CMC Family - Updated 12/10/15 [mlp]

Literacy

>"U-um Anon... Can ya teach me how ta read? Applejack has never taught me how an I uh... want to learn how ta say big words...
>Ah, the problems of laborers in a pre-industrial society.
"Tell me, little filly, why would you want me to teach you, instead of someone who's a native speaker?"
>"Well, because nobody else'll do it. They all tell me there ain't no use fer some little farm girl ta learn ta read."
"What about your family? Can't any of them read?"
>"No. And they tell me the same. No way they'll pay for me a teacher."
>"But you! When ya got here, ya couldn't speak a lick of Equish, and nowadays ya could hardly tell. All ah see ya do is sing and read."
>"Please? For me? For a friend?"
>True. The crusaders were some of your first friends when you got here. A little rambunctious for your tastes, but they were great kids.
>So, you figure you owed Applebloom this.
"Alrighty Bloom. Who am I to deny you if you don't want to grow up to work the farm as the fifth wife of some stallion."
>"YAY! Ah wonder if ah could get a cutie mark as a scholar, or a librarian. Or maybe ah could be a bard like you?"
"Oh ho! One step at a time, little filly!" you chuckle, patting her on the head. "We can begin immediately, but where..."
"Hmm, Applebloom, do you know your alphabet?"
>"My what?"
"Your letters. A B C?"
>"Oh, most of 'em. Ah think."
"Then that's where we'll start." You respond with a smile.
"Tell you what. Go gets Scoots while I make some flash cards, then meet me at home.

>"What about Sweetie?"
"Well, Sweetie's lucky enough that she can afford school, but you can get her too if you want."
>Without another word, the filly bolts off.
>A little under an hour later, the three fillies trot into your modest home on the edge of town.
>Applebloom and Sweetie both plop down and listen intently, despite Sweetie already being the only semi-literate one of the group.
>Scoots on the other hand seems largely disinterested, poking around a lot at your instruments and such when you're not speaking.
>Producing a thick stack of home made flash cards with letters on one side and related single syllable words on the other, you begin teaching the girls.
>First going through the letters in order. Then making a little tune out of it. Then seeing if they could get them out of order.
>No dice on the last one yet, but Scoots started getting a little more involved when the singing started.
>After several hours, you notice the sun is already setting.
"Alright girls. It's getting dark, time to head home."
>"AWW!" They cry in unison.
"Tell you what though. I'll be playing in the part tomorrow. Come by and, after lunch we'll learn a little more."
>The fillies hug you in an adorable, fluffy mass before shuffling out into the orange painted evening, until only Scoots stands at your threshold.
>"Hey, Anon?"
"Yeah Scoots?"
>"It's really nice of you to be teaching us for free and all, but I don't know if it's my thing, you know?"

"Well, if you're not having fun, I can't stop you from quitting. But I'd highly recommend learning. I don't know how people can do without it."
>"What I mean is, you think maybe we could skip to learning how to do bard stuff or whatever?"
"Oh, is that all?" You ask as you pat her head. "Sure, I'll try teaching you. But you'll have to promise me something."
>"What?"
"That you'll learn this first, and trust it'll make your life much better."
>"Alright Anon." She says with a small pout.
>Holding out your arms for her, the filly forgets her concerns and jumps into a big hug, before finally running off.
>Before the night's over, you set to work setting up a couple of things for tomorrow.
>Stitching together pieces of papyrus, parchment and whatever other scant pieces of writing material you had available, you begin writing down "first time readers" books from memory.
>By bed time, you've even found time to sketch down some simple pictures to accompany things.
>You're not sure if they'll stick with it, or if it's just another thing they'll abandon if it doesn't produce a cutie mark in short order, but you're willing to try if they are.
-
>The next day goes by much as planned.
>You sit near the center of the park, do a little freestyle playing for tips, take a couple requests.
>As you're eating lunch, the crusaders show up as planned.
>Taking a seat on a bench, the four of you happily munch away for a while.

>When the fillies finally finish, you pull out one of your books and pull the crusaders close.
"Alrighty girls, let's pick up where we left off. Sweetie, why don't you try reading to the group?"
>"I...are you sure?"
"I know you can do it Sweetie. Take it slow and sound out your words. It isn't a race."
>Nodding, she seems to look over the page a couple of times before she actually starts.
>"One fish. Two fish. Red fish. Blue fish."
-
>These lessons continue much like this for the next couple of months, with the girls getting more and more skilled as time goes on.
>One day however, Applebloom fails to turn up.
>Then another, and another.
>At first you chalked it up to her being sick or something. But when Sweetie Belle and Scoots tell you that the Apples won't let them see her, you figure something's up.
>Making the long trek to through the winding orchards, you eventually find yourself standing on the threshold of the Apple clan's home.
>Knocking, the door swings open almost instantly, where a small, orange pony stares up at you.
>"Ah figured ya'd be comin' by sooner or later."
"I came to see if Applebloom was alright."
>"You would. But she ain't allowed to see ya anymore."
"For whatever reason?"
>"Follow me. There's someone ya need ta be talkin' too."
>Nodding, you trail behind the pony, not knowing where she was taking you.
>You would have guessed to find her brother or something.
>Instead, you were lead into town, and to Golden Oaks, home of Twilight Sparkle.

>You'd had a lot of contact with Twilight. She was easily the most learned and intelligent pony in the town.
>She was also a condescending, holier-than-thou toady who was utterly lacking in wisdom or the ability to make sensical choices.
>In other words, she could absorb and regurgitate information with ease, but unless it was directly magic related, she usually didn't seem to know what that knowledge actually meant.
>Sighing, you enter and take a seat.
>You wait and wait as Applejack trots upstairs to talk with the rather annoying unicorn.
>"Good evening Anonymous. I'm sure you know why you're here."
"Nope."
>"Nope?"
"All I know is that, for some reason, Applejack doesn't want me around her sister, who loves me dearly, and wants me to talk to you."
>"Lying won't help you Anonymous."
>Letting out a heavy sigh, you know you won't make much progress trying to convince her otherwise.
"Let's just pretend I don't know, then. Please explain. Humor me."
>"You're here because your sudden decision to start tutoring the fillies in town is a problem."
"A problem? I'm surprised at you Twilight. I know we don't get along too well because you suck more ass than a party in Mexico, but I figured you of all people would approve of me spreading literacy."
>The puffed up unicorn takes a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing.
>"The problem, Anonymous, is that it's a serious social mistake to try to influence someone's cutie mark."
>"And cuz Bloom ain't 'round ta help on the farm anymore."

>"And that, yes."
"And what exactly does that mean? The influence part."
>"It's why ponies usually just tell foals they'll get it when they get it. Nobody knows how destiny works, it's wrong to try to change it."
>"But by dedicating dozens of hours towards pushing them in a specific direction, you're interfering with destiny's plans. Do you understand, Anonymous?"
>God, she said that last part with that patronizing "I'm smarter than you" tone she so loves.
"Tell me, Twilight. Is it illegal?"
>"Excuse me?"
""Interfering with destiny" and influencing a cutie mark. Is it a crime?"
>"Well, no. But it's highly frowned upon."
"Well then, with all due respect, destiny can piss off. This is why you people are so stagnant."
"Almost nobody learns anything complex, or beyond their bounds. Most learn something simple and stick with it for life."
>"What? We're not stagnant!"
"When's the last time ponies had any significant change to the foundation of their culture? About 600 years ago when Celestia updated the laws on older customs, right?"
"You've got millions of ponies in the world, and really only a handful of different marks between them. Less, if you eliminate ones that have the same meaning with a different art style."
"And you, Applejack. I ex-"
>"Anonymous, who do you think-"
"Purple pony will be quiet now. I'm talking to Applejack. I expected better from you, AJ. I thought you cared about your sister."

>"Course ah care about my sister! Ah just wanna make sure she has the right life."
"What life would that be? Farming, perhaps?"
>"That's what we've been doin' for generations. And we'll be doin' it fer many more, ah reckon."
"All well and good. Farmers are vitally important. But if Applebloom has the wit to become something more, is it right to take it from her so she can live your dream?"
>Applejack stays silent for a minute, staring in your eyes in an attempt to intimidate. But is starts to crack, deflating a lot of tension from the room.
>"No...no it ain't fair."
"Maybe she'll calm down and work the farm at some point, maybe not. But as long as those girls are willing to learn, I'm willing to teach them."
>"Alright partner. Ah'm...Ah guess Applebloom can hang out with ya again if she wants. But ah got my eyes on ya. Ya hear?"
"Loud and clear, AJ."
-
>The next day, the three fillies meet you again as normal.
>You chat, play and, as their boundless energy winds down a bit, settle in for lessons.
>This time however, they surprise you.
>"We want you to read this one with us, Anon!" they say as they pull out one of the several simple books you made for them.
>"Ah'll start!" responds the yellow filly, as she opens the rough, somewhat corrupted book.
>"The little hare was going to bed, an' held on tight to Big Hare's long ears. She wanted to be sure that Big Hare was listenin'. "Guess how much I love ya", she said."
"Oh, I don't think I could guess that," You reply with a small smile.


------------------------------------------------------------------
Sweetie's Nightmare
Continuation of Literacy

>Its been almost a year since you took on the mantle of tutor to the crusaders.
>Reading, some math, music, as much writing as you could teach over the appendage barrier, the same limitations that prevented you being much help with flight and magic.
>You even taught them a little of your native tongue. Mostly out of curiosity, but the idea of having something special just between the four of you, it meant a lot to them.
>Though you still needed to read the harder books for them, but they were learning fast, and very much coming into their own.
>Scoots had a preference for anything relating to new things. Adventure and travel books, descriptions of oddities or foreign lands and their native people.
>Sweetie preferred music, especially the drastic differences in literal pony and the more abstract human music. She expressed a lot of interest in following in your foot steps as a bard.
>Applebloom simply loved anything practical. Anything that taught her how to actually do something with her hooves was welcomed. With special emphasis on woodwork and alchemy.
>You tried to keep her from pushing too far from her skill level on those last two.
>Indeed, it would seem over the last year, you've gone from being these fillies friend, to almost being their father.
>The families noticed too, and given that ponies highly polygamous nature made highly involved dads rare, they welcomed your guidance.

>It's also possible that they noticed that when the three steadfast friends were together, you were the only one remotely capable of keeping them under control, and you didn't mind babysitting.
>Lately, nights like tonight, when the fillies would stay at your place, have become increasingly common.
>You, laying in bed, listening to the patter of rain on the roof and the rumble of thunder in the distance, trying desperately to find sleep.
>Sadly, you didn't have a guest room. The initially xenophobic nature of the ponies, and how far off the house is caused you to neglect wasting money on one. So there wasn't an extra bed.
>But you did have a semi permanent cot in the living room. Closer to a literal fortress of pillows, cushions and blankets actually.
>You'd offered the bed a few times but, sweet kids that they are, didn't accept.
>As you finally feel yourself slipping into sleep, an extremely loud thunder crack shackes to entire house.
>In a sensation that can only be described as a glass pane shattering over your face, you're rudely jerked back into reality.
>Once the disorienting sensation wears off, however, you notice you're not alone.
>Openly crying, one of your fillies now sits in the corner.
>You light your lantern, intent on finding out who your guest is. A question quickly answered by the sight of ivory fur and tight curls.
"Sweetie? What's wrong?"
>"I...I had a bad dream. Can I sleep in here with you, Anon?"

"Of course Sweetie. But, when did you get in here? I never saw you come in."
>"I, umm, ran in when I heard the lightning. It scared me."
>She was probably debating waking you up for a while.
>The filly walks up and simply stands beside the bed. It takes a moment before you realize she intends to sleep standing, her fear causing her fight or flight instincts to kick in.
"No no, Sweetie. We're not doing that. Come up here."
>She looks around nervously for a moment before nodding.
>It takes her a few tries to get into the bed, but she makes it.
>Cutting the lights, you try to settle in.
>Not that easy, given the shivering filly next to you.
"Wanna talk about it Sweetie?"
>"Uh uh."
>Pulling her directly into your side, you stroke the fillys back a bit before trying again.
"You sure, Sweetie?"
>"Alright." She starts with a heavy sigh. "I dreamed that Rarity asked me to help her design dresses. She actually let me help! But I messed up."
>"I messed up so bad that she said I wasn't her sister anymore. And then everyone agreed. Then the town didn't like me, then the rest of my family. Then you, and Apple Bloom and Scootaloo."
"Aww." You say as you stroke her mane. "There's nothing you could do to make me shun you."
>"I know, but...it felt so real."
"I know, I know. But it's just a dream. Don't worry."
>To emphasize this, you adjust her position, placing her face near yours.

>In and out, air is shared in the small space between you. An act ponies tended to regard as one of extreme mutual trust, and one of safety.
>Despite the fact that your breath no doubt still carries the smell of meat, this has a demonstably positive effect on the filly, quickly calming her down.
>She climbs higher, draping her neck over yours in the equine version of a hug.
>"Thank you Anon. I love you."
"I love you too Sweetie." you say, petting her back. "I love you too."
>You begin humming a small melody for the nervous filly, one she soon casually matches.
>It stops soon though as she drifts asleep, leaving you to do the same to the rain and the constant gurgling sounds of her plump horsey belly.

-------------------------

Hearth's Warmingmas

>"So what are we looking for again, Anon?"
"I told you Scoots, a nice pine tree, a holly bush, and some mistletoe."
>"What about this one?" Sweetie calls out, indicating one that comes up to about your chest.
"Nah, we need one taller than that, Sweetie."
>"This one?"
"Hmm, that one's a bit too tall, Bloom. It's going inside, after all."
>"Howdy ya'll. Whatcha doin way out here?"
>"Hey sis!"
"Hey Applejack. I'm just hanging out in the woods. With three fillies and an axe."
>The dark joke seems to go over the childrens heads, but AJ gives a small chuckle as she rolls her eyes.
>"Well ah can see that. But why?"
>"We're lookin' for a Christmas tree!"
>"Never hearda that kinda tree. What is it."
"No no. Christmas is a holiday from back home. I was thinking of celebrating it with the girls."
>"Oh, what's it about?"
"Hmm, well that's changed over the years, but nowadays it's a largely inclusive holiday that's mostly about family togetherness. Think of it as our version of Hearth's warming eve."
>You decide to leave complaints over modern profiteers out. The traditions are what matter here.
>"So when's this gonna happen?"
"On the 25th. Would you like to come? Scoots family didn't care, and Sweetie's were too busy."
>"Ah'd have ta check if any of winter crop'll be in that day, but ah kin try. Anything ah should keep in mind for this little shindig?"
"Not really, just turn up early."

>The next few days are a flurry of activity.
>You and the girls make wreaths, ornaments are created from everything from small knick-knacks to pretty rocks and smooth glass wrapped in twine.
>In addition to some candy, and some cold weather clothes you'd hand made after several attempts at learning said skill, you decide to get each a little more personal.
>For Applebloom a proper mortar and pestle to further her growing interest in alchemy.
>For Sweetie, a simple leather drum. Plain, but durable enough for ponies serious about learning.
>Scootaloo is a little more complicated. She's been talking about exploring lands unknown, or being a soldier. But you don't know if you could stomach things deliberately trying to hurt her.
>So you decided to get her a trick suit, the kind that cuts wind resistence without restricting movement. It's still something that interests her, and it's a lot safer than the alternatives.
>Finally, the day comes. It starts on a somewhat sour note, being woken at about five in the morning, because you forgot what farmers consider early.
>Still, besides the annoying start, it's a fun day. There's food, games, fun. The girls enjoy their gifts, and Bloom especially enjoys that her whole family was able to turn up.
>However, when you decide to go to upstairs, AJ manages to catch you alone.
>"Anon, ah've been wantin talk to ya."
"Sure AJ, what's up?"
>"Well, them fillies have taken quite a shine to ya, and-"

"I've already told you I don't want to talk about this.
>"Well it's somethin' ya need to. Anon, them fillies 'll be hittin estrus in about a year, and when they do, they'll be achin' ta herd up right quick."
"I know, AJ. But, I prefer not to think about that."
>"Ah know, ya told me how ya do things where you come from. But this ain't there."
>"Anon, ah know ya feel like their dad, but most stallions don't treat their own daughters as well as you do those three. They ain't gonna be lookin' at nobody but you."
"Look, AJ, I'll deal with it when that time comes."
>"And what do ya intend ta do?"
"I intend to do what's right for them."
>"That ain't really a proper answer, Anon."
"Well, it's the best one I have right now."
>Loud squeels from downstairs draw your attention, causing you to both peek down.
>"OH! Scootaloo's under the mistletoe! Know what that means?" Bloom says, right before she and Sweetie pin the embarrassed pegasus's cheeks between an innocent, teasing kiss.
>AJ looks back up to you with a smile.
>"They really do love you, ya know? Ah just dont wantcha to break their little hearts."
"I know AJ, I know. We should really get back to the party."
>Maybe you'll break out that cask of cider after all...

----------------------------------

Winter Years

>It's a bit lively today. Everyone at home for a random get together.
>You, Peach and Polo all took off work. Your shared stallion, Ice Wind is home as usual. The foals are tearing through the house like tornados, as they tend to do.
>And your brother Pear popped in from the Sweet Apple with his herd and foals in tow.
>The house is full of laughter, cooking, and play.
>Until you pass by dad's room.
>From inside, you can hear distint sounds of crying.
>With a sad sigh, you turn to go in.
>Hand on the knob, you take some time to gather your courage. He's been doing this a lot lately.
>However, when the sounds abrubtly stop, you become concerned and cautiously crack the door.
>Inside, your father sits on his large steamer chest, the natural light pouring in from the window being the only thing brightening the room.
"Dad? I heard...noises. Are you okay?"
>Dad looks at you from his seat, a look of utter confusion across his face.
>For an agonizing amount of time, he just stares, before he finally manages to speak.
>"I'm sorry. I know you're supposed to be my daughter but, for the life of me I can't remember your name."
>Your heart drops. This is getting more frequent every day.
"S'more, Dad."
>"Sure, Sweetie Belle. I could go for some s'mores."
"Dad, I'm not... Alright, I'll be back in a little while."
>Dad has been in a spiral ever since the last of your mothers died.
>Scootaloo, then Sweetie, then Applebloom. He took it really hard.

>He'd never admit it, but he had a lot of regret that they only ever got to spend a little time with was Pear's foals, and never saw their other grandkids.
>But it can't be helped, you suppose.
>Between humans clearly outliving ponies by...a lot, and his refusal to let "just any random wife beating stallion" marry his little girls, you all herded much older than normal.
>You suppose it's merciful he was so much older than them. Before his mind started to fade, he was drifting into a very dark place.
>Gathering your ingredients you set in front of the hearth to get started.
>"Hey S'more. Whatcha doin?"
"Nothing, Pear. Just making...s'mores."
>"Dad got confused again?"
"Yeah. It's alright."
>"Want me to take him off your hands for a while?"
"Thanks, but you don't need to do that."
>"Ah, don't worry. You three guys live with 'em, it's only right I do my part when I'm over. 'Sides, some time out of the house could do him some good." he says, patting your shoulders.
>A few minutes later, Pear's managed to get dad down to the door. Thanfully, the old man was still in good shape for his age, in body if not in mind.
>"Bah, stop pushing me, son. I don't feel like going anywhere."
>Well there goes that idea.
>"But grampa!" Begins a small, purple haired centaur filly as she enters the fray. "You promised to take me fishing a week ago and you still haven't!"
>"Did I? Oh. Well come on Tango, let's get going then. Hope the fish are biting." He says with a smile as he takes the child's small hand.

>"You know Tango, you remind me a lot of your mom. I'm sure she'd be proud."
>"Thanks grampa." Tango says, ignoring her grandfather's comment. Mixing his generation order up being a fairly common occurance.
>As the three leave, you give Pear a hug, a thank you, and the plate of s'mores.
>With dad gone, you can feel the tension deflate, at least a little. There's still a lot of children in the house to worry about.
>It's not the you don't love him, he's your dad. He was the best dad in the world in your opinion. It's just that he can't really take care of himself anymore, and you worry a lot.
~
>A few more years pass. Once again, the entire family sits together as it often does. But this time, there's no laughter, no joy.
>Dad had quietly passed in his sleep a month ago. By pony tradition, his ashes were mixed with his wives before spreading the four of them in the plains.
>Today, you're handling an issue of inheritence.
>Property, heirlooms and money were handled right after it happend.
>Today, now that everyone's had some time to grieve, you would sit as a family and decide who got what from the effects in his room that weren't mentioned in the will.
>There's a little bickering, as expected, but it's mostly a somber, respectful affair.
>Until you get to the last thing he owned.
>The large trunk in his room. Since you were a child, he never let you look inside. You, your siblings, your foals, even your mothers you don't think.

>It was always something deeply personal to him, and everyone kind of just learned to accept that, but nobody had any clue what was in it.
>Using the key that was found on his body, Peach unlocks the chest and slowly slides it open as everyone expectantly leans in.
>Inside is not at all what anyone expected. Countless childish knick-knacks, all hand made and carefully organized fill the box.
>Crude carvings, amateur needle work, a bad painting, a haphazard dream catcher, a colorful necklace made of worthless materials.
>Carefully removing the items, they lay out like a timeline.
>Things given to him by his grandkids, some weeks or even days before he passed.
>Things you, Peach, Polo, and Pear gave him as little kids.
>Even the meaningless things a child would give out of obligation. All kept long after they'd been forgotten by anyone else, until they were holding those memories in their hands.
>Then you hit things that belonged to your mothers. It's mostly the same stuff, just even older.
>And at the very bottom, wrapped in a maroon cape with a blue and gold insignia of a pony is a single drawing, like so many others in the box.
>On extremely old, yellowed parchment is a smudged and faded drawing of a human and three fillies.
>A white unicorn, an orange pegasus, and a yellow earth pony who's almost invisible on the aged paper if not for her bright red mane. All drawn in different styles.
>On the back, in shaky, semi-literate writing are the words "to anon owr best frand n the hole wide world".