http://pastebin.com/P7m2cfXX
http://pastebin.com/u/StayedGolden






Monday
	Ugh. The Greyhound bus pulls up to the stop, your earthly Charon come to collect. The brakes scream like a river of dying souls as the dingy mammoth shudders to an unseemly halt. You pick up your handful of bags - just the necessities, some books, and your Nintendo DS- and head towards the hateful ferry. 
	”Dearie, please,” comes the voice of your mother. You turn back to the sight of your mother, dressed up like she was going to one of her banquets. She’d come to see you off to your relative’s home. Although it was more likely that she was just making sure you got on the bus. After all, you certainly didn’t want to go to some orchard in the middle of nowheresville. You were a city boy through and through, made for the streets and clubs of Manhattan and you were being sent on a forced vacation to some distant relatives, though you couldn’t remember even meeting them. 
	”Don’t just run off without saying goodbye to your mother.” You turn towards her with a venomous glance. Appearances were always so important to your mother; the image of the perfect family being the totality of her goals. However, she did hold the key to your trust-fund, and wasn’t afraid to hold it ransom. Fear of poverty and vitriol were unable to come to peace, and you ended up saying
	“Goodbye Mother dear. I’ll miss you,” with your glare still directed squarely at her. She stares back blankly. So caught up in her own act, she heard the words without the context.
	“I’ll miss you too, Sweetheart. And so will your father.” Ah, your father. He had long upheld the tradition of being absent, but only recently begun shedding the tradition of explaining why. Reports of meetings, traffic, sickness, work, and so forth had been substituted for your father’s presence until you had lost your desire for it. Your mother looks at her watch, a genuine expression crossing her face for once. In horror, she exclaims
	“Oh dear! I’m going to be late for my banquet!”  and without another word to you, she turns abruptly and waddles out to her car. Your turn, always eager to part ways with any experience with your mother. At least there’s one positive side to leaving Manhattan. The conductor is staring at you, impatiently tapping his foot while he waits for your ticket. You slap your ticket in his hands, looking at him with the disdain you’d be taught to have at a young age. The old gremlin hands you your stub back and mumbles something you don’t care to listen to. And with that, you board the bus
	The ride is uneventful. You sleep most of the way, play video games for the rest. Hearing the driver announce Ponyville as the next stop, you begin packing your things. Half awake, you drag your bag to the doors, and wait for the bus to stop. That familiar, harpy-esque screeching returns once more, as if the bus aimed to grant you one more gift to remember it by. You grimace, and ignore it until the bus lurches to a stop, almost tipping you over. The door opens, and golden light fills the entryway. You take a step outward into the folksy little station, your mouth curling upward at the dead station in front of you. 
	You had come from a living world, buildings and stations thriving and bustling with people. Here, in this sparsely populated little town, was just a few old folks, looking bored as they waited to die. Among the few people, you spotted a group you presumed to be your own. A tall, dark skinned man with a great brown backpack hugging his shoulders, golden hair stuck out in all directions. Next to him, a small girl, no older than fourteen or fifteen, whose most distinguishing feature was the massive red bow on her head. She held a great white sign, with black marker spelling out “Anon Orange,” and was hopping up and down

	Uh. Wow. She’s looking around frantically, as if she couldn’t find her target. There was only one other person exiting the bus, an old Mexican lady. Clearly her powers of deduction were sub-par. The man with her had been looking at you since you got here, making up for her. You stick your hand and wave it in the air, just so the girl would stop whisking her head back in forth. She spots your signal, and drops the sign as she sprints towards you. You don’t have time to process just what’s happening until you feel her small body colliding with your very tired self. You stagger backwards, losing three steps before gaining your balance. As you straighten yourself up, you feel two thin arms squeezing you with a strength they have no right to. You look down at the constrictor, and the bow brushes your chin as she leans her head back. A pair of golden eyes, holding shades of light red to orange, meet yours, and a big, white-toothed smile opens to say
	“Welcome to Ponyville, Anon!” If the attempted tackle hadn’t shocked you out of your drowsy state, the sheer volume sure did
	“Uh, sure, alright,” you respond, a pained expression join forces with pushing arms in an attempt to force off this invader. Neither succeed, although she does loosen one arm to point to the dark man, who’d appeared soundlessly in front of you
	“I’m Apple Bloom! An this here’s Big Mac!” He nods at that, his eyes directed towards you, with an expression either serious or vacant. Finally, she drops off you and takes a few steps back, continuing her wide grin. You take a deep breath, never having missed air before this moment. After a few wheezes, you’re situated again. “Are you okay there?” Apple Bloom asks you, her head cocked to one side. Man, what is this little girl’s deal? 
	“Yeah yeah, I’m fine,”  you mutter, trying to cut off any connection with this overenthusiastic kid before it starts. Big Mac’s got his left eyebrow raised slightly, proving that he is not, in fact, a statue.
	“C’mon,” His deep voice matches his dark, heavy look. You don’t have a lot of time to consider it, what with him turning on his heel and moving away. He moves purposefully, neither hurrying nor strolling. Apple Bloom perks up at the sound of his heels on the hard stone floor, and jumps towards him, each motion of her legs closer to a bound than an actual step. You bring out your trademark grimace as you mournfully try to match their quick pace. Though Apple Bloom’s chokehold woke your mind up, your body is still trying to sleep. That, along with your heavy bags, marks the attempt to keep up as impossible, which you’re sure will define this next week . Ugh
	You’re halfway to the door when the two Apples reach it, looking back to see you heaving, dragging your luggage behind you. You glare at them, furious at their desertion of you. Big Mac huffs, then leans back against the wall, patiently waiting for you to catch up . Apple Bloom, however, speeds towards you at a similar pace as before. You shut your eyes and brace yourself, hoping not to be flung to the ground this time. Instead, your feel nothing but a slight weightless on your arms as two bags are lifted from you. Her dazzling smile expectantly waits for you to open your eyes, and greets you as you do so. Her high voice, thick with the accent of this town, pips up once more
	“I got em, Anon! Don’t you worry! She turns to her older brother, unmoved: “I got it, Big Mac! Don’t you worry!” He nods his head, not worrying. With the extra weight lifted, you manage to shamble slightly faster, and manage to greet the patient farmer at the door. He opens the door for you, letting you stumble past him, a bounding bow in close pursuit. A tattered old truck sitting in the center of the mostly vacant parking lot, which you assume is your destination. Along the way, your eager cousin, unable to contain her no-doubt illimitable energy, she charges forward to the truck. She tosses the bags into the bed, and, seeing that the two slower member of this party are only 3/4s of the way there, she jumps up on the side and begins kicking her legs and whistling. You turn to Big Mac, asking
	“Is she always like this?” Big Mac looks towards you, a slight glare encouraging you to shut up. You gracefully comply. You toss your bags in the back, and walk to the passenger’s side. Absent-mindedly, you open it and get in, shutting the door behind you. You forget that there are three passengers, only to be reminded of the matter when Apple Bloom opens it and pushes to into the middle seat. You find yourself squeezed between the two Apples, the cabin being intimately tiny. This couldn’t get worse, you think, silently sulking. Things get worse immediately when Apple Bloom reaches past you and turns on the radio
	“Go get it out boy! Say I’m the only one that makes you this crazy!” Oh no, please no, no country please. Apple Bloom jumps a little bit in excitement when she hears the sound, and chimes in with her high-pitched voice. “Come on, tell me how boy! How I’m the only thing you’re thinkin ‘bout lately!” Your iPhone’s in your pocket, along with earbuds. You try to reach them, each new verse increasing the frantic attempts to access your pockets. You can’t get into them, due to the close quarters of the truck. However, as a blessing in disguise, Apple Bloom stops when she notices your hand working its way between your thigh and hers, which have been pressed together. The blessing doesn’t last long:
	“Anon, why are ya touching my leg like that?”  she asks innocently, while Big Mac whips his face you-wards, his furious eyes burning a hole in your head

	“I was looking for my headphones! I was trying to get into my pocket!” comes your panicked cry. You may not be from around here, but you know not to cross the silent, strong types. You scootch closer to him, trying to increase the visibility of the situation, which you point at
	“See! There’s like, no way I couldn’t touch her leg!” He glares at you even harder, while Apple Bloom just looks at the both of you questioningly. Then, miraculously, he pulls back and lets out a soft chuckle
	“I know. Real tight in here.” You exhale most of your terror and move back over, your life spared for the moment. The rest of the ride passes with silence form you and Big Mac, and unending crooning from the littlest farmer. The scrappy little truck pulls up to a giant barn, followed by Big Mac turning it off . This causes the radio to stop, along with the chipper sing-along; you’d be raising your hands in the air with the biggest cheer if there were room. Your cousins hop out of the car, and your sides feel like they expand, free from their imposing bodies. You follow them out, only to be greeted by the most horrifying of gargoyles. Green-tinged skin, wispy white hair, and a gnarled hand… that’s coming right for you! You instinctively take a step back, narrowly avoiding the grossest hand pat in the world
	“Well howdy there, Anon!” The old lady creaks, her hand receding to its previous place by her side. “Boy, I haven’t seen you since you were this tall,” she exclaims, holding up her hands to show about a foot in length. This must be Granny. You’d hoped she was the kind of old person that sat in their room and wouldn’t communicate unless it was to instruct you to turn that racket down. Because old people, as scientists have proven, are way super icky. True to your beliefs, your own great aunt was threatening you with her affections, the withered hands ready to spring on and ravage your cheeks with pinches. With a truly forced smile, more of a grimace, you nod along as she recites some pointless family story. Apple Bloom had been awestruck by it holding onto every word, whereas Big Mac was looking at you out of the corner of his eye. In all your pretending you listen, you didn’t hear her tell you that they were going down to somebody’s house to pick up AJ. 
	If you’d been listening, you’d know that she was just finishing up band practice, and needed a ride. She had asked if you wanted to come, and said that if not, you could just stay home and unpack. You, hearing only the tone, and recognizing it as a question, responded with an over-exuberant yes. She smiled wide, showing off every one of her snaggly teeth, and began marching down to the truck. She opens the door for you, and a pit opens up in your stomach. Instead of climbing in, she just smiles there, barely moving. Apple Bloom had charged in, eager to ride next to you again, but Granny pulled her back out with some terrifying secret strength, reminding her that there wasn’t much space. This ride managed to be even worse than the ride up here, merely through the awkwardness of riding with Big Mac, who didn’t say a word.
	You arrive at some weird-looking house that’s all shimmery, as if it were made out of crystals or glass or something. It’s standing alone, almost in the middle of the street, like a one-house cul-de-sac, with other houses forming a perimeter around the street leading up to it. You hop out of the truck once Big Mac brings it to a halt, and look up at it. If the sun weren’t directly in your eye, you may have gotten a better look instead of a piercing pain. Shutting your eyes and looking down, the sound of a car door slamming informs you of Big Mac’s exit. Without the distraction of the titanic house, your ears pick up a faint rumbling, or something like that. Hard to put a word to it, especially with it being so faint. Blurry eyed from the ray of sun, you follow the hazy form of Big Mac as he ascends the steps and enters without even knocking. Come on man, have some manners. The open door no longer blocking the sounds from inside, you can clearly hear the frenetic clamor of a garage band. You wipe your feet on the welcome mat and follow Big Mac down a series of halls and stairs, each heralding greater volume as you close the distance. He opens the final door, and you’re met with a cascade of noise and teenage girls jumping about

	Big Mac finds a seat near the door and sits, hands in his lap. Already tired from the train ride and the family, you sit down sullenly beside him, not at all happy to listen to this. It’s not that bad, as you happen to notice through your burgeoning headache. You’re just a bit too exhausted for this now. Your head falls into your hands, and stays there through the end. As the music crashes to a close, a voice tells everyone that that was almost as awesome as its owner. Some more clamor, this time with voices, some crashing of instruments, and then a pat on your shoulder. Your head transports itself to your left hand, your left elbow supporting itself on your knee, and you mumble a concise
	“Euuugh... sup?” A smiling girl, bending over so that she’s eye level, asks you how you were doing. The cowboy hat on her head tells you that this is your cousin Applejack
	“You’re Anon, aren’tcha?” she asks in a lazy Southern drawl
	“Yes, that would be me”
	“Well it’s a pleasure to meet ya! I’m Applejack! Didn’t much expect you to be here at band practice, but I cain’t say I’m unhappy about it!” She beckons the girls over to you, and your spirits rise as a torrent of cute girls assemble before you. A litany of odd-sounded names match the odd-looking girls, and you smile your biggest at each of them. Maybe something good can come from this trip after all. Your meetings seem to go adequately, with the pick-haired one offering you a more radiant smile than the rest.
	A brief round of goodbyes pass, and you’re back to the truck, an extra member tagging along. A phone number marks itself as the singular piece of luck you’ve scraped up in this unfortunate trip. Applejack sits close next to you, making you feel a bit uncomfortable in a different way than the others. Apple Bloom had been too spritely, Big Mac too imposing, Granny too old. But Applejack was nice to you, flashing a gorgeous smile constantly, her light laughter filling your eyes as she told hilarious stories about her bandmates. She had this strange combination of girliness, like that of that pink girl, while being distinctly grounded, or down-to-earth. You were liking her a little too much, considering her being related to you. It wasn’t a full on crush, nothing like that. Just a bit of affection you weren’t too overjoyed to entertain. And so it was that you mimicked Big Mac, and silently wandered off inside your own head. The truck stopped, and you slide out of the car, Applejack in short pursuit
	“Here, lemme help you find your room.” You thank her, and look into the bed of the truck. Your shit!
	“My shit!” Applejack looked almost as shocked at your wording as you were at the disappearance of your luggage. Your eyes darted over to Big Mac, as you worriedly asked “Where’s my stuff?”
	“They got it,” came his typically short reply, as he pointed towards the house. You breathed a sigh of relief, and began the march up to the house. You find Applejack behind you, her lips pursed and her eyes stony. What’s eating her?
	“You know, you really shouldn’t be swearing, anon. Ah get that that’s what they do back up in the city, but that ain’t how we do things here.” Oh man, was she serious, you say to yourself, keeping yourself from laughing but not smirking. She continues looking at you with those uncomfortably cold eyes. Huh. Guess she was. You nod, and toss out a meek promise not to ever do it again. Though you can tell she doesn’t completely buy it, she seems somewhat satisfied by the words. You make it into your house, and almost start off to your room before remembering you don’t know where your room is
	“Hey, where’s my room?”
	“Anoooooon!”  comes a small, chipper voice. Oh geez, it’s friggin Apple Bloom again. The small, sunburnt body of the smallest Apple comes stomping across the banister above you. She runs hallway down the stairs, grips the railings, and vaults to the bottom with a loud “Oof!” and a frightening stomp 
	“Apple Bloom!” her elder sister chides, “Ah told you not to be jumping down those stairs! You could hurt yourself or someone else!” Apple Bloom might have heeded the advice, but in her temporary shame, she looked away and saw a suppressed smile on your face. It was a pretty cool jump, after all; AJ had almost jumped in the air. Your approval accidently given, Apple Bloom shook off the look of embarrassment. She nodded obediently to AJ, but it was clear her heart wasn’t in it. AJ begins to lead you upstairs, but Apple Bloom chokes out a quick “wait!” She cuts herself off abruptly once AJ turns to look at her. She looks at her older sister, her eyes widening to an absurd, heart-melting degree. Her small hands reach up to her mouth, making a prayer-like gesture 
	“Pleeeease, please please please-” she whines, adding another plea to the mysterious wish. Her older sister glances from her to you, then back at her. A comic smile crosses her lips, and she nods her assent before turning back to you
	“Apple Bloom asked if she could help you unpack. Would you be alright with that?” you shrug your shoulders, not really caring for the idea, but ready to accept help with your luggage. Apple Bloom jumps in the air, and grabs the bag you’d lain at your feet, then rushes upstairs. More awake now, you move up the stairs at a greater pace than your typical saunter. A wide, vacant hallway greets you, with no trace of Apple Bloom. Her sweet voice calls out from one of the bedrooms.
	“Ahnon! Ah’m in here!” You follow the voice into the room furthest back and to the right. Oh good heavens
	Apples. Apples everywhere. Apple rug set over a soft red and green floor. Apple drapes and apple wallpaper. Apple blankets and sheets on the bed with apples carved into it. Apple girl lying on the bed, your non-apple possessions strewn about. If there was ever an apple-obsessed serial killer, this is what their house would look like. You walk over to the bed, still trying to take in all the apples. Your littlest cousin sets down the shirt she was refolding and scooted over to you
	“Anon, Ah’m real glad you’re here.” The girl’s exuberance had been slowly turning from annoying to perplexing, impelling you to ask
	“Why?”
	“Well,” she starts off, matter-of-factly, before lying down on her bad and tracing apples on your blankets, “This place can get kind of boring.” Not trusting your ability to respond without sarcasm, you lift your eyebrows
“Ah know, it doesn’t seem like it,” she explains, buying your ruse of surprise, “but there’s just not that much to do!” She sits straight up, her frustrated pout threatening to melt your heart, “And the worst part is, the only thing anyone around her wants to talk about, or do stuff with, is apples!” She stand up on the bed and begins acting out caricatures of her kin
	“Come on now, sis,” she says with her chin thrust forward and her hands on her hips, “We all gotta work together. That’s what being a family’s all about! That’s why you can’t keep blowing up parts of the barn with your friends crazy experiments!” You tilt your head and widen your eyes in confusion, but she moves ever onwards. She hunches over, closing her eyes and waving a shaking finger in front of her
	“Now now, little Apple Bloom, back in my day, we never wore awesome clothes or when tree-surfing.”  her voice, now creaky and labored, groans “We only wore lame clothes and married whoever our parents wanted us to.” She straightens up, pushing her mouth downwards to make a morose, bored-looking face. Then she just looks at you for a few seconds with blank eyes, followed by an “Eeyup,” in her deepest voice. Which of course is not even close to deep. Then her legs collapse under her, and she falls on her behind, sighing deeply. You feel like you oughtta be defending her family or something. That’s what you were taught to do
	“Apple Bloom, that’s wrong,”  you say, looking sternly at her. In the face of her disappointment and regret, you tell her “It’s more like this.” You open your jaw and let it hang, and soften and unfocus your eyes as you look at her but appear as if looking through her.
	“Eeeyup,” you drawl, emphasizing each syllable by tilting your head down, then up. And your little cousin bursts out laughing beside you
	“No no no, he’s like this!” She stands straight up, stiff as a board, and does even better . A couple more minutes of impressions, and Apple Bloom is positively glowing. Even more than before, if you could guess. Still, this time her exuberance doesn’t bother you. Laughter, high-pitched, squeaky and touched by her accent, rings through the room. You find yourself joining her, a rumbling chuckle turning into an uproar. You hunch yourself over to an absurd degree, you face almost meeting your knee and tell her in the most crackly, witchy voice you can muster
	”Why you little-un ain’t oughhta bein laughin at your elders! I youghta be paddlin’ yer hide!” Snickers keep erupting from you during your performace, but Bloom doesn’t seem to mind, judging by her gasping for air through her laughing. A hard knock interrupts the two of you. The two of you shut up right quick, fearing you’d been caught
	“Reckon they heard us?” a meeker Bloom whispers to you
	“Not sure how they couldn’t,” you respond, suddenly aware of how loud you’d been. “Except maybe Granny.” Bloom snickers at that, then sits up straight when the door opens. The stern face of Applejack enters, gazing at the two of you with a squint Clint Eastwood could only dream of having.
	“Hey, Applejack, what’s up?” You say coolly, familiar in the circumstance of keeping secrets. You try to control your scowl, which always arose in the face of authority figures. A partial success, as your mouth had moved to a state of neutrality, but your eyes .
	“Oh, just wanted to see what all the ruckus was about,” she responds, looking at you evenly, then over at Bloom. Bloom gulped guility, ruining what might have been a good cover. AJ’s eyes glanced over the room
“Noticed you two ain’t unpacked yet.” You grin facetiously, 
	“Well, there was a lot, and we just got kinda intimidated.” Applejack looks over at your three bags, then back to you. You didn’t know eyes could get that narrow. Then she shrugs, and with a big sigh, offers to
	“help y’all out.” Dinner’s gonna be pretty soon.” The three of you make short work of your belongings, with a minor hitch in the process
	“Cool,” Bloom says, holding a pair of your Neon Genesis Evangelion boxers in the air, stretching the elastic waistband. You blush furiously, and swipe them out of her hands while she laughs at you. AJ’s points a “you serious?” look your way, then goes back to putting your jeans in the dresser. You harrumph, and stick your nose in the air. Ain’t nobody gonna insult your rad boxers. No sooner do you finish than you hear a triangle clanging like a frantic church bell. You guess that’s it
	“Alright, let’s go on down,” AJ says, walking towards the door. Bloom had started to ease open your underwear drawer, when she’s caught 
	“Apple Bloom!”  her sister cries, a partly incredulous, partly infuriated look crosses her face
	“Aw,” she pouts, then shuffles towards the door
	“Stop looking at my bloomers, Bloom.” She chuckles at this, before stopping when her sister’s look returns. As the two of your exit, AJ follows. You hear her mutter, barely audible.  
	“…and that is not how I sound…” Heh. The three of you head down the stairs, the loud creaking announcing your arrival. A sumptuous smell shocks you as you hit the landing. You dart into the dining room, eager to find the source of this spellbinding scent. An incredible spread meets your eye, the perfect welcome to a first meal. A straight up roast turkey sits pretty in the center, surrounded by potatoes and stuffing. A tray of butter accompanies the steaming mashed potatoes. The whole meals lies in glittering metal dishes, intricate patterns traced upon the edges. A loaf of garlic bread, a gravy train, and a great bowl of yams fill the rest of the table in. Your face must have reflected the awe you felt, because you’re seeing AJ grinning at you out of the corner of your eye
	“We figured, since this is the first time we’ve seen you in years, we oughtta welcome you in style.” You nodded and thanked her over and over, more touched by the inclusion than you’d like to admit. The rest of the Apples have already been seated, and you join them. Bloom sits next to you, of course, her chair surreptitiously scooting close to you. The lot of you load up your plates, faces eager in anticipation. Before you dig in, you feel a tap on your shoulder, and notice everyone’s heads bowed. Their hands are joined, two being offered to you. Oh yeah. You’d done this a long time ago, before your mother decided it was unfashionable. You grasp the hands beside you, and bow your head as well.
	“Bless us, oh Lord, in these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through 
Christ, our Lord.”  comes AJ’s voice, followed by a resounding “Amen!” It’d been a long time since you’d been a part of this, but you felt a little comforted by it, though you’d expected the opposite. And then you dig in. Pile of food after pile of food is shoveled into your mouth, your appetite greater than you’d noticed. A bottle of sparkling cider makes its way to you, and you make good use of it. After the greater portion of the meal is concluded, you sit back and sigh, occasionally munching on more. Granny speaks up, her toothy smile less disturbing to you
	“Well, how’d ya like it?” You can’t help but return a grin
	“It was absolutely fantastic! I can’t believe you did this for me!” Your favorite Apple pipes up next to you, a graceful smile warming your heart.
	“That’s how we treat kin round here, Anon.” You reactively smile at the kindness, but it feels like a whole is gaping within. Here was basically a straight up Thanksgiving meal made just for you, for no other reason. And your own parents never lifted a fucking finger on the actual holiday. By the time dessert comes around, you just aren’t in the mood. This was nice of them, but you still barely knew them. You were just the shitty kid of the world’s shittiest parents. You brush off somebody’s concern over your imperfectly hidden melancholy. You tap at your food for some minutes, then quietly excuse yourself. A DS awaited, ready to take you out of your uncomfortable life. As you slunk away, a small hand touched your back. You twitched, hesitating at deserting the owner’s outreach. Then you walked up the stairs. 
	The quietness of your room was somewhat soothing. The conversations of families, others and your own, was never your favorite sound. But your room was the solitude, the perfect escape. And boy howdy, you wanted nothing more than that. You grab your DS off the dresser, and boot it up. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some legendaries to capture. A couple of hours later, you’re the proud new owner of a Latios. A low knock at the door told you Bloom was coming
	“Yes?”
	“Hey, Anon.”  she says tiredly, her usual spiritedness giving way to an easy contentment. She enters, dressed in baby blue pajamas, her signature bow missing. She smiles at you, her eyes half-lidded. Hnnnnng. She crouches slightly, then hops onto your bed with a small *pomf*. Her legs dangle off, not reaching the ground, while her thin arms are placed at either side of her, hands holding onto the blanket. You turn your DS off, and place it on the nightstand. We aren’t done just yet
	“What’s up?”
	“We’re about to do our midnight prayers. I’m coming to getcha.”
	“Oh. Uh, alright.” You can’t really see any harm in it... She looks up to the sky, and your eyes follow. The inky black sky had been steadily swallowing the yellow glow that had persisted throughout the day. A handful of glittering stars, bunched together like excited faces of parents at a graduation, had sprung up from nowhere. The perfect blackness that surrounds them, giving them their tremendous luster, shocks you. There was always so much light in the city, you’d never really got a good look at them. The sight transfixes you, your full attention set on finding good ol’ Orion. Practically a tradition for you. Her fingers interrupt you, tugging at your sleeve
	“Anoooon,” she says, drawing your name out. You turn to her, a pair of golden eyes meeting yours. When did she get so close? “Come on, let’s go.” A knot in your stomach appears alongside that warmth she gave you. It isn’t helped when she grabs your hand and leaps off the bed with a teensy “hup.” You follow her, not wanting to break the connection. A conversation-less walk ensues, your cousin humming softly, the bounce in her step almost hidden, but not quite. And you, following gratefully, capable of being led just about anywhere by this strange girl. Bloom opens the door to the master bedroom, the three remaining Apples all kneeling by the bed. You take your place beside them, feeling a little out of place, but not wholly. You plunge your mind for memories of the small nightly prayer, but come up empty. Fending off thoughts of Metallica, you close your eyes and listen
	“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. This I ask in Jesus’ name, Amen.” You rise, preparing to return to your gravely injured Snorlax
	“Wait, Anon.” AJ’s looking at you, a benevolent visage making you less inclined to exit. “Ah don’t mean to keep piling all these traditions on you, but we’ve got a couple more; you can join us if you’d like. If not, we won’t be offended.” Bloom nods eagerly, and Big Mac graces you with a single, solemn tilt of his head. “At night, we say what the best and worst parts of the day was.”
	”High-Low?” you blurt out, flashbacks of your childhood bringing back the name. The Apples beam, their guest becoming a little more familiar
	“Yeah, I’ve heard it called that,” Applejack informs you. “Would you like to go first?”
	“Yeah, sure. Uhh…” You have to think for a minute. “Well, the early morning was pretty rough, and the bus was trash, so I guess getting here was my low. “And as for my high… definitely that dinner. Boy, that was the best thing I’d had in a long time.” Granny shows joy in another yellow crescent at the compliment, then speaks up
	“My low was gittin that consarned turkey outta the ov’n without no help from my own flesh and blood,” a terrifying gaze petrifies the younger generation of Apples “and my high wus gittin that there compliment from my great-nephew over there.” Big Mac’s turn next: 
	“Low, missing out on seein’ Cheerilee. High, food.” AJ follows him up, having her low be “that gosh-dern Rainbow hogging all the spotlight during practice, like she always does! But my high made up for it: always love meetin’ new family, and Anon sure seems great!” Visions of the dinner return: the joy of being wanted mixed with the bitterness of not having your own parents compare resulting in a complicated expression. You’re interrupted by Bloom throwing her arms around you
	“My high was Anon! Ain’t got no low!” You try to suppress a smile. You do not succeed. All Apples except for the one currently hanging on your neck stare at your grin. The discomfort of being the center of attention allows you to force the smile back down. A less genuine smile takes its place, and you pat Bloom’s arm. Maybe they wouldn’t see the difference in smiles, but you’d rather be in control . You were hesitant about showing affection and happiness around others: after all, experience had taught you that the worst moments came soon after. Nobody could blame you for protecting yourself. Nobody. Still, you appreciated the kindness of the family about you, even if you didn’t really belong. It’d be rude to reject their favor, so you let out a polite laugh, pretending to have a good time since you weren’t willing to actually have one. Your distance may have been spotted, judging by the focused look AJ shines on you. Like a flashlight, her eyes seem to be searching you, aiming to bring your secrets to light. Naturally, you turn from her, trying to keep your eyes and face from facing her. What would happen if she knew, you couldn’t say. But you were beyond even considering the possibility: hiding was what you did and what you do. Bloom continues holding your neck, but loosens her grip in order to crawl up your back. Her knees clamber up your back, then split to either side. Her feet slip outward, then wrap around you, meeting each other around your stomach area. Her head rested on your left shoulder, her face immediately to your left. Your turn slightly to the left, in order to see her out of the corner of your eye. 
	“Sup.”
	“Yeehaw,” she yawns back, with a feeble attempt to raise her right arm in the air, presumably to make the motion of twirling a rope. 
	“Need a ride?” Her head lolls up and down twice in a sleepy nod Then she turns away, and slumps back into the crook of your neck. It stays there, bobbing slightly with her breath, as you put your arms under her legs to support her, and stand up. It isn’t the most graceful motion, but you manage to do it without Apple Bloom falling off. Before you get to the door, you realize a major problem in your course.
	“Hey, where’s her room?”  you ask, turning towards AJ. Her radiant face the perfect physical expression of the word “d’aww.” Eyes wide open, mouth slightly ajar in a half-wondrous, half ecstatic look. Ignoring your question, she informs you of how cute you’re looking right now, giving the almost sleeping girl a piggyback ride. You face flushes, and you cough away the embarrassment. You repeat your query, disguising your own small joy with inquisitiveness. Your semi-curt tone breaks her out of her stupor
	“Uh, it’s on the back right of the upper hallway, right across from yer room.” 
	“Thanks,” you huff, and adjust Bloom for the ride. Feeling comfortable with her position, you set off. The stairs presenting a bit of difficulty, but you managed to get Bloom to her room, safe and sound. Standing at her door, you shift her weight to your left while your right hand frees itself to open the door. The creak startles you, even though you should have expected it. Your hand freezes where it is, not wanting to wake the sleeping Apple on your shoulder. Carefully, you try again, the squeaking being more drawn out but less loud overall. Still, you cringe, wishing this house could just shut up for half a second. You had a dozing little girl on your shoulder, and darnit, you didn’t need every stair, loose floorboard, and knob trying to wake her up! Making your way through her room in the low light, you find her bed in the luminescent moonlight. Apple-themed blankets and pillows covered that one too, to nobody’s surprise. You realize it’d be real rude to just dump her on the covers, leading you to decide to tuck her in. It’s only polite, you tell yourself. Again you tilt her to the left, balancing out your weight as your right arm extends to grab the blankets. You grip them tightly, and move them down the bed, sliding your body along them so as not to shake your precious cargo too much. Repeating the process with the sheets, the pure white of the mattress cover is exposed. Turning around, you bend your knees until you feel Bloom make contact with the mattress. Twisting your arm around, you hold her limply up as you turn around, then gently lower her onto the bed. Well, she’s lying down now, but perpendicular to the bed. You slide your arm under her back, and lift her feet in the air, swiveling her into the proper position. Finally, you lift the blanket over her feet, then spread it over her body. Satisfied at the comfy looking girl, head just above the blankets, you tiptoe to your room, and collapse on your bed


Tuesday	
“Anon! Hey Anon!” Your awesome dream is ripped from you in those two words. You were a super cool, famous author with vibrant brown hair, a dazzling smile, and at least a dozen chicks wanting your sweet, sweet bod. But instead of giving it to them, all you can do is struggle to sit up and rub the sleep out of your eyes. There’s a strange pressure on your legs, keeping you from moving them. Opening your eyes, a blurry shape forms before you. Apple Bloom. Of course. Leaning in closer, she tries again to get your attention: 
	“Anooooooooo-“  Your hand covers her mouth, informing her that yes, I heard you the first time. “Anon,”  comes the garbled reply from her covered mouth.
	“What?” you say, trying to be short, but being unable to deliver upon seeing her excited face. 
	“Anon, wanna go on an adventure?” You tilt your head, not sure if you heard her right.
	“An adventure?”
	“Yeah, an adventure! Me and my friends are gonna see if we can find our cutie-marks today!” She’s still not making any sense, you think to yourself, not sure whether you ought to blame her youthful silliness or your being half-asleep. You shift your legs, just enough to make her uncomfortable, and she wobbles off. Her radiant face returns to you after securing her balance, an answer still eagerly anticipated. But this was morning, and you were not an early riser. Turning your body away from her, you swivel your legs out from under the covers and perch on your bed. Shit. You’ve got a pair of boxes just filled to burst with morning wood. And judging by the look of the opening in the front, bursting was imminent. You lurch forward, hoping Bloom doesn’t have to be subjected to this. Keeping your front facing away from her, you turn back to look at her. She’s dropped her inquisitive look, and seems to be focused on something lower. The back side of your boxers, it would appear. You were wearing those gundam shorts she marveled at a bit ago, so maybe she was just looking at that. You kindly ask her to “Leave so I can put on some pants!” to which she breaks her staring contest, and hesitantly walks over to the door. She doesn’t quite leave, instead hanging around. Thinking she’s gone, you turn towards the door and pick up the pants from yesterday, lying there on the floor. It’s only when the door closes not a few moments later that you realize you just showed off a very visible half-mast. Luckily, no one is here to see your cheeks burst into flame. 
	Your horrified look, filled with worry over who might be told and how much trouble you get in, is not witnessed. You grimace, then pull your pants all the way up. Well, whatever happens, happens. You pull down a clean shirt, some socks, and march out the door, ready for any doom that might present itself. Trudging down the stairs, your body still drunk on sleep, you enter the kitchen. Bright light seems to pile on every surface, the multiple windows eager to present the morning sun. You shield your eyes and take a minute to get used to it. The sound of clinking dishes grabs your notice first, followed by the bright glows of red and yellow hair, belonging to the Apple girls. On the table is a pile of pancakes and bacon, with all the necessary sides. By the looks of the little pile, much of it has already been eaten, though it is more than sufficient for your appetite. 
	You wish the Apple girls a good morning as you fill a plate. Applejack turns and offers you a bright smile and returns the greeting. Bloom keeps washing dishes. A sinking feeling fills your stomach, but you push it to the side. Nothing you can do, you think. Nothing you can do. Practically a motto for you at this point. You sit at the table, silently eating the delicious breakfast, when a Bloom returns. Her face perfectly matches the one which woke you up, unchanged by the sight she could not have missed. Her question returns, as though no other questions or concerns needed consideration: 
	“So do you wanna hang out with us?” After this, you figure you ought to stay on her good side. If that meant hanging out with a bunch of hyperactive freshmen… . Eh, you could do it. Whatever she wanted was gonna be the name of the game today.
	“Yeah, sure. Sounds good!”
	“Yay!” she shouts, a small leap of joy sending her bouncing upwards “I just know we’re gonna get our Cutie Marks today!” Wait a minute. You thought you’d misheard the first time
	“What’s a Cutie Mark?”
	“You mean you don’t know?” Something akin to shock and horror cover her face
	“Can’t say I do.” You don’t entirely follow what happens next, but it has to do with a specific skill or your purpose in life or whatever, something you find out after you try it and you guess a little picture that you make, which you then gotta put everywhere?  It isn’t particularly clear. Apple Bloom points at AJ’s tri-apple hair clip, and tells you how she’s got that symbol everywhere. You do seem to recall seeing that symbol a lot around her
You nod and tell her that you’ll 
	“… help you out today.”
	“Well, not just me, silly,” she laughs, poking your head. “It’s all three of us.” You hear a door slam open, and two high-pitched voices scream in unison: 
	“THE CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS!!!” As the pretty girl jumped up and rushed to the door in excitement, you breathed a heavy sigh. It was gonna be a long day. Three girls filter in through the door, big smiles on all their faces. First if, of course, your cousin Apple Bloom, wearing her trademark red bow and the sweetest smile. She’s got these tight little shorts on and a light green camisole to match her bow, matching the hot July weather. In the middle is a girl with pink and purple striped hair, filled with curls, and a big blue pair of overalls covering a white and pink striped shirt. Her skin is straight white, like a darn marshmallow, and she’s got these luminescent green eyes. She’s wearing a smile to match Bloom’s. Completing the weird-haired trio is this purple haired chick, cut real short. She’s got purple eyes to match, and a sort of defiant half-sneer, the sort of expression that asks the world to give her all she’s got . Still, you can tell she’s happy too, just by the bounce she’s got in her step. She’s wearing a light brown shirt with green pants, and a small red backpack. Oh, and there was one more thing. They all had little blue badges, with a caped yellow figure poorly sewn on top of it. 
	They stand before you, proudly sticking their meagre chests out. All three of them hold a little smirk, staring off into the mid-distance while looking like a posing superhero squad. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t cute. After a moment, the purple-haired one steps forward, landing squarely inside your personal space bubble. She thrusts her chin forward, staring you directly in the eye:
	“I’m Scootaloo!” she boasts, as if she were presenting a priceless treasure owned by her exclusively. 
	“I’m guessing you’re the Anon that Apple Bloom won’t shut up about?” You start to nod, before you see Apple Bloom’s cheeks turn as red as her bow. Broken, unsuppressed chuckles tumble from your mouth when Bloom looks at the ground, her arms sticking to her sides, ending in fists. 
	“Ah did not talk about him that much!” she answers Scootaloo petulantly. The white-skinned one tilts her head inquisitively and widens her already large eyes and informs Bloom in the voice of pure innocence: 
	“But he’s all you talked about for the past day.” Scootaloo snorts, and gives her assent:
	”You sure were. Really blew up my phones with this guy.” She looks you up and down with the eye of an antique dealer. . You even sure her mouth compress and a small “hmmm” escape during her elongated appraisal. Distinctly uncomfortable, you look to the side and see the unnamed third eying you with a similar lack of shame. Her eyes are focused on you, her eyes boring into yours before they lower slowly, covering your mouth, chest, and… geez, she’s really giving you the eye down there. You cough loudly, hoping to interrupt the girls in their tactless staring. You fail. Turning your gaze to your Bloom, you tilt your head and raise your hands in a what-the-hell stance. She returns by throwing her hands up and shaking her head, apologetic and helpless at the same time. 
	“Well, let’s go!” comes the tomboyish voice of Scootaloo,  who promptly turns and heads door-wards. 
	“Wait a second!”  you start, halting the three girls. “You didn’t say who you were.” You point at the third, wide-eyed girl.
	“Oh!” she stammers, before telling you “I’m Sweetie Bell. Rarity’s sister.” Apple Bloom elbows her, and loudly whispers
	“He don’t know your sister, he just got here.” Sweetie looks surprised, then… relieved? Before you can ask her who her sister is, you’ve got Apple Bloom tugging at your arm and Scootaloo pushing your back, both moving you towards the door.
	“Come on, get a move-on,” says the pusher. You’d be annoyed if she wasn’t so damn cute. You feel a distinct lack of shame in you titling of Scoots, happy to find a girl to think cute who doesn’t share your genes. Sweetie’s pretty cute too, you demure to yourself. By this time, she’s got your other arm, pulling you along with Bloom. You feel like you’re being railroaded into something by their insistence on you moving without having given any indication of not wanting to go. Not that you really wanted to go; these girls were cute and all, but they were also freshmen girls. Still, you wanted to make sure Bloom didn’t say anything. The door arrives, and you find yourself pushed through, into the bright outdoors. As you march along streams and grassy knolls and so forth, Scootaloo begins tell you about the day ahead
	“So, we’re here to figure out what we’re gonna do with our lives,” she says without a trace of unhappiness at her cluelessness. You wished you could join her in that. “And so we do everything we can to find that little spark you get you when you do something you know you have to do. Which brings us to today.” She stops in her tracks, and turns to face you. 
	“There’s three things we can do today: roller-skating, nail-painting, or skateboarding.” One of these doesn’t feel like it belongs. . Confusedly, you ask her if nail-painting is something you do for a living. She scoffs “That among other things. Maybe we’re supposed to be manicurists. Maybe you are.” You don’t try to disguise your horror at the idea of spending an afternoon painting nails and getting your own painted goodness knows what color. 
	“Why don’t we pass on that one,” you tell her. She breathes out a sigh of relief you didn’t know she was holding. “Good,” she breathes, before explaining the other options. 
	“Now, I know a really cool place to skateboard, but we can only roller skate at the arena. It’s kids-skate-free day, so there’s gonna be a lot of little kids there.” Again, horror graces your face, leading her to assume your choice of skateboarding. “Skateboarding it is,” she cries triumphantly, pumping her fist in the air. The other girls look at her with suspicion and you do realize there was a hint of deviousness in her explanations. As you’re led further, you think on it, and realize that she pretty obviously framed the options so skateboarding would be picked. It doesn’t bother you, however. She was pretty clearly a tomboy, and neither nail-painting nor spending the day with kids could be expected to lie within her preferences. A cute girl wanting to skateboard wasn’t so bad, you think to yourself. 
	. You lead the troupe, walking directly in front of everyone as the lot of you walk off the trail and into a thicker part of the nearby forest. Dense leaves brush against you, and the two other girls are clinging to your back, keeping safe from the obstructive branches. Once the trees and foliage begin to thin out, they move up and in, almost clinging to your sides. You can notice their close proximity to you, enjoying the grip of delicate hands of pretty girls on the sleeve of your flannel. They huddle close to you, like scared girlfriends in haunted houses. You savor the feeling, then try to cease immediately when you remember that one of these beautiful girls is your cousin. You would have succeeded, if Bloom hadn’t been whacked by a branch Scoots had accidently pulled forward, causing her to bury herself deep in your shirt with a hurt squeak. Scootaloo draws your attention from the girls by stopping at a ridge.. She turns back, sporting an impish smirk.. As you step out next to her, you see the deep incline of the hill beneath you, riddled with trees and rocks. Oh no. Scoots gives you a wicked grin, and points to an area down the slope
	“That’s where we’re gonna go” You can do this. You’re a big cool guy. Not to mention there’s three cute girls watching. You look from side to side, both Sweetie and Bloom looking up at you with inquisitive eyes. Looking to see if you’re manly enough. The two girls holding onto your arms convinces you to go through with it. Not that Scoots wasn’t deeply involved in this as well. Her defiant smile can’t be resisted: you can’t resist the challenge. But you don’t have be stupid just because you’re stupid. You step forward, leaving the two girls behind you. Matching her cocky smirk, you ask her
	“Why don’t you show me how it’s done? It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a skateboard.” A small sliver of fear flashes across her face, breaking the façade for only a moment.
	“Sure,” she replies, her show of confidence almost convincing you entirely. She places the skateboard on the ground, her tiny shoe resting on top of it. The wind blows softly, rustling her hair as she gazes downwards, planning her descent. Then, without a word, she kicks the ground and brings that foot onto the board. The two other girls gasp, and grab onto your arms once more. You hardly notice the painful squeezing in your own absorption in Scootaloo’s descent. She flies down the hill, gaining speed. She dodges a tree, then another by swiveling her hips to swerve around them. The hill, grassy as ever, doesn’t serve to accelerate her too quickly, slowing down as the decline evens out, she skids to a stop, hopping off the board as it lightly bumps into a nearby tree. The three of you exhale, having held your breath since the start. 
	You start forward, going down to meet her. The two girls at your side, remembering your purpose down here, sprint ahead. But the hill was bumpier than it appeared, and both have respective difficulties. Sweetie Belle falls, her knee hitting the ground. She brings herself up afterward, dusting herself off, and whining about the dirt stains. Apple Bloom may have been fine if she were looking where she was going. But her eyes were on Sweetie, and she trips on a rock in her path. Apple Bloom’s tumble is worse, falling into a nearby tree
	“Apple Bloom!” you shout automatically, your whole body tensing up. You run after her immediately, terrified for her. Leaping over rocks and vines, you barely keep yourself up as you make your way to her. Arriving at her, you collect her into her arms, your scared eyes meeting hers “Are you ok? Are you ok?” you ask more times than you need to. She looks at you, a small bruise on her face
	“Yeah, Anon, I’m fine,”  she answers with a small smile “I’ve had worse. Regularly.” Your eyes move down to her light cloth shirt, which now sported a gaping hole in the center. Enough to see a frilly bra underneath it. It isn’t clear how long you were looking, but it was definitely longer than you should’ve. Following your own eye, she realizes what you’re looking at.
	“Eep!” she cries, covering her shirt with both hands, a blush filling her cheeks. You step back, your own face burning up. You mumble an apology and excuse yourself while Sweetie Belle arrives on the scene. Scootaloo had been jogging up the hill, but you flash her a thumbs up, letting her know her friend is okay. She looks concerned, then keeps on coming. She arrives to the panicking Apple Bloom insisting that the lot of you go home immediately. Sweetie Bell agrees, and begins looking around
	“Which way is the fastest way home?” Scootaloo looks down the hill, then gives you the impish grin from before
	“Down the hill’s the fastest way. So you can still show us how cool you are.” Man, what the hell.
	“Don’t you think that’s a little unnecessary, given the circumstances?”
	“What circumstances? Her shirt got torn, and we have to get home. This doesn’t impede that.” At this, she takes a step towards you, her foot landing solidly between your own. Her face tilts up, inches from yours “Unless you’re too much of a wimp.” There’s something else in her voice, something other than the bitchiness on the outside. Not that you can fully notice it;  the girl whose chest is nearly pressed against yours, her minty breath too clear for comfort, is kind of distracting you. You take a step back, muster your confidence, and try to match her cockiness
	“Yeah, sure, I’ll do it.” You turn over to the other girls, who had been staring at you. Bloom’s got her hand clutching her shirt, and has gotten up. Both pairs of eyes move from you to Scoots and back, mouths barely ajar. You look back to Scoots, who’s still looking at you with those devilish eyes that you’ve been seeing all night. With a sigh, you give up on figuring out what exactly these girls are doing, and start down the hill, towards the lone skateboard. Scoots had made it to a flat clearing, but the hill wasn’t finished yet. The second portion looked even longer, with more trees and rocks than you appreciated. But you were Anon, and you were going full man-mode. The soft feet of your watchers behind you, you step confidently onto the skateboard. You went skiing a long time ago, and you knew that the longer you looked downhill, the less likely you were to actually go. 
	And so you scan quickly for the best path, kick off, and start down. The first thing you notice is that your shoes are not right for this. They aren’t slipping off, per se, but they do not have the grip you know you need. But you’re going faster and faster, and jumping off fails to be an option. You bend down, placing your right hand on the side of the board, trying to keep your center of gravity close to the board. You hold on tightly, and swerve to miss a tree rocketed towards you. Another tree looms in the near future, and you tilt slightly, swishing past that. Rocks and more trees appear, and you safely navigate them all. At this point, you’re making wide swerves, trying to balance out the vertical motion with some side-to-side motion, in order to prevent a constant acceleration. It seems to be working so far, with your maximum speed being slightly unimpressive, but probably keeping you from flying out of control. But one tree comes out where you need it to not, and you’re forced to disrupt your motion, swerving right earlier. It would have been fine, had you not ran into a rocky outcrop. The rumbling under your skateboard disrupts your concentrated efforts, and you find the board wobbling violently underneath you. A thick rock, jutting out at the bottom, touches your front right wheel, and that’s all it takes to send you flying. Only natural that you would fall too, given how it seems to be the norm for today. Your body, airborne for almost three beautiful, terrifying seconds, finally returns to its rightful place in a soft crunch. 
	Sticks break beneath you, a dust cloud arises from your landing area. Groaning in pain, you try to sit up, only for a shock of abdominal pain to implore your cessation. You acquiesce, folding into the fetal position while gritting your teeth. To top it off, the shrieks of high school girls pierce your ears in unison, and grow in size as the footsteps herald their you-ward sprint. The trio of girls arrive at your side, kneeling down. They place their hands on you, worried shrieks frenetically questioning your health. You suck in your breath, and roll over, your chest facing the sky and your legs half bent. Your right arm is trapped underneath your body, unable to be moved. You begin to say you’re fine, but a coursing pain compels you to quit. Unable to maintain the façade of being cool, you try to avoid being a huge wuss, choking the whines and moans threatening to exit your blood-speckled lips. 
	You raise a hand, inviting them to help you up. Apple Bloom grips it immediately, the other two fishing out your right arm with a little help from you. Arms pointed towards the hills in the distance, the three girls pull with all their might, standing you up on abused legs. A pained groaning forces its way out as your arms are positioned on freshman shoulders, heads of purple and pink touching your chest. You notice the caress of your left hand, alternatively squeezing it and rubbing it. Before you can consider the cause, you gasp as you put your weight on your protesting legs. Your weight comes back to the young girls, and you submit yourself to the cute crutches demanding you do so. And so it is for the rest of the journey down the hill and to the house: two concerned girls holding you up and glancing worriedly up at you, and the unseen third petting and squeezing your hand. Bloom foregoes her attendance of your hand as she leaps ahead to ready the house’s door. The previous spurts of agony now blunted, you wonder at the regret you feel at your lonely left hand. You’re led in, turned towards a tall stool, and helped onto it. 
	The kitchen counter before it provides sweet rest, and your legs dangle in the air, rejoicing at the absence of the Earth’s unkind touch. Your head is still somewhat blurry from the pain, but you hear something about treatments, and your escorts fly from you. Apple Bloom is the first to return, having only moved to the kitchen cabinet to retrieve some pills and a glass of water. You can see the worry in her face as she sits next to you, and turns your cut face towards her. She assumes your folded arms aren’t functional, and feeds you the pills, followed by pressing the edge of the glass of water to your lips and turning upwards. The water comes too quickly, and more than a little spills out of your mouth and onto your chin and hands. Making sure to swallow the pills first, you burst out laughing, followed by your anguished chest demanding that you stop. 
	You didn’t think her face could look any more fearful, but she manages to top it when she sees her feeding failure. Determined to help, she sets her face tight in determination, telling you and your attempt to push her glass away that no, no, she’s got this. Her deep concentration leads her to discover the blood smattered about your lips and jaw, the few open cuts having been ignored in favor of finding medicine. Sweetie Belle enters the room with some gauze, and is immediately instructed to get a wet rag. She obeys, handing them both to Scootaloo, who had just entered through the same door holding a bottle, presumably peroxide or alcohol. Apple Bloom grabs the rag out of Scoot’s hands, and begins delicately swabbing your lips. You look at her in confusion when you notice her staring at them, her movements becoming slower and robotic. The rag is slowly pushed out of the way, leaving her fingers tenderly brushing your lips. She licks her lips, and shakes her head, turning away from you, her fingers not stopping. Your lips part slightly, unbeknownst to you. Soft fingers moving about press into the new opening, the inner curve of your lips now being given the same magical treatment. You’re caught to in sensations, the caress capturing you completely. A small cough interrupts your reverie, and you notice an impatient-looking Scootaloo with another rag. 
	Sweetie Belle tugs at her collar in what looks like embarrassment, and Bloom’s hand flees from your lips. Taking a deep breath, you purse your lips and look towards Scoots. She looks annoyed at you, before stepping forward and taking your right arm without gentleness. You cry out in pain, bringing a somber look to her eyes before they grow hard again. As she begins cleaning your arm, she informs you that you shouldn’t have been skateboarding so stupidly, you idiot. You’d retort, but her scrubbing is less than rough, and you don’t want to incur further wrath. Apple Bloom begins washing off the dirt and blood on your other arm, though it is far less present there. Her eyes are directed down, the large red bow almost tickling your nose when you lean down to search for her face. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo reach your upper arms at the same time, and notice that the source of the blood comes from within the shirt, as well as the presence of dirt within such. They look at each other anxiously, then to your shirt, then back at each other. With a gentle prodding of Sweetie Belle, demanding that they take the darn shirt off already, they work with Anon to peel the soiled garment off him.
	Sweetie Belle faints as the red smear gradually reveals itself, a couch thankfully beside her. Apple Bloom looks shocked, but stable, as does Scootaloo. They set to work, before realizing that their rags are too dirty to keep helping. Scoots claims the cleaning procedure to be impossible with the tools at hand, which Bloom reluctantly agrees. Scootaloo then perks up, a smile forcing itself across her face, while she fails to look innocent and nonchalant. She has an idea, and the two cousins lean forward. 
	“What if Anon just took a shower?” Apple Bloom informs her that his legs can’t take the effort, and Anon agrees, adding that he can barely move without fierce pain. Scootaloo opens her mouth too wide, carefully enunciating the Oh of her surprise. She then offers the next best thing: a bath. At the raising of the concern of the boy’s hurt near-paralyzation, she waves it off while trying not to smirk: she and Bloom could take care of that. She laughs out loud at the bright red faces of her conscious cohorts, and assures them that boxers stay on of course, and Anon’s legs needed help as well. A mock expression of worry is directed at Apple Bloom, with the query of if she wanted Anon’s poor legs to get infected. If Bloom didn’t want to, Scoots would be happy to do it herself. There ain’t no way Scoots was goin to be there, with her half-naked cousin, all alone. And so, desperately wishing for a towel or something, Apple Bloom nervously agrees to the plan, her face remaining the same color. She bites her lip and lifts Anon’s arm over her shoulders as Scoots does the same, forcing him up and out of the stool. Wondering why he wasn’t consulted, Anon is led towards the bathroom, when his mind is ripped from the subject. 
	His right arm hung loosely off his cousin’s shoulder, and the feeling of frills reported to him just where his hand was. He’d forgotten her tumble, and what it’d done to her shirt. He tries to pull it off, but once more the pain forbids him any motion beyond trailing these girls, and Bloom, red-faced as ever, does nothing to shake it off. The tossing of his barely functioning arms lands his fingers on soft skin, his mind desperately trying to stave off rude thoughts. The bouncing walk fails to assist, his hands brushing the tops of her chest with every step. Finally, the trio arrives at the bathroom door, with two breathless members, not made such by exertion. The two girls help Anon down onto the side of the tub, the red-bowed one ducking out from under him as soon as possible. Her face turned comically away from Anon through all her motions, she manages to find her way to the faucet, turning it on. 
	The purple-haired tomboy had sat down beside him, still under his arm. The need for support had become somewhat unnecessary, but she apparently thought otherwise. Her hand had come up to grasp his reclining arm, her other wrapped around his waist. Anon tried to appreciate the concern, but was far too flustered by the intimate trip, as well as the couple-like position he now found himself in. Apple Bloom sat down beside Scootaloo, rather than to his open side. Her hands balled up in little fists upon her knees as she bit her lip, looking somewhat shocked. After a minute, Scootaloo remembered the next step of the plan, and asked Apple Bloom to come over to Anon’s other side: his pants needed off. Anon began to protest, informing them that he could handle this just fine, when Bloom herself shushed him. 
	Getting up and standing before him, she bent over, a stern look inches away from his eyes. He was hurt, and he was filthy, and doggone it she was gonna help him and he was not gonna say another word about it. The brightness in her eyes surprised him; her determination and confidence not looking perfectly genuine, but neither was it completely fake. It almost distracted him from the giant tear in her shirt, flashing him a frilly bra and the top curves of her... Ahem! Thinking back on the order, he sighed, and told them to make sure they said anything if they got uncomfortable: he wasn’t gonna be a burden on anyone Scootaloo grinned wickedly, and assured him that she was fine, and Apple Bloom agreed, though not without a nervous gulp. Anon moved forward, unbuttoning his pants, and sliding them out from between his seat and the tub’s edge. His lifted his legs with a little help from the girls, and they slid them off. Tanned legs, somehow caked with dirt and a little blood, greeted the girls. Grimacing, they helped him bring them up and into the water-filled tub. Goodness gracious, it was hot; the adrenaline rushing into his legs allow him to pull them up immediately from the lava pit. The two girls chuckled, and turned the cold water on. After balancing it out, he dropped his legs back in, this time with only a small groan of discomfort. The two girls placed their hands under his arms, and gently helped his torso into the water amid grunts of pain from when the water touched his injuries.
	Anon lies down in the tub, his aching body soaked in the hot water. For just a moment, his embarrassment subsides, mostly due to the searing sensations on his body. A long groan escapes his throat as he relaxes, the tension slowly leaving his body. His arms stretch out, grasping the edges of the tub, and he breathes out long and slow. Overwhelmed with sensation, Anon barely notices the girls staring at him with shallow breaths. Slowly, Scootaloo reaches out to the groaning boy, touching his arm. He doesn’t move, not noticing the light touch. Gulping, Scootaloo grabs the nearby soap, and begins pouring it upon the now muddy arm, creating a soapy film. Apple Bloom still watches, looking between Scootaloo’s work and the injured cousin, noticing a smile growing on his face at the gentle massage of her friend. Suddenly unwilling to continue standing by, she instructs Anon to give her his left arm, to which he lazily lifts the arm and lays it over his chest. She picks up the hand, and gently rubs the soap on his hand, her own fingers moving through his own. He looks at her with soft, smiling eyes, then shock. Scootaloo looks up as he moves his arm, his hand now covering his groin. 
	Shrugging at what she assumes is just an adjustment to keep his arm comfortable, she continues working at his upper arm, the skin lightening as the dirt comes off. Apple Bloom smiles as she works, firmly pressing his arm as she slowly moves up, then back down. Finishing up, she instructs him to sit up, helping him pull his body forward. Scoots sets to work immediately on his back, the matted blood quickly washing off, never having been thick in the first place. Apple Bloom cleans the dirt off his neck, her rag never having descended that far in the kitchen. He tilts his head up, his breaths deepening as he stares as the concentrating girl, who occasionally meets his eyes before bashfully retreating. She starts moving downwards, trying to reach the furthest side of his body, leaving her chest facing downward, the too-loose bra revealing no small amount of skin. Anon chokes back a gasp, and adjusts his hand once more, trying to hide himself. 
	Scootaloo finishing wiping off the back, and together with Bloom make short work of the dirty chest. The thin, scattered grime on his legs starts at the knees, leaving them free to ignore the thighs. They wipe down both legs, working together this time, with Scoots cleaning the upper portion and Bloom cleaning the feet. Both hold determined expressions, but occasionally lapse into monotonous, almost robotic cycles of the same motion, with dilated eyes taking in his weary form. Apple Bloom spies an opportunity for mischief, and whispers a plan to Scoots, who giggles an agreement. Anon, noticing a halting and giggling, looks up in suspicion, knowing that these two girls, in charge of him and in cahoots, likely warrants some worry. Not a moment longer, and his feet are assaulting by tickling, the little fingers suddenly turned tormenting. He laughs through the minor agonies, moving his legs about in a futile attempt to escape their unrelenting assault. Laughing, he begs them to stop; they join him in the former, a conquering mirth leading them to stop, their dominance asserted. They finish wiping off the last bits of blood and grime, and tell him it’s time to shower off the remnants. Bloom pulls the plug, the dirty water beginning to lower, as Scootaloo instructs him to try to stand, her arm wrapping around his body. 
	Remembering what he has to hide, Anon seizes in terror, knowing the secret’s life would last only as long as he could remain under the cloudy water. With a vocal authority coming from his fear, he demands the two girls leave him alone for that, willing to face the agony of standing on his legs over showing off his embarrassment. Unaccustomed to orders from him, especially firm ones like this, they almost accept his proposal, before concern and desire remind him he can barely stand. At the retort that he needs to clean the spot where they missed and double snapped finger-guns pointing to the D, they blush and accept his proposal. He tells them to get him some new clothes, and their blushing faces disappear.
	You turn the water on, as well as pulling the little thing that turns the shower on. Wondering what it’s called, you struggle to stand. More grunts tumble from your mouth, which is pretty much the norm at this point. Still, you manage to keep yourself up long enough to pull off your underwear, finally washing yourself properly. You try to disregard the soldier standing tall between your hips, unable to convince yourself it was solely Scootaloo that caused it. Geez, why couldn’t it have just been her? Now, all the fantasies that had crossed your mind had that taint, resulting from Bloom’s face replacing Scootaloo’s. Shaking your head, you try to clear your mind as you end the cleaning. Still diamonds, you slowly step out of the bathtub and reaching for a towel. A soft eep! reaches your ears as your hand lands on a nearby towel. Then, “what?”  followed by the same eep! from a different voice
	Surprised, you instantly cover your groin. The door slams shut, visions of red and purple disappearing in the loud smash. This day is not going well. You grab the towel and wipe yourself off quickly and lightly, missing more than a few spots. Tying it around your waist, you hop out the bathroom door. Nobody there. What would you even have said if they had remained? Sorry you saw my dick? A step forward yields the feel of cloth on your foot; your clothes, dropped in a scattered mess. Looking about, then silently listening, you drop a sigh, and step back into the bathroom. This day was not going well. The incident of this morning, the ridiculous escapades of your first encounter with the cutie mark crusaders, and now this. The hard texture of the jeans encapsulate your legs, slightly sticking to you, reminding you that you had done a pretty awful job of drying off. Another loud sigh escapes you, as you take them off and repeat the whole process. Making your way up to your room, you hear soft chattering outside Bloom’s room. As you step towards it, the floorboards squeaking like scared mice, the voices stop at once. Probably better just to leave them alone. You step back, and enter your own room. It’s there you stay for the remaining few hours of the day, until Applejack knocks on your door. 
	“Anon, it’s dinner time!” Ugh. You are, just, not even interested in that right now. You answer her with a negative: 
	“I’m not hungry, can I skip out on this one?” She opens your door a bit, and leans her head in. 
	“Did you eat already or something?” You curse internally. You didn’t expect her to prod. Quickly, you try to come up with an answer to sate her: 
	“I’m just feeling kind of sick.” She nods, an ambiguous expression crossing her face. Then she looks at you with concern, and steps into your room, closing the door behind her. Stepping over to the trunk in front of your bed, then sitting down on it, she stares into you. 
	“Yeah, I heard you got into a bit of trouble today.” A look of horror flashes across your face before you return to a normal expression. Did she see? How much does she know? You blow air out through the side of your mouth, trying to play it cool: 
	“Yeah, I took a bit of a dive.” She laughs softly at this: 
	“I heard it was a bit worse than that.” 
	“I got a bit cut up here and there, but it wasn’t too bad. Even put –“You cut yourself off, realizing that you hadn’t gotten to put any peroxide on your cuts. She eyes you patiently, finally asking you “put what?” 
	“Peroxide. On my cuts,” you bluff, looking off to the side, then back to her, hoping she bought it. She maintains a neutral expression, not giving anything anyway, except for the fact that she was searching you. The only question was, what was she looking for? She continuous looking at you, the traces of concern growing more apparent. You look at her, then away, your focus flying around the room, continually returning to her, then escaping once more. Suddenly, she puts her hand on yours, drawing and anchoring your sight onto the touch. 
	“Anon, I heard what happened today.” Your hand tears itself away from her, your head snapping away, facing the wall opposite her This was it. Time to get kicked out of here. You were finally starting to relax, so naturally it was gonna be torn away from you. Of course, you think angrily to itself. Not like it could be any other way! Your hand reaches to your forehead, brushing your back, as you hiss: 
	“Fuck.” Another nervous brush, and you turn back to her, mouth pursed tightly, waiting for the executioner’s sentence. Instead, she’s looking at you curiously. You widen your eyes and open your hands in a “well, go on” gesture. She continues to look perplexed, looking off in thought, then returning to you: 
	“Anon, do you think I’m mad?” 
	“Yeah, I do.” 
	“What would I be mad about?” You can’t help but scoff. You’ve been in enough trouble to know not to admit anything. Instead, you just look at her, raising your brows. She tosses her hands up, still looking confused: “What, you think I’m gonna be mad that my sis and her friend helped clean you up? Or that she was dumb enough to walk in on you without knockin? From what I hear, you could barely move, and even though it does make me a tad uncomfortable, there ain’t nothing wrong with that first one. And as for the second thing, that was her own dang fault.” Now it’s your turn to look perplexed: 
	“Wait.” You look down, then around the room, trying to understand the lack of rejection. Then, back to her: “So you’re not mad at me?” 
	“Of course I’m not mad at you, Anon. Can’t figure out why you’d think I’d be.” You fall back onto the bed, still not grasping the situation at hand. This is way too positive to be real. You hear Applejack sigh, then feel her hand touch your shoulder. She says, in a very gentle voice: “Look, Anon, I can’t help but notice-“ 
	“AYYYYYJAAAAAAYY! AAAAANOOOOOON!”  comes the boom of a heavy, deep voice. Was that Big Mac? Can he actually speak that loudly? The interruption clearly irritates AJ, and she hops off the bed, opening the closed door, and shouts back 
	“JUST START WITHOUT US! WE’LL BE DOWN IN A MINUTE!” With an exasperated sigh, she sits back down on your bed. She looks at you with that tender gaze, and opens her mouth to speak, when 
	“OOOKK!” AJ stares into for a minute, fuming.  Then she presses to fingers to her forehead, breathing out deeply. Calmed down, she looks back to you. 
	“Anon, I can’t help but notice that you’re distancing yourself from the rest of us. And the more I think about it, the more I think that it ain’t because we just met.” You sit up and stare at her with a look of cautious suspicion, not knowing where this is going, but willing to indulge your pessimistic outlook. “I see you getting along with Apple Bloom just fine, and you’ve seemed pretty happy a couple of times, before you closed yourself off. I mean, stop me if I’m wrong, but I can’t help but think you’re trying to distance yourself from us.” You hold your hand up, stopping her.
	“Why are you telling me this?” She smiles quietly to herself, then responds: 
	“I guess we haven’t been around each other much, but one thing you’ll find out as you get to know me better is this: I can’t help but be honest. I see a problem, and I can’t help Anyway, I don’t know how much of all that is true; like I said, we haven’t been around each other long. But if it is, I just want you to know that you belong here.” Your head, having been staring at the ground, whips up to her in surprise, almost shock. She nods her head, answering your unspoken question: “You’re kin to us, Anon. And we’d like to be the same to you.” You take on an almost helpless look, completely unprepared for this outpouring of care. Once more, your hand brushes your hair back, as you struggle for words to say. You have none. She continues holding your hand, patiently waiting for your reply. A thought comes into your mind: 
	“I thought you were mad at me or something?” 
	“What? When?” 
	“I dunno, you seemed kind of pissed when I swore, and when me and Apple Bloom were hanging out yesterday.”  you add: “I guess you just seemed kind of cold?” Your answers and questions were coming out of your mouth the moment they came into your head. It probably wasn’t the most diplomatic approach, but you were kind of out of it right now. She scoffs, good-naturedly: 
	“In the first place, Anon, Ah’m not a big fan of swearing; most of us here aren’t. And Ah thought you were insulting our family, which is kind of a big deal to me. But Apple Bloom told me that it was all joking later, so it’s fine by me. And in the second place,”  she turns her head up in thought, before finishing: “Ah was just trying to get a feel for you, ah guess. Ah certainly didn’t mean to be unwelcoming or nothing. Sorry if I came across as cold. Ah really didn’t mean to.” You think about it for a minute. Maybe you were being a little hasty in assuming she didn’t like you. Throughout her speeches, she’d been sneaking glances at the door, the turns becoming more frequent as time passed. Not enough to convince you she wanted to leave, though naturally the thought entered your mind, but enough to show you her concern for missing dinner. You feel a bit guilty about keeping her here, and attempt to make it right. 
	“Sorry, I made you miss dinner,” your timid voice croaks. She responds with an odd laugh, combining amusement with exasperation. 
	“Anon, why do you keep thinking Ah’m gonna be mad at you or something? Ah chose to be here; it ain’t like you forced me to do nothing.” After a moment, you ask
	“You really mean that?” She turns a jovial smirk towards you,
	“Honey, my friends call me Honest Applejack. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Unsure of how to respond to her outreach, you gratefully squeeze her hand, trusting that to convey your feelings. Well, at least one of them. Your chest was filled with excitement, remnants of fear, a weary exhaustion, and gratefulness, the last being the only one you could identify out of the mess of emotions. She squeezed back. You had no idea what was going on with you, and why you were acting this way. You didn’t know if you wanted to know why. How could such a stressful two days still be so nice? In your confusion, you feel the pulling of your hand. 
	“Come on, Anon, let’s go eat.” A small part of you rebels at the invitation: 
	“Uh… is Apple Bloom there?” She frowns, then informs you.
	“Nah, she should be up in her room by now.” Then, after a pause: “Are you afraid of seeing her or something?” You respond with an apologetic half-smile: 
	“I’m just worried things are gonna be awkward.” 
	“Anon, they’re only gonna be awkward if you make them.” She looks to the side, mulling over a question in her head, before returning her steady gaze to you. “Ah can tell you this: that hasn’t been the first time that girl’s walked in on somebody without knocking.” Turning towards her little sister’s room, she gives the same exasperated chuckle as before: “Ah swear, that girl keeps her head in the clouds so much…” You feel somewhat better, though not entirely. Still, good enough to go downstairs, not overcome with social dread. You scoff at yourself, wondering how on earth you got to be such a huge wuss. Goodness knows you weren’t like this back at home, or at the various clubs you went to with your friends. Together, you and AJ enter the kitchen, occupied by a lone Granny Smith. She turns towards the both of you, a chastisement on her face. 
	“Now, since you two missed supper, yer gonna be cleaning up afterwards.” Eh. 
	“Sure, Granny, sounds good,” comes Applejack’s quiet answer, lacking a trace of surprise. Didn’t seem too bad to you. 
	“Yer plates are still out there, ‘long with the food.” 
	“Thanks Granny,”  you say, forcing yourself to speak up. At this point, you’re pretty exhausted from everything that happened today. You wander into the dining room, taking in all the fresh smells of the food you barely look at. Muscle memory drops some food across your plate after you fall into your seat. AJ takes her place at the end of the table, diagonal to your seat, as close as can be without sitting at your side. You notice her face light up as she looks at the… steak? Oh wow, steak, how did you miss that? Your attention comes back to your plate, which you had filled with leftover stuffing and some weird pudding thing. With you being in AJ’s line of sight, you know you can’t get away with sneaking it back into the trays and replacing it with steak. Instead, you go for the audacity. You loudly whistle, while looking around you in a mockery of an attempt to look innocent and not suspicious. You hold up your plate and scrape the untouched contents back into the bowls, before picking up a big piece of steak and putting it onto your plate. Seeing AJ’s incredulous stare in your peripherals, you turn towards her, maintaining the overdone pretense of innocence, and say: 
	“Oh hey, Applejack. What’s up?” She starts to frown, but doesn’t quite make it before she bursts out laughing. Apparently, you’re in the clear. You can’t help but join her in laughter, if only because hers is so contagious. She stops laughing, and assumes a serious face, looking like she’s gonna scold you. Her impending word is interrupted by giggling, and this time she gives up. 
	“So, tell me about yourself,” comes a sudden order, causing you to grunt questioningly. 
	“Hmm?” 
	“Well, you just got here, we’ve only heard a couple stories about you and your side of the family –cept my trip to them all those years ago- and I’ve been too busy to really hang out with you. Be a real shame if you were to go without us ever having a real chance to talk.” You think of reminding her that there’s still like, four and a half days before you have to go, but stop yourself. Instead, you indulge her, telling stories of your life. That one guy who hits on you whenever he gets drunk; that time a hobo brandished a piece of glass, sending you  and your girl speeding across town in terror, that time when you changed the homework assignments in the teacher’s notebook when there was a sub, more than halving the work your class had to do. She seems almost entranced by your life, the rebellion and danger so much greater than that in hers, which simultaneously scared and intrigued her. After you finish a story about some friends of yours stealing your principal’s tire (they didn’t have enough time to get the other three) she stops you, waving her hand in the air. 
	“Stop, stop.” 
	“What? I wasn’t even involved in that one. I mean, I was invited…” 
	“No, no, it’s not that. 
	“Ah mean, these stories are great, and Ah definitely wanna hear more, but I wanna know what your life’s like.” 
	“Yeah, and I’m telling you. Rough.” 
	“No, Ah mean like, what school do you go to? What’s your daily schedule like?” Her interest evident in her eyes, you have no problem telling her. So you detail the names of the places you frequent, and your schedule: 
	“I got school til 3, and I usually hang with friends for a couple hours. Then it’s home and homework, video games, and bed. Pretty boring, really.” 
	“You ever do anything with your parents?” she asks, the question almost feeling rehearsed. 
	“Uh, not really, why?” 
	“Well, Ah stayed with them for about a week, not too many years ago. Think you were off on vacation or something.” What? You don’t remember hearing about this. You tilt your head, and tell her so. 
	“Your parents never told you?” she picks at her food, “Or did you forget? Ah guess it wasn’t that big a deal.” Quickly, you cover: 
	“No, AJ, I definitely would have remembered something like this. I mean, they did mention some visitor while I was gone, but… wait, that was you?” 
	“Summer, 2012?” 
	“Yeah! I mean, I think so…” You pull for the memory, but all you have is a vague idea of it. Her visage grows slightly downcast, and she tells you 
	“Ya know, you don’t have to pretend for me. I’m not gonna be hurt if you don’t remember.” 
	“No, it’s not that! I just…” you pause, before deciding to finish the admission, “my parents and I don’t really talk. Like, ever?” Her expression quickly turns to shock and pity: 
	“Really?” 
	“Yeah… like, they’re around, I guess. But they stay in their rooms, I stay in mine. They’ve got their own stuff going on, and they don’t really want me… interfering, I guess. Not that I don’t feel the same way,” you add sharply. “We just do our own thing, and really only talk when I need a signature, or they need a family picture or whatever.”  Her hand is drawn over to yours once more, but this time you aren’t really interested in the connection. It’s fine. There’s not a problem here. In fact, since there isn’t a problem, you might as well change the subject. 
	“Why don’t we talk about something else?” you offer, insistence clear in your voice. She seems hesitant, still holding that concern you don’t need. “We’ve been talking about me the whole time, why not you? Tell me about what your life is like,” you ask, authentically interested. A choked grimace streaks across her face, followed by a moment of disappointment and defeat and then she moves on. She tells you all about her life here at the farm, and you listen eagerly, fascinated by a life so alien to you, and happy to get off the subject of your parents. She’s got a monstrous amount of chores in addition to school, but somehow finishes both, ending up with a working farm and pretty decent grades. You find yourself admiring the girl before you; after all, you doubt you’d be able to do all that. There’s a theme, almost a chorus, within her stories: she’s always supporting people. 
	Getting her sister out of trouble, helping people communicate with the socially stunted Big Mac, assisting Granny with her daily life, and that’s not counting what she does for her friends. 
	“Geez,” you mutter, unaware of saying it aloud. 
	“What?” she asks innocently, the mountain on her shoulders apparently beyond her notice. 
	“Just seems like you do a lot for everybody around you,” You hint at the weight, trying to find out exactly how aware she is of it. 
	“Ah just give people a hand, now and then,” she responds, with the conviction of a drug addict saying he can quit any time, and probably the same reasons. You wonder what would happen if she were to face the truth. You make a mental note of asking the other Apples what’s going on here, maybe get more perspectives, or get them to help her out more. Because, my goodness, the stories keep on coming. Long finished with dinner, AJ halts in yet another tale of a friend needing bailing out. 
	“Land sakes, it’s already dark out! Come on, Anon, we better start working these dishes.” The two of you get up, and set yourself to the work with unparalleled speed. AJ naturally works quickly, and you really don’t want to make her shoulder one more load, via a trash helper, so you match her the best you can. In just twenty five minutes, the food’s in Tupperware, the dishes cleaned or in the running dishwasher, and your hands dried, right as Bloom hops into the room announcing prayers. She glances at you and flushes a bit, but you’re too caught up in your dishwashing mindset to note it or the source. 
	“Sure thing,” you say to her, smiling. I’ll be up in a minute.” She looks up, noticing your casual demeanor, and smiles hopefully. She turns and hops of the stairs, looking back at your distracted face, grinning, then running up the stairs gleefully. 
	“Told ya it wouldn’t be weird,” comes a AJ’s voice. 
	“Why would it b-” Memory returns mid-sentence, worry consuming your expression.
	“Come on, relax,” the soothing girl instructs you, before reminding you that Bloom would forget about this as soon as you did.
	“Yeah, that was pretty awful though. Not sure I can just forget about it like that, though.” 
	“You know what ah mean. Quit acting like it’s a big deal, and you two’ll be close as peas in a pod,” She takes on a thoughtful look and touches her finger to her lip, “Wait, was that the expression?” You chuckle, not correcting her, and start to head up the stairs. No reason not to accept her help here. You’ll take her advice, just play it cool. 
	“She really likes you, ya know,” AJ says as she walks next to you, and ah can tell you like her too.” You smile in the dark hallway, and say, right before entering the bedroom: 
	“Yeah. I guess I do.”
	You join them in their prayers this time, somewhat remembering the words. You grin at Bloomers when she looks at you with a question on her face, and she returns the favor, warming your heart. After prayers, she leaps onto your back like last night, albeit with much more energy. Her bare heels grasp your waist, and she raises her right fist high into the air: 
	“Ride, my steed! Ride!” comes the squeaky voice above you. Oh, so that’s the game we’re playing? You grip her legs, making sure she’s steady, then leap up, causing her to yelp in surprise. You tilt your head back, and quietly shout: 
	“MEEAUUAAAUGH”, realizing halfway through that you have no clue what a horse sounds like. The girl bursts out laughing at your goblin-like shriek-grunt, and points to the doorway, bellowing 
	“My low was your fall! My high is this ride! Ride, Anon! Riiiiide!” And with that, you barrel out of the room, leaving three jaws wide open. Sprinting to some unknown place in the house, then another, you look innocently at her, and inform her of your predicament.
	“Ok, I think I got lost.” She laughs again, her body convulsing upon your upper back. She directs you back, and you tell her 
	“I got the same high-low as yours.” She crushes your neck in a mighty hug. “Ack. Bloom. Neck.” 
	“Aw, sorry Anon. Ah forgot how strong I was, bein’ a maghty knight an all.” You giggle, before entering her room, and tossing her onto her bed. You tuck her in, the biggest smile on her face. “Goodnight, my mighty steed,” comes the exuberant girl, no trace of sleepiness on her face. 
	“G’night, my brave knight,” you whisper, before silently exiting the room and entering yours, lost in sleep before you can even begin your nightly brooding.


Wednesday
	Your morning arrives on the sound of faint voices. Two female voices, by the sound of it. That’s really about as far as you can identify them for the moment. You’re a tad busy luxuriating in the warm apple-covers to fully focus. The voices grow in loudness, still garbled, but becoming recognizable. The lack of pauses and creaking tell you that the Apple sisters are speaking in the hallway outside your room. It actually sounds a bit tense, now that you really listen. A low grumble burrows its way through your chest; you’d rather be sleeping. The only method of escape is the pillow, and you cover your head in it, just like in the movies. Unfortunately, it’s pretty darn uncomfortable, and barely blocking out any sound, so you trash the plan. Covering your head in the blankets, you hope curling up in the cozy cocoon will distract you. It actually succeeds for a moment, before the door slams open. 
	“Fine!”
	“Where are you goin’? That ain’t your room!” Your door slams in response, and a particularly audible sighs apparates just behind it. Guess Apple Bloom forget where she lived, you think to yourself with a chuckle. Your mirthful comfort is then wrenched away by the collapsing of a young girl on your bead. Her arms splay outward, the right falling over your stomach. She sighs deeply, then does this cute little cry that kinda sounds like “gah!” Your bed invaded, you pull the covers down and scoot back to sit up against the bedpost. You’re careful to keep her arm off of your critical zone while you do so. 
	“What’s going on, Bloom?” you mutter, honestly having tried not to sound testy, but the interruption to your sleep putting too large a damper on you. She throws her head back onto the bed, looking at you through the tops of eyes: 
	“’Parently AJ don’t want me goin on no more adventures with you after what happened yesterday.” Another anguished harrumph, and she crosses her arms. “And after Scootaloo got all those fireworks…” 
	“Wait, what?” Her eyes drift lazily back to you: 
	“Oh, nothing. Ain’t like it’s gonna happen anymore.” You silently thank AJ for saving you from what was certain to be your doom, and bring your hand over to her forehead. Softly brushing her hair to the side, you tell her 
	“It’ll be alright, Bloom. I’m sure we’ll find something else to do.” 
	“I think ah’d like that,” she moans sleepily, pushing her face into your caressing hand. You move down a bit, and turn away from her, the heavy desire for sleep barely overcoming your desire to stroke your cousin’s cheek. A pouty hmph begs you to reconsider, but now you’re all curled up on your side; ‘sorry, love, but my course is set’, you think to yourself. But then you find her arms covering you as she sidles up to your back. Drawing close, she rests her head on your back, and sighs contentedly. You think about moving, or pushing her off or something, but you’re still on the train to sleeptown. And when you’re as tired as you are, there just aren’t any stops. You drift off to sleep again, comfortable in the embrace of your Apple Bloom. Three loud knocks jerk you awake, at some later time. 
	“Hey, Anon!”  Sounds like AJ. You answer her groggily, 
	“sup?” 
	“Yuh got Bloom in there?” You turn towards the angel snoring softly on your bed. 
	“Sure looks like it.” The littlest Apple’s eyes blink awake, and she yawns loudly. Her eyes clench tightly, and her hands ball into fists as she raises them above her head, in something similar to victory pose. You notice those teeny tiny little shorts she’s got on, crawling way up her thighs. And… hold on a minute, where did she get your WSU T-shirt? Before you can continue your inquest, half-lidded eyes grab your attention, and the following smile leaves you breathless. It’s sweet and small, like her, but most importantly, it’s for you. You walk up to your bed and sit beside her, her eyes following you all the way. 
	“Tell her to get up soon! We’re going to the pool in a bit!” Those precious eyes look towards the door, then back up at you. You fall into those great amber pools, and tell her in a quiet voice, almost a whisper: 
	“You gotta get up soon, sweetheart. We’re going to the pool in a bit.” Her white teeth shine as she pulls back soft lips in a smile, your subtle mockery of her sister not going unnoticed. ”Alright, we’ll be out in a moment!” You sidle up closer to her, stroking her hair once more, while her gaze continues to hold onto you. You audibly sigh in happiness, a smile finishing it off, her expression meeting yours. Remembering your last cuddle-session, you recall the last girl to hold you closely. You have an idea, remembering a little bit of fun you had during that day. You lean in close, very close to her face, just enough to make her smile fade into an expression of bated expectation. Moving still closer, you veer off to the side of her face, lips almost touching her earlobe. 
	“Hey, Apple Bloom?”  your breathy voice comes.
	“W-what?” 
	“Gimme my shirt back.” A pause separates your gleeful teasing and being pushed off the bed. You laugh as you hit the ground, successfully getting her. She sticks out her tongue at you, then thoughtfully looks up. You see Scoots’ wicked grin again, this time covering your angel’s face. Oh boy. 
	“Want your shirt back, huh?” Your confidence shows its absence in your hesitant affirmation. 
	“Fine then. Here y’go” And with one quick motion, she strips off the shirt and tosses it at you. Ok, that’s a pretty tiny bra. She laughs at your horrified expression and rose-red cheeks. You toss your shirt back to her, pleading that she put it back on as she bounces up and down your bed, laughing. You turn toward her, asking again in a more seriously tone. 
	“Please.” She sees that her joke has gone a little too far, and pulls your shirt down over herself again. 
	“Sorry,” she says quietly. 
	“It’s alright,” you assure her, tousling her hair, trying to be lighthearted about the whole thing. She smiles gratefully, and heads out of your room. With a deep sigh, you sit down on your bed. Ok, maybe don’t tease your probably crushing cousin. You like Apple Bloom; a whole lot. But that’s not a road you’re planning on going down. You shake your head to the side, trying to get the whole of you in agreement. I don’t know, there was just something about her. This kind of spark, or light that filled you up. But the strange thing was, it wasn’t implicitly sexual. There was definitely some attraction you were feeling, but it wasn’t the rule. You stumbled for the words to express just what was going on. They just weren’t there. The only certainty you had was that you loved Bloom, and that your love was more than desire. You hop off your bed and root through your drawers, ready for a change of subject. All this introspection and stuff was nice, but only for a little while. You were still a guy; that stuff gets old, and when it does, it does. You find your swimshorts and head out the door, holding them over your shoulder. You hop down the stairs, and find yourself at the land of pancakes and waffles. You could get used to this. The three elder Apples are there, and you take a seat next to AJ. She looks at you, her face radiant as usual. 
	“Ah hope Apple Bloom didn’t give you too much trouble.” 
	“Eh, not really. 
	“She just kinda fell asleep on my bed, and I was never really awake until you knocked.” She purses her lips, her focus leaving you for half a moment: 
	“Wonder why she didn’t just come out?” Your expression follows suit, and you nod your head at the conundrum. Coming up with two explanations, you tell her:
	“I think I know why.” More than two eager eyes are on you now, having stayed since the mention of sleeping on your bed. “She probably stayed because she didn’t want to admit defeat.” The family all nods their heads, obviously familiar with Bloom’s headstrong demeanor.
	 “But there is another reason, that definitely oughtn’t be overlooked: She very well may have stayed, because she found herself in the room of THE COOLEST COUSIN IN THE WORLD!” At the final clause, you stand up, stick your chest out and point your thumb at yourself. Big Mac appears untouched by your flourish, but you’ve got the ladies in the room giggling. And in the end, the ladies are really the ones you perform for anyway. You sit down to Applejack saying:
	“Well, that’s definitely a possibility.” Apple Bloom comes down the stairs soon after, and sits to your side. The four of you gobble up what remains of that glorious breakfast, and discuss the day’s plans. There’s a community swimming pool over in Applejack’s friend’s neighborhood -apparently her name is Twilight?-  and the three young’un’s  –Granny’s words, not yours- are gonna meet her down there in about an hour. Sounds good to you. 
	“That sound good to you?”
	“Yeah, sounds good to me.” But it didn’t sound good to Apple Bloom. 
	“Can’t ah invite my friends?” Given an affirmation, she brought up her phone and made the requests. And so you, Big Mac, and Bloomers all lounge about on the couch, waiting for the time to come around and friends to respond. AJ was in what young Bloomers referred to as her crazy-planning-mode, for which Big Mac gave his trademark 
	“Eeyup.” What she was actually planning was unclear, though that may have been your lack of investigation of such as much as it may have been needless planning. A buzzing phone informed the owner of the squeakiest voice around that only Scootaloo could come, which was translated to you through said medium. And with that fifteen extra minutes of picking her up, the timeslots were filled. You raced your cousin to the family van, sighed as the two elder siblings took FOREVEEEEER –Bloom’s emphasis, not yours- and you were off.
	You stare blankly out the back window, at the dirt road slowly leaving you. The signs fly past, occasionally accompanied by a lone farmhouse. Then, after one particularly long stretch of muted brown, houses erupt from the sides of the window like beavers from their houses. Thick clusters of houses fill the windows, the conditions of each deteriorating further from those they replace. Chipped paint, then faded, then bleached and cracked; clear lawns, uncut lawns, then lawns filled with debris. To your horror, it is at what appears to be the crux of this broken portion of the city that the fading streets are halted. You’re a sitting duck, in the heart of dilapidation. Thankfully, a shouting girl signals the arrival of the package, and you’re soon sitting next to an orange-skinned imp, once more watching the wasteland leave. You turn from it, not wanting to think about those conditions, and face the beaming girl next to you. Wait… was she staring at you this whole time? Her eyes are fixed firmly on you, blinking thrown to the wind. 
	“Uh… hey Scoots.” Barely missing a beat, she looks up at you, giving you a smirk you’d find on a 90’s skateboarder.
	“Sup?”
	“Oh, y’know. Getting ready for a pool adventure. Hoping not to get injured on this one.” Bloom looks back from the front seat, frowning at the reference. Scoots actually takes on a somber expression, and meekly apologizes. Definitely not the kind of thing you’d expect from her. But the dissonance corrects itself momentarily, and she’s back to her chipper, punky self. Is punky even a word? She’s wearing a big, baggy hoody, and you can’t actually see any pants down there, so you’re gonna assume she’s in her suit underneath. On her head is a bandanna, and now… oh boy. She pulls out an eyepatch and grips it tightly. 
	“Bloom,” she says in a low, resonant voice. Bloom turns back and meets Scoots’ serious look. She shakes her head slowly, and returns her view to the front. Scoots nods her head with the grim acceptance of a soldier, and tucks the eyepatch back into her pocket. Looks like whatever piratey business they were up to was pushed back. 
	“What?” comes the tomboyish voice, with the petulant rebelliousness of a grade-schooler in trouble, when she finds you staring at her.
	“Nothing,” you respond, not realizing you’d been staring at her. She turns to the side, looking out the window. The van takes a hard right, and she falls into you while you fall into the window. Yeah, she definitely got the better deal there. You rub your hurt head, and as the pain fades, you notice a pressure against your side that wasn’t there before. Scootaloo’s right up against you, apparently having forgot to recover after the slide. You scoot a bit to the right, and she continues to sink into you, before jolting up, then back to her original position. No, a little further from you than before. 
	The van jerks to a stop, bringing your thoughts of Scootaloo to the same conclusion. You hop out of the van, and stretch your limbs, before grabbing your bag of clothes and heading off. Well, trying to head off. All but one small piece of your shirt starts forward, the stationary portion yanking you back. Turning around, you find that Scoots grabbed the back of your shirt. 
	“Wait up a second.”
	“Uh, ok.” Big Mac lumbers over to the lawn chair-folding-lounging thing and lounges, the sun fully on him. AJ passes out bags, and leads the way to the gates, propped open by a waving Twilight.
	“We’ll be there in a sec!” Bloom shouts to AJ, who nods her head and disappears into a conversion with Twilight. You turn to her in confusion. She looks you deep in the eye, and pulls a tiny little pirate hat out of her bag. There’s even a little stretchy black thing to put under your chin, to keep it on your head. 
	“Alright Anon, we’re down a member. So we need you to complete the Cutie Mark Pirates.” Scoots nods, more serious than you’d ever seen here. HELL FUCKING YES, you think. 
	“Um… Are you sure?” you say.
	“Hell, uh, I mean, heck yeah!” Scoots shouts, altering her words when she sees Bloom’s look. “You’re tall, your clothes are already pretty ragged-
	“Hey!”
	“And you’re super rad! So you gotta do this!” 
	“Agreed!” your cousin agrees, both girls now looking up at you expectantly. You try really hard not to look super hyped to be a pirate. You succeed, managing to look somewhat suspicious and hesitant, murmuring a soft 
“fine.” A grin breaks out as you pull it over your head, and accept the spare eyepatch brought by Scoots. 
	“Yeah, you know you love it,” comes the suddenly sultry voice of Scoots. 
	“So what if I do? Pirates as super friggin’ rad.” Apple Bloom brandishes a small plastic sword, pointing it towards the pool.
	“And so are we! The CUTIE!” Scoots follows, the call clearly meant to have three-parts: 
	“MARK!” Not missing a beat, you take a step forward, and bellow with every inch of breath: 
	“PIIIIIIRRRRAAAAAAAAAATES!” Yeah, you’re a cool dude. You follow Bloomers as she leads the charge… in no particular direction. She runs towards her sister, who recoils in horror at the furious charge, Twilight laughing the whole time. Then you change directions, and chase a seagull. Then it’s to her sister again, a mighty AVAST MATEY on her lips, followed by a YE BE WALKING THE PLANK from Scoots. AJ laughs as she’s cornered by the three of you, the two true members having a fake-wooden swords, and you having to make do with crossing your arms to look badass.
	“Scoots!” comes Bloomer’s stage whisper.
	“What?” comes the response, of the same volume.
	“We forgot to get Anon his sword!”
	“Well, whatta we do now?” AJ lends you a perplexed expression, which you immediately return. 
	“Well, we better go get it!” Then, back to her loud cry, “TO THE ARMORY!” and the three of you take off towards the van. In a moment, you’re better armed, and AJ’s back with Twilight, albeit continually glancing at the trio. “Back to AJ,” says Apple Bloom, but you interrupt the suspiciously normal pace by leaping up on the chain link fence and shouting:
	“AVAST, YE LANLUBBAR!” You hoist your arm over the fence and point the tip of your cutlass at AJ, who looks absolutely shocked”HEAVE TO, AND PREPARE TO BE BOARDED!” You ignore her and her purple friend’s now blushing faces, forgetting the double meaning, and leap back down. 
	You rejoin your crew, and pursue the eldest Apple once more. Round the pool you go, with Scoots dropping off, hoping to flank her. You do the same, but AJ’s eyes stay on you. She turns to and fro from you and Bloom, giggling at the pursuit, and then stops The white-faced realization tells you what she’s thinking: where’s the third? The girl in question erupts from behind a beached whale’s chair, grabbing her. You and Bloom set upon her at once, but you only place a hand on her back. The full bodied hugs coming from the two other girls might be a bit weird, coming from you. You gently push her towards the diving board, the two hugging girls sidling along with her; her movements are pretty heavily restricted, but at least she ain’t escaping. Isn’t. Geez, the little Apple’s already rubbing off on you. You notice the beaming face of Twilight’s friend, overjoyed to see her friend being marched to her doom. You right-face, now looking directly at her, and point your sword at her 
	“YARRRR!” . Man, your throat’s starting to hurt from this. . Twilight yelps with terror, then covers herself in Applejack’s towel, completely hidden. . You turn back to Applejack, who’s now at the diving board. . Little eeps and ows at the poking plastic swords send her onto it, after which she executes a perfect cannonball. “Awesome!”  Bloom says, forgetting her piratsona and leaps up onto the board. She takes off, bouncing mightily before being flung into the air and mimicking the glorious splash of her elder sister. You try to warn her, but it’s too late. Your little cousin, wrapped in a T-shirt and overalls, surfaces from the deeps, gulping in a great snatch of air. Realizing her sartorial predicament, she cries out: 
	“Consarnit!”
	All four members of your party laugh out loud, the wet hair covering the girl’s face making her pout all the more hilarious. You turn back to Scoots, and she smiles, nodding her head. You both grab your clothing bags and head towards the lockers. You step into yours, and notice Scoots not quit leaving the entryway, almost peeking around the corner at you. Her eyes notice yours, and she scrambles away like a frightened rabbit. Geez. You sigh with forced exasperation. Truthfully, you didn’t mind the interest, but something was telling you that you shouldn’t enjoy it. You peel off your clothes in an empty stall, and slip into your rad trunks. Stepping out before the mirror, you grimace at your unimpressive body. You weren’t fat or weirdly tall or anything; you weren’t repellant. But you didn’t really have muscles –well, you did under good lighting and while flexing-, nor were you particularly tan. It really could have been anyone standing in that mirror before you. If anything, it helped you disappear in the crowds, and being unidentified was particularly helpful whenever you made trouble. Sighing, you stepped out of the bathrooms and into the sun. Bloom was nowhere to be seen, and AJ and Twilight were sitting on some towels talking to each other. Might as well go introduce yourself. Probably made a real good impression with that pirate thing. You walk over there and sit down by the both of them. 
	“Hey.” The purple haired girl looked up at you with a delighted, up-turned crescent. 
	“Hello Mr. Anon. I’m Twilight.” She holds out her hand, looking as if she were thrilled to meet you. You reach out and mirror the greeting, her hand shaking yours like a can of spray paint. “I’m thrilled to meet you. Applejack’s been telling me stories about you.”
	“Good ones, I hope?” A whimsical chuckle brings the tender voice of your second favorite cousin to the conversation:
	“’Course they are. You haven’t given me any bad ones.” You make a solemn face, placing your left hand on your heart and right hand in the air, as if swearing a pledge.
	“I shall endeavor not to,” you say in the most posh of voices. AJ chuckles, and looks over to her friend:
	“I think we should have invited Rarity over. She’d love him.” Twilight shares her laughter and sentiment. The name rings within your head, sounding somewhat familiar. You’d heard it here… Oh, right! 
	“That’s Sweetie’s older sister, right? She mentioned her yesterday.”
	“That’s right. But I think she’s busy with Sweetie today, though I can’t for the life of me remember what.” The previous wish returns to you, and you decide to pursue it, only partially as a means to catch a compliment.
	“So, why would she love me? I haven’t really done anything.” AJ turns to you
	“Sugarcube, you could do anything, and so long as you use that posh accent, she’d love ya.” Twilight pushes her in defence of the absent friend. “Alright, Alright, that was a tad mean. But you’re from the city, and that’s what she’s in love with, ‘long with everything in it. Ergo, she’ll love you.” Twilight chimes in: 
	“And from these stories AJ is telling me, you sound like you know the city.” You remember the stories you told AJ last night about your life in the city. You do have some pretty good stories, you think to yourself, before Twilight’s voice returns: “And she’s definitely one for a bad boy.”
	“Wh-what?” Who told her you were a bad boy? Who told anybody that? 
	Applejack joins in Twilight’s mischievous grin: “Not gonna lie, Anon, you’re really rockin’ that pirate hat and eyepatch.” Ah. “Speakin’ a which, can you stand up a sec?” 
	“Uh, sure?” You stand up, wondering what she wants, while she rears back and shoves you into the pool behind you. You suck in a puff of air right before you go under, feeling the coolness of the pool. However, the pleasant embrace is somewhat marred by the panic of its surprise. You yell and flail your arms, finding yourself far more horizontal than you had expected to be at this point. Swimming back to the top and wiping the hair from your eyes, you ask her
	“What the heck was that for!?”
	“For stabbin’ me with that plastic sword, ya jerk!”
	“I was a pirate! That’s what pirates do!”
	“An’ I’m a girl that pushes pirates in the pool! Go on and guess what I do!” You pout and climb out, sitting down on the towel near AJ. “Aw, come on, yer getting my towel soaked.” You stick your tongue out, and fall onto her lap. The wet slap of your skin on her previously dry lap is louder than you predicted, and the girl yelps, trying to push you off. Behind you, you can hear the sounds of two young girls just yukking it up. You get up off the flailing girl to see the convulsing forms of two girls. 
	Your interest expands as you take in the sight. Two girls, one light-skinned and one noticeably darker, stand up to their waists in community water. Bloom’s got herself in a bright red two piece, the vibrant color flickering in the rippling waves. The bottom is submerged, surfaces, then is submerged again, the waves in the pool pushing up and down her fair skin. She’s got a chest, not a big one, but noticeable enough, that fits perfectly on her small proportions. You suppose you knew that already, but this time you weren’t tearing yourself away from the sight. The darker girl, her skin close to orange, is beside Bloom, wet purple hair framing her glowing face. Her swimsuit matches the size of Bloom’s, showing off an amount of skin you definitely aren’t complaining about. Her chest is a little smaller than Bloom’s, but again, it fits her small body, and lends you a fair share of tantalization. The purple material almost looks ruffled, holding an odd-looking texture, as compared to the simplicity of Bloom’s. After cocking you head in fascination at Scoot’s chest, you pull your focus away, with some difficulty. Boobs? I wasn’t looking at nobody’s boobs! That’s slander, Mr. Jameson! Freed from her hypnotic chest, you’re ensnared with her tummy, and the slim arms that frame it. And once more, you rip your view away from her. You turn towards the older girls sitting beside you, and notice their respective suits. 
	Now geared towards girls, your sight settles immediately on that of your cousin and her friend, pulling in like a ship in the grasp of the leviathan. A orange one-piece, long and sleek like a creamsicle, wraps AJ’s body. The type of suit isn’t your favorite, but the body encompassed is too curvy to be brought low in your eyes: the faint muscles in her arms and stomach, present enough to look fit without grotesque, awaken you to a beauty you’d never noticed before: the /fit/ girl. She lounges back, the curves of her body accentuated in the soft motion, made all the more visible by the wetness you brought to her. Twilight’s pale skin bursts forth from her own purple two-piece, a far deeper hue than Scoots’. She’s got a bit of chub to her, but like the muscles of AJ, it isn’t enough to spoil. The slight curve of her stomach flows seamlessly into the curves of her larger breasts, which declare themselves the winner among your party. Her skin is almost vampiric in its glow, concerns of burning causing you worry and her to adopt a towel-shield against the belligerent sun. It might be a rough day, you think to yourself trying to keep your eyes off the beauties surrounding you, the two younger ones having joined the circle. It’s going to be a rough day, you think to yourself, as the loveliest of Apples sits down on your side and rests her head in your lap. She faces up, grinning widely at you, whose head perfectly shields her from the glaring sunlight. You sigh, as is your prerogative, and surrender to the enjoyment of the day. No use worrying on pool day. 
	You bend over, facing down at the cute girl in your lap, still blissfully staring up with half-lidded eyes. Your hands, free from any order, move to the top of her head and begin stroking her thick hair, auburn in your shadow. It parts between your fingers, flowing through like sand. You run into several tangles, at which point you stop and gently brush and pull until they come apart. She closes her eyes and takes your loving fingers sifting through the crimson sea. Leaving your hands to their autopilot, you turn up to the girls around you. AJ and Twi were discussing some weird friend of theirs, Discord or something, who AJ seems to disapprove of. Scootaloo, however, is staring solidly at you and Bloom, the intense look pretty unwelcome. But you feel accommodating, and you don’t want anybody being unhappy today, especially not your fellow CMC. Even if you’re only a tertiary member, you still have a duty, don’t you? You push Bloom a little to your right, down for her, which she takes as a signal to move there. She adjusts herself so her head no falls on your right thigh, leaving your lap half-empty. You look up to the now curious-faced Scoots and pat your left thigh. She looks at you, resistance showing in her face and eagerness everywhere but. You raise your eyebrows, your face reading “you coming or what?” and she blows a forced sigh to her left, before crawling towards you. She carefully lies down, mirroring Bloom. The wet hair on your inner thigh makes you jump, startling both girls. Seeing no problems, they lie back down, two heads now resting before you. 
	This time you intentionally put your hands to work, one on each girl in symmetrical movements. First, you place your hands on each outer cheek, tracing circles around it, widening it to include the ear, circling that, then making figure eights involving circles of the ear and the cheek. In a combination of brushing and caressing, you trace the edges of their ear, moving the hair away and thereby opening the ear to the light. You continue tracing the motion, your hands touching the outer parts of the ear during your soft, loving circles. Keeping the curving theme to your motions, you bring your palms to their foreheads, brushing them outwards, rotating your hands as you do it. At the part of their foreheads closest to you, the pinkie side of your hand is touching them, and you roll it as you bring it the the part furthest from you, going from your palm to the thumb-side, then back again. Your fingers move down, disappearing into their hair as you brush it, then returning at the end of the cycle. With the proximity of their heads to your chest, you aren’t given much room to work on the cheek closest to such, but you settle for the basic windshield wiper motion across them with your fingers. Your light touch presses down enough to be felt, but not harder than you need to feel the soft bump of a close-by cheek bone. Finishing there, you pull your hands apart, moving to their jawline, and trace it back to the outer ear. Instead of moving back to the original formula, you move even further out, down to their necks. You trace these from front to back, your hands touching their necks and the bottom of their jaws in a back-and-forth motion. Not wanting to spend too much time on their necks, your hands return to their original position and begin repeating themselves. Somewhere along the line, both heads, as if aware of the symmetry involved, swiveling slightly towards your chest, cutting off your caressing on that side of their face, but opening up more of the other side to stroke. Once you’ve gone through the whole twice, you set your hands on auto-pilot, combining muscle memory and a small amount of deviation to change direction or area, so as to keep the experience from becoming predictable or monotonous. You take their soft coos and quiet moans as a sign of success, and look up to the older girls. 
	They’re both staring at your dexterous hands, and the complicated performance before them. Twilight gapes, then meets your inquisitive eyes: 
	“How do you do that?” You’re somewhat aware of your ability, but not of its shock-value. You shrug, and say:
	“Practice.” The girls turn to look at each other, then back at you, expecting you to go on. “Um… there was this girl I used to date. She lied on my lap a lot, I guess?" You scratch the back of your head, not really thrilled to bring up those memories. “Anyway, I started off brushing her hair, and that got old, so I brushed her forehead, and then I just kept going. She never complained, and kept laying in my lap, so it just kinda became a thing.” Twilight bites her lip, and sputters out: 
	“I see. You’ll- You’ll definitely have to demonstrate on me sometime. F-For science.” AJ is silent. Scoots and Bloom are staring up at you, when the latter’s cute little voice breaks the stillness: 
	“So what happened to her?” You heavy heart, already on the verge, sinks into your stomach.
	“We, uh… We broke up.” You turn to the side, grimacing. Sensing that you didn’t want to talk about this, AJ changes the conversation, asking you to share some more stories about your home. You’re in the middle of trying to bring up some memories while staving away the ones involving her, when your attention is stolen. Both girls have brought one hand each to your cheeks, cupping it while softly staring at you. Concerned looks hold their pretty faces, the unhappy expressions setting inside you a burning urge to cheer them up. You recognize the silly recursiveness, but shrug it off: you don’t want to see these girls hurt, even if it’s out of empathy for you. Quickly, you dredge up the most outrageous stories from home, and begin to spin tales. Your thief friend, your stupid but hilarious posse, your less painful exes stretch are brought into the air. You paint a fascinating mural in the minds of the captured girls in front of you, the work of storytelling helping to push the girl from your mind. Looking at your audience, you notice that only Scootaloo fails to be captivated by your troubles; she’s still giving you that concerned look from before. Despite the other girls laughing at the antics of your pencil-lobbing anarchist friend, you feel a little like you’ve failed. You finish with a grand gesture:
	“And the whole cake came down on the teacher!” to the cheers of every girl but Scoots, who merely chuckles.
	“Ok, yeah, Rarity would definitely love you,” giggles Twilight. You smile at her, slightly cheered up, though the pitying expression of Scoots is still throwing you off a bit. 
	“Glad to hear it,” you respond with a mostly genuine smile. You pat the heads of the younger girls and shift your legs, indicating your desire to get up. They’re a bit sore from them sitting on you, and your body stutters while trying to get up. You stretch out, a groan coming from you. 
	“You okay there, sugarcube?”  comes Applejack’s kind concern.
	“Yeah, I’m fine. Legs are still a bit worn, and keeping them in one position for that long got them a bit sore.” You turn towards the pool, and jump in, wanting to rid yourself of the hot rays on your drying skin, as well as the mysterious of the purple-haired girl. The cool water brings you in, holding you in a chilling embrace. You bring out your arms and legs, feeling the undulating blue on each limb. You tilt your head back blissfully, embracing that particular freedom only water can bring. Pushing with your arms, you send yourself back to the side of the pool, and check the area in front of you. A clear path offers its invitation, and you accept, contracting your feet against the wall and pushing off. You rocket through the water, your arms thrusting out to carve the waves, keeping up your momentum. You turn your body to the right and left as you raise each hand to cut into the water and push it back. In no time at all, you’ve found the other end, reaching out and grabbing it with your left hand. The heat of the grainy stone breaks through the watery chill upon your hand. You spin yourself around and repeat the process, going for more speed this time. You make it and spin around, this time pressing your back against the smooth underwater tile. Pushing yourself up a bit, your raise your arms and lie them on the stone border, elbows on the tile and hands hanging down into the water. You try to remove a bit of the water in your ears with your pinkie, and fail to comprehend the shout of a familiar, squeaking voice. Two tiny bodies fly into the sky to your right, sinking quickly in the blue sky into the water below. Thunderous, foamy waves erupt from their points of entry, your arm not raised in time to protect your face from the incoming splash. You wipe your face off and see two heads floating towards you, both cloaked in hair. Suddenly they rise, arms straight forward in a zombie-like shamble. From beneath their wet helmets, you hear them moan:
	“Anoooooon…” Oh no! You let loose a manly shriek, and dive beneath the water, making a speedy underwater exit. Rising up on the far side of the pool, you peel back the damp curtain of hair and turn back. They’ve continued their pursuit, now slowly doggy-pedaling towards you. They’ve opened little slices of their hair, which you assume they can see out of. You start walking away, fighting against the resistance of the water. You’re slightly slower than them, as you can tell by them gaining on you. They continue to moan, pressing their advantage; you respond with the appropriate screaming. Scoots, ducks under water, then launches upward towards you. You barely sidestep her dive, but now Bloom’s even closer! You start hopping away, hoping the ridiculous maneuver will bring you more speed. It does, and you gain a bit of distance on your two pursuers. But then:
	“Anooooooooon…”
	a spooky voice groans from behind you. Applejack stands before you, her grasping hands inches away from you. 
	“Aaaaaaaaaaaaahh!” you shout, this time for real. Where did she even come from? You try to pull off the very rare and very difficult hyperleft acrobatic spinning deflective leap. You fail, and fall in the water. The farmer girl sets upon you, soon joined by four smaller hands clinging to you. “Nooooo…” you gasp, dramatically thrusting one hand into the air, “this can’t be the end… I’m… too hot…” A red-haired zombie giggles while clutching your torso. The purple-haired zombie climbs onto your shoulders and snarls in a particularly villainous voice: 
	”Oh, but this isn’t the end, Anon. This is merely the beginning! Of your UNDEATH! WA HA HA HA HA!” To finish her evil cackle, she chomps on your shoulder. You find yourself once more screaming, not expecting anyone’s teeth to come into contact with you today. Your partly surprised, partly pained scream concludes in bubbles as you sink beneath the water, the sudden submersion causing Scoots to release you. Recalling the non-participating party, you rise slowly out of the water, moaning with them. You stick your arms forward, and your new zombie pals joining you. Then, directing your arms Twilight-ward, the four of your lurch forward, this time moaning her name. The laughter on her fades evaporates the instant she finds herself a player, rather than a spectator. You clamber out of the pool, a cry for brains oozing from your slack lips. She freaks and runs, earning her a reprimand from the life-guard, in his one moment of waking. She nods her head and apologizes, her shame distracting her from the very real zombie threat. It’s only when your arms circle her that she remembers her predicament, and by then she’s wrapped up in a zombie cocoon. 
	“no no no no please don’t turn me into a zombie,” she giggles nervously, as three of your party turn her into a zombie. You decide to refrain from biting her, as you often keep yourself from biting people who were practically strangers, and also cute girls. They burst out laughing, and you join them, before directing them to the hot tub portion of the pool. It’s pretty big, and square, measuring about 8ft by 8ft. They sink into the hot water, groaning in appreciation of the hot clutch. Giving them a minute, you introduce them to your favorite childhood game: Mummy in the Graveyard. One person in the mummy, and they have to close their eyes and they have to catch somebody, who would then become a mummy. They start in the center, and can move everywhere. And everybody has to keep at least one arm and one leg in the hot tub; if they leave, they’re the mummy.
	“Why’s their a mummy in a graveyard?” Bloom chirps.
	“Yeah, that sounds dumb. It should be a crypt,” Scoots chirps.
	“Shut up,” you say. 
	“It sounds pretty easy to catch someone though,” comments AJ. 
	“Well, if somebody’s splashing around, yeah. But if you’re quiet, and curl up, or if people group up, if can get pretty hard. But you’re right, games don’t last too long, although I like that. Makes it less of a pain if you’re the mummy, and there’s more rotation, so everyone can get a chance.”
	They all agree that it sounds awesome and that you are awesome for suggesting it. Well, that’s what you choose to hear. It may have just been that first one. Anyway, you immediately nominate Twilight, as she was the most recent to be caught. Everyone agrees but her, who turns to her disloyal friends, stammering 
	“What? Wait!” But it’s too late; she’s standing in the middle, and the rest of you line the walls. 
	“Alright, close your eyes and count to ten.” She does so, and the four of you start swirling around her, not wanting to be caught in the position last seen. Bloom splashes her way over to a silently protesting AJ, thinking to stick with her. Twilight turns toward the noise, and you’re behind her. Excellent. >Suddenly, she spins around and leaps towards you. What??? Such advanced tactics! You manage to scoot backwards, making no more noise than she does with her leap. Her fingers come within inches of you, but no contact. Yessss. But you’re not out yet. Quickly, you start scooting to the side when-
	”Awww, Anon got got!” your cute cousin squeals, clapping her hands in delight. Instinctively, you defend yourself.
	No, she didn’t!” But after the first word, Twilight once more darts in the direction of your voice, her soft hand colliding with your shoulder. She opens her eyes with joy, asking
	”Does that count?” No! Uh. Darn it.
	“Yeah, yeah, it counts. But you’re not supposed to help the mummy!” you add, glaring at Bloom. 
	“Sorry! I didn’t mean to!” She shouts, only meaning the second sentence. You set yourself up in the middle, close your eyes, and count to 10. Alright, game on. You stay in the middle, listening for the sounds of motion. A quiet splash to your left sounds you dashing, hands dexterously flailing. You touch nothing, but hear a low giggle to your left. You continue your hunt, feinting right then bolting left. Ha! You open your eyes to see your right hand threatening to cover AJ’s left breast. You pull it back post-haste, blushing along with her. 
	“Well, guess Ah’m up then.” She walks to the center, and begins counting. Quickly, you move to the spot where you started. After all, it was the perfect spot. To your right, a sneaky Scootaloo appears, and climbs onto you. Her legs and arms are wrapped tightly around your torso, her head on your shoulder, looking towards the center. She whispers to you:
	“Ok, you’re the pro here. You gotta protect me.” Twilight hits zero, and starts moving forward, waving her hands around. You briefly consider pushing Scoots to the front of you and offering her as a sacrifice. Nah, that’d be kind of mean. JUST KIDDING HERE WE GO. You hoist her up, arms crossed over her stomach, and shout loudly:
	“Mummy, I offer you this virgin sacrifice! Let your hunger be sated!” Scoots, meanwhile is caught between trying to punch your head and escape. She throws you off balance, falling off you. You’re wide open. Twilight lunges forward, grabbing you and bringing you both down into the water. You get up, the Apple sister pointing and laughing at you. Scoots sticks her tongue out at you and jeers:
	“It’s your own fault, you jerk!” You chuckle self-deprecatingly, and agree with her. Standing in the middle, you close your eyes, and count to ten. The world is black before you, a white frenzy of static crossing through the darkness. You tune into your sense of hearing, trying to ignore the splashing of the handful of other pool-guests. Swishing to your right. You jump there, both hands flailing wildly. Nothing. You pull back, and stand where you are for a second. You aren’t searching this time. If you stay on one side of the pool for a bit, they should group up near the opposite end. You count to three in your mind, then twirl around like a murderous ballerina, and tear through the water to the other side. Before you get there, you make a swift leap to your 2’o’clock. After all, they would be trying to escape, and this is about where they’d be. You stretch your arms, trying to cover as much space as possible and… Bingo. A happy yelp tells you that you’d grabbed Bloom before your eyes do. She hops over to the middle and starts the initiation ritual. You turn towards the close-by Scootaloo and chant, just loud enough for her to hear,:
	“Sac-ri-fice. Sac-ri-fice. Sac-ri-fice!” She shakes her fist at you somehow managing to glare while looking like she’s about to burst into laughter. 
	“10!” Immediately she starts roaming. Beginner tactics. That said, she is nearing you, and her outstretched arms are getting pretty close. You bend back, almost getting smacked by her searching swipes. Scootaloo dodges the arms by ducking under the water, making a small splash. Bloom immediately heads in that direction, while Scoots tries to swim away. But Bloom’s knee collides with her arm, as she joyously informs the lot of you, opening her eyes.  Scoots curses under her breath, then sulks over to the middle. Halfway through her count, you see her grin, short spurts of giggling interspersing with the spoken numbers. You frown and furrow your brow, hoping these motions will help you discover the mystery. They do not, and you’re left out of the know. Scoots finishes the count, and immediately begins a new tactic. She rushes to a corner, and spreads her arms out, perpendicular to her torso. She bends over the water and begins making lines across the pool, covering the top of it. Not an inch is missed as she quickly flies across the water, nearing you and the four others, who are now on the opposite side. The only thing you can think of is to hide underwater or try to dart across the place she leaves, into the zone already covered. The risks of the second implore you to choose the first, and you accept them, crawling into a corner and preparing to go under. But at that moment, AJ pulls herself to the wall, looking like she’s about to throw herself to the other side. You don’t bother telling her of the dangers, definitely ok with her losing. Her legs extend, and she’s out behind Scoots, then in the safe zone, without a sound. Twilight brightens, and prepares herself to do the same. Waiting for the right moment, she throws herself forward, straight into Scoots legs. Guess her timing wasn’t as good as AJ’s. The two girls go down, and you and Bloom laugh heartily at the bungled maneuver.
	The rest of the games follow in a similar fashion, dumb mistakes and skillful searches bringing quick rotations to the early rounds. As the number of games elevates, the games start to take longer, skill developing in the players. But after a while, you tire of it, and count yourself out. Hopping over the pool, you do some laps back and forth, just enjoying the feeling of your arms cutting through the waves. You touch a wall, flip over, and immediately spring yourself the opposite direction, repeating this process til you’re good and tired. At some point, the girls joined you, swimming alongside you. They bump into you here and there, especially Scoots, who apologizes and doesn’t quit. Tuckered out, you crawl out and onto the towel you brought. The sun’s heat feels incredible on your chilled body, quickly bringing you to a heavenly roast. You press your damp ear to the towel over the pavement, and tune into the thumping of the pool’s members. Heavy ones arrive, and the splattering sound of chlorine raindrops tells you of a nearby companion. You open your eyes slowly, as befits your languid state, and find Twilight lying down on the towel next to you. She stretches out, laying on her side and facing you. Your chest is facedown, but you’ve turned your head to look at her.
	“Hello Anon.”
	“Hey Twi” you mumble. She props her head up on her hand, her elbow stretched out to the side. She just stares at you for a while, a little smile on her face the whole time. You don’t really mind, on account of her being cute and you being half asleep due to the warm sun on your body. She breaks the silence hesitantly, blurting out:
	“You know, I used to live in the city too.”
	“Really?”
	“Yeah, Canterlot, up in the Northeast.”
	“I’ve heard of it…” you pause, an experience on the edge of memory. “Think I went to a ball there or something. Some fancy shindig.” Twilight lights up at this, clasping her hands together. 
	“The Grand Galloping Gala! It’s the most extraordinary event in the city!” 
	“Yeah, I think that was it. There were a lot of horse sculptures, now that I remember.” A thought pops into her mind.
	“When did you go?”
	“Oh, like, five years ago. I was in eight grade, so… yeah, five years ago. 2011.” She looks up, placing two fingers over her mouth as she thinks. A frown flows over her mouth and she drops her hand.
	“That was one of the ones I missed. Shame, it would have been fun meeting you.”
	“Eh. I had to wear a suit.” You meet her eyes, a serious expression on your face: “I don’t do suits well.” She disagrees: 
	“Oh, I think’d you’d look great in a suit! You’ve definitely got the form… if not the posture.”
	“Hey, my posture rules!” She grimaces, turning her head to the side.
	“Ehhhhh… Anyway, you should look me up next time you go. I always try to bring my friends, and it’s always loads of fun!”
	“So AJ?”
	“Yeah! And Rarity, and some other friends you and I’ve met. Oh, and the Cutie Mark Crusaders as well, as long as they promise to behave.” You chuckle, thinking of the trouble they would have gotten into their first time. You start wondering what Scootaloo looks like in a dress, but pull yourself out once her form blurs and transforms into Bloom. 
	“That sounds cool. If I end up going again, I’ll call you up.” The two of you exchange numbers, and she lies down, mirroring your position. 
	“So, what made you leave the city?” Her basking interrupted, she didn’t catch what you said:
	“Hmm?”
	“You said you were from there. I’m guessing you’re here. What made you move?”
	“Oh, I’m studying here. It’s kinda like studying abroad, but not in a different country or anything.”
	“I dunno, this place feels like a different country from the city.” She laughs, a cute little titter landing upon your ears.
	“Yeah, it sure feels that way sometimes!”
	“So wait, where are your parents? Did they move down here with you, or are you like, staying with a friend? Or renting?”
	“Actually, my parent shave a summer home here, and I live there with my little brother.”
	“Really?”
	“Yeah, it’s that big old mansion on the edge of town.” You saw that monster on the ride over from the orchard. The thing’s practically a castle, and all shiny, like it was made of crystal or something. The realization jerks you up, surprise covering you:
	“That’s you?” She seems used to the reaction, and quietly smiles to herself, gracefully allowing you to pass through your shock.
	“Yup.”
	“But how-?”
	“My parents have a lot of money, and a lot of trust.” You grimace at the mention of rich parents, wishing you could smile when you spoke of your own pair. Scoffing, you mutter
	“Lucky.” You looks at you, interest peaked.
	“Aren’t your parents rich? Applejack’s told me about them.”
	“It isn’t that. It’s just… You know, I’d fucking kill to have my own place, away from them. Instead, I have to live in the same house, while they act as if I’m elsewhere, except when they need me for dumb shit like family pictures.” 
“Instead, I have to live in the same house, while they act as if I’m elsewhere, except when they need me for dumb shit like family pictures or posing for charity dinners.” She looks taken aback, surprised at the sudden vitriol. You hadn’t meant to spill so much. You turn to her, a mix of embarrassment and fear Your voice trying to sound comedic, you ask her
	“Any chance you can just forget I said all that?” But she just looks at you sadly, and asks you in a light voice:
	“What’s wrong?” 
	“Nothing.” you respond quickly, hoping to stem the tide of emotion that claws at your voice, desperately seeking to be freed. “Can we just forget this?
	She looks at you forlornly, tender eyes cast down at you. You shift, uncomfortably. You don’t want her pity. You don’t want anyone’s. With a mumble promising being back soon, you stand up and dive into the pool. Immediately you find the wall and push off, furiously pushing yourself through the water. You hit the wall, turn, and push off. Anything to get away from that conversation. You hit the wall, turn, and push off. Anything to get away from your parents. You hit the wall, turn, and push off. The motions are coming slower now, the anger burning off with every iteration. Still, your intent remains unchanged. You hit the wall, turn, and push off. Motion offers you the only exit, the escape you need. Hit, turn, push. An escape from thought is the only pursuit you can endure, the images of your parents pursuing you down the length of the pool. Hit, turn, push. Along with those monstrous ghosts, the rage held onto all these years rides hot on your trail, demanding release. Hit, turn, push. More and more iterations wears down your muscles, the physical pain finally drawing attention away from the mental pain. Hit, turn… Turn again. 
	Your arms rise and fall onto the border, with your head sinking into them. You can feel the hot pavement sucking the coolness from your sopping arms. Heavy, quick breaths blow hot onto your arms, drying them off ever so slightly. You turn your weary head to the homebase. Twilight deep in conversation with Applejack, both of them staring intently at you. They turn away at your gaze, and you rest your head on your crossed arms once again. How could a body feel this devoid of energy? A note of shame at the realization of your openness with Twilight emerges. Geez, you meet a pretty girl, and not ten minutes passes before you freak out about your parents. What is wrong with you? You bury your head into your damp skin, a slight groan of defeat passing into it. Yeah, you screwed up here. The real question was why, however. You weren’t normally like this. Yeah, the spells of anger were there, but you could always swallow them, no problem. Playing it cool, “nah, it don’t bother me much,’ was never too hard for you. After all, you had a practiced hand. Maybe it was something about this place? These people? Your introspection is broken by a sudden pain in your stomach. Hunger pangs, ignored in favor of having fun with cute girls, had been drawn out by your exhaustion. They devastated your stomach like desperate punches, or the unspoken knowledge that your girlfriend was about to break up with you. It hurt. You climb out of the pool, clenching your teeth as the hurt multiplies. You hadn’t eaten since the morning, and now it was like, 2’oclock, you think in surprise, spotting the clock on the wall. You stumble over to AJ and Twilight, their conversation slowing as you approach. 
	“Hey, so do we have any food?”
	AJ nods, “yeah, we brought lunches in the van. Was waitin’ til somebody said something.”
	“I’m saying something,” you casually inform her, holding your poor gut. She smiles, a nervous laugh on her soft pink lips. 
	“Well, let’s go get it then.” She reaches her hands out to you, a plea to help her up. You grab her hands, wondering at their smoothness as you pull her up. You’d expected her hands to be much more calloused and dry; they weren’t the baby-smooth skin of some of your city-friends, but they were up there. A small feeling of remorse adds itself to the pain in your stomach when her hands drop out of yours. As the two of you leave the gates, she asks you
	“Hey, do you wanna talk?”
	“Uh… not really? Should I want to?” You play it off, pretending innocence. She stops and looks you dead in the eye.
	“Look Anon, I’m not kidding. If there’s something going on, I want to help. If you don’t want me to help, then I won’t. But you can’t keep ignoring your problems. That doesn’t make them go away.” A frown crosses your face, feeling the pit in your stomach deepen with every word. You should just tell her to back off. She may be blunt, but she’ll yield to that, you bet. You return the stiff look she’s giving you and open your mouth. But nothing comes out. Those green eyes, soft and concerned, seem to pierce you to your core. But you aren’t completely against it. So many of your friends back home are facile, ready to abandon you at the first sign of actual need. To be honest, you weren’t too different. You lied all the time, even when you didn’t need to. And had you ever been there when somebody needed you? You tried to think of a time, but you couldn’t. Meanwhile, AJ kept staring into you, and your heart just kept sinking. Do you talk to her? Can you? But then a duo of tiny girls come stomping out the gates, latching onto your sides.
	“Oooooh, is it time to eat?” comes the bright faced Scootaloo.
	“Ah sure hope so, Ah’m absolutely famished!” a drama-prone Apple drawls, pretending to faint. You catch her in your arms, smiling. Escape! You’d been torn in two by an unbearable situation, and Bloom had come to your rescue. Ignoring AJ’s resigned face, you laugh and hoist Bloom up into a bridal carry. You’d never loved her more than you did now. AJ sighs and goes back to the car, pulling out a big picnic basket-looking thing. You help her lug it out to your towel-base, and she begins passing out the contents. Big Mac moseys over, sitting beside AJ and Twilight, not hesitating to reach out and take his own share from the basket itself.
	Big ham sandwiches, apples, donuts, and way too many apple juiceboxes make their way through your hands as you help distribute the cornucopia. Bloom sits next to you, and keeps close to your side while the lot of you chow down. Exactly where you want her to be, you think to yourself. In a joy induced by food and Bloom, you catch AJ’s eye, and tell her you’ll talk to her later, giving her a confirming head nod when she cocks head, unsure if you mean what she thinks. You don’t realize what you’ve promised until the words have escaped your mouth, and by then, it’s too late. She’s almost beaming at you, and you don’t want to let an Apple down. Bloom’s looked up at you, confused at your mysterious communications. Her big eyes and puffy lips are just too cute, you think. You rustle her hair and smile benevolently at the beautiful little girl beside you. She sniffs and turns away, pretending not to enjoy the tousling. After the meal is finished, you lie down on the towel, a storm of emotions swirling within your chest: anger, fear, sadness, hope, and love all dancing together. Combined with the amount of food imbibed, it concludes in one turbulent stomach. You close your eyes, the light of the sun turning the typical blackness to a dim red, which softly carries you into an unexpected slumber.
	Sometime later, you awake to sounds of laughter and splashing. You blink a few times, clearing your eyes of the hazy sleep still present. You see a handful of pool strangers in the pool, as well as Scoots, AJ, Twi, and Big Mac all playing your game in the hot tub. You smile, partly due to the pleasant, lingering hold of sleep in the warmth and the feeling that you’ve had a good game to share. Concern crossing the soft contentment when you notice the missing member, and scan the pool for her. Where’s Bloom? As you tilt your head to the other side, a vision in red and tan greets you. Bloom sits beside you, her back diagonal to the ground, supported by two arms pointed downwards, with forearms resting on the towel beneath her, propping her up. Her legs, longer than you remember, and far more sightly, are bent, her knees pointing into the arm, and calves a reflection of their position. She’s looking up at something, lost in thought, when you croak out a  happy: 
	“Hey.” She looks at you, her face growing happier when her gaze alights on your relaxed form. She’s so pretty, you think. 
	“Hey Anon,” she whispers back, a tightness in her mouth alerting you to a measure of unhappiness in her. You frown, wondering what she’s holding back.
	“Something wrong?” you say, straightening yourself up a bit and moving to eye level. She looks off into space for a minute, then turns to you.
	“Are you okay?” A small amount of confusion holds you, but you feel as if you know what’s coming. You hope you don’t.
	“What do you mean? It’s pool day, I’m doing awesome.” She frowns, looking at you with the same directness that her older sister had.
	“Ah heard AJ and Twi talking about you, saying you were having some problems. It sounded real serious. I just… I don’t know. I want yuh to be okay, Anon.” Her eyes look so sad as she explains, more than you can bear. You sit up straight and move in close.
	“I’m not gonna lie, Bloomers. I do have some rough stuff going on. I haven’t thought about it too much, and I don’t really want to.” She looks even sadder at the confirmation, but you keep going. You put your hand on her shoulder, and stare into her eyes. “But I’m a tough guy. So don’t worry about me, sweetheart.” You pause. “You know, I didn’t think I would, but so far, this vacation has been so amazing. I thought it was gonna suck, but I’m having the time of my life. I feel better than I have in a very long time. And you know what?”
	“What?” she squeaks.
	“A good chunk of that is because of you.” You smile as you see her light up. “Bloom, you’ve been so rad, and I can’t believe we’ve never spoken before today. And we still got three and a half more days to be together.” You lean back, falling on your back. “So let’s just enjoy it, ok?” She looks down at you, beaming. Then she joins you, lying down real close to you, her hand on yours. You lace your fingers with her, meeting her sweet gaze. Squeezing her hand three times three times, assure he r “I’ll be ok, Bloom,” and let go. She jumps on you, giving you a strong horizontal hug, before sliding back down to a point beside you. Suddenly, you realize how little you know about this girl that you’ve come to love so dearly, and set yourself to making it right. 
	“Bloom, what grade are you in?” From there, she begins to tell you all about herself: her teacher, Mrs. Cheerliee –who did not date Big Mac, to her disappointment-, the many adventure of the CMC, the two bullies –Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon-, and a great many more facts of her life. Towards the end, you feel like you know her well, a satisfying feeling.
	In any event, you’re happy to take the spotlight off of you and place it onto your dear, sweet, precious cousin. The tumult within you softens. Somewhere along the line, you’ve closed your eyes, content with only the sound of her voice. The tales spun before you are so numerous and silly that you wonder if you haven’t fallen asleep and had dreams carry her voice onward. Big Mac pretending to be a sister, running from a more unpleasant cousin, proving a wanted criminal innocent, and so on. You barely notice when the stories stop, a short question interrupting one adventure: 
	“Anon?” Oh no. You pull yourself up, struggling to keep your eyes open and yawn hidden.
	“I’m up. I’m here.” You inform her, offering a tired smile in apology. She purses her lips and gives you a piercing stare:
	“You fell asleep, didn’t ya.” 
	“No! I was awake! Just… you know, resting.” You repeat to her as many stories as you remember, half of them misremembered or cobbled together with other stories. She seems somewhat satisfied, but still pushes you with playful scorn:
	“Ah guess you were listening. Kind of.” She glances up at the clock, then back at you. Her lips push out and her eyes widen, a pleading look wrapping you around her finger. “Hey, we only got a little while left; ya wanna jump off the diving board with me?” How can you say no? She walks up on the board and turns to you, who waits patiently on the ground. “Well, come on now.” 
	“Wait, both of us?”
	“Of course, silly. How’m I ever gonna make the biggest splash if I don’t have my trusty Anon with me?” Hesitantly, you climb up with her, making sure the lifeguard isn’t looking. Still sleeping. Your little cousin raises her arms and motions for you to pick her up. You do so, and take a flying leap off. The girl embraces you on the way down, shouting as you descend. KA-FOOM! The two of you sink down, you curled leg tapping the smooth membrane of the bottom. You hold her for a minute, cradling her, then kick off, launching the two of you upwards. You arrive at the top with a laughing Bloom, who slips out of your grip and paddles away. Not a second later, a might splash hits your face, accompanied by high-pitched
	“Gotcha!” A deep chuckle responds, followed by a challenging
	“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” Using your mighty man hands, you send a might wave her way, which she turns away from. A splash war begins, both of you moving back and forth, splashing constantly at each other. She turns around and kicks her legs at you, sending way more water than you expected. You reach out and try to grab the frenzied legs, immediately regretting your decision as your hands suffer her belligerent wrath. She turns back to you, looking to see if you’re hurt. You take advantage of this opportunity to deliver a few gallons to her surprised face. And so you continue for the next fifteen minutes, before the heavy accent of AJ beckons you to the showers. Bloom and you perfectly synchronize your pouts, but the feat fails to impress AJ, who reiterates her call. 
	Bloom swims over to the ladder on the edge, which is a golden opportunity to wrap your arm around her thin waist and yank her back. You wrap your arm around her thin waist and yank her back. You grab ahold of the ladder, and turn around, sending a victorious laugh her way.
	“Ah ha ha!” You take one step up, and feel the full force of Apple Bloom collide with your back, arms wrapped around you and feet on the wall. She extends her feet, trying to pry you off, but you hold on. Realizing she can’t hold up against your huge man muscles, she wraps her legs around you too, forcing you to carry her up. Each step is like mountain biking uphill in the snow for a mile, but you manage to bring the both of you to the concrete and stand up. She doesn’t get off. 
	“Come on Bloom, we gotta get going.” She returns a close-mouthed
	“Uh-uh!” and shakes her head, squeezing you tighter. You shake her around a bit, but she stays firm. 
	“Alright then, we can just go shower together!” you say, and start towards the boys’ shower. She immediately hops off with a cry.
	“Ah! No way!” You laugh and head into the boys’ room, unaware of the residual staring of Bloom and Scoots, who’d begun looking at you the second she heard mention of rides into the boys’ room. You shower, dry off, put on your normal clothes, and exit. You walk over to the van, where AJ and Big Mac stand waiting. Small talk ensues, and you find Twilight has already left, apparently needing to get back to some studying. After more than a little while, the two younger girls exit the girls’ shower, whispering heatedly to another. Cahoots, you think to yourself. They look up to you, blush, then immediately return to their suspicious conversation. Definitely cahoots. The five of you pile into the van, and you’re off. The cahoots soon end, and you’re wrapped in happy reminiscing of the trip behind you. 
	“That was awesome! We definitely have to do that again, Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo excitedly remarks, the notion of your lack of inclusion for the next ride setting a heavy feeling in your gut. 
	“Yeah, definitely! Lets go to the swimmin’ hole next time!” She turns to you “You gotta come see it, Anon! It’s sooo cool, and really warm, even at night!” She leans closer, whispering in your ear. “You know what that means, right?” You look at her, a lot confused, and a little nervous:
	“No…?” She gets even closer, and says, just loud enough for you to hear:
	“Skinny-dippin’” You blush furiously and move away, the little girl bursting into laughter at your bashfulness. Oh, laughter? She must be kidding. Yeah, definitely kidding, you nervously think to yourself, never having done that or even thought about it. Meanwhile, AJ’s voice wafts in from the driver’s seat:
	“Yeah, we’ll definitely do that tomorrow or the day after. Glad we went to Twi’s pool, though.”
	“Yeah,” Scoots responds, “That way we had the hot tub, and I could kick Anon’s butt!”
	“You did not kick my butt!”
	“Did too!”
	“Did not!”
	“Did too!”
	“Alright, settle down you two. Scoots, we’re here.” You look outside, the swell countryside suddenly replaced with post-apocalyptic levels of disarray. Trash cans knocked over, with the refuse of the turned over containers lining huge swaths of the sidewalk. Scoots hops over you, to the tune of Bloom shouting
	“I’ll call you about the swimmin’ hole! Think you can get a ride?”
	A short, affirming shout comes from the mess of purple hair, and your cousin’s bff leaps out into the hoarder’s wet dream. She dodges broken down trucks, mountains of dry wood, and who knows what else before she runs in a door. Her house is barely visible due to her yard holding the accumulation of several garage sales worth of junk. AJ puts the petal to the metal, and the van screeches out of the destitute neighborhood. Your disgust fades along with the picture of that sordid suburb in the back window, and you turn your attention to Bloom. In no time at all, your conversation with her ferries you home, and you hop out of the van and into your room. 
	You drop yourself onto your bed, and pick up your Gameboy. One half hour of pure pokemon mastery later, a soft knock on your door and a creak brings AJ into your room, heralding dinner. You sit down, join them in prayer, and enjoy another feast before you, your mind half-off with the gaming and emotional turbulence. A headache in the middle of dinner halts your enjoyment of the playful voice of Bloom telling of the day’s events. You ask if you can be excused, you aren’t feeling well, and receive concern and affirmation. Once more laying down on your bed, you think to sleep, but can’t. Your mind is tired, weary from the fun and pain of today’s events and recollections, but your body’s wide awake. And so you sit there, tired but awake, trying to pass the time. Another stint of time passes you by, and the same knock indicates an older Apple girl at your door. 
	You call out for her to enter, but all she does is peek her head in. She leans into your room just a bit, her hand gripping the door, and says to you in a quiet voice:
	“Wanna go for a walk?” This is it. Your stomach heaves, the subdued rumbling of your rest now just a memory. Everything you’ve been avoiding for years could be lurking just outside of the door she grips. They probably are, in fact. Terrors, black and nauseating, ready to climb into your throat and paralyze your body with agony and hate, stoof behind the smiling girl. The smile on her face offered hope, but you could not determinate its strength, especially in the context of those horrors that awaited you, maudlin grips open and waiting for you to enter. A small part of you knows you must be over-reacting, the fears of introspection being another form of the youthful fear of the dark, applied to older persons. But just as s person in pain still feels it when they tell themselves it is mere neuronal signals, you still feel the fear when you tell yourself its nothing and you’re over-reacting. It doesn’t leave, no matter how silly you find yourself. You wonder if you even could get off the bed, if you could stand up to your childhood and all the harm it held and holds still. And you know you can’t. Nothing in the world could make you say yes, hop off the bed, and step out that door. But though you are so fearfully held by the terror of the unknown, you still wish to be free. And what’s more, you’re in possession of a knowledge that can make the impossible possible: the knowledge that perception is everything. You shove your fears to the side, clearing your mind of everything, only a dull, myopic consciousness left in your brain. And with that trick, the exit has become a simple exit, not the first step in overcoming your monsters. Under the clever plan of your now mostly deactivated mind, you say yes, hop off the bed, and step out the door. And by the time your mind awakens to your position, you’re already on the pavement, speaking casually with AJ. A shock of fear sweeps over you at the realization, but as with most fears, they rarely work when you’re set against them; now that you were here and in the swing of things, their paralyzing sting had become a mere nuisance, a buzzing in your belly. 
	You felt alive, energetic as you moved down the street, a beautiful farm girl at your side. But you had been brought here for a reason, and your cousin doesn’t wait two houses before she slows and asks you to open up. You take a few steps, and sit down on a big green transformer on her neighbor’s lawn. Breathing in deeply, you sigh, the weight of the world pushing your breath out. 
	“I- I’m not sure how to start, exactly. Uh…” You hadn’t really thought that the impending conversation would require words. You stare out into space, mind completely blank, ruining the sweet, dramatic tragedy of the confession. Real life never really did follow the movies, you think. The Apple girl, now sitting beside you, comes to a swift rescue:
	“Tell me about your parents.” The word is a match to you, and you’ve got a whole stack of tinder that you finally let burn. Heat rising in your chest, you open your mouth and erupt in fury:
	“My parents! Oh fuck, my fucking parents!” You look uward and laugh bitterly. “Man, where to fucking start with them! I mean, first, we’ve got my ridiculous fucking mom, the queen of parties. Always partying or planning for the next one, like a fucking high school girl!” You turn towards AJ with an apologetic look, clarifying your meaning. “I mean, like, you know how girls get when prom comes around. Nothing wrong with that, unless, you know, YOU’RE FORTY-SEVEN and doing it, I don’t know, EVERY FUCKING WEEK! Never mind the kid! Never mind the family, or the home! I fucking swear, that fucking stupid fucking bitch loves her friend’s kids more than me!” At AJ’s skeptical glance, you grin, having the proof: “Oh, don’t think so? Okay, she didn’t remember my seventeenth birthday. She remembered the birthdays –even the graduations!- of her best friend!” You push yourself up, not happy to be sitting. “Let’s go. I wanna be walking.” She does so, a mostly neutral, partly pitying expression staying on her face. 
	“Oh, and then there’s my dad. He-“
	“Anoooooooooooooooooooooon!” The loud voice of Apple Bloom comes tearing through your rant. The shock of the interruption is evident on both of your faces as you witness Bloom rocket towards you. Her wide grin is visible even three houses away, an absurdity in the context of your virulent condemnations. She slows down as she arrives at you, but not too slow to leap into your arms, which automatically rise at the sight of her leap. Carrying her like a bride, you’re torn by the interrupted fury and overwhelming care for the love in your arms. AJ, however, is not so ambivalent. 
	“Apple Bloom we were in the middle of something,” she says sternly. Apple Bloom’s face falls as she turns from you to the other:
	“What?”
	“It’s nothing.”
	“Is it that thing you and Twilight were talking about?”
	“It’s not your concern, Apple Bloom,” comes AJ’s terse response. She’s clearly running out of patience, and although you don’t share her feelings, you understand them. She’s just trying to help you out, you think with a smile. But isn’t Apple Bloom too? You feel your heart leap at the thought of sharing this moment with Bloom, of being supported by her. With that, you intervene:
	“It’s ok, Applejack.” You turn away from her shocked look and into Bloom’s. “I was talking about my parents. It’s something I’m kind of raw about, but if you want to stay, I’d definitely be alright with it.” Once more to AJ: “I’ll try not to swear so much.” Rather than give the buoyant, joyful reply you expected from her, Apple Bloom holds a tender gaze.
	“Ah would.” You nod to AJ, confirming your choice, which she respects. And once more you begin your tirade, but this time differently. With the sweet, younger cousin still in your arms, you don’t want to come on too strong. Your words come out smoother, less venomous than before. But rather than being fake, or suppressed, your feelings feel more real than they did before. They lacked the fire and hatred, but remained passionate. This time, it felt healthier, cleaner, as if you were working out a problem instead of pouring out impotent fury. 
	“My dad wasn’t ever there. He was always on business trips, or at the office. Even when he was at home, he had an office there. Of course, I wasn’t ever allowed in there; got punished quite a few times sneaking in.” Apple Bloom hops out of your arms and onto the ground. You aren’t long without her needed touch, however: she immediately grabs your hand and laces her fingers with yours, holding you tightly. You smile down at her, a sad thankful given to assure her you’re happy with that, and in hopes that her delicate hand won’t leave yours. 
	On and on the three of you walk, while you pour out stories of your negligent parents. An orange sun descends into the glowing houses beneath it, like a letter sliding into an envelope. One story house sit in a row, an arrangement of children eagerly listening to the gesticulating boy who walks by them. The air is full and wafting, the clean freshness of a summer evening blowing stagnant heat off the bodies of the three sufferers. Trees replace houses, and the soft light of the sun flickers through them, a heavy glow still illuminating the world. Streets and Blocks bear witness to the rotten parenting of Anon Orange, to birthdays forgotten and family events as cold as corpses. A handful of fists, a backhand when a mother’s kiss was needed, and a tree filled with presents that did not make up for either fill the heady air. A lonely soccer game and a lonelier wait afterward, a dragging through a mall when little feet couldn’t keep up, and an ice cream that did not stop a little boy’s crying. But most of all, was the stillness. A house that he lived in, swallowed by a stillness that did not relent. Hollow air, devoid of childish glee and parental pride, that did not dissipate when filled with Dashboard Confessional and Bright Eyes. And finally, closing up, the giving up of a teenage boy faced with perfect evidence that he was alone. A playground with swings beckoned, and Anon’s heavy feet carried him there without his knowledge. Sitting down, he felt a surge of grief, like nothing he’d had in years, well up. Immediately, he stifled it, grimacing at the resistance it continued to put up. Three soft squeezes of his hand, and the grasping of his other by AJ brought his gaze up. Both girls were looking at him with such care, more than his parents had given, and only after a couple days. This was the final crack in the dam, and Anon began to cry. He put his hands on his head and bent over, great sobs sending his body quivering. Both girls immediately hugged him tight, the shudders of the boy now echoing through them. To his surprise, he found their eyes wet as well, his misery not faced alone. 
	Together the three of them sat the, each girl on a leg of Anons, hugging him from both sides. They cried quietly, the great tremors subsiding for an exhaustion, though Anon somehow felt more alive than he had for a very long time. He felt clean, finally free of an enormous weight he had not known he carried. It had been added to, little by little, over the years, and he had never truly seen the crushing weight until now, when it lay at his feet like a discarded shell. Wet, red eyes looked up to the girls beside him, and a blessed smile crossed his face. And in a hoarse voice, he whispered:
	“Thank you.” Both girls raise their wet eyes to you, and smile reassuringly. 
	“We’re here for you,” AJ promises, while Apple Bloom just stares at you, a tragedy-stricken face. You leans into you and wraps you in a week hug. Sensing that she’s having some issue of her own, you return the embrace, squeezing her tightly. You take one of your hands and begin softly brushing her hair as the little girl erupts in tears, weeping into your shirt. Unsure if this is because of your stories, you look to AJ for answers. She bears the same tragic expression as her sister, and is now focused that sobbing girl in your arms. Looking back to you, she says in a quiet, almost resigned voice:
	“We get it. Sort of. Our parents…” She stops and closes her eyes. Bringing her hand up to her mouth, she takes a few deep breaths, clearly trying to keep herself from following in her sister’s footsteps. Somewhat composed, she meets your eyes: “Our parents died 8 years back.” She sniffles, then continues: “Granny took over, but there wasn’t much she could do. I still have to leave the house sometimes, just to break free of the silence in it. There used to be so much laughter, y’know; but now…” She trails off, not finishing the thought. Your heart breaks for the Apples, but the only thing you can do is hold Apple Bloom tighter. 
	“I-I didn’t know.” A bitter chuckle softly falls from Applejack’s lips.
	“How could ya? We’ve been dealing with it for this long, we’ve got the hang of it, ah guess. Well, most of us do.” She looks off to the distance, homewards. ”Big Mac’s the only one who never figured how to deal with it. You shoulda seen him before… couldn’t keep that mouth shut.” Again, she laughs bitterly, an anguished smile on her face. ”Can’t really blame him though.” Meanwhile, Apple Bloom’s tears grow less numerous, and she looks up to you, cheeks wet and eyes red. Quietly, almost a whimper, she gasps:
	“I miss them.” You pull her head into your chest, where she faces diagonally into you, her forehead partially pressed into you. Your left hand encircles her body, keeping it connected with your own, and your right hand attends to her hair and cheek. You brush the former and caress the latter, trying to keep your cool and collected style from before, but the desperate need to make her feel better causing you to move faster than you want to. Through your almost frenetic motions, you whisper to her that it’ll be okay, that you’re sorry, pulling up every condolences you’ve ever heard and praying that one of them will console her, if only a little bit. After a minute or two, you stop, and just hold her in your arms. Neither of you cries now, instead clinging to each other, hoping for some strength in the face of your absent parents. 
	You reach a hand out to AJ, knowing that she can’t be feeling well at this moment. She bites her lip, and waves your hand away. Instead, your grab her hand and pull her closer to you, wrapping your non-AB-holding-arm around her. Bloom does the same, and AJ soon returns the double hug. The three of you sit together in silence for a minute, the silence broken only by deep breaths and the occasional gasp from the overwhelming might of your miseries. However, here, with these two girls, you feel better, like you aren’t carrying all of your life by yourself. On the spur of the moment, you blurt out:
	“I love you.” Both girls look up at you, curious at the target of your confession. ”Both of you. I love you guys.” A spark of happiness splinters the weight of the moment when the two girls smile faintly back at you.
	“I love you too, Anon,” AJ’s benevolence washes over you, her reliable eye telling you she means it.
	“I love you.” Bloom whispers, simple and kind, her amber eyes rapturing you. 
	“I wish I could’ve been there for you. I wish I could’ve met you before now.” A bit of uplifting laughter flies from your thin smile, “I feel like I missed out on you guys.” Somber smiles return the sentiment. ”But I’ll come back. And you can always call or text me, anytime you need me. Or even if you don’t need me. Just call or text me.” Bloom chuckles and falls into your shoulder, all tuckered out. AJ, however, turns serious, and looks off, a calculating eye aimed at the clouds. Noticing the fading light and recalling the not-short trip her, you stand up: “we better get going. AJ agrees with you, and the two Apples stand up and dust off their shorts. Bloom grabs your hand immediately and laces her fingers once more with yours. You extricate your fingers, instead pulling her close and placing your arm over her shoulder. She leans into you and attaches hers around your waist, appreciating the closeness. Noticing AJ being left out, you reach over and grab her hand, though not mingling your fingers. She looks towards you, broken out of her concentration. She smiles at you, squeezing your hand a bit, then lapsing back into whatever she was thinking. And together the three of you walk, a boy and a girl clung to each other and a second girl fastened to the boy by their hands. The trip home is silent, the coupled two happy in their connection to each other and the third girl, and the third girl piecing together a plan unknown to the others. A maroon sky covers their entrance into the house, barely escaping the tide of blueish darkness. You head to your room and collapse on the apple covered bed. A girl falls to the side of you, and you realize the group hadn’t been broken up completely. Your little cousin hadn’t the strength to draw herself away from your embrace, only capable of snuggling into you further. She now holds you in both arms, her sleepy head resting on your chest. And that was fine by you.
	Bloom continues to rest beside you, looking like an angel. Sitting up, you move over to the side of the bed, pushing off the heavy coat of sleep. You turn towards her, enraptured by her beauty. Bringing your hand over to her cheek, softly brushing it. Her skin felt soft, and just a little dry. Her cheeks had a little bit of chub to them, puffing out just slightly, as cheeks do. A soft cooing graces your ears as she smiles, just a little. Your heavy eyelids wish to shut, but at the same time, you find it hard to part with the image of the sleeping Apple Bloom. Is it weird to want to cuddle her? Because the way she’s lying down, all curled up with that little smile, you’re fighting hard not to cuddle up next to her. The muffled voice of AJ interrupts your struggle:
	“Anon, it’s time for prayers!”
	“Coming!”
	“Is Apple Bloom with you?”
	“Yeah!”
	“Bring her too!”
	“Got it!” Stepping over to the Bloom side of the bed, her back turned towards you, you wedge your hands underneath her. She grunts at the uncomfortable feeling, her slumber unpleasantly interrupted. 
	“Wha-What’s goin’ on?” By now your arms are now underneath her, and you pick her up. She shifts in your arms, her amber jewels fluttering at you. 
	“Prayers.”
	“Unf,” she grunts as she adjusts herself, now more properly cradled in your arms, “I wanna sleep.” She faces up now, your arms under dangling legs and supporting her shoulders.
	“In a minute, princess.” She smiles at the new nickname, and you log the experience away in your memory. Gotta remember that one. Once she settles into your arms, you walk over to the door. Houston, we have a problem; no hands left to open the door. And your princess has her arms crosses while she dozes in your arms, the scene too precious to interrupt. Remembering your technique from a couple nights ago, you sit on the doorknob, sliding down, which causes it to turn. The door open slightly, and you open it the rest of the way with your foot. It might not be the most majestic way of opening doors, but hey, the door’s open. You walk down to the elder’s room and deposit the sweet girl on the floor between you and AJ. Feeling grateful for today, you’re more open to joining in the prayers. You can remember it this time, so you join in.
	“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. This I ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.” You spot approval on your great-aunt’s face, and nod in acceptance of it. Big Mac starts off the next ritual, stating his high as the pool and the low as the cramped van. Oh come on, you think, you had the front seat! Granny’s high was cooking dinner, and her low was cooking dinner. The serving part she enjoyed, but all the effort wasn’t too much fun for her, it turned out. Aj goes next:
	“Well, my high was that walk I gotta take with my cousin and sister. There were some rough parts, but ah think we all came out a bit closer for it, and I’m real happy about that. As for my low… uh, can’t say that I have one.”
	“Nuh-uh, you gotta have one,” says Apple Bloom, woken by the injustice of attempted rule-breaking. Applejack just gives her a dry look, asking her if
	“you remember what yuh said two nights ago?” Apple Bloom looks thoughtful, her role as judge put aside for a minute. 
	“Uhh… no?”
	“You said your high was Anon, and you didn’t have a low.” 
	“Oh. Uh. Well, Ah get special treatment,” she offers, placing a hand on a chest proudly thrust forward. It apparently works, drawing out a good-natured scoff:
	“Well, ah guess my low was that Rarity couldn’t have come today. I think she woulda had a lot of fun meeting Anon.”
	Apple Bloom’s turn: “I got the same high: ‘specially cause I got the princess treatment from Anon afterwards.” The family cocks their heads, including you. “Yuh know, like this.” She reaches for the sleeping dog in the corner, which you hadn’t noticed til now, and attempts to carry it like you did her. She fails, and it leaps out of her arms. Not one to accept failure, stubborn Apple Bloom chases after it, trying to pick it up. After a handful of failures, AJ tells her that we think we get the picture, and a sheepishly Apple Bloom returns to her original spot. 
	“Anyway, I don’t have a low. Cause Ah get to do that,” she stresses the “Ah,” and sticks her tongue out at AJ afterwards. You laugh at the mild petulance, then notice all eyes on you. Oh yeah. You needed one. Uh…
	“Well, I don’t mean to sound repetitive, but I have to follow in my dear cousins’ footsteps. That walk was really something, and I don’t think words can really do it justice. But it was good, I can say that.” The two girls’ heads nod at the simple truth. “As for my low, it was riding through Scoots’ neighborhood.” Apple Bloom turns to you, gasping:
	“What? Why? Do yuh not like her?”
	“No no, I think she’s rad as heck. It’s just, you know, she lives in a straight up dump.”
	“Eeyup.”
	“She does not,” comes the squeaky reply.
	“Bloom, that was a straight up wasteland! The Wasteland by T.S. Eliot was less of a wasteland than that!”
	“I dunno what that is,” comes Bloom’s flat reply.
	“Some trash poem. Anyway, you can’t dispute your visiting cousin’s High-Lows.” You turn to AJ for corroboration on your fresh rule: “That’s how it is, isn’t it?”
	“Sorry sis, it’s rule number 15. You should really know that.” The double attacks from cousin and sister are too much for Apple Bloom to respond with anything besides a pouty huff.
	“Aw, don’t take it too hard, Bloom. I can still give you the princess treatment.” You stretch your arms out in a peace offering. Turning her nose up in the air, she steps into your hands with a royal aloofness. 
	“Ok, but only because you insisted.” You don’t tell her that you didn’t insist, instead lifting her up like a good steed or knight would. You don’t tell her that you didn’t insist, instead lifting her up like a good steed or knight would. She can’t resist the warm allure of your arms, and is soon lazily reclining your arms. She stares at you with half-lidded eyes. You think she’s going to say something a couple times, but she just quietly looks at you. You reach her door, enter, and slowly lay her on her bed. She moves along with you as you pull the covers down and then over her, scooting off them and then stretching out. You appreciate the help, and show her with a little kiss on her forehead. You brush her cheek one more time, and tell her
	“Goodnight, princess.”
	“Goodnight, my noble steed.” You chuckle at the reference to last night.
	“See you tomorrow.” She just grins at you as you walk away and turn out the lights, not without taking one last glance at her before you do. Then you lie down on your bed, and play Pokémon until you fall asleep.
	It was a good day.


Part 2: http://pastebin.com/yZvq3Gp9