It was a full moon tonight.

She used to not notice such things, but then MLP had come along and changed all that. Full moons always made her think of Luna now, and sometimes when she looked at it she tried to imagine the Night Princess’s visage embalmed in it, thinking what it must have been like to be Celestia seeing it for that first time. Usually though it was too difficult to look past the smaller size and boring features (what she now thought of as boring). The dreaminess of her imagination barely clung like soft droplets on the crisp reality of it, hanging up there in the sky.

She always noticed the moon now. And the sun—ah, well, the sun.

Tonight there was no full moon. She sat atop her half-made bed, back leaning against two pillows stuffed against the headboard. Her short fingers ran slowly through the thin, synthetic tail fibers of a Celestia figure, catching sometimes on the clamminess of her hands or a chewed nail. She liked to imagine it flowing gently and ethereal around her fingers, a light magical zing twinging her senses. There were others on the bed with her: a Luna, a Twilight and Rarity, and a chibi Celestia plush she kept tucked up under her arm. She liked the touch of it on her skin. It was like fur, almost. The plastic of her figurines was cold and hard to the touch—lifeless. The light, painted-on blush of Celestia’s cheeks and that little smile, frozen and unchanging, as her own brightened with laughter or was impressed with concentration or smeared with tears.

On her lap sat a worn and bent and stained notebook, twisted open to an empty page. At the top were written the words:

Story Idea
Celestia, Luna, Twilight and Rarity

A pen lay untouched next to her, her hands occupied with stroking Celestia’s mane and tail as she looked off at something in the distance. Her phone sat on her other side, its screen recently smudged and still lit.

Jess had texted her.

—Carol, are you okay?—
—I should come over—
—It’s probably nothing, you know—

Carol continued to twirl the plastic fibers through her fingers. She had a story about the three princesses, and how Rarity and her love of the dream of royalty contrasted so sharply and painfully with the reality. She always imagined Twilight to hate being a princess, but Celestia and Rarity both would want it so much for her, think it fit her so well, not realizing they really wanted it for themselves.

Luna would be the only one who would notice the bookmare’s distress, wouldn’t she?

Setting down the Celestia figure she picked up Luna, her phone vibrating with a new message.

—It’s probably just some old friend of Kevin’s—

There was a muted rumble beneath her floor and the lamp flickered. Angry voices drifted up through the loose boards.

The Jones family again. Their young boys were so rambunctious. She liked to watch them though and think what she might do as their mother, in case she ever…

—Carol, please say something—

Perhaps she should have gone out with Kevin tonight. It was Friday after all, and he had been mentioning it over the course of the week. But inspiration had struck her this afternoon, while handing salted pretzels to spoiled kids and rich parents, and such a thing couldn’t be wasted or it would drift away. Kevin understood. He liked to draw pony from time to time.

He knew how important this was to her. Two years, sixteen stories, four hundred and thirty two followers. So close to five hundred. She knew this new story would be the one to push her there. She knew. Maybe she would even reach a thousand…

Carol picked up her phone, opening a text to send to Kevin, but stopped. She could say so much—she should say it. But looking around her room she noticed how strangely empty it felt. Over thirty pony figurines, customs, mini’s, Funko’s, and framed art sat and hung about her, always looking at her, always filling her room with Equestria. And yet, this night it was empty. Empty of words to text. Empty of feelings.

She set the phone down. Kevin was left ignored. She picked up her pen and gripped her notebook.

She remembered she hadn’t washed her dishes in week, but there would be time for that later. Perhaps time for Kevin.

Now, she wrote.