A Band of Misfit Losers Hunt the Undead

by Rune Soldier Dan

First published 11th of April, 2020

Ongoing adventures of college kids and public educators fighting horrors beyond human ken.

Principal Celestia and a bunch of other middle-aged high school teachers hunt the undead.

So does her adoptive daughter, Sunset Shimmer, alongside a farmer, an ex-siren, a forgettable nobody, and a dark mistress of unholy mad science.

These are their ongoing stories.

Finding Applejack (romance, drama)

Two years off the farm, and Applejack remained a ‘wake at 4:30 A.M.’ kind of girl. Didn’t matter if her and the gang partied til ten or staked a vampire at midnight, soon as that clock came around her eyes opened and her body moved. Years of farm work had trained her well.

But though the instinct remained, it had small purpose these days. Canterlot College had no cows to be milked or hay to be hauled over for their breakfast. The only chickens in her dorm were dead ones in the cafeteria, with all flavor cooked and frozen out. And the only thing growing was the tomato plant Applejack managed in the corner of their living room, plus the black mold on the hallway ceilings. Neither needed much help.

Still, Applejack got up. Turned on the little desk lamp above her dated laptop and cleared out the weekend’s homework. A straight-A business major – no test the professors threw at her were half as hard as balancing books after the apple blight. All that, at age fourteen. Back when Rarity whined about Blueblood, and Sunset was bitch queen of their school.

Applejack recognized the old, lingering jealousy, and let it go. They’d all grown up. Sunset most of all.

She looked to her roommate. Sunset Shimmer was an ungraceful sleeper, with open, snoring mouth and sprawled body that shuffled every few minutes. Applejack slept like the dead, so it caused no trouble.

Homework done. Nothing else to do until the rest of the world woke up, and this was the worst time of the day. Applejack was an extrovert – she loved people, needed that special noise in her life. Didn’t like to be alone with her thoughts.

Puttering in their cramped room looking for something quiet to do, her eyes found the closet mirror. Bra and boxers for her sleepwear. She eyed the thick biceps, the six-pack abs on her wide chest. Twenty hours of hard labor a week, most of her life, fueled by an appetite to match.

Like a dang gorilla.

She was too tall. Too heavy. Crow’s feet and chapped lips she really should hide with products, but why bother? Like putting makeup on a wrestler, and not one of those hot lady wrestlers.

“Hubba, hubba.”

The words seized her bitter thoughts, pushing them down deep where they belong. Applejack turned to find Sunset gazing up from the bed. The desk lamp glinted on her green eyes as they played over Applejack’s body.

“Sorry, sugar. Did I wake you?”

“In the best possible way.”

Somehow, Sunset didn’t sound like she just woke up. She moved to a seated position, letting the light play across her grinning teeth. “Sorry if I’m being creepy, but damn, girl. I ever tell you I’m into muscles?”

Applejack let out a low chuckle. “Not in words, no.”

Sunset flinched back a little, blushing and speaking quickly. “I mean, if I am being creepy you need to let me know. Just, anytime. I’ll stop right away.”

“Naw, you’re fine and better than fine.” Applejack reached down and gave her hair a quick tussle, earning a giggle that sounded oddly disappointed. “I’m gonna hit the shower, then head off to class. Later.”

Applejack strode from the room, not quickly enough to miss the low whistle Sunset sent in her wake.

“Principles of Online Marketing” sounded like a stupid class for running a farm, and twenty years ago it would have been. But Sweet Apple Acres was one of the last small farms standing, and did so with an archipelago of specialty products from cider to wooden furniture. All of this needed vendors and brand loyalty, which took contacts and advertising. Adapt or die, even if it wasn’t her best class.

...It’d go a lot smoother if Applejack didn’t sit next to Adagio. Or more accurately, if Adagio didn’t sit next to her.

Applejack was damn proud of the ex-siren, usually. To chase stardom with her now-mundane singing was a gamble. To chase it without turning into a trendy little pop-star seemed impossible, yet Adagio stood determined to resurrect cultured music from the abyss. She was writing her own songs, practicing the violin and piano, and studying business to learn to make money now that mind control was off the table. Most days she even paid attention in class, which could not be said of other students.

Today was not ‘most days.’

Applejack didn’t look over when slow movements of Adagio’s chair brought their hips in contact. It was a common enough occurrence that she didn’t think twice. And it was only a little distracting that Adagio chewed her gum in a way that sounded… oral.

But today brought a fresh opening from the warming weather, leading Applejack to jean shorts and Adagio to sandals. A bare foot settled across her calf and began stroking, sending a deep flush up Applejack’s neck.

“Quit it,” she snapped in a whisper.

“I see you grinning,” Adagio purred. She did stop, although of course had to add, “See? Look at me, all respecting your boundaries.”

Applejack tried to physically pull down her smile. “Is that why our hips are touching?”

“I’ll stop if you tell me to.”

Applejack hunched lower over her work. Adagio kept at it as well, smirking triumphantly until the bell rang.

A slow evening, with nowhere to go. Applejack loved these kinds of days. She lounged on the sofa with controller in hand, just as she had for the past hour. She’d gotten to the point where she could almost win at Smash Pillars, and the taste of victory had her finally putting in effort to learn the game.

While Applejack sat upright, Sunset laid along the length of the couch, resting her back against Applejack’s shoulder as she read from a small booklet.

“Something for class?” Applejack asked.

She felt the shrug against her side. “No, it’s kind of a primer on assault rifles. According to Mom, handguns are fine unless something swarms us, and then I’ll really wish I knew how to use one.”

“Cool.”

Sunset shuffled in place. “This is nice, though. Just a quiet evening, with only us two. Doing things with the Rainbooms is super-cool of course, and our roommates are great. But sometimes you just want peace and quiet, you know? Just you and someone you’re really comfortable with, just sort of being independent together. And, you know, seeing where the evening goes, no real plans, just kind of whatever you and I want to do together, alone–”

“I’m here, too,” Wallflower called from her seat at a folding chair, where she controlled the character currently throwing Applejack’s from the stage.

Sunset held the booklet over her face and fell silent, suddenly warm against Applejack’s back.

The next evening was quiet too, but with Adagio around it could never last. Lounging with her legs over Applejack’s lap, she at least had the decency to wait until Applejack’s character lost its last life before interrupting.

“We’re alone. Wanna make out?”

“Not really,” Wallflower said, startling Applejack into a leap, which sent Adagio tumbling to the floor.

4:30 A.M. Applejack stayed in bed, staring upwards.

This had been her life since Christmastime. She rejected both of their advances then, but left the door open for the future. ‘Too busy,’ she had said.

A dang lie.

She was terrified. Of losing whoever she didn’t choose, and losing whoever she did. Of blowing it. Of not being good enough, or pretty enough to make it work.

She always… kind of figured they’d both get over their little crushes on her inside a week. Yet spring now turned slowly to summer, and they were still at it. Still all-but signaling her with rockets.

Sunset’s voice came from the other bed. “You alright over there?”

The words brought an instinctive smile. Applejack rolled to face her, though the darkened room hid Sunset from sight. “Kinda. How’d you know I was up?”

“You snore.”

Can’t argue with that. “Sorry.”

Shadowed motion came from Sunset’s bed. Perhaps they were looking to each others’ eyes without realizing.

“Wanna talk?”

What felt like a hard knot bulged in Applejack’s throat. “Y-yeah.”

She took a deep breath. “Just… sorry for… you know. Everything.”

“With what?” Sunset sounded worried. Of course. From her angle, Applejack could be talking about anything.

“Love, and stuff.” Like picking apples, talking came easier the more you did it. A little. “Sunset, let me be honest for once. With you and Daj, I… I thought you’d both move on real quick-like. I thought if we dated y’all would dump me like a rooster in winter. I’m not pretty like you two.”

Another motion as Sunset raised her head from the pillow. “No, you’re pretty like Applejack.”

Applejack gave a breathless chuckle. “And lordy, I actually believe it when you’re around. You’re so good, ‘n tough ‘n smart… a-and you want me. And so does Daj, and that’s the rub, ain’t it? If I choose one, I hurt the other.”

Her lips curled back from her teeth in a grimace, tears welling as the words uncorked something deep. Good ol’ Sunset – Applejack would sooner cut off her arm than hurt her. Same for Adagio – she had so little going for her these days, and faced it down with her own bitchy courage. To take either of their feelings and then shit on it by turning to the other… no. Heck, no.

“AJ,” Sunset began, then cut herself off. “Wait, give me a second. This is stupid.”

More motion in the darkness, this time as Sunset got up. She flicked on her desk lamp, giving a dim, bronze light to the room.

No makeup. Odd strands of red and yellow hair frayed out against fashion and gravity. Applejack swallowed, watching as Sunset pulled over her squeaky computer chair and sat between their beds.

She was beautiful. Inside and out.

Applejack rose and swung her heavy legs over the bed, facing Sunset. Keeping her head down to hide the tears.

Sunset spoke first. “You should be happy. You deserve to be. You’re beautiful, and if you need someone else to tell it to you then I’d love to be that person. And if you want that person to be Adagio instead, that is absolutely, one-hundred percent okay. If I can’t be your girlfriend, I still want to be your friend. Although of the two I do really want to be your girlfriend.”

Of course. Sunset was great like that.

Too good for Applejack.

Still looking down, Applejack mumbled, “But what about Adagio?”

“We could invite her.”

A jolt hit Applejack’s thoughts, scattering them and setting her to blinking.

Sunset chuckled, and Applejack finally raised her head. The girl smiled gently to her. “You, uh, look like you could use some good ideas.”

Applejack sniffed and knuckled at her eyes. It was enough to make her laugh, anyway. “That’s crazy talk.”

“For you,” Sunset said. “Adagio is… Adagio. And I was raised in Equestria – we mate for life, but never really got into the whole ‘monogamy without exception or bust’ kind of thing.”

Applejack blinked again, looking to Sunset’s calm smile and taking an extra few seconds to realize the girl wasn’t joking.

“I thought you were mostly straight?”

A lame question. Applejack’s brain was still trying to catch up.

Sunset shrugged, a faint redness coming to her cheeks. “Mostly, but it’s Adagio, you know? I could experiment, see what works.”

Applejack couldn’t hold the gaze anymore. She looked down once more, fidgeting with her sheets. “Dang it, girl, I ain’t really a friends-with-benefits kinda person. I need something that can be permanent.”

“So do I.” Sunset’s words came with gentle strength. “But AJ, no one ever knows if things will be permanent when they start out. That’s putting the cart before the horse. The only way to learn is to try, so… let’s try. And if it doesn’t work, we see what comes next. As friends.”

There it was. Nearly the last doubt dispelled. AJ didn’t much doubt Adagio would be in for this.

Both of them. It sounded like a fantasy; a dumb, creepy dream. Now within reach.

Wetness hit the floor.

Sunset only stood, and walked across to sit by her side.

Applejack pawed at her eyes. More tears came. “Sorry,” she said with gravel in her throat. “Jeez, what do you even see in this?”

Gorilla girl. Redneck. Crybaby.

Sunset dabbed a tissue at her face, hugging her tightly with the other arm. “If I tried to count all the reasons you’re great, we’d be here all day."

She gave a wet sniff of her own. “I think… waiting for you to choose between us wasn’t the right move. I thought I was giving you space, but here you were thinking we’d just move on. I’m gonna ask you out soon, so start thinking about what you want to do.”

A second hand came around, wrapping Applejack in an embrace. Sunset pushed her nose forward and nuzzled her like a horse.

Applejack reached around Sunset’s back, pressing inwards, and they remained there until dawn broke through the window.

Applejack called them “attacks.” Never knew what they really were that sent her spiraling down into a crying wreck. She bounced back – she always did. Just a part of life. Love, sadness, joy…

And Super Smash Pillars.

Adagio’s character flew from the stage. She settled back into Applejack’s side, smiling with vague bemusement. “Kind of weird for a first date.”

Applejack shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Not at all! It’s romantic in its own way.” She snuggled closer, throwing one leg over Applejack’s knee. “Spending time with each other in the comfort of home? Mexican take-out and gas-station beer? No dressing up, no spending big money, just us three and each other.”

A pause. “And Wallflower.”

Wallflower’s voice came from the recliner. “Don’t mind me.”

Adagio leered. “Hey, you wanna get in on–”

“Hard pass.”

“Lay off,” Sunset mock-scolded. She sat on the knee Adagio didn’t occupy and reached back with a mischievous smile to tickle beneath Applejack’s chin. “Look at AJ. She can barely handle two.”

Applejack tried to focus – she was the last one standing against Wallflower, and had never come this close to winning. But she giggled and squirmed under the tickle – and Adagio’s foot stroking her leg – and Adagio’s hand on her hip – and Sunset’s face, looking to her with loving cruelty – that there was no chance, after all.

She fought valiantly. Tried not to listen as they spoke.

“Look at those cheeks! Red like apples.”

“Come on, Adagio. She has to focus.”

“Her birthday’s in three weeks, you know.”

“I know. We need to start… planning things out.”

Applejack’s last life ended at half-health. Wallflower burped. “You’ve definitely improved, good job. Especially, you know. Considering.”

“Set up a rematch,” Applejack called, her flamed cheeks pulling the lips to a grin. “I got a good feeling about this next one. Reckon I’ll finally beat you, so long as a few other missies keep their hands where they belong.”

She did not, and neither did they. But that was alright.

Author's Notes:

Hello, all! It took a few months, but here it is: reader-suggested chapters for my indulgent little series about public educators and college sophomores fighting the undead.

While this chapter was specifically requested by Vren55, a lot of people mentioned hoping for resolution to the love triangle. I bounced around a bit between the possibilities before settling on the above – poor Applejack never really got to be the hero, but was always there supporting those who were. It’s a little cheesecorn, but I’m pretty happy to see her mind get blown in the best possible way. As for the future… well, that’ll sort itself out as it comes.

This is, and will remain, a fic I update when between other fics. Thus said, I certainly hope to continue, and to use as many of the suggestions as I can.

Feel free to drop off any suggestions you like via the link here. And thank you for reading!

Cool Girls Don't Look at Explosions (monster-of-the-week, Ember)

Even its critics would call Canterlot a very modern metropolis. Perhaps spurred by its position on multiple ley lines, the city seemed locked in a never-ending renaissance of arts and science. Tech businesses flourished, museums and galleries won international acclaim, and local politicians were never more certain that monsters do not exist. Anything that damaged its reputation as glittering, progressive, and monster-free was always discreetly kicked from the limelight, by Mayor Ma’am’s stiletto heels if necessary.

Sunset was in one such area that had been kicked – far from the museums and even the Everfree, an urban sprawl of abandoned construction and closed factories. Such had its own art in the form of daredevils, graffiti, and basketball, flourishing in odd mirror of the public side of Canterlot.

And its own monsters.

Almost midnight. Exactly the time and neighborhood Celestia warned her against, concealed pistol or no.

Sunset coolly checked on the hand-me-down motorcycle she bought off Torch, tuning out the mocking laughter to her side. She didn’t notice the cyan girl storming forwards until she spoke.

The voice, normally cheerful and irreverent, came out as a snap. “Tell me he’s lying.”

“He’s a demon, of course he lies,” Sunset muttered, fiddling with her bike. “Unless speed demons are different, I guess. You tell me.”

She glanced over to the subject and source of the laughter – a skull-faced, cow-horned creature with spiked leathers and a motorcycle that put Sunset’s to shame. Enough chrome decorated the outside to build a second bike, literal flames were set to erupt from seven exhaust pipes, and it had an engine designed to be as obnoxiously loud as possible.

Ember growled, leaning above Sunset’s crouch. “Tell me you didn’t bet your soul.”

Sunset shrugged. “I bet my soul.”

“God-dammit!” Ember yelled, drawing a fresh laugh from their rival. She learned down, hissing angrily. “This is exactly what speed demons do. Find a young twerp who thinks they’re invincible and goad their ego until they bite. How many times have you even ridden a motorcycle?”

“Six, not counting when you taught me.”

“Right? Six! You can barely keep balance and you’re racing a literal speed demon!”

“It’s only to the end of this road.” Sunset rose from the work. She winced at some grease stains on her hands and wiped them together. “You kill a speed demon, he just comes back. His end of the bet is he’s banished from Earth forever if I cross the line first. Seems like the only way to keep him down for good.”

“Your mom is gonna kill me,” Ember groaned, then froze. “Crap, what am I gonna tell my dad? ‘Hi, pops! Your girlfriend’s daughter sold her soul on my watch, hope it doesn’t ruin your chances!”

“I didn’t sell my soul, I bet it.”

Ember threw up her arms. “A rookie against a speed demon, you basically gave it away! I can’t believe it, this is why no one likes amateur hunters. You kill one suburban-ass vampire and think you’re G.I. Joe.”

“Thirty seconds, Sunshit!” The demon roared with glee, now sitting on his motorcycle and gunning the engine.

“‘Sunshit.’ Real original.” Sunset muttered it lowly. “Hey Ember, are there any of those 24-hour diners around here? I could destroy a hamburger right about now, I haven’t eaten since four.”

She climbed onto the bike. “Also, move.”

Ember took a few steps back, though nagged the whole way. “I can’t protect you! This is bad news for both of us!”

Sunset donned her helmet – another hand-me-down, this one from Ember. It still reeked of the gel she used to spike her hair. The demon crowed to the sycophant edge-lords who cheered it, while a handful of other watchers looked worriedly to Sunset.

Local bikers had rigged the traffic stop for their races. Its yellow light became the thirty second warning, then…

Green.

Flames bellowed, engines roared, and the speed demon gave a last, rancorous laugh before an explosion detonated his bike. Others stared, but Sunset simply puttered forward along the impromptu racetrack. Nice and slow, only wobbling a little, moving easily to the finish line.

“I slipped a phosphorus pellet down one of those stupid flame-exhausts while he was posturing.”

As it happened, there was indeed a late-night diner nearby. Terrible coffee and a mediocre burger, but Sunset shoveled it down all the same.

Ember poked grumpily at her bacon and eggs. “You could have told me.”

“Nope,” Sunset said around a full mouth. She swallowed and went on. “I tell you, you calm down, he knows something’s up. Couldn’t let him get suspicious the ‘rookie’ was pulling one over.”

A pause. Then, “Although it is a little annoying to still be called ‘amateur hunter’ after two years in the business. I put up with it from Harshwhinny because she’s mom’s friend and it’s not worth the fight. It’d be real cool if I didn’t have to take it from you.”

“Fine,” Ember grumbled. She flicked back an errant bang of hair, folded a whole pancake into her mouth, and gulped it down in three bites. “I can’t say you’re wrong, but you still made me shit myself back there. Maybe give me the same courtesy and share your plans next time.”

Sunset waved her empty mug to the waitress, smiling as coffee briefly triumphed over sleep. “Yeah, okay. Deal. And, uh, speaking of plans...”

She gave a light chuckle, suddenly far more nervous than with the demon. “Has Torch said anything about marrying my mom?”

“Not the ‘M’ word specifically, no.”

Ember shrugged, tightening her mouth. She and Sunset got along fine as friends, and the same as hunters despite a few kinks in the line. ‘Sisters’ was a trickier question.

The slim biker topped off her coffee along with Sunset’s. “He’s into her, definitely, but who gets married these days?”

“My mom is super domestic,” Sunset confided. “I think she’d be over the moon to get married for real.”

“Has Celestia been...” Ember fidgeted, letting a droll smile eclipse her nerves. “You know, thinking she’s being discreet, but quietly sounding you out on them having a baby?”

Sunset arched an eyebrow. “Torch has, I take it?”

“Yep.” Ember rolled her eyes, but the smile grew. “Out of the blue, Dad started talking about how loved and appreciated I am and how no amount of additional family members will change that. Real subtle.”

Sunset flushed a little, scratching her cheek and grinning. “Well, nothing like that from Mom, but uh… past experience when I magically turned into a baby for a while showed she’s big on the idea.”

“Hey, if it makes them happy, I’m in. I ain’t gonna be a brat about it and neither should you.”

“No complaints,” Sunset said. “What about your mom?”

“Hm? Oh.” Ember gave a dismissive wave. “I don’t have a mom. Dad plucked me from a trash heap when I was a baby. I don’t know who my ‘real’ parents are and I couldn’t care less.”

Sunset flinched. “Oof, I’m sorry.”

Ember shrugged. “Don’t be – I’m way better off with Dad than those assholes. And I made up my mind at the start of this to support him however it goes.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Sunset smiled into her coffee. “Sometimes family is about choice, you know? Moms...”

“And dads...” Ember added.

“And sist–”

They both said it, and both stopped at the same beat. Each returned quickly to their meal, not ready for that conversation. Not yet.

Author's Notes:

Ember chapters requested by Marwile, Shilic, and tbh a bunch of other people in various comments. Hope you enjoyed!

Feel free to drop off any chapter suggestions via the link here. And thank you for reading!

The Extremely Shy Aquatic Shapeshifters Club (Fluttershy, slice-of-life)

They met on a sailboat in the Pacific, launched from a dock an hour’s drive from Canterlot. Fluttershy sat at the head of the ship’s cramped cabin table and nervously tapped down her wooden gavel.

Instantly, the three others in the room looked at her, causing her to squeak and hide behind her hair. She stuttered out a few tries before managing to start things off.

“This… um, this meeting of extremely shy aquatic shapeshifters is now called to order.”

The others applauded quietly, giving her the confidence to go on. “Um, as always, we start this meeting with a motion for a unanimous ‘thank you’ to my dad for taking us out on his boat and providing the juice boxes.”

Silence. Fluttershy mumbled, “Um… someone needs to second it.”

“Seconded.” A thin, gray girl raised her hand, though quickly drew it back. “I’m sorry if someone else was going to say it… I’ll be quiet.”

“The motion passes,” Fluttershy said. “Thanks, Dad.”

Though she said it softly, Mister Shy had developed uncanny hearing over the course of his daughter’s life and called down from above deck. “My pleasure, sweetie!”

A tiny ‘squee’ escaped Fluttershy’s throat, and she went on with marginally more confidence. “As you can see, we have a new prospective member with us today. I want her to feel comfortable and accepted, so I think we should all tell our stories before asking hers.”

She took a little sip from her juice box, noting the nervous expressions on her peers. “I’ll go first: My name’s Fluttershy, and I’m a weremanatee. It’s like a werewolf but with a manatee. Right now I’m going to college, and I kind of want to work for Everfree Park when I get done.”

“I… I’ll go next!” the cream-colored girl to her right volunteered bravely. “My name is Coco Pommel, and I’m a wereshark. It’s, um, like a werewolf but with a shark. I was bitten accidentally by a wereshark in the aquarium, who was actually just a really lazy guy who didn’t want to work or hunt. I’m a student at Canterlot High right now, but my dream is to follow Senpai Rarity’s footsteps and become a fashion designer!”

The thin gray girl swallowed hard as attention fell to her. Her eyes darted around in a growing panic, seeking escape.

“Remember your training,” Fluttershy coached gently. “Just picture us as cute little stuffed animals and pretend you’re talking to them.”

It helped. The girl giggled like a kitten and began to speak, though she did so with her eyes closed. “My name is Marble Pie, and I’m a siren. Um, an ‘Earth siren.’ I didn’t like to sing, so I never could hypnotize sailors and lure them overboard. My sisters stranded me on shore to die, but Mom and Dad – um, Igneous and Cloudy Quartz – found me and kept me in a kiddie pool in their garage until I was old enough to change shapes (I’m, um, kind of a mermaid in water). I met my human sisters there and I really love them. I make candles and sell them online.”

“Very good, you’ve definitely improved!” Fluttershy clapped her hands together twice (quietly) before turning to the last girl at the table. “Now it’s your turn. Take your time, and only share what you want to.”

The newcomer had gray skin and a disordered mop of short blonde hair. She beamed at the others, the odd positioning of her golden eyes seeming to meet all their gazes at once. Or would have, if the trio weren’t so averse to eye contact.

Nonetheless, she spoke with bubbly enthusiasm hence unheard in their quiet group. “Hi, I’m Ditzy Doo! I’m a changeling, so I can like take any shape I want although my normal form is gross and buggy so I stay with this. Waaaaaaay back in 2016 I came here from Equestria with my queen to help her take over the Earth. Drones like me have no free will when she’s around, so even though I was making friends and having fun she kidnapped Sunset and made me take her place. The queen lost and got dragged back to Equestria, severing her control over me. So I abandoned ship, laid low, and I really love my job as a daycare aide and living as a human. It got kind of lonely having to hide my secret all the time, so I’m really happy Fluttershy found out and invited me to your club. What do you guys do on these trips?”

“We drink juice boxes and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” Fluttershy explained, drawing bobbing nods from the others. “If it’s warm we sun ourselves wearing swimsuits we would never, ever wear in a public area. Then we go for a swim, just enjoying the chance to be together in the beautiful ocean.”

She giggled and took another sip from her juice box. “And if we run into any dolphins, we find out if any of them committed genocide against porpoises or raped their females and teach them a lesson in manners.”

An unexpected wave jostled the cabin, opening a closet filled with switchblade knives and metal bats wrapped in barbed wire. Coco discreetly reached over and nudged it closed.

Fluttershy’s expression grew serious. “But first, We have to vote for you to be accepted into the extremely shy aquatic shapeshifters club. Um… well, let’s see if it can be unanimous. Does anyone have any concerns?”

They did – Ditzy was neither extremely shy, nor a strictly aquatic shapeshifter. But no one wanted to be a bother or become the center of attention. She seemed nice.

The motion carried without dissent. Quietly gossiping, the newly-expanded group finished their snack and took turns diving from the boat, each transforming to pass smoothly to the water. Coco as a lean shark, Marble taking her siren form, and Ditzy choosing a sea turtle for her first swim.

Then Fluttershy hit the water belly-first as a fat, blubberous manatee. They laughed, frolicking in the unspoiled Pacific waves before Marble spotted some dipshit dolphins, and duty called.

Author's Notes:

For those out on the joke, yes, dolphins really do all that.

This chapter somewhat requested by megarockman, who wanted a return of our changeling friend from four years ago (good memory, man!). The rest is me having way too much fun.

Feel free to drop off any chapter suggestions via the link here. And thank you for reading!

Rollercoaster of Fanservice (monster-of-the-week, cheesecake)

Sunset Shimmer had played her share of video games, but never quite expected to run into her own convenient chest-high wall in the middle of a battle. She dove behind it, shielding her eyes from the radiant glow by the Ferris wheel.

Adagio was already there, and already bitching. “‘Let’s go to the new theme park,’ you said. ‘Unwind after that vampire in the theater,’ you said.”

She pointed to the yellow woman in the distance, though dared not look. “‘Get attacked by a valley-girl succubus with hypnotic tits’ somehow didn’t come up!”

Sunset chanced a peek, though nothing had changed. Yellow and pink fluttered on bat-like wings, now landing before Vinyl and Octavia. Vinyl fell easily – Octavia swung her purse, but the demon dodged and used the motion to ram Octavia’s face between her breasts. Her fear was immediately replaced by blushing adoration, and the pair began snapping pictures alongside a horde of others.

“Take good pics, m’kay?” Vignette Valencia twirled, launching herself back to the air. “Then like, comment and subscribe on Instasnap and MyStable! And don’t forget to check out my merch. Won’t cost much, just your souls, m’kay?”

“We love you, Vignette!” Rainbow Dash screamed, hustling after her with phone raised.

Vignette turned and blew a kiss, posing for a fresh round of pictures and gracing Sunset with a steady view. The she-demon was naked except for a black thong. Her breasts were hidden in a PG-13 glow, yet that didn’t change how drop-dead beautiful they were.

Sunset had to get a picture. She began drawing her phone.

A strong peach arm yanked her back into cover. Sunset tried to stand, but the arm held fast and Adagio slapped her hard across the face.

Applejack muttered from the side. “That didn’t work when we tried it on Twilight.”

“Second time’s the charm.” Adagio shrugged.

Sunset kept struggling. “Let me go! Those are the most perfect breasts in the world and I need to take pictures and find her on MyStable for more pictures and buy her merch and…”

She blinked. Then blinked again, with a clearer mind. “Oh.”

“Told’ja.”

“Maybe it’s both the slap and breaking eye contact?” Sunset mused, then shook her head hard. “Whatever. How the heck can we take her out like this? Twenty friggin’ meters and a good smack later I still really, really wanna see her tits.”

“That, my dear, thirsty friend...” Adagio paused to theatrically touch up her lipstick. “Is where I come in. We’re gonna hash things out one predatory, hypnotic temptress to another, right up until I knife her in the ribs.

Applejack grunted. Instinct leaned her to peek out over the wall, though she caught herself in time. “That’s a heckin’ big gamble. If you’re wrong, she zaps you into being a brainless social media slave faster than you can say ‘fox in a hen house.’”

“We could always slap her,” Sunset offered.

“Chillax babe, it’s me.” Adagio gave Applejack a quick, firm kiss on the lips and rose to a crouched stand. “Sexy siren extraordinaire. I know all the tricks, magic and otherwise, and how to get around them.”

She did – in fact, it was a survival skill for sirens to not fall for each others’ hypnosis. You needed a slippery, focused mind and utter self-assurance in your own beauty. You were the seducer, never the seduced.

Adagio stood, ignoring Sunset’s last warning. She climbed over the wall and began waking towards Vignette’s mob.

...Sexy Vignette. Busty Vignette. Damn-near naked Vignette.

But Adagio didn’t look so bad herself. Summertime weather had put her in short-shorts and sandals, with an exposed-belly shirt and sleeveless jacket. All at the height of fashion, and honestly it was far sexier to leave some things to imagination. The dear little demon was trying too hard.

Adagio stuck out like a sore thumb, the only bystander not frantically taking pictures or tapping her phone. Vignette floated down before her, smirking with anticipated triumph.

“Whasup, bitch?” Adagio smirked right back, though had to squint. The light of Vignette’s breasts were like two suns, hazy and hot.

The succubus loudly cracked her gum before responding. “Not much, babe. Just trying to get trending, m’kay?”

“Demons care about social media?”

“Who do ya think invented it?” Vignette yawned and stretched, jiggling her majestic twin suns. “Speaking of which, if you could, like, follow me on all the grams, that’d be...”

They weren’t so bright now that Adagio was used to them. Lovely, grapefruit-sized yellow glows.

Adagio bit her lip hard, not looking away. Not wanting to.

“...Real cool of you, m’kay? If I get a million subs I’ll take a poll and post either throat or feet pics, so smash those likes!”

Mother of Celestia. Adagio fumbled with her phone, dropping it twice in her haste. Vignette fluttered elsewhere, and Adagio joined the mad scramble to keep up.

The others had watched, careful to squint their eyes against even the vaguest details.

“Celestia damn it,” Sunset growled.

“Any idea where Wallflower got off to?” Applejack asked.

Sunset crouched down behind their wall, pulling her friend to do the same. “No. For all we know she’s in the crowd.”

“Maybe. One way other another, we can’t leave Daj like that.”

“I hate to say it, but we need help.” Sunset scratched the back of her neck, embarrassed despite it all. “We have to at least call this in so Mom and the others know what’s up.”

Applejack nodded. “You sit tight and do that. I’m gonna run up and try to drag Adagio’s dumb ass back here. I figure I’ll be okay so long as I don’t look at Miss Titty.”

“That seems like a really bad idea,” Sunset groaned.

“Which is why you’re calling for help in case I get the stupids.” Applejack gave her a quick pat on the shoulder and swung over the wall. Nice and easy stride, stetson tipped low on her brow. She locked onto Adagio’s lower half and walked over to lay a hand on her shoulder.

Faster than the eye, Adagio’s right foot hooked behind Applejack’s and kicked. Applejack landed back-first on the ground, hat flying and her mind aware that she dun goofed.

“Vignette! Vignette!” Adagio called upwards. “This is one of the monster hunters, and the other is behind that wall!”

Applejack grit her teeth as Vignette descended. Squared her courage and stolidly reminded herself that two yellow hotties in her life was plenty. She wasn’t the best girlfriend, but she wasn’t no low-down cheater.

She stood, glaring daggers into Vignette’s breasts. She locked a fist and swung heavily, going right for her pretty little face.

Somehow, the hand slowed as it drew near. Applejack couldn’t help it, it was instinct. The natural, right motion, settling down to grope gently at the glowing orbs.

Vignette winked, and Applejack trembled at the knees. She had to get a picture. She grabbed for her phone, but it was too late – Vignette had already taken off back the way she came. Applejack gave chase, alongside Adagio and all the others.

The hypnosis worked best with surprise. The redhead behind the wall fell easiest of all – a shocked gasp, eyes on the glowing breasts, and then the pictures start snapping. This girl was lucky, already with her phone out and at the ready.

Vignette Valencia laughed cruelly behind her hand, and the human dupes cheered. Honestly, she could act like a dog and they’d still be in love. A horde of willing slaves, just waiting to be drained of life. Right after they shared her fame to all their social media friends, of course.

She was still laughing, right up to the point a metal bat hit her square in the stomach. Breath left her in an “Oof!” and she doubled over.

The damn thing was silver. She felt woozy and sick, and was still hunched over when the second blow hit the back of her head. Vignette went down, groaning as the holy metal began sapping her tie to this world.

Her boob lights began flickering – Vignette slapped them, and they stayed on. For now. She rolled over, bathing her aggressor in their glow.

It was a small, green girl in a stained white T-shirt. She looked scared, but the baseball bat was still held ready in her hands.

“Stop!” Vignette screamed. The bat came down again. This time as more of a hard bump as the girl hesitated, but the silver still did its work.

“Get her!” she cried, but her dupes just kept snapping pictures.

“I’m hard to see on a good day,” Wallflower mumbled. “And they only have eyes for you, so I think it’s like that doubled. Or something.”

She brought down the bat again, this time on one of the breasts. It squished and deflated with a noise like a pin-pricked balloon.

Vignette snarled, showing razor teeth entirely out of place on a human. Yet she could do nothing else as the bat nudged her once again. Ethereal mist encroached on her vision – the first sign of her being yanked from the Earth.

“You can’t take me out for good,” she growled. “All you can do is banish me for a time. I shall returOW!”

This blow came down harder, and right on her head.

“Oh, good,” Wallflower said, perking up a little. “I think I’d really lose it if I ever had to kill someone.”

Vignette howled, though the noise became distant in her ears. “Damn you, why!? How!? I’m a succubus for Discord’s sake, I’m the sexiest thing in the universe! How can you resist my power?”

The bat swung one more time. It was enough.

“I’m asexual,” Wallflower said. “I literally don’t give a fuck.”

“The opening of Equestria Land was marred today by a currently-unknown social media influencer who instigated a flash mob as a publicity stunt. No injuries were reported, and strangely all photos of the event had heavy sun glare due to the time and location. The day went smoothly aside from that, and Equestria Land can continue to expect both local and traveling crowds throughout the summer. Mayor Ma’am further clarified any claims of ‘monsters’ were very silly and that–”

Sunset clicked off the radio.

A fun day, aside from that terrifying (albeit sexy) fifteen-odd minutes. The group just did not have the cash to make Equestria Land a routine affair, so they made sure to get their money’s worth. In the park when it opened at eight, out the minute it closed. Time in the sun had given them all fresh tans and a sense of contented exhaustion.

Sunset glanced in the mirror. Applejack and Adagio both sat in the back, dozing with their fingers interlocked. So was Twilight in the seat to her right. Wallflower… well. Wallflower shared her seat with a giant stuffed penguin, manatee, and Shetland pony, so it was kind of hard to see.

“You okay back there, Wallflower?”

“You bet!” Sunset saw her grin beneath the pile. “Thanks for winning all these for me!”

“You earned it,” Sunset said. Those prizes had taken combined efforts and too much money, but such was worth it for that smile.

Author's Notes:

(In case you haven't seen it, Vignette Valencia is from the Rollercoaster of Friendship special.)

(And yes, the theme park in that episode is called Equestria Land.)

Idea suggested by Enclave2277. It was a good one! And credit to Ice Star for letting me steal the “I’m asexual, I literally don’t give a fuck” line.

Feel free to drop off any chapter suggestions via the link here. And thank you for reading!

A Monster in the Bedroom (slice-of-life, innuendo)

The alarm on Sunset’s phone took five rings to hammer her into a state that could only charitably be called “awake.” She fumbled for it with leaden limbs, knocked it from her nightstand, and screamed silently into her pillow as the alarm continued blaring from the ground.

At least the noise forced her to move. Sunset dragged herself from bed and hoisted the phone up to glare blearily at its clock.

8:00 A.M. Celestia damn it.

“Oh, she sure did,” Sunset garbled out, unable to even register her own joke. She stumbled from her room, too tired to yawn, and began shuffling towards the kitchen. Only when she fully reached it did her congested nose and addled mind pick up the merciful scent of coffee.

Aunt Luna sat at the table, swaying listlessly, baggy eyes staring past Sunset for a few seconds before they blinked and focused.

“Morning.”

“Unk.” Sunset slouched past, scratching her belly. She grabbed a mug, filled it from the mercifully fresh coffee pot, and took a drink. It scalded her tongue, but that was a welcome sensation.

“Hey, give Auntie a refill.”

Sunset complied, bringing the pot over to top off Luna’s mug. She replaced it on the burner and sat down with a lethargic groan.

Luna chuckled, earning as strong a glare as Sunset could manage. The blue woman sipped at her coffee, one eyebrow raised with good humor. “As an insomniac, I’m curious: was this your first sleepless night?”

“I don’t even know,” Sunset groaned. “They were at it til like two; I think maybe I dozed a little bit until they picked back up at four. I don’t really know if my alarm woke me or if I just spent the night in a weird fugue state.”

The coffee helped, barely. At least it got her thoughts in order. “We should say something.”

“Nope.”

“Aunt Luna, I’m happy to be home over the summer, I really am. And I’m super happy Mom has a boyfriend who...”

Sunset sighed lowly and went on. “Pleases her. But I really didn’t need to know she is a screamer who can scream all night long.”

“It’s all that jogging she does,” Luna said, grinning into Sunset’s scowl. “Good cardio. What was your favorite part?”

“Not when they slammed the headboard hard enough to knock off my lamp.”

Luna went on cheerfully. “Mine’s when she told Torch to ‘break me in effing half,’ those exact words. Tia’s so much of a prude that she can’t even swear during sex.”

“So I heard,” Sunset grumbled. “Luna, what if he moves in? I can’t keep this up, we need to say something.”

“Nope.”

Sunset gave a grunt, setting down her mug. “Just to keep it down, you know? She’ll listen.”

“She will,” Luna agreed. She sipped and swallowed, a more serious expression gathering on her face. “And that’s why we can’t say anything.”

Sunset looked at her expectantly. Luna smiled, resting her chin in one hand. “She’ll be embarrassed, she’ll hate that she disturbed us, and she’ll either tone it way down or abort liaisons at our house altogether. Because that’s how she is. She lives for other people. She spent ten years taking care of me because I would’ve crashed and burned on my own, then she adopted a ‘bad kid’ she learned was homeless. She goes to work every day to give ungrateful students the best chance she can with the budget the politicians give her, then spends her weekends saving innocents from horrors beyond human ken.”

“Torch makes her happy. And not in her usual pleasantly-smiling I’m-happy-because-you’re-happy kind of way. For the first time in her life she’s doing something for herself, and watching this unfold has been downright magical. We can trade bedrooms if you want, maybe sleeping upstairs will make things a little easier. Maybe listen to music or something. But I will die on this hill, and so should you.”

The shower began running in their bathroom. Water hit and dispersed around a massive body, creating an odd noise of pattering rain.

A melodic hum carried to the kitchen, heralding Celestia’s arrival. She stepped out in pajamas far too clean to have been worn last night, wrapped in her pink bathrobe and beaming without one hint of exhaustion.

“Good morning!” Her pink eyes found Sunset’s. “And good to have you. How was your first night home?”

Sunset laughed, but did not even hesitate. Luna was right. “Little rough. Just gotta get used to my own bed again.”

“Maybe breakfast will help,” Celestia mused, gliding to the stove. “I’m in a blueberry pancakes kind of mood. What do you think?”

Blueberry pancakes were Sunset’s favorite. A high, happy little noise squeaked in her throat, and she rose to help with the cooking. They bickered pleasantly as they often did, with Celestia trying to shoo Sunset away from the chores while Sunset helped anyway.

Sunset’s gaze caught Luna as she reached for the baking mix – still at the table, sipping coffee with just the tiniest air of victory. Sunset flashed her a grin, then turned with her prize to Celestia.

“Hey, Mom? I’m making a run to the gun store today, do you need anything?”

Celestia pondered a second, humming as she cracked eggs into a bowl before shaking her head. “I think we’re stocked. What do you need?”

“Ear plugs.” Sunset’s eyes slid over, and now found Luna’s looking back. “I want to change brands, find something a little more discreet and comfortable.”

Luna gave a silky smile and said nothing. Celestia nodded along. “Do you want a ride? It’s near that Japanese place you like, we can get lunch on our way back.”

“Nah, I don’t want to take you from Torch.”

“Oh, Sweetie.” Celestia turned, accepting the baking mix and planting a surprise kiss on top of Sunset’s head. “Torch may soon join the family, but you’re already here.”

“Hey, pick me up a set of whatever ear plugs you get,” Luna called over to Sunset, her eyes twinkling. “Mine are starting to chafe.”

Batter and blueberries hit the pan, soon to be the first of many pancakes. Three people became four as Torch joined them, and the house buzzed with antics and laughter with not a monster in sight.

Author's Notes:

Not specifically requested by anyone, but in comments several people expressed a desire for more Torch and/or low-key family slice-of-life.

Also, check out my new cover-art! Courtesy of Night-Quill

Feel free to drop off any chapter suggestions via the link here. And thank you for reading!

Fast Times at Friendship High (slice-of-life, Equestria)

The School of Friendship – the grand project of Equestria’s youngest princess. A place for children of all races to gather and share perspectives and ideas with each other, thence to take those lessons home so the whole world might become united in genuine peace and harmony. Less publicly, it is also a place for those who once sowed discord to understand and be understood, guided by faculty gently to the light of friendship.

It is a high school all the same, with all that entails.

The last bell rang and the students eagerly began snatching up their books, except for a certain blue-green changeling who did so with a resigned pout. Cliques formed as they did in any school, and one particular group loitered as they rallied in the halls.

“Friday night, my dudes!” Smolder flapped her wings, joyfully stretching them after an eternity in the classroom. “And the weather is finally getting hot, or at least what passes for it around here. Let’s do something cool.”

Their local griffon twitched uncomfortably, flicking sweat from his chest-floof. “‘Cool.’ Yes, let’s do something nice and cooling.”

“Yona agrees.” They started walking, Yona leaving behind a carpet of shed hairs. “Maybe Yona and friends go for swim?”

Sandbar trotted beside her, trying to smile encouragingly while avoiding her scratchy, sweaty coat. “It’s still spring, you know it’ll cool off this evening.”

He gave a weak chuckle, changing the subject with only an attempt at subtlety. “And, uh, speaking of cool, guess who didn’t show up this afternoon?”

Ocellus’ Friday-night pout grew confused. “I still don’t understand. Why would anyone ever want to cut class?”

Gallus and Smolder shared a look before the latter spoke. “Sometimes you just need a break, you know?”

The scrawny changeling sent her a blue-eyed stare of fearful betrayal, and Smolder quickly amended. “Sometimes they need a break, is what I meant. They probably get their own curriculum, being reformed villains and all.”

“If they even are reformed,” Silverstream mumbled. “The sirens came and left before my people took to the water, but we have plenty of stories and all of them are bad.”

Sandbar switched his cajoling smile onto his hippogriff friend. “Come on, Silvy, they’re cool now.”

“‘Cool’ doesn’t mean ‘good.’” Ocellus noted. If she had glasses, she would have pushed them up.

The hall turned, and the subjects of discussion came to sight. Aria Blaze and Sonata Dusk – siren students, entered as part of Princess Twilight’s villain reform program. Devoid of their powers, their monstrous forms were lost for the less panic-inducing appearance of earth ponies with sharp teeth and gills. Early wheedling had given them a clothing budget which they cheerfully abused: both favored black leather with spiked hoof-cuffs and collars.

Sandbar stiffened and swaggered as his group approached. So did Gallus and Smolder, though they would have denied it.

“Dudes, I want them to think I’m cool,” Sandbar whispered urgently as he strutted on ahead.

“Why?” Ocellus asked.

“Just back me up.” Sandbar approached the sirens’ bored gossip and gave a meaningful cough.

They gave no sign of having heard, so he coughed louder. They looked to him, and he raised up on his hind legs with a mighty “WHAZAAAAAAAAAAAP?!!”

Aria rolled her blue-shadowed eyes and opened her mouth, but the eyes flew wide as an even louder “WHAZAAAAAAAAAAAAP?!!” rang out from Sonata. The younger siren grinned, mimicking the pose.

Sandbar landed, chuckling and a little unsure what to do now. “Uh… what’s down, cool cats?”

Aria smacked her forehead at roughly the same time Gallus did. Smolder joined in when Silverstream loudly asked where the kitties were.

“Just chilling,” Sonata mused. “We gave ourselves the afternoon off for good behavior.”

“Does it work like that?” Yona whispered.

Ocellus pursed her lips. “No. It does not.”

“It does if you’re smart about it,” Aria said, letting a tight smirk come to her face. “The catch is to be there when Miss Trixie takes roll call, and then slip out at the right moment. Once she gets babbling, the place could burn down around her and she wouldn’t notice. She even talks with her eyes closed most of the time.”

Gallus cocked his head. “Huh… yeah, good thinking.”

He nodded, puffing out his chest a little as Aria’s eyes moved over to him.

Smolder gave a snort. “Whatever. It takes more than that for me to think you’re cool.”

Sonata grinned. “We spent the time skateboarding.”

Smolder folded her arms.

“In the school hallway.”

The young dragon sucked in a hard breath, then gave a very tight nod. “Okay, yeah. You two are cool.”

“You all aren’t too bad either,” Sonata said with a silky turn to her voice. “We got us a little plan for this evening, and you guys are invited.”

“Really?” Sandbar asked with stars in his eyes.

Sonata caught him with a wink. “Totally.”

“Yeah, we love guys who are easy to manipulate.” Aria flicked back her pigtails. “We scored ourselves some… ‘modified’ wagon licenses that say we’re over twenty-one. We’re going to use them to get into an R-rated movie.”

Sandbar let out a nervous whinny and leaned backwards. “You guys are gonna get in trouble if you get caught.”

Sonata prowled to one side of him, letting her tail swish across his leg. “You mean if ‘we’ get caught.”

Aria did the same alongside Smolder. “You don’t have to. If you’re scared, that’s fine.”

Smolder made a show of rolling her eyes. “Scared? P’shaw, not me. I’m in.”

“Same!” Gallus squawked, puffing his chest as hard as he could.

Sandbar stuttered his agreement. The sirens exchanged a subtle nod and turned to the holdouts.

“Yona, was it?” Sonata cooed, curling her tail around Sandbar’s. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Yona stumbled with her words, fretting nervously until she noticed their tails. Her face immediately fell to a stoic glower and a word as heavy as her stomp. “Fine.”

“Fun sounds… fun,” Silverstream said weakly. A nervous chuckle fled her lips that only grew with the grins of expectation from her friends.

Only Ocellus remained, and the shy changeling trembled at the prospect of challenging so many at once. Still, she gave it a go while studiously looking to the ground. “T-Those ratings are there for a reason. There are some things creatures our age shouldn’t be exposed to.”

The sirens sidled up to her, one on each side with Aria taking the lead. “But think of how advanced you’ll be for learning those things before your peers.”

Ocellus’ gossamer ears flicked up at the L-word, and Sonata followed. “Come on! All your friends are going. You want them to think you’re cool, don’t you?”

Ocellus didn’t look up as she mumbled her capitulation. The eight creatures strode from the Friendship School, laughing and chatting with various degrees of enthusiasm as they made their way to the theater.

“Eight tickets to Naughty Pegasus Pool Party 3, if you please.”

Sonata peered over the top of her sunglasses at the pimple-faced stallion manning the ticket booth. He looked down to his workbook with a bored expression, then back to her. “Identifications?”

The sirens hoofed over their wagon licenses with winning smiles.

“Whoa!” He reared back a little upon reading the cards, then passed them back. “Yeah, wow. You two are definitely old enough to watch the movie. Wow. I mean, by like a thousand years, holy cow.”

The sirens stopped smiling, and the worker waved to the other students. “Next!”

“They’re with us,” Aria clarified.

The worker shook his head. “Ma’am, unless they’re old enough too, there is no way they can see an R-rated movie. Not without their parents’ consent.”

Aria grunted. The other students began milling backwards, but Sonata froze in place.

“Yes. Of course.” She said in a shrill voice, then swallowed and grew casual once more. “But. That is fine. Because we are their parents.”

She reached a hoof around and pulled the other siren close. “Aria and I. Are their parents.”

The worker’s eyes moved to the students and back. “A couple of thousand year-old fish ponies are the parents of a yak, a hippogriff, a changeling, a dragon, a griffon, and a pony who grew up around here?”

“Yes.” Sonata said woodenly. “That is exactly correct.”

The stallion stared.

Sonata stared back.

“They are adopted,” Aria clarified while sliding across a fifty-bit coin.

The coin vanished with a speed that should have been impossible for an earth pony stallion. “Eight tickets for the happy family, coming right up.”

The theater was dark, but everyone could hear the crush and snap as Ocellus hyperventilated into a paper bag. “I can’t believe we lied to an authority figure.”

“He was the ticket seller,” Aria grumbled.

Ocellus only breathed faster. “He was entrusted with enforcing government regulations.”

“Mom, can we buy some popcorn?”

“Silverstream, we got the tickets. You can drop the act.”

“Lock tails with Sandbar again and Yona will smash you.”

Sonata turned to the yak behind her. “What?”

“Yona said thank you for letting her have aisle seat. Yona needs space.”

Having spent years as a human, Aria tried to grip her soda cup with hooves before Gallus helpfully reached over and held it steady for her. The lights dimmed, and the tittering, nervous students fell silent as two hours of adult pony entertainment began.

Honestly, neither siren had ever been to a pony film. Such had been invented long after their banishment, and they had not sought one out since their regulated return.

Aria settled back to watch. Naughty Pegasus Pool Party proved vapid and tame at first as young pegasi pranked each other from one antic to the next. Sure they were naked in the pool, but… you know. Ponies. Still, Aria watched with interest, wondering when the movie would start to earn its adults-only rating.

At one particular point, a low murmur went through the crowd. Sandbar giggled fearfully while Ocellus and Silverstream covered each other’s eyes.

Aria blinked, not understanding at all. All that happened on-screen was a fit young mare putting on a swimsuit.

And nothing else. The sirens’ distant curiosity turned to boredom as cuddly love pairings turned to triangles, then non-Euclidean shapes as the brain-dead characters flirted, panicked, and misunderstood from one partner to the next. More pegasi donned swimsuits, and things began coming to a head as the main male and female leads finally confronted the friend who tried to keep them apart.

The mares scuffled, ripping each other’s swimsuits. Smoke flew out as Smolder gasped. Gallus began pressing a tissue to his beak. An indignant pony stormed from the middle seats, grumbling something about the wrath of Celestia.

“Why’d you do this, Butterball?!” the lead mare finally screamed. “I mean, seriously! What the–”

The whole theater gasped.

“HELL?!”

“That does it!” another pony stood straight up and began marching to the door. He wasn’t the only one. “How can they put this in a movie? I’m writing the mayor!”

“And Ponyville has become a home for other creatures, too! Ambassadors and such. They’ll think we’re all savages!”

Ocellus clutched Silverstream, bawling. “I’ll never be pure again!”

Smolder closed her arms tightly. “Putting swear words in a movie, what were they thinking?”

“My mom’s gonna kill me,” Sandbar whimpered.

Chaos continued to drown out the movie, and the sirens could only stare in blank confusion.

Abruptly, Aria slapped her face with a hoof. “Oh, right… Equestria.”

“…The hay are you kids doing here?”

The eight students paused their myriad discomforts to look where the voice had come, three rows below them. Applejack and Rarity stared back with expressions of surprise that slowly morphed to that of their sternest lectures.

“You ain’t supposed to be here,” Applejack said. “We’re gonna need to–”

Aria chucked her popcorn tub at the teachers. “Dudes! Run!”

Rarity set up a wail as greasy kernels found her mane. “No don’t rEEK!”

Sonata followed the attack with her soda cup and began sprinting along with the others, heedless of Applejack’s shout from behind. “Consarn it, you ain’t getting away! Especially you two, I’m calling your mother!”

Shining light of hope that it was… the Friendship School was still a school. Awkward parent-principal conferences were a fact of life.

Twilight Sparkle could not help but try to sugarcoat things. She offered their guest a mug of hot chocolate, but her smile grew pained as the newcomer fumbled it with unfamiliar hooves.

Starlight was a little better with these kinds of things, albeit not by much. She toyed with a desk ornament, keeping her own smile firm and positive. “Thank you for coming. I understand there are… transportation issues. And the whole, ‘changing species’ thing. How are you doing?”

Adagio Dazzle shrugged, awkwardly setting down the empty mug sideways with her hooves. “Honestly, the weirdest part is not being able to take out my phone every fifteen seconds. But let’s cut to it. I got the letter. Anything to add?”

“Not really,” Twilight said. “I’d like to hear your take. We all want your sisters to be able to live with other beings in peace, and I definitely know by now not every villain just needs love and forgiveness to mend their ways. But this is only the latest… ‘incident’ and I’m getting worried.”

Adagio laughed abruptly. “God, it’s weird sitting around a table with you. The last time we met was the Battle of the freaking Bands, and that was like a million years ago.”

“But, like…” she fumbled with her thoughts, squinting and rallying. “That’s kind of where I’m looking at this from. Five years ago we were trying to ravage that world so we could break into this one. I could talk about the history and line of thinking that made us do that, but I’m not gonna claim it was anything but evil. These days, though, they’re busy sneaking into R-rated movies and putting laxatives in the school counselor’s coffee.”

“Hot chocolate,” Starlight corrected, wincing and clenching a little in memory.

Adagio moved her hooves like they were balancing something. “Isn’t that just a world of difference? You said it yourself, not everyone’s down with a hug and pat on the head. Their worldview needs changing, and I think it is. The old us would never have bothered dragging kids along with our schemes, and we definitely wouldn’t have accepted any kind of authority at all. They’re not being bad villains, they’re being bad kids. That comes with a way smaller body count.”

“And its own share of questions,” Starlight said. “You all are over a thousand years old. How can those two be so juvenile?”

“I might’ve hopped on the good-guy train earlier, but I’m not much more mature.” Adagio shrugged. “My guess? We never grew up. We knew how to take everything we wanted or needed and never made friends with anyone else, so all the usual little things about ‘growing up’ never happened to us. We were spoiled, super-powered brats until the Band Battle happened and all of a sudden we needed groceries and tampons.”

She looked out the window, and the others followed her gaze. The sirens chased each other in the school pond, mischievously flicking water at those who wandered near until a panting, yak-sized projectile hurled herself in alongside them. A few of Yona’s friends had also gathered, with extra ice treats to share.

“Isn’t this okay?” Adagio mused. “They’re boundary-pushing, goth-phase little twerps with no idea where their lives are going. Let them be that, while they figure out the rest.”

“They still have super-detention for that stunt at the movies,” Twilight said primly. But she softened, and traded a wry glance with Starlight. “Maybe… maybe we should make it clear it’s because they pressured others into it. A little learning experience, that there are ways they can express themselves without hurting others.”

Adagio shrugged, and flicked back her curls. “Whatever you say, Principal. All that psychology and reformation stuff is your department.”

“And you have your own, on the other side.” Twilight sighed, but gave her a pleasant smile. “You made a good point, and I won’t keep you longer. Do you want to visit them while you’re here?”

Outside, Sonata had crammed three popsicles in her mouth and now flopped on the ground clutching her head, ministered by a sympathetic Ocellus. Aria lounged at the water’s edge and chatted with the others.

“Nah, I don’t want to interrupt.”

“They won’t think you’re interrupting,” Starlight said.

“Okay, fine,” Adagio grumbled. “Just for a little while.”

“She has a nice smile,” Twilight stage-whispered to Starlight.

“I’m not smiling! Geez.” But Adagio laughed as she said it, and sauntered from the office. The ponies watched through the window, grinning with quiet joy as she approached the students.

Their expressions faltered a little as Adagio threw Sonata back into the pond, then dunked Aria’s head beneath the water. But as the sirens fought back, their laughter could be heard from inside.

Author's Notes:

Suggested by FanOfMostEverything and Ice Star.

Everything will be fine, I'm sure.

Feel free to drop off any chapter suggestions via the link here. And thank you for reading!

Macho Women with Guns (monster-of-the-week, extra-thick cheesecake)

The clock in Applejack’s pickup truck had broken years ago. “Twilight, what time is it?”

Twilight uncurled herself in the shotgun seat enough to pull out her phone. “Eleven-twenty.” Then, “Forty minutes to midnight. We have time.”

“Enough to get any backup?”

Twilight shrugged. Applejack grunted, “Yeah, I didn’t figure. Son of a biscuit, usually I can handle late nights but I’ve been working the orchard all day.”

She heaved a deep, barrel-chested yawn. Twilight fiddled in her lab coat’s pockets and pulled out a tiny bottle that she handed off. “Drink this.”

Applejack frowned, though blinked a few extra times as she studied it. “Twilight, I don’t want no crazy chemical hoo-ha going in my body.”

“It’s just berry-flavored Powerthirst.”

“Right, what did I say?” Applejack grumbled. But now wasn’t the time to be choosy. She took the drink and downed it in one go, feeling her face twist as ungodly amounts of caffeine hit her all at once.

She opened the door and stepped solidly onto the pavement. If something beastly wanted to fight now, this was a fine place to do it. Empty parking lot, full moon, and revolver at her hip. An old wooden sign announced “Path to Midnight Castle,” with an arrow pointing to a marginally-less overgrown spat of trees. Given how the Everfree worked, it was even-money whether it would actually take her to the place. Granny Smith used to tell stories about how some trees here could shift around and had a powerful grudge against humans, and Applejack believed her even before all this hunting business began.

No point fretting it. No attack in the parking lot either, so Applejack busied herself hauling out an old wooden box. “Got any mad science to help us along?”

Twilight guiltily tapped her nails together, looking down. “No… this caught me off-guard. Honestly it’s a minor miracle I thought to check my tracking app before bed and see Sunset and Adagio were here.”

“Tracking app?”

Less-guiltily, Twilight shrugged. “Oh, those cupcakes I brought last week had transmitters in them. I figured it’d be useful in case anyone ever got kidnapped.”

Applejack opened her mouth to protest, then settled for a glower. “Girl, we gotta talk about scientific consent one of these days.”

“Success justifies obfuscation,” Twilight said, quite certain of herself. “Applejack, it’s worse than all that. Midnight Castle sits directly on the crossed ley lines that make Canterlot so interesting, and it was founded by an old Utopian society which jumped head-first into being a cult. According to my astronomy tracker, come midnight the moon will be closer to us now than any time in the last hundred years. I don’t know what’s going on and I wish I did, but Sunset and Adagio are in the middle of something bad.”

“I hear ya,” Applejack called. Only problem was she wasn’t ready for trouble, either. Only by good luck had she left Granny’s grandpa’s old coach shotgun in the car. Opening the case gave her a first good look at it – old, but oiled, with two barrels sawed-off as short as they could go.

They searched the glove compartment and cushions, finding a handful of revolver bullets and four right-sized shells. It would have to do.

“Stay here and call the others,” Applejack said.

“Wait, actually I do have something. It’s not much, but...” Twilight produced and handed over a sealed plastic baggy holding a translucent dust. “Adagio asked me to make some itching powder. Maybe it’ll help.”

“The Sam Hell did she want that for?”

Twilight opened her mouth.

Then closed it. “She didn’t say.”

Applejack gave a short chuckle and slipped the bag into her jeans. “A prank, got it.”

Twilight opened her mouth again.

Then closed it, blushing faintly. “Probably that, yes.”

“Right, see ya on the backswing.” The spare shells went in Applejack’s pocket. Nothing else for it – she swept the hat onto her head and followed the path. Trees blocked the moon as soon as she stepped from the parking lot, leaving her with nothing but thin shadows to show the way.

...Leaving Twilight was the right choice. If there was a fight (and there always was a fight), it would be hard enough without having to look after an unarmed girl. Hard enough without her usual gear: pump-action, silver shells, and well-equipped friends.

Applejack held the sawed-off with two hands. No time to be a cowboy about this, not with her friends (her girlfriends) at stake. No time to be scared of the dark and quiet forest, though she was scared all the same. The dark always made her a little nervous, and she didn’t like being alone on a good day. She needed someone to talk to, someone to protect. Was just a scared redneck without them.

It hit her in a rush that she’s never done this on her own before. She wanted to move real quiet, to cover every noise and chitter these creepy woods gave out for her.

No time. If bad news really was coming at midnight, she had to hustle. So she hustled, making tracks as quick as the meager light allowed. Branches plucked at her sleeves, and she wondered if the trees were watching.

“Beg pardon,” Applejack said, feeling stupid for it. “Just coming for my friends, we’ll be leaving right after.”

The path seemed a little more clear after that, lit by a little more moonlight. Applejack had the sense to realize this was probably because the path close to the castle had been better developed. Probably. Yet while the light around her grew, the space beyond seemed blacker than ever. The path widened into a clearing, then… nothing. Not even the shadows of trees.

Then a passing cloud moved from the tremendous full moon, and the pitch darkness revealed itself as Midnight Castle – a four-story edifice of gargoyles and black stone. More a mansion than a true castle, but plenty imposing on its own.

Applejack saw the skeleton approach her from across the clearing. It could be nothing else – white bones glistened in the moonlight, in stark contrast to the black manor behind it. Blue flames blazed within its eye sockets, and it impossibly held a medieval broadsword in fleshless hands.

She thought about the revolver, then grimaced. Probably no good against such a thing.

So it goes. She let it advance close enough to start raising its sword for the charge, then fired the shotgun directly at its skull. The flames vanished along with the head, and it toppled to the ground.

Three shells left. Couldn’t keep that up. More bony forms began approaching, coming in from their perimeter around the castle.

She put the shotgun in its sling and picked up the broadsword. A heavy, two-handed thing, build to smash as well as cut. Perfect for a girl her size. Applejack didn’t consider herself a swordsman by any stretch, but Limestone taught her the basics a few years back. Hopefully the skeletons weren’t any better.

Applejack took a few practice swings, counting a dozen on their way in. It’d be over in seconds if she let them gather.

So she grit her teeth and charged right at the closest one. The broadsword arced towards it in a wide, clumsy swing, but it was enough. The head went up, and the eyes went dark.

Applejack sprinted down the line, cutting down three more one-by-one. They seemed to have no reflexes for defense, and so when charged only thought to raise their own swings too late.

A fifth, a sixth. Applejack panted, catching her breath as she turned back to the others. The remaining skeletons had coagulated into a mob, headed by one with a raised metal shield.

Still too many. She jammed the sword into the ground (Limestone would have screamed at her) and drew out the shotgun. Another precious shell blasted into the skeletons, dropping two. Applejack grabbed the sword and charged once more, yet had to veer off the blow to avoid impaling herself on a spear. She turned to parry another strike, then ducked fast enough to lose her hat as the shield-armed skeleton swung high with a battle axe.

Parted hairs came down behind her as Applejack back-stepped, barely keeping out of their reach. They were slower than her, but that hardly mattered facing four at once.

“Come on, girl,” she growled, giving more and more ground. No way to tell if one was creeping behind her, or where each step was going. She moved to strike, but that dang spear was ready again, with plenty of blades there to catch her if she dodged.

She needed an edge. Her eyes cast about in vain. She had to make one herself.

What did she have? Strength. Brains. With her long arms and long sword, she had reach on everything but the spear.

Speed, too, though you wouldn’t think it to look at her. Everything from climbing ladders to wrestling pigs had given Applejack a quick spring on her long legs. She stepped fast to the side, putting other skeletons between her and the spear, then swung as far and long as she could. The tip of the sword caught one of them in the face, smashing it apart and sending the bones tumbling. She stepped back just as quickly, avoiding retaliation.

Three left. She chanced drawing her revolver and fired, but all it did was break a rib. Bit trickier to weave in and out now that the last two were covered by the spear.

Inspiration struck. “Hell with it.”

Applejack swung hard for the spear, knocking it wide enough to stumble into the shielded skeleton. She reversed her swing, piling inwards and lopping one’s top from its legs. The spear-armed skeleton drew back and she pursued, staying too close for it to stab her as she slashed through its spine.

The plan, desperate as it was, had been to use that slash to either block or force back the last foe. Her sword met the axe, but the frantic swing left it clumsy in her hands and it clattered to the ground. Applejack followed it, rolling desperately as the axe came down. No contact, though it ripped a fair part of her shirt.

No time to stand or grab the sword. Applejack propelled herself at the skeleton’s legs, knocking it down with her. One strong hand seized the axe-arm below the elbow and pulled, bringing the thing face-first into her clenched fist. The head went flying, and the body went still.

Applejack clambered upright in a panic, but a quick glance showed she was alone once more. A few good gasps returned her breath. She reloaded her shotgun and picked up the sword, though frowned as the ripped shirt caught at her arms.

Couldn’t get a good swing like that. Applejack slid what was left of it over her head and tossed it to the side. Nothing left for defense but a sports bra and girl abs, but it ain’t like cotton would stop a broadsword anyway.

She retrieved her hat, feeling as much as looking in the suddenly-dim moonlight for damage. Maybe another cloud was over it.

…Maybe something else. A chill went down her back. The black around her was deepening, as if the moon no longer shared its light. It still hung white and selfish in the sky, with an illusory face upon it somehow taking the image of a skull.

The voice came, low and feminine. “Child of light, prepare for darkness.”

It came from the castle, but from all over the castle. The black of its stone seemed to be pooling out to the air.

Applejack set the hat on her head. She found a sheath on one of the skeletons and strapped it to her back, though kept the sword in hand.

“Just here to get my friends,” Applejack called out, turning squarely face the castle’s heavy wooden doors. “And I guess save the world, if that’s about to be a thing.”

Dry grass crunched under her boots as she walked forwards. The voice gave a harsh laugh. “Worry not, for the world shall now be saved from the tyranny of day! Darkness shall rise, and the night will last f–”

“Lady, I ain’t in the mood,” Applejack growled. She turned the doorknobs, then yelped as the stone beneath her instantly gave way. Her fingers clutched at the trapdoor’s edge too late, only scraping them as she tumbled down a metal slide deep into the bowels of the castle.

She landed hard on cold cobblestone at the end of it all, dizzy and bruised and mercifully unimpaled by her own sword. Strange blue torches gave illumination as she staggered to her feet, and the debris of bones crumbled beneath.

A mausoleum. An old and ill-kept one at that, with skeletons sprawled from where they had once lain in state.

…A very, very large mausoleum. Alcoves stretched into the distance with no clear way out.

“How good of you, to save us the trouble of your own disposal!” The voice cheered, and an unsteady clattering filled the room as the bones of a hundred corpses began to move. “Your flesh shall feed the glorious Nightmare, and whatever remains shall serve her in death.”

Blue flames lit in every skeleton’s eyes, and they raised as one to face the intruder.

Applejack planted her feet and readied the sword.

The necromancer would have been quite short had she not worn both heels and an elaborate headdress made to look like a raven. She twirled, casting a deep blue cape in her wake and gesturing grandly as she spoke. “…And now, the Midnight Society at last reaches its perfection! With all in place at this holy hour, the Nightmare shall rise and the night will last forever! An age of dreamers and sin; a perfect republic with our queen at its head, and her loyal servants ruling above the masses. An age of–”

“Take a FUCKING breath, lady!”

After a full hour of being literal captive audience to the monologue, Sunset was done. She heaved, glaring defiantly at the necromancer.

A slight chuckle to her side made her snap again. “Adagio, we are about to die. Take this seriously.”

Adagio shrugged as well as her chains allowed. Both girls were bound hand and foot, but only tightly enough to force them to a kneeling position within a carved symbol of doubtless-terrible implications. It was elevated perhaps a foot from the ground, in some old ballroom brightly lit from a massive window showing the full moon.

…Also, while they were unconscious the necromancer apparently swapped out their clothes for skimpy chainmail bikinis.

“Think positive,” Adagio said. “Maybe she’s not gonna kill us.”

“I’m going to kill you,” the necromancer clarified.

“Oh come on, why?” Adagio wheedled. “It’s not like we’re virgins anymore.”

The necromancer arched her beaked nose regally. “It is said that in brightest moon and darkest night, we shall offer two girls with skin like the sun and slaughter them like pigs, thereby feeding the ascendency of the–”

Sunset’s face twisted so hard it hurt. “Wait! Wait… wait.”

A pause, and she unleashed it with all the evening’s frustration behind her. “This is about our skin color?”

“Wow,” Adagio said with as much disapproval as could fit. She only deigned to glance sidelong at their captor. “Just, wow. Even among cultists, huh?”

“H…hey, it’s not like that!” The necromancer screeched. “I’m not like that! It’s the prophecy, that’s all. ‘With skin like the sun, their blood shall–’”

“‘It’s the prophecy,’” Adagio repeated in a droll tone, making air-quotes with her fingers.

“Okay, you know what?” The necromancer snatched out a curved dagger from her robes. “It’s basically midnight. Time to die.”

Sunset grit her teeth as the woman approached. Adagio blew a few curls from her face.

And then the doors flew open with a sound that could only be leather boots onto oak. Errant bones and bone shards flew into the room as the kicker lowered her foot.

It was Applejack, but not quite the same Applejack the others had ever seen. The hat was there, and the long hair was tied back into a simple ponytail. A cut ran across the homely freckles of the left cheek. The natural joy of her mouth and eyes were dimmed with exhaustion and exasperation. Her knuckles were dusty and bruised from many punches, and the sword in her hand was bent and notched. Sweat glistened across her abs and bare arms, and a few close calls had shredded her denim pants into shorts that were well on their way to becoming underwear.

“Oh, save us, Applejack!” Adagio abruptly and unconvincingly screamed, writhing sensually in her loose chainmail bikini.

Applejack drew her pistol and aimed to the necromancer. “Hands up.”

The woman hesitated, seeming to judge her knife against the gun before dropping it to the ground and raising her arms.

“Little anticlimactic, but hey.” Applejack strode towards the others. Her eyes dropped to their breasts, but rose at once above a blush redder than the cut.

“So, uh…” Applejack coughed and went on with a deeper voice and exaggerated swagger. “You girls go to high school, or…”

Faster than a blink, the necromancer drew a Luger and pointed it at Applejack.

Faster still, Adagio squeezed her wrist from its manacle and slid a hairpin from her curls. A flick of her hand sent three inches of disguised steel sailing perfectly through the air to impale the necromancer’s palm. The pistol skittered to the floor, blood splattered, and the woman staggered with a cry.

Applejack spun to cover the injured foe while Sunset whirled on Adagio. “You could have escaped any time!?”

Adagio shrugged, squeezing her remaining limbs from their bonds with eel-like slipperiness. “Yep.”

“Why…?”

“It was sexy. Duh.”

The room dimmed in the next instant, fast enough to set them to blinking. Even the necromancer hesitated, still clutching at her hand.

…Her yellow hand. Sunset’s eyes traveled from it to the bloodstains, flecked so lightly upon the ritual symbol as to be invisible in the faded light.

Hollow and cold, something roared from every corner and shadow where light did not fall.

“That’s all it takes?” Sunset growled.

The necromancer shook her head, but trembled as the darkness moved around them. “N-no… the ritual called for one sacrifice to shed blood first to attract the Nightmare. She would then follow its scent and… and…”

Applejack stepped, and touched something wet, warm, and slimy. She jerked back, but peered down at the darkened floor and found nothing. Just like outside, the light was fading even as the moon hung low and bright.

Then came a hiss, and rattle like a serpent’s tail. One cruel blue eye the size of a head opened in the black, leering right upon the necromancer.

She sprinted for the door. White teeth formed beneath the eye and it lunged, missing her body but catching the cape. It yanked her back, tossed her to the air, and she fell into the black of its gullet.

Torch and moonlight gave Applejack a meager view of the Nightmare, but never one that made sense. It had a dragon’s head, but then she blinked and it was a horse, then snake, always with the one looming eye. It slithered on its belly, yet scuttled like a caterpillar to turn and face them, long and huge.

“Daj?”

“Yeah?” The siren managed.

“Get Sunset and yourself outta here.” Applejack raised the sword.

The Nightmare struck right for the dais and its sacrifices, trying to speed past Applejack. She swung into its side, delivering a deep gouge and an oddly feminine cry of pain. It drew back, turning the eye upon her.

Snake, horse, spider… the darkness sloughed unsteadily from one form to the next, like it couldn’t hold any for more than a few seconds. Black liquid oozed from whatever formed its body.

‘Maybe it can’t last so long as the ritual’s incomplete,’ Applejack mused. ‘Maybe I just need to hang on until–’

It lunged before she could complete the thought, this time right for her. She tried to parry but raw mass knocked her prone. She rolled and swung blindly, winning another slash into its flesh. An odd tendril slapped the sword like a hammer, numbing Applejack’s hands and knocking it free with the second blow.

The eye was above her now, pressing down with teeth the size of her fist. Applejack shoved at what passed for its face, feeling the teeth scratch her bra as they worked a frenzy to come down lower. She could feel it inch closer despite her every effort, weight and strength and gravity on its side.

She gave a last, mighty shove, earning an instant’s time to grasp for the revolver. She cursed as her hands found empty leather – it had been thrown clear in the tussle.

The Nightmare reared back, all the way to the ceiling. Even if she could fend off the teeth, this last slam would smash her open. As Applejack moved her arms back for a desperate guard, her fingers drew across some flimsy plastic that had spilled from her jeans.

…Twilight’s bag.

Her eyes shot wide. She seized the baggie, punching holes with her fingers. And as the monster charged, she gathered powder and plastic and hurled it with all her might for the creature’s eye.

Itching powder hit the fleshy orb, and a scream to dwarf all those before rang out. The Nightmare’s head jerked and thrashed, ramming Applejack imperfectly and carrying her along. She rolled, narrowly avoiding getting crushed by tumbling herself upwards onto the creature’s head.

Like a maddened serpent it bobbed wildly, slamming into walls and pillars, unable to even blink away the maddening itch in its eye. Applejack’s breath left her in a whoosh as it smashed her to the ceiling.

Yet she grinned as it came down. She had it.

“YEEEEEE-HAW!”

With both knees and one hand Applejack held on, freeing the other as the monster bucked and shook. She drew the shotgun, planted it right against what passed for the Nightmare’s temple, and let fly with both barrels. It shuddered and spasmed, shaking her for a good thirty seconds more of ever-weakening motion. Applejack held on firm until the eye closed and the head settled to the ground. She made to step off, and stumbled – suddenly, nothing was there. Nothing between her legs but darkness, lit by torches which now seemed a good deal brighter.

Sunset had scooped up the revolver and Adagio stood with the necromancer’s blade. Both had made ready to help, but with the danger now passed they stowed the weapons in favor of very meaningful smiles. They slunk over to Applejack, leading one hip at a time to let their chainmail clink.

“Let’s go home, girls,” Applejack said. One strap of her damaged bra fell down from her shoulder.

“Yes,” Sunset purred. “Let’s.”

Adagio chimed in. “Also, we’re keeping these outfits.”

The side door was locked, but nothing a muscular leg in a cowboy boot couldn’t handle. They still had to walk a forest path and the other girls were barefoot, so Applejack chivalrously carried them both. One sat on each of her sturdy forearms, hugging her for balance as she strode away.

Behind them, Midnight Castle collapsed for some reason. Nobody looked back.

Twilight flagged them down in the parking lot. At Sunset’s request she agreed to drive so the others could… tend to Applejack’s wounds.

It was a tight squeeze getting three people in the backseats of the pickup truck, but that suited each party just fine. Applejack made her way to the middle, while Sunset and Adagio closed in on each side.

Sunset stroked a muscular arm. Adagio let her fingers run over thighs below the crippled jeans. They looked to Applejack’s face, silently jockeying for the first kiss.

Applejack’s mouth hung wide open. Her head rested flush to the seat, and as they pulled from the parking lot the first uproarious snore left her mouth.

Author's Notes:

Suggested by diablo4000.

Feel free to drop off any chapter suggestions via the link here. And thank you for reading!

Fire and Ice (slice-of-life, monster-of-the-week, Redheart, Harshwhinny)

Nagatha Harshwhinny woke at five in the morning. She did so every day – with work, hunting, and social commitments, sometimes the wee hours were all she had to be alone. She could exercise or read a little, then enjoy a seated breakfast before the hustle of the day began.

And.

And.

And if she roused early enough on her own, she wouldn’t be jarred awake by Chickadee’s damn rooster. Through slit eyes, she could see it waddle into her room with chest puffed in pride at its self-appointed task of filling her life with misery.

“I am awake, Mister Happy-Beak,” Harshwhinny said. Chickadee favored rather childish naming conventions.

The monster breathed in, readying a call that could break windows, but Harshwhinny struck first. She socked it with a thrown pillow, turning the auditory assault into a defeated squawk as the rooster beat a hasty retreat.

A woman’s warble came down the hall, so ‘country’ as to make Applejack sound like a New York gangster. “Naggy, don’t hit my babies!”

“Then keep them out of my room,” Harshwhinny shouted. It was an old quarrel that longtime housemates were allowed to have – a minor stand-off that never quite broke the peace. Harshwhinny was even a little grateful to Mister Happy-Beak for removing all temptation to sleep in.

She stretched, permitting herself a quiet yawn and one undignified scratch at her toned belly. Next came a rapid-fire routine of squats, sit-ups, and push-ups, all while tempting smells of cooking meat emerged from the kitchen. She took a quick, cold shower and readied for the day: purple blazer, matching pants, and white blouse. Hot weather was no excuse for a teacher to ‘dress down.’

She sat for breakfast, tea and toast, while Chickadee sat down to hers: stewed apples, country chicken, biscuits, peaches, ham, and gravy. Harshwhinny ate in meditative silence while Chickadee alternatingly fed her chickens from the table then scolded them for begging.

An odd duo, yet Harshwhinny considered it no odder than the angelic Celestia and her brat sister. Chickadee – busty, chubby, friendly, loud, freckled, and all the other things Harshwhinny assuredly was not – had been her college roommate, and for the longest time they were the only ones who could stand each other. Chickadee did the cooking, Harshwhinny the cleaning in an endless effort to keep the house clear of feathers, and other chores were arranged as needs-musts.

Speaking of which, “Got yer lunch packed, Harshie-poo! Hope you still like my bean and cheese casserole!”

“Of course,” Harshwhinny said in a voice which to most would sound like cold indifference. Chickadee understood the truth of things, and giggled.

Half of their garage was given over to Chickadee’s beloved chicken house. The other half went to Harshwhinny’s carefully-maintained purple sedan. Alone once more, she put on a CD with K-pop music and hummed approvingly with a glance at her watch. She would arrive at school with a good hour to spare.

At this exact time, Nurse Redheart stood in the stained underwear that passed for her night clothes, staring dead-eyed into the cracked bathroom mirror.

Her vision focused, and she gave herself a wry smile. “Happy birthday.”

The big thirty-three. A life almost halfway over. No husband, no boyfriend, no kids or pets or house. Not even any sex except for that one time with the emergency room doc.

She got dressed. Put her hair in its loose bun and ate a breakfast of leftover Chinese and a good Lager. Her smile was in place by the time she left the apartment – the kindly, quiet Redheart most students saw was an illusion, but an important one. It made her approachable, and go-figure she could talk with troubled students a lot better than the teachers who had their shit together.

She reached the school five minutes before the first bell rang, and walked past Harshwhinny in the hall. The woman tilted up her nose and gave a slight huff.

“Bitch,” Redheart offered, just loud enough for both to hear.

Harshwhinny deserved it. Redheart unlocked the nurse’s office and chucked her purse onto the sofa. She turned to the desk, then gave a start – a cupcake was there waiting for her. One of those big, bakery cupcakes at that, with a pink card stood up behind it.

Redheart picked up the card, already knowing the sender and grinning despite her previous mood. Celestia had thoughtfully added “From Celestia and Luna,” fooling nobody, and even penned a short note about how grateful she was for Redheart’s work keeping them patched together.

“God bless you,” Redheart murmured. She’d do whatever it took to keep the woman alive – both because Celestia deserved everything and more, and if she ever died their leadership would probably default to Harshwhinny. That idea was more horrifying than any monster.

Although, speaking of being patched together…

A free period. Its existence annoyed Harshwhinny as an invitation to sloth, but Celestia said everyone had to take at least one. Her pen moved across papers, liberally applying red ink until a voice cut in.

“Stitch check.”

“It feels fine,” Harshwhinny said.

Redheart shrugged. “That’s nice.”

Harshwhinny grumbled, but complied. She removed her blazer and blouse, then turned to sit facing the back of the chair and leaned down over it.

She only saw the wound once, via cell-cam. A ghast last week had hooked its nail in her back in the worst kind of way, necessitating six centimeters of caterpillar stitches from present company.

Redheart gave a disapproving grunt. “They’re loose. Have you been taking it easy?”

“I have reduced my exercise routine,” Harshwhinny said carefully.

“Which means…?”

“Fifty pushups, fifty sit-ups, fifty–”

“Oh come on, Miss Professional.” Redheart scolded, feeling around the unbroken skin to each side. “You won’t turn into a fat old bag just by stopping until your goddamn wounds close.”

“You know how it works,” Harshwhinny declared. “Make one excuse to end self-discipline and it becomes very easy to find more.”

Redheart rolled her eyes, putting a bit more pressure near the wound than it needed. “Give yourself some credit. And listen to the medical professional when she talks about medical things.”

Such was their relation – personally they were more-or-less enemies, in a three-way cold war with Luna that flared and thawed across the months. Celestia was too nice, Cheerilee too dippy, and the boys too smart to ever get involved, but somehow all were wise enough to leave it from their professional lives.

Their teaching lives, too.

“Fine,” Harshwhinny sighed, as annoyed with the concession as the blow to her routine. “I will… take it easy.”

Redheart gave an annoyed kind of smile. “I heard that pause. Tell me what you mean.”

“Twenty-five pushups, twenty–”

“Nope,” Redheart cut in. “No strenuous exercise. Period. Take nice walks with your boyfriend instead.”

“Walks are what lazy people do so they can claim they exercise.”

“Hey, if you’re too good for it, then just watch TV.” Redheart smirked. “You break my stitches again, I’m telling Celestia.”

Harshwhinny glowered. “She will understand.”

“Yes. Yes she will.” Redheart leered as she said it – she won, and they both knew.

“I’M TELLING CELESTIA!”

Redheart screamed it from behind the fiery remnants of a car. The dangers of being near the burning corpse of a thing once fueled by gasoline was not lost on her, but right now such was the safest choice. The fire gave nighttime illumination as she glared to where Harshwhinny crouched after tumbling frantically to cover.

“This hardly counts!” Harshwhinny yelled.

“No. Strenuous. Exercise!”

A red laser flew overhead, blasting a tree between them into a scorched stump.

“This is not exercise, it is basic work activity!”

“Will you two put a sock in it!?” Sunset shrieked from the corner of a derelict old factory.

“Well, will you tell us what’s going on!?” Redheart called back.

Sunset grumbled and gestured to the purple girl by her side. “Ask Miss Skynet over here.”

Twilight Sparkle flipped frantically through her notebook, studying its contents even as a new laser blasted at her cover. “It shouldn’t have been like this! It was foolproof. An invention to save mankind… with all the discord, uncertainty, and false information in the world, we needed a perfect source to speak for logic and clarity. If properly harnessed, it could–”

Another laser shot past. Redheart chanced dashing from the burning car, getting away just as it exploded. The force slammed her to the pavement, a bruised mess although at least behind a streetlight.

Fluid leaked down her lips – a fucking nosebleed. “Great, just great.”

Lacking a tissue, there was nothing for it but to push her nice teal shirt against the bleed. “It is my birthday right now. I got wine, I got the Lord of the Rings movies, I was gonna…”

“Whine like a brat?” Harshwhinny asked.

“Yank the stick from your ass, but I’m starting to think you’re fundamentally an ass-stick that grew a human shell.”

“Can we focus, people!?” Sunset yelled.

“On what?” Harshwhinny replied. “What are we even focused on?”

“Professionalism!” Twilight cried. “I built her to be the perfect embodiment of professionalism, to help correct a world gone mad. Capable of self-defense in case those who profited from discord ever tried to bring her down, bullet-proof and–”

“Her?” Harshwhinny asked.

Redheart arched an eyebrow. “Professionalism?”

The voice came, loud and robotic, yet with a dour female tone. “And you have succeeded, my creator. You built me to be professional beyond appraisal. Pure and logical without fault.”

It was hard to see, looming in the darkness. Not until it walked forward with heavy, steel steps could they see the practical loafers, purple blazer, and blond hair. One ice-blue eye became visible just for an instant as the other glowed red and fired a laser over their heads.

The eye was a dead giveaway, obviously. But aside from that and the two-ton trod, it was an exact replica of Miss Harshwhinny.

“You instructed me to advise civil leaders on professional action, but that is inefficient. Logic and dedication to my purpose bid me seek the swiftest and most thorough means of eliminating unprofessional conduct throughout the world. As humans are the source of unprofessionalism, they must be destroyed else unprofessionalism will remain. You must be destroyed as well, for you incorrectly referred to me as ‘her’ instead of ‘it,’ demonstrating contempt for proper grammar.”

“Oh no!” Redheart cried, clutching at her head and snickering. “I can’t tell which one’s the real Harshwhinny!”

Harshwhinny glared at the robot, then her. “You missed your calling as a trash-bar comedian, Miss Redheart.”

Sunset just face-palmed. “Seriously, Twilight…”

“Oh, come on!” Twilight protested. “Who could have predicted this?”

“Anyone,” Sunset said.

Redheart piped in. “Disagree. I definitely did not anticipate spending my birthday fighting an evil robot Harshwhinny clone.”

She sniffed up the rest of the blood and swallowed. Chanced a peep over her cover. Yep, that thing definitely had Harshwhinny’s face.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad birthday, after all.

Not one, not two, but three stick grenades appeared from inside her vest, each gripped in the knuckles of her right hand. Redheart chucked them out, grinning gleefully as they hit the robot square on, then exploded.

She sighed happily, then giggled as the customized grenades burst further into secondary explosions. “Man, that felt good.”

Her expression froze as the fires died. The robot yet stood – unfazed and not even really damaged, save for a superficial slash down its face revealing the metal skeleton beneath. The red of the now-undisguised laser eye glowed, and Redheart launched herself backwards to dodge the shot.

Harshwhinny fired her revolver into its chest uselessly, each shot sparking off without harm.

The robot Harshwhinny raised its hand, and the fingertips sunk in to reveal black metal holes beneath.

“Machine guns,” Twilight warned.

“WHY!?” Sunset shrieked at the same time Redheart called, “Scatter!”

The robot chased them though the industrial maze, a condition at least made easier by its inability to move faster than a menacing stomp.

Harshwhinny had a retort when Redheart noted this, but of course she did. “Miss Redheart, if we don’t stop it before it finds a populated area…”

“It’s bulletproof, it’s fireproof,” Redheart ticked on her fingers as they crouched behind a chest-high wall. “Fuck us, am I right?”

“No,” Harshwhinny said. “My gun was ineffective, but note it did not tear the skin and clothes to further reveal the robot beneath. This implies the superficial layer is a source of protection, which has been disrupted around its face. Do you have any weapons that can melt strong metals?”

Redheart glanced to the scratch-built flamethrower in her hands and shrugged. “Not unless I load this with phosphorus compound. Which Celestia ordered me not to make, store, or use because it’s too dangerous.”

She gave a little whistle in case Harshwhinny missed the point, but it happened the woman was not completely dense. Harshwhinny looked at her guardedly, letting a pregnant few seconds pass before stating the facts. “You did not answer my question.”

“No, I do not have a suitable weapon unless you get really cool, really fast and don’t tell Celestia.”

Harshwhinny frowned with perfect contempt. “What are you, Sunset?”

“Populated areas, Nags. Tick-tock.”

“Fine,” Harshwhinny sighed. Sprinting, ducking, and placing just enough calls to make sure the kids were alive, they made their way to the food-stained mess Redheart called a car. Digging quickly through her trunkful of trash yielded a bright red metal jug just as the robot came into sight.

Redheart frantically began emptying her flamethrower’s fuel into the street. It would be fine, probably. “Not to be a needy bitch, but this shit burns so fast out of the nozzle I basically need to poke her with it.”

“A distraction,” Harshwhinny mused. “I have an idea.”

She stood, in plain sight of the robot. Redheart wondered for one fearful (though she would never admit as such) instant if Harshwhinny’s distraction involved her getting vaporized when the stern woman’s voice rang out. “Your logic is faulty, self-aggrandizing, ill-considered trash.”

It stared to her. Harshwinny sniffed, tilting her nose backwards. “I must say, it is disappointing that one who acts so unprofessionally sees fit to wear my face.”

“I am professionalism incarnate,” the thing intoned, drawing a tight ‘hmph’ from its human twin.

“Define professionalism,” Harshwhinny announced.

“Professionalism. Noun.” It said perfectly. “The conduct, aims, or qualities that characterize or mark a profession or professional person.”

“And what is your profession?” Harshwhinny asked.

“I am created to–”

“‘Was’ created, you mean,” Harshwhinny said archly.

The robot twitched, jerking its head to one side while keeping both eyes locked upon her. “To bring professionalism, order, and clarity to a world beset by emotion and false information.”

“Then start with yourself,” Harshwhinny lectured. “You have destroyed property, both public and private. You have violated multiple weapons laws and announced intent to commit murder. These are destructive, chaotic acts which anyone who values stability, order, and professionalism would condemn.”

“Based on my history imprint and knowledge of your actions, you yourself have violated eleven civil ordinances, three state laws, and five federal laws.”

Harshwhinny sniffed again, disdainfully looking down to check her watch. “Which is to be held higher? Professionalism or legality?”

“Professionalism, of course.”

“And my profession is…?”

Silence. Harshwhinny finished checking the time and looked haughtily to the robot. “I asked you a question.”

The robot twitched again, twice. “You are a teacher.”

“Semantics. I am a monster hunter, and professionally discharge my duties thereof.”

“As do I. It is weak to criticize me for violating imperfect human laws when you do the same.”

“Because our professions are different,” Harshwhinny huffed. “For a chef to convert his raw ingredients into food is professional; for a rat exterminator, it is not. Hunting is a violent activity that inherently requires chaos and violation of civil law. For a being professionally obligated to bring order to do the same is a contemptible disregard of its purpose and–”

“JESUS, WILL YOU BOTH SHUT UP!”

Redheart was probably close enough. Whatever. She pumped the flamethrower, feeling her aiming hand grow hot even in its protective glove as phosphorus compound sprayed past the guide flame and shot white-hot over the robot. Unaffected, it turned – and the action doomed it as the exposed metal caught flame and began hissing and melting inwards.

Redheart kept the trigger depressed, playing the hose into robot-Harshwhinny’s face until the weapon dribbled dry. Its outside remained bizarrely intact, but the melting of metal within sent the faux flesh ghoulishly collapsing on itself until nothing remained but a gross Harshwhinny skin-costume.

She waited a safe few minutes, then gave it a kick for good measure. “Nope. Not a bad birthday, at all.”

“Very classy,” Harshwhinny said with droll disapproval.

Something about the sheer normality of Harshwhinny’s scorn rubbed Redheart… actually, the right way. She gave what she hoped was one of her less-snarky smiles. “Good distraction. How’d you know it would bite?”

“I didn’t.” Harshwhinny calmly began reloading her pistol. “Same as always, Miss Redheart. We do what professional intelligence and instinct bids us, and if that proves insufficient, we withdraw and make a new plan.”

Redheart nodded, but interrupted it with a head-tilt. “Speaking of professional intelligence, I gotta take a new look at those stitches.”

She let out a low smirk. “No. Strenuous. Exercise. Celestia’s gonna be pissed.”

Harshwhinny gave a slight hum, neither fully frowning nor smiling. “Doubtless, her annoyance will be doubled when she learns you’re still making phosphorus compounds. Against her direct orders, no less.”

“You promised not to tell,” Redheart growled, though felt her lips pull upwards.

“I recall no such thing.”

“Bitch!” But Redheart laughed as she said it, and slapped Harshwhinny’s shoulder before she could stop herself. Harshwhinny retained the same unreadable expression that basically counted as a smile, and Redheart went on. “Alright, alright. This didn’t happen, yeah?”

“Agreed.”

“IT TOTALLY DID!” Sunset yelled, covered in soot and crawling from her hiding place.

Twilight moved at Sunset’s side, scribbling in her notebook as she crawled. “Don’t worry! When I rebuild her I’ll be sure toOW-OW SUNSET LEGGO MY EAR!”

“It’s funny,” Redheart mused, ignoring the squabbling teens. “You being a bitch and me being a pyro are the only reasons we were able to stop the thing. Maybe there’s a lesson in here, somewhere.”

Harshwhinny tilted her head down to look at Redheart as though over glasses. “Do you really want us to have a moment, Miss Redheart?”

“Okay, no, but…” Redheart stumbled, then shrugged. “Wanna go pub-hopping?”

“No,” Harshwhinny said.

Redheart sighed, looking down and away.

“However,” Harshwhinny added, not quite making eye contact. “I am perfectly interested in drinking wine and watching Lord of the Rings.”

Redheart beamed. Harshwhinny did not beam back, but that was alright. They walked easily to Redheart’s car, brushing elbows and chatting passive-aggressively as what was left of the robot exploded behind them.

Author's Notes:

Sort of a combination of the suggestions from Lead-Colored-Sky and Night-Quill, as well as inspiration from fan art by Night-Quill posted above.

Feel free to drop off any chapter suggestions via the link here. And thank you for reading!

Punk Metal Mothering (Momlestia)

Celestia was a woman who thrived on simple pleasures and innocent joy. She’d sooner picnic with her boyfriend than have him buy her jewels, and a fine evening with Luna was nothing more than chatting and watching her play video games. With Sunset, she liked to drink coffee on their porch at dawn, then go for a light jog.

“Will you be having dinner with us?”

“Nah,” Sunset said, ending their jog by her bike instead of the door. “I’m going to a Red Murder Doomsday concert tonight, and I’ve got a bunch of errands to do first. Don’t wait up.”

Luna roused far later that morning. She stumbled down the stairs to find… ‘something’ blaring from the dining room. It sounded like a man screaming Morse code into a microphone, albeit toned to a reasonable volume. She entered the kitchen to find Celestia pensively watching a Whotube video on her laptop.

Luna fetched a cereal box and began eating handfuls from it. “Finally moved on from Simon and Garfunkel?”

“This is horrible,” Celestia said with low fear. She clicked on another video, unleashing a new set of musical screams. “Luna, Sunset is going to a punk metal concert tonight, and this is the band! Red Murder Doomsday. Here, look at them.”

She brought up a picture: black leather, spikes, mohawks, and skulls.

Luna shrugged. “You do know Torch wears a jacket like that, right?”

“Torch doesn’t sing about slaughtering lambs for the glory of Satan.” Celestia’s voice grew shriller with each word. “Satan, Luna! They worship Satan!”

“Only because they’ve never met him,” Luna said.

“That’s not the point!” Celestia’s wide eyes remained on the picture. “My baby girl is going to a punk metal concert! The place will be filled with… with drugs! And Satanists, and sex, maybe even Nazis! She likes loud music, I understand that, but she has no idea what she’s getting into!”

Luna watched her sister work herself ever further into a tizzy. In her mind, two paths branched off from the main. She could explain that punk concerts were perfectly safe for thousands or millions of attendees every year, and besides, Sunset had faced down literal demons and obviously would be fine.

Instead, she hid her mouth behind a fistful of cereal. “You’re right, Tia. We need to go there and make sure nothing happens.”

Luna paused, seeming to think on it before adding, “You know she’ll hate it if she knew we were following her. We should get some disguises.”

Celestia was shockingly agreeable for all that came next. A trip to Cold Topic and the hair salon completed their outfits. Redheart and Cheerilee actually managed to find tickets, given along with the secret terms that Luna wear a camera because they wouldn’t miss this for the world. It was a lot to handle in one day, and in what felt like no time at all they paid for overpriced parking and got out to stand with the waiting throng.

Luna felt damn proud of her outfit despite the haste in which it was made. Black leather and cloth were combined to make a helmet and dress that seemed both regal and militant, and her hair was dyed to a deeper, monochrome blue. She even splurged and got slit-eye contact lenses, but to be honest it was Celestia’s transformation that both blew her away and made her want to collapse in laughter. Celestia’s hair had been straightened and colored in alternating purple and black, half-hiding a face covered in white makeup with purple tears. She wore a spiked collar and a deep purple leather jacket with black highlights, and Luna made absolutely certain the hidden camera in her top button caught Celestia from every angle.

“This is so embarrassing,” Celestia mumbled – still Celestia beneath it all.

“Remember, we’re punk girls,” Luna hissed. “Act the part.”

The auditorium doors opened, and they got in line next to a girl with perhaps twelve visible piercings and a man with a skull tattooed on his face.

The girl smiled at Celestia. “Nice outfit.”

She was not much older than Sunset. Celestia beamed with instinctive kindness. “Thank you. My sister…”

She coughed. “I MEAN SATAN helped me make it.”

The girl rolled her eyes and looked away.

“Great job,” Luna said. “You’re blending right in.”

“Just keep your eyes out for my baby,” Celestia fretted. She looked around, yet even with her tall height could not find Sunset in the crowd. “Do you know where she likes to stand during concerts?”

“Historically? On stage.”

“Not helping. We can text each other, let’s split up when we get inside.”

Luna snorted. “Yeah, we can do more damage that way.”

Celestia looked upset at the choice of words, but soon resumed swiveling her head for any sign of Sunset. Luna pulled out her handheld game and played merrily until their time came to enter the theater.

The layout of the place eased Celestia’s fears, if only barely. There were food vendors, tables, and bars, all positioned around a mosh pit with elevations that ideally let everyone see the stage. No animal sacrifice, drug dens, or pentagrams could be seen… yet. Side passages and dark corners were present in abundance, and the warm-up band’s screamed singing pounded at her brain.

She saw Luna put in her gunner ear plugs, and followed suit. At least then she could hear herself think. With a mix of pantomime and shouted instructions, Celestia directed Luna to circle the mosh pit while she checked out the back areas.

Luna had not been gone long when Celestia started to regret her absence. A lover of calm and quiet, this bizarre place of darkness, noise, and menacing strangers triggered fear in her that real monsters never held. Faces in the crowd were ghoulish and threatening, and wore violent spikes and diabolist symbols. Crazed laughter chased her as people drank recklessly and smoked from odd pipes at tables, while others mashed tongues heedless of who might see.

Worst of all, Sunset was nowhere to be found.

Celestia needed a break. Fortunately, the first band’s performance was over, replacing speaker-enhanced screams with the dull noise of the crowd. She stumbled towards the back of the room, away from the mosh pit’s roar. Nauseous, sweating, and trying to avert her eyes from everything, she walked head-first into a studded leather chest.

The man from up front, with the skull face inked across his own. Celestia’s legs went numb, but he caught her before she fell.

“Whoa, dude! You alright?”

…Not at all what she expected to hear. Especially spoken with a nerdy lisp.

Celestia collected her thoughts and willed her legs back in order. “I… I am now, yes. I apologize, I was a little…”

The man let her stand on her own, though kept his hands to each side as she wobbled. “First concert?”

“Yes,” Celestia said.

“Gotcha. Try to pace yourself, alright?” He passed her a water bottle. “Get to the back tables and take a breather. There’s nothing Metal about needing an ambulance.”

Celestia dumbly accepted the gift and nodded. Her balance returned, and the man brushed past her towards the mosh pit.

Deciding to take good advice for what it was, Celestia moved to the backmost tables. A careful check showed the water bottle to be new and sealed, and she cracked it open and took a drink.

It was quieter here, with the crowd pushed towards the stage. A seat and more sips let Celestia reclaim her nerves and morale.

…Perhaps Sunset wasn’t in as much danger as she thought. But it’d still be important to make sure. Celestia’s eyes drifted around as she tried to paint a mental map of the place. They moved across tables in the vain hope of recognition, although few other attendees sought comparative peace and quiet.

One in particular caught her gaze – a man in a Hawaiian shirt of all things, with cargo shorts, red skin, and thick plastic glasses.

A familiar man. Celestia tensed, at once feeling thoroughly better with a clear foe in sight. A punk concert was alien, frightening. This was old ground.

She stood and approached. The man tapped away on a laptop opened to some spreadsheet, unaware until Celestia grabbed his ear. She gave it a savage twist, earning a girlish cry.

“Hello, Satan. You better have a good reason for being here.”

Celestia sat down hard, one hand firmly on her concealed pistol. Satan gingerly patted his ear, giving an exaggerated ‘Ooooo’ of pain.

“What was that for?” he moaned. “I thought we were friends!”

Celestia was unmoved. “The last time I saw you we had to catch your dog before it ate my school. You promised to pay someone to pick it up and they never showed, so guess who had to find twenty kilograms of silver in the middle of the night to banish it?”

“Nodevil would go unless I paid them overtime!” Satan said, still nursing the ear. “And you ended up doing it for free, so…”

Celestia gave a groaning sigh. “Why are you here?”

“Change of scenery,” Satan said, typing a little more on his laptop. “There’s just enough diabolic energy here to let me manifest. I’m using the peace and quiet to get some actual work done.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Celestia mused.

Satan chuckled a little, still typing. “I keep telling you the truth, and you keep doubting me.”

“You are literally Satan.”

“And despite that, the facts don’t change.” Satan gave a frustrated smile. “Technically, I am lord of Hell and ruler of all devils, demons, and damned souls, but realistically I’m more the manager nobody respects or listens to. Hell is noisy as, uh, Hell and filled with distractions, so I was hoping for just a solid two hours without interruption until you wandered along. Nice getup, by the by. And you’re not even the worst thing that’s happened today.”

Celestia opened her mouth for a retort. She closed it slowly, digesting the last sentence, and rested her head in her hand.

“I didn’t lose my dog this time,” Satan preemptively protested.

“Then what?” Celestia hissed. “What hell-spawn am I going to have to deal with, because it’s always me who cleans up your horrifying messes. I don’t have any silver on me, you know.”

“You have silver bullets,” Satan noted.

“You can have one. Where do you want it?”

“Relax, dollface,” Satan said with a dismissive wave. “It’s not my people this time, it’s yours.”

“All humans are not ‘my people,’” Celestia groaned.

“Said the lady who blames me every time she has to fight a devil.”

“You’re the lord of Hell,” Celestia cut in. “I’d tell you to act like it but I’m pretty sure that would make things worse. What’s the problem?”

Satan gestured with his head. “Over there. Right side, between us and the mosh pit. Bunch of losers.”

Celestia looked in that direction, coming to focus on a knot of about a dozen concert-goers for lack of anything else that stood out. Honestly, the only thing strange was how they stood in tight union while the crowd milled around them.

“Behind the group?” she tried.

“Look closer.”

Celestia complied. No fangs or pale faces, nor were their pupils dark, their steps heavy, or any of the other signs the supernatural was at work. Perhaps an unusual percentage of them were bald or had close-shaven hair.

She began picking out the details of their outfits. The common studs, skulls and leather were present, but Celestia noticed a degree of uniformity in the highlights they wore. Twin lightning bolts, iron crosses… and now and then an actual Swastika on the biggest and baldest of them.

She didn’t understand at all. “Nazis like punk music?”

“Nazis like anything that lets them gather openly without kicking their ass.” Satan made a nauseous noise. “Fucking Nazis.”

Now that the dots were connecting, Celestia could see the other concertgoers gave them a wide berth.

“Aren’t they yours?” She mused. “Damned souls, and so on?”

Satan laughed, then growled. “God I wish it worked like tha… nope, scratch that, I don’t. Hell is bursting with morons, I can’t handle any more.”

Celestia tapped her foot, pensively sizing up the gang. “I thought you’d like Nazis. Being Satan and all.”

“I’m ‘a’ source of evil, not ‘the’ source. Put two trees in the same small pot, they’ll hate each other. Punk concerts used to be an actual, reliable source of diabolic power where devils could come party, and yes okay sometimes slip into the world at large, sue me. But that lead to this B.S. mindset of like, ‘nothing is evil except restrictions!’ or whatever so nobody batted an eye when the Nazis showed up. One or two at a time, real cool and inoffensive, and the next thing you know the punk scene was lousy with them.”

Satan shrugged, his lips tight. “Eventually the metal-heads beat the shit out of the Nazis and chased them off, but the magic never really came back. Not all their fault, really. Bands don’t sacrifice lambs anymore, the label companies make sure everything’s watered-down and marketable… capitalism killed us, man.”

“Obviously the Nazis aren’t gone,” Celestia said, brushing past Satan’s whining. She watched as the tight-knit gang began to prowl, snatching at girls and shoving down boys in their way.

“Hm? Oh, that was last generation.” Satan shrugged again. “All the kids these days are a bunch of posers. ‘Look at me, I worship Satan because I’m mad at my dad!’ Here, watch.”

His arm snaked out, catching the skull-faced man as he walked past. “Hey, kid! Those guys are Nazis. Me and sugar-tits are putting together a gang to kick them out. You want in?”

“Sorry, no. My mom would kill me if I got in a fight here.”

Satan let him go, and the guy vanished into the crowd. “See? Posers. I bet he’d throw some animal rights tantrum if anyone actually did sacrifice a lamb.”

“If you hate the Nazis so much, why don’t you do something?” Celestia asked.

Satan gestured to his laptop. “If I don’t get this done tonight I’ll have to work overtime, and screw that.”

Celestia scratched at her cheek, then frowned as purple makeup went under her fingernail. “Speaking of posers…”

“Well, what about you?” Satan sneered. “Little miss hero?”

“I’m not here for fun,” Celestia mumbled. “Actually, I don’t like this place at all. I’m just looking for…”

Red and yellow caught her eyes. She turned, beamed. There was Sunset. Given the circus around them, it was a little off-putting that her dress was casual as ever. Nothing really ‘Metal’ but the studded leather jacket Luna gave her for Christmas a few years back. Celestia noted Ember and some other girls chatting with Sunset, all of them laughing at some unheard joke.

They were right in the path of the Nazi gang, oblivious. The skinheads seemed to leer right at her. Sunset stood out from the other girls – younger, fresh-faced, with eyes that never aged out of their innocence.

Celestia rose, and with that motion swung the chair out from beneath her, then up and over her shoulder right for the gang. She caught two in the face, jostling the rest as they staggered into each other.

The commotion drew Ember’s attention. She grabbed Sunset’s hand and beat a hasty retreat.

The Nazis turned to Celestia’s table. A few had glass bottles in hand, and one pulled out a knife. The tallest, baldest, and most Swastika’d among them uncoiled an iron chain from his arm.

Celestia pointed at Satan. “He did it.”

Satan blinked. Then he screamed, scrambling to his feet. “Oh, come on!”

“I forgot to mention that needing twenty kilos of silver in the middle of the night why I’m not in Hawaii right now.”

“They’re all bigger than us,” he mewled.

“Don’t be such a pussy, Satan!” Celestia shouted as she got to work, jumping on the table and spinning her legs, timing it perfectly to floor the first assailant with a whip-crack kick. She leapt high, caught a hanging light, and swung it into a second kick that landed her behind the mob. She tripped two more with a leg-sweep and darted back. Celestia danced for distance as the rest chased her, save three who started beating up Satan.

Celestia knew how to fight, even without guns or blade. She knew to keep balance, to seize the initiative, to use her long legs to build momentum into powerful snapping kicks. All while moving slower than her assailants – slow is smooth, smooth is fast.

Ten at once was still too much. She lured them away from Sunset’s group, but that carried them into the mosh pit. She stumbled and tripped while the Nazis shoved their way through, sparking more fights. One swung his knife – the idiot, you don’t swing with a knife. Celestia caught the blade on her leather-clad arm and broke his nose with a punch. She kicked another assailant down, dodged, then crumpled as one slugged her in the gut.

She blinked, willing her stunned body to move, then blinked again as the skinhead jerked suddenly and fell. Luna materialized from his side with a smoking Taser. It crackled loudly in her hands, cowing the Nazis long enough for Celestia to stand.

“Sunset and Ember saved Satan, by the way,” Luna noted. “He promptly ran like a little bitch, but it was the right thing to do…”

She shrugged. “I guess. Got three of them off you, anyway.”

Now as a pair, they kept fighting and giving ground, picking off assailants when they could. Unlike her sister, Luna had no martial arts training, nor did she have the healthy lifestyle or long legs that gave Celestia her edge. But Luna did have a stun gun, brass knuckles, and habit of punching low, and those counted in a fight like this.

The needs of the retreat soon forced the sisters apart, but attrition and confusion meant only two followed Celestia when she reached the stage. She flipped atop it and snap-kicked one in the face when he tried to climb up. He fell, and she repeated it with the next.

He… didn’t fall. The giant with the metal chain only spat blood and lashed at her, bruising her arm beneath the jacket and forcing her back. Celestia backpedaled as he climbed after her, bumping into four people coming from behind.

“Hey, you can’t be here!” the lead singer of Red Murder Doomsday yelled.

Celestia’s eyes stayed on the Nazi. She needed a weapon…

She snatched one of their electric guitars. “I need to use this to hit a Nazi.”

The owner shrugged. “Go for it, bro.”

Celestia turned and charged, hoping to close the distance before the chain-armed brute finished climbing. She skidded to a halt, already too late. Lights glared from above in anticipation of the band’s entrance as the Nazi stood before her, on-stage and grinning with the attention of thousands upon them.

Celestia paused, clutching the guitar’s neck. He was taller than her and bulked with muscle, and had a real weapon.

But it was a weapon that needed space. Instinct bid her make a distraction and so she screamed, and the nearby microphones echoed it across the audience. They cheered in response, and Celestia sped towards her foe. He drew the chain back to swing – Celestia leapt the last few feet, guitar high, still screaming as she brought it down on his head.

The guitar snapped upon the impact. The Nazi’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed.

Still screaming, unable to quite hold herself back, Celestia raised the damaged instrument and hit him again, causing the guitar to break fully in half.

She managed to catch herself before swinging the broken neck. She looked to the cheering audience, squinting as the stage-lights focused upon her.

A hot blush rose in Celestia’s cheeks, hidden by the makeup, and she fled backstage.

“Who was that?” Sunset asked, staring to where the woman disappeared.

Ember shrugged. “I don’t know, but she was Metal as fuck.”

Author's Notes:

Nobody suggested this, but if you don’t like seeing Celestia as a dorky-yet-badass mom you would’ve dropped this series a long time ago.

Oh, and so long as I have your ear, check out the TV Tropes page! With many thanks to those who’ve contributed to it.

Feel free to drop off any chapter suggestions via the link here. And thank you for reading!

Day Jobs (slice-of-life, sexual-references-so-just-skip-it-if-you-don’t-like-those-kinda-things)

Adagio didn’t look at the view-count of songs she posted to Whotube. Too depressing. Trying to build oneself into celebrity status was a long and painful process, but fortunately she never approached it with any delusions otherwise.

She wiggled on her seat, with an odd mix of old and new perched around her rolling desk. She had a tablet propped on some books, scrolling up and down with ink-smudged fingers for references and research. On the other side was a stand of vellum paper, an ink pot, and quills. Adagio had sung for countless years, and the art was as sacred as anything could be in her cynical heart. Technology, even printers… something was lost when you turned the songwriting over to them. The vellum held uneven music bars and scribbled notes, all to be expanded or shed as the half-written songs transformed ever-forwards. Music was a thing to be poured without reservation, not filled with convenient shortcuts.

A microphone rested at the center of the desk. It worked for testing and practice, though all her real recording had to happen at the college studio.

Adagio hummed to herself, reaching down to play idly with her seat. Firm and ungiving, with slight grooves for her to tickle her fingers between.

Applejack mumbled something she could not make out. Adagio kept humming, letting her lips turn up into a grin. Yes, her passion was music – the emotional, enlightened, right kind of music. But she’d be an idiot to turn down side work. Not only was it money in the bank, it was another video for her channel. Maybe it would get enough hits to buy her more than a sandwich each month. Maybe it would lure more side work, though Adagio wasn’t sure if she liked that idea. Singing something as crass as a commercial rankled her to the core, although at least this particular job treated her well.

It had other challenges, certainly. Rhymes for ‘apple’ were hard to come by, though only an amateur songwriter would let that stop them.

“I really owe you for this, sweet Applejack.”

The seat rustled as Applejack shrugged. Of course she wouldn’t think much of it. To Sweet Apple Acres, a few hundred dollars for an advertisement jingle was just another cost of doing business. Same as when she paid the budding art-major Sunset for a new logo and merch design. But to the yellow girls, these were the precious, precious first steps of what they hoped to make into a career.

Adagio settled back, content with at least the draft of the song. She ran her hand along the seat once more, looking down to smile at it. Six broad, muscular abs, holding her aloft without hint of discomfort.

She move her left hand down and stroked a knee, then looked to the head of her bed. She saw freckles glistening beneath their blindfold, kissed with a lingering blush as Applejack relaxed with Adagio on her chest. The woman was clad in underwear, gagged, and bound hand and foot, with each limb stretched to a bedpost.

Adagio circled her finger around the belly button, eliciting a muffed giggle.

She swallowed hard, unable to quite suppress a wave of sappy emotion. She settled the hand palm-down and simply rested it on Applejack’s stomach.

“I’ll be honest,” she said, using habitual snark to hide the sudden tightness in her throat. “I wanted to get with you for a long time before finally admitting it. When you asked to be my girlfriend, you made me happy in a way I’m still trying to put into song, and I don’t know if I’ll ever succeed.”

“But when I found out you were a sub…” Adagio snickered, and gently pushed away her desk. “Well, that was like opening a shell and finding two pearls, plus a rainbow.”

Time for a break. Adagio sighed with contentment, easing her butt from the chest to the bed and lounging to cuddle up next to Applejack.

“Need anything, babe?”

“Nough,” Applejack managed through the gag,

Adagio nodded. “Ear-nibbles? You got it.”

Sunset wasn’t big on the idea of digital artwork. Pouring hours and days into a masterpiece which didn’t exist outside of the screen felt wrong in a way that tugged on her Equestria-educated soul. The career she envisioned was to paint frescos and displays, with maybe a little metalworking thrown in for good measure.

And a day-job teaching art at Canterlot High, but she hadn’t quite gotten around to sharing that with anyone.

Still, digital art was a good skill to learn, and the basics of it came easily. Simple cartoon characters could be illustrated inside an hour. Not the easiest ten dollars she’d ever earned, but not bad. Even if drawing a few of the Power Pillars kissing felt a little weird.

A voice shocked her from behind. “Looking good!”

Sunset was surprised, but communal living with Wallflower had finally begun to dull her tendency to startle. She only gave a little smile and roll of the eyes. “How long have you been there?”

“Half-hour. You were busy so I let you work.”

“Dude, privacy,” Sunset grumbled. “This is my room.”

“Yeah, well Adagio and Applejack are uuuuuuuh doing a thing in mine.”

“Didn’t stop you before.” Sunset glanced behind her to find Wallflower perched on Applejack’s bed, eating from a noodle cup.

Wallflower shrugged, slurping up and swallowing. “Hey, I said I was sorry back then. People closed the door with me inside, and I figured the best I could do was not raise a fuss.”

She paused a second to swirl more noodles onto her fork. “Actually, it was good research. For my next fanfic the commissioner wants a kinky three-way between young Mistmane, Somnambula with man-bits, and their OC and now I have a much better idea what sex is really like.”

Sunset pointed to her computer screen. “Is that what this one’s for?”

“No, that’s for my current commission where the female Pillars have man-bits and all six of them compare size which leads to a bukkak–”

“Wallflower, I’ll do your cover-art but for the love of Pony Celestia please leave me anonymous.” Sunset squinted hard, trying not to think of her beloved Smash Pillars characters in that scenario and failing. “I thought you were… you know, not into that kind of stuff?”

“I just think it’s neat,” Wallflower said, a little too cheerfully for Sunset’s liking. “Besides, I’m into whatever people want for two cents per word.”

Sunset gave a restrained smile, turning back to her work. “So this is where your grocery money comes from.”

“Hey, I can’t get a normal job.” Wallflower slurped down another mouthful of noodles, then belched. “Neither will you, Miss Art Major. I’m pretty big in the Pillars fandom, so I’ll bet you’d get commissions if I name-dropped you. Maybe study a little anatomy and do NSFW work. You could charge like seventy bucks a character for some good futa.”

“No. Thank you.” Sunset cut in, moving mechanically through the coloring process. “I’m just doing this because we’re friends. I’m basically a real professional now, you know. I did a display set for Prim Hemline herself way back in high school.”

“How many have you done since?”

“Not the point. I’m also designing assets for a local business, everything from liquor labels to T-shirts.”

Wallflower giggle-snorted. “Applejack doesn’t count.”

Sunset scowled and ticked points on her fingers. “Look, Wallflower. I’m an art-major, yes. Which traditionally leads to careers in bartending and fast food, yes. You write fanfiction, Adagio’s trying to be a Whotube star, and Applejack is part of a small farming business and to be honest I have no idea how they stay afloat. None of us 100% have our shit together, so can’t we get through it without ragging each other?”

“Okay, yeah,” Wallflower said quickly, her voice becoming apologetic. “Sorry. Was just having fun, you know? Gotta give you some way to remember me.”

“I remember you just fine,” Sunset said, letting her smile return. “I don’t always notice you, but I don’t forget you anymore. It happened sometime between saving our lives and having me draw art for your Smash Pillars porn fic.”

“The term is ‘smash-fic.’ If you wanna make another ten bucks, I’m thinking for the next cover to be a really cute Flash Magus with like this big shadow over him the shape of a…”

Author's Notes:

Just a lil' thang.

Things Change (Wallflower, drama)

Something about her little chat with Sunset stuck in Wallflower’s mind far beyond that afternoon. It wasn’t until a few days passed that she realized fully the implications when Sunset said she didn’t forget Wallflower anymore.

Maybe Sunset was just being nice, or maybe she had forgotten she forgot. Wallflower initially brushed it off as such, content to let things take the same course they had for years. Just one little oddity in her very unusual life.

Yet, it was not the only one. And as the oddities began to pile, it dawned on Wallflower that their little exchange over fanfic art wasn’t an oddity at all. It was part of a pattern.

She didn’t really know when it began. Wallflower puzzled the pieces on her way to class, clutching her backpack with brow furrowed in thought. Little moments of the past month began coming back to her. In a frustrated mood Adagio had made to slam their door, but caught it when she noticed Wallflower in the way. It wasn’t too strange – the girls had gotten used to her presence. Same as when Applejack yelled from the hallway if Wallflower (by name!) wanted anything from the deli.

…Same as when the professor called on her in class. Wallflower shrank beneath her desk, and after several long seconds he called on someone else. Doubtless, he forgot all about her. That was how it worked.

…And when the bus driver saw her running to catch up and waited. And when the girl who sat next to her all semester turned, wrinkled her nose, and told Wallflower to start wearing deodorant.

Wallflower could be noticed, when some turn of chance or action drew attention to her. None of these events were impossible.

She looked up, jerked abruptly from her musings by the close passing of other students. She’d walked most of the way on the wrong side of the path, against the flow of traffic. Yet no one had collided with her. Passerbies stepped around her, many sending curious or contemptuous glances as they walked. At her greasy hair, her stained clothes, her dirty nails…

Rare shame welled up within Wallflower. Like right after the memory stone incident, when Sunset brought her to face what she had become. Alone in a crowd, awkward and rat-haired.

It was bright outside. The building she approached had an open door, and the inside seemed dark and crowded. A hundred voices blurred together – were they talking about her? Wallflower hung her head, took in her body. Old T-shirt with holes in the armpits, stained jeans, stupid plastic yellow flip-flops.

She looked away, but that gave no comfort. A few were staring at her. The rest had to be stealing glances. Maybe just because she stopped outside and was gazing in with terror – no. They stared because she was pathetic, scrawny, smelly…

Wallflower turned from the path and began to sprint, blindly racing with animal instinct to the one person who could save her.

“Twilight, dearie? You have a friend here, I think you better go see her.”

Something about her mother’s choice of words paused Twilight’s protests about being interrupted. She opened her mouth and closed her book. “Okay, Mom.”

She climbed down from the family library, descending two stories of plush stairs, skidding a little in her high socks as she came to the hardwood floor of the second parlor. Her mother had discreetly moved to the kitchen, leaving Twilight face-to-face and alone with her friend.

Wallflower was a mess. She sat on a foyer chair, hunched and breathing heavily as though she had run the eight blocks from Canterlot College to here. Her eyes were red, her breaths sobbing, and a trembling grip of the fingers marked her as being in the middle of a panic attack.

Twilight would know. She had many herself, back at Crystal Prep.

“Wallflower! Hey, c’mon.” Twilight wasted no time with greetings, instead kneeling to put herself at eye level. “What’s up?”

Thoughts of death and vampires clouded her mind in the torturous few seconds before Wallflower answered. Twilight held her breath, and the smaller girl finally managed to scream, “I’m visible!”

Twilight sighed with guilty relief. She gave a weak smile, defaulting to logic. “Well, yeah. You never were invisible, you’re just perceived as being part of the background so–”

“No, no!” Wallflower shrieked, slapping her hand out like a child having a tantrum. “They can see me. They’re looking at me, and they’re laughing! The memory stone is wearing off, and I need you to fix it. Even your mother could see me, and she remembered my name!”

“Okay, slow down.” Twilight offered her embroidered silk handkerchief for the tears, then winced as Wallflower instead blew her nose. “Nobody’s fixing anything, okay? Not without some tests. I still have the results from when I measured your magic, let’s see what it looks like now.”

The promise of action seemed to mollify Wallflower. She allowed Twilight to fetch her water and drink it, resting a few minutes before rising to change locations. They exited the side door, heading for the concrete laboratory that was Twilight’s pride and joy.

They passed a pink, purple-haired girl sunning herself by Twilight’s pool.

“Ignore her,” Twilight said grumpily. “That’s Starlight Glimmer, my second cousin. Freeloading with us as part of her parole from now until doomsday.”

“Only until I find a job that can handle me!” the girl yelled back.

“Exactly!” Twilight replied, quickly shepherding Wallflower onwards. A keycard, thumbprint, and saliva test gained access, and the lamps came on as Twilight walked in. White flared across her glasses, and despite the gravity of the situation Twilight could not help but grin.

“Alright, Wallflower. Let’s science.”

For Twilight, the next two hours were very interesting. Countless tests created an ever more clear picture of data, painted in graphs and figures. Everything from vital signs to brainwave stimulation, with metal bowl on the head and limbs strapped down so any incidental spasms don’t harm the subject. All in the name of science.

And friendship, of course.

Wallflower submitted willingly. Twilight had tested all her Equestria-touched friends at one point or another, and all had displayed substantial reservations about her methods. Such stress made the tests unreliable… Twilight had wanted to sedate them for the procedures, but Mom said no. Wallflower’s cool acceptance of everything, motivated doubtless by her own need to know, would serve as a useful variable even if nothing else came of this.

Wallflower knew the tests took time. Perhaps she was too lost with her own worries to notice the hesitation that slipped onto Twilight’s face early in the process. The numbers were clear, but the picture not yet complete. Changing Wallflower’s perception could alter the results.

There… was also the little fact that Twilight was not good at breaking bad news.

When the tests were done, Twilight turned back to her logic. After all, it was not so bad.

She theatrically cleared her throat as Wallflower sat up on the testing table. “Honestly, it’s about what I expected. Overuse of the memory stone flooded your body with its magic. Now, three to four years down the road, with no means of replacement it’s finally starting to die down. Measuring such things is a bit more theory than fact, but every way I know how to look at you says you’ve got maybe half the magic you had last time.”

Twilight pushed up her glasses, unable to resist the smile of a fresh theory. “Now that I think about it, you’ve probably been losing magic for a while. I remember you saying you lived in Applejack’s dorm all freshman year and she never noticed you. One year later, we’re all besties. Now you’ve found you’re not stuck in the background, and probably by next year you’ll–”

Wallflower nodded, but Twilight’s smile fell as the words spilled out. “Fix it.”

“You are being fixed. Your body is returning to its natural level of cognitive attraction.”

“No, fix me the other way.” Wallflower leaned in, looking urgently to Twilight. “Give me my superpowers back.”

A low note of panic ticked in Twilight’s heart, and her voice cracked on the first word. “Those aren’t superpowers, they’re the side effects of an alien substance our bodies aren’t designed to handle.”

“Like Spider-Man, or Rockhoof’s shovel.” Wallflower grinned with too many teeth. “Come on, you’re a mad scientist. Hook me up. I know you have something that can suck in magic, you used it during the Crystal Prep games.”

Twilight folded her arms, scratching at the elbows of her lab coat. “I may be a mad scientist, but I’m also an ethical one. I have no idea how to measure magic quantities to be both safe and effective, and no idea what side effects it might cause. Last time it turned me into a monster until the magic drained out, and that might have been the best possible result.”

“But my body is used to it,” Wallflower said, leaning forwards. “I’ve been harboring Equestrian magic for a long time. Won’t it just refuel what’s there?”

Twilight shook her head. “Probably, but that could be even worse. Like I said, I have no reliable means of measuring a dose and no idea what enhancing your powers will do to you. You could completely disappear from human perception and memory.”

Wallflower cheerfully kicked out her legs. “Well! Many questions, and we won’t know the answers unless we science. I’ll be your ginneau pig for the first magical transfer in history!”

“The second,” Twilight said tersely. “And I don’t even use ginneau pigs as ginneau pigs, let alone people.”

She swallowed, forcing herself to meet Wallflower’s gaze. “Let alone my friends.”

Wallflower gave a breathless chuckle, glossy-eyed with unshed tears. “Twilight, it’s because we’re friends that I need you to do this. I need to be forgettable again.”

“Why?”

“Because look at me!” Wallflower shrieked, then frantically went on. “I saved lives with those powers. With them, I’m a hero. Without them, I’m nothing! A dumb, doofy girl. Too lazy to buy new clothes or do laundry every week. C-plus grades, an undecided major, one shower a week because derpa-der, nobody sees me so who cares! This is all I have, all that I’m good at, all that makes me worthwhile! I–”

Twilight’s hand snaked out and slapped her hard across the cheek.

They paused, staring to each other for one second before Twilight twitched her fingers. “Ow.”

“That hurt,” Twilight said, stumbling onwards. “B-but not as much as hearing you say those things. We’re your friends, Wallflower. We know you’re worthwhile.”

“We’re only friends because of the hunting,” Wallflower mewled. “And I’m usless without my powers.”

Twilight took Wallflower’s hands in her own. “Friendship isn’t about being useful. It’s about being friends! The greatest science of all is friendship. You learn, experiment, grow, and change.”

She paused, letting out a bashful giggle. “Look, I don’t talk much about my Crystal Prep years, but I was invisible myself for most of them. No one cared about me, no one looked twice at me. Unless Principal Cinch needed to trot out her prodigy student for some contest or ceremony, but that was worst of all. I hated being noticed – empty praise from greedy adults and bullying from the students. Life was better when I was invisible, staying in my lab or the science room so no one would think about me.”

A swallow. “You know what came next, more or less. I’m still really, really shy around strangers, but I found friends. I found reasons to stand up and face the world, to become part of it rather than a recluse looking out. And yes, I had to change. Change is scary, but it’s how we grow.”

Wallflower started sniffling, and without hesitation Twilight handed over her other handkerchief. “But I’ll be no good. You guys need me.”

“We’ll get by,” Twilight promised. “And we won’t abandon you.”

“I want to be useful.”

“Then find something you can do to help. None of us have superpowers – you don’t need them.”

“But I suck,” Wallflower mumbled. “I’m gross, I dress like a hobo…”

“Change, adapt,” Twilight coached. “Shower more and borrow Adagio’s shampoo. I’ll take you clothes shopping… actually, let’s bring everyone. I only know sweater vests and lab gear. At the end of this, you’ll be someone who wants to be seen.”

Wallflower gave a breathy little chuckle. She dabbed at her eyes with steady fingers. “I don’t think I’ll ever get that far.”

“Fine: you’ll be someone who isn’t embarrassed to be seen. Who doesn’t need anonymity to feel comfortable. And we’ll help you with whatever you need.”

“You sure there’s no… safe infusion?” Wallflower asked very softly, one last time. “Something with, you know, acceptable risk?”

Twilight replied, just as quietly. “Not without the chance that we’ll forget all about you. That’s not acceptable at all.”

Wallflower all but fell from the table, burying her face in Twilight’s chest. She sobbed, but no tears came. Green hands clutched the back of Twilight’s coat.

“I’m still pretty scared,” Wallflower whispered.

“Change is scary.” Twilight wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, steadying and embracing her. “But I promise you, it’ll get less scary as you go on.”

“…With all of us coming along on your way.”

Author's Notes:

Not specifically requested on the thread, but there has been some expressed desire to give Wallflower some more screen-time...

Idea submission thread here. And thank you for reading!

The Menacing Assault of Their Greatest Foe Yet (gore, character deaths, false advertising)

The creature stood before Sunset – a freakish mix of scales and short brown hair, topped with a crooked horn. It drew near on cloven hooves, with a lion-like tail swishing in anticipation. It walked up to where she sat, no taller than her knee, and bumped her shin with its nose.

Sunset reached down and began scratching its ears. A small rumble within its chest signified approval, though the creature’s neutral frown did not change.

“Applejack?” Sunset stretched her legs out from the camp seat, toying with a freshly-picked apple in her free hand.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell me there were Kirin living in your orchard?”

“Never really thought much about it,” Applejack said. One Kirin lounged across her lap, rumbling and frowning as she scratched its belly. “You run an orchard, you might get Kirin. That’s just how it is. They’re good at keeping down pests, you know.”

Sunset gave a contented sigh and reclined in her chair. Honestly, she didn’t much look forward to sleeping in a tent. The other girls were probably even less inclined, but no one quite had the heart to say ‘no’ when Applejack invited them to a campout.

So far, so good. Better than she expected. Hiking, swimming, and the novelty of cooking over an open fire.

And apparently, Kirin. A dozen-odd of them had descended on the campsite, diminutive and serious as they pressed the girls for attention. All utterly silent except for a tan-haired one jabbering nearly as excitedly as Twilight.

“…Oh-my-gosh this is so amazing! A chance to study living paranormal beings up close – raised your hoof, please.”

The grinning Kirin complied, and Twilight set-to with measurements and notes. “…And I’m so happy our leader let us come! Normally she’s ‘no, Autumn Blaze, we must remain secret,’ except she doesn’t say it like that because Kirin can’t speak and instead communicate telepathically. Except me, of course, I fell into the Stream of Speech way up in Canada and I was like ‘yay! I can translate now!’ But they were still ‘no, bad Autumn!’ Except we’ve been here long enough that she trusts the Apple family and…”

“…So fascinating! According to Princess Twilight’s book, they match the Kirin of Equestria in every detail except for their small size. This devastates my theory of the links between our worlds, and now I get to start from scratch all over again! This will be the best week ever! I get to sift through my old theories, contemplate the nature of the universe, experiment with…”

Perhaps jealous of its companions, the Kirin Sunset had been petting jumped onto her lap. She scratched at its tailbone and belly, earning more rumbles as it kneaded her jeans and settled to a comfortable perch.

The Kirin’s nose twitched and began sniffing her apple. Sunset shifted her hand down from the chair. “Nope. This is my dessert.”

A Kirin on the ground bit it out of her grasp and trotted away. Another bumped its nose against her leg. Sunset chuckled, awkwardly trying to scratch both her guests at once. “You doing okay, Wallflower?”

No answer came. Wallflower was sprawled on the ground and buried beneath a small pile of frowning, rumbling Kirin, with little visible save her grin.

Sunset looked to the side, briefly catching eyes with Adagio. The siren huffed and returned to her phone – the only thing she enjoyed about this trip was Applejack’s swimsuit.

Though Adagio’s lips quirked out at the contents of her own text. ‘You, me, dirty campout sex, tonight.’

She sent it, then groaned – Applejack had proudly switched off her phone that morning.

A Kirin nuzzled her leg. Adagio pushed it away with her foot. “Beat it.”

The Kirin walked right back and bumped her with its nose. Adagio pushed it away again. It sat down, sending its frowning gaze right at her.

“Too bad, so sad, I’m not into animals,” she said airily.

The Kirin continued to stare.

“I’m not petting you,” Adagio snapped. “I’ll get gristle under my nails and I’m already a mess.”

The Kirin pawed gently at the ground, never looking away.

Adagio rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Find someone else to manipulate. I’m immune.”

The Kirin yawned, flicked its ears, and resumed staring.

Undergrowth rustled as a final Kirin emerged into the campsite, this one the size of a full-grown horse. It approached Applejack with the same studious frown as the rest, and bowed its head.

“Good evening, Miz Rain Shine,” Applejack said, as easily as she would to any neighbor. “Just making a night of it with some friends, don’t mind us. I’ll be setting up the tent as soon as… you know…”

She gestured helplessly to the Kirin in her lap, who was now snoozing contentedly. The large Kirin watched it carefully for a second, with no hint of emotion before turning smoothly to Sunset.

It found her gaze, and she grinned weakly. Expression or no, there was age and wisdom in those eyes – deep red pools with the weight of a mother’s love. She was reminded of Celestia for no reason she could discern, and silently promised to give her a call before bedding down for the night.

Rain Shine walked over, and knocked the Kirin on Sunset’s lap to the ground with a sweep of her head. She then began turning around while giving her backside a little wiggle.

“Whoa, hey! No!” Sunset tried to wave her off. “You are too big for lap privileges.”

Rain Shine finished the turn, and slowly began descending to Sunset’s knees.

“No! Bad Kirin! Little help, Adagio?”

“Hm?” Adagio mumbled distractedly as she scratched a Kirin’s ears. “Sorry, I’m busy.”

Pressure turned to pain as Rain Shine began resting her rump on Sunset’s lap. She scrambled helplessly, but escape only came when the cheap camp chair fell apart under the weight. Sunset collapsed to the grass, and Rain Shine gave her a look of vague disappointment before wandering back and away, carefully stepping over Wallflower and her pile.

Author's Notes:

Just a little thang because I'll likely be dark for a bit because the next chapter is pretty good-sized.

Submission thread here. Life is rough, gimmee some fun ideas to read, pls.