Can't Buy Me Love

(I started this one back in 2016 but didn't come back and write the rest of it until a year later.)

(Some stories you write never really click into place, even though there are parts of it that you really love. This is one of those kinds of stories for me. A lot of it is half-assed, mainly the parts I wasn't interested in writing, and it shows. No one in Flutterrape liked this one when I posted it and I don't blame any of them. There's no forgiving lazy writing. I had a lot of unfinished stories in my Pastebin, but this one has always bugged me the most with that feeling of incompleteness.)

***

>You sat alone at your kitchen table and watched the sun’s sleepy ascent light up the sky on that peaceful morning.
>Your coffee was good, your toes were warm, and it was the weekend, which meant you did not have to work today.
>‘Feels like it’ll be a good day,’ you thought.
>But you took a moment to yourself and sighed, because you knew better.
>Fluttershy would soon be visiting you.
>Soon you would hear her knock on your door and she would interrupt any peace you may have had.
>She came every morning, sometimes to engage in small talk, sometimes with an offer to do something for you, sometimes with an activity planned for the both of you that you had no previous idea of.
>But always she came to visit with the intent to endear herself to you, hoping that your staunch opposition to a relationship with her would soften following her kindness and eagerness to please.
>Lately her attempts had been more overtly vulgar and, sometimes, even downright odd.
>She started trying to guess your fetish in an attempt to make her seem more sexually appealing to you.
>Ever since this development you could say that you had seen a shy little pony stuff her entire tail into places so dark that no man’s solitude could ever reach it.
>Such stories, if told, could silence anyone who marches confidently forward in life believing that he has the fortitude to withstand every unexpected fate that life will have for him.
>No one ever expects that they will one day have to fight off a timid pony with an odd hunger for rape.
>They are all liars, otherwise.
>Still, you could rest easy for now, not having heard her fateful knock yet.
>You knew you should really enjoy your morning while you could.
>It was often the only peaceful part of your day, and the only time when you could be all by yourself.
>Being a civilian guard in Ponyville meant controlling crowds and keeping ponies calm during times of crisis, as well as asserting your authority in civil disturbances so as to keep the general peace.
>It was a thankless job that you hated, and one that most other ponies hated when you performed it.
>But it kept you out of doing menial factory work or hard labor, so you did not mind it.
>It was easy, too, since most ponies were easily intimidated by your size and purposefully avoided you anyway.
>Not a second later you heard Fluttershy knock at your door.
>You felt all of the peace leave your body as you rose slowly from your chair to answer your door.
>But the door, opened and seen empty of visitors, rekindled your calm and, looking down, you smiled in relief when you saw the morning paper at your feet, judging it to be the noise heard earlier.
>You should have known that it was not Fluttershy, because absent was the faint music that always accompanied her morning presence.
>You were neighbors to two musician ponies, and one of them was a DJ named Vinyl Scratch, who found amusement in playing love songs on her outside speakers whenever Fluttershy showed.
>You looked to their house and caught a brief glimpse of her purple sunglasses peeping at you from her window.
>She ducked from your eyes and quickly pulled her shades down.
>Back in the kitchen you briefly scanned the front page of the newspaper.
>Pictured was a pink alicorn, with solemn determination in her eyes, looking out from a crystal balcony, the blushing evening sky visible in the background.
>After nearly half a year in Equestria, you were surprised that you could not place the name of this princess.
>You read the article, wondering who she was.
>It read:
>‘Today, after earlier learning of a heartbreaking story of devoted love from one party that had yet been unreturned by the other, Princess Cadance was moved to offer a reward of 100,000 bits to any pony that could successfully bring together, in true love’s union, Fluttershy, a pegasus living in Ponyville, and a human named . . .’
Oh Fuck!
>You read the article over and over again until your fingers trembled, gripping the paper until the edges had creased.
>When you could move again you ran to Twilight’s, who listened to your bewildered harangue as she read the article.
>She kept nodding and agreeing with what you said, but she also seemed more invested in the article than in your words.
It’s a travesty, a disaster, a completely unsolicited invasion of my privacy by some princess who is supposed to be setting a better example.
>“Yes . . . yeah . . . uh huh . . .”
>You were not sure if she was really listening to you or not.
>Though you were annoyed with Twilight and angry at the thoughtlessness of this princess, you were not surprised that such a strange, cruel action had happened to you.
>Fluttershy’s love for you ruined your life.
>She did not ruin it through her continued advances or her strange fetish guesses, but by means that were not entirely her own fault.
>Anything Fluttershy did was enough for you to handle.
>Alone, she was not enough to ruin your life.
>The ponies that knew of your constant rejections of Fluttershy were often endeared with her and did not regard you kindly.
>The species gap between you and her, which you thought served a sound reason for your rejection, was not sufficient enough for those who believed that her love was real and that you were cold and unfeeling for denying her so quickly.
>As time passed and Fluttershy’s resolve only grew, it seemed that the eyes and ears of the town’s ponies were burning whenever you stepped out in public.
>The entire time you had been in Equestria nobody had ever really talked to you, paid you any mind, or wanted to be around you.
>Then, along with your odd stature, you also developed an unfair reputation as a stoic and curt person.
>It sealed your fate, and soon you preferred to just be alone.
>You socialized with no one, only performed the necessary duties, and learned to enjoy the peace in solitude.
>You leaned on the wall while Twilight paced round the foyer, her face obscured by the picture of the pink princess.
Twilight, can this princess actually do this to me? Where’s the money coming from?
>“She’s the princess of love,” Twilight said. “She can easily get the money for a cause like this.”
Oh, well bully for her and bullshit for me.
>Twilight visibly bristled at your vulgar outburst but you simply turned aside, ignoring her until she went back to reading the article.
>“It says here that she found out about this through an anonymous letter sent to her weeks ago.”
That could have been anyone in this town. But if it was an anonymous letter, then I’m betting it was Fluttershy.
>“I don’t think that Fluttershy is the kind of pony that would ask the princess to do something this bold.”
>Hearing Twilight speak of her faith in Fluttershy made you roll your eyes, but you ignored her ignorance.
So, what’s the deal with this princess anyway? Where does she get off making my private affairs public like she did?
>“Well, she is the princess of love. I’m sure she had a good reason.”
She should be the princess of really stupid and irresponsible decisions. The fucking nerve of this bitch, I can’t believe it.
>Twilight stopped pacing and, in the following silence, glowered at you.
>“You do know that she’s my sister-in-law, right?”
>You felt your face color.
Oh, uh . . . sorry . . . yeah . . .
>You shrugged and avoided her eyes so she would not press the matter.
>Secretly though, you hoped that one day this beloved sister-in-law would publicly air Twilight’s struggles in love, should they come up.
>Here’s a headline:
>‘The princess of friendship, Twilight Sparkle, again missed her chance to lose her virginity when she was friend-zoned by Canterlot guard Flash Sentry.’
>“I know how you feel, though,” Twilight said with a sigh. “I’m surprised that Cadance would do this. I wonder what she’s thinking.”
>Instead of suggesting that she wasn’t thinking, you said:
Well, I know what I’m thinking. With this reward being out now, every pony in town has got an excuse to come around and bother me about Fluttershy—
>The front doors to Twilight’s castle burst open.
>Rainbow Dash, flying right past you, went up to Twilight and presented her own newspaper to her.
>“Did you see this?” she said. “Cadance is putting out a huge reward to any pony that can get Fluttershy rutting our human friend on the regular.”
>Twilight’s awkward silence following her excited entrance confused Dash.
>Dash crossed her arms.
>“Um, hello? Is that awesome or what? Were you even listening?”
>After a bath in the next silence, you cleared your throat loud enough to echo in the castle halls.
>Dash turned around, but any display of shame went hidden as she flew towards you and stopped when you both were face to face.
>“So, I’ve never asked this before,” she said, placing a hoof on your shoulder, struggling to sound concerned behind her excitement; “but how come you don’t like Fluttershy?”
>You squinted your eyes at her as she pulled her smile further until, respectively, you looked like an old, mean boar and she a sly, greedy pig.
>“Come on”—she tapped your shoulder playfully—“I know you’re cool. You can totally tell me.”
>You rose from the wall, looked past Dash and towards Twilight, and, gesturing to Dash’s greedy position, said:
This is going to be my whole fucking life from here on out.
>You turned to leave the castle while muttering about how this bullshit shouldn’t’ve been happening on your day off.
>Your head was sinking between your sulking shoulders, but Dash stayed at your side and kept pestering you.
>“You actually do like Fluttershy and you’re just playing it cool, right . . . ? . . . You can tell me. What’s a secret between friends . . . ? . . . Hey, wait up!”
>Outside you walked until, ahead of you on a street, you saw Octavia limping along on her crutch.
>She had broken her arm a long time ago—you weren’t sure exactly when.
>She carried none of her posh charms anymore.
>After having been deprived of playing her bass for so long, her manner and speech had changed completely.
>Coming up behind two ponies, you heard her say:
>“Fuckin’ bollocks! These damn mash and taters wankers, makin’ me hobble all the way to the back.”
>Judging by what she said, there must have been a line of ponies going round the corner of the block in front of you.
>“What are they all in line for?” Dash said.
Sugar Cube Corner, maybe.
>“Aren’t you going to check it out?”
Did you not hear me when I said that it was my day off earlier?
>But you had a bad feeling in your stomach, and a strong suspicion that made you feel glad that these ponies all had their backs to you.
>Dash flew up to get a better look.
>Octavia, turning around, nearly dropped her crutch in surprise when she saw you staring at her from down the street.
>Her eyes seemed fixed on you, and she started hobbling towards you as quickly as her crutch would allow her.
>She probably needed help crossing the street again.
>She had started asking for your help ever since you had pulled her out from under the wheels of that speeding manure carriage.
>Before you could tell her that it was your day off, Dash came down and said:
>“I hate to tell you this, but the line goes all the way to your house.”
My house? But I live ten blocks away.
>Dash frowned with a shrug.
>By then Octavia, panting and swearing under her breath, had reached you.
>She had red eyes, mangy mane and coat, and (as always) spoke just loud enough for her voice to grate your ears.
>“Oi, you’re that cunt that don’t love Fluttershy, yea?”
>You couldn’t even find words to remind her what your name was this time.
>She dropped to her knees and moved towards you in a beggar’s stance.
>“Why ain’t you fuckin’ ‘er then, mate? I got to know so I can get that scratch and stop me bass itch.”
>The ponies in line slowly started turning around.
Look, I’ve got to go.
>She leaped forward, wrapping her arms around your waist and holding on desperately.
>“Haven’t played me fuckin’ bass in months, love, and I’m runnin’ out of money in me rainy day’s clutch.”
>Looking up, her eyes glistened with tears.
>“Oi, I miss the fuckin’ music, love, you hear?”
>You pushed her off and she crumpled face first down on the ground.
>She lifted her face out the dirt, glared at you, and spit some dirt out before yelling:
>“Shit! I tell you me fuckin’ sob story and you just toss me aside like I’m some shitty nappy. Have you seen me arm? Can’t even rub me minge let alone play bass.”
Can’t you play the triangle or something else?
>“U having a giggle? I’ve spent years practicing bass. I can’t just switch to another fuckin’ instrument on da fly. Don’t even know the first thing about that instrument’s finer techniques.”
All you do is hit it at the right moment.
>“If I played an instrument, it’d be electric guitar,” Dash said.
You can play that with hooves?
>“Oi, pay attention to me when I’m fuckin’ crying in desperation!”
>She struggled up onto her hooves, using her crutch as leverage, before she lunged towards you and fell forward into the dirt again.
>She rolled onto her back and, wincing, pressed a hoof to her muzzle.
>“Ow! Me olfactory instrument is twinging!”
You need to stop jumping at me.
>“Stop letting me fall then, wanker.”
>The other ponies began to notice you.
>You broke into a run, followed by Dash.
>You could hear the ponies in the line breaking free and following you, as well as the indelicate shouting of Octavia, probably being trampled under their hooves.
>“Oi, faggot, I know why you don’t love Fluttershy. It’s cause you’re a fuckin’ cunt, mate, that’s why!”
>After running many blocks away, the two of you found shelter in an alley and hid between the dumpsters that lined the damp shaded brick walls.
>When the sound of hooves trampling the ground died away, you turned to Dash, who was huddled next to you.
What the flying fuck was that? Does every pony in this town have a newspaper subscription?
>“I guess so,” Dash said. “Heck, I’ve got one and I don’t even read the paper. I just use them to line the bottom of Tank’s bed.”
I’ll give you credit for one thing, Dash. At least when you harassed me you didn’t come off as desperate as that weirdo Octavia did.
>Dash winced.
>“That was kind of rough to see.”
Yeah, I’ll probably see the dark side of every pony in town if I don’t find a way to stop this.
>You sighed.
Still can’t believe this shit had to happen on my day off.
>“I don’t know how you’re going to stop it. That line went all the way to your house, and it looked like every pony was in it.”
Think they’re all spread out looking for me yet?
>“No, we should be safe for now.”
>Just then a loud rustling noise came in the alley.
>The top lid of the dumpster to your right was opening slightly and then falling shut in short intervals, as though someone was inside it.
>“Never mind,” Dash said.
>Backing away, you watched as the top lid opened all the way and Fluttershy, with garbage-stained mane, tossed an armful of garbage out into the alley.
>Her dirt-encircled eyes eventually saw you and Dash, and behind her caked cheeks she wore a look of confusion, which turned to shame.
>“Oh, um, what are you two doing here?” she said.
>She started hiding behind her mane, which was full of wrappers and lollipop sticks.
>“I wasn’t expecting either of you. Oh, I wish you hadn’t seen me looking like this.”
>“What are you doing here?” Dash said.
>“I was just dumpster diving,” said Fluttershy. “Just gathering things so I could make found-items sculptures.”
>She turned to you.
>“They were going to be of you and me acting out some things I read about in the Karma Sutra.”
You bitch!
>You leaped towards her, your hands aiming for her throat, but Dash pulled her out of the dumpster and carried her so she was slightly above you.
>You jumped, trying to grab her anyway.
You’re making fucking stupid ass sculptures after what you just did to me. I should make a damn hanging sculpture using your neck and some piano wire—damn you . . .
>As you continued to rant, Fluttershy turned her ears down, smiled nervously, and said:
>“Well, um, maybe we could just skip this one fetish, if you’d like.”
>After you calmed down and Dash explained what was going on, Fluttershy confessed.
>“But I sent that letter over two months ago,” she said. “And I certainly didn’t ask Princess Cadance to do anything like what the newspaper said.”
So this is all that fucking princesses’ fault.
>Fluttershy nodded.
>“I just wanted her advice on what I should do to make you love me. But what she’s doing is just . . . so embarrassing,” she said, covering her reddening face.
I know how to fix this then. We’ll just write her another letter, tell her how much of a boner she’s being, and get her to retract the reward.
>“But that letter could take another couple of months to reach her,” Fluttershy said.
That’s why we’re going to send it to the press.
>“Oh, but that wouldn’t be very nice of us to do.”
That’s why we’re doing it.
>“Or we could just get Spike to send it straight to her,” Dash said.
>“I like that idea much better,” Fluttershy said.
>You rolled your eyes.
Well, if we didn’t want to slander her name, then I guess that that could work too.
>“Problem solved then,” Dash said.
So, do either of you have a quill and scroll?
>Silence lingered, along with the stench of Fluttershy’s dumpster odor.
>“I’m sure Twilight will have all that for us, when we get there,” Dash said.
Good point.
>“Let’s go then,” Dash said.
Well, there’s one more problem. How are we going to get past the ponies that are looking for me and Fluttershy?
>“From what you said, it sounds like the whole town wants to find us,” Fluttershy said.
>Dash’s eyes went back and forth between Fluttershy and something further down the alley.
>Then she broke out in a winning smile.
>“Hey, I’ve got a pretty awesome idea.”
>You cringed at the sound of that.
>Much later, Rainbow Dash was trotting and pushing a dumpster through the streets of town.
>“Look out!” she screamed, “hot garbage coming through! Stand aside! Dumpster coming your way!”
>Inside, you and Fluttershy were cramped together on opposite ends.
>In silence you could hear the wheels squeaking, the trash rustling, and the occasional question, like:
>“Are you sure this isn’t your feti—”
Just because you keep asking me the same question, does not mean that I will think it over again every time.
>“Sorry.”
>But you know in five minutes she’s just going to . . .
>“But don’t you think it’d be kind of nice to have dumpster sex?”
>There was no way for you to answer such a question; and you didn’t.
>“It’d be kind of kinky,” she said. “I didn’t even see it in the Karma Sutra, and I’ve never had dumpster sex before.”
You’ve never had sex before.
>“You’d be my first in two ways.”
Shut up, Fluttershy.
>Just then the dumpster stopped rolling.
Are we here? Dash?
>There was no reply.
>You peeked out of the lid.
>That was when you saw that you were at the foot of the biggest hill in town.
>It towered over every house below it and had a downward slope the length of nearly three football fields.
Dash! No!
>“Aw, yeah!” Dash shouted, jumping on top of the dumpster as it tipped and started to career down the hill.
>You fell back in and the force of the dumpster’s fall flattened you against the wall you leaned on.
>Fluttershy then came crashing into you.
>Your crotches interlocked and her arms wrapped tightly around your body as she screamed.
>Finally the dumpster fishtailed until, the back wheels turning over, it fell on its side and skidded to a stop down the hill, all of its contents spilling out in the street.
>You fell out and hit the ground on your back with Fluttershy still wrapped around you, both of you in a daze.
>From somewhere nearby you could hear Rainbow Dash praising her own stunt, until she was cut off by a voice you recognized as Mayor Mare’s.
>“Rainbow Dash, did you just steal and wreck one of the town’s dumpsters?”
>Dash stopped completely in her reverie.
>“Uh . . . yeah, but I had a good reason.”
>Then a different voice, Twilight’s, said:
>“And just what would that be?”
>“Well, it was pretty awesome,” Dash said. “. . . And I was helping some friends.”
>The mayor came out from behind the dumpster.
>Her eyes flew wide-open when she saw you both.
>“Goodness!” she said, shocked. “Are both of you all right?”
>You managed to groan while Fluttershy said, “We tried to have dumpster sex but . . .”
>“Well good,” she said, her tone turning strict, “because while I do applaud you for trying to bring back dumpster sex, the both of you are still in a lot of trouble.”
>After helping you up, she began pushing you to follow her.
>“That headlining article in the paper has turned this town completely upside down. The streets are flooded with ponies trying to find you instead of attending to their own responsibilities.”
That’s not my fault.
>“No,” she said. “But you’re going to fix it anyway by addressing the ponies in front of town hall, and by saying that there was never supposed to be a reward in the first place.”
>“I guess I can tell Twilight about our plan while you two are doing that,” Dash said.
>The mayor kept pushing you along, and you heard Dash, speaking to Twilight in a presenting tone, saying:
>“So there I was at the top of the hill, right . . .?”
>Fucking Dash.
>Outside, in front of the town hall platform, was the crowd of ponies you had avoided earlier, their eyes all fixed on you and Fluttershy.
>The din of their talk ceased as Mayor Mare pushed you both to the podium.
>Fluttershy hid her anxious body behind your legs, her body shaking as she peered round the corner of your thighs at the anxious eyes of the crowd.
>Mayor Mare took the microphone and solemnly addressed the crowd.
>With wise words that were buoyed by her pride and experience as mayor, she warned the crowd of the dangers of not heeding to their responsibilities, and of the importance of both public service and trust.
>The audience waited patiently until Mayor Mare, taking one look at Fluttershy and making a quick decision, turned the microphone over to you.
>The crowd’s assent reached angelic heights of sound, and their hooves clopped together so readily that it betrayed a restlessness, like they were eager to grab something.
>“End this nonsense, now,” the mayor hissed before backing away and applauding you herself with a phony smile.
>With Fluttershy clinging to your ankle, you approached the podium, though the stand only reached up to the top of your knees.
>Diffidence was conquering you as you looked out at the sea of attentive and excited eyes, felt Fluttershy shaking against your legs, and tasted the mayor’s bitter words in your memory.
>But back further in your memory you remembered the peace of the morning, interrupted by circumstances and actions you felt were unjust.
>Fluttershy, cowering behind you, annoyed you, and the greedy ponies that were crowding town hall irritated your sensibility.
>Your eyes fixed to the crowd in a glare.
This has all been a big misunderstanding.
>You spoke without empathy for them or shame for your dampening their excitement.
There never should have been a reward for this.
>The crowd murmured to each other in hushed voices.
I don’t love Fluttershy, and I don’t even know who this Princess Cadance is. This was all done completely without our consent. I’ve sent a letter to the princess asking her to retract her offer for a reward.
>At this the crowd raised their voices in displeasure, some even in shock, as if you had no right to take away money they had sought.
>You raised your voice.
I’ve sent it through my friend Twilight Sparkle, so it’s probably already gotten to her by now.
>The crowd, turning to others for confirmation of their worries and to you for appeal, now grew so loud that your own voice could not reach them.
>One voice, however, was louder than the rest.
>“You fuckin’ shit!” you heard Octavia say. “I needed that fuckin’ money!”
Please just go home. Please just go home now.
>“I’m going to lose my livelihood,” said Octavia, tears gathering in her eyes. “Years of practicing, trying to live my dreams—it’s all going’ down the shitter now.”
Look, I’m sorry if some of you needed the money . . . I mean, I’d like to help you, if I could in some other way, but I can’t like this. Maybe I could make it up to some of you . . . ?
>No one was paying attention to you now.
>The mood of the crowd had plummeted.
>Ponies wailed into the air, some of them angry and some in despair.
>Others slinked away with their heads hung low, watching the ground they walked on.
>You let the hand you were holding the microphone with drop to your side.
>Fluttershy had wrapped her arms around her head to cover her ears from the depressing sound of the crowd.
>The mayor’s eyes scanned the crowd fretfully before meeting yours, sharing in your hopelessness, and then turning again to stare at the disaster before you both.
>“Some pony do something!” shouted Octavia. “Do something!”
>It was then, turning round a corner from far away, that Vinyl Scratch came trotting up the side of the platform, carrying a large amp on her back.
>If the crowd had noticed her then they did not pay her any heed; nor did she look to them, for she had on her headphones.
>But she approached you directly and held out her hoof expectantly.
>Though you could not see her eyes, her muzzle, scrunched in impatience, revealed a directness of thought that everyone else at that moment lacked.
>So when she tugged the microphone out of your hand using her magic, nobody did a thing to stop her.
>She then powered the amp with her magic, set the microphone before it, and, before nodding towards Octavia with a small smile, there came out from the speakers of town hall a pop song.
>The song played over the crowd and acted like a seductive string, spinning into the ears of all until its soothing bounce silenced them.
>Soon you could hear the song’s mirth echoing through the streets of town, the vibrations running through the ground until they reached up into you through your feet.
>The singer’s voice, loud but not unpleasant, carried the melody to the roofs of the highest houses in Cloudsdale.
>The song struck a chord with the crowd as its words joyously proclaimed favor for long and rewarding emotional wealth over the hollow pith of immediate material satisfaction.
>They resisted all urges except that which helped them focus on the music.
>For two minutes, no one in Ponyville said a word.
>The last verse sang:
>~‘Say you don’t need no diamond rings and I’ll be satisfied.’
>~‘Tell me that you want the kind of things that money just can’t buy.’
>~‘Cause I don’t care too much for money,’
>~‘Money can’t buy me love.’
>Soon the last chords rang out, and as you heard behind them the faint strings of sadness that were in the audience, the light tears of their quiet sobbing, you were again reminded of just how emotional these ponies can get from a simple song.
>Even Vinyl herself was silently wiping some stray tears hanging off the rim of her foggy shades.
>The mayor, also emotional, approached Vinyl and touched her shoulder with her hoof.
>“That was a truly beautiful thing you’ve done, Mrs. Scratch,” she said.
>Vinyl shrugged as the mayor called for applause on behalf of her actions, an effort that the crowd readily gave their energy to.
>Octavia, happily red-eyed, whispered a thank you to her friend.
>Fluttershy came out from behind your legs, seemingly having been eased by the crowd’s new sympathetic joy.
>“It looks like we aren’t going to disappoint any pony after all,” she said to you.
Yeah, all thanks to Vinyl.
>You looked over at Vinyl, who was trying hard not to let the praise crack her cool façade.
>When she turned and saw you looking at her appreciatively, she nodded your way.
>“I think I speak for all of us,” Mayor said, “when I say that the wisdom of the music Vinyl has played for us has touched us all deeply this day.”
>The crowd cheered once more.
>The mayor raised a hoof, signaling that she had more to say.
>“It’s true, money can’t buy us love. And yet it was money all the same which brought to us all an issue that had gone ignored, either out of apathy or time, for far too long.”
>The mayor eyed you and Fluttershy in a certain way when she said this and the town’s ponies all shifted their attention away from her and Vinyl.
>They were all looking at you and Fluttershy, all of them smiling.
>Fluttershy wrapped her arm around your thigh and hugged your leg.
>Your smile withered and you were suddenly convinced that something horrible was going to happen.
>“It should not be money,” Mayor said, “that motivates us to help our human friend realize his yet unknown love for Fluttershy.”
What?
>You felt sick as you saw the town’s ponies all nodding their heads along with her words.
>“Instead, that motivation should come from all of the things inside of us that money just can’t buy, like being a good neighbor, and a friend to our community.”
>You looked towards the mayor in shock that did not for a second affect her humble, warm approach.
>“Lately I’ve had trouble trying to bring this community together towards a goal of common goodness, to get you all excited about the joys of altruism. But through our combined efforts to bring these two together in true love, I think that the first step towards the ideal goodness that our community needs will be stepped.”
>She gestured to you and Fluttershy before her hoof swept the crowd and the applause reached deafening heights that again drowned out your voice.
>In the noise and confusion, Fluttershy nuzzled your leg with her cheek.
>Bewildered and angry, you looked down at her smile until she closed her eyes in happiness and let the warmth of the crowd bask over her.
>“Come on every pony,” Mayor said, “let’s give them three cheers for their love.”
>“Hurroo!”
Fucking Fluttershy.
>“Hurroo!”
Fucking Fluttershy!
>“Hurroo!”
Fucking! Fluttershy!

>Swayed by their emotional upswing and the mayor’s own uplifting words, the ponies of town cared little for what you had to say concerning you and Fluttershy after you escaped the stage of town hall.
>From then on your schedule was booked, all with appointments and dinners and festivities that other ponies had planned for you and Fluttershy to partake in, hoping that you’d enjoy yourself with her enough to finally realize that she was your true love.
>They bothered you day and night, knocking on your door just like she always had.
>You never had a moment’s peace anymore.
>It was all very sickening, at first.
>But after you surrendered to the circumstances and enjoyed your tenth free meal eating out, you started to enjoy all of the pampering and serving that came your way.
>The rigid anger you held towards the situation softened like soil after a fine rain.
>Ponies would seek you out and beg you to accept their invitations to parties, dinners, events and games.
>You felt important.
>Even your attitude towards Fluttershy had changed.
>Under such favorable atmosphere, you began to enjoy having her around, having someone to experience the luxury of leisure with you made you feel less greedy.
>Her eyes and voice and quiet serenity all became a familiar comfort to you among such a new lifestyle of leisure and pleasure.
>She did not even embarrass you when she would make a scene of eating whole her steamed carrots, cucumbers, eggplants, etc.
>The general attitude that ponies had held before you changed as well.
>Ponies you did not know would stop and say hello when you were working.
>You got to know some of them beyond just their names like you used to.
>Things were never peaceful again, but they had certainly improved.
>You were much happier.
>Then, after a week, the unexpected best week of your life—then it all went to pot.
>For a while the newspaper colt had been coming in to bring you your paper, but on the Saturday morning when it ended you instead heard a familiar knock on your door.
>You picked up the paper to find out that Princess Cadance had retracted the reward the second she returned from performing royal duties in a foreign land.
>She publicly apologized for any harm that her actions may have caused for you or Fluttershy and stated that it was not her intent to antagonize or meddle in affairs of love she knew nothing about.
>And just like that, it was all over.
>You waited all day for someone to come over, but nobody did.
>On Sunday you watched the sun rise, its light turning the sky blue but not yet warming the air.
>You had no plans.
>No one was going to come over anymore.
>There would be no more offers to treat you and Fluttershy.
>No more life of luxury.
>Nobody cared about you anymore.
>Now that there was no real reason for anyone to care about whether you and Fluttershy were in love or not, it was back to being ignored.
>‘What do I do now?’ you thought.
>You got up when you heard the knock, excited that maybe somebody had actually come to see you, only to be dragged down by Fluttershy’s practiced smile and greeting.
>Already, you two were reduced back to ritual of her inane attempts at courtship.
>She invited herself in and you were too tired and sad to fight her.
>You sat down in the kitchen.
>Both of you could hear Vinyl’s faint music coming in through the walls like a whisper.
I suppose you saw the paper yesterday?
>“Oh, yes,” she said, nodding without having lost her smile.
It’s all over for us.
>“Well, not exactly,” she said. “We still have each other.”
To hell with each other. I miss my free meals, my being important, and everything else I had going for me.
>You stared out the window and caught the sun’s glare.
>Turning away from it, you caught the disappointed downturned eyes of Fluttershy.
>With a heavy sigh, you said:
I’m sorry I said that.
>She looked up cautiously from under her brow.
It’s not that I didn’t have fun with you. It’s just . . . You know that I don’t really love you.
>“Yes,” she said.
>She had lifted her chin up to look you in the eye now.
>“Not yet, anyway.”
>You pursed your lips, but decided to let her have her hope, as it had proven itself to be immovably stubborn over time.
It’s all over. Nobody is going to treat me like I’m somebody anymore.
>“I could.”
Well, of course you would want to. All you ever think about is me.
>“That’s not true. I think about you a great deal, but I also think about my critters, and my friends, and my family.”
That must be nice.
>“I know it’s a lot nicer than sitting in the dark waiting for some pony to come do you a favor.”
>You rolled your eyes.
>Talking to her was a lot more palatable when you had a plate of steak with it.
>“Did you hear me?”
Whatever. I don’t give a shit, not about you, or about anyone else that forgot about me once the money dried up. All I want is to be alone now.
>“But you won’t be.”
>There was a silence between you both before you heard your stomach growling.
I didn’t even plan anything for breakfast today. I’ve barely eaten since Friday.
>“If you want, I could make something for you.”
>Deciding that her cooking for you was better than nothing, you gave her full reign of your kitchen.
>She made up some batter and, after beating it for some minutes, started opening and closing your cabinet doors in search of something.
>The constant banging got to you.
Do you need help?
>“Oh, I’d certainly appreciate it.”
>So you got up and, attracted by Fluttershy’s smile, stepped towards her.
>Soon you were flipping pancakes on the griddle while Fluttershy set the table.
>You moved one hot brown cake off of the griddle and onto the plate next to you on the counter.
>When Fluttershy started hovering next to your shoulder there was a stack of four cakes on the plate.
>You poured the last of the batter.
>“How is it going?”
Fine. You should probably eat first, because I’m going to destroy these pancakes when I’m finished.
>“Thank you for helping me.”
Whatever. I couldn’t stand hearing you bang those doors for another second.
>“I’m sorry. I was looking for a pan.”
It’s fine. It’s just . . . do you ever feel like nobody really gives a damn about you unless you’re causing a problem?
>“I think I do.”
>She looked at you and sighed.
>“Yes, I do.”
That’s the thing. I don’t care if ponies aren’t coming to my door with dinner reservations. It’s just that I never realized how much I hated that everybody ignored me before they all started paying attention to me. They listened to me, wanted to include me in their lives, when I’m so used to being ignored. But now I know that that’s all over. I can feel it.
>“I thought you wanted to be alone.”
I think I used to, but not anymore.
>“So, what are you going to do?”
>After flipping the pancake once, you turned to her, a confused expression on your face.
What do you mean?
>“Aren’t you going to make some new friends?”
Well, I can’t just do that.
>Fluttershy raised an eyebrow at you.
I mean, how would I do that? Everybody pretty much has their minds made up about me. What am I going to do, go out and beg them to be my friend?
>Fluttershy folded her ears.
>“No, that would be kind of, um . . . pathetic.”
Right, pathetic, sort of like coming over to someone’s house uninvited every day and—
>“Your pancake is burning.”
>You muttered some obscenities about “maybe if some cunt wasn’t distracting me” as you picked up the slightly-blackened cake and moved it to the plate.
>As you shut the griddle off, Fluttershy continued.
>“You just need to show some pony a little of the interest they’ve showed you.”
I’ve tried that. Nobody likes talking to me. They all avoid me.
>“I don’t.”
Yeah, but you’re crazy.
>Fluttershy frowned.
>“You can’t say mean things like that if you want to make ponies really notice you.”
I can’t help it. You ponies bring out the worst in me, and vice versa.
>“Then you need to take a tiny step in the right direction and show some pony a little kindness.”
>Fluttershy paused and watched you eagerly while you thought for a moment.
I can’t think of anyone who really deserves any kindness.
>“Then you’re not thinking easy enough. It doesn’t take a lot of thought to do something kind for some pony.”
You’re such an expert, huh? Why don’t you tell me what the last kind thing you did was?
>“Well, I went around yesterday and thanked every pony who did something nice for us.”
>You pursed your lips.
You actually did that?
>“Yes. I tried to bring you with me, but . . . well, you know.”
>Actually, you did have one visitor yesterday, and it was Fluttershy.
>But when you didn’t see anyone with her, you slammed the door in her face and told her to fuck off.
>You were in a bad mood yesterday.
Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Still, I don’t think you really needed to go around and thank everyone. They only did it because they wanted the money.
>“Not all of them did, though, and it would be disrespectful to the ponies who did it to be kind if I just assumed that.”
Maybe they wanted to be kind to you, but I’ll bet they didn’t really care that they were being kind to me.
>“Well, if we’re going to think like that, then should they have cared if they were kind to you?”
>Fluttershy stared at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.
Fine then. I’ll be kind to ponies. What do you want me to do first, go around and do a little dance for everyone who ever smiled my way?
>“Nothing like that. Let’s just listen to Vinyl’s music for a moment.”
>The two of you listened to the faint whispers of music, but you lost interest quickly.
I really hate that cheeky cunt. She thinks she’s so fucking funny whenever she plays this—
>“Have you ever gone over there?”
Well, no, she doesn’t play her music loud enough for me to get her in any trouble, though I have thought of finding their fuse box and—
>“Have you ever gone over to their house to visit?”
They’ve never invited me.
>“Why don’t we go over and say hello?”
And then what?
>“I don’t know. It’s just a way to show that you’re thinking about them.”
That’s . . . I don’t want to.
>“Okay, then I’ll do it for you.”
>You shrugged and put the griddle in the sink.
>Then you leaped in front of the door to block Fluttershy, who had your plate of pancakes in her mouth.
>You ripped the plate out of her mouth and set the cakes back on the counter before turning on her.
And just what did you think you were going to do with those?
>“I was going to give them to Vinyl and Octavia.”
Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the date, as I did not know that it was ‘Waste Money on Your Neighbors Day’.
>“Well, since you won’t come with me, I was going to bring them those pancakes and tell them that you had made them especially for Octavia.”
So you were going to lie? That’s not very nice to her or me.
>“But you did make the pancakes, and you are going to give them to her, so it’s not really a lie.”
Whatever! Those two didn’t even do anything when everyone was lining up to kiss our asses. If you want to give the pancakes away then give them to Lyra at least. That houseboat she let us borrow was awesome.
>“But Lyra can make her own breakfast. Did you ever stop to think about how hard it must be for Octavia to cook with that broken arm of hers?”
Cook breakfast? Shit, she can’t even open her mouth without sounding like some rough Manchester trick.
>Fluttershy started frowning.
Okay, fine, yeah, I can see your point.
>“So . . .”
>You turned away from her coming smile and, covering your eyes, waved towards your pancakes.
Take them away before I change my mind.
>“That’s very kind of you, and I’m sure that they’ll appreciate it.”
>Your stomach growled.
Bully for them.
>“Do you think they have syrup?”
I don’t—
>“Maybe we should bring them some of that, too.”
Fine. It’s not like I’m going to fucking need it, anyway.
>“What about butter?”
Fuck them. They have butter.
>A moment after Fluttershy had left you started pacing the length of your kitchen, wondering how her meeting was going.
>Soon the music had ceased playing.
>You started feeling sick to your stomach and you wished you had told Fluttershy to fuck off like yesterday.
>Vinyl and Octavia are assholes.
>They probably saw your pancakes and figured out that you were too nervous to come over yourself.
>You bet they’re laughing at you behind your back right now.
>Tonight you should go over there, find their fuse box and—
>“I’m back,” Fluttershy said.
>You turned and saw her place the syrup and your empty plate onto the table.
>You kept watching her as she went to the fridge, pulled out a few eggs, set them on the counter, then started opening up all your cabinet doors again—
>You slammed the door shut before she could start making a racket.
Are you going to tell me what the hell happened over there?
>Fluttershy smiled innocently.
>“Oh, you mean you want to know how it went with Vinyl and Octavia.”
Well, I’d like to find out if all this was worth sacrificing my damn pancakes for.
>“Then you should know that they wanted me to tell you that they really appreciated what you did for them, and that they wanted to know if you wanted to come to dinner at their house.”
>You were silent as you digested Fluttershy’s words.
So it sounds like they can cook just fine. Why did I have to give them my pancakes again?
>“That’s not the point. Don’t you care that they want to see you?”
>She was right.
>Right next door were two ponies that actually wanted you to come over to their house, to cook for you and have you as their company.
>You could feel a little warm flame was lighting and rising up inside you.
>You actually had plans for later.
>But, then again, what if you went and they actually hated you?
Maybe I shouldn’t go.
>“Did I forget to tell you that they said I could come with you?”
Well, you might have . . . you asshole.
>“I guess it wasn’t nice to keep that from you at first. I’m sorry.”
You don’t look sorry.
>“I know. I’m sorry about that, too.”
Liar.
>“If I helped you make some more pancakes, would that make up for it?”
>Your stomach growled.
It’ll have to. But you’re washing the griddle. I don’t want you making a racket with my cabinets again.
>It was silent for a moment, until Vinyl started playing another song.
>You strained to hear the words.
>~‘I should have known better with a girl like you,’
>~‘That I’d love everything that you do,’
>~‘And I do!
>~‘Hey, hey, hey!’
>~‘And I do!’
>Fluttershy hummed.
>“Oh, do you think that maybe she’s playing that song for us?”
Cheeky cunts, the both of them.
>Fluttershy giggled.
>“You know, Vinyl and Octavia said that I could consider our dinner together to be a date, if I wanted.”
It’s definitely not a date.
>“Would you like it better if I didn’t go?”
No!
>You covered your mouth with your hand.
>Then, seeing Fluttershy’s smiling face, you turned away from her before she could see you starting to blush.
I mean, you can come with, if you want to—but it’s not a date. Definitely do come with, though.
>“Well, I’ll take what I can get.”