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The Long and Short of It (RGRE) Part 7
By SQA-nonCreated: 2023-01-23 00:33:08
Updated: 2024-04-29 20:20:38
Expiry: Never
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AKA A Guardsmare Of Half Height And Double Spirit Finds Love Twice As Tall And Thrice As Strong: A Reverse Gender Roles Equestria Story of Epic Proportions And Minuscule Stature
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Special thanks to Comfy, Uh-hmmm, Ephemeral, ScribblesAnon, APA, HotKinkajou, LaP, Rot, Editfag, QoC, Bobbles, and Shu for prereading/editing help.
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And and super special thanks to NigNogs for the top tier fan art, and de facto cover art, which can be viewed here: ponybooru.org/images/33009?q=artist%3Anignogs
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“I’m not apologizing.”
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>You are Anonymous the unicorn and you cannot believe what Cut is asking you to do right now.
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>Apparently she feels very strongly about something you said to one of the mares you kicked out last night.
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>It’s all a little fuzzy around the edges, apparently you /actually/ teleported?
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>You’d been studying up on how to do it, sure, but you’d never been able to work up the nerve to try it out.
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>Guess all you needed was a little liquor to grease the wheels.
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>That’s neither here nor there though.
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>What /is/ here is Cut, and she’s very upset you screamed at one of your coworkers about how ugly her coat was.
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>”Come on. That was /really/ mean!”
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>You don’t feel the same.
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>Really, why’s she making such a big deal about this?
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>Even as the two of you whisper at each other just outside of the mare’s cubicle, you can’t bring yourself to feel bad for her.
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“So? I’ve personally heard her talk shit about how you look, Cut! If anything she deserves it!”
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>Not to mention all the catcalling she’s done to you.
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>She was one of the worst when you started, that’s probably why your tipsy brain singled her out to begin with!
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>It used to be every fucking day.
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>Besides, she’s a mare! Shouldn’t she be able to handle it?
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>If some dude back home shouted that you had an ugly skin color you’d probably just think they were insane.
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>Or racist, you suppose.
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>As if she can read your thoughts, Cut gently stomps one of her forehooves.
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>”That’s wrong, Anon, you shouldn’t think like that.”
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>Look at her, sticking to her guns!
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>She’s come a long way.
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>”P-Ponies don’t hold things against each other like that, we apologize and forgive each other!”
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>You just barely catch her start to nervously turn her other forehoof.
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>“Besides, hearing a stallion say things like that... it really hurts.”
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>And now you see why she feels that way.
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>She’s probably been there.
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>...who are you kidding she's /definitely/ been there.
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>The crushing weight of that knowledge and Cut’s puppy dog eyes weighs heavily on your resolve.
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>But you’ve got your own guns to stick to.
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>This mare’s certainly never apologized to Cut, why does she deserve better from you?
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>Fuck being the bigger person that shit’s bull.
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>You’ve been dealing with these mares’ crap for MONTHS!
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>You’ve earned a little pettiness, as a treat.
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“I get where you’re coming from, Cut, I really do. But no.”
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>She sighs, hanging her head.
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>Her disappointment in you is palpable.
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>It's /almost/ enough to break you.
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>”Alright... I didn’t want to do this...”
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>Suddenly she meets your gaze, a newfound fire in her eyes.
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>”Do it or my bra doesn’t come off for a week.”
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>Fuck!
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>You are J Jargon Justification, and you are doing what you find yourself doing most days.
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>Sitting at your desk and doing absolutely no work.
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>However, for once you’re focused on something most ponies might consider important.
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>Your employee Anonymous, apologizing to one of your editorial columnists, Printed Word.
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>Something that makes you sigh in relief.
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>For an office with only one stallion, word still gets around fast.
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>That’s right, you know about the party.
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>You know how it ended too.
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>Which was... troubling news, to say the least.
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>Most of the office mares were willing to write it off as a classic case of a stallion blowing things out of proportion, but you’re not so sure.
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>You didn't get to where you are today by being /clueless/ about stallions' feelings after all.
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>Just willfully ignorant of them.
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>And you’d be a fool to willfully ignore this colt’s feelings!
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>Not only is your niece’s future riding on this lad, but so’s your dang paper!
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>Looking down at the menagerie of papers on your desk, your eyes are immediately drawn to the sales figures.
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>You’ll admit you’ve never really been a humble mare, but even your pride can’t hide the truth.
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>Tender Care was right, stallions /were/ an untapped market.
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>Your paper’s growth has been nothing less than explosive.
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>So much so that even the other newspapers are looking into recruiting stallion reporters now.
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>Never in your life would you have thought you’d refer to a colt as a “moneymaker” in this sense!
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>Which makes this outburst all the more troubling.
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>You bet you know where it comes from at least, and it's not because your niece isn’t draining his balls enough.
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>The answer lies on the calendar stuck midway up the wall next to your right.
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>Hearthswarming.
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>Hearthswarming may be a time for community, but it's more so a time for family.
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>For herds just starting out, that can be fairly nerve-wracking.
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>Especially for the stallion; their family is their life, after all.
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>That first time, everypony’s looking back on all those wonderful memories from growing up, wondering if the family they’re building now will be as happy and carefree as theirs was then...
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>You were fine of course, there was never any doubt you’d knock it outta the park.
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>But your husband! Ooooh mare, he nearly wore a hole in the floor with all the pacing he did.
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>That’s the real reason stallions shouldn’t be in the workforce, their temperament.
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>It's too fragile.
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>Your poor Press couldn’t get ahold of himself until the lot of you had made it back to Ponyville to celebrate with his parents.
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>Which you imagine is the story of almost every herd’s first Hearthswarming.
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>But Anon won’t get that.
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>You never found out why, admittedly having given up at the first missive you got that was covered in black bars, but you know whatever brought him here was one way.
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>He’ll probably never see his family again.
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>So to be perfectly honest, you’d be more worried if he /hadn’t/ started acting up as it got closer to the holidays.
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>Sure, he told Care that he was, “as social as any other average Amareican” and she was too polite to call him out on it.
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>But you’ve seen right through those whimsical horseapples since day one!
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>There are more ways for stallions to act up than there are stars in the sky.
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>And it’s obvious that for him, the closer to the end of his rope he gets, the more antisocial he gets.
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>Abnormally so for a stallion.
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>Shame that such a big sack comes with such a big red flag.
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>But your niece is the exact same way, which is why you stuck them together in the back.
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>You figured they’d make a great couple, and you were right (of course)!
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>You’d hate for those tendencies to undo all the progress he’s made over the past couple of months though.
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>He’s come so far from being the hermit who only shows up to deliver his stories and nothing else.
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>And it's with no small amount of pride you see that Cut’s long-dormant marely instincts have awoken.
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>She’s over there now with him at Printed’s cubicle, leaning over his shoulder to try and coax him out of acting up.
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>If only Suck wasn’t off in Manehattan, she’d cry tears of joy seeing this.
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>But your poor niece is clearly still naive in the ways of stallions, because if she wasn’t she’d know it's a losing battle.
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>The deck’s just too stacked against her.
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>So you’ll help out the best way you can!
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>Anonymous is too stubborn to admit that he needs some time off from work, so you’ll just make him take it.
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>You know he’s on the trail of something right now, so you’ll let him see that through and then put him on leave.
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>Provided his behavior doesn’t get too much worse before then.
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>Whichever comes first, really.
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>”See, didn’t that make you feel better?”
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>You are Anonymous the Unicorn, and as much as you want to stay obstinate, apologizing /did/ make you feel a little bit better.
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>Seeing the look on that poor mare’s face...
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>She was /crushed/.
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>You really fucked with her self esteem, much more than you had realized.
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>Which makes it occur to you that your earlier analogy wasn’t quite right.
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>If a /girl/ screamed at you back home that your skin color was ugly, you’d probably take some of it to heart too.
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>Which you suppose made apologizing to her the right thing to do after all.
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>Her coat isn’t even that ugly.
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>The neon orange goes with her mane! ...mostly.
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>You’re still feeling a little petty though, leaving you content to sit at your desk and grumble.
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“Yeah, yeah. I guess.”
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>Cut didn’t even need to see your face to see right through it instantly.
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>It was /that/ pathetic.
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>But instead of gloating, she just giggles to herself before taking her seat next to you and diving back into her work.
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>Of course, with a brand new smug smile you spy in the corner of your eye.
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>Yeah, yeah, yuck it up.
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>She earned it this time.
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>You noticed the two of them even got to chatting for a little bit after you awkwardly left.
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>Maybe Printed learned a lesson from all this too?
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>God, you hope so.
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>One less nuisance around the office would be a serious win in your book.
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>A win to counteract the absolute loss you had this morning.
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>You couldn’t get anything meaningful out of Pike about what happened last night.
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>She claims it was all a blur, but the way she dodged your questions made it patently obvious she was actually just dodging your questions.
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>Unfortunately, seeing as how it was the early morning and the three of you still had to go to work, there was basically nothing you could do about it.
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>It was certainly not the ideal time for a heart to heart.
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>Especially considering how hungover the poor mare was.
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>Cut wasn’t any better at the time, but she really bounced back fast.
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>Perks of being an Earth Pony you suppose.
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>Which unfortunately left you putting the issue on the backburner until the three of you were home today.
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>Thank God today’s work will actually have you out and about.
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>If you were stuck here at your desk all you’d do is worry about it.
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>And that small amount of worrying you just did simply thinking about /thinking about/ the issue?
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>It's enough to leave you feeling like you could crush a stress ball into a singularity.
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>You shudder to think what a whole day of worrying might do to you.
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>The mares would probably call whatever happens “whimsey” but you doubt it’d feel particularly whimsical.
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>Man, how did those anime protagonists do it? Just having /two/ fillyfriends is stressing you out.
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>Better find something else to focus on, FAST.
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>With just a pinch of desperation you start digging through the mess of drafts and research materials you call a “desk”.
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>You’ve been grabbing up everything you can about the Wonderbolts as of late, /something/ has to reference the supposed charity show that mare was talking about last night.
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>Let’s see, summer camp recruitment flier? No.
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>Article about bootleg flight suit sales being on the rise? No.
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>Expose about some dude named Bench Warmer? No.
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>”Uh, Anon? Are you alright?”
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>You look up from your desk to catch Cut gazing at you with a great deal of concern.
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>But why? You’ve just been—
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>Wait a second.
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>Now that your focus has become interrupted, you realize you’ve become covered in something.
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>Little pieces of paper to be exact.
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>Because your magic has been shredding every piece of paper you’ve picked up instead of putting them aside.
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>Fuck, you actually wanted to read that thing about Bench Warmer at some point.
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>Maybe you should get an actual stress ball.
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“*Ahem* I-I’m fine.”
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>You count your blessings that the only other person back here is Cut, you’d never live it down if anyone else saw that.
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>Say, while you have her attention...
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“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a Wonderbolts show coming to town, would you?”
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>She blinks owlishly at you for a bit.
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>You suppose that /would/ feel like a total non sequitur coming right after she saw you shred several documents.
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>“Well uh, I think Aunt Jargon mentioned something about how they threw together a show for Fountain’s Little Brother’s Orphanage. I think it’s...”
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>She trails off, before glancing toward a calendar stuck to the wall of her cubicle.
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>”Oh, it's today! Starts in a couple of hours.”
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>A couple hours? Perfect!
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>That gives you more than enough time to prepare.
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>Might even be worth trying to reassemble that article about Bench Warmer.
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>”Why? Did you want to go?”
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>You’re about to answer when suddenly her face lights up.
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>”Oh! You haven’t seen the Wonderbolts yet!”
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>She adorably claps her forehooves together in excitement.
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>”We have to see if Auntie Jargon will give us the afternoon off. Although... we really shouldn’t go without Pike...”
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>You smile to yourself and slowly start gathering your things.
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>The second the Wonderbolts came up, a familiar energy came into Cut’s voice.
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>You can feel one of her excited tangents coming on, so best to just sit back and listen.
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>”Besides, I heard this is mostly going to be a group performance show. The stuff you really ought to see are the solo obstacle runs!”
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>Honestly you’re a little surprised to see that she’s into the Wonderbolts.
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>You’d figured an athletic show would be outside of her areas of interest, for obvious reasons.
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>Suppose you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and all that.
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>Where’d you put your hat?
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>”I was in the crowd the day Firefly set the current record for the Triple Hoop Deluxe course. I couldn’t BELIEVE how lucky I was! Between you and me, I’m pretty sure she did it by adjusting her wing twelve degrees upward juuuuust after the second hoop.”
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>Hold up.
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>You were midway through shoving papers into your saddlebag, but you stop to /really/ listen in.
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>”Some ponies say she did it by flying an inch closer to the left side of that hoop, but that’s preposterous!”
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>The realization hits you like a bag of comically colored bricks.
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>Speedrunning, she’s talking about /speedrunning/.
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>Cut goes to watch death-defying flight shows for the /speedrunning/!
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>”She was going at least fifty miles an hour! How on Hearth would she have made the next turn if she flew that close to the hoop?”
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>Don’t laugh, Anonymous. Do NOT laugh.
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>You do not want to have to explain the world of speedrunning to this poor mare.
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>Channeling every bit of what you could call your “inner zen” you desperately contain all the mirth inside you within a big goofy smile on your face.
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>A smile Cut notices, trailing off with the /cutest/ blush.
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>”A-And I uh, well, I think that makes it obvious why, um. Phew, is it hot in here?”
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>Awwww.
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>You know, you probably look like a love sick puppy right now with your big dopey grin.
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>That’s not even untrue really, Cut loving speedrunning is /adorably/ on brand for her.
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>So seizing the moment, you lean in and give her a quick little peck on the cheek.
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>It's something you’ve done to her a hundred times by now, but she still lights up like a Christmas tree.
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>She’s redder than a tomato and feeling so bashful she can barely make eye contact with you!
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>As a guy back on Earth, you’d never have thought you’d be able to fluster someone this much with just a kiss.
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>It’s a bit of an odd feeling, but a nice one nonetheless.
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>Hmm, you should probably say something, cap the moment off.
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>You’ve never been good at lovey-dovey stuff.
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>Uhhhhhh, shit! Just say something!
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“You’re my little sperg, Cut.”
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>...
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>Of all the things to say...
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>Why the FUCK did you say that!?
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>”I’m your little what...?”
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>Now you’re the one blushing madly.
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>How embarrassing!
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“*Cough Cough* Don’t worry about it.”
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>You, Anonymous, ended up going to the show alone.
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>As fun as it would have been to go with Cut, you really wanted to keep this trip focused on business, not pleasure.
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>Plus Cut was right, going without Pike felt wrong.
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>So popping your Wonderbolts’ cherry turned out to unfortunately be a solo event.
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>You certainly see why they’re so popular now, the show was thrilling.
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>To your human mind, it struck you as an interesting blend of a trapeze act and a flight show.
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>You were a little worried that’d make it a light program since the majority of the crowd were foals, but they didn’t skimp out on the action.
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>They were just as death-defying as they presumably always are.
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>Cut was right about its program too, it was primarily group formations with almost no speedrunning to be found.
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>You’re fine with that, the group stunts seem much more up your alley anyway.
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>You’ll have to carve out a time for the three of you to go to a real show sometime, it would probably be a lot of fun.
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>But that’s something for future Anon to take care of, present Anon has a much more pressing matter.
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>Getting backstage.
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>Canterlot stadium isn’t really that large (Unicorns must /really/ not care for sports) and that works to quite your disadvantage.
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>A smaller stadium means less places for you to slip past security, and so far just about every possible avenue to get behind the scenes here seems to be closed off.
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>You can SEE the room that all the Wonderbolts went into from where you’re standing.
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>It’s just down the hall, all that’s standing between you and the ‘Bolts is two ornery security mares.
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>Two mares who are eyeing you like you’re just another groupie they’ll need to beat away with a stick.
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>Well, you and every other cheering fan that’s managed to make it this far.
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>Hmm, what to do.
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>You tried flashing your press pass at an earlier choke point but the security there just stonewalled you, and you doubt it’d go any different with these two.
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>Maybe you could try to disguise yourself as a worker?
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>No, where would you even get an outfit?
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>You wrack your mind trying to come up with some clever way in, but you’re coming up with bupkis.
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>Well... except for one thing.
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>Teleporting.
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>You know you can do it, you’ve done it.
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>But without a couple beers in you, the idea of molecularly displacing yourself is a little daunting to say the least.
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>Sure the spell boasted a dozen or so safeguards like “quantum tunneling in the event of geometric interface” but jargon like that doesn't exactly fill you with confidence.
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>Then again, you /have/ already done it once.
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>Odds are, if the spell could put you halfway through things you would have ended up with a plate in your leg last night.
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>Also you really don’t fuckin feel like climbing in a window or something equally desperate.
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>So attempting to stay as nonchalant as possible, you trot away from the security guards.
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>You’d attempt to disappear into the crowd of fans around you, but being no less than a head taller than everyone in the group kind of shoves that option off the table.
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>You’ll just have to settle for going around the nearest corner.
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>Which /technically/ violates one of the spell’s precautionary measures, that being: keep line of sight with your destination.
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>But you saw inside the room you're aiming for, you can easily see the area’s layout in your head.
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>You can even rotate it! Something you’re not entirely sure any of the ponies can do, but you’ve been too afraid of looking like an idiot to ask.
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>It’ll be fine, you’re sure.
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>You’re only displacing yourself in space-time by what, twenty meters?
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>...Through a wall into a room you only kind of saw.
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>Maybe you should just warp into the hallway itself?
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>No, those two guards would grab you in an instant.
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>It’s either into the room or nowhere, and you’ve made it around the corner so better do it now before you manage to talk yourself out of it.
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>Alright.
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>You take a deep breath in order to hype yourself up.
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>Here goes...!
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>Visualizing the formula in your mind you send the necessary energy into your horn to make it real.
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>You can feel the rules of reality bending to shape to your will.
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>All of your senses compress to a point, and then...!
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>THIS WAS A BAD IDEA!
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>THIS WAS A REALLY BAD IDEA!
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>”Bucking DONKEY! GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN!”
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>”Chef you can’t say that!”
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>Instinctively, you duck your head right as a frying pan sails over it.
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>”What in Celestia’s name is wrong with you chef!? You almost hit that stallion!”
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>”GOOD!”
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>Your hooves are thundering on the shitty tile as you charge full speed ahead.
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>All the while your eyes frantically dart around the room, desperately looking for an exit or at least direction that puts as much space as humanly possible between you and the crazy mare behind you.
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>Turns out the reason the spell recommends line of sight is because things like “relative position” and “distance” don’t mean a whole lot when you’re tearing a hole in the fabric of space.
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>”WE’RE GONNA NEED TO DEEP CLEAN OUR GRILL’S ATOMS! YOU KNOW HOW LONG THAT TAKES!?”
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>Thanks to that, instead of ending up just behind the Wonderbolts, you ended up in the stadium’s kitchen.
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>INSIDE one of their grills.
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>Praise be that the spell’s “quantum tunneling” attribute works as advertised and you were able to quite literally slip out of the grill unscathed.
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>It looked like you opened up the console and turned on no clip.
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>It /felt/ absolutely FOUL.
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>It wasn’t enough for your skin to crawl, oh no, your internal organs and bones had to crawl along with them.
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>Terrible, you never want to feel like that again for as long as you live.
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>Oh, and immediately being accosted by a crazy mare who was out for your blood certainly didn’t help.
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>Woah hey, something just whizzed by your— Jesus Christ that was a knife! She just threw a KNIFE at you!
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“WHAT THE HELLS WRONG WITH YOU!?”
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>The only response is more expletives hurled your way as you barrel through some hapless line cook.
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>A testament to your size, or at least your momentum, the poor mare’s impact against your body barely even slows you down.
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>You throw a quick “Sorry!” her way, but the deranged smile on her face as she goes down makes you regret it.
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>You also may have heard her say something akin to, “Step on me Daddy,” but your brain immediately blocked it out for the sake of your own sanity.
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>”WHY ARE YOU STILL IN MY KITCHEN!? GET OUT OF HERE!” screams the chef.
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“FUCK YOU I’M FUCKING TRYING!”
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>You’re coming up on your second lap around the kitchen now, and you can see the exit.
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>Thank God.
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>Doing your best early 2000s movie impression, you Tokyo Drift your ass right around that corner and out the door.
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>Not even wasting a moment, you pick a direction and keep running.
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>Only to realize you’re now running straight for the security checkpoint you just tried to bypass.
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>Wow, so you went in the exact opposite direction you wanted to, great.
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>Now you’ll have to— is she STILL chasing you!?
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>The sounds of rapidly approaching hooves and a panicked glimpse behind you confirms just that, she’s STILL chasing you!
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>God damn it you’re not even in the kitchen anymore!
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>Welp, there’s your ticket past security you suppose.
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>Honesty.
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“HELP!” you scream, “SHE’S GOT A FUCKING KNIFE!”
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>Okay, maybe not total honesty.
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>You didn’t see her with another, but considering she’s already tossed one at your head her brandishing another knife is definitely not off the table!
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>All the fans gathered around the checkpoint have started to scatter at the sound of your howling, and the fact you’re barreling at them with the force of a freight train.
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>Well, almost all the fans.
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>As the sea of ponies parts, you see a lone neon-blue stallion standing right in your way.
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>Too absorbed in an argument with some mare, he didn’t pay you even a moment’s heed.
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>You couldn’t grasp any of the specifics of their argument, but one look at him was enough to give you the gist.
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>The danger-hair colored earth pony was wearing a jacket covered from sleeves to collar in pins and slogans like “Down with the matriarchy”, all while shouting some nonsense about “The Wonderbolts’ crimes!”
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>And like those types often are, he was so totally absorbed in his meaningless bickering that he didn't see the problem that was about to hit him head on.
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>Namely, you, shooting towards him at ramming speed.
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>Oh well, sucks to be him.
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>Trying to minimize the hit to your momentum, you attempt a last minute course correction to simply pass by him instead of slamming into him head on.
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>Unfortunately you still managed to clip him.
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>Thankfully he was such a shrimp that your speed wasn’t impacted in the least.
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>He, on the other hand, was blown clean off to the side.
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>Showering both you and the surrounding area with dozens upon dozens of pins and pamphlets.
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>You don’t even bother shooting this one a “sorry,” that was all on him.
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>Luckily for you, this has the unintended side effect of clearing the way for the security ponies.
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>The two of them spring into action, charging past you and making a beeline for the crazed chef hot on your heels.
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>Judging by the sounds that followed soon after, they’d immediately tackled her to the ground.
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>The sounds of a struggle continue from there, the chef’s speech rapidly degenerating into a mix of exclusively nonsense syllables and expletives.
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>You assume that means she’s fighting back, but you’re not stopping to look.
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>This is your chance!
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>Keeping up the pace, you headed straight for the door you saw the ‘Bolts go through earlier and practically throwew yourself through it.
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>Which turns out to be a very bad decision.
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>You did that expecting the door to be closed, or even locked.
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>It wasn’t.
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>So instead, the momentum the door was supposed to absorb kept you flying forward.
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>Face first into the floor.
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>Ow.
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>You eat shit, comically sliding a ways forward across the ground just to add insult to injury.
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>By the time you finally come to a stop, you’ve made it decently far into the room.
-
>You elect to lay there and catch your breath, the gravity of what just happened rushing to meet you like the floor did.
-
>Jesus, that really could have gone south in a dozen different ways.
-
>Next time you /should/ just go for a window or something.
-
>Where are you anyway?
-
>It isn’t a conference room, considering you didn’t feel the sting of rug burn on your face.
-
>Instead, it feels almost like wet tile.
-
>And this ambient noise you’re hearing... is that the sound of a shower running?
-
>”See, Fleet, I told you stallions would still be /throwing themselves/ at us. Didn’t I?”
-
-
-
>You couldn’t manage to motivate yourself to get up.
-
>Instead you just laid there, chuckling to yourself at the internal schadenfreude.
-
>Of course you just charged into the mares’ locker room like a maniac, of fucking course.
-
>Wait... does that even matter?
-
>It's not like ponies care about others seeing them undress.
-
>Are you even actually breaking a taboo here?
-
>”Is he alright? He hit the ground pretty hard there,” asks a new voice.
-
>You can hear hooves on the tile as more of the team approaches you.
-
>”We should probably call a doctor. Stallions have hollow bones, he might have broken something,” another speaks up.
-
>”You idiot!” A third shouts, “He’s a unicorn! /We’re/ the ones with semi-hollow bones.”
-
>Both wanting to end their asides and itching to get this awkward introduction over with, you let out a loud groan before forcing yourself to your hooves.
-
>You doubt anything is seriously injured, but man are you sore right now.
-
>Finally centering yourself, you take in your surroundings and see it's exactly what you expected.
-
>A high-tier YMCA locker room, full of mares doing all the things you’d expect someone to be doing in a locker room.
-
>Undressing, stretching, showering...
-
>Yet nearly all of them had frozen in place, eyes locked on you in awkward silence as you worked up the nerve to break the ice.
-
>You’d never been particularly uncomfortable in front of crowds, but you couldn’t help but find their looks just the slightest bit unnerving.
-
>Capping off that feeling is the /range/ of expressions you’re seeing.
-
>On your right, the reactions you’re getting are what you’d expect to see if a girl just barged into a frat’s locker room.
-
>The further left you go however, they seem to be... afraid?
-
>Some of them are even grimacing as they look at your side.
-
>Oh God, did you like cut yourself open on a loose piece of tile or something?
-
>Hurriedly checking your side, you notice you’re covered in pins.
-
>Most of them are stuck to your saddlebag but a few have managed to cling to your bare side as well.
-
>They must be magic or something because you certainly don’t /feel/ like there are half a dozen pins jammed into your skin.
-
>Wait a second, you recognize these! They’re from that dude you plowed into!
-
>And they’re covered in absolutely /terrible/ slogans.
-
>“Down With The Matriarchy” is okay you suppose, but “Penis Power”? Really?
-
>”It's one of those guys Legal Ease warned us about!” one of the mares abruptly screams. “Everypony, scatter!”
-
>Almost all of the previously frozen ponies explode into movement.
-
>Tearing their way past you, they go for doors, windows, lockers, and anything else that’ll put a barrier between you and them.
-
>Before you can even get a word out, the once packed room is practically a ghost town.
-
>Of the over a dozen mares originally in view, only a scant few remain.
-
>And by the sound of it, these mares must be the bravest of the brave.
-
>...Or the ones the least concerned with legal repercussions.
-
>Opening your mouth, you /intend/ to clear up the misunderstanding, but the mares don’t give you a chance.
-
>”Well well well,” says Spitfire, strutting toward you. “What do we have here?”
-
>She openly starts sizing you up, and you get the feeling she’d be attempting to look down on you if you weren’t so tall.
-
>Stopping in front of you, she strikes a pose you recognize immediately.
-
>Pulling her head back while thrusting her chest forward, it's the same pose Pike makes whenever she wants you to look at her chest fuzz.
-
>Spitfire had already unzipped her suit until it was below her chest, so it /kind of/ works.
-
>But her fur’s all matted from being pressed by the suit, and covered in sweat.
-
>Her actual tuft is much smaller than Pike’s too, and not in a cute way like Cut’s is.
-
>Frankly, you’re not entirely sure what Spitfire is even going for here. Sexy? Intimidating?
-
>Either way it's not working.
-
>”Come to hear some of our “locker room talk” with your own ears?”
-
>You're about to very enthusiastically answer “no”, but something stops you.
-
>You may not be that familiar with the Wonderbolts, but this seems like a pretty serious departure from their public personas.
-
>Especially Spitfire, she /seemed/ like nothing but a consummate professional before.
-
>But you suppose you shouldn't be surprised, no matter the planet jocks will be jocks.
-
>She even used the famous meme, "locker room talk"!
-
>Just like back home, you're sure all kinds of shit gets said behind closed doors that a team would never let slip in public.
-
>Especially to someone like a reporter...
-
>But say, a random stallionist who barged into your locker room?
-
>That’s as far from a reporter as it gets!
-
>If you were a reporter in the fifties, you sure as shit wouldn’t use “hearsay from a feminist” as your source.
-
>Nobody else would either.
-
>The team would know that too.
-
>And that means no PR filter, no reason to hold anything back.
-
>Every off color opinion and spicy detail, laid bare...
-
>The thought makes you salivate.
-
>Seems like that idiot at the entrance accidentally gave you a golden opportunity.
-
>You're going undercover!
-
>Thanking your lucky star that they didn’t already notice it, you quietly use your magic to fold the press pass in your hat upon itself.
-
>A part of you is really looking forward to this, for once you have a legitimate reason to antagonize an annoying source.
-
>You’d just better make sure you don’t get /too/ in character...
-
>Wanting to start strong, you do something you know will get under Spitfire’s skin.
-
>Raising up to your full height, you make a deliberate show of looking down at Spitfire’s tuft.
-
>You can see her grinning at the edge of your vision, at least until your eyebrow comes up.
-
>You stare down at that ratty-ass tuft like it's an unexpected hairball in your shower drain, and /just/ when Spitfire gets the picture, only then do you look up to her face.
-
>She’s sure not grinning anymore!
-
“As a matter of fact, I did. Especially anything pertaining to one stallion...”
-
-
-
>”Wind Rider.”
-
>You are Fleetfoot, third wing of the Wonderbolts, and you’re holding back tears of laughter.
-
>Sweet Celestia, you weren’t expecting /this/ kind of after show entertainment!
-
>Between you and yourself, you’d have to admit you were a little worried at first.
-
>The way he charged in here, you could /almost/ be fooled into thinking he had some serious business.
-
>But it turns out that “serious business” is Wind Rider.
-
>Wind /Bucking/ Rider!
-
>Nopony gives a buck about Wind Rider, no pony!
-
>Only the most deranged of stallionists would even consider that worth their energy, and this dude is waaay too calm to fit into that category.
-
>Way too attractive too.
-
>No, you know why he's /really/ here.
-
>Unlike Spits, you've hung out with your fair share of stallions.
-
>By now you've acquired an acute understanding of how they operate in the sheets AND the streets.
-
>And stallionists are creatures of pride.
-
>They want— no. They /need/ to feel like they're the ones in control.
-
>But at the end of the day they're still stallions, and every stallion gets a craving that brings them back to the shellfish buffet.
-
>He's clearly got it bad too!
-
>Running in here like a stallion possessed... practically throwing himself at your hooves...
-
>And the way he /stared/ down Spits' tuft?
-
>Sure he tried to play it cool, but you all saw. He's not fooling anypony!
-
>Okay Spits looks like she's absolutely seething so he probably fooled her, but that's beside the point.
-
>It was clearly an act to keep up his pride, just like this Wind Rider stuff.
-
>But that's fine with you, you've played this game before.
-
>Spits is trying to stand tall enough to look him in the eyes, so she's obviously playing bad cop.
-
>And you'll play good cop, and before you know it the two of you will have a good old fashion gang bang on your hooves!
-
>Buck hitting up the dress club, here's the way to unwind after a show!
-
-
-
>You really wish you'd gone ahead and learned that mind reading spell after all.
-
>Sure, Pike was right, it probably would have made you "a massive pain in the flank".
-
>But God, you'd kill to know what exactly Spitfire is thinking right now.
-
>The mare is two-thirds your size (and knows it) yet she's putting every angry atom of her being toward standing high enough on her tip-toes so that she can look you in the eye.
-
>And failing, of course.
-
>Aren't most mares shorter than most stallions anyway?
-
>Why would this of all things be a point of pri— woah hey what the fuck!?
-
>/Something/ just brushed against your fucking nuts!
-
>It felt like someone's tail, and whipping your head around you see it /was/ someone's tail!
-
>Fleetfoot.
-
>Apparently while you were busy with Spitfire she thought it appropriate to circle around behind you and swat your nuts as she passed by.
-
>That's disconcerting, to say the least.
-
>What's even worse is she does not look like someone who just got caught tickling someone else's nuts.
-
>If anything she looks confident, like that was the right move.
-
>You've got a bad feeling about this.
-
>Abruptly, she pulls in close beside you.
-
>Not close enough to touch, but close enough to clearly violate your personal space.
-
>"Now what's a handsome guy like you want with somepony like that?" She asks.
-
>It's times like this that you're keenly reminded that you're still far from being used to the opposite sex being the forward ones.
-
>For the briefest of moments, your eyes were probably the size of dinner plates as you hastily stumbled back.
-
>Shit, you're breaking character!
-
>She may be attractive but she just touched your balls without asking!
-
>Remember that righteous anger and channel it!
-
>Physically straightening yourself out, you loudly say:
-
"I want to know why he did it!"
-
>And considering what just happened, you've got a perfect line of inquiry.
-
Angrily pointing between the two of them, you shout, "And I want to know what /you all/ did to him!"
-
>The two of them roll their eyes.
-
>Which, while not unexpected, still wasn’t really the reaction you were gunning for.
-
>”Oh please,” Spitfire hawks the words out like a loogie, “Like we’d need to do anything to get that old churl going.”
-
>You just barely catch the tail end of Fleetfoot shooting Spitfire one /nasty/ look before she turns to you.
-
>"What Spits is trying to say is, you've got us all wrong! We didn't do anything to that poor stallion."
-
>That coming from the bitch who just tickled your ball? As if!
-
>Do these people think you're fucking stupid?
-
>...Of course they do, you're a stallion.
-
>No, no!
-
>You've got to remember: to them you're a stallion/ist/ not just a stallion, there's a difference!
-
>But even with that in mind, there's more than a little genuine bitterness in your voice as you shout back.
-
"Don't bullshit me! Everyone's heard about what you did to Bench Warmer."
-
>It's a lie, of course, you've got no idea what happened to Bench Warmer.
-
>But you certainly feel like you've got enough to make an educated guess!
-
>"WHAT!?"
-
>Spitfire apparently disagrees.
-
>"The only thing we "did" for that ungrateful bastard was a favor!"
-
>By the end of her statement, you could see Spitfire the drill sergeant come out just a little.
-
>And honestly? It was kind of terrifying.
-
>However, it's not so terrifying that you aren't completely enraptured.
-
>Wind Rider might end up a bust, but you'd certainly be willing to settle for the inside scoop on Bench Warmer.
-
>You're not that picky!
-
>Making it even better is the visible horror on Fleetfoot's face.
-
>"Spitfi—"
-
>"I don't care what Legal says, Fleet," Spitfire swiftly cuts her off. "The facts are on /our/ side!"
-
>If you weren't worried about breaking cover you'd be drooling right now.
-
>You're a shark, and they just chummed the water.
-
>This is an ongoing investigation and yet, Spitfire's clearly ready to spill everything.
-
>All she needs is a little /push/!
-
"/What/ facts?" You say in the most condescending tone you possibly can.
-
>Fleetfoot tries to put herself between the two of you, but it's all in vain.
-
>You know you've won as the fiery mare pushes past Fleet in order to angrily shove herself in your face.
-
>"He wants to tell everypony we benched him because he's a stallion? Horseapples! We've /got/ his performance stats on record. If a mare flew like that she wouldn't even make the bench!"
-
>The sweet taste of victory is quickly turning to ash in your mouth.
-
>You know you won't like the answer, but you're in too deep now.
-
"So why keep him on the team at all?"
-
>"Becau—"
-
>This time, Fleetfoot takes no chances and shoves her hoof into Spitfire's mouth.
-
>Keeping the momentum up, she shoves Spitfire out of your way and steps to take her place.
-
>"Because," she continues for Spitfire, "We at the Wonderbolts realize our team is a little mare heavy! So we wanted to give that uh... promising young stallion a real chance to shine! Despite his *ahem* /questionable/ performance record."
-
>You sit there in silence as your mind begrudgingly processes what you just heard.
-
>It takes you all of ten seconds to figure out the real reason why.
-
"So it's because he was hot."
-
>Fleetfoot awkwardly scratches at the back of her neck.
-
>Refusing to look you in the eye, she only manages a weak, "Well...."
-
-
-
>”...I won’t feed you manure and pretend like your stories will get front page billing.”
-
>You are Anonymous the freshly minted Unicorn, and you’ve finally found someone willing to hire you.
-
>Although from where you’re standing, willing feels like it's a bit of a stretch.
-
>”Or, probably second or third page billing for that matter. But! You’ll have an editorial all to yourself! Gossip, fashion, all the things you stallions like to write and read about.”
-
>You've been throwing yourself at every employer you can think of for months, and this is where you've ended up
-
>Sitting in front of J Jargon Justification of the Canterlot Canteror
-
>Not as an apprentice reported to be trained up of course, just the gossip writer.
-
>That’s it.
-
>Your only options now seem to be: continue fruitlessly struggling and hope someone else will give you a chance, or accept your position here as the token stallion.
-
>Considering how most of the businesses in Canterlot have already turned you down, it’s not much of a choice, really.
-
>”And the mares will just love having you around!”
-
>You choke down the grimace that tried to make its way on to your face.
-
>Considering the way they were eyeing you walked in, you’re sure they will.
-
>Swallowing your last bit of pride, you put on a fake smile and raise a hoof.
-
>Remember, it’s a bump, not a shake!
-
"Sounds great boss, when do I start?"
-
-
-
>Wow.
-
>Back in the present, you have to admit that hits a LOT closer to home than you were expecting.
-
>Apparently you had a lot more in common with this Bench Warmer than you'd presumed.
-
>And /that/ revelation leaves you stunned.
-
>Fact is, that’s likely the only reason you made it past your first few months with Jargon.
-
>She certainly wasn't keeping you around for what you wrote, she didn't even read it!
-
>Probably still doesn't.
-
"That's horrible."
-
>You didn't even mean to say that out loud, it just slipped out.
-
>The line between you and this stallionist character just blurred considerably.
-
>Is it even still there?
-
>"Oh don't be dramatic," Spitfire scoffs. "Aren't you types always harping on getting more stallions in the workforce?"
-
>”Yeah, come on,” Fleetfoot says while placing a “comforting” hoof on your withers. “We were just creating a job for him! A very /lucrative/ job at that.”
-
>You physically recoil, a magic hand shoving the mare’s hoof away.
-
>You’re going all in now!
-
“It’s /demeaning/ is what it is! Would you two /seriously/ be fine being stuck doing nothing all day just so some people could stare you down!? People who only want to fuck you and nothing else?!”
-
>Spitfire and Fleetfoot share only the briefest of glances between each other before turning back to you.
-
>”Yeah,” they say in perfect sync.
-
“Well..!”
-
>Whatever pathetic diatribe you were going to spew dies in your throat.
-
>Yeah, of course that was their response.
-
>They haven’t been there, they’ve got no idea what it's actually like.
-
>To them it probably sounds great!
-
>Shit, it would have sounded great to you too two years ago!
-
>But you know better now.
-
>You can bet the nuts these mares love so much that you know exactly how Bench Warmer feels.
-
>You’re just the one who was lucky enough and ingenuitive enough to excel despite that.
-
>Him? Who knows how long he’ll stay stuck on the bench.
-
>Wait, what’s this feeling in your chest?
-
>Is this empathy? For these annoying stallions?
-
>For the feminists back home?!
-
>Oh God, do you actually /understand/ where they’re coming from!?
-
>Like a character in an HP Lovecraft novel, you can feel your mind buckling under the weight of these revelations.
-
>Forget the interview, you need a moment to process this.
-
-
-
>In the professional opinion of yourself, THE Fleetfoot, this is going great!
-
>If things keep along this path, you think there’s a real good chance you and Spitfire will be gettin laid tonight!
-
>Oh yeah!
-
>Sure, things got a little dicey once Spits started spilling the beans about Seat Warmer.
-
>However, you think it turned out for the best.
-
>You thought he was really gonna let you have it there for a moment, but it seems your flawless logic has stunned him into silence!
-
>You’d never managed /that/ with a stallionist before, and they’d usually still let you hit too.
-
>That’s no reason to rest on your haunches though.
-
>A deal is only sealed when the key is IN the lock, and his silent ponderings are providing you with the perfect opportunity to actually plan your next move.
-
>Leaning towards the Captain, you beckon for her to huddle up with you.
-
"Psssst, hey Spits!" You whisper in her ear.
-
>Spitfire spares one last bewildered look towards the stallion before leaning in towards you.
-
>”What is it?”
-
>You quickly glance back at the stallion yourself to make sure he’s still stunned before you continue.
-
>He is.
-
“That was great! At first I wasn’t sure what you were thinking by bringing up Seat *Ahem* Bench Warmer, but that was really inspired!”
-
>Spitfire silently stares at you, obviously giving you permission to continue.
-
“I think if we keep up this good cop bad cop routine, this’ll be a done deal!”
-
>You pause, wanting to give Spitfire a chance to give her own thoughts on your progress.
-
>She blinks at you owlishly instead.
-
>”Fleetfoot, what the buck are you talking about?”
-
>You roll your eyes, of course she knows what you’re talking about.
-
>What, has she /not/ been trying to get him in bed this whole time?
-
“Hello? Getting this guy to sleep with us?”
-
>Her eyes go wide as she stumbles back, rapidly looking between you and the stallionist.
-
>For once in your life, you just saw Spitfire balk at a suggestion.
-
>”Wha— You think this guy’s going to /sleep/ with us? Are you insane?!”
-
>Clearly uncaring whether or not he notices, she points a hoof right at him.
-
>”He busts in here talking about Wind Rider and Bench... Fleet, I’m pretty sure he /hates/ us!”
-
“Oh P~lease!” you dismissively wave your hoof. “That’s how every desperate stallionist acts! And that’s all it is, and act.”
-
>You can tell she doesn’t believe you by how high her brow is raised.
-
>In a surprisingly touching act however, she places a hoof on your withers.
-
>Pulling herself even closer, she whispers, “Be honest, has this whole thing with Bench Warmer gotten to your head? Last thing I need is my wingmare going AWOL here.”
-
>You dismissively knock her hoof away.
-
“I’m sorry, /how/ many stallionists have you slept with again?”
-
>Spitfire starts to answer, but you cut her off when you catch the stallion coming to in the corner of your eye.
-
>You know the answer anyway, it's zero!
-
“Hey, there’s a can in your bag right?”
-
>She looks offended you’d even ask.
-
>”Of course!”
-
“Great! Keep playing rough with him but follow my lead.”
-
-
-
>Are you, Anonymous, a bad person?
-
>No, you’re just psyching yourself out.
-
>You’re too in your own head, you’ve got to—oh shit you’re WAY too in your own head!
-
>There’s still a damn interview going on!
-
>The adrenaline that comes with that realization helpfully brings you right back into the moment, you can have a crisis of beliefs later!
-
>Thankfully your “subjects” seem less than begrieveed by the sudden lapse of conversation.
-
>In fact, Fleetfoot looks positively ecstatic!
-
>You don’t like that.
-
>”Say, you don’t mind if Spits and I do a few stretches while we talk, do you? It's always best to limber up after a /hard/ workout.”
-
>Admittedly you’re very tempted to end the interview then and there.
-
>But, objectively speaking, this plan has been a complete success for you.
-
>Mental anguish notwithstanding, of course.
-
>In such a brief time you’ve been given more than enough information that you could turn the Bench Warmer scandal on its head.
-
>If you push just a little bit further, surely you can find something useful out about Wind Rider.
-
>Forget quitting while you’re ahead.
-
>Hopping back into the moment, you try to avoid thinking about how your answer and the stallionist answer are one and the same.
-
“If you /insist/.”
-
>Fleetfoot grins and immediately makes for the nearest bench, but you notice Spitfire hangs back.
-
>For the briefest of moments, you spy her worriedly looking between yourself and Fleetfoot, before silently following the other mare’s lead.
-
>Hm, /that’s/ unexpected. Makes you wonder if something happened while you were distracted.
-
>Putting that aside, you follow behind them without resistance.
-
>It doesn't take them long to pick out a spot, and before you know it they’ve started posing.
-
>You were expecting them to try something, but so far it seems like they’re actually doing regular old post-workout stretches.
-
>They’ve even zipped their flight suits back up to the neck!
-
>Perhaps it's too much to hope they’ve given up on sexually harassing you.
-
>Fleetfoot, stretching out her back legs like a cat, even starts things off for you.
-
>”So you wanted to know more about Wind Rider, right? What he was like?”
-
>Now you’re really suspicious, this is too easy.
-
“As a matter of fact, I would.”
-
>”Ha! No you don’t,” Spitfire barks as she pulls a forehoof behind her head. “The dude was a massive dick.”
-
>Fleetfoot spreads her wings wide as she responds, “I wouldn’t say it like that but the Captain is right. It may sound silly, but he was a straight up misogynist.”
-
>Ha! Now that’s a word you haven’t heard in a long time.
-
“Pffft, really?”
-
>Once again the persona reflects your honest thoughts.
-
>Fleetfoot leans back, and for the first time you notice how insanely tight the suits are.
-
>You always thought Silken took a few liberties with her Wonderbolts recreations, but now you're not so sure.
-
>”Surely you heard what he did,” the blue mare continues, “If he’d gotten away with it, that would have been the end of Cadet Dash’s career! Just because he didn’t want /her/ name to replace his.”
-
-
-
-
”It's not like he was subtle about it either.”
-
>You are Spitfire, Captain of the Wonderbolts, and you’ve picked up where Fleetfoot left off.
-
>You’re still completely unsure about this featherbrained scheme that she’s cooked up, but she was right: you’ve never managed to bag a stallionist before.
-
>He’s also stuck around, despite all odds, so maybe she’s on to something after all.
-
>Bending in a way that’s sure to show off your back legs, you continue.
-
“Sure he could act the part in public, but get one cider in him and the bitter old stallion would jump right out. I nearly had to escort him off base at our reunion three years ago after he threatened to go up on stage.”
-
>You notice Fleetfoot look over to you.
-
>”I always thought you /did/ escort him out.”
-
>Ha! Of course that’d be the version Fleet remembers, she was /trashed/.
-
>Heck, she was the reason he threatened to go up on stage to begin with.
-
“Nah, Nimbus talked him down and he left. Thank Celestia.”
-
>The stallion “hms” from behind you.
-
>Twisting around to look at him, he seems like he’s not paying attention to your bodies at all.
-
>Which is what /you/ assumed from the moment he scoffed at your tuft.
-
>Most stallions would have been tripping over themselves for a view like that, and he just pops an eyebrow.
-
>Maybe Fleet’s flown the coop after all.
-
>”Nimbus who? I didn’t see her on the program,” he continues.
-
>Fleet jumps in, eager to try to steer the conversation.
-
>”Nimble Nimbus, she’s out with an injury right now.”
-
>What she doesn’t mention is that it's a possibly career ending one.
-
>Not because it's particularly bad, but because Nimbus turned twenty-nine last year.
-
>Most mares have already retired by then, and that’s without having injuries that put them out for most of the season!
-
>”He was such an ornery guy. She was the only mare he tolerated and he /still/ barely liked her.”
-
>You keep your mouth shut for the moment, completely unsure where Fleet is going with this.
-
>Thankfully, she seems like she is going somewhere.
-
>”That’s what happens to stallions that grow old alone I suppose. All get all /gray/ and /bitter/.”
-
>She quickly shoots you a wink, and you realize that’s the signal.
-
>Reaching your hoof under the bench, you grab for your gym bag...
-
-
-
-
>You are Anonymous, and to be honest you haven’t been paying attention to most of what Fleetfoot was saying.
-
>The moment she gave you a name, you tuned out.
-
>Nimble Nimbus.
-
>Sounds like the pony you should talk to if you /actually/ want to get anything useful.
-
>And more than reason enough to finally leave, you’ve gotten everything you came for.
-
>You’ll just excuse yourself and—
-
>*Pssst*!
-
>The sudden sound startles you.
-
>Quickly checking around, you can’t quite pinpoint where it came from.
-
>It almost sounds like it came from /them/ but you don’t see any sort of can on them.
-
>Oh shit, Fleetfoot’s still talking.
-
>”It would be such a shame for a sweet guy like you to end up like that too, wouldn’t it?”
-
>Before you can figure out what she’s talking about, she and Spitefire do what you’re assuming they’ve been planning to do since you walked over here.
-
>Stretching like a cat, they lean their front halves down, while allowing their backsides to jut out.
-
>And holy /shit/ you thought their suits were tight before!
-
>You can practically see the entirety of their—
-
>Wait, what’s that smell?
-
>It almost smells like... OH JESUS CHRIST!
-
-
-
>You, Fleetfoot, can barely contain your excitement as the anticipation builds.
-
>And builds.
-
>Aaaaand builds.
-
>”*Hrrk*”
-
>Dang it, you’d like to get at least one wolf whistle in your life!
-
>At least that reaction was new, you suppose.
-
>It sounded like somepony holding in a cough, but that’d be a wildly abnormal reaction to say the least!
-
>Losing to your own curiosity, you peek around over your shoulder.
-
>He’s pressed himself up against the wall as he clearly tires to hold back a cough, and his eyes seem wide and... afraid?
-
>Oh Tartarus, were you coming on too strong after all?
-
>No, those are tears forming at the corners of his eyes, and you’ve certainly never made a stallion /cry/ by being too forward.
-
>Something else is up...
-
>Suddenly the damn breaks, and all at once he descends in a coughing fit.
-
>A fit that’s growing worse by the second.
-
>Spitfire’s noticed by now too and has completely abandoned her pose.
-
>”Hey, are you alright?”
-
>Her only response is the cough growing even worse, and the occasional gag.
-
>Suddenly, it all makes sense.
-
>Sprinting over to Spitfire’s gym bag, you begin tearing it apart looking for the can.
-
>Come on, where did she put it!?
-
Giving up, you shout, “What color /was/ that!?”
-
>She seems fairly occupied scanning the room for a first aid kit, but she manages an answer right as the stallion’s gagging reaches a crescendo.
-
>”Green?”
-
>You know it's not the right time, but you feel your temper boil over none the less.
-
“GREEN AXEL BODYSPRAY!? HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU—”
-
>”HurUUUUUAAAAAGHAGHUUUUUUH”
-
>You never even saw the vomit coming.
-
-
-
>Meanwhile, across town...
-
>You are Astral Blade, and the anticipation is killing you.
-
>This will be your first time seeing Pike since last night, and your mind is alight with questions.
-
>That goes for most of the unit too, you’d reckon.
-
>Everypony is just awkwardly shuffling around, waiting for their Sergeant to step in and hoof out assignments.
-
>You imagine they have the same questions you do, although no pony is voicing them.
-
>You’re not a bunch of gossiping cocks after all; idle speculation won’t get you anywhere.
-
>However, there is one topic you’re more than happy to speculate on...
-
>”Hey, Astral, have you seen Cloak anywhere?”
-
>Speak of Tirek, there’s Night Sky, here to start the exact line of conversation you were hoping to.
-
>Lowering your voice so the other mares can't hear, you say, “No, and I’m starting to think she played hooky today.”
-
>Night rolls her eyes, “A Nightstalker? Playing hooky? Don’t be absurd.”
-
>You slyly elbow her.
-
“Well, if she’s not out cowering in fear of her impending court-martialing, where is she?”
-
>Night rolls her eyes AGAIN! This must be a new personal record for you.
-
>”We can’t /court-martial/ her for that! Inappropriate as it was, she didn’t break any laws.”
-
>You groan, but Night puts a hoof on your withers to stop you.
-
>"/However/, that hardly means we lack the means for official recourse. Regardless we should wait for Sergeant—"
-
>The sound of the doors being pushed open makes the room instantly fall silent.
-
>All eyes are on them as in trots Stable Sepulchre, sergeant of the day.
-
>With bated breath everypony waits for who should be following behind her...
-
>...only for nopony to be there at all, the doors falling shut behind Sepulchre.
-
>You and Night share a silent look, concern growing between the both of you.
-
>Sepulchre does nothing to address this, of course.
-
>"Troops!" she unnecessarily shouted over the room. "There's been a change of plans for today. Your updated assignments are posted on the door behind me. Any questions you have, report them /to me/. Understood?"
-
"Ma'am. Yes, ma'am!" You echo back with the room.
-
>"Excellent. Dismissed!"
-
>You take a step back in shock.
-
>New /postings/? Pike was supposed to run drills today!
-
>Did she change the schedule?
-
>No way, she hates it when ponies make changes at the last minute.
-
>But then again, who else would?
-
>Night, clearly eager for answers too, beelines towards Sepulchre.
-
>Her determined canter cuts through the crowd like butter, leaving you the perfect path to follow behind.
-
>As you move among the gathered mares, you can already hear some of them expressing quiet concern about this abnormal turn of events.
-
>You're right there with them.
-
>Before, you hadn't been particularly worried about Pike. Now however...
-
>Your mind flashes back to her panic stricken face from the night before.
-
>You'd never seen her like that, not even when the last Sergeant bucked up and left the two of you stranded in the middle of the Everfree Forest.
-
>Up until now you'd pegged it on her just being drunk off her flanks, but the sinking feeling in your gut says that may have just been wishful thinking.
-
>Sepulchre sees your approach. "Ah. Corporal, Specialist, just the two mares I'd wanted to speak to."
-
>The coat on the back of your neck stands straight up.
-
>You do NOT like this. Not one bit.
-
>Night speaks up before you’ve even thought up a reply, "Stable, what's going on here?"
-
>Having worked with Sepulchre for many years, you know she's not the kind of mare who looks away when delivering bad news.
-
>Instead, she has a very peculiar way of making intense eye contact.
-
>Eye contact she's now making with Night.
-
>"We should talk outside."
-
-
-
>You are Nocturnal Pike, and you’ve just done something you hated.
-
>Something you never thought you’d do.
-
>Something that ruins months upon months of perfect planning!
-
>You changed the guard schedule: the MORNING OF!
-
>You’d have KILLED Sepulchre, or even Blueblood, for doing that.
-
>Yet the blame for this blunder solely rests on you, and the fact you’re hiding in your office.
-
>”Like a coward,” Mom’s voice echoes inside your head.
-
>For the first time in a long time, you have no retort for the inner voice.
-
>She’s right: you /are/ a coward.
-
>You spent all morning dodging Anon’s questions only to start dodging your responsibilities the moment you set hoof in the castle.
-
>Is this going to be your life from now on?
-
>Running from place to place, never interacting with anypony lest you be forced to confront your issues?
-
>Of course not, you can’t live like that. Nopony can!
-
>The obvious and only real solution is staring you right in the face.
-
>It's time to come clean.
-
>If you, Nocturnal Pike, look back on every value you were raised on, every value you've tried to exemplify your /whole life/, you see there is only one conclusion.
-
>You are no mare.
-
>And just like that, a great weight falls upon you.
-
>A pathetic mewl escapes your lips as the implications of your admission hit you at mach speed.
-
>Luna defend you.
-
>If this is how an /internal/ admission feels, how will it feel to admit this to Anon? To Cut? To Astral? To /your mom/!?
-
>The thought of every new confrontation physically beats you down, bending your posture until your head rests in your hooves.
-
>But there's no other way to square it.
-
>Even now, at this very moment, your conclusion is being actively validated.
-
>Mares are meant to be stoic; unshakable.
-
>Yet here you are, fraught with anxiety and on the verge of tears.
-
>"You're pathetic," your mom's voice rings in your ears.
-
>What's worse is even your happy thoughts are turning against you.
-
>Trying to stave off despair, you desperately grab at any happier time you can get.
-
>But all your mind’s eye finds are images of Anon doting on you.
-
>Sitting in the tub as he treats you to a spa day.
-
>Blushing as hell tells you how cute you look in one of Silken's outfits...
-
>You can feel yourself desperately wanting to take comfort in these things.
-
>Remembering how they made you feel so warm, so loved.
-
>That just makes it all so much worse.
-
>Stars, what is WRONG with you?
-
>Dimly you realize you've long since started spiraling, and your training swiftly kicks in.
-
>Deep breaths, focus on your breathing and on /anything/ else.
-
>Your eyes dart around the office, looking for something to center yourself on.
-
>Some idea, some memory, /anything/.
-
>There was plenty to focus on; your office is filled with trinkets and awards from your time in the guard.
-
>Medals you'd won, framed commendations your unit had gotten, your diploma...
-
>Countless things to remind you of your storied and successful career.
-
>But even those memories aren't safe.
-
>After only a brief respite, your mother's voice booms in your head once more, "A career only possible thanks to what /I/ taught you!"
-
>"You led by embodying those principles! Your mares excelled because you passed those values onto them!"
-
>You want to shout, scream at her to shut up, but years of discipline win out and you keep the outburst down.
-
>Which ended up working in your favor, as a brief moment of clarity reminds you of something important.
-
>You're not /actually/ arguing with your mom right now.
-
>This is all in your head: some weird personification of your anxieties, not an actual pony.
-
>So what good would it do you to tell "her" to shut up? You're the one asking the questions here.
-
>And the question is: how can a brudder like you, practically a colt with teats, lead this unit?
-
>*Knock knock*
-
>It's only when you've tasted blood that you realize you've sunk your fangs into your bottom lip.
-
>Any relief you felt in the face of something concrete to focus on is washed away by a new wave of anxiety.
-
>"Nocturnal, are you still in there?"
-
>You’d figured out who would be on the other side of that door long before they spoke.
-
>It was Sepulchre, undoubtedly keen to find out why you'd uncharacteristically upended the day.
-
>It would be so easy just to pretend you were here or send her away...
-
>But taking the easy route is what's gotten you into this mess, isn't it?
-
>Alright Pike, poker face.
-
>You were NOT in the middle of having a crisis, no ma'am.
-
"Come in!"
-
>Only /just/ remembering the poke in your lip, you manage to wipe the blood away with a hoof right as the mare walks in.
-
>As usual her face is fairly impassive, although you catch that the very edges of her mouth are ever so slightly downturned.
-
>An expression of concern you suppose.
-
>Sepulchre’s usually one to get right down to business, so you elect to sit quietly and let her start.
-
>She takes longer than you’d have liked, spending a few silent moments sizing you up from the other side of the desk.
-
>The longer she waits, the more your anxieties threaten to flare up once more.
-
>Forcing you to dump ever more of your mental faculties into keeping your face straight.
-
>To not show a SINGLE sign of weakness.
-
>Which leaves you so hyper focused that you don't even notice the blood continuing to run from your lip until it reaches your chin.
-
>Too late to do anything about it now.
-
>Maybe if you just ignore it she won’t notice?
-
>Oh who are you kidding?
-
>The mare’s eyes are already tracing your face, widening slightly as they settle upon your self-inflicted puncture wound.
-
>Which is what finally motivates her to speak.
-
>”Nocturnal I—” she cuts herself off, clearing her throat and straightening her posture before continuing. “My subordinates have relayed to me some /troubling/ rumors.”
-
>Like the cork off a campaign bottle you feel your anxiety /explode/.
-
>Oh Luna, did word somehow get out already?
-
>Did somepony see the apron and spill the beans!?
-
>”And I must ask: is everything alright at home?”
-
>Just as the fear threatens to spill over, something lets you pump the brakes.
-
>Her question seemed to imply the problem was your relationship with Anon, not you.
-
“What do you mean?”
-
>For the first time you’ve ever seen, Stable Sepulchre looks nervous.
-
>”I’ll be blunt. Your coltfriend, Anonymous? Has he been... abusing you?”
-
>It appears that today’s emotional roller coaster is far from over.
-
>You really shouldn’t be surprised, considering the way he covered for you last night, but the sincerity of the question still catches you off guard.
-
>Maybe it's the absurdity of the idea, or maybe you were just overly desperate for some levity, but in either case, you find yourself laughing out loud.
-
>Which of course does nothing to soothe the visibly perturbed Sepulchre, but you really couldn’t care less right now.
-
>”Nocturnal, this is serious.”
-
>You make no attempt to even acknowledge her question, losing yourself to the deep belly laugh.
-
>The very idea of Anon abusing you has you crying with laughter.
-
>He doesn’t have an abusive bone in his body!
-
>He practically had a panic attack worrying about hurting your and Cut’s feelings, and HE’S the “abusive” one!
-
>What a riot!
-
>”Nocturnal!” Sepulchre comes with a hair’s breadth of shouting.
-
>Realizing you’re coming dangerously close to actually pissing the mare off, you finally try to get a hold of yourself.
-
“Ha! Ahhh, sorry Sepulchre it's just... Anon’s not the problem here.”
-
>She doesn’t look like she believes you, which you suppose would be a good thing if he /was/ abusing you.
-
>”Are you certain? I’ve heard some pretty dire things.”
-
>You let out a breath that it felt like you were holding for ages.
-
>That laugh really gave you a second wind, you feel like you can focus again.
-
>Focus on something that isn’t your own anxieties, anyway.
-
>“I’m sure, Stable. It’s on me, and my mom.”
-
>You look away from her, focusing instead on a framed picture of you and your mother.
-
>It was the day you graduated from officer's school.
-
>The photo was just of the two of you, you dressed in your shiny new armor...
-
>You were so excited you’d wanted to jump for joy, but you knew Mom wanted you to stay stoic.
-
>To not outwardly show your emotions, like a true mare.
-
>You wouldn’t know it from the photo, but she said she’d never been prouder of you that day.
-
“I just... need some time to figure things out is all.”
-
>When you turn back towards Sepulchre, you see her face has returned to its natural neutral position.
-
>”I see. I suppose if this is going to continue to impact the quality of your work, you intend to make use of your excess of your vacation days then?”
-
>Your breath catches in your throat.
-
“My what?”
-
>”You have the better part of two months after all,” she continues. “Especially after you covered for me when my filly was born.”
-
>You feel like such an absurdly massive moron.
-
>How did you forget about those!?
-
>Oh who are you trying to fool, you know exactly how you forgot about those.
-
>You’re such a workaholic you haven’t taken a non-crown-mandated holiday in YEARS!
-
>A half-formed idea shoots right to the surface of your mind, and you’re desperate enough that you act on it without a second thought.
-
“Yes!” you try not to sound like you’re pulling this out of your flank. “As a matter of fact I’d like to take off from now until after Hearthswarming. Now as in, right now.”
-
>Sepulchre looks genuinely taken aback.
-
>”Oh! Well, normally I’d insist we discuss coverages and run this by the staff sergeant first. But frankly, I foresee no issues with your schedules or your unit. I suppose you can head home and I’ll pass this on to Horseshoe.”
-
>She takes one more worried glance at your bloodied lip.
-
>”Personal emergency and all that.”
-
>Even now you can feel that malformed idea coming together into a “plan”, and that alone is enough to let you breathe a true sigh of relief.
-
>Some ponies might consider this running away from your problems here, but sometimes a tactical retreat is the best option.
-
“Thank you, Stable.”
-
>And with that, you take wing.
-
-
-
>You’re standing in front of the door to your apartment now, trying to think of what you’re going to say.
-
>It took awhile to get here, both literally and figuratively you suppose.
-
>Literally because you took the long way home.
-
>You undeniably needed it.
-
>While Thestrals normally don’t agree with the winter air, you found it did wonders to help you clear your head.
-
>And the raw distance itself gave you plenty of time to think.
-
>To chew on that half-formed idea of what to do without your sudden vacation until it became a real plan of attack.
-
>And therein lies the figurative aspect.
-
>Because no matter how you saw this going, you knew there was only one way you could start.
-
>You needed to actually open up and talk to Anon and Cut about this.
-
>By trying to work this out on your own, all you’ve been doing was depriving yourself of every support network you had.
-
>Which is what led to the waking nightmare you had in your office today.
-
>A mare may not be supposed to open up like this, but it's what needs to be done.
-
>So with a deep breath, you place your hoof on the knob and open the door.
-
>There’s nopony in the main room, but you immediately notice Anon’s discarded saddlebags lying by the couch.
-
>Which is very odd, he usually doesn’t just toss them in a corner like that.
-
>What’s even stranger is Anon rarely gets home before Cut, but you don’t see hide nor hair of her either.
-
>If they were in the /bedroom/ you’d at least hear something but—
-
>Hold on, you DO hear something.
-
>”Oh God. It’s so much worse than it was in Junior High. How is it worse?”
-
>It's the muffled sound of Anon’s voice, it sounds like it's coming from the bathroom.
-
>And it sounds like he’s in distress!
-
>You pick up the pace, tearing your way through your humble home until you round the corner into the bathroom.
-
>There you find quite possibly the most miserable looking stallion you’ve ever seen.
-
”Sweet Luna what happened!?”
-
>He’s seated in the tub, soaked from head to hoof in bathwater.
-
>Your assessment of his voice was clearly accurate.
-
>Even as the soothing sounds of brush on fur fill the room, he’s shivering with revulsion.
-
>Furthermore as he weakly looks toward you, you recognize the burdened expression of a pony who’s recently tossed their oats.
-
>Seeing you come in, his pallid face lights up just a little, and he weakly reaches toward you.
-
>”Pike... Pike come here...” his voice sounds as pathetic as he looks.
-
>As he stretches out, a familiar tan face peeks out from behind him.
-
>”Oh, hey Pike! Uh, welcome home?”
-
>Still hoping for some answers, and seeing as Anon was clearly a little out of it, you make for Cut’s side of the tub.
-
>In contrast to how lazy the motion seemed earlier, Anon’s hoof tracks you the whole way with laser accuracy.
-
>As you near Cut you make the mistake of coming within range, and that’s when he strikes!
-
>His sopping wet hoof goes right into your mane to start petting your head.
-
>You’re a little annoyed by having the bath brought to you, but you let him have his moment.
-
>It's not like it feels /bad/, mane full of bathwater notwithstanding.
-
>Having closed the distance, Cut leans down to whisper to you.
-
>”The medics didn’t give me many specifics, but apparently he had a BAD reaction to some bodyspray.”
-
>Her eyes shift between him and yourself.
-
>”He uh, doesn’t like talking about it. He threw up. A lot.”
-
>Ah, that explains it.
-
>It's like an inverse version of when you used your tuft to calm him down.
-
>Instead of leaving him smiley and giddy he’s been left pallid and queasy.
-
>And more importantly, in no condition to have the serious conversation you’d wanted.
-
>Normally you’d be over the moon at that, the universe giving you an excuse to put off things once more.
-
>This time though? It sucks.
-
>Moving his hoof off your head, you wipe the bathwater off your face.
-
Letting out a sigh, you reply, “Ah, I see. I’ll go get some tea going. I know we’ve got /something/ that should settle our little diva’s stomach.”
-
>You heard Cut chuckle as you turned away, before making for the door.
-
>You figured that’d be the end of it.
-
>Until you realized your hooves weren’t touching the ground.
-
>”Oh NO you don’t!”
-
>Anon, seemingly having found his second wind, magically lifts you into the air.
-
>Before you can even reflexively EEEE, he’s dragging you into the tub with him.
-
“ANON!” you shout.
-
>But it's too late, you’ve splashed down.
-
>If you were wet before, you’re soaked now.
-
>You can’t even properly thrash, because just as quickly you find yourself imprisoned by large fuzzy green bars that lock you in a bear hug.
-
>You blush more than a little as those bars press you against his underside with all his strength.
-
>Guess he doesn’t want you to go.
-
>When he speaks, his voice isn’t nearly as weak as it was before.
-
>Although, that could be because when you’re below him like this you can /feel/ his voice as much as you hear it.
-
>”You’re not going anywhere! Me and Cut let you off the hook this morning, but not this time! You’re going to tell us what’s been bothering you, or I’m keeping you here all night.”
-
>To emphasize his point, he squeezes you just a little bit.
-
>It's a symbolic gesture, you know you /could/ get out of his grip if you wanted.
-
>In fact, a part of you really wants to, in revenge for such blatant marehandling.
-
>But... even soaking wet you can’t deny how nice it feels.
-
>Huddled under him like this, you feel so safe.
-
>Paradoxically, despite being the source of your troubles you feel like all the world’s problems are a million miles away.
-
>Guess this is a sign Pike, it's now or never.
-
“Okay... okay.”
-
-
-
>So you told them everything.
-
>All the way from the very beginning, from that first night when he spooned you.
-
>Every fear, every second guess, you lay it all bare for the two of them.
-
>Much to your shame, you even started sobbing halfway through.
-
>Anon and Cut said there was nothing wrong with that of course, but you knew better.
-
>Sobbing like a filly into your coltfriend’s foreleg? Completely embarrassing, no matter what they say.
-
>Despite that, by the end you felt great.
-
>Like a massive weight had been lifted from your shoulders.
-
>It all feels so clear now, you should have done this ages ago.
-
>You’re all still in the tub of course, the water having turned lukewarm thirty minutes ago.
-
>But not once did anypony make a move to leave, Anon and Cut stayed with you the whole time.
-
>Cut even came around to the other side of you, to put you in a “hug sandwich” as she awkwardly called it.
-
>And that hug sandwich is where you’ve stayed.
-
>”God, Pike, I’m so sorry. How did I... why didn’t you tell us sooner?”
-
>You look up and give him what passes for a deadpan look with your swollen puffy eyes.
-
>”Uh, right. Dumb question, you went over that already.”
-
>The schadenfreude of watching him trip over his own thoughts puts a little smile on your face.
-
>Cut of course is fairing no better.
-
>”Thank you for telling us. I-I,” she wipes a small tear of her own out of her eye. “I don’t think I could have if I were you. I don’t think I’d be strong enough.”
-
>This? Strong?
-
>You’ll have to disagree with her there, but you appreciate the gesture.
-
>Before you can say anything though, Anon presses himself into you even harder.
-
>”I can’t believe I’ve been putting you through this the whole time and I didn’t know. God I’m so, so sorry.”
-
>Oh no, you know where this is going!
-
>That last thing you’re going to stand for right now is your coltfriend beating himself up over this, no ma’am!
-
“Anon don’t,” the finality in your voice cuts him off. “These months have been the best I’ve had in years. You made me /happy/.”
-
>Reaching up a hoof, you run it along his face.
-
“So don’t you DARE do that thing where you work yourself into a tizzy over my feelings. It's MY turn to be a little bastard this time, you hear me?”
-
>At first he doesn’t say anything, and you start to worry your little joke might have been too ill timed.
-
>But then a chuckle from him, and a snrrk from Cut is all it takes before the three of you break out into familiar laughter.
-
>With the mood finally lifted, Anon states the obvious.
-
>”Guess we should get out of the tub, huh?”
-
>They finally let you go, and while you’ll miss their embrace, they are right.
-
>Time to get your flank out of this water.
-
>”Yeeeeah,” says Cut.
-
>You let the two of them go first, not wanting to get lost in a tangle of limbs.
-
>Anon’s out first, and he of course starts shaking himself off like a dog.
-
>Cut herself is only halfway out when she turns back to you.
-
>”So what are we going to do about your unit? And... well...”
-
>”My sister,” is the part she can’t bring herself to say.
-
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I’ve decided to step away from the unit for the time being, give myself some time to think.”
-
>”Step away?” Anon asks with a hint of concern. “How so?”
-
>You nervously rub the back of your head.
-
“I just took some vacation days! I only had... two months...”
-
>Anon and Cut guffaw at your embarrassed expression.
-
>”Yeah, I bet you do, you little workaholic,” he laughs. “What are you even going to do with yourself until Hearthswarming?”
-
>That is a very good question.
-
>One you really hadn’t given much thought to.
-
“I don’t know. Try all the things I’ve wanted to do since I was a filly I guess?”
-
>You dig through your brain to find an example.
-
“Paint maybe?”
-
>Anon snorts through his nose.
-
>”Sorry honey, but I don’t see you as the painting type.”
-
>”Hey! You don’t know that!” Cut fires back. “Maybe she’s got a hidden talent for it.”
-
>Finally feeling it was time to climb out of the tub yourself, you take wing.
-
>Heading right for Anon, you make several quick turns above his head.
-
>This, as you’ve found, dries you off very effectively!
-
>...and dumps all the water onto whoever’s below you.
-
>”Wha— hey!”
-
>Aha! Revenge at last for being marehandled and dragged into the tub.
-
>With a smile on your face, you land right next to the once again sopping wet Anon.
-
“And I call this masterpiece: Soaked Stallion!”
-
>Cut giggles into her hoof while the stallion grumbles, his previous queasiness all but forgotten.
-
>”Har har har,” he says. “Laugh while you can: tonight it's my turn to cook!”
-
-
>You, Anonymous the Unicorn, stirred in your slumber.
-
>After yesterday, you felt like you could’ve slept for a week.
-
>Celestia always brings that damn sun up, so here you were waking up once again.
-
>Gently moving your big old hoof around the covers, you play out an unusual morning ritual that’s worked its way into your repertoire.
-
>Eventually you bump it into someone, and a quick ruffle of her fur confirms it’s Cut.
-
>Then it occurs to you: is it weird you’re able to tell Pike and Cut apart by how fuzzy they are?
-
>Hmmm.
-
>Trying not to face the harsh reality of the answer to that question, you continue idly running your hoof through Cut’s fur.
-
>You don’t know what she’s been doing, but it's been a lot softer recently!
-
>Cut clearly appreciates the attention, cooing softly in her sleep and scooting up against you.
-
>Heh, if Pike’s your huggable living teddy bear, Cut’s your squeezable living pillow.
-
>Hey, speaking of your living teddy bear... she doesn’t seem to be around.
-
>Or at least you can’t feel her.
-
>Which is odd, it's a rarity for her not to either be on top of you or under you in some way.
-
>Seeing as her bat brain seldom has her up before you.
-
>You’ve often wondered how she doesn’t find those positions uncomfortable, but then again /you’ve/ never found them uncomfortable either.
-
>Some weird pony thing you suppose.
-
>Almost as weird as your damn hyperactive nose!
-
>A nose that’s smelling... breakfast. Lots and LOTS of breakfast, the most intense breakfast you’ve ever smelled!
-
>Your eyes snap open in perfect sync with Cut’s.
-
>”Do you..?”
-
>You nod back.
-
>Now that you’re focusing on it, it smells like someone cooked an entire breakfast buffet in your own damn house!
-
>Still shaking off the dregs of sleep, you and Cut languidly flop off Pike’s shortened bed and trot out of the bedroom.
-
>Only to find that the kitchen counters have, in actuality, been filled to the brim with plates of breakfast food.
-
>You aren’t sure what else you expected.
-
>”EEEEeeeeeEEEEeeee...”
-
>Your head whips toward the defeated sound.
-
>Their lies Pike, face up on the ground, looking utterly deflated.
-
>”eeeeeee...”
-
>Without hesitation you rush to her side.
-
Lifting the small bat in your hooves, you cry out: “PIKE! Speak to me!”
-
>Her eyes roll over to focus on you.
-
>”Eeeee— Oh, hey you two. I,” she interrupts herself with a wide yawn, “I didn’t hear you get up.”
-
>You blearily look around the room, once again taking in the breadth of the meal set before you.
-
“I mean, not that I don’t appreciate a surprise breakfast. But what is all this?”
-
>Unsteadily, she extracts herself from your hooves, still blinking the sleep out of her eyes.
-
>“Oh, this? I woke up a little earlier than usual so I figured I’d... you know, put something together!”
-
>”A /little/ earlier?” Cut marvels under her breath. “This must have taken hours...”
-
>You think Cut’s right. Based on the state of Pike and the sheer amount of food, it seems like “a little earlier” is a serious understatement.
-
>But why? Pike /hates/ getting up early.
-
>Even years of guard training never managed to get that out of her.
-
>There’s definitely something more going on here.
-
>Heck, it left her so out of it she didn’t even notice Cut say anything, and she’s got the best hearing here!
-
>”Then when I was done, I realized I still had some time and didn’t know what to do and—”
-
>She interrupts herself with another fanged yawn.
-
>Alright, enough is enough you say.
-
“Well, let’s get you back in bed and then we can worry about eating.”
-
>”What? No! Eat now while it's still warm!”
-
>Knowing she’s far too weak to fight back, you assert yourself as the man of the house and throw her over your shoulder.
-
>”Nooooo! Anoooooon!” she feebly cries.
-
“No buts! Back to bed!”
-
>She struggles the whole way back of course, but compared to what you know she’s capable of, this is nothing.
-
>Heck, by the time you’ve even gotten back to the bed, /that/ even seems like too much for her.
-
>She’s resigned herself to quietly mumbling about being “marehandled” under her breath and nothing more.
-
>But, you’re taking no chances.
-
>Very gently, you levitate her over and act quick as a flash!
-
>Before she could even hope to wiggle free, you’ve got her wrapped in a blanket cocoon of impenetrable might.
-
>Which, in her current state, means she’s now stuck on the bed no matter /what/ she does.
-
>”Nooo! I’m not a moth, I'm a baaaaaaaaat...” she cries.
-
>But not even a moment later, those melted away to the soft sounds of a snoozing Pike.
-
>You let out a relieved sigh and turned around just in time to catch Cut walking in with three plates carefully balanced on her back.
-
>Aaaah she was going to serve everyone some breakfast in bed, that genius!
-
>She knows she’s a genius too, you can see the wisps of a satisfied smile on her face.
-
>At least until she focuses too much on balancing the plates and trips over her hooves.
-
>”WoooOOOAAAHH!”
-
>For a moment it almost looks like she’s going to salvage it.
-
>She leans into the stumble, hard.
-
>So hard that she actually manages to keep the plates from immediately flying off her back.
-
>Unfortunately, it was also so hard there was no way for her to recover.
-
>The lean rapidly turned into a fall, pulling her hooves right out from under her.
-
>But just when the plates start to leave her back...
-
>You reach out.
-
>Being a unicorn, who you’ve decided must be the most OP of the tribes, you’re unconstrained by things like distance or number
-
>You don’t have to throw yourself off the bed and rush over to Cut so you can catch her, you just /do/.
-
>Before even a crumb can hit the ground, Cut and all three plates are perfectly caught in your hands like you’re Spiderman.
-
>It takes Cut a second to open her eyes, having clenched them shut in anticipation for her reunion with the floor.
-
>When she does, she silently sends you a grateful smile.
-
>Which you must say goes /fantastic/ with her embarrassed blush.
-
>Seeing as you’re already on a roll today, you decide to hoist Cut into the bed directly for some of that breakfast in bed.
-
>She is heavier than Pike, obviously, but with a few extra hands...
-
>Wait, would that actually help?
-
>It's all going back to your horn anyway.
-
>Would distributing the weight further /actually/ result in less strain if it requires you to project more hands to do so?
-
>What’s the baseline thaumic strain per hand to weight lifting ratio?
-
>...you’re going to kill this line of thought before you lose your focus and drop her.
-
-
-
>You are Nocturnal Pike, and you just had one weird dream.
-
>You woke up /really/ early, but despite that, you were unusually ready and raring to go!
-
>So ready to work in fact, that you decided to capitalize on these feelings of domesticity and surprise your herd with some breakfast!
-
>Breakfast you made, only to realize there were still a good couple of hours before they’d be up.
-
>Which left you with nothing to do but make something else!
-
>And something else. And something else...
-
>Why does the entire house smell like breakfast food?
-
>”W-Well I’m not exactly the most /well-versed/ in magical theory. But if I had to guess, the weight distribution seems like it would offset the cost of maintaining the hands up to a certain point.”
-
>”Ah but I want to know what that point is! Although, it would probably vary by weight. Hmmm damn.”
-
>Great. First thing in the morning and your herd’s already being NERDS.
-
>Better put a stop to that!
-
>You attempt to stretch your hooves, only to realize you can’t move them at all.
-
>It feels like you’re wrapped in something. Wrapped TIGHT.
-
>Snapping your eyes open, you find yourself bound to the bed.
-
>Wrapped in a blanket cocoon that seems suspiciously familiar.
-
>Oh no.
-
“Anon.”
-
>He pauses mid-bite of some even more suspiciously familiar breakfast food.
-
>”Oh you’re up!”
-
“I didn’t turn everything in the ice box into a gigantic breakfast, did I?” you flatly ask.
-
>He shares a sheepish look with Cut.
-
>”Well, not /everything/.”
-
>Oh no! It was real! It was all real!
-
>Awwwww what were you THINKING!? Is everypony supposed to eat breakfast leftovers for the next week?!
-
>It had just been so... fun!
-
>It was /fun/ to try out all those new recipes knowing that Anon and Cut would eventually dig into them.
-
>All without even the slightest fear of reprimand.
-
>Besides, it's not like you had anything else to do in what counted as the wee hours of the morning for you.
-
>”This quiche is really good, Pike!” Cut says between mouthfuls. “I didn’t even know we /had/ pastry dough!”
-
>You let out a sigh, still a little disappointed in yourself for getting so lost in the moment.
-
>But... you suppose it's not all bad.
-
>Massive waste of food or not, neither of /them/ seem particularly upset about it.
-
>If anything it seems like they love it!
-
>You can spy a plate left out for you, but an attempt to reach for it just serves to remind you that you are still functionally imprisoned here.
-
>Sure, you could probably fight your way out of it. But where’s the fun in that?
-
“Are you two going to unwrap me?”
-
>You nod your head toward the food they left.
-
“Or is this one of those restaurants where the waiter hoof feeds you?”
-
>Anon’s eyebrow shoots in that adorable way it does whenever you say something that offends his human stallion sensibilities.
-
>”Wha— no. You are messing with me.” He turns towards Cut, concern creeping into his voice. “That’s not real.”
-
>Focusing as hard as you can, you pray she picks up on your mental cues.
-
>Times like this you wish she was a bat.
-
>There are few things better than talking at frequencies other tribes can’t hear right in front of them.
-
>She blushes, “Well, uh I don’t know anything about that—”
-
>NOOOOO!
-
>”—but Aunt Jargon made me go to a restaurant where we ate /off/ of a stallion once. It was uh... not great.”
-
>Huh, that was a /very/ convincing delivery by Cut.
-
>Too convincing.
-
>Anon rolls his eyes, "Okay, now I KNOW you two are full of it.”
-
>”It's true!” she cries, “She wanted to celebrate some award the paper got, so she dragged me along!”
-
>Cut crosses her forehooves like she’s incensed, but she seems more sad than anything.
-
>”I don’t even LIKE sushi. And the stallion was really weird about it too.”
-
>You don’t really want to admit it, but you’re starting to believe this really isn’t a joke.
-
>Cut’s humor rarely leans toward absurdism, and this seems too out there to even be funny!
-
>Anon still clearly doesn’t believe her, “And what, was he naked? Oh ew, was there hair in the sushi!?”
-
>A shameful blush colors Cut’s face, and she completely refuses to look either of you in the eyes.
-
>Okay, either her acting’s gotten way more convincing, or she’s not joking.
-
>Whispering, she replies, “Full tack.”
-
>Your heart stops.
-
>Anon, his weak Unicorn hearing not tipping him off, asks, “Sorry, what?”
-
>This time, Cut manages to get her voice above a whisper.
-
>”H-He was in full tack.”
-
>Uhhhhh WHAT!?
-
>There is not a doubt in your mind she’s not joking now, that reaction was too real.
-
>The heck was Jargon thinking!?
-
>Cut STILL has trouble keeping it together when things get lewd, and that's with her /coltfriend/.
-
>In what world would putting her in that situation be a good idea?
-
>You're all lucky the poor mare didn't have a stress-induced heart attack!
-
>The reality of the situation is rapidly dawning on Anon now too.
-
>Now with far less mirth, he asks, “What, like that horse riding stuff you two wanted me to buy at Silkens?”
-
>Cut only barely manages a nod, before locking eyes with her hooves and starting to idly tap them together.
-
>A tell you instantly recognize as something she does whenever she’s embarrassed.
-
>Anon, who clearly also believes her now, is flabbergasted, “Why on Earth did Jargon do that?”
-
>Cut flinches ever so slightly, and grimaces at the memory.
-
>”S-Something about it being easier to talk to stallions after I’d seen one dressed up. I don’t remember.”
-
>Stars damn it, that is EXACTLY how that idiot would justify it.
-
>An angry screech starts to build in the back of your throat, but you force it down.
-
>Add that to the long list of reasons you hope Jargon puts you in a self-defense situation one day.
-
>Anon was obviously equally unenthused.
-
>While he shook his head in disapproval, his mind was no doubt already slinging expletives never before heard by ponykind.
-
>”Unbelievable,” he mutters. “There’s something wrong with you ponies.”
-
>WHAT!? Hey wait a minute!
-
>Who’s Anon think he is, trying to act holier than thou and lay this on the equine race?
-
>You’ve heard his stories about humans and you’re not going to take such SLANDER lying down!
-
>Deciding it is decisively not fun to keep waiting, you fight valiantly against the blankets constricting you.
-
>Thanks to some choice applications of your finest anti-grappling techniques, you eventually loosen the knot.
-
>Then, with naught but a flex of your marely mare muscles, you are freed!
-
>Anon was so busy smiling at your fight he couldn’t even hope to prepare himself for your accusatory boop.
-
>It of course lands true, and he lets out an adorable, “wooah!”
-
“Don’t you start mister! I’d bet my fangs humans had the same thing— no, something even weirder!”
-
>He shakes it off, and you note he’s getting better at recovering from those.
-
>”Nuh uh! I NEVER heard about something like that happening back home! What would even be the point? Beat off while you eat?”
-
>Anon stops dead as a look of true horror blooms on his face.
-
>One that mirrors yours.
-
>It seems the same horrible revelation occurred to you the same moment it did to him.
-
>Slowly, fearfully, the two of you turn back to Cut.
-
>His voice was uncharacteristically unsteady as he asked, “Jargon didn’t... y-you know... did she?”
-
>Cut blinks, her eyes lacking comprehension.
-
>”Did she what?”
-
>You and Anon share another uneasy look.
-
>Neither of you want to say it, to breathe the horrifying possibility into existence.
-
>So you settle for making a certain hoof motion every mare knows.
-
>This time her eyes light up.
-
>”Oh. Oh! EWWW! NO! What is wrong with the two of you!?”
-
>Anon raises his hooves defensively.
-
>”Hey, hey, you’ve gotta admit Cut: your family’s let you see some pretty weird stuff.”
-
>Like the wind was sucked right out from beneath her metaphorical wings, her righteous indignation evaporates.
-
>”W-Well I guess I see what you mean. But she wouldn’t do that!”
-
>You and Anon double-team her with a flat look, but surprisingly she stands her ground.
-
>”She /wouldn’t/.”
-
>He chuckles, “Yeah, well I don’t believe you. And that’s just /another/ reason why you and I are going to play hooky today!”
-
>You stop, utterly surprised.
-
>It's not abnormal for Anon to skip work, but Cut too?
-
>Besides, you’d fully expected to spend the day alone at home to test out being a housewife.
-
“Since when?”
-
>”Since you were out cold. We discussed it and seeing as /someone/ decided to blow through nearly every bit of foodstuff we had at our apartment, I figured the three of us could take a trip to the market. Spend some time together.”
-
>That certainly doesn’t sound like a bad idea!
-
>Although, you feel there’s something “off” about it.
-
>Something you can’t quite put your hoof on.
-
>Ah well, it probably doesn’t matter.
-
>Cut buts in, “A-And while that still sounds like a good idea, I can’t just not show up to work! I’m the chief editor!”
-
>Hmm, she seems oddly reserved about the idea of not skipping work.
-
>Cut’s work ethic was nothing to sneeze at, you’d think she’d have an easier time standing her ground on an issue like that.
-
>Certainly an easier time than defending that creep Jargon.
-
>Is there something going on here?
-
>Anon rolls his eyes, “And /I/ said don’t worry about it! Just blame it on “whimsical” old me.”
-
>”But—”
-
>”It’ll be /fine/. Just tell Jargon I insisted we spend the day giving you exposure therapy to my balls or something.”
-
>The room goes silent, only the sound of Cut’s dropped fork hitting the plate rings out.
-
>You know she’s thinking what you’re thinking.
-
“Or, now hear me out, instead of going to the market we could /actually/—”
-
>”Oh hush.”
-
-
>But unbeknownst to all of them, a grim warning lay in wait just outside their door.
-
>A warning Anon himself had written and would subsequently ignore.
-
>On the calendar, in big bold red letters was the message: “STALLIONS' BARGAIN DAY AT THE MARKET: DO NOT GO SHOPPING”.
-
-
-
>Something was very wrong.
-
>You, Anonymous, could feel it in your very bones.
-
>You aren’t sure /what/, considering everything seems to be going perfectly right now.
-
>Cut agreed to skip work, Pike agreed to go with the two of you, everything's coming up Anon!
-
>Yet, as the three of you traipse through the snow, you can’t help but feel there’s a certain electricity in the air.
-
>An electricity that’s only debatably real, seeing as Pike and Cut very obviously don’t feel it at all.
-
>They’re happily trotting along without a care in the world!
-
>Well, Pike at least has one care.
-
>She’s trying not to show it, but even with her jacket she’s obviously still feeling a little chilly.
-
>Ha! So much for superior Thestral genes, they pale in comparison to your Unicorn might!
-
>You don’t even have a jacket on and you feel as comfortable as if it was a crisp spring morning!
-
>It's things like this that you hadn’t properly appreciated when you first got turned into a horse.
-
>Starting at Pike shivering though, you start to wonder...
-
>Do Unicorns ever donate their coats to thermally deficient tribes?
-
>Like locks for love, but for warmth?
-
>You suppose you wouldn’t mind rockin a short cut if it helped Pike out.
-
>Or maybe there’s such a thing as warming spells?
-
>Either way, all you can do right now is give her something to focus on other than the cold.
-
“So, about this extended vacation you’re taking.”
-
>She perks up, but the uneasy look that passes over her is as plain as day.
-
>You’d bet your life that has something to do with her early rising.
-
“Did you have anything specific planned? Cuz Cut’s right, we probably can’t pull this kind of stunt /too/ many more times before Jargon gets genuinely pissed.”
-
>Pike quickly looks between the two of you, before sighing.
-
>”No, not really. I just—”
-
>She hesitates, her wings shuffling uncomfortably.
-
>”—wanted to do some /things/, you know?”
-
>You resist the urge to mirthfully roll your eyes.
-
>In your very unprofessional opinion: the time for being cagey about this stuff has passed.
-
“Things like...?”
-
>”Things like... the things I never really got to when I was a filly.”
-
>She looks out into the distance, a wistful smile tugging at the edges of her lips.
-
>”You know... domestic stuff. The arts, all those things I’ve been too scared to enjoy.”
-
>She spreads her wings wide, pantomiming some foreign motion for you with the claws on the ends.
-
>It almost reminds you of knitting?
-
>”And then I’d... just see where that takes me I guess.”
-
>It doesn’t take a genius to read between those lines: she doesn’t know.
-
>She’s flying blind as a bat, and in a way that has you more than a little worried.
-
>The concept of taking some time off of your career to find yourself isn’t foreign to you, it's just that in your experience that usually involves traveling or a similar major change.
-
>Not just sitting cooped up, alone in your apartment.
-
>Plus, just the very idea of Pike taking a sabbatical from being a guard honestly has you a little freaked out.
-
>It goes without saying that she loves being a guard. /Love/ loves it.
-
>You’d go so far as to call her a bit of a workaholic!
-
>So this idea of her taking an extended break to just... hang around the house and cook?
-
>VERY unlike her. Distressingly unlike her even.
-
>Even with your breakthrough moment yesterday, something is still eating her.
-
>You’d bet your horn on that.
-
>And you’re going to do everything in your power to soothe those anxieties God damn it!
-
>You’d already been planning to find some excuse to keep the three of you together, and ironically the breakfast debacle provided both that excuse and more evidence to its necessity.
-
>You're going to give Pike a nice, relaxing day out if it's the last thing you do.
-
-
-
>”Well this is uh... a little eerie.”
-
>You, Nocturnal Pike, had to agree.
-
>Honestly, your feelings on Canterlot’s main market have always been a little mixed.
-
>A labyrinth of stalls and shops, laid out in a way that had probably only made sense to ponies back during the unification era.
-
>When it got busy it could be a real cluster, and the constant calls to respond to incidents out there only reinforced that idea.
-
>But compared to now? You’d almost prefer it that way.
-
>The place was a ghost town.
-
>Every stall and shop was set up and ready to do business, but...
-
>”Where is everypony?” Cut finished the thought for you.
-
>”Did we get here too early?” Anon asked. “I thought places like this opened at the crack of dawn.”
-
>That thought brought a bit of a smile to your face.
-
>The universal Thestral experience is worrying about getting to a place before it /closes/, so you suppose getting to a place before it opens is a nice change of pace.
-
>Cut’s brow knits, “I... don’t think it's a holiday today? Hearth’s Warming isn’t for another few weeks at least.”
-
>Anon paces in a small circle, searching all around the market instead of actually looking at either of you. “Could be one of those random national holidays. We had those all the time back home, like /President’s day/.”
-
>You chuckle, remembering the conversation when Anon had attempted to explain the finer points of his “democracy” to Cut and yourself.
-
>A holiday for something as ephemeral as a president? Ludicrous!
-
>Pony national holidays are reserved for the eternal, divine princesses.
-
>Something WORTH celebrating.
-
>That’s also not being celebrated today. You’re a public employee, you’ve had those dates memorized for years!
-
>Today’s just another day like any other.
-
>Or at least, that’s what you thought until the first shopkeeper showed up.
-
>She moved with the trudging steps of somepony who desperately didn’t want to be there, and her eyes were sunken in like she’d borne witness to countless horrors.
-
>She looked like somepony walking to her own grave.
-
>”Uh, Pike?” Cut asked, while fearfully eyeing the mare. “I-Is there something we should know about?”
-
>With the appearance of the first mare quickly came a dozen more, the whole market rapidly filling up with employees.
-
>All of them looked equally haggard, but what was most peculiar were the hoofful of them that had dressed up.
-
>Head to hoof, they’d taped pillows and other protective things all over their body.
-
>It almost reminded you of...
-
“...makeshift riot gear?” you finished out loud.
-
>You, Anon, and Cut all share a disquieted look.
-
>”We should go,” the three of you say simultaneously.
-
>But it was too late.
-
>Your only warning as you turned was a low rumble, and then, like a lightning strike, they were upon you.
-
>The stampede.
-
-
-
“A-Anon? P-P-Pike?” you, Cut N. Paste, try to call out.
-
>But the effort is wasted.
-
>All the noise your feeble voice makes is drowned out by the ocean of stallions that now surrounds you.
-
>You honestly don’t even know how it happened.
-
>One minute you were standing beside your herd, the next you were being /literally/ swept away by a tide of ponies.
-
>Now, you’re well and truly lost in the crowd.
-
>All around you, what feels like every stallion in the city has descended into an unrelenting shopping spree.
-
>Every public aisle is flying room only, and despite wishing for them every birthday since you were six, you don’t have wings.
-
>It makes you miss the creepy empty market, you didn’t know how good you had it.
-
>It's like a scene out of your nightmares...
-
>...or it would have been, a year ago.
-
>Sure, the noise is still a little—
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>”I CANNOT believe she said that to you!”
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>”By jove! And here I thought those fillystines destroyed all of these for being a ‘public health hazard’!”
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>”Excuse me, but does this come in mauve?”
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>—overwhelming, but you know yourself well.
-
>This has the hallmark of all the things that /should/ be giving you the mother of all panic attacks.
-
>Suddenly being trapped in a crowd of strange stallions, surrounded on all sides, even occasionally physically being pressed into...
-
>The familiar tightness in your chest is there, but it feels more distant than it would have before.
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>More manageable.
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>Almost like you can do this.
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>You... you can do this.
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>Holy buck you can do this!
-
>This time when you speak, your voice cuts through the crowd.
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“Anon? Pike? Where are you?”
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>And before you know it, your hooves are moving.
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>Now you’re cantering through the market as ponies move out of the way for /you/.
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>You don’t need to dodge through the crowd, constantly excusing yourself to an ocean that doesn’t even know you exist.
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>No. These ponies are seeing you, acknowledging you, and moving aside because you’ve got somewhere to be.
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>If anything, they’re asking /you/ to be excused.
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>A massive, goofy grin blooms on your face. This feels great!
-
>Moving through here would normally have taken hours, but you’ve already managed to pass through two whole aisles.
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>Hopefully Anon and Pike weren’t in either of them, because you were /definitely/ so caught up in the moment that you weren’t actually looking for them.
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>Coming to the dead center of the market’s square, you stop and take stock.
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>You should be able to see Anon’s head above the crowds, and Pike’s probably taken flight out of sheer annoyance at this point.
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>But even standing on the tips of your hooves, you can’t see them.
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>You were about to call out and continue searching, but then you spotted somepony unexpected.
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>Somepony you wouldn’t have noticed, if not for the many years you spent learning to watch out for her when you were young.
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>Slipping in between the crowds, ducking and diving between the stallions, was your sister: Cloak N. Dagger.
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“Cloak...” you growl, your mood turning on a dime.
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>You hadn’t seen your sister since the party.
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>The party she spent looting your herd’s underwear drawer for a piece of sex wear to drag out in front of everypony.
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>Your coworkers, Pike’s coworkers...
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>It nearly gave poor Pike a panic attack; it would’ve /ruined/ her reputation!
-
[spoiler]>It probably would’ve ruined your and Anon’s reputations too, if you’d had reputations to ruin.[/spoiler]
-
>And now she’s here, stalking the market?
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>Most ponies would have assumed that was just a coincidence, but you know better.
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>You know Cloak.
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“CLOAK.”
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>She practically leaps into the air upon being called out.
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>Her wide eyes meet your narrowed ones, and for a moment you think she’s about to split.
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>But she doesn’t. She waits there patiently until you’ve finished stomping up to her.
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>All the while shrinking back with every step you take.
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>”Hey... sis,” she says.
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>Your anger explodes.
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“DON’T you ‘Hey sis’ ME! WHAT were you—”
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>You stop, suddenly remembering where you are.
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>If there was a metaphorical heart of Canterlot’s gossip scene: this would be it.
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>A scant few stallions have /already/ stopped dead in their tracks to watch you like hawks.
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>Screaming your sister’s head off here would just ensure everypony in the city knows Pike’s business by the end of the day.
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>You’d be no better than her at that point, buuuut you don’t want to let her off the hook either.
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>It seems a compromise is in order.
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>Mirroring your mother from days long gone, you leap at Cloak, biting down on her ear.
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>Cloak is caught utterly off guard, and shrieks as you start dragging her away.
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>She doesn’t even fight back, allowing you to lead her through the overstuffed corridors of the market until you find the perfect place.
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>An alley behind two of the shops at the market’s edge.
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>Pulling her in you finally let her go.
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>”What the buck was that for!?” she immediately cries, bitten ear flicking in annoyance.
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“What was tha— you know what that was for!” you harshly whisper, still not wanting to take any chances.
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>Cloak swallows, suddenly looking as sheepish as when you’d just walked up.
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>This could easily be the maddest she’s ever seen you.
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>She opens her mouth, but when nothing immediately comes out, you press on.
-
“YOU were the one who told everypony to come to our apartment, weren’t you? And then that stunt you pulled. Were you trying to humiliate me? Humiliate Anon? Humiliate PIKE? Huh!?”
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>For the first time in your life, you think you see actual hurt on Cloak’s face.
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>”What? N-No! Sis of course not! I just... I wanted you to make some more friends. It was just meant to be a joke to break the ice.”
-
>Your blood boils.
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“A joke? You thought pulling out our /sex wear/ in front of Pike’s whole squad AND my coworkers would be FUNNY?”
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>She rubs one of her forelegs, unable to meet your eyes.
-
>”Well, yeah... We joke and brag about what we do with stallions all the time at work, and we both know the kind of mares Aunt Jargon hires. I... I didn’t think it would be any different. I thought she’d like showing that off...”
-
>Oh.
-
>Your anger, once burning white hot, flicks off like a light.
-
>She’d misread the situation, missed the important social context.
-
>Something you’ve done countless times before.
-
>What she did was still unacceptable of course, but suddenly you’re the one finding it much harder to maintain eye contact.
-
>”But now nopony’s seen or heard from Sarge since, and suddenly they announce she’s taking a sabbatical? I-I’m really worried I screwed something up sis. Learning everything about everypony was supposed to stop this from...”
-
>You can see it plain as day on her face, that familiar spiraling sensation.
-
>That feeling when you finally thought you all had it figured, but now it's tumbling away.
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>”...that’s why I’m here. I followed your herd, I /need/ to know what’s going on.”
-
>She couldn’t know that would happen, any rational pony would have assumed that the lingerie was Anon’s.
-
>Heck, you’d had your suspicions, but even /you’d/ always assumed that apron was meant for Anon too. Until yesterday, at least.
-
>All that was just her trying to look out for you, like when you were foals.
-
>In her own horrifically stupid way.
-
>”Do you know anything about what’s going on?” She asks with the ghost of a tear in her eye. “Please, I need to know.”
-
>Before she can say anything else, you leap in to hug her.
-
>At first she tries to jerk away, but when that fails against your Earth pony grip, she stays.
-
“Oh Cloak...” you say, all traces of anger gone.
-
>It is weird to say, but you’ve never felt a closer sisterly bond to the mare than at this moment.
-
>Pulling back, you wipe away a single actual tear as you look at her.
-
“Pike’s... going through something right now. Best you can do is just give her some space.”
-
>”But—”
-
>You shush her.
-
“She’ll tell you when /she’s/ ready. Trust me, digging into it will not help.”
-
>In fact, that’d probably just make it worse again.
-
>But, you don’t say that part out loud.
-
You give her a surprisingly, genuinely confident smile. “Just leave it to me, alright?”
-
>Cloak smiles, and for the first time in years it doesn’t look freaky.
-
>”Alright, little sis,” she says quietly. Then, abruptly chuckling, she continues, “Feels like this is usually the other way—”
-
>”I knew I recognized that voice! I had to search all over the market but I’ve FOUND you!”
-
>The sudden voice shocks you and Cloak alike.
-
>It's a stallion, but not Anon.
-
>You mind reels, reaching for what other stallion could possibly have been looking all over for you.
-
>You thought you recognized the voice, but it couldn’t possibly be...
-
>...Blueblood.
-
>He’s there, standing at the entrance to the alley, some weird device strapped to his foreleg.
-
>Grinning like a lunatic, his horn lights up, “I hope you’re prepared...”
-
>You feel the wind completely drop out from under your wings.
-
>The rapid shifts in mood have taken their toll, and you find yourself in a familiar state.
-
>Completely and utterly unable to process the social scene before you.
-
“Uhh, hey. We were uh, kind of having a moment here.”
-
>Turning away from the mad stallion, you intend to beseech your sister for help...
-
>...only to realize she’s vanished.
-
>You’d be lying if that didn’t peeve you a little bit, but that’s exactly what you should have expected from Cloak.
-
>Besides, that’s the closest thing you’ve gotten to an apology from her in /years/, so you’re willing to give her some grace.
-
>Blueblood smiles like a lunatic, “Well, it seems the moment has passed.”
-
>You blink, your mind still struggling to play catch up.
-
“What did you want again exactly?”
-
>He barely waits for you to finish before shouting, ”A rematch of course!”
-
>He follows up by tossing a box your way, “And don't even THINK about trying to use the excuse that you're unarmed! I've been carrying an exact replica of your deck for this exact occasion!”
-
>Deciding not to ponder the implications of that comment, you gingerly pull the box from the snow.
-
>Joy. The only deck he's seen you play with was that awful new expansion, so it’s probably—
-
>Your heart stops as you open the box.
-
>This is one of your /favorite/ decks.
-
>So much so that you didn't want to bring it to that tournament for fear of damaging it.
-
>You look back to Blueblood, wide eyed.
-
>His grin has somehow stretched even wider, and the thing on his leg has begun unfolding into some disk like dueling device.
-
>How the heck did he...?
-
>”Are you ready?” he asks.
-
>You take one more look at the cards in your hoof.
-
>Steeling your resolve, you turn to him and say:
-
“Nope. Absolutely not.”
-
>And take off in the other direction.
-
>”Hey WAIT!”
-
>You charge out the other end of the alley like your life depended on it, hoping to put as much distance between yourself and the mad stallion as possible.
-
>”Get back here!” He shouts as his voice begins to fade. “What about your honor!? What about...”
-
>And just like that, you slip into the crowd. Cloak would be proud.
-
>Now, on to a much more important matter: finding your herd.
by SQA-non
by SQA-non
by SQA-non
by SQA-non
by SQA-non