A series of semi-connected, possibly to-be-continued, vignettes about Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash.
A series of semi-connected, possibly to-be-continued, vignettes about Ponyville's partyingest pony and her dashing companion, set both in the present and the not-too-distant future. Currently featuring:
"MEANWHILE!!!" - We turn our attention to a bizarre and nightmarish alien world -- but is all as it seems? (Takes place sometime between chapters 1 and 2, but I can't retroactively add chapters. Blargh.)
Moon Healer looked incredulously at the slightly injured pegasus mare lying on the hospital cot. “I’m finding your story somewhat hard to believe, Dash.”
“W-whaddya mean?” Rainbow Dash smiled back nervously, her hooves absentmindedly fiddling with the bandages wrapped around her left wing.
“Pardon my skepticism,” the silver-coated pegasus doctor snorted, “But, on the whole, pegasi with your flying prowess normally don’t crash to the ground, and give themselves several nasty sprains in the process, because a ladybug flew into their eye.”
“Er... It was a big ladybug?” Dash bit her lip. “Heh heh.” Moon Healer’s expression remained humorless.
“As your primary maregiver, it is paramount to your continued good health that I receive honest, accurate information about any kind of physical irregularities you may be experiencing.” Dash winced at the words “physical irregularities” but said nothing. “I implore you to be truthful about the circumstances surrounding the incident. You were barely a hundred feet off the ground when it happened this time, but what if it next time you’re miles above ground? What if it strikes you in the middle of the ocean? Or an area with no safe landing spots? Or-”
“Alright!” Dash shouted. “I get it, OK?” She studied the windowsill intently, refusing to meet Moon Healer’s eyes. “It’s just... I-” Her head whipped up, grave seriousness covering her face. “If I tell you, you can’t tell anypony else. Promise me, Doc.”
“Rainbow Dash, the ponycratic oath forbids me from discussing personal information-”
“I mean ANYpony else. Not your family, not the other doctors, no pony.”
“I promise.” Moon Healer nodded. A small pang of guilt ran through her. If what Rainbow Dash told her was serious enough, she might have to break her patient’s trust. She quickly reminded herself the health of her clients came first.
“Lessee, where to begin... You know Pinkie Pie, right?”
“I believe so. She’s the bubbly pink earth pony who works at the candy shop, yes?”
“Uh huh. Well, the thing is, about two weeks ago, we...” Dash blushed slightly. “...we started dating.”
“Indeed? And how would this relate to...” Moon Healer paused, her eyes widening in shock. “Dash... is... is Ms. Pie... harming you in any way?”
“Wha? NO! N...nothing like that.” Dash’s blush increased. “It’s, eh, kinda my fault really.”
“Abuse is nopony’s fault, Dash.”
“Doc! I already told you, Pinkie isn’t hurting me. What’s been happening lately is-” Dash paused, steeling herself for the next part. “When... whenever I daydream about Pinkie, which happens pretty frequently nowadays, sometimes a warm tingle spreads throughout my body. And occasionally, when it gets really warm and tingly... IT happens.”
“It?”
“Y-yeah. Normally I can deal with it because it happens when I’m on the ground, or taking a nap. But today, I was pushing a few low-hanging clouds to the left side of town, and Pinkie spotted me. She grinned and blew me a kiss. And BAM! IT happens.”
“What?” Moon Healer asked. Rainbow Dash meekly whispered two words, unintentionally doing her best Fluttershy impression. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Healer strained to hear Dash’s rushed, slightly shaky response, but it was still unintelligible. “Sorry, once more-”
“CHRONIC WINGBONER!” Dash all but screamed, her face the color of a ripe cherry.
Moon Healer stared at her patient in stunned astonishment for a few minutes. Then she dissolved into uncontrollable laughter.
“Sh-shut up!” A mortified Dash squeaked. “It’s not funny, Doc! My wings were stiff as a brick, and wouldn’t budge until I was about two feet from the ground. If that fern hadn’t been there to catch my fall...”
“My (snnrk) my apologies, Dash. I was expecting something a bit more serious.”
“I’d call not being able to use my wings serious.”
“It can be. But it’s easily treatable.” Moon Healer grinned. “And, if I may be frank, quite adorable.”
“ARRRGHHH,” Dash groaned, trying to hide her face with her hooves. She wished she could just smash through the window and flee from the exam room as fast as her wings could carry her.
“‘Popfeather’ is nothing to be embarrassed over, Dash. You’re young, hormonal, and in love. It’s only to be expected. I half wish I could still ‘pop’ one for my wife.”
“Eww! Doc!”
“I’ll write you a prescription for a natural supplement you can take if you start to feel, heh, stiff.” Moon Healer winked. “And I’d advise you not to overuse it. I’m sure Miss Pie would appreciate knowing the effect she has on you once in a while.”
A tan nurse pony stuck her head into the room. “Dr. Healer? Sorry to interrupt, but are you nearly done? I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to restrain-”
The nurse pony yelped as Pinkie Pie barreled through the doorway, knocking her onto an empty gurney. Pinkie carried a massive saddlebag with dozens of balloons tied to it. Each balloon had the words “GET WELL SOON, DASHIE” written on their surface with pink permanent marker.
“Ohmigosh!” Pinkie said. “Are you ok, Dashie?! I called the ponymedics after you went,” Pinkie mimicked a falling motion with her hooves, “Whooosh! Splat! But they said I couldn’t ride with you because they were taking you to a Cloudsdale horsepital so Twilight used the cloud walking spell on me after I packed a cake and some sodas and lotsa candy and balloons to cheer you up and make you feel better and ARE YOU OK, DASHIE?!”
“She’s fine, Miss Pie.” Moon Healer smiled warmly at the frantic mare. “Nurse? I believe we’re done here.” The nurse nodded, bolting skittishly from the room to free herself from the cotton-candy-colored tornado she’d unsuccessfully held at bay. The doctor followed suit, but just as she was about to walk down the hall, a brief yelp of pain drew her attention back to the room.
Peeking through a crack in the door, she saw Rainbow Dash, her wingspan extended to its fullest length, while Pinkie Pie worriedly massaged the sore muscles in Dash’s bandaged wing. Pinkie once again voiced worry for Dash’s health, but Dash waved off her concerns and gave her a tight embrace. Dash closed her eyes, affectionately nuzzling her marefriend’s fluffy mane, a peaceful smile on her face.
Moon Healer quietly closed the door to give the young couple some privacy. Nostalgia welled inside her. She couldn’t remember the last time her wings had accidentally unfurled in Sky Swimmer’s presence, but she definitely remembered the first time it had happened. She’d been eating dinner with Sky Swimmer’s parents and said something particularly witty. Sky had laughed loudly, and as Healer watched, entranced by the delicate curve of Sky’s mouth- POP! Instant faux pax. And, since Sky had neglected to tell her parents she was dating mares, it had been doubly embarrassing. All things considered, Rainbow Dash had gotten off lightly. Her mind drifted to Sky Swimmer. Even 15 years later, Sky still looked amazing. Healer sometimes wondered how she’d been lucky enough to find a spouse who was so kind, so stunningly beautiful...
RRRRIIIPPPP. Moon Healer blinked in surprise. Her wings had burst through the sides of her lab coat. Patches of torn fabric rubbed against her twitching feathers. “Hmmm,” Healer chuckled quietly, “Still got it.”
There are some... irregularities in Pinkie and Golden’s test results. You need to come here.
-Twilight
Three seconds later the steel doors of Ponyville General Horsepital tore off their hinges. Uneasiness gnawed at Dash as she sat on the uncomfortable waiting room couch. She’d flown at lightspeed, fought gruesome monsters, and, occasionally, saved the world from total annihilation, but nothing knifed her insides harder than the fifteen uncertain minutes she’d spent in the waiting room. Then Twilight came out and explained things to the best of her abilities, but even she looked utterly flummoxed by the circumstances. Another expert was rapidly consulted to inform the confused parties.
Age (and Sky Swimmer’s hoof to the back of her head) had taught Moon Healer something approaching bedside manner, but the urge to groan in disbelief quivered in her lower lip. “Miss Sparkle, you are, are you not, possibly the most esteemed and learned scholar of magic Equestria, or indeed the world, has ever known?”
“Um,” Twilight flinched. “Guilty as charged.”
“Then how could you not know about this?”
Twilight held up a hoof. “To be fair, my studies mostly cover unicorn and alicorn magic. True, I knew about cellular pegasi magic, but I didn’t quite grasp how it could be ah...” Twilight blushed. “Applied.”
A slight groan passed Moon Healer’s lips despite her best efforts. “And the both of you? What are your excuses?”
“mmph,” a sound replied from behind massive wings. Golden Harvest stroked the strings of pink hair seeping through bent feathers. “mpmhrmm mdmm sdmmdn dkksmmmnsn jfunnmssnn.”
“She said ‘After I started living on the ground I went to school in Ponyville.’” Harvest translated for Moon Healer, then bent back down to catch the rest of Fluttershy’s reply. “‘And their- curriculum -didn’t cover the matter at hand.’” Harvest patted the mortified pony softly. “Are you ready to come out now, Canaryface?”
“MMMPH,” the sound growled.
“And I kinda, um,” Dash coughed, “‘missed’ a few classes in flight school for some, ah, extracurricular sleep studies.”
“Including sex ed, I take it.”
“W-well, I figured if I knew the basic plumbing-”
“But knowing what runs through the pipes is just as crucial.” A slightly creaky wing motioned toward Pinkie Pie and Golden Harvest. “Or this is where we wind up.” Moon Healer’s hoof tapped the page she’d opened to in Why Are My Feathers Stiff? A Guide To Your Changing Body: “Chapter 6 - How Did THAT Happen?! Lesbian Couples & Accidental Pregnancies.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
“WHHAAAAAAAAAA???????!!!!!!!” The magenta-hued, rainbow-haired pegasus celestianed Dashalina Joanne Pie shrieked, her irises shrinking to dust specks, her puffy mane deflating slightly.
“Yup, that’s how your dad reacted too,” Pinkie nodded sagely. “Like motherfather like daughter. She wasn’t the worst though. Auntie Fluttershy went completely birdhouse and tried to cut Twilight with a scalpel.” Thank Celestia Moon Healer, resourceful physician that she was, always had a supply of horse tranquilizers to deal with extreme reactions.
Pinkie drew Dashie Pie’s hoof into her own. “I know how it is to be sixteen, bubblemuffin, and it’s fine if you and Apple Quartz wanna bump marshmallows-”
Dashie Pie’s pink face darkened to a cherry red shade. “Whuh- I, uh, d-don’t um...”
“Next time, I’d skip the living room. The air vent connects directly to the one over our bed. And Quartz can be kinda... loud.”
“EEEW!” Dashie ripped her hoof from her mother’s embrace. “MOOOM! Wait. How... how does this, uhm, ‘process’ work, exactly?”
“I sorta forgot most of it,” Pinkie squinted, “But it has something to do with pegasussus’ inherent magicalness. Normally it’s used to boost flight speed n’ stuff, but sometimes, when a pegasi mare and another mare wanna have a lil’ eeny-teeny version of themselves REALLY badly or, sometimes, just kinda badly, the pegasi’s internal magic helps them out! I think your pater can tell you a little more about it.”
“I kinda wish it was dad telling me this.” Dashie’s eyes scanned the room. “And where is dad, anyway?”
A polychromatic blur blasted through the kitchen, drawing a pitcher of orange juice, toast with jam, and a vegetable omelet into its churning maelstrom. “Heypinkheykiddommmthanks breakfastisfantasticpinkhaveagooddayatschoolkiddoohhaylookatthetimegottadashBYE!” it stammered before splintering a plate glass window which stood in its path.
“Your daddy was a skosh more jarred at your (heee!) ‘signs of maturity’ than I was.” Pinkie took out four bits from Dash’s change drawer and dropped them into the “Dash and Dashie’s Glass Smash Repair Fund” jar, shaking her head sadly. “Oh, bluebird. And you were doing so well, too...”
Dashie’s hooves tapped impatiently on the linoleum, her feathers bunching anxiously. “Sooo... are we done here? Am I free to go up to my room and die from embarrassment?”
“Nearly.” Pinkie pulled a small red box, with intricate runes carved into it, out of her mane. “Now, normally, you wouldn’t hafta worry about this stuff until your late 20s or so, but sometimes, there’s a couple... accidents.” Pinkie pried the top off the box, revealing its contents. “Better to be Pinkie-Safe than Pinkie-Sorry!” Inside was a black headband, covered in strange glyphs and symbols glowing faintly against the dark cloth. “Zecora started making these after Ruby and Apple Quartz were born.” Though Pinkie hadn’t been there to see it, Twilight had midwifed and later told her friends that after Applejack had passed two tiny unicorns through her lower body she’d grabbed Rarity by the throat and informed her ‘If yew ever put me through that agi’n, ahm gunna tear off yer horn with mah bare hooves n’ hateshank ya!!!’ And, even though their pregnancy had been planned, Rarity wasn’t leaving anything to chance. “You and Quartz have a ‘study date’ tonight, doncha? Then you’ll definitely need this! It’s a sure-fire lovechild stopper!”
“Th-thanks,” Dashie sputtered, quickly snatching the headband and stuffing it into the amorphous hair cloud bouncing on her back. “But... don’t you need it?”
“Nope!” Pinkie grinned. “Zecora can make another one. And besides, it’s kinda pointless now.”
Nopony could remember a time when it rained so hard. Then again, time itself was at the center of this mess. The Doctor stood defiant, his elegant bow tie frayed at the edges, his holographic disguise melting away as the sonic screwdriver’s power reserves focused on keeping the wormhole open.
“Bye, past mommies!” Dashie Pie waved, her other hoof clinging to Rainbow Dash’s future self. Future-Dash picked up speed, heading for the cosmic express lane the TARDIS had carved. “Sorry I broke the place-time continimimum!”
“You’d better be,” F-Dash said to the bubbly pegasus filly on her back. “Because you’re grounded for a month, kiddo.”
“Horseapples.” Dashie grumbled.
“Dashalina Joanne Pie!” F-Dash scolded. “What did we say about swearing?”
“Not until I get my cutie mark...” Dashie sighed as she and her mother disappeared from sight. The ominous, unnatural clouds lining the sky went with them.
“There we are,” The Doctor smiled. “Timestorm averted.”
“Ingenious disguise.” Twilight mused. “Though I have to say, I think your forehead is slightly smaller when you’re a pony.” The Doctor frowned, staring at the spot in the sky where the hole had been. “Something bothering you, Mister Doctor?”
“Indeed. I wonder if there’s any lingering irregularities...”
Pinkie Pie grinned and hugged Rainbow Dash. “I’m sure everything will sort itself out!”
A column made of iron and nightmares rolled mercilessly onward. Its mind churned with visions of murder. Destruction. Extermination! “EX-TER-” it cried. Then a rusty sword smashed through its armor, bisecting its pulsating brain.
“What the splow was that?” Finn asked Jake.
“Dunno.” Jake shrugged. “But check this out!” Jake tore out the mutant octopus’ voicebox, popping it in his mouth. “FINN! I-AM-A-MO-RON!”
“She’s monstrous, Doctor, simply monstrous! Words cannot begin to describe the indignities I suffer each day at her hooves.”
“Yes, you’ve mentioned-”
“Aw, quitcher hissyfittin’! Tain’t no sunday brunch dealin’ with yer snooty prissitude three hunnert n’ sixty-four, twenny-four seven, but I do it anyhow!”
“My so-called ‘prissitude’ is merely proper etiquette, dear Applejack, something which you are sorely lacking in.”
“Horseapples! Yer jes’ nit-pickin’ so yew kin lord over me with yer fancy rules. Well ah ain’t no droolin’ hayseed! Ah’ve got class t’ spare, but ah kin go out in public without flauntin’ it like a dang peacock with OCD.”
“My, how classy of you, making light of your spouse’s mental disorders. One hopes the twins don’t inherit your ghastly sense of humor.”
“Er, I don’t think you should be bringing your children into-”
“Ex’cer’lent point, doc! Ah think it’d be a mistake t’ bring the youngerns up at this juncture. ‘Specially seeing as ah spent dang near a whole day n’ labor, n’ had tiny horns pokin’ mah innard’sides fer nearly half o’ that. Seven years n’ it STILL stings if ah sit wrong. An’ why, ya might ask, doc, did ah consent this idear?”
“I... I’m not sure I want to know.”
“‘Cause a certain dill-ee-taunt unicorn done told me ‘Darling, I DO want to be a parent, but being the mother would simply ruin my figure! You, on the other hoof, would be able to work it off during the next harvest season. Plus, I have an old family incantation which makes the birthing process completely painless. OH! FYI, this is the point where I should’ve mentioned that, nine months from now, I’ll be too busy blacking out at the sight of blood to get the spell right, and Twilight will sort-of half-assedly fill in. Tee hee! Fashion!’”
“Doctor, it appears my partner feels some roleplaying would be constructive. Shall I go next?”
“Please, don’t-”
“‘Garsh! Why’re y’all jawin’ ‘bout movin’ t’ Canterlot? Mah muddy ol’ an-sus-trull farm has ever’thing them guldurn fancy cityfolk done got! ‘Cept fer culture, lux-er-eee, an’ easier access tuh high-payin’ clients. But dang if we tain’t got the second-oldest apple tree ‘n th’ tri-county area, ah reckon!’”
“Now that there’s news ta me, ‘cuz I wuz under th’ notion yew LIKED bein’ talented enuff ta have fancy customers come all th’ way ta th’ outskirts o’ Ponyville jes’ so’s they kin buy yer wares. N’ as fer lux’ry, ah let ya change th’ house any which way yew wanted. Ah barely recognize th’ place unner all th’ pricey trappings ya bought. Our room looks like a dang lib’rul arts workshop done exploded!”
(Silence.)
“Is ... is that why you’re constantly in the orchards? I- I didn’t think my renovations bothered you THAT much, Jacky. And it’s not as if I can enjoy our furnishings’ plush decadence, considering the picture window in the studio gives me a clear view of my wife working herself to death.”
“WHA?! Yer neighin’ up the wrong tree, Sugar Crystal. Th’ truth is … Ah, erm, ah’ve been a mite ticked thet, even after all this time, ah cain’t seem ta get mah dang carcass back ta its pre-mater’null weight. An’ it don’t help none ah wuz laid up fer th’ first harvest after th’ twins came along.”
“Is that all? Silly Jacky. You could be eight thousand pounds and I’d still sponge off your belly rolls with a smile on my face. Some extra fat is nothing to give yourself a coronary over. In fact, I adore your current shape. It gives you a maternal quality I find quite enchanting.”
“‘Zat a fact?”
“Indeed.”
“Well, seein’ as thet’s th’ sen-na-rio, wouldja be adverse t’ gettin’ a long n’ intimate gander at it?”
“Not at all.”
SLAM!
“Dang. Think we done lost our moderator. Prob’ly fer good, too.”
“Oh, who cares? Ravish me, my gorgeous earth mover!”
“Alright, NOW you can open your eyes,” said a gentle voice.
The pegasus filly did as she was told. She stood at the doorway to a small greenhouse. A dozen or so different plants and trees lined its glass walls. The tiny pegasus’ eyes went wide with excitement. “WOOOOOW!” She buzzed hummingbird fast through the tool shed-sized space, taking in each spot of vegatation with wonder. “You got me my very own greenhouse?!!” A small orange blur rushed through the greenhouse door and latched onto Fluttershy’s neck. “Thank you Papa Fluttershy! Thank you Mama Goldie!”
Fluttershy grinned warmly and returned her daughter’s hug. “Happy 6th birthday, Orange Breeze.” Fluttershy felt another pair of hooves wrap around her. A small kiss brushed against her ear.
Golden Harvest lifted one hoof from embracing her wife to stoke her daughter’s strawberry colored mane. “Now Breezy, this whole greenhouse is your responsibility. You have to water the plants every day and give them fertilizer twice a week, or-”
“Oh I will! I will! Thank you thank you thank you! You’re the best mommy and daddy in all of Equestria!” Orange Breeze squealed with glee, immediately diving back into her birthday present. Golden Harvest watched their daughter fondly for few more moments, then turned her gaze to Fluttershy.
“Worth it?”
“To see her this happy?” Fluttershy nodded. “Abosolutely, totally, one hundred percent worth it. I never would’ve been able to afford something this elaborate unless I helped Rarity and Applejack with their, erm, roleplaying. Even if I learned way more about their sex life than I ever, EVER, wanted or needed to.”
“Well once Breezy tires herself out...” Golden Harvest leaned in close to whisper in Fluttershy’s ear. “...I think I might have something to take your mind off it.”
MEANWHILE!!! In the treacherous depths of The Abrams System lies planet Hermite! A fascistic nightmare world, ruled with a merciless iron hoof by Grand Tyrant Torquestia and her fanatical shock troops The Torquestianators! Her hateful goal: To “purify” the cosmos of “variant” ponies - unicorns, peagasi, or any who aren’t “true” Hermites - and every other mythological creature! But one brave “variant” holds back the tide of Torquestia’s vileness. Lady of Horseflies, Mistress of Kaos, Horsceress Supreme:
NEMESPARKLE THE WITCH!
Last prog, Nemesparkle’s allies Purity Pie and Rainbow Slash were captured and brought to Torquestia’s imperial stronghold, The Sequestrium! Now they stand before the maniacal mare herself, awaiting judgment! Several hundred Torquestianators crowd the high walls and cliff hangings of the grim cavern, their uniforms emblazoned with their leader’s favorite sayings: “Variant Equals Virus!” “No Horns, No Wings, No Problem!” “Merciless, Not Merciful!” “Be Strong! Be Alert! BEWARE!” The terrifying soldiers jeer gleefully at the bound and helpless mares. But their neighs are silenced as the beloved Grand Tyrant addresses the crowd...
TORQUESTIA: Purity Pie! You are accused of violating Hermite’s glorious unity by bucking with this variant degenerate, and aiding the occult marerrorist Nemesparkle! WHAT SAY YOU?!
Flanked on all sides by bigoted murderers, stared down by the universe’s most brutal ruler... Rage and defiance, not fear, fill the small pink resistance fighter! Rage for all the innocent ponies and monsters sent to Torquestia’s Fiery Furnaces in the sadistic overlord’s brutal campaign of intergalactic hate!
PURITY PIE: I say... DEATH TO TORQUESTIA!
The Torquestianators whinny with fury, tossing rocks and debris at the accused.
RAINBOW SLASH: That goes double for me! I’ll buck with whoever I want, you genocidal psycho! I love Purity, and nothing will change that.
TORQUESTIA: Really? I believe you’ll find it difficult to feel much of anything after a dip in my InSinerator! Sister Punch! Into the cleansing flame with this overgrown pigeon!
BARREN PUNCH: By your command, Grand Tyrant!
Rainbow Slash struggles frantically to spread her wings, but the leather restraints hold tight as Torquestia’s minion lifts her. She plunges into the InSinerator’s vast red maw, screaming obscene death threats to the grinning Grant Tyrant which are soon drowned out by the roaring flame.
PURITY PIE: SLAAAASSSHIIIIIEEEE!
TORQUESTIA: There, there. Chin up, little one. You’ll be joining her in the ash grate soon enough!
Suddenly, a familiar voice echoes in Purity’s mind.
NEMESPARKLE: Purity ... do not be afraid ... surrender to the furnace … and find freedom!
PURITY PIE: Nemesparkle?
Purity barely has time to ponder this cryptic message before she is dropped into the raging inferno beneath! But seconds before she makes contact with the flame, a white light fills her vision. And when it fades...
PURITY PIE: Slashie! You’re alive?!
RAINBOW SLASH: Thanks to Nemesparkle! She attached a teleportation spell to the InSinerator.
Slash gives Purity an ornate, extremely lethal laser-saddle. It is then Purity notices the dozens of ponies, monsters, and assorted spooks armed to the teeth with state-of-the-art weaponry, standing behind her pegasus companion.
RAINBOW SLASH: A teleportation spell that leads directly to the Grand TorquestiArmory!
Meanwhile, back in the Sequestrium, Torquestia’s suspicions are raised. She wonders why she doesn’t hear the satisfying pop of bones vaporizing, the musical screams of variant death rattles. There can be only one explanation!
TORQUESTIA: NEMESPARKLE!
Almost on cue, the Sequestrium’s vast ceiling collapses, raining debris on the assorted crowd. Torquestinators skitter frantically to avoid being crushed by the lethal downpour, but many are not so lucky...
And, as the dust parts, an infamous ship appears. The purple-and-green striped starfighter The Blitzspike, piloted by none other than Nemesparkle herself! It shoots into a spiralling kamikaze dive, aiming straight for Torquestia!
NEMESPARKLE: I don’t know how you survived being drowned in the Sewer Cosmick, but I don’t care! IT ENDS HERE, TORQUESTIA!
Before the Grand Tyrant can move, The Blitzspike smashes into Torquestia’s official Decree Sofa. Nemesparkle emerges, searching for the dictator’s corpse among the rubble.
She finds ... nothing!
NEMESPARKLE: Strange. There should at least be a big red smear on the nosecone.
TORQUESTIA: Think again, arch-variant filth!
Floating above Nemesparkle is a gruesome visage. Her enemy has become a decaying, larger-than-life phantasm, whose ectoplasmic bulk looms mightily overhead!
TORQUESTIA: You see, I didn’t survive the Sewer Cosmick’s brackish waters. No matter. Mere death can’t stop me from carrying out my sacred duties! Though dodging your ship did leave me quite famished. Sister Punch!
BARREN PUNCH: Yes, Grand Tyrant?
TORQUESTIA: I require a host body.
BARREN PUNCH: Coming right up!
Sister Punch grasps her head, giving it a sharp yank with her hooves that ends with a sickening crack. A gelatinous, partially translucent wave swarms into the departed pony’s nose and mouth. Torquestia rises on shaky legs, feasting from her loyal minion’s fading life energy.
TORQUESTIA: Aaaah, delightful. And now that I’m refreshed, time to purify your rancid existence with my bare hooves!
Miles below this terrifying scene, surrounded by heavily-armed rebel troops and mountains of artillery, five brave ponies discuss their next move:
Purity Pie! Leader of Neato, the anti-Torquestia hermite pony resistance movement!
Rainbow Slash! The fearless pegasus divebomber, whose razor-sharp wings can slice through time itself and summon Weather of Mass Destruction!
Flutterstein! The mechanized warhorse pacifist, programmed to fight until she ends every war in the universe!
Jackie Apples! An old-fashioned harvesting robony turned Hermite killing machine, but her love for a “variant” overrode her programming and made her a Hermite-killing machine!
Raritte! Seamceress extraordinaire, and lone survivor of the Hermite-”purified” unicorn planet Karro!
Hoofpicked from across the farthest reaches of the galaxy, they are Nemesparkle’s greatest allies in the fight against Torquestia: The Elements of Khaos!
JACKIE APPLES: >>KKZKT<< Goshadangit, y’all! Why’re we sittin’ ‘round jawin’ when ah >>ZKKT<< could be vaporizin’ ‘mites?
RAINBOW SLASH: ‘Cuz Nemesparkle told us not to interfere. The attack on the Sequestrium is a diversion to draw those a-hole Torquestianator security forces away from our real target. Flutterstein?
From Flutterstein’s eye-lenses comes an unsettling holographic image! A dank, grime-caked fortress lit by a silvery, sterile light, its spiralling towers and walkways twisting into grotesque shapes which stretch far into the horizon. The scene pulls back, revealing more and more architectural permutations, extending seemingly forever, until the exact nature of the structure is revealed - a solid iron ball suspended in space, Hermite barely visible behind it.
And, horrific as it appears, the real horrors are what’s inside this gargantuan dungeon. For this is none other than Torquestia’s intergalactic detainee camp - THE NIGHTMARE MOON!
RARITTE: Marelin’s Mane! Has Nemesparkle utterly flipped her horn?! Even with all this exquisite firepower, we’ll be torn to ribbons by that ghastly pit’s security forces.
FLUTTERSTEIN: N-normally, yes. But >>UM<< they’re on their way to deal with N-Nemesparkle’s’ attack on the Sequestrium, leaving us f-free to >>UM<< carry out the plan.
JACKIE APPLES: N’ what >>KKZZT<< th’ hay IS th’ plan?
PURITY PIE: Glad you asked, J.A.! Nemesparkle told me to keep it ulra-super-duperty secret until she gave the all-clear. We’re gonna spring Notstradamus from the clink!
RARITTE: Torquestia’s demented aunt?
JACKIE APPLES: Ya mean th’ >>KKKZZKKT<< nutcase what scrabled mah brainwires n’ >>ZZZKKTTT<< made me dee-stroy innasent folks?! Purity, darlin’, tell me th’ plan ends with me >>ZZTTK<< puttin’ a death-beam ‘tween thet ‘mite’s peepin’ holes >>TTTKZZ<<!
FLUTTERSTEIN: Y-yes, it seems to me >>UM<<<rage>BATHING IN A FOUNTAIN OF HER STILL-WARM BLOOD</rage> would bring significant p-peace to the >>UM<< universe.
PURITY PIE: Sorry, girls! We gotta keep that nasty psychopants alive. Nemesparkle said something about “blah blah blah ‘shocking cover-up’ blah blah blah ‘damning secrets’ blah blah blah ‘Purity, for the love of Marelin pay attention to what I’m’ blabbity blah blah.”
RAINBOW SLASH: You heard the mare, ladies. One Hypersonic Rainbeam comin’ up! Bang, zoom, straight to Nightmare Moon!
RARITTE: Wait! Before you do, let me cast a nausea-cancelling spell. Crossdimensional travel is nightmarish on my digestive traaACCKKK!!!
The finicky unicorn’s protests are silenced by the Hypersonic Rainbeam’s eardrum-imploding roar! The five warponies tumble through temporary holes in space-time towards an ominous black iron prison, whose sharp-angled towers cover the whole of the lunar surface … Whose dank holding cells are home to the most dangerous and depraved minds, pony or alien, in the Hermite Empire … Where a forgotten soul sits in the dark, waiting for her chance to utterly destroy the Grand Tyrant and all she holds dear ...
“A... amusing?” Mayor Mare sputtered. “Your Highness, this ... periodical ... is borderline treason! Not to mention totally obscene. Have you seen this cover?!” The stately earth pony angrily shook the glossy-covered pamphlet in Celstia’s face to emphasize its hideousness.
The front cover had an angular, chrome-plated logo reading “3000 CE.” A subtitle beneath the logo helpfully informed the reader this was “The Weekly Equestrianthology of Odd Futures.” Besides the main panel, depicting Nemesparkle the Warlock being menaced by a ghoulish multiple-hooved/headed Torquestia, a sidebar advertised other stories running in the issue: Mareshal Law, which featured a leather-clad pegasus ponicemare kicking a mare with a tattered cape and fedora whose grotesque mask read "Mare-Do-Hell"; The Invisibelles, a group of outlandishly stylized spy ponies; and Big Dana, a gargantuan earth pony with a sinister grin whose accompanying caption read “The Ongoing Adventures of the Toughest Mare In Manechester!”
“But don’t worry about a thing, Princess!” Mayor Mare said. “I believe I’ve found one of the parties responsible.” The tan ponitician whistled. “Bring forth the evidence against you, deviant!” The Mayor’s chest welled with civic pride at thought of this treasonous fiend receiving her due comeuppance at the Princess’ hooves.
A grumbling Rainbow Dash flew sluggishly into the room, her movements greatly restricted by cumbersome saddlebags. Each pouch held a greasy cardboard box, overstuffed with copies of 3000 CE. Dash landed clumsily before the throne, comics cascading out of their boxes onto the palace floor.
“I caught this one distributing these foul rags to a newsstand. She claims she doesn’t know who writes, draws, or prints this material. But I believe she knows more than she lets on.” The Mayor casually tapped an upturned box. “Tell me, Ms. Dash, why is there a striking similarity between these boxes and the ones used by a certain Ponyville bakery?”
“Bite my bag, City Hall!” Dash said, gripping her saddlebags and pantomiming the exact way in which The Mare could perform this action. “You can throw me in a cage, but you’ll never make me sing!”
“Enough.” Celestia said. Both ponies instantly fell silent. “Mayor, I just don’t see the problem here. This material is fairly harmless.”
“Fairly... Are- are we reading the same magazine, Your Highness? It’s filled with lewd humor! Senseless violence! Fantastical nonsense!”
“Indeed. In other words, a delightful reading experience.” Celestia turned to the pegasus fidgeting on the palace floor. “May I purchase one of these boxes, Rainbow Dash? I know a few specialty bookshops in Canterlot who’d enjoy this type of material.”
The Mayor gaped at the royal figure above her, her mouth opening and closing aimlessly in a manner which resembled a catfish sucking mud from a river bottom.
“Sure thing, Your Highness!” A boiling swarm of color ping-ponged around the room, gathering the scattered, slightly battered, inventory Dash had brought. Within seconds, all the comics were stacked neatly in their original containers. The thrashing confusion of light and form focused itself back into a messily-maned blue mare. “Didja also want the limited edition bookmark set we give to retailers who order 100 copies?”
“Oooh, Yes please!” Celestia gushed.
Mayor Mare pouted inwardly, miffed that her grand gesture of loyalty to the crown had been thwarted by the crown itself. “B-but Your Highness,” she said, “Aren’t you even curious as to who is running this operation?”
“I think I already know,” the solar princess said, giving both mares the most regal and grand frustrated eye-roll either had ever seen.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
“H-how’d you like the latest - eek!” Fluttershy ducked to avoid a metal-tipped pen zooming past her. “Um, latest Nemesparkle chapter?”
“Exceptional storytelling, Fluttershy!” Princess Luna replied. Delicate, shadowy energy lines stretched from her horn, curling around inkwells, pencils, pens, and other assorted drawing tools. The magic-infused art supplies worked diligently on a dozen or more comic pages in various stages of completion, erasers and stencils buzzing furiously around the chaotic mess suspended in the air above the two ponies’ heads. “It never ceases to amaze me somepony gentle as thou could craft a yarn so brutally ribald.”
“O-oh, it’s pretty easy, actually. I take all the things that s-scare me or make me, um, angry, t-then exaggerate them to a p-point where they’re silly instead of, um, t-terrifying.” The pink-maned mare blushed. “‘Brutal,’ Your Highness? I, um, don’t think m-my writing is that... dark.”
“Thou art too humble, gentle one,” Luna smiled. “Was it not thou, cloaked in thine alias Cordwhinnier Bird, whose hooves penned the terrifying flight of fancy in Thrilling Equestriadventure Monthly which caught mine royal eye?” The story in question (about a nameless pegasi being stalked though a twisted, shadowy forest by a polymorphous blob with the voice of her dead marefriend) radiated enough atmospheric spookiness to give Luna herself nightmares. She’d hired Fluttershy for the project almost immediately. “I would advise to do as thou wilt, dear scribe. Thy lunar princess is more than partial to … dark.”
Occult energy smashed the office doors open with a deafening bang. Fluttershy’s defense instincts shifted into “panic!fearESCAPE” mode, sending her shooting under a table. In the threshold stood The Interequestian Publishing Co-Op’s head editor, frustration lining her face.
“Art thou in good spirits, most illustrious editor?” Luna said.
“Hardly.” Twilight Sparkle grumbled, stomping into the cramped IPC-O publishing headquarters (formerly Fluttershy’s storm cellar). She glared at the ghostly image projecting from her horn. “Rarity, the script doesn’t need another revision. You’ve done five already.”
“But Twilight, dear, surely you must understand,” the translucent outline pleaded. “The Invisibelles is not merely an adventure serial on cheap newsprint, but a grand expression of my artistic genius! Not one panel is to be wasted.”
“Hoof it in by the end of the week or I’M going to finish the bucking thing,” Twilight barked. “I swear to Marelin that this staff is going to meet a deadline, even if I have to write an entire issue myself.”
“ah told ya,” a feeble echo of a voice said. Rarity’s reflection shot an annoyed glance at something outside the projection field. “quitcher procrasternatin’ n’ write th’ durn thing already. ah ain’t missed a deadline yet.”
“Easy for you to say,” Rarity huffed in the voice’s direction. “Your stories are nothing but flatulation jokes and ponies getting into ridiculous hooffights. Not to mention Big Dana is clearly you, in an idealized fictional form.”
“n’ queen mob ain’t?! she’s basic’ly you wearin’ a fancy trenchcoat n’ sunglasses!”
“I go where my muse takes me.”
“uh huh. n’ in this pertic’lar case, yer muse is gettin’ a mite perturbed you’re whinin’’ ‘bout comical book stories ‘stead o’ gettin’ ready fer our dinner date.”
“Hey, what are you-” Rarity’s image started to warble. “Applelachia Jack! Don’t you DARE touch the transmission chrys t llllll” it warned as it faded.
Fluttershy, having stopped shaking long enough to assess there were no threats in the immediate area, stood up. She was about to crawl from under the table when the door banged open again. Fluttershy jerked back in terror, accidentally smashing her head into the table’s underside. Starry butterflies danced in her eyes.
“Twilight!” Rainbow Dash buzzed in excitedly, Pinkie Pie clinging to her back. “I-” Her gaze fell on the crumpled form splayed loosely on the floor. “Er, you alright, Fluttershy?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Fluttershy waved dazedly. “I promise I’ll go to the synchronized flying meet, mother.”
“She sounds fine to me!” Pinkie said.
“Alright. Aaanyways, guess which awesome salespony got us distribution in Canterlot?” Dash pointed a hoof at herself. “This one!”
“Excellent!” Twilight grinned. She paused, nervousness subtly creeping into her expression. “And, ah, Princess Celestia is okay with-”
“Yup! Told ya she could take a joke.”
“‘Tis true.” Luna nodded, squinting to adjust a detail on a panel border. “My sister and myself inherited our elders’ infamous yen for mischief and tomfoolery.”
“N-NO, M-Mother!” Fluttershy snarled. “I’m never going to be a-a-an air and field star! Stop trying to m-make me into one! I WANT TO BE MY OWN P-P-P-P-PONY!”
The room fell silent for a moment, all eyes turning to the slightly concussed pegasus standing on her hind legs. Her forelegs angrily squeezed at the empty air, trying to strangle an invisible neck.
“Damn,” Dash whistled. “Somepony’s going to make their marerapist very rich.”
Pinkie reached into her bouncy mane, pulling out half-a-dozen crudely bound manuscripts. “Here ya go, Twilight! I transcribed the next batch of Mareshal Law stories.”
“Thanks, Pinkie.” Twilight said, scanning the pages for typos and grammatical errors as soon as they were in her hooves. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here to make Rainbow’s notebook chickenscratch gobbledygook into legible Equestrish.”
“Hey!”
“She’s right, Dashie. Sometimes when I hafta squint super-duper-extra-de-exterty hard to read whatcha wrote, my eyes are all like ‘NO, Pinkie! Stop doing this or you’ll need glasses in ten years!’”
Dash smiled coyly. “Fine by me. Mares with glasses are hawt.”
A small blush rose on Pinkie’s cheeks (though it was nearly unnoticeable through her magenta fur). “So, umm, Princess Luna, I wanted to ask you something.”
“I grant thee thy query, fair Pinkamena.”
Pinkie held up a page which showed Nemesparkle fighting her way through an alien landscape whose appearance shifted into constant, varied forms. “How did you learn to make your drawings all detailed and stylish like this?”
Luna winced. “Ah… let us- er, me -merely state I took certain … actions … during my imprisonment that I now regret...”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
(The following is an excerpt from Kevin O’ Neill’s dream journal, dated 09/21/12)
Had the bloody nightmares again. Horsething made of shadows tells me to give it drafting lessons to relieve its boredom or be plunged into eternal darkness. Christ, it was unsettling. Strange thing is, when it happens now, it seems almost like a flashback to a bad dream than the actual thing. Still felt just as drained when I woke up, though. I rang Alan to tell him I’d need a day or two off.
“Bleedin’ ‘ell,” his spliff-roasted throat muscles croaked at me through the line, “That’s the second time this month! This barmy shibboleth is already a half pig in the pope’s robes! But hang on a tic. This’ll give me time to fit in another scene with a bird getting rogered in an uncomfortable way! Good on you, Kev!”
(Apologies to the writers and artists of 2000 AD, past, present, and future)
