Alicorn

Alicorn

>as is the norm, you are Anon
>and, to cut to the chase, you have recently adopted an alicorn fluffy
>yeah, that’s right
>a genuine, purebred alicorn fluffy
>with a white coat and a dull rainbow mane to boot
>it’s easily a fluffy worth tens of thousands of dollars
>but you got her at a steal
>Celestia, as you named her, because you’re unoriginal like that, has a reason for her low price
>she’s depressed
>like, worryingly depressed
>like, nearing the “wan die” loop depressed
>apparently, many of the other fluffies picked on her at the shelter because of the fact that she had both a horn and wings
>alone they’re fine
>together, though, they make her a “munstah”
>it doesn’t make much sense to you, but when it comes to fluffies, what does
>so you’ve spent most of your day trying to cheer her up
>and it’s been a spectacular failure, to say the least
>spaghetti, games, toys, everything has absolutely failed to work
>”What’s got you so down, anyway?”
>”Am dummeh.”
>”No, you’re not. You’re different. That’s not a bad thing.”
>”Am bigges’ dummeh! Nu one wuv ‘Westia!”
>”Well, what if I told you that I love you?”
>”Yuu daddeh! Daddehs wuv fwuffies! Buh udah fwuffies nu wuv ‘Westia! Dey say “ooh, wook at ‘Westia, ‘Westia haf dummeh wingies an’ hownie ting, ‘Westia munstah”!”
>”You know that isn’t true.”
>”Den why aww da fwuffies teww ‘Westia am munstah?”
>”Because they’re just mean fluffies. That’s all.”
>”Aww fwuffies tink ‘Westia am munstah. Dat mean ‘Westia am munstah.”
>Celestia slumps down onto her belly and begins to sob into her hooves
>this isn’t gonna be easy
>think, think
>you need to figure out a way to get her to cheer up about her horn-and-wings situation
>suddenly, you come up with an idea
>acting quickly, you pull up an image of Celestia off the internet
>”Celestia! Look at this, would you?”
>Celestia, still in tears, manages to take a look at the picture
>”What do you think of her?”
>she seems confused for a second, trying to piece together the relevance of the question with the issue at hand, but decides to just answer
>”P-pwetty…”
>”Pretty, hmm? Well, in that case, take another look. See how she’s got wings, and a horn? Just like you?”
>”Mmm-hmm.”
>”Is that a pony you’d call a monster?”
>Celestia looks up at you, her tears finally coming to a stop
>she rubs one of her eyes with a hoof
>”Nu…munstahs nu pwetty.”
>”Exactly. You’re pretty, so it doesn’t matter if you’ve got wings, a horn, or both, or none. You’re not a monster in any way.”
>”Buh udah fwuffies nu know dat.”
>valid point
>”And we probably couldn’t convince them too easily, huh?”
>”Nu.”
>”Well, there’s always other options.”
>”Hmm?”
>”I’ve got an idea. Maybe we could style your mane a certain way and get it to hide your horn, especially considering that it would be way harder to hide your wings,”
>”Den…fwuffies see wingies…buh nu hown…”
>”Then they don’t think you’re a monster, and when you’re at home, you don’t need to hide your pretty little horn from anyone, because you know it doesn’t make you a monster.”
>on the words “pretty little horn”, you tap the point of her horn and smile at her
>she sniffles, and you wipe away a lone tear that remains of her cheek
>”Well? How’s that sound?”
>Celestia looks up at you with a huge grin, and hugs you as hard as her stumpy little hooves can hug
>”Wuv daddeh. Daddeh am bes’ smawty.”
>hey, looks like you’re a smarty now
>time to get to work
>you’ve got some hair gel, a comb, and a blow-dryer
>let’s see what you can do

>after about a half hour of slopping glop into Celestia’s mane, combing it out, attempting to style it, setting it with the blow-dryer, and eventually just mucking about, you finally manage to create something presentable
>she complained about the stickiness of the hair gel, but there’s only so many sacrifices you can make in trying to hide her horn
>her mane now completely covers her horn, and even has a little curl at the end of it
>”Okay, close your eyes. Daddy needs to get a mirror.”
>”Otay!”
>you rummage about for a little mirror, and hold it out in front of her
>”Alright, open your eyes.”
>she does so, and you see her little jaw go slack
>”Hown gone…”
>”No, silly, it’s not gone. It’s just under your mane.”
>slowly, a wide smile begins to spread across her face
>”Su pwetty, daddeh! Fankies! Wotsa wotsa fancies! Wuv daddeh!”
>she spends the next minute examining her new mane style, doing little poses like she’s a tiny fluffy model
>hnng
>”So, do you maybe wanna go to the park and see what the other fluffies think of your new horn-less style?”
>she flinches at the words “other fluffies”, but quickly gives a tiny, cocky smile to the mirror, her eyes trailing up to her now hidden horn
>”Pwease?”
>”That’s the spirit.”

>and that’s the story of how you got Celestia to the park
>you’re sitting on a bench, looking up hairstyling techniques on your phone while Celestia romps about with the other fluffies
>the fluffy park doesn’t so much have playground equipment as it does massive stretches of grass and sand pits here and there
>as of right, Celestia and the other fluffies are playing some variation of tag
>they’re quite clearly trying to play it right, but it keeps on ending in tumbles and hugs all around
>you decide to leave the fluffies to their own devices and continue browsing through hairstyling tricks
>as you read, you feel a tap on your shoulder, and turn to see a middle-aged man
>”Yes?”
>”Just wantin’ to start up a conversation, son. Say, is that your fluffy over there? The one with the rainbow hair?”
>”Erm, yeah.”
>”Well, that one over there is mine. Green one, with the brown hair.”
>you take a look, and sure enough, there’s a fluffy of that description playing around
>”Managed to get a rainbow-maned pegasus, hmm? People pay a lot of money for that.”
>”Well, actually, she’s a, uh, alicorn.”
>”An alicorn, eh? Where’s her horn?”
>”Under her mane.”
>”Why are you covering that up? That’s a good thing.”
>”Not according to the fluffies at her shelter, apparently. She’s a “munstah”, from what they say.”
>as soon as the words escape your mouth, you notice Celestia fall over
>normally, this wouldn’t be an issue, but you notice her hair part ever so slightly
>and her horn pops out
>”Oh, no.”
>you start to get up, but the man stops you
>”Wait. Watch how this turns out.”
>”What? No! I need to get her out of there before they start picking on her.”
>the man shakes his head
>”Shelter fluffies don’t usually have the best qualities. They tend to be bitter that they don’t have owners. I mean, naturally, it would go away when they do get owners, but some of them take it out on others. Most of them are just sad, others remain optimistic, but then there are those that become like smarty-friends.”
>”I…how did you know all that?”
>”I work at a shelter, son. You start figuring these things out after a few years.”
>”But I don’t know if I should just sit back and watch.”
>”Trust me. These things have a way of working themselves out.”
>against your better judgement, you sit back down and look over at the group
>Celestia seems blissfully unaware that her horn is showing, but one certain red fluffy notices
>”Fwuffy haf wingies…an’ hown ting?”
>a few other fluffies hear this, and look over at Celestia
>one tiny pink foal shrieks, and hides behind her mother
>”Mummah! Munstah!”
>a tiny chant of “Munstah!” begins to spread through the crowd
>Celestia begins bawling into her hooves
>ah, shit
>you start to get up, when you see the man’s green fluffy run up next to her
>”Why aww yuu fwuffies dummeh?!”
>whoa
>the crowd of fluffies becomes quiet, and one black fluffy pipes up
>”Dat munstah!”
>”Dis fwuffy nu munstah, dummeh! Dis fwuffy!”
>”Fwuffies nu haf wingies an’ hown-ting!”
>”Yuu nu fink dat fwuffy munstah when fwuffy nu haf hown-ting! When fwuffy haf wingies, you gif pway an’ huggies! Now fwuffy munstah?!”
>the black fluffy begins to say something, but stops as the words sink in
>gradually, the crowd goes silent, and a few walk up to Celestia and the green fluffy
>the pink foal is one of them, and she gently hugs Celestia’s hoof
>”Fwend?”
>her mother, a gray pegasus, also hugs Celestia
>”Fbwend.”
>eventually, a tiny fluffpile forms, and Celestia perks up
>her sobs turn to sniffles, and then to giggles
>”Fwends huggies tickew!”
>the pile turns into a raucous mound of tickling, laughing fluffies
>you turn to the man, who’s got a massive grin on his face
>”Damn. I mean, thanks. Your fluffy defused this whole mess pretty nicely.”
>”Well, it’s like I thought him: you gotta be accepting of folks with differences.”
>with that, he gets up, and offers you a handshake
>you extend your hand, and notice that his other arm is missing
>how you didn’t notice that is a mystery
>in any case, you look him in the eye, and shake his hand
>he calls his fluffy over, and the two of them head out
>”Best of luck, kid!”
>and he’s gone
>you check the time, and notice that it’s starting to get late
>so you call your fluffy over as well
>scooping her up in your arms, she waves goodbye to the other fluffies, and the two of you start the walk home
>”Well. That was quite the adventure, huh?”
>”Westia wuv pawk!”
>”That’s good. So I suppose all that time I spent looking up hairstyling techniques was a bit of a waste, hmm?”
>Celestia shakes her head
>”Daddeh am best haiw smawty! Make ‘Westia pwetty!”
>you smile, and continue on
>you’re Anon
>fluffy mane stylist extraordinaire