Who's a Pretty Pony? C1

Who's a Pretty Pony? C1

Lovelymuffins posted this:
"Twilight has been rejected so many times by stallions shes unsure of her self. Anonymous swings by one day and finds Twilight laying on her bed petting her tail repeating shes a pretty pony. Worried about her he attempts to help her only for both of them to fall in love."

And I typed up this mountain of cheese.  Don't read it if you're not a fan of shitty romance/cheese/cute stuff or something.


>today is a bright and cheerful day in Equestria
>you wake up to find the birds singing happily in the cool morning air
>you have a wonderful breakfast and you feel like nothing can ruin your mood
>as an aspiring painter, you stretch before grabbing your equipment and heading out the door
>you’re now a common sight in P0nyville
>you pretty much just walk around town, sit down, and look for “that perfect moment”
>it's not a bad routine, compared to a sandwich of bland nine-to-five meat with commute bread
>that flair of inspiration splashes your mind more often as you find yourself surrounded by the scenery of Equestria
>even the inhabitants support your creative process
>they are so enthralled by their carefree yet rich lives that they just make the pigments flow onto your canvas
>for hours, you sit perfectly still, a statue that simply exists
>hues of magenta and crimson begin to permeate the streets as Celestia's day wanes
>you barely register the voices of those who surround you when you're in this state
“I said six bits!  Not four or five.  Six bits and that's final!”
>you hear, but you aren't listening
“Oh, little Cobblers is turning three this week – we have to find him a cake…”
>if somep0ny were to question you about the conversations you overhear, you wouldn’t even remember a single word
>after a while, you decide to relocate
>buildings were never your forte
>you get up and begin walking off in no particular direction, hoping to stumble on an angle you’ve never experienced before
“Listen, you’re a nice mare but I don’t know if I’m right for you.  I’m sorry, Twilight…”
>a familiar name snatches your attention as you bumble along the beaten roads
>Twilight Sparkle?
>you had not really pinned her as a pony that really dated
>unable to help yourself, you look over at the source of the voice
“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?  It’s getting dark,” says a tan-colored stallion
“It’s fine, but thank you for being so gallant,” she replies, smiling
“Okay…  Have a good evening, then”
>the colt canters off, waving goodbye
>oh well, at least they didn’t end it messily
>Twilight seems to have come out of that a whole lot better than some of your past romantic encounters
>feeling like you’re invading her privacy, you begin to look away, but not before catching the purple unicorn’s head drop
>she sighs heavily, slowly heading back to her library with a painful look on her face
>hooves dragging
>it wasn’t your business, but you couldn’t help but feel a lump in your chest
>you get a swelling wave of déjà vu
>Twilight's face seems to wake up some memories
>you think you've seen this before, but you were so busy with your painting or your sightseeing that it never really dawned on you
>Twilight had been on dates before
>you two are acquainted, but it is difficult to actually get hold of her
>she was too often neck-deep in studies
>when she was not, you’d see her flash off somewhere to save the day
>you didn’t want to get in the way, so you steered clear of anything dangerous
>many times, the papers had filled you in on the exploits of the six Elements of Harmony
>doing heroic things was really not your strong suit
>you don’t let people walk all over you, but violence scares you and getting someone hurt due to your incompetence doesn’t sit well with your conscience
>you are also an anemic skinny little nerd that falls over in high winds
>pushing these events from your mind, you notice your window for a decent painting is gone
>you walk back to your cheap apartment above Davenport’s
>it smelled a little funny but it was really well furnished
>good contact for inks, too
>your routine engulfs you once more
>you find something lacking, however
>one evening you set out to get some help, as the lack of reference material on some watercolor techniques bothers you
>you head to the library; the ponies must have some art books on the matter
>you’re about to knock on the door when it opens and a young pegasus walks out
“Really Twilight, I had a great time but I’m not sure I can do this.  Sorry…” he says, a little gingerly
>you hold the door as he walks out into the early night
“…  Bye…” she replies
>looking over to you, her expression doesn’t really change
>a light smile without worries
>you see her lower lip tremble ever so slightly
>just some bad luck
>a mare like her…  She’ll find the right one before she can wag her tail
“Welcome to the P0nyville library.  Anon, right?  How can I help you?”
>you close the thick door behind you
“Evening, Ms. Twilight.  Sorry to come by so late; I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything”
“Oh, no, you weren’t…  Nothing at all…  It’s really not that late.  So what can I do for you?”
>you feel a little awkward
“I just wanted to borrow anything you have on watercolor painting…”
>she cheers up at the mention of books and guides you to general and very specialized works on the subject
>choosing the ones you need, she signs them out and you walk off towards your place, bidding her goodnight
>the next few days are rather uneventful
>you feel a little disconnected from P0nyville as you pretty much remain indoors, studying and practicing your watercolor skills
>feeling ready to expand your horizons, you step out
>you were pumped and prepared to make a damn good painting
>it better sell because you needed to eat sometime this month and rent was due soon
>thankfully your landlord was lenient
>it’s already noon
>you set up your canvas as described in the third volume of Contemporary Pony Painting Techniques
>you’ve chosen one hell of a spot
>the wind rolls through wheat fields, the golden waves rushing back and forth
>the fields of gold slowly undulate
>it's enchanting
>you crack and stretch your neck
>a couple nearby are taking a walk, talking, laughing, and smiling together
>well what do you know, Twilight’s found herself a nice colt
>you assume he’s good looking by p0ny standards
>brown mane, butterscotch fur, horseshoe cutie mark
>good for her
>mind at ease, you start a rather striking watercolor delving into the surreal
>as the day ages, you stop
>the light is getting wrong
>if you continued now, you would taint the colors
>you wrap it up and start heading home
>walking past Sweet Apple Acres, you spot the happy couple lounging on some hay bales, watching the sunset
>strange, something’s off
>hard to see; the sun is pretty much directly in line with them
>sizes seem wrong
>you walk past and see the young colt Twilight was with this afternoon
>not with Twilight
>he's not with Twilight at all
>he seems to be tongue fighting with Big Mac
>you blink a few times
>you have seen too much
>getting back home, you wonder if they just have an open relationship
>you don't know that much about Equestrian sociology
>maybe it's normal for ponies to have barn doors that swing every which way
>you do need to return the books
>it could have been another pony.  Maybe the sunlight just messed with your eyes
>some of them do look very similar to others
>you grab the due tomes and head to the library, shaking silly ideas from your head
>breathing in cool evening air that clears your mind, you arrive to the library and stop
“Wh…  Who’s a pretty…  *sniff*… Pretty p0ny…”
>frozen mid-movement, hand extended, knuckles inches from the wooden door, you listen
“Who’s a p…  Pretty p… Pony?  I am...”
>Twilight’s broken voice rings through the open crack in the door
>this was a horrible time
>your hand drops
>she probably wanted to be alone
>you tell your body to turn and walk away, but it does not respond
“*sniff* I am...”
>you walk forward and open the door
>Twilight is curled up on the couch, on her side, staring at nothing
>her mane disheveled, eyes red and soaked
>her long tail is curled around her left front hoof
>she mechanically strokes it slowly with the right
>eyes wide, your throat goes dry
>what the fuck are you doing
>the old hinges barely creak and the used wood opens practically inaudibly
>Twilight doesn’t notice you for a few seconds
>she seems to lazily turn, tears streaming slowly down her cheeks
>the filly gasps and struggles to wipe her face, trying to spring to a sitting position
>you step towards her, feeling naught pity but plain sorrow at her pain
>it shows on your face
“Oh, oh my, I was just…  Something in my eye!  Can I help you? This isn’t what it lo-
>she babbles and loses her balance
>you just kneel in front of her as she frantically shakes and stumbles off the couch, catching her in your arms before her back hooves touch the floor
“It’s okay, Twilight…”
>she gasps quietly, as if there was no air in her lungs
>as Twilight freezes in your arms for a fraction of a second, you can’t help but be on the verge of panic
>in a fraction more, she would probably shake you off, yell at you, ask what gave you the right to enter her home and invade her priva-
>she slacks, only her front legs seeming to have any measurable strength
>slowly at first, Twilight begins weeping
>as her sobs intensify, she seems to cinch down on you as if she's afraid that you'd drop her
>you lift her up a little, back onto the couch
>Twilight's hug constricts and her mane rolls around against your face
>her lavender hair twitches slightly with each sharp inspiration, flooding your nose with her subtle, pleasant scent
>hooves wrapped around your neck, you’re surprised that even the wall of her hooves are warm
>it's as if every part of her is soft and silken
>you slowly run a hand down her mane, getting the stray hair back into place
>as her crying begins to slow, you rock her ever so slightly
>Twilight feels light in your arms and ever so warm, yet shivering against you
>her ears rest against her head, fluttering tentatively whenever you run your hand over them
>the short, microfiber-like fuzz that coats her violet ears is heart-wrenchingly soft
>you pet her straight, smooth mane
>holding the tearful filly against you, you try to provide whatever comfort you can
>eventually, she starts to calm down and regain her composure
>a strangely comfortable silence settles inside the library
>you break it with a low, calm whisper
"I'm...  I'm sorry I barged in on you like this.  I didn't know what else to do"
>you are starting to doubt your actions
"Not gonna lie, Anon.  You surprised me for a few seconds..."
>Twilight's light hiccup barely disrupts her words
"I'm sorry, I'll go, I didn't mean-
>you take your hands off her, perhaps a bit quicker than you'd intended
"Wait!" she blurts
>her hold on you doesn't relax
"Twilight?"
>she suddenly releases you and looks away, bringing her hooves to her chest
"I...  Never mind...  Forget about this, will you?  Just go.  I'm fine, okay?  I just lost it for a little bit...  Sorry..." she explains, looking at the ground
>you sit a bit straighter
"I know we don't know each other very well, but please let me say one thing before I go"
>she nods slowly, suddenly looking tired
>her face is blank, almost vacant
"If you ever need to talk, you can count on me, okay?  For anything," you say, as reassuring as you can be
>you head back home in silence
>she has saved Equestria multiple times, yet was in such distress...
>this did not really sit well with you
>you spend the rest of the night in uneasy reflection until a sleep of restless hours takes you

Who's a Pretty Pony? C2
http://pastebin.com/QHZ4Vuce