A collection of short stories I've written for the Thirty Minute Ponies tumblr. More to be added.
A collection of short stories I've written for the Thirty Minute Ponies tumblr. They run the gamut from comedy to tragedy to bittersweet and everything else in between. I will be writing more frequently, and will add them as I do. I hope you enjoy reading at least one of them as much as I did writing it.
Also, the 'Other' tag was used because there's too many characters to tag them all accurately.
The prompt number in parentheses is the number of the prompt located on the TMP Tumblr, if you want to find it or look at the other submissions for yourself.
“They said I couldn’t, Dawn. They said I was out of my mind. They called me a fool for trying. Well, guess what?” A beige, magenta-eyed mare looks down out over the vast, roiling expanse of slate-gray water beneath her and smiles. “All I have to say is, who’s the fool now?” She turns and fiddles with the tangle of ropes inside the hot air balloon’s basket, gently coaxing them slightly higher into the air. After all this work, it would be rather anticlimactic to touch down in the middle of an ocean.
“I never doubted you, Daring.” A pale pink mare returns the smile and reaches out a hoof, gently caressing Daring Do’s cheek. “I was with you from the beginning.” She giggles. “But I will enjoy seeing the look on Professor Duster’s face...”
“Oh, don’t get me started!” Daring growls, smacking her hooves together. “That stuck up, musty-smelling, boring old coot is probably gonna lose his false teeth when he sees you and I riding back in like the heroes we are.” She bends down and quickly consults a map bolted to the side of the basket. “Which, if I’m right, should be in a little under three hours.”
“Four days under the deadline,” Rosy Dawn replies, smiling. “You always were an overachiever.”
“Hey, adventuring is serious business,” says Daring, puffing up her chest proudly. “I might not have many standards, but when it comes to exploring, you won’t find a better mare for the job.”
“I guess I can agree with that,” Dawn says, giving her partner a playful nip on the cheek. She turns, putting her head on her forehooves and looking out over the water, almost wistfully.“Wow. We sure had some times, didn’t we, Do?”
Daring nods. “We sure did.” She closes her eyes, the waves of memories forged during their breakneck trip around Equestria and beyond washing over her like a warm rain. The laughter, the love, the narrow escapes...
Daring and Dawn, faces covered in reddish warpaint, shouting angry yet nonsensical war cries as they fend off an enraged tribe of Araqubi monkeys armed only with a broken oar and their wits...
Daring and Dawn, sweating in fear as they sneak past the den of a sleeping Ursa Major, a bag of rope and an oil lantern in tow...
Daring and Dawn, bowing humbly as they’re crowned Honorary Duchesses of Un Zadula by a ancient, stony-faced tortoise bedecked in vibrant regalia...
Daring and Dawn, smiling as they share a kiss in the light of the fading sun over the Dreadborn Desert...
Daring and Dawn...
“Daring?” The query is anxious and tinged with fear.
Do blinks, jolted out of her reverie by her friend’s tone. “What’s up, Dawn?” She looks around, frowning as she notices the sky seems to have gotten quite a bit darker since she had last checked. Surely the sun hadn’t set that quickly...
And then she sees it. Looming on the horizon like some terrible titan of old, moving slowly but inexorably towards their feeble airborne vessel: a gigantic black thunderhead, swollen and plump with destructive rain and lightning. Daring gasps, instinctively grabbing Dawn and pulling her tightly against her chest. The pegasus manages a weak grin.
“Guess ol’ Dusty will have to wait a little longer, huh?”
Dawn tries to smile back, but it twists partway through and ends up a terrified sort of half-grimace. “I... I’m scared, Do,” she whispers, holding her lover tighter. “W-what are we going to do?”
Daring Do bites her lip. In times of trouble, when her back was against the wall, she could always be counted on to have a parting quip, a reassuring whisper, or a witty retort ready and on hoof. But now, with her own mortality and that of the mare she loves hanging in front of her like a fragile gossamer string, she’s at a loss for words.
She swallows and envelopes Dawn in her wings, closing her eyes as the storm looms ever closer.
Awakening. I get up. Self check-ups complete, Voice says. System online. I smile. Another day of normal-pony friends, normal-pony food, and normal-pony fun. I shake my mane and walk downstairs.
Ingestion. The Cheery-Os are dry and slightly stale, but the food condenser reduces them to a semisweet paste anyway. Rarity’s probably either away or asleep. I don’t really mind. Let her have her rest. She, unlike me, needs it.
Departure. I finish the cereal and walk out the boutique's door, listening for the click as my magnetic manipulation core locks it behind me.
One hundred heartbeats. For some, it’s an eternity. For others, merely a minute or two.
Strange how time can twist itself so, thought Celestia, even as she dodged another volley of ravenous midnight fire. All a matter of context, I suppose. The next volley came, clipping her on the wing this time, and she cried out in more than physical pain. The being across the room from her gave a horrible, chilling laugh, and she barely managed to struggle to her hooves again before black, flickering tendrils sped towards her. She focused, leaping up and blasting the evil, fiery tongues away with a burst of brilliant golden magic. It wasn’t enough to dispel them completely, however, and she soon found herself entangled in the same deadly dance she had been performing since the moon had set.
Eighty heartbeats.
There was another cold laugh from the dark, flickering, alicorn-shaped form at the room’s edge, and Celestia had to repress a frustrated scream. Please, Sister, she thought desperately, ducking to avoid a gigantic spectral axe that had materialized above her head, if any fragment of you is still there-
“Fool.”
Sixty heartbeats.
The dark being’s voice echoed across the half-destroyed chamber, causing Celestia to pause for a moment. She nearly paid for it with her life as a pillar of black fire erupted out of the ground beside her, singing her coat and feathers. “Your so-called sister is no more than a shell for a power far greater than her feeble offering,” the dark alicorn said, spinning and lashing out with a magical whip. “A worthy, vessel, I admit, but no more than that.” It gave a mocking smile. “I may return her to you when she has exhausted her use. The Royal Statue Garden has been looking rather bare lately, hmm?”
Forty heartbeats.
Celestia had to choke back a sob as she parried the whip’s lash with a shining golden lance of her own. This horrible perversion of the soul she had known for millennia, this creature of malice and spite, this... this... thing, had replaced the elegant, intelligent, and dignified mare she had once shared long, wandering conversations over steaming cups of tea. How long ago that seems, she thought bitterly, shoving her foe back with a burst of golden light and blocking the retaliatory fireball. And soon, it will feel longer still.
Twenty heartbeats.
She could feel it now, the gentle, soothing hum of her six greatest achievements as they were drawn to her across the eddies of time and space. They calmed her, lightening her hooves and sharpening her senses, and she gave a sad, resigned, smile. Soon, sister, you will be nothing but an old mare’s tale, forgotten by all but the most devoted of scholars and the one soul who remembers you as you were. The hum increased, and she leapt high into the middle of the chamber as the air around her began to warp and shine.
Twelve heartbeats.
“What is...” The dark being paused, its flickering maw parting in an expression of utter terror. “NO! I AM THE DARKNESS THAT SHALL CONSUME THE COSMOS! I WILL NOT BE ENSLAVED! I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED! I AM NOX!” It began to back away as six glowing, gold-encased gemstones materialised around Celestia and began to hum with power.
Six heartbeats.
“Sister, please!” begged Celestia. “You’re stronger than this, I know you are! Please, abandon this and-”
“SILENCE! YOUR SISTER IS NO MORE! ALL THAT REMAINS IS THE ETERNAL NIGHT THAT SHALL-”
Two heartbeats.
The Elements glowed, spinning faster and faster as the corona of light around Celestia became brighter and brighter. The Nightmare howled in pain as the light reached it, clawing back at the radiance as though it was a physical force.
One.
“I AM NOT DONE WITH YOU, HEIRESS OF THE SUN! I WILL RISE AGAIN, AND ON THAT NIGHT, YOU SHALL REGRET ALL THAT-” The rest of the speech turned into a scream as the light consumed the dark alicorn fully, enveloping it in a shining cocoon that began to rise towards the ceiling above. It lifted through the castle’s crumbling roof, continuing up through the sky until it was little more than a glowing speck like so many of the stars that littered the night sky.
I’m sorry, sister. I’m so sorry.
Celestia stared up at the stars, Elements now lying dun and discarded at her hooves, and softly began to cry.
“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!” A bubbly, cheerful-looking pink mare gave a squeal of delight as she surveyed the various implements of death and destruction scattered among the room around her. “That’s thirty-eight pistols, twenty-six high-caliber automatic rifles, twelve heavy machine guns, four shotguns, six light machine guns, a pair of sniper rifles, three each of rocket and grenade launchers, some kind of vaporizer ray, a bazooka, two cannons, party and non-party, a mortar, aaaaaand...” She did a happy little twirl as she retrieved an ominous-looking remote from a nearby stool, nearly the only object in the basement that wasn’t covered by some weapon or other. “A laser-guided, remote-controlled, chaffscatter-resistant nuclear missile launching system!” She glanced at the basement doorway’s dumbfounded occupants and gave a small, confused frown. “What, what’s wrong?” She gave a gasp. “Oh, of course! Silly me! I forgot to arm the silo!” She rolled her eyes and gave herself a smack on the back of the head. “Oh, Pinkie, how could you be so absent-minded?!”
“Pinkie-”
“Oh, just hang on one minute, Twilight! This’ll only take a jiffy!”
“Pinkie, I-”
“Really! I just have to pop over to that one hill by the tree, go down the hidden elevator, turn the arming key, and then-”
“PINKIE!” Twilight’s shout was nearly loud enough to rattle Sugarcube Corner’s upstairs windows, and the sheer force of it made the pink mare stop her rambling long enough to give her an inquisitive look.
“What?”
Twilight gave a massive, long-suffering sigh, bringing her hoof against her face with a resounding THUD. She repeated the gesture several more times, until Pinkie grabbed the offending appendage and held it in the air.
“Why’d you do that, silly filly?” she asked cheerfully. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
With another sigh, Twilight opened her eyes, doing her best to block out the gigantic pile of armaments in front of her.
“Pinkie,” she said, with the air of a pony who is trying their absolute hardest not to succumb to at least seven entirely different sorts of nervous breakdown, “I said buns.”
Pinke frowned and cocked her head. “Buns? What do you mean, Twilight?”
“Buns, Pinkie! Cinnamon buns! One hundred buns for Granny Smith’s one hundredth birthday!” Twilight screamed, her mane twitching and letting a few stray hairs free. “Buns, not guns!”
Pinkie stopped, frowned, did a slow, methodical 360 of the weapon-filled basement, then nodded slowly as comprehension dawned. “Oooooooooh!” She winced. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Twilight! I thought I might have heard you wrong and I was thinking, ‘maybe she wanted buns, or nuns, or maybe even suns,’ but that seemed silly, and then I decided to just go with guns because that’s what I had heard and I didn’t want to disappoint you and mess up everything and-” She was cut off by Twilight shoving a purple hoof inside her mouth.
“It’s fine. I mean, you were just trying to help, but...” she glanced around the room again. “Where did you even get this?”
Pinkie shrugged and mumbled something through the other mare’s hoof. Twilight rolled her eyes, removing it and saying resignedly, “Well, as incredibly contrived and unlikely as this coincidence may be, it just so happens that we’ll actually be able to use these.” The unicorn walked gingerly over to a heavy machine gun that was nearly twice the length she was tall, hefting it with her telekinesis and slamming in a mag. “Ponyville’s under attack by a legion of undead griffons, and we’re going to need all the firepower we can get. Come on, let’s go outside and help the others” She turned to see Pinkie in a full camo uniform, complete with warpaint, toting a pair of shotguns, a revolver, and a rocket launcher strapped across her back. The bubbly mare looked at her dumbfounded friend, nodding in approval at the unicorn’s choice of armament.
“Twilight?”
“Y...yes, Pinkie?”
There was a click as the Pinkie loaded the last of the shells into the shotguns, locking the barrells and spinning them back into their holsters with the skill only a veteran could have. She grinned.
“Well, Ah suppose that’s that, then,” said Applejack, wiping the rest of the grease on her hooves onto a spotty rag. “She’s all oiled up and ready to fly.” The orange mare took a step back from the loading dock and surveyed her work proudly. Even in the reddish, sooty light of New Manehatten’s setting sun, the Apple’s Pride floated tall and confident. It wasn’t the fastest airship, nor the strongest, but it had been cared for by a mare who treated it as she would her own child. The balloon was shiny and taut, the clockwork engines oiled and polished to a shine, and the lodestone furnace stocked and filtered. The ship was a labor of love, and it showed.
“She looks good, AJ,” a deep, bassy voice murmured from beside her. “She looks mighty good.” A huge red stallion, flight-marshal’s coat brimming with barely-contained muscle and sinew, glanced toward the orange mare below him and nuzzled her affectionately. “Ah don’t know what Ah would’ve done without you ‘n Bloom helpin’ me out like this. Ah wish I could thank you more more, but-”
“You’ve already thanked me enough,” Applejack interrupted him. “Ah’m just glad Ah could do mah part, what with the damn leg ‘n all,” she said, gesturing ruefully at the series of brass rods, copper tubes, and clockwork gears that had replaced her left foreleg. “How’s the sayin’ go again? ‘Effort is effort, big or small...” her brow furrowed as she struggled to remember the next line of the wartime catchphrase.
“‘An’ the work of one can help us all’,” finished Big Mac. “Although Ah would say you’ve put a mite more than a ‘small effort’ into fixin’ up the Pride here,” he said, gesturing at the gleaming airship hovering before them. “She looks like new. Better, even.”
Applejack blushed and scuffed the ground with her flesh-and blood hoof. “Aw, shucks, Mac. It wasn’t that big of a deal. A couple anchor bolts here, some replacement maingears there, a little fine-tunin’ to the lode regulator, some spit-shine an’ polish, an’ the old girl did the rest herself.”
“There you go again,” said Mac, smiling and shaking his head. “Yammerin’ on about gears and regulators as if Ah had the slightest inklin’ of what you were talkin’ about. Ah don’t build the ships, sis. Ah just fly ‘em.” His smile faded, and he glanced towards the gigantic brass grandfather clock that dominated the central square of the port. “That reminds me. Ah should be gettin’ on mah way.”
Applejack sighed, closing her eyes and feeling a lump beginning to form in her throat. “Do you really have t’ go?” she asked sadly, even though she knew the answer.
Big Mac shook his head. “‘Fraid so, sis.” He looked out towards the smoky sky beyond and pointed. “Somewhere out there, there’s griffons that want Equestria to fall. They want me dead, they want you ‘n Bloom dead, and everypony else dead too.” He turned back to her and leaned down, grabbing Applejack in a tight embrace. “An’ it’s mah job to make sure they never even get close.”
The orange mare sniffled. “Ah’m gonna miss you, Big M.”
The stallion smiled sadly. “Ah’m gonna miss you too, AJ.”
She looked at him hopefully. “You’ll write, wont’cha?”
He nodded. “Every week. Ah swear it.”
She smiled through her tears, leaping up and wrapping her one real remaining hoof around his shoulder.
“Take good care o’ Bloom for me, all right?” Mac asked, walking up to the Pride’s loading ramp.
She nodded. “Don’t you worry about us, Mac. We’ll be fine.” She wiped her eyes and stared at him, at the brother she had relied on for her entire life, her rock, her anchor, now about to be swept away to return only Celestia knew when. “You... you jus’... be safe, all right?”
He nodded, even as the ramp began to lift with a hydraulic groan. “Ah promise. Eight months from now, Ah’ll be back, safe ‘n sound, and we can start th’ first day of the rest of our lives. Don’t you worry.” With a hiss, the ramp closed entirely, and the Apple’s Pride began to slowly make its way up from the dock.
Applejack gave a nod in return, ignoring the fact that her brother couldn’t appreciate the gesture. She watched as the airship rose and rose, fading into the soot-filled sky like a pearl in an ocean of rust and blood, before she blinked away a tear and it was gone.
Rarity trotted slowly through the heap of blackened wood, burnt fabric, and grayish ash that was all that remained of The Carousel Boutique. She reached the edge, giving a stray scrap of siding a half-hearted kick, and sighed.
“Why...” All her hopes, her ambitions, her dreams... everything she had wanted, dashed against the metaphorical cliffs in a matter of minutes. She wasn’t Rarity now, not anymore. She was nothing, worse than nothing. The magical blaze had consumed everything, even her vault of special top-secret designs. All that remained now were her and the ashes.
“Rarity... oh, Celestia...” Twilight whispered, walking up behind her friend and putting a comforting hoof around her shoulder. “I... we can fix this, somehow, I promise...”
The white unicorn shook her head. “No, Twilight. You can’t fix this. I can’t fix this. Celestia can’t fix this!” She jabbed a hoof at the ruins. “And even if we did, what’s stopping them from coming back tomorrow? Or in a week from now?”
The attack had been quick and brutal. A dozen winged figures, clad in black and wielding torches and hammers, had descended upon the Boutique in the dead of night, smashing windows, ransacking drawers, and otherwise wreaking havoc. When they failed to find whatever it was they had come for, they had thrown the torches back inside and let the ravenous flames consume whatever was left. Rarity still remembered the horrible, gut-wrenching feeling as she had watched them fly away with the house burning below.
“I... I guess...” Twilight stammered, trying and failing to find a way to reassure her friend. “But, the one thing I still don’t understand is... why?” She gave an angry sigh. “It just doesn’t make sense! You’re a dressmaker! You don’t have any volatile experiments, or rare animals, or dangerous contraptions, and they obviously didn’t want designs, considering, well, this,” Twilight said, gesturing at the ash littering the ground. “I just don’t see why anypony would make the effort to perform such blatant-” She broke off as a sudden glimmer of light from the ash-filled heap in front of her caught her eye. “Er... Rarity?”
“What?” the unicorn replied bitterly “If you’re asking me, save your breath. I haven’t the faintest why anyone would want to destroy my life, but-”
“No,” said Twilight, gingerly stepping over a blackened wooden spar to get a closer look. “Rarity, what’s that?” She pointed at a nearby patch of ground, where the faintest gleam of blueish light could be seen underneath a blanket of rubble.
“I... I’m not sure,” said Rarity, shifting away a section of the debris with her telekinesis. “Nothing else shiny enough to be valuable survived...” With Twilight’s help, they had soon moved most of the rubble away from the glimmer. Working jointly, they picked up the last burnt beam and threw it behind them, then gasped softly as the shimmering object revealed itself.
“Oh...” said Twilight, awestruck.
“Oh my.” Rarity was similarly shocked.
There, lying proud amidst the rubble, was a gleaming, two-hooved greatsword, with a blade made of tempered blue steel and inscribed with intricate runes. Set in its hilt was a gigantic diamond, the largest Rarity ever seen.. From the amount of dirt covering it, it looked like it had been buried at some point, but it defiantly refused to attract any grime or ash, and came cleanly away from the ground as the white unicorn lifted it reverently.
“Ah... it... appears that the Gemheart family... may have had some history I was unaware of...” whispered Rarity, levitating the sword and giving it an experimental swing. Huge though it may have been, the blade felt light and fluid in her magical grasp, like she had been meant to hold it all along. She turned to Twilight and gave a small, dangerous smile.
“You do know what this means, Twilight dear, don’t you?”
“Uh... that you’ve just discovered a very important and probably volatile magical artifact that you really should put down and deliver to Princess Celestia as soon as possible?” the unicorn offered meekly. Rarity laughed, though there was no mirth in the sound.
“Oh, I’m afraid not. You see...” she pointed out at the smoking remains of the Boutique. “By destroying my life’s work, those creatures also destroyed my purpose. My calling, as it were. Without that, one is barely a pony. More of a shell, really.” She swung the sword again in a wide arc, spinning in a graceful circle as the blue steel thrummed through the air. “But now, with this, I have a purpose once more. And when one find’s one purpose, one must follow it, or risk living their life unfulfilled. As dear Applejack would put it, ‘a pony’s gotta do what a pony’s gotta do’.” Rarity swung once more, then spun the sword around midair and dropped it to her side in, had she known what it was, would’ve been a perfect Ruby Stance parade rest position.
“Well, what is your purpose?” asked Twilight, dreading the answer.
The dangerous smile returned, and for just a moment, Twilight could’ve sworn she saw a hint of fire in her old friend’s eyes. “Why, isn’t it obvious, my dear?” Rarity pointed the greatsword out to the sky, where she knew, somewhere, the ponies that had destroyed her life lay waiting to strike again.
“Er, I know an excessive amount of self-doubt is usually considered mentally unhealthy, but, well...” Twilight looked around the lab’s component-strewn floor and swallowed as she tapped the odd, bubble-shaped device dominating its center. “Are you sure this will work?”
Across the room, another unicorn, identical to her in every way save for a scar and patch over her eye, gave a snort. “Why are you asking me? You invented it.”
Twilight huffed angrily. “Using designs and ideas you planted in my head using the Trans-Chronal Subconscious Suggestion Ray!” She facehoofed. “Why in Celestia’s name did I ever think inventing that would be a good idea?!”
“If I remember correctly, there were copious amounts of hard liquor and applejuice ingested that night, sometimes in combination,” replied Future Twilight, ducking out of view to tighten an unseen rivet.
“That seems about right,” Twilight sighed. She walked over to the machine’s opposite side, watching herself over her shoulder as she finished the final tune-up. Now there’s a situation you don’t see every day, she though, then, remembering their previous conversation, said, “So, can we review the plan one more time?”
Future Twilight nodded. War-marked and battle-scarred as she was, she was still Twilight Sparkle, and Twilight Sparkle never passed up a chance to review.
“Right. Stage One,” she said, gesturing to a chalkboard that had suddenly materialized behind her. “We activate the time machine, setting a course for Ponyville twelve hundred years from now.” A pointer appeared beside her, and she tapped the second step outlined on the board. “Stage Two. We arrive in New Ponyvillage, where the evil Zarthenox empire has taken total control of all of Equestria, and commandeer a freighter.”
Twilight raised her eyebrows dubiously. “Total control? Sure the princesses would be able to repel any kind of direct invasion, regardless of magnitude.”
Her future self nodded, shuddering. “It sounds outlandish, I know, but trust me. They’re there, all right.” She cleared her throat and continued. “Anyway. Stage 3. Using our combined magical prowess and piloting skills-”
“Of which I need to remind you are nonexistent on my part,” Twilight interrupted.
Future Twilight shrugged. “You’re a fast learner.” She turned back to the board, rapping it again. “As I was saying... using our magical prowess and piloting skills, we successfully pilot the freighter off-world and dock with the rebel moon base that, for the last nine months, has been preparing for a devastating strike at the heart of the New Zarthenoxian capital. Stage Four: With our combined magical power, we’ll be able to activate the four point eight Jigawatt laser that-”
“Jigawatts?” Twilight frowned. “I’ve never heard of a power measurement called-
“It’s a valid unit of measurement!” Future Twilight replied defensively. “Anyway, with us both powering the laser, it should reach critical capacity in a little under twenty minutes of channeling, vaporizing the central Zarthenox mind-control node that’s keeping the populace under control. After that, the ground teams will begin to drop-pod in, and we’ll head back to the machine and return to your time as saviours of the world.”
“That’s it?” asked Twilight. She gave a sarcastic laugh. “Whew. For a minute I was expecting something diffic- hang on.” She frowned, squinting at the chalkboard. Underneath the outline of Stage Four, there was a single sentence that looked like it had been hastily erased. “Stage Five... does that say...” she felt her cheeks redden. “‘Sexy clone makeouts?!’”
Future Twilight blushed heavily. “It was just an idea. I mean, it would have copious scientific value... probably...” She shook her head. “Sorry. I’m... we’re getting distracted. Let’s just get into the machine and head to New Ponyvillage before the Zarthenox turn any more innocent pony’s minds to jelly."
Twilight nodded and turned toward the machine, jumping into a seat and strapping herself in. Beside her, her future self did the same, and the machine’s top closed above them with a pneumatic hiss. Future Twilight punched in some coordinates on the machine’s keypad, and the room around them began to warp and spin as the machine prepared to tunnel through the dimensional soil of space-time.
“Hey, Twilight?” asked Twilight, even as the room began to coalesce into a single point of light in front of them.
“Yes?” replied Twilight, voice barely able to be heard through the roar of the dimensional rift opening around them.
Some are obvious, shining in the forefronts of our minds like lighthouses in a storm. They’re the doers, the saviors, the glowing examples of equinity that we all look up to every day. The princesses. The EMTs. The fire department. Take your pick. They’re all the same.
Then you have the personal heroes. The smaller ones, the ones who can lift you up with just a smile and a wave. They’re unique from pony to pony. Some don’t even have one, others just don’t know it yet. They’re lovers, brothers, parents, friends. The ones you can lean on when it gets rough. The ones who would follow you to hell and carry you back. The ones you can count on, day after day, to support you in anything you do.
And then there’s me.
I’m not sure where I fall. I’m not a good pony. I’ve done things I regret, and most of my life is a reflection of that. I’m selfish, in a way. Thinking that if I save just a few more, try just a little harder, then maybe the ever-present guilt gnawing at my gut will recede just a little. It’s a stupid hope, but I cling to it anyway, because it’s the only thing I have. Because heroes can’t have heroes.
The Manehatten night is chilly and dark, and I repress a shiver as I make my way down the alleyway, hooves clicking down the cobblestones like a pair of castanets. I reach the alley’s end and turn off into another, following a route that’s been burned into my mind from the hundreds of times I’ve walked it. At this point, I’m fairly sure that I could do it blindfolded if I had too. Never a bad skill to have.
There’s a grunt and a shuffle of hooves, and all of a sudden I’m thrown against the rough stone wall by shadowy figure. I shove it back, suppressing a yell of surprised pain, and then suddenly go rigid as I feel the steel pressed against my throat.
“Sh sh,” a gravelly voice whispers softly. “No talkin’. Just relax, and I won’t kill you.” It’s a stallion. My age, maybe a little older. Armed, roaming around in the darkness, looking for unsuspecting mares. It doesn’t take a genius to know what he wants.
“Now, why dontcha just lean ‘gainst that wall over there, and we can get started?” he asks with a horrible chuckle. His breath smells like cheep booze and cigarettes, and I nearly gag. I can barely make out his face now, a wide, brutish muzzle with two eyes set deep into the skull like lodestones.
“C’mon, beautiful,” he says, pressing the switchblade harder against my neck. The tip of the blade pierces the skin, and I feel a tiny trickle of blood worm its way out and begin to drip down my shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to have to damage the merchandise.” Another chuckle. This one turns into a hacking smoker’s cough halfway through, and he takes the tiniest of steps back as he wheezes.
Big mistake.
I drop low against the alley wall, curling into a ball and lashing out with my hind legs. They hit him directly in the chest, and he stumbles back, tripping over a pile of garbage and landing in a heap. I waste no time in leaping on top of him, grabbing the knife from him in my mouth as I do so. He’s still coughing, a combination of his tar-filled lungs and getting the wind knocked out of him, and it’s nearly a minute before he’s recovered enough to choke out a “Oh shit. Oh, shit. Please don’t kill me. Please! I... I was just messin’ I never wanted to... shit shit shit...” He begins to sob, dirty tears streaming down his cheeks, and I smile, knife still in my mouth. I worm it around with my toungue so it’s in a position where I can still talk and look down at him.
“You want me to drop the knife?” The sound of my own voice seems louder than a gunshot in the stillness of the evening. Even talking is a risk, a stupid one, but I’m a stupid pony.
He nods, sniffling and licking the mucus off his face. Pathetic. He’s a blight, a boil on Equestria’s skin. A good pony would knock him out, turn him in, and let him spend the rest of his worthless life rotting in a dirty cell.
I’m not a good pony.
“All right,” I say, easing up on him slightly. He gives a grateful gasp. “I’ll drop the knife.” And with that, I rotate it back around in my mouth, take aim, and spit it straight between his hind legs.
The stallion drops back against the garbage bags, screaming in pain as he thrashes like a fish out of water. I watch, impassively, as he manages to grab the blade and pull it out, eliciting another scream as a small fountain of blood erupts from where it used to be. He looks at me, eyes clouded with tears and pain, and sobs, “Who... who the fuck are you?”
I get to my hooves and turn to leave. “Nopony important.” He gives a pitiful whimper, but I don’t look back, walking the rest of the way down the alley and turning another corner. Here, in a black box at the end of a dark corridor filled with trash, rust, and graffiti, it sits: the reason for my existence. The only way I can look myself in the mirror in the morning and not wish nopony was there. My call. My purpose. My other life.
I smile and pop the box’s latches open.
The costume’s purple silk is cool and comforting to the touch as I slip it on. First the skintight catsuit, then the veil, then the mask, condensing the world into a darker, bluer version of itself. Then on goes the cape, fastened with a deft trick of the teeth that I taught myself years ago. Then the hoofwraps, tight around each limb to make my steps light and my impacts hard. Then, finally, the wide-brimmed hat. My trademark, and usually the only thing the ponies who see me remember. ‘The mare with the hat’, they say. ‘She swooped out of the darkness and saved me, then she was gone’.
The mare in the hat. The angel of the night. The suited crusader. Mysterious. A hero. A menace. A silent protector.
A Mare-Do-Well.
"The Worst That Could Happen" (Prompt 104: Re-run of Prompt 10)
Prompt: Two ponies go into a bar. One gets extremely drunk.
(The other only gets kinda drunk)
Canterlot Castle, Equestria, Present Day
Celestia moaned, barely managing to raise an exhaustion-weighted hoof to rub her horribly aching head. Her mane splayed limp and dull over the bed’s pillows, looking much the same way she felt. Tired, achy, and nauseous, with a headache to rival the pounding of an orchestra composed entirely of timpanis.
Turning her thumping head to the side, she saw Luna spread-eagled on the floor of the Sun Princesses’ bedroom, still snoring gently. Normally such a thing would be considered highly unconventional, but then again, whatever had transpired last night had obviously been highly unconventional as well.
What did happen last night? Celestia asked herself, coughing and barely managing to fight down a wave of nausea. She glanced around the cool darkness of the room, trying to find any clues as to she and her sister had done...
Wait, she thought, the realization hitting her like a bolt from the heavens. Cool darkness? She turned towards the window, gasping as she saw the night sky outside. It was probably around three a.m, judging from the position of the moon, and Gods only knew how long it had been that way. Groaning in pain and frustration, Celestia immediately attempted to shove herself up from the bed...
...And promptly collapsed right back down again as her headache intensified to the point where her entire existence was nothing but bright, blinding pain. She coughed, blinking tears out of her eyes, and rolled back over away from the window. I’m not even in a fit state to walk, she thought, let alone raise the sun for the morning. She sighed resignedly. I suppose Equestria will simply have to sleep in today.
And with that thought, she realized exactly what was ailing her. The thought was outlandish, almost comical, but it was the only proper explanation, short of drugging or an assassination attempt, both of which would have probably been met with considerably more hullabaloo.
No, there was no denying it.
Celestia, Princess of the Sun, Monarch of the Day and Royal Guardian of All of Equestria, was hungover.
Stout’s Keg Hall, Manehatten, Three Hours Prior
“ALL SHALL BOW BEFORE ME OR DESPAIR!” a dusky-blue unicorn mare shouted, the sheer volume of the words rattling the tavern’s darkened windows. The bar’s few remaining patrons winced, covering their ears and dropping to the floor to avoid any stray pieces of furniture. The alehouse was in shambles. Broken glass and spilled drinks covered the floor, stools lay upturned, and most of the tables were broken and splintered against the adjacent wall. In the center of the ruin, the mare stood atop the pool table, continuing with her speech:
“I AM THE DARKNESS THAT STALKS THE HEARTS OF WICKED MORTALS, THE RECKONING OF THE NIGHT! THE SLAYER OF BADNESS! THE TERROR IN YOUR SALAD! THE... the...” The mare paused, looking contemplative, before suddenly convulsing and letting loose with an enormous burp. She appeared to find the expulsion utterly hilarious, and was soon rolling across the table’s velvet surface, caught a wave of uncontrollable giggles.
Across the room, a pearl-colored unicorn peeked up from behind the remains of a table and quickly joined the other mare’s laughter as she surveyed the destruction around her. “You... Lulu... you broke everything! We’re... we’re gonna be in sho musch trouble...” she gasped between giggles, swaying slightly as she navigated across the glass-covered no-pony’s-land that had once been the pub’s floor. Luna appeared to find the realization equally hilarious, and soon both mares were leaning against the pool table’s edge, laughing uncontrollably.
“Oh yeah?” countered Luna, still chortling. “Well, guess what? Nothing you say is true, ‘cuz you’re drunk!”
Celestia rolled her eyes. “Well, so are you!”
“Nu-uh!” Replied the other mare, sticking out her tongue. “You’re really drunk! I’m jus’... jus’... kinda drunk.” They stared at each other, each taking in the utter absurdity of the accusation, before resuming their respective giggling fits.
“Oh, ye think you’re funny, eh?!” A huge, burly stallion with a large mustache and a cutie mark of a mug of ale emerged from behind what once had been the bar’s counter. “Ye think yer so buckin’ clever, wreckin’ me bar like ‘twas a kiddie’s sandpile!” he roared. “Well, Ah’ve got news for ye, yes Ah do!” He gestured furiously to around him, a large vein throbbing in his thick neck. “Ye are gonna clean this up, all of it, right now, or ye are gonna feel the Wrath Of Stout like ‘twas never felt before!” He stomped over to the pair, breath streaming heavily from his nostrils, and folded his hooves. “Well?”
The two mare’s merriment subsided in the face of the chastisement. They glanced at each other, then back at the furious bartender, and then back at each other again. The silence was almost palpable.
Then Luna bopped Celestia on the nose, and they both promptly re-exploded into fits of laughter.
Stout roared, grabbing each mare by the scruff of their necks like they were nothing more than toys, and spun in place several times before letting loose, sending the pair rocketing out into the dark street like hammers from the shotputt.
“And Ah’m sending ye the bill!” Stout shouted, before slamming the door and retreating back inside what remained of his establishment. He didn’t know, of course, that both ponies had been knocked into blissful unconsciousness by their sudden rendezvous with a nearby wall, and were currently snoring peacefully, oblivious to all around them.
Stout’s Keg Hall, Four Hours Prior
“And then I said, ‘well, maybe if you weren’t such an idiot, I wouldn’t have to re-engineer the laws of nature so you can understand them!” a pearly-coated unicorn said, rolling her eyes. “Hey, can I drink another ha... I mean, have another drink?”
Her companion, a pegasus stallion with a dark blue mane, laughed and gave her an affectionate pat. “Sure. It’s on me.” He smiled. “You’re a really interesting mare, you know that... uh...” He gave an embarrassed blush as he realized he had forgotten his conversationalist name.
“Celeste!” the unicorn said, a little too loudly. “I’m Celeste!” For some reason, the mention of her name seemed to set something off, and she giggled again. It was a nice sound, pleasant and melodious, like bells. Soarin’ couldn’t help but think he had heard it somewhere else before, perhaps after a show.
The pegasus nodded. “Well, Celeste, it’s been great talking to you. You’re definitely one of the most... interesting... mares I’ve met,” he finished awkwardly, quickly adding, “not that that’s a bad thing or anything!”
Celeste paused, eyes narrowing as she appeared to process something the pegasus had said. Then, with a slow, sultry blink, she leaned closer to the stallion, her tail curling slowly around his torso like a viper. “You know...” she said, in a voice that was obviously trying to hit the tone of ‘alluring’ but instead fell several leagues off into ‘slightly confused and definitely intoxicated’, “I’m interesting in other ways too...”
Soarin’ felt his pulse quicken as he realized the mare’s intention, and his mind promptly initiated a short but vicious battle with another, more... sensitive region of his body.
Dad always said, he thought, sweating bullets as Celeste’s breath blew hot in his ear. Don’t stick it in the crazy, Soarin’. Never the crazy. But she was so beautiful, and interesting, and practically coming on to him already...
“Well?” She turned to him, running a hoof gently down his chest, and smiled that smile again. “What’ll it be, flyboy? Are you gonna come with me, or will I have to-” Ah, dad was a boring ol’ coot anyway, Soarin’ thought with a mental kick to the ‘Logic and Rationality’ department of his brain. He smiled back, and then he was suddenly pulled up against Celeste’s soft coat in a long, hard, kiss that felt like it was draining the brain from his skull in the most pleasurable way possible. If this is crazy, he thought, with the few remaining neurons that weren’t in the process of being shorted, I could get used to it.
Manehatten Outskirts, Eight Hours Prior
“Are you sure this will work, Sister?” Luna glanced at Celestia nervously from behind her thick mirrored sunglasses, forehoof running up and down the length of her unfamiliar, stubby horn. “I understand your desire to connect with the subjects-”
“Civilians,” Celestia corrected, rolling her eyes. She too had taken the form of a young unicorn mare, but her coat was a pale pink, and her cutie mark a cup of tea. “And yes, I’m positive. It will be good for you, Luna. A night out on the town, seeing the sights, interacting with other, normal ponies like on of them...”
She glanced out at the Manehatten skyline, already glittering in the sun’s last light, and smiled.
“Besides. We’re still goddesses. What’s the worst that could happen?”
So this was it, then. This is how it was gonna end. Not with a bang or a whimper, but a desperate last stand by the only pony left. Fine. I’d never been one for sentimentality anyway.
My hooves were shaking, but I managed to steady them enough to take a long swig from my last bottle of brandy. I finished it, feeling the warm glow spread through my stomach, and threw the now-empty bottle through the remains of a window, where it shattered on the street with a sound like a gunshot. They would be coming now, any minute. Good. Let 'em.
I turned to the wall behind me, running my forehoof along the knotted wooden surface as I re-read the line engravings that took up most of its length. They were simple, just a name, date and cutie mark. Little shards of ponies the Wasteland had broken.
Jericho. Orion. Flint. Joker. Coriander. Orchid. Terra. Good stallions and mares, all trying to make the most out of the hell they had been thrust into. Their only crime had been survival, and now all of them were gone, most in the blink of an eye. Just like all the other ponies all those years ago.
Just like I was about to be.
I could hear them already, the low, haunting moans, drawn to my scent and the noise of the bottle. The sounds came from everywhere, every corner of every street, and I gave a twisted little smile. It was time.
Humming to myself, I walked over to the club’s ruined counter, taking my most prized possession off its spark battery and setting it on my head. I had fought for it tooth and nail, pleaded for it, bribed and begged and killed for it. How stupid it seemed now. But at least it would afford me a bit of entertainment before the end.
The PipBuck booted to life, the Stable-Tec logo flickering up for a split second before it was replaced with a simple picture display. I fiddled with the controls, my horn glowing as I looked for an appropriate selection.
What kind of soundtrack can you give death?
The moans grew closer, and I sighed, flicking the tab near the device’s top and pressing a button. There was a rush of static, and my earphonescrackled to life.
Oh, this would do nicely.
I hummed along with the music, swaying back and forth to the pulsing beat as I checked and re-checked my battle saddle, sidearm, and ammo. Twelve clips. Enough to take out at least fifty, if I aimed well. But I wasn’t concerned with numbers. I was going to die today, there was no question of that. The only variable was how long it would take.
I saw the first ghoul enter through the club’s ruined door and dropped it with a single headshot from my pistol. The report elicited a chorus of moans from all around me, and I smiled as the minigun’s motor roared to life.
“You want, some, fuckers? You want some juicy Spicer meat?” I gave a maniacal laugh as the music swelled in my ears and the first wave of horrors came pouring in.
“Well, guess what?” The minigun jerked and spat out a storm of lead, turning the first three ghouls into a reddish paste.
“You’re gonna have to fight me for it.”
A chorus of screams answered my challenge, and I gave another laugh as I ran towards the frenzied, frothing mob. “This is for everypony you’ve taken!” I screamed to the Wasteland. I imagined him looking back, a bleached, bony colt with eyes the color of pitch. “Every dream you’ve broken, every love you’ve shattered. I’m Spicer, your worst nightmare, and I’m coming for you, you son of a bitch!”
The screams got louder, my gun roared, and all the while, the music flowed on, keeping a smile on my face as I threw myself towards the end.
Twilight Sparkle was running as fast her hooves could carry her.
The unicorn’s breath came in short, rasping pants as she bolted through the forest, branches slicing and whipping against her already-bleeding coat. Her mane was dirty and unkempt, with little patches torn away here and there as if they had been bitten. Twilight could care less. Nothing about her mattered now, not her mane, not her coat, not even the large gash on her flank that left a telltale trail of warm blood on the surface of the undergrowth.
No. The only thing she cared about now was the tiny vial clutched in her mouth, its precious contents swishing back and forth inside as she galloped through the trees. That vial contained the only thing that would save Rainbow Dash’s life, and Twilight wasn’t about to stop to rest with her friend fading away even as she ran.
***********
“With all my heart, I wish to lie, but without the cure... your friend shall die,” Zecora said gravely, closing her eyes and turning away from Dash’s bedside.
The cyan pegasus’ expression was one of pure terror, and she grabbed Twilight’s head in her hooves, whispering, “T-Twilight... P-please... I don’ wanna die... I’m scared, Twilight...” She shuddered, her eyelids flickering, before falling back down onto the bed. A second later, her breaths resuming their fast, fevered rhythm, the same sickly metronome they had been adhering to since two nights before.
“You said there’s a cure, Zecora?” Twilight asked. “What is it? Tell me!”
The zebra sighed. “Of one such cure, I know indeed, but it must be found with utmost speed...”
***********
Zecora’s words echoed in Twilight’s head, and the unicorn gave a scream of frustration, urging herself faster and faster along the muddy path. Her well of energizing magic had long ago since run dry, and now the only thing that remained was a steady, burning pain that swirled around her like a deathly tendril.
Twilight gave a choked gasp as her forehoof snagged on a hidden root, sending her sprawling across the Everfree floor. She moaned, a horrible sound, like the last cries of a wounded animal, before forcing herself to her hooves and sprinting on. A wheezing, hacking cough wracked her body, and she slowed only long enough to spit out the blood it had brought up with it before she set off at a gallop again. She was close, so close. She would not fail. She could not fail.
Twilight began to feel her flank and hooves go numb as they pounded relentlessly against the mossy forest floor. Whether from overwork or blood loss, she didn’t know, but at this point, it didn’t matter.
With a final, desperation-fueled leap, the unicorn barely managed to clear the rotting log that marked the path towards Zecora’s hut. This was it. The home stretch. One more mile.
She would not fail.
The world began to slowly dim around Twilight, little motes of shadow dancing just behind her eyes as the unicorn pushed herself ever farther past her physical limit. So close... she thought, even as the blackness began to close in. Can’t fail... Won’t fail... No...
Her vision was all but gone. Her lungs felt like they were slowly collapsing inward. The entire bottom portion of her body was numb. And still, she ran. She would not fail.
Still she ran, past the battered signage that proclaimed “Zecora’s Hut: Half-mile. Trained Zebra shaman specializing in aches, pains, and ailments of all types.”
Still she ran, the salty taste of blood hot filling her mouth as her clenched teeth snapped down onto her tongue.
Still she ran, ignoring the cries of her friends as she skidded onto the path in front of Zecora’s hut.
“Is that... Twilight?!”
“Holy... Twi, sugarcube, you all right?”
“No no no, she’s not all right! Look at her! Come on, we need to help her now!”
“Oh... oh no...”
Still she ran, even as four pairs of hooves reached to try and stop her from slamming the fragile wooden door of the hut aside.
No. Can’t stop. Won’t fail. No...
Still she ran...
“T...Twilight? You... Oh Celestia, you brought it. Twi... Thank you.... thank you so much...” A thin, weak voice came from within the hut’s rapidly-dimming confines, and Twilight collapsed to the reed floor. She smiled, and in a voice even weaker than Dash’s, replied:
“Anything... for a friend...”
Twilight felt the vial being lifted away from her mouth even as Rainbow began a series of deep, hacking coughs. The unicorn’s breath came slower and slower, her grip on the world slowly loosening as the relief of completing her task washed over her like a soothing wave of warm water.
There was a shuffle of hoofsteps at the doorway.
“Where is she? Where’s Twilight? Oh... oh Celestia... no, please no...”
Twilight closed her eyes. Her breaths were little more than whispers now, tiny little things that barely rustled the reeds of the floor.
Dash continued her coughing fit, twisting and choking even as a desperate Zecora tried to force the vial of liquid down her throat. “Your friend, for you, her life may give, drink this now, so that you may live!”
