Shimmerism didn't really have scripture per se, certainly not in the sense of a written work revered by every faction that worshiped Sunset. Some composed their own—indeed, many were still composing their own, to the point that one devoted young Baconist had gotten an icon of a three-ring binder—but the closest thing the religion as a whole had to holy writ was Sunset's vlog. Commandments were few and far between there, mostly the obvious bits like "Thou shalt not kill" and "Thou who canst shalt possess enough basic human empathy that thou shalt not need some deity to tell thee not to kill or steal or suchlike, not that I am one." The remainder where the less obvious things to avoid doing with magic, like time travel or listening to anything that whispered in dreams and wasn't the vice principal of a high school.

Sunset had no intention of composing anything more concrete than that. "Thou shalt not worship me" wasn't going to work, no matter how much she fantasized about it, and anything more intrusive would cross the line from constructive use of the religion that had formed around her to actually endorsing it. However, her autobiography wasn't meant as a holy text, just the story of the mare who'd broke and mended the world, told from her perspective.

It had taken a good six months for a majority of Shimmerist sects to accept that. Of course, Sunset had expected such a reaction, which meant she'd gotten that particular ball rolling before she'd written the first word of the rough draft.

Now, about a month after making sure the misguided hype train never left the station, Sunset checked in with her editor at a mutually appreciated coffee shop. "You said you had a few concerns?"

"I admit," said Rarity, looking at the manuscript over her red-framed detail-work glasses, "I was tempted to suggest slight tweaks to the less than flattering portions, but I suppose laying your faults bare was half the reason why you wanted to write the thing in the first place."

Sunset nodded. "A big part of it, yeah. That and to get the facts down before anyone went overboard with some big, ridiculous creation myth. No manifesting in a sunbeam, no forming the earth from the fundament, no Cosmic Egg. Just me."

Rarity smirked. "'Cosmic Egg'?"

"The latest attempt to reinterpret my cu— icon." Sunset shook her head. "That still trips me up sometimes."

"Very well then." Rarity huffed out a breath as she glanced at a different portion of the draft. "If I'm being entirely honest, I was also tempted to suggest a few tweaks to my own less flattering moments, but..."

"Applejack?"

"Applejack. It pays to have an editor for your editor." Rarity muttered inaudibly as she flipped to the early pages. "So, moving on to the suggestions we may actually want to act upon, the most notable issue for me has to be this one phrase you insist on using throughout, in good times and bad. I'm sure it makes sense to you, Sunset, but I honestly cannot make heads or tails of it."

"What is it?"

Rarity took off her glasses, the better to look Sunset in the eye. "That's just what I want to ask you, darling. What precisely are 'human noises'?"

Author's Notes:

Inspired by a chapter of Comma Typer's The Little Curiosities, which was in turn inspired by this anthology.

Also, every time you grunt or hum or otherwise make a nonverbal sound as part of a conversation? That's a human noise.