try to encounter her.
“Carrot?”
“Yes?”
“Back at the restaurant, you seemed to be putting a lot of effort into the date. Is there something wrong?” Carrot touched her poorly covered up bruise and looked at the ground. “Yes,” she admitted.
“What is it?”
“I didn’t want you to leave just yet. I wanted…”
You gaze into her eyes as they swelled with pain.
She remembered strongly getting hurt last time she trusted to love somepony.
“...I just wanted to come with you.”
“Huh?” you question.
“You know. I don’t want to live in this small town anymore. There are sites that I want to explore. Things I want to see. I don’t want to stay in this small home my whole life. I want to go somewhere. And… I think I want to do it with you.”
You smile slightly at the adorable mare looking at you.
“I understand,” you confirm, “but you wouldn’t need to try so hard for me. I’m just an archaeologist from Manehattan. I’ve eaten lunch in the wind on a sandstorm in saddle-arabia.”
Carrot giggled a little at your words.
“And I think you’re beautiful either way,” you finish.
Carrot blushed again.
“Thanks,” the mare agreed, “Thanks for everything.”
Carrot then opened the door to her house and started to walk in.
You think for a moment before speaking aloud: “if you want to be around the world, I have an idea for you.”
“Really?” responded the newly saddened mare, “What?”
Months later…
You stream live video through a company laptop to Carrot Top.
“Hello!” you say across the feed to the mare and her filly child on the other end.
“Hello!” she responded.
“So, carry? you started asking.
“U-huh?” she asked.
“You know how you always wanted to see the pyramids?”
“Yes?” replied Carrot.
You moved your way out of the screen to present three pyramids behind you.
“They’re beautiful!” she exclaimed over the other end of the computer.
“Yeah, but guess what?”
“What?” Carrot asked.
“My company finally gave me the raise I need to get the two of you over here with me while I’m busy digging up the mummies.”
“That’s great!” Carrot responded.
“One more thing,” you say to the pony that you’ve gotten to know better than anypony. The pony you love more than anything. The pony that makes you forget about the troubles of your job every time you see her.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I just couldn’t wait ‘till you got here to ask,” you acknowledged, pulling out a ring from its convenient pouch in the case behind you.
“Will you marry me?”
Everyone deserves attention.
Everyone’s dreams can be accomplished one way or another.
And when it’s love, you won’t need to try so hard. Just be yourself.
I want to say as a forenote: I checked, Pinkie Twi is not a real user. Also, this fic is on request, it’s not all my option to write this about someone I don’t know personally.
Hooves clacked against the smooth surface of the keyboard as Feline typed away at her story. Her online fans were going to love it. It was everything that Feline loved about everything and now she could share it with everypony online that she cared about.
Feline finished the last sentence of the very last chapter. She was done. She could finally get the story approved for moderation and show everypony her newest and greatest creation.
Pressing into a new tab and logging onto the site, Feline noticed that she was short as of one follower. What happened? Feline pressed into her wide list of followers and looked for whomever had stopped reading her stories. “Who was that?” Felin asked herself, “What did I write to make…” Feline noticed the list had missing one member in particular that would never be replaced by any other follower: “Pinkie Twi” had forgotten her. Her closest friend on the website had just left her. She didn’t like her stories anymore.
You are just a unicorn sitting at a computer screen. You type away at the keyboard and look for material to read on this whole new website for undiscovered artists. You can’t find exactly what you like about it, but there’s something in reading stories that don’t exactly go very far beyond the website and in exploring it that makes you enjoy reading here more than anywhere else.
You scroll down the stories and search for the stories you personally want to read. Nothing comes up. It’s all scratch, clop, it’s… weird shipping. “Who wrote that?” you ask yourself looking at a specific story that nopony should have written. “How was that story approved?” you ask looking at a story that at full-length was about two sentences long. You keep searching and looking.
“Finally,” you say upon seeing an original piece. It was probably going to be good, especially considering the artist. She had many stories and each one varied in views, but this one in particular stood out to you.
You read it, eagerly and think to yourself as you do so: “this story was made for me.” You know the author had clearly not intended it for you, but every word of it speaks directly to you. It was a part of your life equally as it was a part of hers and it was beautiful.
You scroll down to the comments to type your response:
Loved it!
Thank you for sharing your story on this site,
You stop and scroll back to the top of the page to find the name.
...Feline Fluff.
You finish the comment and submit it to the author. That wasn’t the end of it, though. It was now that you went ahead and read all three of her other stories. They were perfect. They were all for you and for everypony. They were perfect.
It was days later that you got your response from the mare on the other end of the computer. She messaged back:
Thank you, I needed someone to tell me that.
You are perplexed by the statement, you respond to that reply:
Why do you need that?
Moments later, you receive the response:
I just do. My friend doesn’t like my stories anymore.
You then immediately respond:
I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there something I can do?
You wait patiently for her to respond, but nothing comes until the next day:
I just want a friend like her.
You scroll to the very top of the page you’re on and click the “watch” button on her page:
I might not be able to be a friend like whomever she had been, but you’re already a friend to me.^__^
You receive a reply after an hour of waiting:
Why?
To which you respond:
I read your stories. They were there when I needed them. Now I’m here for you if you ever need me. We can talk if you want to.
The answer came swiftly:
I would love to.
Your hooves clattered on the keyboard as you typed and typed your messages from one end of the computer to the other as you learned about the incredible mare on the other end.
The internet is not the greatest place to meet. You talked to her over the chat on the website for as long as you could before finally meeting in person.
You stand at the side of the block with your legs shaking and your teeth just about chattering. She was your online idol for a long time. What if she didn't like you?
Feline walked down the dirt road to the cafe where you two planned to meet. Often she'd look down and around to make sure that nothing was one her hooves or on her face for fear that she'd suffer an embarrassing introduction. "Keep it together, Feline," she'd say to herself trying to calm down.
The mare catches your gaze before you catch hers. You she her shaking in the pure heat of day. Apparently she was just as nervous to meet you as you were you meet her. You walk over to her and shake her hoof softly. The mare gazed into your eyes shyly and you gaze back just as much so. Throughout the course of the meeting that ended up being a date before anything else, the mare continued her gaze. She was nice, funny and beautiful. "There is no way you'd ever let her go," you think as you stare across the table at your newest, best friend.
Everyone has a friend here. Everyone deserves another’s welcome. And there’s always a friend to help you get over another.
Forenote: I have absolutely NO information on whomever this is.
Jinx sat on her bed, scooting close to the side of it. Her arms stretched as far as they could onto the edge as she made an attempt to scoop herself off of the sheets. Her legs flailed as she pushed the worn body across the starchy, rough mattress.
Her eye twitched under the pain from her cut as she teared up. The bed was empty. Nopony sat in it next to her. He’d never sleep in the bed beside her. She knew for sure. The doctor said so himself. Her love was dead. He’d never move again and neither would her legs.
You are a pegasus.
You spend your day pulling the ambulance from the hospital to an injured pony. Your job is to do get there quickly so that whomever is hurt gets healed quickly. No day is normal to you. Every single day, you get a different pony in the cart behind you with some immediate harm done and you have to wheel the heavy load through the sky. But after doing it for so long, you become accustomed to carrying such weight. You are able to carry some of the heaviest of ponies to the hospital from a wide variety of distances.
You’re finally done for the day. Your wings are very sore and you feel as if you’re going to collapse from this job as you are constantly worn down over and over from the weathering away of flying heavy loads to and from the Ponyville hospital. It’s time to walk home. You’re too tired to fly.
Dust kicks up around your hooves as they hit the ground. The sun sets slowly behind the mountains over Ponyville. The ground shakes under you. Or rather, your legs are too tired to refrain from giggling as you walk tiredly back to your home. Your mane begins to style itself as the constant shaking starts to form it into an unnatural shape.
You could swear that if you weren’t paying attention to the road in front of you, looking for even ground, you’d have fallen already. Rocks beneath you on the road below clamber and slip against the dirt and every hoofstep you feel your legs aching more and more. The uneven ground finally fails you and you fall forward.
“Hey, careful there!” said a playful voice above you. You look up to see the face of a green-coated mare with blue eyes standing taller than any mare you’ve seen before. Reason being: She was in a wheelchair. Your mind scrapes over itself trying to find a way to get up, but draws a blank. You’re dumb-founded and you’ve completely forgotten what it was you were doing whether it was from falling on your face or from being surprised by “mysterious wheelchair pony.” Perhaps it was from embarrassment of falling on your face on the same route you usually flew every day.
“Here, go ahead and use my wheelchair to let yourself up.” The mare offered calmly.
You help yourself up using the edge of the mare’s wheeled device, almost falling agins several times on your way up. You’re just that tired.
When you finally get to your hooves, you offer the mare a thank you and prepare to get back on your way before realising something.
“Can I help wheel you back to your house?” you ask.
“Why?” asked the mare.
“Well if we’re going the same way, then I leaning against your wheelchair will help me get home and you won’t have to wheel yourself there.”
The mare then stared blankly for a moment, making the connection before responding.
“Yes,” she responded.
You gingerly work your way to the handlebars on the back of her chair and start to move her in the direction you were going. You look down onto her to make sure she’s comfortable. Her eyes meet yours for a moment. No concern starts to build in hers, confirming that she’s comfortable with the exchange that is going on right now.
You move the chair slowly on the road, feeling your limbs get more and more relaxed as your weight is transferred off of your front legs and onto the chair beneath them.
“How long have you been in that wheelchair?” you ask, trying to sound understanding.
Again, the mare made some sort of attempt to gaze slightly up at you from her position. “I’ve been in one for about two weeks,” she answered. You suddenly realise this is obviously a very delicate subject. The wound of whatever accident had happened was still fresh and when you look down and make indirect eye contact, you can tell that just thinking about it hurt her.
A lump formed in Jinx’s throat and she now tried to focus on what the road looked like, averting her mind from the terrible thought of the accident.
“I’m sorry,” you apologise.
“It’s... fine,” she answered, the pause confirming: “no, it’s not all that *ahem* okay.
To clear the awkwardness generated by the previous conversation, you continue to another.
“What bands do you like to listen to?”
“I like to listen to Great Big Fish,” responded the mare.
“Really, that’s exactly what I like,” you say, completely avoiding another awkward conversation by pretending to have a clue what band she’s talking about.
“Cool,” She answered with some enthusiasm.
You reach you tired hoof back to scratch your head.
“Yeah,” you answer.
“This is it!” the mare yelled as you neared the front of her house. You look to the side and see the house with several support beams trailing from other part of the building as well as the ground. Nothing about it seemed insecure, why exactly did the architect that made this building so sure it would fall down without those support beams?
You shrug away you thoughts to help the mare up to her porch as you push slowly on the chair, guiding her up to the porch. Jinx thought deeply about what had just happened. She knew that you either very nice to push her here or just trying to know what was a good place to rob (ya know, since she’s in a wheelchair and can’t protect herself very well), but considering this is Ponyville, where everyone gets along and thieves are so rarely spoken of, ponies often call them “teefs,” due to lack of hearing the word, she assumed you were nice. She had to find some way to thank you.
“Thanks,” she said, a shy expression built on her face.
“You’re welcome,” you offered before turning to attempt at making your way home.
“Are you free later tonight?” Jinx asked, thinking too hard about the question. “Am I honestly going date somepony else two weeks after my late boyfriend died?” she asked herself, “No, no this is something he...probably would have wanted…”
“I’m free,” you answered.
Jinx almost cringed at your answer. This was either going to be really good or really really awkward.
The mare sat across from you at the table, picking at her food. She looked at the ceiling cautiously and watched either side of you, staring intently every which direction. Just looking in her eyes, you could tell that she thought this was a terrible idea, but not because she disliked you.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, trying to see into the very cautious mind of the mare.
“Nothing,” she responded.
Nothing <NO.THING> (verb) 1: guess what is wrong with me or what it is that I am doing, because I have not the strength or conscience to tell you. 2: nothing.
You stare back at her, uncomfortable at her suspicious answer. Nopony says “nothing” the way that she said it and means it.
Her eyes finally flicker at you and look somewhere else, avoiding eye contact and staring more towards the ceiling.
“What?” she asked.
“There’s something wrong,” you say, “what is it? Is it me?”
“No it’s… nothing,” again, she stared off into space.
You still stared confused at her. “You can tell me,” you say, your voice contracting an offended tone.
“It’s…” Jinx started, her voice cracking. There was a long pause. Tears came to her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” you ask again, trying to sound as if to tell her that her response is accepted.
“I can’t.”
The waiter came with the check just then, giving the mare a strange look before leaving.
“It’ll be okay,” you tell her, getting ready to leave, “C’mon, we’ll go.”
You then wheeled the mare outside to the cart and took her back to her house before taking her up to her front porch.
“Goodnight,” you tell her, again turning away to get back to the cart.
“I’m sorry,” she interrupted your leave.
“It’s okay,” you say confused over what it was she was sorry for and again, you prepare to walk back to the cart.
“It was my fault,” she finally acknowledged.
“What was?”
“It’s my fault we’re here in this awkward situation. It’s all my fault that I’m in a wheelchair. I’m sorry everything went weird tonight. It was all my idea and we wouldn’t even have done it if I hadn’t…”
“No, really, you’re really nice, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologise,” you try to reason.
“But you can get hurt and…”
“Why?”
“Well it’s just…” a tear fell out of the mare’s eyes, “everypony that gets close to me seems to get hurt and two weeks ago I really pushed my luck and got somepony killed.”
Your eyes widen slightly at the thought that she killed somepony out of an outrageous circumstance.
“And now he’s dead and I’m an a wheelchair due to the ceiling above us caving in. And if I hadn’t gotten close to him then neither of us wouldn’t be hurt and now there’s a chance you’re going to be hurt as well as I, and I don’t want…” Her voice trailed off.
You pause for a moment before restarting the uncomfortable conversation. “If you thought I’d get hurt then why did you ask me out tonight?”
“Because I feel safe around you. I forgot for that moment that I was dangerous and enjoyed being around somepony nice enough to wheel around a stranger like me and I wanted to thank, but instead I ended up embarrassing both of us.”
“That’s okay, I’m not embarrassed.”
Jinx wiped away a few tears.
“And I’ll never let anything bad happen to you. Don’t worry about me. Tonight was great. I wouldn’t trade tonight if I would otherwise live forever.”
Jinx grinned at your words.
“And whatever happens after tonight doesn’t matter ‘cause spent my last one with somepony special.”
Nopony’s life is jinxed against him/herself.
Nopony should think that they don’t deserve love, because it’ll hurt.
Everypony deserves to be held regardless of her cripple.
