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Stuck In The Middle With You

by CoffeeMinion

First published

Ask your doctor if CoffeeMinion's shorts anthology is right for you! Side-effects may include monster attacks, crises of conscience, and alien abduction. Seek immediate help if you experience temporal displacement, or feels lasting more than 4 hours.

Sometimes a shortfic stands on its own, a longfic ends sooner than I expected, or I have something to showcase from a group collab. While a couple of these are unfinished, they've all received some level of feedback or polish. Quick descriptions, most recent first:

Cover art of my OC, Nutmeg, by Bluegrass Brooke!

The Seduction of Princess Cadance - [Adventure] - Early 2015

The mare stirred as Big Gig climbed out of the bed. He paused and held his breath. She didn’t wake.

Gig turned his head and gave her a smile. His eyes wandered to her soft blonde mane, then followed it down as it caressed her perfect pink coat and flowed past three gem-shaped kisses of blue on her flank. Slivers of dawn light streamed through the room’s blinds and made the bedsheets glow.

He finished getting up and picked his way across the simple townhouse toward her stand mirror. His mane needed combing, but he felt compelled to turn back to give her another smile.

A shadow of doubt flickered across his mind. He was pretty sure she’d said her name was Sapphire Shine.

It got hard to remember their names after a while.

He turned back to her vanity and made sure his smile was still sterling. He angled his body around, checking his off-white coat; it was just a little mussed, but no more than it should be. He smiled as he glimpsed his cutie mark of two beamed musical notes, but he frowned as he caught a good look at his black mane. It was going to take some effort to get it slicked back the way he liked it.

He bumped something on her vanity. His eyes darted to the bed. Sapphire Shine stirred again. This time her blue eyes fluttered open.

“Hey there,” she said, smiling.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Gig said, feeling torn but betraying nothing. He knew he needed to get out of there, but she possessed a genuine, intoxicating beauty that went well beyond his usual.

“Oh, Celestia, I can’t believe I did this!” she said, laughing. “No, I swear, I never do this sort of thing.”

Gig tensed, but kept it out of his voice. “What, you mean going out to a club and falling head-over-hooves for a big, strong stallion with the sweetest singing voice you’ve ever heard?”

She laughed again. Her smile was coy, but inviting.

“What? Come on, it ain’t bragging if it’s true.”

She sat up on the bed and patted a spot next to her. “Come on, Crescendo.” Gig smiled at his “working” name. “Stay a while. I mean, who are you, really?”

“Whoa now,” he said, being playful. “Are you saying we should have an honest conversation?”

Sapphire Shine blushed a little. “Maybe it’d be nice after… you know?”

Gig smiled on instinct. For a moment he really thought about seeing how that would go. Part of him wondered if there could be something more real between the two of them. Of course, she’d have to get past certain issues that his job would present. And he had no way of knowing if she was for real, either.

He didn’t want to admit his fear of finding out.

So he began to sing.

The song was nothing special; it was just a little work-song that he’d picked up from one place or another. Ah, but did it ever make her smile. She closed her eyes and relaxed on the bed as she listened.

She kept her eyes closed after he finished. “Are you sure you’re just an Earth Pony?” she asked. “I swear, that voice is magic.”

Gig smiled, but only on the outside. This one really must not get around much. “Hey. You hungry? I was thinking I’d go grab a couple packets of hay.”

Her eyes opened. “Come right back?”

“You know it, sweetheart.”

Soon enough, Gig made his way down the stairs of her townhouse and out to the street. The sun was still rising, but Manehattan’s smile was far less welcoming than hers had been.

“Sapphire Shine,” he whispered. “What a dame.”

He took a few steps down the sidewalk, then paused and watched the alley next to her building.

Sure enough, one of the basement windows opened, and a teenage colt with a shaggy dark brown coat climbed out. His mane and tail were black, like Gig’s, though they were nowhere near as suave. The kid’s green eyes looked from side to side beneath his unicorn horn.

He closed the window behind him and started heading toward Gig. The only sound he made was a little jangle from his saddlebags.

“You took a while, ‘Crescendo’,” Teardrop said.

Gig flashed him a disarming grin, but Teardrop walked past, not even looking at him. He frowned, then hurried to catch up with the kid.

“Don’t be so moody,” Gig said. “That should’ve bought you all the time you need to make a big score.”

Teardrop shrugged. “I wouldn’t call a couple antique earrings and gold chains a ‘big score.’ Next time, try to pick a mark with better money than looks.”

“Come on, give her a break,” Gig said, feeling a weird urge to defend Sapphire Shine’s honor. “This is a nice dame that we just cleared out.”

Teardrop gave him a flat look.

“No, I tell ya, most of the dames that wake up before I slip away are nothing but trouble. She was nice, though. Real hospitable.”

“I thought we agreed… business only. No personal stuff,” Teardrop said.

Gig frowned. “All right, forget it. Look, I’m hungry. Are you hungry? Why don’t we fence this stuff and get something to eat.”

“I’m full,” Teardrop said.

Gig tried to think of something else to fill the silence, but eventually gave up.

Their shadows loomed large before them as they slunk down the sidewalk toward their usual place to sell what they stole.

Teardrop stared at Big Gig, watching the stallion munch through a tall plate of hay. Other patrons in the greasy diner moved to and fro, largely ignoring them.

Gig looked up and paused mid-bite. “What?”

Teardrop looked down at the solitary cup of black coffee in front of him. “Sorry, just… wondering how you can eat that stuff.”

Gig chuckled. “Says the pony who never eats.”

Teardrop’s frown intensified. “I do eat. I just don’t like being watched.”

Gig gave him a goofy smile, then shrugged and refocused on his hay. “Suit yourself, kid.”

Moments later, a figure sidled up next to them. “Need a fill-up, honey?” asked a cold, menacing voice.

Teardrop froze.

“Well, hello there, gorgeous,” Gig said, winking at the tall waitress. “I was gonna ask you the same thing!”

She laughed, but it was coarse and artificial. “Oh, you’re too much,” she said. Then she leaned-in toward Gig. “Say. I hear you boys are good with your hooves. And I hear you like big scores that pay big bits.”

“Well that depends on what you mean by ‘good with our hooves,’” Gig said, overplaying his charm.

She smiled a fake smile and pushed a folded-up napkin toward him. “Somepony wants to meet you. Details within. Don’t be late. Oh, and… bring your friend.”

Teardrop slowly turned his eyes to meet hers.

The size and body shape were all wrong, but the voice, and the eyes, were unmistakable.

“You need anything, sugar?” she asked him. For a moment she let the veneer of charm fall away. It was brief; Gig probably hadn’t noticed the difference. But Teardrop knew.

“Come on, kid. The lady asked a question!”

“Oh well, maybe next time,” she said, winking at Teardrop.

“Leaving so soon?” Gig asked. “Come on, stay a while. With that skirt you’ve got on, I can’t even see your cutie mark.”

“Next time I won’t be wearing it,” she said, remaining playful. “Until then…”

She disappeared behind Teardrop’s field of vision. He didn’t turn his head to follow.

“Well, well,” Gig said. “I must be hot stuff today! No sooner do I tear myself from one fine mare’s boudoir than I’m veritably dragged into another’s.”

Teardrop pressed his eyes shut in despair. “Is that all you see in her?”

A moment of silence fell.

“Come on, kid, I wasn’t born yesterday. She’s gotta work for one of the local wiseponies. You know how I said somepony would notice us eventually?”

“Does that mean we should skip town?”

Gig frowned. “When it’s over, yeah, we will. We oughtta do their job first, though. Just so they don’t feel disrespected.”

Teardrop ground his teeth.

“Alright, that’s it,” Gig said, pushing his plate away. “You look like death, and I don’t sleep good on the nights I’m working anyway. We’ve got some time before tonight... how about we hit a flophouse?”

Teardrop met his eyes. He wanted to throttle the earth pony and scream at him that he should run.

Seeing her again had drained him, though. And Gig’s mind seemed pretty well made up.

They awoke close to sundown and made their way out of the flophouse with little conversation. Big Gig was hungry again, and felt like another shot of hay. As usual, Teardrop abstained.

Gig worried about him, but it didn’t seem like he was going to share whatever was bugging him. There’d be a time and place to press for more, and Gig felt prepared to let it go for the moment.

He was far more curious to know what this meeting was going to be about.

They made their way out into the streets at the appointed hour and turned a corner that he normally wouldn’t, even during the day.

His instincts told him that something was watching them from the far end of the alley, but it was too dark to see much of anything.

“This looks like a perfect set-up,” Gig said.

“Come on, let’s…”

“No,” Gig said. “One job, then we’re outta here.”

Teardrop fell behind him silently as Gig worked his way down the alley.

He began to notice movement in front of him, and the telltale sound of quiet hooves both in front and behind.

Gig paused and let his eyes adjust. He frowned. This could be more than just a setup; it could be a takedown.

His eyes swiveled as he sized-up the situation. He didn’t like the look of the tall, shadowy figure moving in before them. He didn’t like the darkness and isolation of the alley, either. The nagging feeling that there were a decent number of goons lurking unseen near the mouth of the alley was just icing on the cake.

“Hello, Teardrop,” the figure said. “So nice to see you again.” It was a mare’s voice. Gig automatically began sizing her up, trying to see if he could work an angle toward charming her.

“Is this the one that’s been so on your mind?” the mare asked, turning her head slightly. He took the momentary impression that she might have a unicorn horn under her hood, and her tone of voice made it clear that she wasn’t going to fall for his charm.

“It is,” Teardrop answered. His voice sounded almost reverent.

The shadowy mare scoffed. “You really think that he can do it?”

“I… think he can” Teardrop said.

Gig arched an eyebrow but stayed silent. He still didn’t know what was going on, but his trepidation was increasing. For one thing, he’d never heard the kid speak this way toward anypony.

“The stallion with the voice that makes mares melt,” she said, sounding amused. “Sapphire Shine sends her regards.”

Gig’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t know my reputation would precede me,” he said, keeping his voice neutral.

“It isn’t hard to find a stallion with charm,” the mare said. “But I need a pony of sufficient skill for this job.”

Gig risked a glance toward the mouth of the alley. The shadows were shifting. He decided to go for broke.

He smiled at her as if she was rich and beautiful, and he began to sing.

What he chose was no mere working-song, or folk tune, or even something popular. Gig knew he was singing to stir the cold soul of a dangerous dame, so he chose a piece from an opera that’d been composed hundreds of years before. He poured his all into it, and the piece sailed along in a rousing baritone, before reaching a climactic high note. He held it as long as he dared, then cut it off. The sound echoed off the walls for several moments. Then it faded.

The mare stood silent, studying Gig. “Impressive,” she said. “I am not easily swayed.”

Gig kept his eyes on her as he took a bow. “So what’s the job?”

“I want you to romance Princess Cadace of the Crystal Empire,” she said, sounding amused. “And once you have her in your clutches, I want you to steal the Crystal Heart.”

Gig fought to maintain an air of confidence. What she was getting at was suicide. If Gig hadn’t been sure those shadows were moving closer, he might’ve walked away then and there.

Gig swallowed. “If I may,” he said, gesturing with a hoof. “Respectfully, your ladyship, I feel there might be certain… factors… that could limit our success.”

“Oh?”

“Well. This is, of course, an alicorn princess we’re talking about. A very happily married alicorn princess, by all accounts. You must understand, there is a certain… element of what I do that she, perhaps, would not be as inclined to partake of, given her… status.”

“Is that all?” the mare deadpanned.

“Well, and, of course, our Teardrop here would need to get his hooves on the most famous and well-guarded gem in all Equestria while I was… somehow… entertaining this… very married, very powerful princess…”

“Do not give up so easily,” she hissed.

Gig startled. “Easy? Baby, there ain’t nothin’ easy about this!” He took a brief glance at the shadows that were still closing in, and decided he was being too honest. “That’s not to say we couldn’t find a way, it’s just to make certain that we all understand the score.”

The figure ducked her head down and tossed a heavy bag of bits onto the ground. The way her cloak moved made Gig feel even surer that she was a unicorn.

He looked at the bag, and then at Teardrop. “Kid, is this for real?”

Teardrop shuddered, but nodded.

Gig frowned. “It’s a good thing that I’m a professional, otherwise I’d die to ask about your angle here.” He turned back to the shadowy mare. “Everypony in the Empire’s going to be on high alert as soon as we bag it. And how are we supposed to get rid of the prince long enough for me to work my magic on the princess?”

She laughed humorlessly. “I think the prince will find himself quite occupied. And somepony who can help with… extraction… will meet you there.”

“You’re asking us to put a lot of faith in that,” Gig said.

He couldn’t see her smile, but he could hear in her voice. “You’re smart enough to know that I’m not asking.”

She reached down and produced another bag. This one fell open as it landed next to the other, spilling bits that clinked as they scattered across the ground.

“I will, however, make it worth your while.”

Gig flicked an ear nervously. No amount of money would change the fact that the job was suicide. Of course, not taking it might just be faster suicide…

“Be on the midnight train to Baltimare,” she said. “Take the first connection.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gig said. He looked at Teardrop, then nodded toward the bits.

Teardrop took a few steps forward. Eventually his horn lit up. The first bag flew neatly into his saddlebags, and he began to gather the second bag’s bits together.

“Believe me when I say I want you to succeed,” the mare began. “But if you try to cheat me, I will use your living bodies to explore new vistas of torture such as you cannot possibly imagine.” She inclined her head toward Teardrop. “That goes double for you, darling.”

Teardrop’s horn lost its glow, and the half-collected bag of bits fell and burst on the ground.

The mare laughed. It was long, wicked, and chilling.

“Come on, boys,” she said to her unseen accompaniment, before turning and vanishing into the shadows.

Gig waited a few moments before moving to Teardrop’s side. He put a hoof on the colt’s trembling shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Teardrop nodded.

“Kid… you gotta tell me… do you know that crazy broad?”

Teardrop turned and met his eyes.

“Gig… that… was my mother.”

Author's Notes:

This was one of my earliest (and most embarrassingly-titled) story ideas after joining FimFiction. I started on this not long after publishing my first story. This was also my first story where I looked for pre-readers, eventually enlisting Curious Quill and OnionPie to take a look at this. I even asked the late, great Miranda Laufeyson (then Miranda Escalante) to draw some cover art for it, which was sadly lost when she closed her accounts, though I might still have a copy lurking somewhere. In short, at the time I started working on this, all signs pointed to this being my big "proper" debut.

So why'd it grind to a halt after 3 chapters?

First of all: Dat Title. I knew it would set expectations pretty high, and I let that get to me after a while. (And as a side note, no, of course the plan wouldn't have worked! Half the fun of a story like this is when the plan goes sideways, and the "heroes" have to fall back on their skills to get them out of peril. Besides, I couldn't do that to poor Cadance!)

Beyond that, this was a case where my skills at plotting a longer work in advance were found wanting. I learned some things in the attempt, including that I needed to develop those skills. Coming off this project, I decided to focus on shorter stuff, and to learn how to structure plots just at that level.

I don't regret that decision, but there's still a part of me that wants to go back to this someday.

The Inevitable Clopfic - [Drama] - NaNoWriMo 2015

Inky Quills touched a dark, shaggy hoof to his head. He leaned back, letting the hard wooden chair bite into his deep purple coat and folded wings. “C… could you just run that by me one more time?”

The light-blue, grey-moustachioed earth pony stallion threw a sheaf of manuscript down on his desk, jostling the small sign that read, Cold Shoulder - Print Submissions. “What, you want me to say it’s unsalable crap again? Because I’ll say it again—it’s unsalable crap!” He hoofed through a couple of its pages. “I mean, what’s this part at the end where the mare and stallion just sit side-by-side, staring at a lake together? For Celestia’s sake, give our readers something they can chew on!”

“It’s symbolic,” Inky Quills said, brushing a strand of mane out of his eyes. “Not all relationships turn out the way you think they will. Even true love sometimes fades…”

Cold Shoulder barked a laugh. “See, and that’s why I’m rejecting this, Quills. I don’t care if you and some foreleg-slitting emo teens think ‘depth’ and ‘nuance’ are interesting; I’m here to do exactly one thing, and that’s sell stories.”

Inky pursed his lips. “First, I feel like that’s a gross mis-characterization of an untapped demographic that would flock to stories speaking to their issues…” He paused, noticing Cold Shoulder’s eyes had glazed. He cleared his throat. “...But more to the point, I think it’s in both my interest and yours to publish stories that are different. You know; things that can stand out in a competitive print market?”

Cold Shoulder rolled his chair back away from the desk, shaking his head. He stood and walked to a nearby window. “This is a time of change, Quills. Equestria’s seeing more magical disturbances than it has in living memory, and it’s got more princesses running around than anypony knows what to do with. You heard about the new one that was just born in the Crystal Empire, right?”

Inky nodded. “Yes, but I don’t…”

Cold Shoulder glared at him. “My point is that Equestria’s got more than enough ‘new’ and ‘different’ going on right now. Ponies turn to fiction for—” he made a gesture with his forehoof “—relaxation. To escape from everything that’s going on out there. The only ‘new’ and ‘different’ that they want right now are just new variations on the things that they already like.”

Inky frowned. “And that is…?”

“Clop!” Cold Shoulder beamed, and started walking around the desk toward where Inky was sitting. “Kid, each time you come into this office, I keep having to think of new way to explain this to you: Ponies read clop.” He stopped next to Inky and put a hoof on his shoulder. “They want it. They buy it. Every author writes it, at least every so often. This isn’t complicated... though I get the sense that I have lost you once again with this.”

Inky looked at Cold Shoulder’s hoof with suspicion. “Well, I don’t read clop.”

Cold Shoulder chuckled. “I don’t care if you do or don’t, kid; I just think you oughtta write it. I mean, you’ve got the chops to make it as a writer; no question about that. It’s just… ” He paused. “I like you, kid. I really do. It’s why I’ve bought a few things from you. But you gotta get your head out of the deep and moody stuff that you keep sending me, or I’m gonna start to think I’ve done you a disservice by supporting it, even as little as I have.”

Inky sighed. The paychecks were small, though he still felt lucky to have found an agent in Manehattan who was willing to give him the time of day. But they were really, really small, which sometimes led to other problems…

“I don’t know,” Inky said. “Let’s say I was… considering it. How would I even get started? I mean, again, it’s not something I read, or care about…”

Cold Shoulder snickered. “Come on. I mean, you’re married, right? Just start with some of what you’re up to with the missus!”

Inky blushed, but not for the reason Cold Shoulder might have expected. “Uh… I don’t know if anypony really wants to know that.” He straightened in his chair. “Or what she would think about it!”

Cold Shoulder turned away and started walking back toward his chair. “Well, I dunno, kid. Honestly, it’s up to you what you want to do about this. But at some point, don’t you feel like you should’ve been able to take the talent you clearly have and parlay it into a bigger audience? And doesn’t it mean something if you’re not willing to give up your pride, or whatever it is that’s holding you back, to write a thing that’s gonna help you make that leap?” He settled down into his chair, and pointed a hoof at Inky. “I guarantee you, if you do this, I will pay top-bit for it. This will be the story that gives your career the kick in the rump it so desperately needs.”

Inky furrowed his brow. “That’s a rather… lofty promise, don’t you think?”

Cold Shoulder shook his head. “Not at all, kid. I will stand by what I’ve said: You’ve got the talent; I’ve got the audience. If you want to get those two together, you know what you need to submit to me.”

Inky bit his lip. He really didn’t want to take the offer seriously. He feared what his wife might say if he did. And he didn’t want to take the time away from projects he was passionate about to work on something so... well, it was clop! He had his reasons for disliking it.

He looked up, meeting a glance from Cold Shoulder that came as close to plaintive as the older pony’s rough face would allow.

Inky sighed. “All right. I guess… I’ll think about it.”

Author's Notes:

If you haven't heard of NaNoWriMo, it's a delightful way to help motivate people to write 50,000 words of novel in the month of November. I've participated since 2007 and I highly recommend checking it out.

Of course, by the time NaNo 2015 rolled around, I'd been writing and enjoying MLP short stories for most of a year. So I decided to throw convention to the wind and write 50,000 words of short pony stories in November instead. While I didn't make it anywhere near 50K, I did write and release this little thing, so I think it worked out OK.

I also wrote this piece as a warm-up for that story. And by "warm-up," I mean "contemplating how far I felt comfortable pushing a Teen rating." If it saves time, I'll just self-identify as a prude now and be done with it. Nevertheless, I could tell I was sitting on an idea that needed to be written. My only regret is leaving Inky here with just a single chapter; I've got about half a plot-arc in mind for this, but I haven't had much luck developing it in the intervening year.

Inescapable - [Horror] [Tragedy] - December 2015 Writeoff ("Things Left Unsaid")

Introducing Marshy’s Marshmallows: The hit sensation that’s sweeping through Manehattan!

Wait… scratch that.

A gargantuan version of the Marshy’s Marshmallows mascot—a puffy white stallion whose mane and tail cascaded like marshmallow creme—was in the midst of sweeping through the streets of Manehattan, toppling buildings and tearing through suspension bridges as it carved a long path through the cowering city.

Everypony had their own theory about where it could have come from, how it could have gotten there, and why, almost two hours after its rampage had begun, the Princesses still had not yet intervened.

But as Babs Seed fought to extricate herself from the wrecked remains of brick and metal that had once been the hair salon she worked in, she found herself wondering only if the growing rumble in the background meant the thing was heading back toward her.

Her left rear leg was pinned between two twisted girders. The surface of her brownish-orange coat was unbroken, but she couldn’t be sure about the bones within; the leg had gone completely numb.

Babs glanced out at the ruined street and wiped thick dust from her eyes. No sign of Marshy yet…

A brief tremor bounced her against the ground. She gave a pained yelp as her bottom landed on some shards from the salon’s window.

A subtle motion on the other side of the street drew her eyes. Babs brushed her dark-pink mane aside and focused on the remnants of a dressmaker’s ground-floor window, where she spotted a pale-cream-colored head with a white and light-blue striped mane moving from side to side.

A pair of large, light-colored eyes met hers. The mare raised a hoof and gave a quick wave.

“Coco,” Babs said, recognizing her and waving back. Another tremor made her shudder, and reminded her she should keep quiet. “Get out of here, I think Marshy’s coming back,” she mouthed.

The whole street rumbled yet again. Coco Pommel broke eye-contact for a moment, looking higher and past Babs’ building. Babs followed her gaze, looking behind, but seeing little save for the building’s ruined interior. She turned back to Coco and shrugged. “What is it,” she whispered.

Coco raised her head for a moment and mouthed something back. Babs frowned; she didn’t understand.

There was another rumble; this one made the whole street shake. Fallen bricks bounced momentarily, and dust rained-down from shattered upper floors. Babs coughed, and tried to wave the dust away, before looking back at Coco.

Only, she wasn’t still there in the window. Babs blinked, scanning the storefront to see if she’d moved.

There was a sound of something heavy bearing-down on the walls of Babs’ building. Bricks ground under the weight; some cracking, others being crushed to powder.

Babs swallowed, and turned her head to look behind her.

Marshy’s bulbous figure stared down at her through a great rift in the building.

She began to scream as Marshy raised a massive hoof and hammered it toward her.

Author's Notes:

This story was an entry in the December 2015 Writeoff, Things Left Unsaid. I wanted to try a very literal interpretation of the prompt, which was a neat experiment; but I think the downer ending was too much to ask the audience to accept, especially when contrasted with the bit of humor in the beginning and the implied humor of the antagonist.

For those upset with the ending, though, please note that it doesn't confirm that she's dead; maybe the last hit broke her free and she managed to hide somewhere else?

Snakes on a Train - [Thriller] [Comedy] - February 2016 Writeoff ("The End of the Line")

Daring Do gave one last push against the train-car door, straining as hard as she could, trying not to focus on the dusty ground rushing past her on all sides. She tried doubly hard not to think of how much more convenient it would be if the rest of the passengers were pegasi, too.

The door squealed on its broken hinges, but it opened far enough for her to squeeze through. “Come on!” she roared back at the wide-eyed group of young earth ponies behind her. They dutifully began to trot across the coupling and into the empty passenger car as quickly as they dared. Interspersed with the youngsters were their hoof-ful of adult chaperones, and a smattering of other incidental passengers; again, all earth ponies.

Daring Do frowned as she watched one of them, the mare with a pale yellow coat and pink-and-blue hair, step across the coupling. She moved with a grace that seemed practiced, and she appeared calmer than the others, despite the circumstances.

“All right, keep going,” Daring Do said to those still crossing. Only a few colts and a grey-maned chaperone were left. She waved them in, then threw her shoulder against the door, trying to get it closed before—

A shape shot past her; leg-long and serpentine. She recoiled on instinct, even before hearing the scream; but then, fearing that others would follow, she redoubled her efforts to get the door closed again. The door squealed even louder, but eventually yielded.

She turned, drew her short belt-knife, and watched two of the adults flail uselessly at the thrashing hooves of the grey chaperone, who was on his back and struggling with… it.

A moment’s hesitation brought the sight of a powerful blue snake with a pink head and yellow teeth that were plunged into the barrel of the unfortunate chaperone. Daring Do leapt toward the pair, and slashed at the snake’s long body. It brought its head around to face her, hissing as it lashed out with its three whip-like tongues. She dodged, then gripped its body with her free hoof as she slammed the knife into it.

The snake went limp and fell to the ground. Daring Do shook with adrenaline as she kept her eyes fixed upon its unmoving form.

“A Tatzlwurm,” she said at length. “Does anypony know why there would be a bunch of immature—” She looked up; all eyes were focused on the yellow pony, who was bending over the grey chaperone and applying a field dressing with uncanny steadiness.

Daring Do snarled, stalked up to the pony, gripped her withers, and whirled her around. “You’re the only one who doesn’t seem surprised by the attack; the only one who’s kept their horse-apples together in the face of all this. And, headmaster?”

“Yes?” asked a tall white pony.

“This one isn’t with your school group, right?”

“That is correct, Ms. Do.”

Daring Do pointed her knife at the yellow pony. “I want answers, now. Good ones.”

The pony sighed, then turned a flat look on her. “Why don’t I keep this stallion from bleeding out, then we’ll talk.”

Daring Do frowned, but nodded.

Minutes later, the yellow mare stood up, approached Daring Do, and brought her head close. “My name is Special Agent Sweetie Drops, from the Royal Bureau of Monster Affairs,” she whispered. “My mission was to transport a crate of immature Tatzlwurms in secret, on civilian transportation, to Canterlot for further study.”

“You’re what?!”

Sweetie Drops’ eyes narrowed. “I didn’t know somepony would exploit the situation to try killing you! The sabotaged engine compartment, the welded-together doors and couplings… even the mostly earth pony passenger complement! It’s a perfect trap.”

Daring Do laughed in spite of the situation. “Caballeron isn’t known to spare expenses. I guess the question is whether or not Celestia did. You packin’ any firepower?”

Sweetie Drops raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got a few explosives.”

The pegasus nodded. “Well, this is everypony who was in the cars between us and the engine. We blow the coupling right in front of us, and the rest of the train will just coast to a halt.”

The agent hesitated. “We’ll still have to recapture the Tatzlwurms, but at least everypony else will be safe.”

“All right then!” Daring Do shouted back at the beleaguered passengers. “I don’t know about anypony else, but I’ve had enough of these motherbucking snakes on this motherbucking train! Everypony take cover at the back of the car; we’re gonna blow this coupling!”

Author's Notes:

This story started out as an entry in the February 2016 Writeoff, The End of the Line.

Well, that's not quite true; this story started as a series of brainstorming sessions in Summer 2015 as I tried to figure out a way to do "Snakes on a Plane" in Equestria, which I thought would be funny if I could pull it off. I decided to use this vaguely train-themed Writeoff as an opportunity to start over and take one last shot at the concept with Daring Do and Sweetie Drops, which I thought might be the most straightforward way to execute it. Unfortunately, I don't think this super-short format was the best way to tackle it; and as much as it begs to have the one line in there, I think it ended up feeling more out-of-place than anything.

This remains an idea I'd love to see finished someday, though I'll be darned if I know when or how...

Tequila Sunrise - [Human] [Sci-Fi] - June 2016 Writeoff ("The Killing Machine")

Jane awoke with the dawn, feeling refreshed, which was damn unnerving given that she’d purposely stayed up all night trying to keep that from happening again.

She sat up in her too-perfect bedsheets, batted silver-streaked brown hair out of her eyes, and did a quick check of her bedroom. Gentle sunlight filtered through a large bay window with gauzy drapes at one end of the room, despite the fact that she remembered smashing the window not five minutes before. The polished wood desk she’d toppled just before that was back in its place against one of the room’s shiny white walls, complete with the sparse collection of books on a small inset shelf.

Jane collapsed back upon the soft mattress, stifling a scream.

By midday, hunger prodded her to change from the sterile blue pajamas into the closet’s only other garment: a plain, full-length green dress. She did so only because she’d learned that the dining room wouldn’t have food unless she changed into it… in the bedroom… with the door closed.

“Stupid dress,” she muttered, trying to get it to sit properly across her bust. It felt like it had been tailored for someone younger, or at least perkier.

She passed through the dining room quickly, pausing only to grab the inevitable small grey food-disc on the solitary plate set at the table, as well as the small white pill set next to the plate.

“They can't cook for crap but they can get the name-brand meds,” she scoffed, downing her daily antidepressant.

Thoughts of who “they” might be pinwheeled in her head as she stepped out her front door, nibbling on the flavorless food-disc. The lush, humid greenery of the rest of her prison assaulted her senses. Small but colorful birds darted from tree to tree, frustrated in their pursuit of a larger area in which to roam. Sunlight—or a clever imitation—warmed the biome-in-a-bottle from above. The biome was small enough that she could see across the whole thing from her tiny house’s front porch. It was circular, and not much larger than a cricket field, and its walls were made of glass.

On the other side of the glass was grey, pockmarked stone on all sides, save for a pair of other biomes connected to hers toward what she reckoned were the north and south.

She looked north, but saw no one at the pair of heavy metal doors that separated her biome from that one. She looked south, toward the darker, more arid biome…

Vex was there, as usual, sitting naked and cross-legged on the other side of the doors, waiting for her.

His shape was similar to that of a human male, but the broad, flattened head atop his stubby neck bore a fearsome set of almost crocodilian jaws. His eyes were dark slits, and his body was covered in shiny brownish chitin. Even at this distance, she had to hold up a hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight that reflected off his scaly body.

Jane shook her head, took another glance north, and headed south toward him.

A field of freshly tilled dirt cooled her bare feet as she worked her way south. She frowned at the nearby rack full of gardening equipment and the box containing small containers of seeds. She didn’t know how to raise a garden, and the books inside her house didn’t give any clues.

Vex sat motionless, watching her approach.

Jane saw that he’d opened the door on his side again. “Typical,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You just expect I’m going to open my door for you because you want in. Can't you even try to persuade me?”

She knew from experience that hearing through the doors wasn't a problem, and that there didn’t seem to be a language barrier… though she didn’t know how that could be the case, since he clearly wasn’t human. But he neither moved nor answered; he just kept staring at her.

“Fine, be that way,” she said.

Vex cocked his head slightly. “I have stated you have nothing to fear from me,” he said, his voice guttural and clipped. “You are not what I consider worthy prey.”

“That’s not persuasion, Vex.”

He continued staring. “As I have said, I wish to hunt your birds. I have not tasted flesh since butchering the last of the small animals I found in my enclosure.”

Jane’s pulse quickened. “Did you ever think you were supposed to breed them? Instead of just…?”

“I hunt. I know little about animal husbandry.”

Jane nodded, and turned away from him.

“You are troubled,” he said.

“Y… yes.”

“You wish to speak more of your life before this place?”

“No,” she said, not looking back at him. She took a deep breath. “I just… wonder why we’re here. The three of us. Or, where ‘here’ is.”

Vex paused. “The prey is elusive. Its nature, unclear.”

Jane looked back at him. “And… you don’t think there’s anything that could help us through the doors on the other side of your biome?”

Vex cocked his head the other way. “You may open the door and come see for yourself.”

She pressed her eyes shut.

“Your fear of me is flattering,” Vex said. “But I do not understand why you fear the other one as well. From your words, he does not sound like worthy prey, either.”

Jane shook her head. “Thanks, Vex; always a pleasure.”

She set off through the vegetation separating the southern doors from the northern ones. Long grass swayed in a gentle breeze, and small insects buzzed around her head, but none of it broke through her mental funk.

The northern biome wasn’t far. Jane stopped a few yards from the metal doors, looking over at the similarly verdant scene on the other side. She frowned as she noticed that the door on that side was open as well, though the biome’s resident wasn’t in sight.

Jane sat in the cool grass, losing herself in thought as she waited for him.

Minutes later, she heard a cheerful voice call out: “Oh, hi there, Jane!”

Jane looked up, watching him step out from behind a stand of trees. Where Vex was vaguely humanoid, this one bore a closer resemblance to some kind of horse; he was quadrupedal and covered in short, off-white hair, with a long brown tail, and a brown mane situated behind his elongated face and his too-big eyes and tall ears. And then there was what Jane found to be the really weird thing about him: two patches of hair near each of his hindquarters grew green, resembling the image of a spidery, spiky plant.

She gave him a halfhearted wave as she watched his smooth gait with a mix of curiosity and revulsion. “Hey, Agave.”

Agave’s smile widened. “Do you want to come in? I finally got my distillery going. You’ve got to try some of my first batch!” He veritably danced back and forth on all four legs.

Jane looked down at the grass. “Um… no thanks, Agave. I wouldn’t want to… bring down your good time over there.”

He stopped dancing. “Oh, believe me, it’s not all fun and games. It’s hard work growing and harvesting things, and it’s been even harder cobbling the distillery together!” He sighed. “I just wish I had some actual agave plants over here to work with. And… well, someone to share it with.”

Jane looked up, seeing through the glass that he was pressed close against her metal door. She looked down again, taking a deep breath.

“Jane?” Agave said, sounding uncertain.

“Yeah, Agave?”

“You seem… quiet today.” He paused. “I mean, not that we usually talk very much, but I’m picking up a really, really quiet sort of… vibe from you.”

She sucked in a deep breath, then blew it all out at once. “I can’t live like this, Agave. I can’t stay cooped up in here anymore.”

He grinned. “Why, that’s the best news that I could’ve asked for! Why don’t you come in, and I can show you what I’ve been working on?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said. “I’ve had some… trouble… with some things.”

“Oh,” Agave said, taking a step back. “What do you mean?”

“Honestly, a drink sounds really good right now. But if I just have one… I won’t just have one. It’s really… hard for me to stop there.”

“Oh.” He sat down on his rump, and the expression on his large, otherwise happy-looking face became uncomfortable. “I had an uncle like that, once. It used to make him angry, and of course he was a unicorn, so…”

Jane scoffed. “A unicorn?”

Agave nodded. “Sure. I mean, most of my family is Earth Ponies, but we have a little magic in the blood.” He laughed, and their eyes met, and he hunched his head, looking sheepish. “That’s actually… kind of the joke about our family trade. You know, because it makes ponies feel… happy, or at least… different.”

Jane buried her face in her hands. “I almost don’t care how crazy that sounds. I’m tired of being stuck in here. I just want out!”

Agave straightened. “It’s okay if you don't want to come over. I guess it’d just be nice to have some company. It’s not like I can really talk to my other neighbor…”

Jane blinked. “I didn't know you had another neighbor, too.”

His muzzle twisted into a frown. “Kind of. I don’t know. There’s something… wrong with that one.”

“He can’t be too much worse than mine,” Jane said. “Sometimes, honestly, I wonder if Vex would kill and eat me if I let him in.”

Agave’s eyes went incredibly wide, and his pupils shrunk to pinpricks. “That’s horrible!”

“Yeah, he’s a real piece of work.” She sighed. “Still, I’d almost rather face a quick death than a slow one.”

“I don’t see why you have to make that choice,” Agave said, “if all you need’s a change of scene… I would love to have you over!”

Jane’s arm trembled as she reached toward the door and turned its handle.

Author's Notes:

This story started out as an entry in the June 2016 Writeoff, The Killing Machine. I was strapped for ideas during the Writeoff, and a hail-Mary trawl through my idea list surfaced a terrible old concept for a HiE where the human causes humorous chaos in Equestria by introducing Our Little Ponies to hard liquor (specifically Tequila). I thought I could do something interesting with it by inverting the structure: Start the pony with the liquor, make the human have problems with that, and keep the tone serious.

Unfortunately, the setting was easier to come up with than a proper story arc, and what came of it was more like a first chapter than a complete story. I took a shot at developing that further, and asked MisterNick to provide some input in that vein, which guided the few edits I made from the Writeoff version.

Hell Awaits (original version) - [Drama] [Alternate Universe] - April 2017 Flashfic ("Getting Warmer")

Princess Celestia stood resting her hooves on the railing of her high balcony and watched as shadows from the setting sun rushed to overtake Canterlot. She didn't move as hoofsteps approached from behind and a pony cleared their throat.

“Princess,” said the hushed voice of her secretary, Raven. “You should get some rest. We must be up early for the Summer Sun Celebration.”

Celestia didn't turn. “Do you remember Sunset Shimmer?”

“...Indeed.”

“I know she was… troubled. But she had so much potential.”

“I know you’ve missed her.”

Celestia sighed. “So very much potential, Raven. The day ahead isn't one I’d hoped to face alone.”

“But Princess, you won't be. We’ll be together, in Ponyville.”

Celestia watched as the sun fell below the horizon. The stars nearest the mare-marked moon shone brightly.

“No,” she said. “Remain in Canterlot. If the sun is late in rising… have the mirror smashed. Immediately.”

Author's Notes:

This originally appeared in the April 2017 Flashfic contest, which had a limit of 150 words. It was conceived as a very short prequel to To Serve In Hell, my long-running thriller set in the Nightmareverse seen in the Season 5 finale. It was later expanded to become that story's actual prologue.

The Eye That Floats, Silent and Unblinking, in Petunia Paleo's Sandbox - [Random] [Comedy] - May 2017 Flashfic ("Laugh so you don't cry")

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!” shrieked an unseen mare.

Many ears perked at the sound, but only one pony sprang into action, dropping his groceries and dashing down an alley off Ponyville’s market street: The Doctor.

He rushed around the corner of a wooden privacy fence, spotting a small blue filly playing gleefully in her sandbox. A terrified mare stood at their nearby home’s back door.

A giant disembodied eyeball floated between them.

He cleared his throat. “Now, I thought we'd agreed we wouldn't just drop in on the material plane unannounced?”

The eyeball’s pupil seemed to flatten and undulate before reverting to normal.

“Ah. I… can't fault you for that.” The mare looked at him plaintively. “Her contact fell out during her last dimension-jump. Needs help finding it. Thought it landed somewhere over here.”

The filly giggled and tossed up a hoofful of sand.

The mare tittered humorlessly for a moment, then fainted.

Author's Notes:

This originally appeared in the May 2017 Flashfic contest, which had a limit of 150 words. It was written for Posh, who wrote this and gave me this idea (and later the one in the author's note here) after I wrote this.

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken - [Limestone Pie] - September 2017 Flashfic ("Before the Throne")

Limestone scowled at the skyful of dragons orbiting her family’s home, then frowned at the coterie of guardsponies advancing from the road. The stream of guards parted, revealing the huge figure of Princess Celestia walking beside a blue bipedal creature. Limestone guessed she was draconic, though much smaller than those flying overhead.

“My little pony,” Princess Celestia said, inclining her head.

The blue dragon growled. “You have received our notices. Relinquish the Lost Egg immediately, or Equestria will—”

“No,” Limestone said, feeling her pulse quicken. “In ages past, my family swore oaths to protect Holder’s Boulder.”

The dragon’s eyes narrowed. Celestia glanced at her, then refocused on Limestone. “Please… the oaths were to me. I release them. We have peace with the dragons now, and wish to maintain it.”

“No!” Limestone planted her hooves, took a huge breath, then pointed one hoof at them and bellowed: “Stay off Holder’s Boulder!”

Author's Notes:

Because Limestone Pie is best crankiest pone, that's why. :heart:

(source)

Like Nopony Else - [Sad] [Random] - May 2017 Writeoff (“Ignore It and It Will Go Away”)

Maud Pie looked up, mining pick still in mouth, as she noticed that the light falling on the vein of crystal she’d been excavating had dimmed. Reflexively, she gazed toward the rift in the ceiling of her new cavern home. A moment later, she winced, set the pick down, and took Boulder from his place nestled close to her heart.

“Yes Boulder, I know I don’t have an effective way of measuring its luminosity. …Yes, I’m aware that these findings may be significant.” She paused, turning her ears down as she felt all the reasons to continue her work despite the latening hour wash over her. “I know. But it’s time. You promised.”

No reply came. Maud interpreted this as tacit agreement.

She continued to hold him and set off on three legs toward a side passage that ran closer to Ponyville proper. It grew oppressively dark and quiet as she traversed its length. An early bend in the passage cut it off from much of the ambient light and sounds of water from the central cavern. She moved in silence, save for her own hooffalls… and for Boulder’s admonitions.

“We’ve been over this,” Maud said, her voice echoing. “This passage was the most practical to connect to the power grid. …Yes, I know it wasn’t strictly a ‘need.’” She flinched, feeling beset by all the reasons not to spend her time on something frivolous. “Boulder, my first love is for rocks. But I…” She forced her hooves to keep moving, rather than trying to explain herself; Boulder didn’t seem to be in a listening mood.

Maud counted the hoofsteps in the back of her mind; a necessity in the near-total darkness. She stopped when it was time, and groped to her right, finally feeling something cold and solid: a metal switch.

She threw it upward. Warm radiance blossomed from a series of canister lights mounted on the ceiling, illuminating a shoulder-high black amplifier set next to a stand holding an X-shaped black guitar with inset green paneling.

Maud set Boulder down on the amp, took hold of the guitar, and began hoofing at dials. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, fighting down guilt. What she’d told Boulder had been true, strictly speaking; the light had faded, even if was with late afternoon rather than early evening. And what she'd told her new friend Starlight when they discovered the cave hadalsobeen true; her scholarly knowledge about rocks had nothing to do with her skills or enjoyment of playing guitar.

At length, she pushed through the condemnation about deceiving those closest to her, fretted a power chord and strummed. An electric feeling surged in her as the chord echoed through the passage, loud enough even to block out the myriad reasons not to be playing. Maud worked her way through a progression of chords, fretting and strumming with increasing rapidity.

She turned a faint smile toward Boulder—

Another salvo of disapproval her. It brought with it the face of her advisor, admonishing her to eliminate unnecessary distractions on the path to her rocktorate; and of her parents, telling her to turn down the racket lest she disrupt the rock farm’s delicate soil and mineral balance; and of her sisters, cowering from the sound in Marble’s case, or railing against it in Limestone’s case.

Only Pinkie smiled at it.

Maud tried to focus on Pinkie as the others pressed down on her with judgment, but it was like clutching at a lone pink candle on a moonless night. Maud took a breath to try to steady herself, but then set the guitar back down on its stand and turned the whole setup off. She gazed at the silent but smugly triumphant Boulder.

“I’ll have to ask what kinds of music Starlight enjoys,” Maud said, picking Boulder up. Then she reared up on her hind legs, reaching toward the master power switch with her free hoof.

She pulled it, casting herself into darkness once again.

Author's Notes:

This story started with a truly amazing piece of art based on the S7 Rock Solid Friendship episode, which in turn came from an offhand joke that Maud makes about "shredding on guitar like nopony else:"

I contacted the artist right away and asked if I could do a story for it. This isn't the first time I've mixed Pie sisters with heavy metal, and I thought lightning might strike twice.

In this I thought it would be interesting to explore Maud’s anthropomorphization of Boulder, and of rocks in general. Consider the moment in Rock Solid Friendship where Pinkie visits her amid a near-death experience in Ghastly Gorge and asks if she's made any friends, and Maud says yes, then Pinkie asks if the friend is a rock—and Maud pauses for a beat, and then says yes again. It was a pretty dark moment, and I wanted to try doubling-down on that. Even though, by the end of the episode, Maud had established a friendship with Starlight.

Where this ran aground was in trying to absorb feedback that this Maud doesn't jive with her canon moments of doing standup and/or heckling Discord. I wasn’t quite sure how to fix that. Now of course Maud is happily “in like” with Mud Briar as of early S8, which makes it harder to get back into this mental view of her.

Still though, any chance to write something and put it out there is bound to be educational and fun. And if anyone has fantastic ideas for expanding this, let me know!

Starlight fixes “Spike At Your Service” with… Admonishment! (Shakespearicles' Starlight Fixes Everything project)

Author's Notes:

Starlight Fixes Everything is a group collab project led by Shakespearicles, and its tagline says it all:

Starlight Glimmer has gotten her hooves on Twilight Sparkle's Friendship Journal and she realizes that she could fix everything with time travel...

... So she does.

Starlight Fixes Everything

In Thirty Seconds or Less

( Or the pizza is free! )

Additional ground rules for the collab are that Starlight only has thirty seconds to "fix" the episode, and pizza should somehow be involved.

“Spike At Your Service” is, of course, MLP:FiM Episode #61 (S3 E9).

A gentle breeze from an open window carried the faint scent of cooking pizza all throughout Golden Oaks library, and for a moment displaced even its usual all-pervasive smells of pine sap and aging paper.

Nopony was there to enjoy it, though. A solitary lavender unicorn was technically present, but she’d already spent long hours with her muzzle pressed close to one particularly bewitching tome out of the dozen she’d set out to read, and her senses were engrossed. Her lips occasionally quirked upward as she absorbed line after line of effervescent prose. And the only scent that reached her was the weathered old tome’s earthy musk.

The pony—Twilight Sparkle—lit her horn and carefully turned a page with her magic.

Suddenly there was a huge *BANG!* from behind her. Twilight leapt up off her rump, shouting involuntarily and jerking her head about to see—

—she made a slight choking sound as she realized she’d kept her magical grip on the page she’d been turning, and had ripped it from the book in the process. “No,” Twilight croaked through a dry throat. “No, nononono, what have I done?!”

“You haven’t done anything yet!” said another purplish unicorn who was suddenly standing before her amid a scorched circle on the floor. Twilight recoiled with shock at the unexpected arrival, much less the evidence that they’d arrived via some kind of high-level spell. “Don’t start,” the pony said, raising a foreleg and then cursing at her watch. “Okay, twenty-five seconds left. Twilight—”

“I recognize you,” Twilight said, furrowing her brow. “You’re that… mare… who fixes things?”

“I said there’s no time!” The pony set her jaw and blew a strand of mane out of her eyes. “Twilight, what does Spike mean to you?”

“Spike…”

“Ugh!” The mare pressed a hoof to her eyes. “Come on, are we talking… brother? Son? Indentured servant?”

“Indentured…!” Twilight shook her head. “N…no, Spike is my friend, first and foremost!”

The mare nodded once. “Friend. Perfect. Okay, so what’s the best way to respond to a friend who comes to you in confidence about something big that they’re trying to work through?”

Twilight lowered the paper. “What do you mean?”

“Twilight…” The pony checked her watch again, and bit her lip. “You listen, Twilight. You give him your undivided attention for at least the minute or two it takes to figure out what kind of conversation you’re dealing with.”

“Well of course I would.” Twilight frowned deeply. “I know that’s how friends treat each other.”

“You say that, but I’m pretty sure—” The mare’s watch started ringing, and she gritted her teeth. “Just remember! Oh, and if he starts going on about some kind of ‘dragon code,’ ask him if he’s read the newer commentaries by Ember the Younger about—”

She vanished in a burst of white light and a sound like clocks exploding. In her place were fresh scorch-marks on the wood floor.

A solitary pizza box lay in their center.

As Twilight worked her jaw in a halting effort to think of what to say, she heard a soft rap at the library’s door. A moment later, its knob turned, and Spike poked his head in.

“Hey, Twilight. Got a minute to talk?”

Twilight glanced back at the book, then down at the page she’d inadvertently ripped out of it, before greeting her friend with a smile.

“Of course, Spike; I’ve always got time for my number one assistant… and my oldest friend. Want some pizza?”

Starlight fixes “Rarity Takes Manehattan” with… Violence! (Shakespearicles' Starlight Fixes Everything project)

Author's Notes:

Starlight Fixes Everything is a group collab project led by Shakespearicles, and its tagline says it all:

Starlight Glimmer has gotten her hooves on Twilight Sparkle's Friendship Journal and she realizes that she could fix everything with time travel...

... So she does.

Starlight Fixes Everything

In Thirty Seconds or Less

( Or the pizza is free! )

Additional ground rules for the collab are that Starlight only has thirty seconds to "fix" the episode, and pizza should somehow be involved.

“Rarity Takes Manehattan” is, of course, MLP:FiM Episode #73 (S4 E8).

Suri Polomare giggled wickedly under her breath as she snuck away from Rarity through the dim backroom. Even in the low light, she couldn’t take her eyes off the mesmerizing swatch of fabric that Rarity had so foalishly given her. Its purple sheen rippled over the fabric’s surface, almost as if it were a living, beating heart. And Suri could feel the inspiration flowing through her, pumping with the same beat.

“Oh, it is a pleasure to be competing against you again, Rarity,” she said under her breath. “But there’s really not going to be much competition, now is there? You might’ve had a leg-up on me, but now I’ve got the element of sur—”

*WHACK!*

Suri dropped as her world exploded in pain. The swatch fell before her…

…followed by what looked like a long length of pipe. A low, echoing, vague and dim ringing sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere as the pipe bounced and clattered to a halt. Suri watched it come to rest, as if in a dream. She also noticed a curious warmth filling her mouth, but given how muddled her perceptions had become, she couldn’t quite pinpoint its source.

Slowly, dimly, Suri noticed pinkish-purplish face bending down to look closely at hers. It was equine… probably a mare… definitely had a horn. And it was frowning. Glowering.

“Bad pony,” it said, with an echoing voice that sounded as if it was coming from the other end of a very long tunnel. “You think about what you’ve done. Or were going to do. Good ponies don’t steal each other’s fashion lines!”

Suri was tempted to protest that good ponies didn’t jump each other with lengths of pipe either, but before she could speak, there was a sudden BANG! and a flash of light. She blinked several times, trying to clear her vision.

Eventually, she noticed that the pony was gone. A pizza box seemed to have taken its place.

“Coco?” Suri called. “Coco… little help here?”

Starlight fixes “Power Ponies” with… SWAT-ting! (Shakespearicles' Starlight Fixes Everything project)

Author's Notes:

Starlight Fixes Everything is a group collab project led by Shakespearicles, and its tagline says it all:

Starlight Glimmer has gotten her hooves on Twilight Sparkle's Friendship Journal and she realizes that she could fix everything with time travel...

... So she does.

Starlight Fixes Everything

In Thirty Seconds or Less

( Or the pizza is free! )

Additional ground rules for the collab are that Starlight only has thirty seconds to "fix" the episode, and pizza should somehow be involved.

“Power Ponies” is, of course, MLP:FiM Episode #71 (S4 E6).

Most mornings in Ponyville were heralded by roosters crowing at the first hooves of dawn peeking up over Canterlot Mountain. So among the things Twilight wasn’t expecting was to awaken sometime in the early gloom of pre-dawn to the sight, sound, and experience of her bedroom window in Golden Oaks Library exploding. It shattered inward as she screamed in shock, and it showered both herself and the entire room in shards of glass and splinters of wood faster than she could think to put up a force field.

Near her, in his basket on the floor, Spike barked with surprise as well. Twilight turned horror-filled eyes on him as he backpedaled out of the basket, tripping over his own claws, and pawing futilely at the gooey mess where his face should—

“Hold on,” Twilight said, realizing that she was looking at a face that had just been pied.

And that was when her instincts kicked-in, and she lit her horn, projecting out a glowing field mere heartbeats before something creamy went *SPLAT!* upon it.

“We’re made!” shouted a brown stallion Twilight didn’t recognize, who was in the middle of tucking-and-rolling across her bedroom floor toward Spike’s basket. “Do it now!”

A high-pitched whine sounded from just outside Twilight’s window. She turned her eyes again, and had just enough time to spot a somewhat familiar pale yellow mare with a two-toned pink-and-blue mane raise some kind of complicated-looking device in her hoof—

The whine suddenly jumped beyond Twilight’s ability to hear it, but just as suddenly, she found she could feel it… in her horn… which felt like it’d been struck by lightning!

Twilight tumbled out of bed, hitting the floor, clutching her horn feebly with both forehooves. Despite the pain, she forced her eyes open, and watched as the yellow mare dropped down into the room. The mare and stallion then both turned their attention on Spike’s basket.

No… on his comic book, laying next to the basket.

“Are we sure about this?” asked the stallion.

“We’ll check it for sure back at HQ,” said the mare. “Can’t be too careful where he’s involved. Go on… bag it.” Then after a moment, she added: “Board it, too. I mean it’s still a comic.”

But the two of them weren’t paying much attention to Spike, who was still stumbling about with a faceful of pie… and who, at that moment, plowed bodily into the mare’s side. She staggered, dropping the device.

It hit the floor.

It cracked.

The pain fell away in an instant, and Twilight had her horn lit before the invaders could react, clamping heavy magical bands around both of them.

“Who…” she said, levering herself back up to her hooves. “Excuse my Prench, but who in the actual buck are the two of you?!”

One of the stallion’s forehooves wasn’t quite contained in the bonds, and Twilight watched as he hastily raised something to his muzzle—

“NO!” she shouted, but it was much too late. For as the stallion bit down on the two-chambered capsule, the deadly combination of Pop Rocks and densely-concentrated Pona Cola flooded his mouth with an uncontrollable burst of fizzing and frothing. Twilight turned her head, unable—or unwilling—to watch it take its course.

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” said the mare.

Twilight glared at her through nascent tears. “Tell me: was it worth damaging this beautiful old library? Pieing my Number One Assistant? Forcing me to watch a pony fizzy-pop himself?!”

The mare maintained a cool, even look at Twilight, regardless of her bonds. “Yes,” she whispered. “At least, if that comic is what we think it is.”

Struggling to hold back a sob, Twilight turned her gaze downward, and spotted a stray bit of the pie that had fallen off Spike’s face. She raised it in her magic, drawing back tension, aiming it at the interloper. “Start. Talking.”

“All right. You’re a princess. Anypony else… couldn’t know. But you… they might not feed me my own bon-bons when I get back to the Agency, if I tell just you.”

A glob of cream dripped off the pie-piece. Twilight gritted her teeth.

The mare took a long breath. “My name is Special Agent Sweetie Drops. I work for an agency called S.M.I.L.E. We hunt monsters. And you… have you heard about… Humans?”

Twilight furrowed her brow. “You mean… like the mirror portal?”

“No, mirror-humans don’t come through as humans; they end up as indigenous creatures of this realm. I’m talking about real humans. Dimensional displacement. And something calling itself ‘The Merchant,’ which traps them, and sends them here.”

“And you think…” Twilight pointed at the comic. “That’s one of the tools that he uses to trap them?”

The mare nodded. “We got an anonymous tip last night. But it was very detailed, very plausible… and it came with some pretty good pizza. We couldn’t not take it seriously.”

“Pizza?!” Twilight sighed, pressing a hoof to her face. “You know, you could’ve just led with that!”

Starlight fixes “The Mane Attraction” with... HEAVY METAL! (Shakespearicles' Starlight Fixes Everything project)

Author's Notes:

Starlight Fixes Everything is a group collab project led by Shakespearicles, and its tagline says it all:

Starlight Glimmer has gotten her hooves on Twilight Sparkle's Friendship Journal and she realizes that she could fix everything with time travel...

... So she does.

Starlight Fixes Everything

In Thirty Seconds or Less

( Or the pizza is free! )

Additional ground rules for the collab are that Starlight only has thirty seconds to "fix" the episode, and pizza should somehow be involved.

“The Mane Attraction” is, of course, MLP:FiM Episode #115 (S5 E24). And before we begin, let us not forget to set the scene:

“—and I won’t hesitate to pull her from the festival if these demands aren’t met!”

Pinkie Pie shrunk low to the ground, teeth gritted in the plaintive hope that the off-white stallion before her would stop shouting. She wanted so badly to call him a mean meanie-head and walk away. This certainly wasn’t how her friends talked to her! Or townsponies! Not even Limestone got so bad, unless she’d touched Holder’s Boulder, in which case she knew she deserved it!

But crouching there, with Svengallop looming over her… Pinkie couldn’t. She just couldn’t. Her throat felt dry, her would-be comebacks turned to ashes, and—

Suddenly there was a loud *SCREECH* from all the festival’s huge amps and loudspeakers all at once. Svengallop jerked back and raised his eyes toward a spot above and behind Pinkie. She turned in time to see a huge burst of pyrotechnics light up the top of a particularly massive stack of amplifiers that stretched well above the top of the adjoining stage.

In the center of the flames was the silhouette of a pony.

The fire didn’t abate. But it shifted, tapering in front and flaring even higher in the back, bringing the pony’s corpse-painted visage and studded black hoofbands into sharp relief. It glared straight down at Pinkie—no, at Svengallop—then hefted a long-necked guitar with an appearance like six strings trying to escape from the skull of a deadly beast.

“Foolish mortal,” the pony’s voice boomed—and Pinkie noticed it had a glowing horn, which might’ve been the source of its amplification. “You would terrorize the mortal realm to keep your prissy little pop-princess from discovering true power?”

“I…” Svengallop swallowed. “I don’t know what you—”

“SILENCE!”

Thunder cracked, and lightning speared down from the sky, as the pony adjusted a dial on its guitar. Pinkie’s muzzle crinkled as a pungent and distinct odor came wafting on the breeze from where Svengallop stood trembling.

“Countess Coloratura, I know you can hear me. My time in this realm grows short. But behold: the power of Tartarus unchained. Behold: true power. Behold… then claim it as your own, if you dare!”

Then the pony strummed, and Pinkie and Svengallop alike were blown off their hooves by a sound-wave of incomprehensible power. They were sent tumbling end-over-end across the festival grounds as the single chord was followed by others in rapid succession…

Trixie relaxed into the chair next to Starlight’s bed in the Castle of Friendship, then squeezed her eyes shut and allowed herself a moment to simply soak up its plush softness. Trixie really must ask if there’s a spare one of these around, she thought to herself. One deep breath led to another, and then another, as a smile crept across her face. How many times has Trixie visited her Great and Powerful best friend, yet never thought to rest her weary hooves from the road in this most magnificent of chairs?

A gentle tone from a clock on the wall disrupted Trixie’s reverie. She huffed and pouted at it. Perhaps Trixie should work in some more teacup practice while she’s waiting? After a moment of considering the thought, Trixie furrowed her brow. I wonder what Starlight’s up to in there, anyway? Didn’t she tell Trixie that she just needed a minute, and then she’d have something ‘fun’ to share?

Slowly, reluctantly, Trixie pushed herself up and out of the chair. Her hooves were a bit weary from the road, truth be told; but she felt torn between concern for her friend, and irritation at being made to wait. She crossed to the door of Starlight’s dressing room—Must be nice to have one of those!—and knocked.

“Starlight? Starlight! Trixie is quite ready to see this ‘fun’ you promised!”

She jumped at the loud *BOOM!* that sounded behind her. Then she turned, and blinked several times as she struggled to get her brain around the juxtaposition of Starlight having suddenly appeared amid a hodgepodge layer of dime-store, teenage-rebel nonsense.

“Hey Trixie!” Starlight said, smiling widely and breathing as if she was winded. “Whoo… sorry, I forgot how good that felt. I completely lost track of time!” A grimace worked its way across her corpse-painted, heavily-mascara’d features. “Which… is gonna cost me, big time. I ended up having to put an entire festival’s worth of pizza on my Amareican Express card. Thank Celestia they didn’t decline the charge!”

“What…?”

“Oh, the getup!” Starlight stepped back, raising her forehooves, gesturing at herself with one while hefting a really weird-looking guitar with the other. “Yeah, it turns out I don’t fit the jacket anymore. But the rest of it is how I went around in high school! I was the terror of Sire’s Hollow. Oh, and I still remember how to play a couple songs. Wanna hear?”

Trixie kept her gaze even, and smacked her lips. “Yeeeaaahhhh, Trixie’s gonna go with ‘no’ on that.”

“You… don’t like metal?”

With a slow shake of her head, Trixie walked back over to the chair and sat down. “It’s not just that, of course; you look ridiculous! Though Trixie is indeed more a fan of music that doesn’t threaten her eardrums, and that has things like melody, and recognizable words… not ones about horrid things like disembowelment, either.”

A grimace of fiery condemnation—totally accentuated by the makeup—settled over Starlight’s face.

“Now if we’re done with this… highly questionable ‘fun,’ I believe that Trixie was promised a selection of one or more fine pizzas?”

Starlight raised the guitar. Her horn flared. And she strummed—

Lightening her Load - [Comedy] - March 2018 Flashfic (“What You Leave Behind”)

Though Applejack faced away from their impromptu hiding-place beside the road, Rarity could feel her eyes roll. “Come on, sugarcube. You ain’t never been outside somewhere, and…?”

Rarity squirmed. “I’m more of an indoor enthusiast, darling.”

“Well, the closest ‘indoors’ is a half-day back that way. This’ll have to do.”

“But… well, it’s… tantamount to littering, isn’t it?”

Applejack chuckled. “Oh sugarcube… you ain’t the first pony doin’ this, and you won’t be the last.”

“...You won’t think… less of me?”

“Never. Honest.”

With a sigh of resignation, Rarity slowly lowered her haunches into the prickly grass. She arched her back. Sweat beaded at her brow.

Soon she felt the smooth sensation of her heavy, cosmetics-laden saddlebag sliding off and plopping down behind her.

“Ya done?”

“Indeed,” Rarity said, tousling her mane. “Now, I don’t suppose they have a little fillies’ room somewhere around?”

Author's Notes:

This originally appeared in the March 2018 Flashfic contest, which had a limit of 150 words.

An Invasion is Born - [Contest Winner!] - September 2018 Flashfic (“Birthday Magic”)

Twenty minutes past closing time, Pony Joe set down the mug he’d been polishing and walked to the cafe’s door, seeing silent streetlights. He sighed, then flipped the sign to closed.

The half-hour since his last customer had left gave him plenty of time to sweep the floors, wash the dishes, and bag the day’s leftovers—save for the heart-shaped eclair sitting alone in the counter’s soft light.

He sighed as his gaze lingered over its delicate layers of chocolate, pastry, and cream. It’d become a habit to make one in case his favorite customer stopped in. And it’d make too much mess to join the bag he’d drop by the shelter on his way home.

Joe was gathering his hat and coat when the bell above the door rang. His heart leapt as a sleek black figure came sauntering in.

“Lover,” Queen Chrysalis purred. “Any news about the city’s defenses?”

Author's Notes:

This originally appeared in the September 2018 Flashfic contest, which had a limit of 150 words. It was inspired by an art piece submitted for the September 2018 Writeoff, "Keep Pretending." Admittedly I took some liberties with the Flashfic contest prompt, which was "Birthday Magic." But to my pleasure and amazement, it won the contest!

I'm fine with leaving room for reader interpretation of this one, though it may have come out being a bit more more vague than I'd hoped. My personal interpretation is that Joe is an unwitting traitor under Chrysalis' thrall. I mean, how can you say no to these eyes?

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