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Pinkie Pie Makes Limestone Smile
The sky above the rock farm hung heavy with the deep blue vestiges of night, even as the unseen sun shot its first hooves of scarlet and gold up above the horizon. Alone to watch this early-morning interplay of color, light, and cloud, was Limestone Pie. The tough earth pony mare stood by the edge of an overlook, leaning on the handle of a pickax, watching the kaleidoscopic glinting of gem-laden ore below. Her teeth chattered as she glanced back at the farmhouse and studied its dark, shuttered windows. Its sole sign of life came from the tiny curl of smoke emitting from its chimney, but even that was obscured by the chill, persistent, late-fall breeze.
She shook her head, heaved what she knew would be the first long sigh of her workday, and turned back—
“Hiya, big sis!”
“GAAH!”
Limestone recoiled from the sudden, improbable presence at the very edge of the outcrop. It bounced toward her with pink boisterousness, brandishing something floppy and plaid.
“P-Pinkie,” she spluttered, trying to steady her jackhammering pulse. “What are you… how’d you even… ?”
“‘How’ is, I had a ton of frequent flyer miles.” Pinkie planted three of her hooves and raised a woolen scarf in the fourth. “And the ‘why’ is simple, silly; I know my favorite biggest sister doesn’t always think about how she’s doing, or if she has unmet physical and emotional needs, or other really big things like that! So while I can’t help fulfill all those needs—”
Limestone facehoofed. “Celestia above, please let my death come swiftly.”
“—I can at least bring you everything you need to have a great first workday of the chilly season!” And Pinkie began hoofing things at Limestone so quickly that she wasn’t fully sure where they came from: “Here’s a scarf, thermos, space blanket, space heater, Space Jam—”
“What about personal space?!” Limestone dropped the burgeoning pile with a clatter.
Pinkie cocked her head to the side. “But last time I was home, you talked about how lonely you get out here. And I got to thinking how it seems like you get up earlier than everypony else, and how you stay out way longer than dad does…”
A hot blush overtook Limestone’s muzzle. “Yeah, well, he’s getting old. Somepony’s gotta run this place.”
“But that’s not the only thing that matters.” Pinkie’s face-splitting grin softened into a slight smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “I mean, sure, you’re running this better than anypony probably ever has. But what about yourself?”
“What about myself?”
Pinkie shrugged. “You’d really rather keel over dead than get called on the fact that you’re running from something?”
Limestone took a step back, grimacing. “Look. You wanna talk, go talk to somepony else.”
“What if I just wanna help?”
“Pinkie, your idea of ‘help’ ain’t always helpful.”
“What if I wanna help any way I can?”
“Then stuff a pickaxe in your pie-hole and come help me dig!”
After a slow, silent nod, Pinkie reached up with a hoof, rooted around in her mane, and produced a pickaxe. It went straight into her mouth, as Limestone had ordered.
Limestone nodded her acceptance. Before she could turn away, though, the glint of sunlight on metal drew her attention to the sundry items at her hooves. She bent down and picked up the scarf, then wrapped it around herself before setting off along the edge of the overlook.
“Itchy,” she muttered. But after a moment, a feeling of warmth suffused her neck and upper barrel. “I’ll get sweaty,” she said aloud—though she knew it’d be a blessing on her way to and from the pit, and during breaks.
She glanced at Pinkie, hoping to see a response. But Pinkie simply kept pace. The pickaxe stayed where it was, and her smile was light and subtle.
Limestone flicked her tongue across her lips. “Alright, since you insist… yeah, I’ve been better. I guess, way back, I needed to prove to myself I could run this place. But then dad slowed down, and I had to pick up so much work… now I don’t have any energy to think about anything else!”
She frowned. “Now I’m stuck, Pinkie. I watched Maud get her Rocktorate, and you’re saving the world… even Marble’s doing some cool stone-tile art stuff lately.”
Limestone glanced at Pinkie, whose grin had deepened.
“I do need help,” Limestone breathed. She turned a tentative smile on Pinkie. “But I guess today I’m getting some, plus warmth and company.”
She shook her head, heaved what she knew would be the first long sigh of her workday, and turned back—
“Hiya, big sis!”
“GAAH!”
Limestone recoiled from the sudden, improbable presence at the very edge of the outcrop. It bounced toward her with pink boisterousness, brandishing something floppy and plaid.
“P-Pinkie,” she spluttered, trying to steady her jackhammering pulse. “What are you… how’d you even… ?”
“‘How’ is, I had a ton of frequent flyer miles.” Pinkie planted three of her hooves and raised a woolen scarf in the fourth. “And the ‘why’ is simple, silly; I know my favorite biggest sister doesn’t always think about how she’s doing, or if she has unmet physical and emotional needs, or other really big things like that! So while I can’t help fulfill all those needs—”
Limestone facehoofed. “Celestia above, please let my death come swiftly.”
“—I can at least bring you everything you need to have a great first workday of the chilly season!” And Pinkie began hoofing things at Limestone so quickly that she wasn’t fully sure where they came from: “Here’s a scarf, thermos, space blanket, space heater, Space Jam—”
“What about personal space?!” Limestone dropped the burgeoning pile with a clatter.
Pinkie cocked her head to the side. “But last time I was home, you talked about how lonely you get out here. And I got to thinking how it seems like you get up earlier than everypony else, and how you stay out way longer than dad does…”
A hot blush overtook Limestone’s muzzle. “Yeah, well, he’s getting old. Somepony’s gotta run this place.”
“But that’s not the only thing that matters.” Pinkie’s face-splitting grin softened into a slight smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “I mean, sure, you’re running this better than anypony probably ever has. But what about yourself?”
“What about myself?”
Pinkie shrugged. “You’d really rather keel over dead than get called on the fact that you’re running from something?”
Limestone took a step back, grimacing. “Look. You wanna talk, go talk to somepony else.”
“What if I just wanna help?”
“Pinkie, your idea of ‘help’ ain’t always helpful.”
“What if I wanna help any way I can?”
“Then stuff a pickaxe in your pie-hole and come help me dig!”
After a slow, silent nod, Pinkie reached up with a hoof, rooted around in her mane, and produced a pickaxe. It went straight into her mouth, as Limestone had ordered.
Limestone nodded her acceptance. Before she could turn away, though, the glint of sunlight on metal drew her attention to the sundry items at her hooves. She bent down and picked up the scarf, then wrapped it around herself before setting off along the edge of the overlook.
“Itchy,” she muttered. But after a moment, a feeling of warmth suffused her neck and upper barrel. “I’ll get sweaty,” she said aloud—though she knew it’d be a blessing on her way to and from the pit, and during breaks.
She glanced at Pinkie, hoping to see a response. But Pinkie simply kept pace. The pickaxe stayed where it was, and her smile was light and subtle.
Limestone flicked her tongue across her lips. “Alright, since you insist… yeah, I’ve been better. I guess, way back, I needed to prove to myself I could run this place. But then dad slowed down, and I had to pick up so much work… now I don’t have any energy to think about anything else!”
She frowned. “Now I’m stuck, Pinkie. I watched Maud get her Rocktorate, and you’re saving the world… even Marble’s doing some cool stone-tile art stuff lately.”
Limestone glanced at Pinkie, whose grin had deepened.
“I do need help,” Limestone breathed. She turned a tentative smile on Pinkie. “But I guess today I’m getting some, plus warmth and company.”
Pics
This pleases me greatly, as how could it not? I will have to get back to it later. For now, though: ALL HAIL BEST CRANKIEST PONE
I like the set-up and the conflict—both feel really appropriate for the scope of a minific. It's deceptively difficult to craft a premise that works well with the minific format, so big kudos for that.
As for the voicing, this is probably a little bit of personal preference, but I do think that Limestone reads just a bit too emotionally honest. The show makes it pretty clear that she's a pretty repressed pony, so a line like "I do need help" comes across as a bit on the nose to me.
It also feels like Limestone completes her emotional arc a little too easily. From the beginning until the "Stuff a pickaxe" line, Limestone is denying her emotional problems, to a confrontational level. Then, less than 150 words later, she's admitting she needs help. And during those 150 words, Pinkie (who's supposed to be the catalyst/agent of this emotional change in Limestone) doesn't really do anything. I personally feel that we need a lot more input from Pinkie before Limestone earns her emotional confession.
As for the voicing, this is probably a little bit of personal preference, but I do think that Limestone reads just a bit too emotionally honest. The show makes it pretty clear that she's a pretty repressed pony, so a line like "I do need help" comes across as a bit on the nose to me.
It also feels like Limestone completes her emotional arc a little too easily. From the beginning until the "Stuff a pickaxe" line, Limestone is denying her emotional problems, to a confrontational level. Then, less than 150 words later, she's admitting she needs help. And during those 150 words, Pinkie (who's supposed to be the catalyst/agent of this emotional change in Limestone) doesn't really do anything. I personally feel that we need a lot more input from Pinkie before Limestone earns her emotional confession.
Getting back to this...
Genre: Limestone
Thoughts: I think >>Bachiavellian says it pretty well: this is a Writeoff-sized chunk of lime-flavored goodness that resolves a little too easily right now. I feel like there’s deliberateness in how the story tries to make use of both dialogue and action—and I think the latter is a key thing it’s banking on—in its attempts to set this up and justify it. But unfortunately I just don’t think it quite lands at this point.
That doesn’t make this bad, though. Again, I think I can see what the story is trying to do there. I get the feeling that we’re meant to accept that Limestone is willing to open up more once she gets Pinkie to shut up and get out of her face. TBH, I’m good with that interpretation, but I think less Limestone-centric readers could use more help to justify that leap. Help could come in the form of stretching that moment out with more words to help ease people into it; conversely, I think being more careful with Limestone’s word choice could go a long way. Like if Pinkie’s trying to get her to accept help, don’t have her literally say “I need help”— making it more oblique would let Limestone “save face,” which might (again) help people get there in a way that’d feel more natural.
A’ight, now I get bogged down in the details a bit because it’s Limestone and I loves me some Limestone. The bottom line is that I think it’s great seeing more of her, and I think the story itself here is otherwise pretty heartfelt and well-put-together.
Tier: Almost There
Genre: Limestone
Thoughts: I think >>Bachiavellian says it pretty well: this is a Writeoff-sized chunk of lime-flavored goodness that resolves a little too easily right now. I feel like there’s deliberateness in how the story tries to make use of both dialogue and action—and I think the latter is a key thing it’s banking on—in its attempts to set this up and justify it. But unfortunately I just don’t think it quite lands at this point.
That doesn’t make this bad, though. Again, I think I can see what the story is trying to do there. I get the feeling that we’re meant to accept that Limestone is willing to open up more once she gets Pinkie to shut up and get out of her face. TBH, I’m good with that interpretation, but I think less Limestone-centric readers could use more help to justify that leap. Help could come in the form of stretching that moment out with more words to help ease people into it; conversely, I think being more careful with Limestone’s word choice could go a long way. Like if Pinkie’s trying to get her to accept help, don’t have her literally say “I need help”— making it more oblique would let Limestone “save face,” which might (again) help people get there in a way that’d feel more natural.
A’ight, now I get bogged down in the details a bit because it’s Limestone and I loves me some Limestone. The bottom line is that I think it’s great seeing more of her, and I think the story itself here is otherwise pretty heartfelt and well-put-together.
Tier: Almost There
“—I can at least bring you everything you need to have a great first workday of the chilly season!” And Pinkie began hoofing things at Limestone so quickly that she wasn’t fully sure where they came from: “Here’s a scarf, thermos, space blanket, space heater, Space Jam—”
“What about personal space?!” Limestone dropped the burgeoning pile with a clatter.
Fantastic exchange.
>>CoffeeMinion
I get the feeling that we’re meant to accept that Limestone is willing to open up more once she gets Pinkie to shut up and get out of her face.
For the record, that's how I read the story too. And while Limestone's turnaround does feel abrupt and should probably be paced a little more deliberately with later editing/expansion (this is probably more the fault of the minific format than of authorial intent), I think the subtext of her turnaround was reasonably clear.
Honestly, I think the biggest problem here was trying to cram it into a minific. It's hard enough to paint an emotional portrait in 750 words; to not only do so but to explore and justify it thoroughly enough to then sell a quick turnaround borders on impossibility. And a lot of emotional swings that authors try to cram into minifics are things that happen over time; it's rarer than it looks to find a conflict that a single moment can swing, without also having the luxury of painting for us all of the little moments of doubt and introspection and whatnot that go into the groundwork of that decision.
Not to mention: Unlike, say, "3, 2, 1" and its time bomb of a relationship renegotiation, this story is trying to portray someone whose change comes from opening up — and that's a slow process not amenable to effective condensation.
This tries hard, and the writing's got heart. Pinkie's silent compliance with the pickaxe thing is a good example of that. But there's only so much suspension of disbelief you can overcome in the two minutes the format gives you. Thank you regardless, author.
Tier: Almost There
I feel like this turns too quickly, from Limestone begrudgingly humoring Pinkie to spilling her guts to Pinkie, and undergoing a significant personal change at the end of the piece. The emotional beat feels unearned. The build-up is great, but the epiphany she reaches seems like it should come at the end of a long conversation, rather than the fast-paced exchange that we got.
I also cannot help but feel that the first paragraph is a tad overwritten for the space that you're working within.
I also cannot help but feel that the first paragraph is a tad overwritten for the space that you're working within.
Pinkie Something Something Limestone Retrospective
Thanks to >>Bachiavellian, >>horizon, and >>Posh for the feedback! Of course this story is all Dubs' fault in the end. He goaded me into writing about Limestone in the Discord chat, and at the time my other story ideas weren't quite panning out, so I figured, why not? The world can always use more crankiest pone. Also, many thanks to Zaid for the lovely Pinkie pic that could be interpreted so many different ways!
I actually thought I was doing pretty well with the amount of plot that I was trying to fit into 750 words, but I'm okay with the consensus that this needs more space and time for Limestone's surface to crack. My one real regret was having Limestone say "need help" instead of the original phrasing that I had there: "have needs." It's a subtle difference on the one hand, but at least IMO it would've been a lot less trite. I agonized about these two little words for an excessive amount of time before giving up and succumbing to sleep, and I've spent the interim wishing I'd left it the other way.
Plus, the title's dumb. :-p It just was literally the only thing I could think of at ungodly-o'clock in the morning when I went to hit submit.
Oh well. Thanks all, and see ya next Pony round!