“Bye!” Pinkie said, leaning forward to steal a quick hug that Fluttershy happily returned.

“Goodbye, and thank you for inviting me,” Fluttershy replied, smiling and dipping her head. “I’ll see you two tomorrow?”

At Pinkie Pie’s side, Applejack nodded, and with that, Fluttershy trotted off to catch up to Rainbow Dash and the others. Pinkie waved one more time as she disappeared into the deepening dusk and the trees beyond.

Standing together with Applejack at the threshold of their home like this was a little weird, exchanging good-byes and see-you-laters with everypony one by one. Usually, ponies just left her parties whenever they felt like it. Goodbyes were for the last leavers, or if she caught somepony on their way out.

On the other hoof, she’d never before hosted a party quite like this. This particular day had a little less bouncing and dancing than most. Today had been a day of chatter, muted laughter, and a bare minimum of party games. It would do for now. She could always try to turn the music up a little next year. Right now, Pinkie was content to stand side by side with Applejack and thank their guests for attending her—no, for attending their party. She leaned on Applejack and let out a content sigh when she felt Applejack’s tail wrap around her own in response.

“It ain’t called a cake!” Applebloom said. “It’s called a wake.”

“I didn’t say it was called a cake, I said there was supposed to be cake!” Sweetie Belle said.

“Well, I didn’t see any cake,” Scootaloo said.

Pinkie Pie giggled at the trio of fillies, Applebloom giving a wave to her sister in passing. Applejack tilted her head to watch the departing Cutie Mark Crusaders with a minute frown crossing her face.

“There was cake?” Applejack asked.

Pinkie nodded. “Yep! There was!”

“When the hay was there cake? I didn’t see nothing but sandwiches and the pastries we brought.”

“There was cake until the first guests arrived and you went to answer the door and I went to eat the cake, duh!” Pinkie said. It was really quite obvious, and clearly Applejack agreed because she didn’t press the issue. She just did that little roll of the eyes and the sigh that she did whenever Pinkie was right but Applejack didn’t want to admit it—which was fine so long as it ended with a peck on her cheek. And it did.

“You could wait with that until we’ve left.”

Pinkie Pie grinned, both at Inkie’s words and at Applejack’s faint little blush. Applejack grabbed her hat and cleared her throat, nodding at Pinkie’s family. Inkie, Blinkie, mom and dad, they were all here for her. Pinkie felt a little clump build in her throat, but it wasn’t painful at all, more like a little chunk of taffy she hadn’t chewed properly. They were all here for her—for them—but more than that, they were here for Granny Pie.

“I suppose we have to make this trip next year too, huh?” Clyde said. The bearded stallion worked his mouth soundlessly even when he didn’t speak, and Pinkie knew he missed his pipe, but both she and Applejack had agreed their didn’t want any smoking in their home. It was strange how much more often ponies understood and respected things when you actually talked to them.

“That would be really, really super-sweet and nice,” Pinkie said. “You’re staying for another few days, right? Because we’d love to show you around town! The skating rink, the park, the other park with the bouncy castle—”

“And you gotta come visit the farm before you leave. Standin’ invitation, of course,” Applejack said.

“I’m sure we’ll have time,” Sue said, adjusting her glasses and offering a small smile at that. “We’d better get back to the hotel before they close up for the night, though. And you better come visit us more often, young lady.”

“Sure!” Pinkie said. “Maybe next time Applejack and I can bring some of our other friends?”

“As long as they’re not picky about where they sleep,” Clyde said, giving a little snort, but Pinkie saw it for what it was, saw the smile lurking. She’d have to ask Twilight if she wanted to come with, and Rarity, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash and Spike, too.

“Well, see you then. Sleep tight!” Inkie said, setting off a chorus of good-byes and good-nights while the Pies filed out through the door. Most of them, at least. Blinkie paused at the doorstep, hesitating, and Pinkie thought maybe she was about to say something really confusing like she always did. Instead, she looked past Pinkie to Applejack and smiled. Pinkie would barely call it a smirk, an unpracticed attempt at happy that rated two out of ten tops, but on Blinkie, it was huge. Without so much as a word on the matter, she too was gone, leaving Applejack and Pinkie Pie alone.

“Well. You might say that was a bit of a doozy,” Applejack said.

“I totally would say that,” Pinkie said, grinning. She turned around and rested her head on Applejack’s back, looking up and around at their home. The fall theme worked pretty well, with red and yellow balloons, fallen leaf-themed banners and all, and the guests’ appetites weren’t hurt by the fact that she couldn’t come up with more than twelve different pastries that were appropriate for the last weekend of fall before winter. In hindsight, that was a bit of a mixed success.

“No leftovers,” Pinkie sighed. “We didn’t plan this well enough.”

Applejack chuckled. “If you don’t mind me saying, I think the bar for planning was set pretty darn low when you insisted we invite people over here of all places. This is more a construction site than a house.” She grinned and craned her neck to look around the room as well, probably mostly to make a point on account of she herself having done most of the work so far. “Turned out well enough, though.”

Pinkie shrugged, peering up past the two support beams that were in place, past where the roof would be. With the sun gone, the stars were blinking into existence one by one. “It’s not like it’s gonna rain or snow. Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy would take care of that all whoosh—” she struck the air with a hoof. “—kapow! No more rain! Besides, it’s like a housewarming party. This is our place. I wanna use it!”

“I ain’t disagreeing with that,” Applejack said, slipping out from under Pinkie Pie to rest a forehoof against one of the three walls they’d raised. “All I’m saying is that the farmhouse and my room there, that’s our place too.” She grinned. “Judging by all the stuff of yours I keep finding everywhere, anyway. What the heck was that thing you stashed under my pillow yesterday?”

“Aw, I guess. We just couldn’t fit everypony in that tiny room! Not all of my family!”

Of course the farmhouse would be fine if they just invited Pinkie’s sisters and parents over, but that wasn’t at all what she had meant. All their friends, both their families, the Cakes and everypony else, all were family to her. Applejack didn’t protest, and Pinkie knew that was because she knew, too.

Pinkie Pie smiled at the whole mess all the guests had made. Empty platters, spilled punch and popped balloons, all were evidence of an evening well spent. A party in her gran’s memory. Family made everything easier, and now she knew how sharing something sad could make the burden so light you didn’t even notice it. Sharing sugar and happiness was easy and nice, but to let somepony else share in something that hurt, that had taken some work. Yet here they were, and all Pinkie Pie wanted to do was smile.

“What’re you thinkin’ bout now?” Applejack asked, setting about stacking the dirty plates atop one another.

“I wonder if Granny Pie is watching,” Pinkie said, hopping over to help out with the cleaning. “It was a great party, and we made so many ponies happy—and even when the party’s over, I got you!” She nuzzled Applejack and beamed. “That’s almost like a party, too, except this party isn’t over. I think Granny Pie would like that.”

Applejack smiled back and kissed her on the snout. “She sounds like the kind of pony to appreciate that. You wanna clean this all up tomorrow? I’m plum tuckered.”

“I would love to clean this up tomorrow!” Pinkie said, bouncing on the spot. “Hey, maybe we can fix the roof tomorrow? We should do that too. We should make a roof tomorrow, with hammers and planks and whatever else it is you make a roof with, okay?”

“Except we’re attendin’ the butterfly migration,” Applejack said. “We promised Fluttershy we’d go with her. Rainbow Dash might come with, too.”

“Aw. Well, we can’t miss that. What about the day after?”

“That’s first day of winter, Pinkie. We’ll probably have to pick this all up come spring unless we get Twilight to cast some fancy spell, and we ain’t in no rush.” Applejack chuckled and started walking towards the door. “Let’s head on over to the farm. I’m gonna tuck Apple Bloom in, and then we can head to yours if you don’t wanna sleep over.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Pinkie pouted, but it was a reflex of being denied more than anything—an expression that never touched her mood. As much as she liked the idea of finishing their own little house at the edge of Sweet Apple Acres right now, Applejack liked to take it slow, and that was just as fine. After all, Applejack didn’t complain much when Pinkie Pie had accidentally eaten one or two of the special cinnamon buns where she used sugar instead of flour and wanted to do something silly.

They could do their own things without losing themselves or each other, just like how gaining new family didn’t mean losing your old one, and that thought reminded Pinkie Pie of something she’d remembered and forgotten and then remembered again.

“Hey, do you wanna get married someday?” Pinkie asked. “I think getting married would be super sweet. Mr. and Mrs. Cake are married, you know. I asked them and they said that ponies who love each other lots and lots do that, and I do love you lots and lots!”

Applejack rolled her jaw tilting her head up as she thought, silent as they passed one, then two, then three apple trees. In the moonlight, her coat was dull and muted, but when she smiled back, her eyes sparkled in a way that made Pinkie’s heart beat twice as fast.

“Sure. That sounds like a good idea on account of me loving you, too.”

Pinkie trotted a little closer to Applejack so their flanks could touch as they walked, smiling as broad as she could. “Neat! When?”

Applejack chuckled. and leaned her head against Pinkie’s, walking in step with her. “Well I dunno, Pinkie. One of us’d have to propose. Ask all fancy-like. You’re supposed to go down on your knees and all that, and you’ll need an earring or a bracelet for each of us. Rarity’d have a fit otherwise, I reckon.”

“Oh. Maybe I’ll ask tomorrow then, if you’re free!”

"Tomorrow’s the butterfly migration,” Applejack said, rolling her eyes. “Heavens to betsy, sugarcube, I’m getting you a journal or somethin’ for Hearth’s Warming.”

“Shoot, right, hm. Well, the day after, then,” Pinkie said. She curled her tail around Applejack’s and nodded at herself.

“Might be I’ll say yes,” Applejack said. Close as they walked, Pinkie could feel more than see the spring in Applejack’s step.

“Great!” Pinkie said. “Wait, do I get down on my back knees, or is it with the forelegs?”

“I don’t reckon it matters. I’ll probably say yes either way,” Applejack said.

Author's Notes:

Hi! This is the part that I always look forward to writing, because only in writing these words do I truly feel done with this story. This despite having the last chapter written three weeks ago.

It’s probably also the part most readers skip, and I don’t blame you. Well, I don’t blame them. You’re reading, aren’t you? Thanks for that! You’re not obligated to read the author’s notes, but fact is, it means alot to me if you’ll read at least the first half. The part that’s about saying thanks.

Writing isn’t a solo affair. Maybe it is for some, but in wanting a second set of eyes on what I write—and then a third and a fourth—this became quite the production. Adding more and more people for feedback and opinions, I have a lot of people to thank. More than ever before, in fact.

Corma and Kits have been involved since the story’s inception. I don’t know how many times you’ve read this story, how many iterations you’ve given feedback on, but I know this: Without your input, this story would’ve never seen the light of day. If it did and if I published it, it would’ve been shit. Taken for Granite has been through more edits-to-length than any other story I’ve ever written, mostly because you two marvels alerted me to serious issues. The story’s gone from shit to still shit to passable to what it is now—as for what that exactly is, what the story is now, that’s up to the reader to say. I just know I’ve spent so much time trying to fix holes that you found, it’s actually making it harder for me to thank you. It feels like I’m thanking you for pain. I’m not, though. I’m thanking you for saving this story. For the results.

Featherprop, Kai, Still Waters and Somepony, too, have aided greatly. I came to a point where I’d edited myself blind on this story, and it was massively useful to be able to bring in new people to give fresh perspective. The first barn scene would’ve been far less than it currently is without Featherprop’s help, and that’s just one of many ways in which you helped.

Last, I want to thank Present Perfect for being the final set of fresh eyes. An ace in the hole. Thank you ever so much for your input, for coming along like a bulldozer at the last second and alerting me to issues that needed to be fixed. In short, thank you for being an asshole and tripping me on the finish line before moving the goal further down the road. Thank you also for the title. I am terribly embarrassed that I didn’t think of it first. A title that both fits so well and induces groans? Win!

And that brings us over to the second part where I talk a little bit about the writing process and okay, goodness, when I say it like that, this sounds terribly pretentious and contrived. I’m going to do it anyway, if only because it’s pretty much tradition at this point. Sorry about that.

Taken for Granite was an absolute ass and a pain and a pain in the ass to write. I am absolutely sick of this story now. I’ve never before had to hammer a story this much to beat it into shape, and I never want to do it again. I’ve lost entire days to staring at the document, willing it to make more sense. I’ve spent weeks in a state of near-depression over my failure to make this story good. Only now, and I mean now, this literal instant of writing, do I feel like I can let go.

I don’t think—or hope, at least—that it’s a bad story. Thanks to all the fine folk above, it’s become a story that I can be proud of. Happy with, definitively. I hope to re-read this some time in the future and perhaps even enjoy it, but there is such a thing as working too hard on something. For me, this was it. I don't regret it, I don't think it colours the story, but I know I look forward to writing "easier" things.

It’s almost by chance that I ended up writing ApplePie. When I finished my last story and tried to find my next project, I had two very ambitious ideas, and a host of smaller ones. After I’d spent a few weeks battling with one of these big plots, I put it down and told myself that I’d ice that particular idea and instead see if I could make ApplePie work. Among perhaps a dozen half-planned shipfics, ApplePie stood out as the more interesting one, and the other megaproject was simply too big.

Like so many of my stories, it began with the idea of a single scene. An image in my mind that wouldn’t go away. One of Pinkie Pie knocking on Applejack’s door in the middle of the night, and a discussion that led to a similarity, a shared memory neither of them really wanted. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to write it, because to me, it strayed uncomfortably close to sadness. Long time readers will know I don’t write sad. I don't touch it.

So I had to twist it to be more than that, more than a sadfic. I think I lost some of the potency of that scene in diluting it in other challenges, certainly, but I didn’t want to write a novel-length story around a single scene. That, and trying to make it upbeat using Pinkie Pie, but almost entirely from Applejack’s PoV, that was a challenge in and of itself.

As another piece of trivia, I hadn’t planned on including the Pie family until I got there. It's fast becoming another tradition of mine, to derail my own story last minute, though usually for the better. I was getting dangerously close to the train scene when I realized how incredibly samey (for lack of a better word) the story would be if it ended with a confession there. Other authors be as they may, I myself have written too many stories that conclude in such a manner, and I need a break from those. Thankfully, Pinkie Pie was more than happy to invite Applejack over, and I think that without that decision, I wouldn’t be half of fond of this story as I am.

That’s enough of me rambling, though. Thank you, presumably-gentle reader, for taking the time to read this story, and thank you again for reading the author’s notes. I don’t know what story comes next, but Applejack and Pinkie Pie can live happily ever after in this book at least. I've written so much Pinkie Pie lately, she deserves a rest, and I think Applejack can provide that.

If you’d like to tell me that you think this is a load of crap, that my story is bad and that I should feel bad, you can always throw me a mail over at [email protected] — and you can use the very same address if you’ve something nicer to say, too. I usually always reply to comments and mails!

Until next time,

-Cloudy Skies