GREEN
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1265 7.96 KB 163
1265 7.96 KB 163
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>Be Anon.
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>Lazy Saturday, solo picnic under a shady tree.
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>Sandwiches? Check. Lager's lukewarm, but close enough.
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>Pegasi chirping, or maybe gossiping, overhead.
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>Life's good. You bite into your sandwich—
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>"What in tarnation do ya got there, Anon?"
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>Nearly choke on your inner peace.
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>Applejack's standing there, hat tilted, giving your picnic the ol' stink eye.
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>Brow raised, legs spread like you've committed high crimes against Equestria.
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>You glance at your stuff: crackers, fancy cheese, a suspiciously sharp sandwich knife…
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>Innocent, right?
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>Nope. She's glaring straight at—
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>Strawberry jam.
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"What’s wrong with strawberry jam?" you ask, mouth full.
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>"Ain't apple jam."
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>You freeze mid-bite, processing this sudden accusation.
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"There’s… apple jam?"
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>AJ huffs like you just asked if the sky's blue.
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>"Course there's apple jam! Heck, we got Zap Apple Jam!"
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>She beams like it's the best thing since cider.
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"You mean the glowing stuff?"
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>"That just means it's fresh!"
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"Yeah, well... that's a little too much magic for me."
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>Her eyes narrow as if you've insulted her entire bloodline.
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>"Horseapples! Ain't ya ever heard 'an apple a day keeps the doc away'?"
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"It’s not the apples, AJ. It's the zap part. The whole rainbow-glowing, possibly radioactive thing."
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>You gesture at your very human, very magicless body.
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>She squints, eyes flicking back to the jam.
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>"Uh-huh. Still could've gone with plain ol' apple jam."
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>You throw up your hands.
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"Didn't even know it was a thing! Honest!"
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>Silence.
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>For a glorious moment, you think it's over.
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>The jam? Accepted.
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>Apple-shaped bullet? Dodged.
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>Then her gaze sharpens again.
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>"Hold up."
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>Oh no.
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>"Somethin' ain't right here…"
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>You tense.
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>"Not a single bit o' apple in this whole spread!"
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>She jabs a hoof at your crime scene—err, picnic.
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>"No pie. No fritters. Not even a dang slice of apple!"
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>This is it. This is how it ends.
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>Not with a bang, but from a lack of apple-based snacks.
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>"And cider!" Her hoof stomps, sending dirt flying. "Where's the cider, Anon?!"
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>Panic rises. Think fast.
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"I-I already ate the apple?"
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>Bad lie. Terrible, actually. You can feel it crumbling as it leaves your mouth.
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>AJ leans in, dangerously close, the brim of her hat brushing your forehead.
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>"Is that so...?"
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>You freeze, every muscle screaming for you to run, but you know better.
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>Applejack's faster.
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>"Open yer mouth, Anon."
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"W-what?"
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>"Open. Yer. Mouth."
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>Her voice is stone. No room for negotiation.
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>You hesitate, then part your lips.
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>Is she going to… taste-test you?
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>Her tongue darts in with the precision of a world-class apple inspector.
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>Your life flashes before your eyes. Not much to see.
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>She pulls back, squinting, evaluating like she's judging the state fair.
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>"Mmm…"
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>Is she… savoring it?
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>"Whole wheat bread, huh?"
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>You blink.
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>"Bit o' cheddar… fancy cheddar, mind ya."
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>Oh no.
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>"Couple o' leaves o' lettuce."
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>She's dissecting your entire sandwich. You can feel your dignity crumbling into non-apple-flavored pieces.
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>AJ's smug now, tongue tracing her lips like a predator that's found weakness.
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>"But there's somethin' else…"
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>A pit forms in your stomach.
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>"Somethin'… off."
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>Beads of sweat.
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>"There's…"
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>She leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper.
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>"A hint o'… shame."
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>Oh god. She's tasting your soul.
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"T-That's just… uh… picnic anxiety!"
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>"An'…"
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>She inhales deeply, nostrils flaring like she's sniffing out the truth itself.
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>"A smidge o'… Rarity."
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>You flinch.
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"I… I needed new socks."
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>AJ smirks, that knowing look in her eyes.
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>"Oh, sugarcube, I don't care 'bout that."
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>Oh? Well, that's nice—
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>"But what I do care about," she says, voice dropping low again, "is the fact there ain't a single trace of apple anywhere."
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>Her eyes lock with yours, unblinking.
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>"Ya lied to me, Anon."
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>Oh, you're bucked.
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>But somewhere deep inside, a spark flickers.
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>Maybe it's the sandwich. Maybe it's your dignity on its last leg.
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"You know what?"
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>You straighten up, chest puffing out.
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"Maybe—maybe—I just don't like apples that much!"
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>Her brow arches.
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>You push forward. You've come too far now.
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"Yeah! That's right! I mean, you can't just bully me into being an apple lover!"
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>AJ doesn't move. Not a twitch, not a flinch. Just that same, cool look.
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"I'm not some pony who eats apple everything! You can't force apples down my throat! This is my picnic, my sandwich, my—"
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>Thunk.
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>You hit the ground, stars dancing in your vision.
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>Consciousness clocks out early. Doesn't even leave a tip.
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>"Now, sugarcube, I don't wanna sound harsh. But I've been thinkin'. Real hard."
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>Thinking? That's... a new look for her.
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>You'd crack a joke, but—well...
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>You're polite.
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>Also, you're tied to a chair.
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>...And gagged.
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>"Ponies who don't like apples... they're trouble."
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>Oh boy.
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>She starts pacing, hooves clop-clopping.
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>"Think about it! Tirek? Hated apples. Chrysalis? Wouldn't even sniff one!"
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>You nod, mostly because you like having blood flow to your limbs.
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>Also, let's be real—Chrysalis probably does hate apples.
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>"Strawberry Sunrise?" She practically spits the name. "That mare's never liked apples."
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>Her eyes flare. Some deep, fruity betrayal there.
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>You blink in Mhorse code. S.O.S.
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>She doesn't notice.
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>"It's a slippery slope, Anon. First, you say no to apples. Next? BAM. World domination."
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>She leans in, eyes boring into yours like she's uncovered a global conspiracy.
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>"It's my duty—no, my responsibility—to make sure you don't turn into one of them... apple-less villains."
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>You try to protest, maybe throw in a 'I'm not evil!'
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>It comes out more like, "Mmphh mphh."
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>Applejack sighs, looking at you like you've failed some ancient apple-based code of honor.
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>"Now, I know ya don't think you're evil. But lemme tell ya—evil don't come knockin' sayin', 'Howdy! I'm evil, how ya doin'?'"
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>She leans in, breath thick with apples and the certainty of a pony who knows she's right.
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>"It sneaks in... right through yer lack of apples."
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>Is this... happening?
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>"You ain't gone bad yet," she says, eyes burning with righteous fire. "But this 'not likin' apples' business? That's a road to ruin, Anon. It don't lead nowhere good."
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>Her voice drops, dripping with grim wisdom.
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>"First, you avoid apple pie..."
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>She's right up in your face now, the scent of apples and fresh soil overwhelming.
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>"Then? You're buildin' doomsday devices in a basement... with no cider. Full o'... grapes. Or worse."
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>Her hoof clamps down on your shoulder, firm as her resolve.
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>"That's why I'm here. To save ya from yourself."
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>You let out a muffled noise—what was it? Resistance? Defeat? At this point, you're not even sure.
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>Applejack pats your shoulder, far too gentle for someone who just gave you a monologue about fruit-based morality.
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>"Don't worry. We'll fix this. We'll get that apple back in ya, no matter how long it takes."
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>The gag is lifted.
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>Finally. Sweet freedom. You breathe deep.
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>Then—
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>The gag goes right over your eyes.
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"W-What are you—"
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>"Hush, sugarcube," she says, voice sweet as pie. "We're doin' a little test."
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"A what now?"
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>"A blind taste test," she says, like she's leading you to salvation. "Time to re-educate yer taste buds. Gonna introduce ya to real apple products."
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>You can't see her, but you can feel the grin.
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"Oh, Celestia..."
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>"Now hush. This'll be nice and easy. Slow and sweet."
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>Something brushes your lips.
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>"Open wide."
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>Your brain says resist. But what's the point? You open up.
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>Something sweet and tangy hits your tongue.
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>It's… good. Really good. Why were you against apples again?
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>You didn't even bite, and already juice is po—
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>Wait. Hold on.
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"This isn't apple product! That's horse pu—"
by Pony-Oh
by Pony-Oh