Every day when the Sun went to drink in the Everfree air and the stars dripped into the sky, sparkling like cider on a black bar counter, Apple Cobbler would wrap her dish rag around her orange hoof and scrub the patio tables to obsidian. When the last pie shelf shone crumbless (and the last forlorn hay fry had been sneakily shoved into her mouth), she would glance out the window - a cursory glance, no more than a casual grazing of the eyes - and just catch evening's last oranges bathing Ponyville's distant orchards. She'd lean against the bar, teeth on her humble apple mug's handle, and wait for the Darkness.

Some days it came early. Some days it skipped the distant hamlet and went to graces more refined places - Canterlot, the Crystal Empire. She herself had seen it haunting Rainbow Falls just after the Equestria Games. No matter where or when it came, though, it always looked the same: a huge black square devouring the air, foreign letters flashing by in strange groups like erratic white birds, and an eerie, melodic sound echoing for miles and miles. She could hear it now, though the forest trees garbled it to a low hum.

The ponies of Ponyville? They never mentioned it. Apple Cobbler had brought it up to a wayward workhorse who came by her cafe one evening, one Rivet she'd met once before at the Games.
"Say Rivet?" she'd inquired, "You ever get tired of that music playing every day?"
He'd quirked an eyebrow at her, looking up from his Sweet Apple Soda and apple cobbler with a silly little smile and said,
"Ms. Cobbler, I have no idea what you're talking about. Ponyville nights are as quiet as that Fluttershy your cousin hangs around."
But Apple Cobbler was a stubborn mare like her apple-bucking cousin, and so she kept on buckin'.
"I can hear that racket from three miles away, don't play me. You keep your work headphones on all night?"
"Sure do. You ought to too, living so close to the woods here."
"What about the dark? Ain't it dark when the danged thing floats over town like that?"
"Are you talking about Rainbow Dash now, because if that's what you mean then yeah - hooo - she's more than enough to blast the ear drums and close your eyes."
"I ain't talkin' about Rainbow, I'm talking about the giant black thing flying around at suppertime. Just yesterday, too - whole town looked darker than midnight."
Rivet adjusted his cap (light grey, like his work cap), seeming a bit concerned for her well-being, then replied,
"No, not a bit darker yesterday. Probably the brightest summer's day I've seen for a long while. Jim Beam nearly walked off the roof thanks to the reflections off of that darned crystal tree we've got now."



And so that was that. Apple Cobbler figured that if Rivet couldn't bridge the disconnect between the odd ponies of Ponyville and their dark geometry, no other pony would. A frantic letter to Applejack and old Granny Smith when the first Darkness appeared, a meeting with the mayor, some secret bakers' meetings (for even if you do not know the muffin mare, the muffin mare knows you)... All had brought her little more than wherever the Elements of Harmony went, the Darkness was sure to follow.

Every day she'd just shrug at the window, stick her sponge to her hoof, and struggle with the crusty pie tins and burnt baking sheets rather than the vagaries of Ponyville life. She had, after all, chosen to avoid it. Baked-on apples worried her more than her cousin's existential issues did most days, but on this particular day she would be made to worry just a bushel's worth more. Because two minutes past the point she began scrubbing her favorite dessert pot, a strange brown stallion with an hourglass cutie mark strolled through the bar's non-existent door frame (she preferred curtains, and it was too hot for those that night); he attracted attention despite his decidedly non-descript aesthetic, as if the air around him were just slightly off.
"Excuse me, ma'am," he called, with an accent Apple Cobbler didn't recognize, "Might you have the date?"
A reasonable question - she lost track of time herself.
"Twelfth," she answered, and when he seemed as if he were going to ask again, added, "Twelfth of Celeste."
About this time the stallion caught Ponyville's reflection in the glass and near gasped. He grew rigid and stressed in the subtle way only a bartender could notice, but maintained a level voice as he asked,
"And the year?"
He didn't take his eyes off of the black rectangle once he'd spotted it, just looked on ahead with a bewildered look and a deep, deep fear in his eyes that Apple Cobbler couldn't place. She set the half-cleaned pot down in the sink and watched him a moment before saying to him,
"If you mean that -" she jerked her head towards the looming Darkness " - then it may as well be any day on any year, stranger." It clicked. A friend, or family. That was it. He thought he'd lost them in one of those freak Ponyville accidents, no doubt - and searching his eyes she had no doubt this stallion had lost before. Her voice softened a bit as she added, "If you're concerned about a friend of yours over there, let me tell you they're in no danger, none at all. Happens every day and no one's the wiser. Got a cousin in Ponyville myself, and she's been alright these past few years."

She'd expected the stallion to relax, loosen his shoulders up, maybe take a chair and sneak a quick-hidden sigh behind a cool cider, like most normal ponies would. Instead he started, stumbled, sputtered, and cried,
"That's absolutely impossible! Impossible - I was just there not - not" - one, two, four, one on his hooves - "Not one day ago, had been there for three weeks I had, and no" - here he began making odd hoof movements and fumbling his words - "No huge... blinky, rectangle... thing (!) ate up the town! Not a single one, no. I think I'd notice that!" He paused. "What time is it?"
A strange stallion - but he'd already said he'd been to Ponyville, so the "normal" train had already chugged by express. Apple Cobbler shrugged, leaning out of the kitchen window casually.
"'Bout closing time."
The stallion paused again, then waved his hoof vaguely in the air, "Right, fair enough. And that thing over there? You seem to know a bit about it. What is it, exactly?"
It was almost hilarious how urgently the stallion was speaking about an occurrence Apple Cobbler had come to see as ordinary. Like a filly suiting up in armor to chase rainbows. Apple Cobbler shrugged again.
"Closing time too, I suppose."

---

Pinkamena Diane Pie had many jobs. Number one party planner, super duper best friend cheerer-upper, cake batter taster, annual winter ice skater, her actual job at Sugar Cube Corner - and closing. Every day. She had to close It ever since the day she broke It.

It was sort of like a rubber band - hard to pull, not very tasty, and It would snap back once you let go of It. Unlike rubber bands, It sang, only lasted a few minutes before It disappeared, and if you stepped through It, there was a strange peach-looking thing with a beard there. Pinkie called him Jeffrey. Pinkie Pie didn't visit Jeffrey all too often, since holding It open for more than a few seconds took some serious upper body strength and boy did she love eating nothing but cupcakes some days. But still, it was enough knowing that Jeffrey was there, and that if she didn't take the time to close It the huge licorice block over Ponyville would keep on being there and Jeffrey would be sad.

She'd only just closed up the silly old bit of licorice one midsummer evening, and had settled down for a hot cup of cocoa with rainbow marshmallows when she heard a knock, knock, knock at the door. She figured it must have been for her; the store had closed down half an hour ago, and the Cakes were, well... Parents. They didn't have friends. By the time Mr. Cake had drifted up from the living room, Pinkie Pie was fluffy-haired, down the stairs, and talking through the half-unlatched door.

"Hi there! Welcome to Sugar Cube Corner - well not right now, it's closed - so welcome to the Cakes and Pinkie's house! Can I get you some cocoa or some cupcakes or some sweet rolls or - oh come right in Time Turner! And - " Pinkie gasped and wrapped a dazed Apple Cobbler in a monster hug, "Apple Cobbler! I haven't seen you in ages! I'm so, so sorry I couldn't make it to the last baker's meeting; Applejack and I went on this long, super-duper cool road trip to find out if we were cousins - Auntie Applesauce is doing fantastic by the way, and so are her cats -"

Mr. Cake smiled and ushered the two guests in quietly as Pinkie Pie went on and on. The door closed behind Time Turner with a click, and all at once Pinkie Pie was buzzing all over the kitchen.
"But anyway since then I've been trying to make some apple-tastic treats and you really need to try them, Apple Cobbler, because I know they're yummlicious but I don't know if they're apple-licious enough and Applejack's been too busy with the farm this week to drop by."
Apple Cobbler was looking more Granny Smith by the moment.
"No thanks, Pinkie. I - I had something to eat a while ago. Celestia's round - augh, Time Turner, what is that danged thing?"
"Time Turner, you too - unless you want ginger ale like last time?"
"Ginger ale for the mare and myself, yes please and thank you Pinkie Pie." Time Turner rushed forward to steady Apple Cobbler as she nearly wobbled to the floor. "She's called a TARDIS, and you'll feel better with the ginger ale. Works miracles - cures everything as long as you're a thousand feet in the air, and right now your body thinks you are. Just trust me on this one."

When a few minutes had passed and the three were all situated around a round table that smelled of donuts and ginger ale, Pinkie Pie piped up,
"So did you two just come to say hi or is there some super secret- " Pinkie caught herself and sunk to a stage whisper, which she seemed to think was a real one, "Some super secret mission stuff going on?"
Apple Cobbler was slumped over and drowning in ginger ale, so Time Turner put his hoof on the table and explained.
"Pinkie Pie, I don't want to alarm you, but there have been some strange things going on in Ponyville - at least since I've been gone, probably for..." The whole lot of them, Apple Cobbler reflected, seemed to think this was a drama. Or maybe she had a headache on top of the time-space whiplash nausea. "Several years. Not a single soul here seems to notice it, but every day something floats above this town - and not just this town but... Wherever you and your friends go." Pause for dramatic effect, and...
"Oh yeah!" Pinkie Pie chimed, "The big licorice sing-y block, yeah, I know. You don't have to worry about that silly thing!" She took a huge gulp of her hot cocoa and grinned, "Jeffrey's got It covered."
"I know this is probably all quite distressing, but Ms. Cobbler and I are here to find the root of the issue and fix it so you and all of your friends can sleep in peace - what?"
"The guy behind the licorice block. He makes sure it only lasts a few minutes, and then I close it and poof!" Pinkie mimicked a director's mustache, "End scene! Done for the day!"
"What?" Time Turner repeated.
"What?" Apple Cobbler mumbled, having found the energy to sit up despite the weight of the Time Vortex crushing her entire everything.
"What?" Pinkie Pie mimed cheerfully. She licked the marshmallow-and-chocolate foam off of her lips, swishing her tail behind her on the chair. When the rest of the table remained silent for more than a few seconds, she confessed,
"I'm not really supposed to tell any one about It because it'd affect how ponies act, y'know, but you guys are background ponies and I've been waiting for a looooooonnng time to tell someone about it."
Apple Cobbler shook her head and spoke up after a few more seconds,
"Actually, Pinkie, that's just what the last 'baking session' was about. I wanted to know just what that Darkness above Ponyville was, but none of the ponies there knew what in tarnation I was talking about." Her mouth finally felt like it as back on her muzzle, so she continued, "I can see and hear the thing from my cafe over yonder, and this fellow dragged me out here in his weird unicorn box to follow the last lead I had."
"Excuse me," Time Turner sniffed indignantly, "First of all, she is a TARDIS and deserves respect. Secondly, you entirely agreed to help me and I could have found the one pastry-shaped house in town quite easily myself."
Apple Cobbler gave Pinkie a look, "The poor bat didn't know what year it was. I figured he might need a little help in a few ways."
"It was a perfectly valid question!"
"A good neighbor always helps a stallion who can't tell a left from a right."
"I believe your exact words were, 'Buck it, I don't have anything better to do on a Friday night.'"
Pinkie Pie watched the two go back and forth as she lapped up the rainbow marshmallows like they were brew. She didn't know how Mr. Turner did it, but he always seemed to make lady friends very quickly. Apple Cobbler finally turned back to her making the same scrunchy face Applejack made when she was frustrated.
"So what this paranoid little stallion here wants to know is how to get into the Darkness or whatever it is and stop it. Never mind that it's entirely harmless - "
"You don't know that."
" - And a neat distraction from my work besides."
"The squares could be waiting, planning and before you know it every pony," Time Turner shuddered and whispered, "Every pony in Ponyville, or in all of Equestria, could disappear."
Well that was rather silly, Pinkie Pie thought, and she said so between sips of chocolate.
"Jeffrey's a pretty nice guy, so I don't think he'd do that - and I handle shutting It down every day anyway so even if he fell asleep or something... Hey!" Pinkie Pie's eyes glowed like cotton candy swirls - two of her friends meeting another of her friends, especially a very special friend who didn't get to meet her friends ever. "Perfect! I could show you guys Jeffrey, and you can ask him yourselves! I don't think he'd mind."
The time traveler and the apple cafe owner looked at each other. Apple Cobbler shrugged.
"Yeehaw?"
Time Turner nodded.
"Allons-y."
Pinkie Pie power slammed her empty mug on the table, setting all to shaking like a sugar rush.
"Pinkie Pie!"
"So what'll we need?"

---

Stephen Davis didn't spend every day of his life surrounded by candy-colored equines; some days he spent surrounded by more modestly colored equines, like Derpy Hooves or Unnamed Earth Stallion #2. Each day, corporate casual. Cream or black suit - suave as the chief content officer and executive producer of Hasbro's biggest moolah mare should wear; a tight belt; pressed khakis; salt-and-pepper, slightly scruffy hair (for the "mane" man, as it were); and the ever-pressing, well-loved issue of which pony t-shirt to wear. It was always a pony t-shirt. He didn't have any other shirts, and he had a shirt for every pony the crew had ever designed. Today he felt fruity, but not too fruity - the sort of fruity where you don't exactly want fruit, per say, but something that tastes like fruit and something else, too. Apple Cobbler it was.

The drive to work was uneventful, what with the Pawtucket traffic signals still working and cars and drivers still being driven and driving as usual. The sky was a blue color, as the atmosphere and position of the Sun would typically make it. His parking spot hadn't been destroyed in some freak alternate universe related incident, and his parking brakes worked splendidly. The weather was mild for summer, but only just; variations of a few degrees during the month were fairly typical. He had no trouble getting into the elevator, no trouble during the elevator ride (including, but not limited to, surprise Gak attacks, fellow riders attempting to extract gold from their extremities, and/or barely-detectable yet unpleasant smells), and no trouble stepping into the coffee-perfumed hall on the twenty-seventh floor. He strolled past the Grape Escape and Pictionary cubicles, past the temporarily-combined Ouija-Hamtaro crew (they were trying to bring the franchise back from the dead), and past the eternally-sweaty-and-screaming Bop It team to finally reach the dark-lit room that friendship flourished in. He closed the door gently behind him, catching the sign that read "Please Do Not Feed the Animators" before it could slam against the wood.

Computer screens blazed in every corner of the room, each and every of them lit with wide cartoon horse eyes or shiny cartoon horse plot. The animators and layout artists laid sprawled out across the floor, their chairs forgotten in exchange for concrete's blessed support for their untimely hunched backs. Stephen Davis chuckled lightly and petted an intern's head before settling down in front of his own computer to check the progress of the next season finale. Product placement? Check. The girls would love their new alicorn satyr overlords. Explosions? Check. The boys would love their... BOOM!

Had he heard something? A small explosion or implosion? No? Probably just the interns. Shinier butt tattoos for the horses. Check.

"See, it just took a little patience and a HUGE crane to get it to work!" A cheery voice tinned at ten percent volume from one of the computers near the back of the room. Stephen Davis figured it must have been a cat or something. Sunset Shimmer returning to Equestria. Check.

"Pinkie, are you certain that your crane is licensed to hold open two dimensions?"
"Nope, I've never tried it before!"

One of the interns stirred, a younger man who preferred pink to parties, drinks to late-night drudgery, and the floor to his city flat in New York. He had the good sense to sleep under his computer, and so the voices emanating from it were painfully clear in his hung-over ears. Stephen Davis continued down the list. More Derpy. Check.

"Is this the man you were talking about? Jeffrey?"
"No, but hi Mr. Person! Hey, you look tired - how about a wake-up song?"

The intern was certain he'd never done LSD, but the the ponies speaking to him through the otherwise black screen made him question that. "Mr. Davis?" he asked groggily, squinting through the haze of electronic light to see his boss awake at his desk, brow furrowed as he stared down a list three miles long.

"Oh hey, there's Jeffrey! Jeffrey, hi, it's Pinkie Pie!"

Major character death? Ch-

"Mr. Davis, I think there's something wrong with the credits."

Stephen Davis stood up from his chair and carefully wove through the mass of slumbering workers to stoop down beside the intern. He gave his eyes a few minutes to adjust the the black on white of the credits roll and found he didn't have to; two modestly-colored and one candy-colored equine filled the screen just in front of the staff's names.

Stephen Davis noted Apple Cobbler.
Apple Cobbler noted Stephen Davis.
“Nice shirt,” she said.