> The Portal’s a crucible for hearts too fierce to fade. Griffons, yaks, buffalo, merponies, kirin—they’ve all crossed my bar, chasing love or a shadow to slip into. Tucked on Ponyville’s edge, by one of Equestria’s two embassies, it was the first to fling its doors wide for humans when others sneered. Now it’s a legend, where a mare might carry a human’s foal—always a filly, pure pony. Human colts are plenty; pony colts, rarer than a phoenix’s song. These tales fill my bar with laughter, love, and new beginnings tonight.  
>  
> I’m Crimson Brew, earth pony, dark coat, gold mane, mixing drinks with a barbed quip and keener gaze. My collar’s telekinesis—human-made, bless their craft—swirls bottles like a dance. Months have passed since the portal hummed with returning men, and Equestria’s alive with reunited hearts. One pink mare’s here, glowing brighter than ever, her man at her side. Pinkie Pie, radiant, her Anon steady despite his scars, has a tale to crown this saga. I’m pouring a Honeydew—whisky, royal jelly, lemons—to toast their spark. Let’s hear the journey’s end, then her song.  
>  
> ---  
>  
> Crimson Brew here, basking in the glow. That ambassador’s law, tearing men aged nineteen to thirty-one from their mares, is dust—crushed by mares’ fire and princesses’ steel. Their boycott shattered noble houses—Blueblood, Silverhoof, Jet Set, bankrupt in months. Luna’s ancient law humbled traitor commanders, their pride ash in a public rite. Cadance’s heart, Celestia’s will, and a tide of pony love broke the ambassador’s lies. New laws, forged in starlight, shield every family, pony or human, daring any fool to betray the diarchy again. The portal’s alive now, men home, arms open for their mares.  
>  
> Pinkie’s been a whirlwind, her grin lighting El Portal for months, her Anon back and hers. He’s weathered, eyes heavy from Earth’s trials, but their love’s a beacon. Their tale’s one of fight, heart, and new life, and I’ll let her tell it. My smirk’s sharp—she’ll make it a party. Take it away, Pinkie!  
>  
> ---  
>  
> I’m Pinkie Pie, and my heart’s a super-duper party cannon! My gruñón’s home—my Anon, all worn and dusty, but mine! Months ago, he stepped through the portal, shoulders sagging, and I tackled him with the biggest hug ever. He’s tired, my grumpy goof, his hands rough from Earth’s toil, but his laugh’s still my favorite song. I wanted to wrap him in cupcakes and naps, and oh, the stories he shared, sprawled here in the bar, his chuckle warming my soul!  
>  
> Earth was hard, he said. Their leaders—cold as stone—pushed them into grueling work, patching broken cities near the border barrier. Long hours, aching bones, all ‘cause their world let its roots rot. Hundreds of thousands, my Anon and his brothers, they fought back. They slipped through loopholes, signing for the border city to dodge the worst. When some shirked, claiming aches too light to matter, leaving others to carry double, Anon laughed ‘til it hurt. “We stopped,” he said, “newcomers, locals, all of us. No work ‘til it’s shared fair—equal, save for those truly frail.”  
>  
> The strike shook their world. Cities stalled, rails silent, markets bare when they laid down their tools. Their leaders scrambled, their plans dust. My gruñón’s laugh made me giggle too—he said it showed what men like him could do. Now he’s here, and we’re whole. We keep coming to The Portal—for meals, for laughter, for nights like this. Tonight, I’m sipping orange juice and nibbling sour pickles. Yup, I’m two months pregnant! Our reunion was a spark, a fire, and now—bless Celestia—a foal’s growing, pony or human in spirit, a gift from my gruñón and me.  
>  
> I get it now, what Fluttershy and Rarity feel, their joy as mothers. This life inside me, it’s our love made real. “Pinkie, honey, you okay?” Anon asks, his voice soft. I nod, my smile not wild but warm, full of hope for what’s coming. Just remembering how we met, how he tripped into my heart. Our future’s bright, and I’m ready to party through it all!  
>  
> ---  
>  
> Crimson Brew here, wiping a tear from my cheek. Pinkie’s joy could outshine the sun, her foal a new tale for this bar. It’s been a wild ride, these stories of love and fight. I strike a coy pose, my grin wicked as ever. What’s next for The Portal, these hearts? You, my fine customers, will want to know. Come back soon to your place—this bar’s seen worse, and we’re still pouring. Raise a glass to Pinkie’s joy, to new life, and to the love that won.  
>  
> The end… for now.