/NMP/ /Completed/ Love and muffins


                                            >Be Anon

                                            >Walk through Ponyville town square, with a bag of groceries.

                                            >There is a beautiful day, without any scheduled rains.

                                            >Celestia's Sun shines brightly from a clear azure sky.

                                            >Warm, gentle wind carries cheerful tunes of bird's singing. And a spicy but not unpleasant smell of hundreds of civilized horses.

                                            >And just a bit of manure. Seems like somebody's foal got an emergency.

                                            >SUDDENLY, loud sound of something crashing into the slate roof.

                                            >You begin to spin around, to discern what's going on and whether any danger is coming.

                                            >But adjacent ponies just make frustrated faces and go about their business.

                                            >You see a familiar gray mare sitting on the ground near the Sofas and Quills shop. Her blond mane is disheveled. With a pieces of broken slate tangled in.

                                            >She winces from pain and rolls her out of sync eyes in attempt to look at the large lump on her forehead, adorned with bleeding scratches.

                                            >Door opens and light amber Earth pony stallion steps out.

                                            >"Hi, Davenport! I've got a mail for you." says the mare.

                                            >She gets up and begins to rummage through her saddlebags.

                                            >"Oooooooohhhhhh, Derpy! Not again! I fixed the roof only a week ago!"

                                            >"Am thorry! I jus dunno wha whenron'!" she answers through an envelope in her mouth.

                                            >"Oh, gimme that already!" stallion stomps his front hoof and takes envelope in his mouth, trying hard not to connect lips with the mailmare. And walks back into the shop.

                                            >"What, no tip for the fast delivery?" asks Derpy, sadness in her voice.

                                            >Davenport spits the mail inside through the door.

                                            >"Who would've given ME some tips for the frequently ruined roof? This slate isn't exactly a two-bit bauble!" he snorts and slams the door shut.

                                            >Some more slate rubble fall from the roof.


                                            >Derpy sighs and tries to wobble. Then winces in pain again and decides against it.

                                            >You shake your head and sigh.

                                            >Of course you know the unfortunate gray mailmare. Although you are not acquainted with her very well. But you always feel a strange sympathy for her. You don't know why.

                                            >Maybe you are just a contrarian and act in spite of the mostly universal irritation that accompanies her.

                                            >Maybe it's the fact that she hasn't crashed into your roof or a window yet.

                                            >Anyhow, something nudges you and makes you to step closer.

                                            "Hey, miss Derpy..."

                                            >She turns her face to you and looks at the window and at the nearby ash tree at the same time.

                                            >"Hi, Anon! Sorry, I don't have any mail for you."

                                            >You shake your head again.

                                            "Are you alright?"

                                            >"Eh? Oh, yeah!"

                                            "Are you sure? Your forehead is bleeding."

                                            >She refocuses her gaze so now one of her eyes look at you.

                                            >"I'll manage. I'm a pegasus."

                                            >You sigh.

                                            >You take a glass flask out of your bag. Thankfully a chlorhexidine solution is available from the local alchemists. And you was buying medical supplies for your home among other things.

                                            >You soak a piece of cotton in a flask and carefully apply it to the scratches on Derpy's head.

                                            >Injuries aren't serious, ponies have a skin almost 2 mm thick and rather durable. Others just going for their business as usual in the face of a scratched pegasus mostly because of this.

                                            >But it still isn't settles right with you to not offer any help.

                                            "Here you go!"

                                            >"Thanks a bunch, Anon! Well, I should go now. I'll drop by if there will be any mail for you!"

                                            >She opens her large wings and takes off, raising a cloud of dust.

                                            >You cough, but still stare at her go.

                                            >You just can't get over this. The majesty of a gracious equine shape getting airborne, with a steady, hasteless flaps of the elegant feathery wings.


                                            ***

                                            >Some time later.

                                            >You are going through Ponyville marketplace. With a bag of groceries and a bag of vegetables.

                                            >Going past the small street food stand you see Derpy.

                                            >She buys a muffin. A pony-sized one, which means it's about as large as a whole bread loaf from your home.

                                            >She holds it with her dexterous wings and sniffs, with an expression of delight.

                                            >Too bad she was walking all the time while doing this.

                                            >She stumbles and then collides with a stallion hauling crates.

                                            >Muffin falls straight under his foreleg...

                                            >Derpy looks like she wants to say something, but then she just sighs and flies away.

                                            ***

                                            >Later that day.

                                            >You walk from the laundry, hugging the basket of your washed clothes.

                                            >Near the riverbank you spot Derpy sitting in a tree.

                                            >Looks like she's got another muffin somewhere.

                                            >She licks her lips and prepares to take a bite.

                                            >But the strong gust of wind shakes the tree.

                                            >Derpy loses her grip on muffin. She frantically tries to catch it with her wingtips but fails.

                                            >It falls on the ground, right in a mud puddle.

                                            >The blond mailmare tries to focus her eyes to look at muffin, now ruined and smeared in mud.

                                            >Her ears drop.

                                            >Even from a distance you can see the sorrow on her face.

                                            >You want to go closer, to say something. But again, she opens her wings and takes off.

                                            >The muffin is left lying in the puddle.

                                            >Some sparrows land near it, look around suspiciously and begin to peck.

                                            ***


                                            >You have some free time from your errands and decide to chill out near the fountain.

                                            >You marvel at sunshine diffracting through the water drops.

                                            >Birds are bathing and drinking in a shallow basin.

                                            >Ponies are either strolling around or laying on a benches around the fountain, chatting or just enjoying the weather.

                                            >Out of a corner of your eye you see the familiar gray silhouette.

                                            >Derpy somehow procured the third muffin, which she currently admires while walking past the square.

                                            >Some foals are playing tag around.

                                            >Your guts freeze.

                                            >You want to jump up! To run to her! To make sure that her and her backed treat will be together this time!

                                            >One of the foals, a little unicorn colt,  miscalculates the sharp turn and plops on the stone paving.

                                            >He collects himself up and begins to cry. His friends stop, unsure what to do.

                                            >Other ponies approaching the scene, concerned.

                                            >But Derpy is the nearest one to the foals.

                                            >She looks at the crying foal, then at her muffin, then at the foal again. Each time managing to look at both of them simultaneously.

                                            >The mailmare lets out a sigh. She walks up to the little unicorn and nuzzles him gently. He tones the sound down a bit.

                                            >Derpy holds out the muffin for him, smiling. This time her movements are sharp and precise. Her wingtips are holding the muffin like a vise.

                                            >The colt looks at her, sniffing. Then smiles timidly and takes the muffin with his telekinesis.

                                            >Derpy pats his head with her wing and trots away.

                                            >Third time this day without a muffin.

                                            ***

                                            >You open the Sugarcube Corner's door.

                                            >To be immediately greeted with a radiant cheerful smile, adorned with a cloud of puffy pink mane.

                                            >"Hi, Nonnie!"

                                            "Hello, Pinkie. Where's Mrs. Cake?"

                                            >"Oh, she went somewhere with Mr. Cake. I'm ponning the register for now."

                                            "Right."

                                            >She leans on the counter, ears forward.

                                            >"Sooooooo, wanna something sweet? Or something juicy?" She flutters her eyelashes."Or something sweet and juicy?"

                                            >Well, it's the springtime after all.

                                            "Pinkie, I want to buy some ingredients."

                                            >She cocks her head to the side.

                                            >"Ingredients? For what?"

                                            "I want to make muffins."

                                            >"I can just get you some. There is a fresh batch just out of the oven!"

                                            "No, I- I want- I need to make some muffins. It's... Personal."

                                            >She looks at you intently. Her ears do a full circle.

                                            >"Alright, Anon. Have you ever baked anything?"

                                            >She asks in an uncharacteristically serious tone.

                                            "No."

                                            >She somehow rummages through her mane with her tail and produces a book.

                                            >"Read this first. It's a very good baking book, with through explanations."

                                            >But... But! You want to make the muffins and you want to make them now!

                                            >You open your mouth.

                                            >And close it.

                                            >She's right. You want to make muffins and not some kind of Sweetie Belle's culinary chef-d'oeuvre.

                                            >She extends her tail to you.

                                            >You take the book and riffle the pages briefly.

                                            >"Is it OK?"

                                            >You look at the hieroglyphs. Then at her.

                                            "Twilight taught me how to read ponish universal. I think I'll manage."

                                            >"Okie dokie! Read it and then return to me!"

                                            "Will do."

                                            >You take the book under your arm and grab the doorknob.

                                            "Bye!"

                                            >"See you, Nonny!"


                                            ***

                                            >On your way home you go past a huge tree with the windows and the balcony.

                                            >The Golden Oaks Library, Ponyville's main depository of knowledge and entertainment.

                                            >When you walk alongside one of the windows you hear voices.

                                            >"Spike!"

                                            >"What is it?"

                                            >"Where's the Big Book of Baking?"

                                            >"Which one?"

                                            >"The 3rd edition, published in 2108.

                                            >"Hmm... 2108 AC... Hey, what the hay?! I could swear it was right here on the shelf just a few hours ago!"

                                            >You decide to walk faster.


                                            ***

                                            >You approach Sugarcube Corner, whistling a tune.

                                            >You have a basket of mixed berries in one hand and a repurposed saddlebag loaded with the baking foliant over your shoulder.

                                            >You open the door.

                                            >"Hello and welcome to Sugarcube Corner!"

                                            >This time it's not Pinkie but the owner herself, Mrs. Cake.

                                            >A stocky and powerful azure earth pony mare with a light crimson mane  somehow styled in a bun.

                                            >She smiles at you with a warm gentle smile.

                                            >Looking at her from the front you can clearly see her massive backside standing out from beyond the lines of her chest.

                                            >Quite a few times you have overheard stallions calling Mr. Cake 'lucky bastard'.

                                            >"What would you like, Anon?"

                                            "Um, hello Mrs. Cake! Is Pinkie around?"

                                            >"Oh she is, she is!" exclaims Pinkie Pie from behind you, although a moment ago she wasn't there.

                                            >"Well, yes, very much." Agrees Mrs. Cake.

                                            >"Have you read it, Nonny?" Pinkie looks you in a eye with a deadpan expression and suddenly you feel chill crawling down your spine.

                                            "Yes, Pinkie. I've read it. I understood almost everything."

                                            >"Alrightie then!" her face becomes cheerful and mellow once again.


                                            >Sometimes, in fact quite often, this pink mare scares you.

                                            >You take the book out and hand it to her. Pinkie hides it in her mane.

                                            >"Well, go ahead and buy what you need!" she nudges you towards the counter and looks at you expectingly.

                                            "Right. "

                                            "Mrs. Cake, please, I need 2 Kg of white flour, a pack of baking powder, a pack of soda, some ground cinnamon, a pack of brown sugar and a bottle of vanilla extract."

                                            >"Right away!" Mrs. Cake nods and goes to the shelves to collect what you need.

                                            >She takes an item after item with her teeth and puts them onto the counter.

                                            >Then presses some buttons on a cash register with her nose. Register goes 'ding'.

                                            >"All in all it'll be 10 bits, Anon."

                                            >You take out two large, golden disks engraved with the Sun out of your purse bag and put them near the goods.

                                            >"Thank you for your patronage!"

                                            >You smile at Mrs. Cake and begin to stuff everything into your bag.

                                            >It comes out rather weighty, but life in Equestria made you much stronger than you was at home so it's OK.

                                            >"Packed up everything? Now, let's go to your place!" says Pinkie from over your shoulder.

                                            "You going to help me?"

                                            >You wanted to do it yourself. But you also want the result to be edible.

                                            >"Of course I do, silly. I wouldn't want to miss your first time!" her smile becomes a Cheshire Cat-tier one.

                                            >Damn Pinkie Pie and her innuendos!

                                            >But again, she's a temperamental mare. Spring is probably doing a number on her.


                                            ***

                                            >"Hey Anon, do you have milk and butter?"

                                            "It's in the coldbox, Pinkie."

                                            >"Sour cream?"

                                            "Same."

                                            >You light the oven, while Pinkie zaps around your kitchen.

                                            >By the time you finish with the firewood and coal she has already unpacked the goods. And prepared the kitchenware. And a chief's hat.

                                            >She promptly puts it on.

                                            >"Okie dokie! Now, wash your front limbs-"

                                            "Hands."

                                            >"-And let's start!"

                                            >You wash your hands over the sink and join Pinkie over the table.

                                            >"First, we should prepare the dry ingredients!"

                                            >You pick a pack of flour.  Sturdy paper pack calls for some effort to open.

                                            >Then you carefully unload it into the bowl, trying not to cause the dust armageddon.

                                            >Pinkie nuzzles the baking powder, standing on the table along with other things. You nod and add it. Then there goes the soda,  cinnamon and salt.

                                            >You mix the mound a bit with your hand.

                                            >"Put it aside for a while. Oh, by the way, do you have any cupcake liners?"

                                            >Well, shit.

                                            "No, I don't think so. Can you wait, I'll go and-"

                                            >Pinkie bounces away into the living room and returns with a large multicolored things that ponies call cupcake liners.

                                            "Where did you-"

                                            >"I have them stashed around the town in case of baking emergencies, Nonny! Don't you worry."

                                            >You shrug and unwrap the butter you left on the table earlier to thaw it a bit. It goes into another bowl.

                                            >You take a paddle. It, of course, is fucking big and has a wide and thick handle, suited for mouth hold.

                                            >"Should've asked Twilight to get you some griffin utensils from Canterlot. There is a shop in the Diplomatic District." Pinkie comments. "Anyway, now beat it a bit."

                                            >You oblige and begin to vigorously work the paddle in the bowl.

                                            >Well, fuck! It turns out to be tiresome.

                                            "Can't you conjure it like you did with the book and liners?"

                                            >"Silly Nonny, I'm a pony. Not a griffin." she answers matter-of-factly as if it gonna explain anything.

                                            >Oh, well.

                                            >You stop and shake off sweat.


                                            >Pinkie approaches you with a pack of brown sugar.

                                            >"Let me do it for a while."

                                            >She takes the paddle in her mouth and begins to impersonate a stand mixer.

                                            >"Add the sugar, apprentice of mine!"

                                            >Somehow she manages to speak clearly with the paddle in her mouth.

                                            >You begin to pour sugar into a bowl.

                                            >"Not everything at once! Divide it into batches!"

                                            >You do as said. Pinkie works the paddle, making the mixture nice and creamy.

                                            >"OK, good. Bring me the other stuff."

                                            >You bring a jug of sour cream, a jug of milk and a half dozen eggs.

                                            >Eggs take some time to break. Good thing you dont need to separate white from yellow, like for some recipes in the Book.

                                            >Then you pour a tablespoon of a vanilla extract.

                                            >Pinkie beats it into.

                                            >Pleasant aroma of vanilla immediately spreads throughout the kitchen.

                                            >"Anon, now add the dry ones!"

                                            >You empty the other bowl into the mixture.

                                            >A mushroom cloud of flour dust raises high into the sky...

                                            >Congrats! You fucking did it!

                                            >Pinkie huffs, but nevertheless continues her movements. She even begins to emit a high grumbling noise. Like an actual mixer.

                                            >You stare at her.

                                            >"Something familiar?" she smiles without letting the paddle go, "I thought it would be comforting for you."

                                            "Pinkie, how the f-"

                                            >"It super-duper secret so don't you dare to tell anypony! My mom may seem like a prude nowadays, but actually, before she got married to my dad she had a wild encounter with Discord..."

                                            "What? A statue in the Royal Garden?"

                                            >Pinkie chuckles.

                                            >"Indeed, a statue. It was rock hard, as my sister Maud would say." her expression becomes smug.

                                            "Very funny."


                                            >You say, but actually chuckle as well.

                                            >Pinkie's just being Pinkie. Well, you suppose in the magical land one should expect even the silliest of magic.

                                            >"OK, the batter's good." says Pinkie spitting the paddle out on the table. "What kind of muffins do you want to make?"

                                            "You mean filling?"

                                            >"Yeah."

                                            >You go to the corner and bring the basket with berries.

                                            >"Hmm, raspberries, black- and blueberries. Splendid! I heard pegasi love berries for some reason."

                                            >You look at her suspiciously.

                                            >"Now, mix it in. Carefully." She doesn't even blink.

                                            >You add berries, fistful by fistful. Then take the paddle, trying to ignore Pinkie's saliva, and gently mix berries into the batter.

                                            >After this, without a prompt, you take the cupcake liners and begin to fill them. Trying not to make them too full.

                                            >Pinkie nods.

                                            >You arrange the liners on the baking pan and stuff it into the oven.

                                            >While you were preparing the batter oven got heated good enough.

                                            "I should bake it about  seven minutes closer to the flame and then twenty minutes further away?"

                                            >"Yep!"

                                            >You take a thick piece of cloth and stand ready near the oven, looking at your pocket watch.

                                            >"Don't worry, Anon! You did alright for the first-timer."

                                            "Gee, I hope. Thanks for your help, Pinkie!"

                                            >"That's what friends are for, silly."

                                            ***


                                            >You walk towards the Ponyville post office.

                                            >Carrying a large paper bag with a three pony-sized muffins.

                                            >You still can't decide if it was a right thing. However, muffins are here and you should do what's needed to be done.

                                            >Your whole previous life taught you that random acts of kindness are pointless and borderline harmful.

                                            >But the magical land of Equestria took a toll on you.

                                            >Derpy Hooves is a good soul. You hate to see her misadventures in a land much more nice and happy than was your own shithole.

                                            >Something makes you want to right the wrongs, to bring a well deserved treat to her. And to make sure she can enjoy it.

                                            >You take out the pocket watch. It's 5:30 PM. You know that postponies should report to the office after the workday.

                                            >Hopefully Derpy adheres at least to some regulations.

                                            >The office is almost deserted besides a mare at the counter and a couple of stallions sorting the correspondence.

                                            >"Hello mister! If you want to send a letter or a package please fill the form! Although it's already rather late so I'm afraid we would have to postpone it for a day."

                                            "Oh, never mind. Is Derpy Hooves around?"

                                            >"Derpy? She should've been here already. You can wait for her if you want."

                                            >You nod and lean on the wall.

                                            >"Have she done something wrong, though?" asks postpony, "Lost your letters? Broke a package? The Equestrian Royal Post Service will compensate your expenses in an amount equal to the estimated value of-"

                                            "Oh, no! Nothing of sorts! On the contrary, I think she is a good hardworking mare!"

                                            >Postpony raises her eyebrow.

                                            >"I'm glad to hear. You can leave a note in the Book of Feedback right here. The Equestrian Royal Post Service would appreciate your input on the quality of our work."

                                            "Well, um... Yeah, sure, I'll write something after I talk to her."

                                            >You can read but writing in horse hieroglyphs is a completely different business. And you are ashamed to admit it.


                                            >There is a loud 'thud' outside.

                                            >Door opens and Derpy walks in, wincing.

                                            >She undoes her saddlebags, throws it in the corner and goes to the counter. The mare gives her some paper in which Derpy makes notes with a pen.

                                            >"By the way, Derpy, there is somebody waiting for you." she says storing the paper in the folder.

                                            >The gray pegasus turns around, scanning surroundings.

                                            >You step away from the wall.

                                            >"Oh, hi Anon! Do you want to send a letter? There weren't any correspondence for you today."

                                            >For some reason you suddenly feel like you are at high school once again.

                                            "Um... Miss Derpy, I wanted to talk to you about something..."

                                            >"Oh. Sure! Let's go outside, the work's over anyway."

                                            >You both walk out the post office.

                                            >"So, what did you want to talk about, Anon?" she says in a cheerful tone, but with tired undertones.

                                            >You extend a bag of muffins to her. It considerably weights your hand down.

                                            "I thought... You must be tired after a work. So I brought you some muffins."

                                            >Her adorable face becomes puzzled. She sniffs air, her nostrils flare. And then she brightens up with a tentative joy.

                                            >"It smells delicious! Is it really for me?"

                                            >You nod.

                                            >"Thank you, Anon! Can I try it right here?

                                            "Of course."

                                            >Uh, let's find a place to sit."

                                            >You look around but she beats you to it.

                                            >"Oh! There is a nice tree right here!"

                                            >She flares her wings and flutters onto the branch.

                                            >You look up. Something tells you that's a bad idea, but other something urges you to show everyone (and foremost, her) that you ARE a Great Ape.

                                            >You take the bag with your teeth and begin to climb. You didn't do this since the childhood, but the genetic memory isn't a thing that can be fooled, apparently.

                                            >After a few minutes you are sitting in a tree with Derpy.

                                            >She stomps her front legs, a pony equivalent of applause.

                                            >"I'm sorry Anon, I shouldn't have done this. You aren't a pegasus, after all. But your climbing, that was pretty awesome!"

                                            >You blush. And hand her the muffins.


                                            >Derpy takes one of them with her wings and sniffs once again.

                                            >Then she gives it a lick and takes a hearty bite.

                                            >Her eyes lighten with delight.

                                            >"It's soooo good, Anon! Where did you get it? It's not from Sugarcube Corner. And doesn't tastes like an Apple's ones either... They must be somepony's else homemade!"

                                            >You smile modestly.

                                            >"Is it- Is it yours?"

                                            >You nod.

                                            >"Anon, I... I really don't know... You went all the way and made it for me? Thank you!" Her face is full of wonder.

                                            >Derpy shifts her position and hugs you with her wings. You barely manage to catch her muffin.

                                            >She gasps, but relaxes after seeing that her treat is safe.

                                            "The other day I saw you trying to get a muffin..."

                                            >"Oh, that's embarrassing." She let's out a nervous nicker.

                                            "I'm sorry. I just wanted to do something good for you..."

                                            >Derpy nuzzles your cheek. Then let's you go out of her feathery embrace.

                                            >"No, I'm glad. Just surprised. There was a while since somepony made something for me, except Pinkie."

                                            >You inhale.

                                            "I think- I think you do deserve a better treatment. That time when you hit your head, and those bastards just were trotting around..."

                                            >She smiles.

                                            >"Anon, we, pegasi, are a durable bunch, really. But thank you. You are very kind."

                                            >"It's not that ponies hate me or something. It's just... I'm a relatively fast flier, but due to my eyes I often misjudge distances. I crash into things. I'm always nervous about it, and when I'm nervous I tend to screw everything up even more. It's no wonder ponies are wary."


                                            "I- I would be glad if you crashed into me."

                                            >Yep, just like in the high school. Saying retarded shit to a female you fancy.

                                            >Derpy chuckles.

                                            >"I'd rather not. I better hug you."

                                            >Which she promptly does. Then sees her bitten muffin in your hands and swallow it in one go.

                                            >Her wings are warm and cozy. You consider it for a moment and then slightly hug her barrel.

                                            >She doesn't mind.

                                            "Miss Derpy... Um... Can we sometime go somewhere together? Like for a walk, or something..."

                                            >Words go out on their own. The ghost of your prom laughs it's ass off at you.

                                            >But you really want this for some reason. You were kinda by yourself since you arrived here.

                                            >Never one to approach someone or become too familiar with. (Not that it ever stopped Pinkie though.)

                                            >Derpy looks you in the eye. Although one of her eyes looks at the branch to the left of you.

                                            >"I would be glad to. How about the weekend? Would you like the morning or the evening? I personally like mornings the most!"

                                            "It would be great. Is 10 AM OK?"

                                            >"Yep. Totally. I'll crash... I mean I'll land at your place!"

                                            "Deal!"

                                            >Your smile is as wide as Pinkie's.

                                            >You take out another muffin from the pack and you both share it, while still hugging on a branch.

                                            ***

                                            >Meanwhile in the treebrary.

                                            >"Oh, my Celestia! Spike!"

                                            >"Yes, Twi?"

                                            >"You've found the Big Book of Baking!"

                                            >"Erm..."

                                            >"Why didn't you tell me? Now, take a letter. We need to cancel the replacement order I made the other day!”

                                            >"Well...  Yeah, sure!"