WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS GRATUITOUS AMOUTS OF.....FLUFF(This is the longest post I've ever written OTL This has been so much fun! It's made me smile a lot! I'll miss this RP!!)
The day after the battle…Fluffle was sitting quietly, afraid to dance, watching the newlyweds. She didn’t understand much of what was being said when they were taking their vows, but she understood enough to recognize its sanctity. Robyn and Icon kissed with a fervor Fluffle had never seen in either of them (then again, she was in Equestria when the mafia tried to take over Netwaffle). She could not resist letting out a whinny of approval, happy that she was able to make it to the wedding. She was in danger of not being able to come but that was taken care of with lots and lots of ethereal mane-spray, making her look something like this (only blue) :
Readers, blame Cassie for being a lazy bumFluffle continued to watch them, entranced, when who should ask her to dance but the waffle artist? Fluffle obliged him, uncomfortable as she was on her rear hooves. That didn't matter. It was sweet to be in his arms.
And then the crazy bride tossed a snack into the crowd! An entire bouquet! Why Robyn wouldn’t want to eat such a scrumptious-looking bunch of flowers herself, Fluffle would never know. She leaped, and decided she must have had some deer somewhere in her heritage, for she jumped just as high, if not higher, than the other girls.
Now why would they want it? They didn’t look like they would eat the flowers, Fluffle thought to herself. She caught the bouquet in the stem and started munching on the white roses, much to the chagrin and disappointment of the women who tried to catch it. Fluffle was about to savor the last rose, the largest one in the bouquet, when she felt a pang of guilt. Fluffle turned to look behind her. There was Mick, right where she'd left him on the dance floor.
Fluffle looked at the last rose. It was perfect, each petal so soft and well-defined, each with its own place, in harmony with the other petals, the white surfaces creamy enough to make any herbivore drool. Fluffle handed him the rose, blushing. She tried not to stare at him. Mick took the rose and pinned it to his
dashing suit he just looked so good in suit. Mick only smiled and didn't say anything to her about it, but it warmed Fluffle's heart to see that he kept the rose on him for the rest of the night.
Several hours before the wedding, an old, grumpy librarian had offered to work for her. Aiden Montgomery was desperate to raise funds for the new Netwaffle/Wafflenet library merge, and Fluffle was the only person (er, pony) who was hiring. The way she smiled at him gratefully when he introduced himself…Montgomery felt a warmth from this pony he hadn’t known in fifty years. He turned his lips up awkwardly. Ah, no, that wasn't how he was supposed to do it. Perhaps with this bakery job, he’d find it easier to smile.
After putting Montgomery straight to work (gently, of course, so as not to hurt his already worn-out back), Fluffle contacted her insurance agent, laughing bitterly at Sparky's idea. Moving to Netwaffle as Sparky suggested seemed ridiculous. Fluffle would stay right in Wafflenet, where she’d established herself among the community of humans, away from ponies. Her insurance agent nodded, provided her the funds to clean up the bakery, and dashed out the door without another word, for fear of being re-possessed.
Fluffle stuck her head out of the doorway and looked left at the now empty town square. Everybody and their mother were packing. She sighed. Perhaps adjusting to Netwaffle wouldn’t be so bad with everyone from Wafflenet there. Fluffle looked at the briefcase containing numerous Bits. At least she’d be off to a good financial start in Netwaffle.
---
Her flood insurance money was more than enough to purchase one of the vacant buildings for sale right around the town square. But
The Fluffy Bakery was already established…Fluffle decided that
The Other Fluffy Bakery would be a perfect name, for people would think the fluffy bakery would be Nelly’s, the one that had been famous for its meat pies. This bakery would hold an entirely different variety of goodies.
Last she heard, this Nelly person was on an island, but no one had heard from her in years. Fluffle would talk to her when she got back, but for now, there were muffins to make! The pony unpacked her belongings, nodded at Aiden, and the two began to set up shop. Fluffle was relieved to find that no one discriminated against ghosts owning businesses here. One of the more famous business-owning ghosts, Glenda, had shown her how to extract water’s essence and create ghoul water, something essential for her undead teas. The bakery would be even more glorious than it was before with this precious knowledge. Even the possessed sugar shaker seemed happy, greeting customers whenever one walked in.
Several months had passed. Fluffle had someone working for her, she had no financial qualms, her “borrowed” Armies of Undead Cupcakes from when she was feeling frisky was a big hit with the tourists, and still she was not at peace.
It helped that a fully grown she-duck and blue jay came to visit
The Other Fluffy Bakery along with many of the Wafflenet ghosts and townspeople, but still, she was not at peace.
Working at the G-Host club was fun, and fluff therapy was doing wonders for the ghost women with depression. Her ghost cupcakes AND Army of Undead Cupcakes were loved, especially when the "princesses", as Rocky called them, were in need of them. Fluffle was more than glad to be of service, but when she needed a breather of her own, she asked to be petted. The arrangement worked well for her, and she’d been petted for a long time the last time she’d visited the G-Host club, but she was not at peace.
Her body was found eventually in an ocean, where it dug itself into a nice little bed of sand with clownfish and blue tangs to thrive upon it, and upon learning this, Fluffle decided she was
really not at peace.
Of course, Fluffle didn’t tell any of the customers. The pony knew from experience that sad faces meant bad business. Besides, work was an excellent distraction; she could keep her thoughts at bay so long as she kept her hooves moving. She continued serving muffins—she’d gotten this tangibility thing down to a T—and Aiden’s book-flavored masterpieces with a friendly whinny, but had trouble with the waffles, which she rarely had to make. Fluffle couldn’t so much as glance at the waffle someone wanted to put into a box and wrap up without her absent entrails gnawing themselves with anxiety.
”That was, uh, a good try, but you left bits of flour in there. Right there? And there. I wouldn’t worry about it,” Mick hastened to console the frustrated pony. “You’ve just made what we used to call a Heffer Waffle.” Fluffle stared at him incredulously, as though to ask him, “am I fat?” “No – ah – they’re…Heifer Waffles when you
make them.” Mick hesitated, wondering if his impromptu explanation worked, and decided it did. He nodded knowingly, and Fluffle beamed at him, proud of herself for (sort of) mastering the art of waffle-making. “The key, though, is presentation…” Fluffle smiled at Aiden as she cantered back into the kitchen, but he noticed her lip trembling slightly. Aiden Montgomery raised an eyebrow. The gesture said it all, without swearing like he usually did (except in front of women and children).
”It’s Mick, isn’t it? He’ll be fine.” The librarian/baker ruffled Fluffle’s head fur, motioning for her to make it tangible before he did. The scratching wasn’t as comforting as Fluffle had hoped, but she appreciated the sentiment.
Mick had a special arrangement with Purgatory, Inc. : He was allowed to stay in Netwaffle on the condition that he had to leave periodically to work off time from his Purgatory sentence. If the missions he went on were anywhere near as dangerous as “help save Wafflenet from the mafia”…Fluffle froze her hooves, not realizing she had been pacing. Pacing would do nothing if Mick was off fighting a battle on behalf of a stranger and she was here. He'd told her not to come with him time and time again... She was helping the community by serving up smiles, she supposed, but wasn’t it her job to protect him? Staying behind was not an option.
Fluffle motioned to Mr. Montgomery and whispered in his ear. He chuckled, ruffled Fluffle’s fur again, and nodded. “You do have your bow and arrow, don’t you, Miss?” Fluffle nodded emphatically. She phased out the back wall of
The Other Fluffy Bakery, and leaped like a deer towards Dunburrow. Fluffle overheard through Mick's earpiece that Dunburrow was where his assignment would take place. It was dark, but the moon was bright. It would help her.
Phew! Talking a ghost out of spectral suicide took a lot of work and careful words. Mick turned into an alleyway, relieved this assignment was over. He put a hand to the earpiece. Yes, he’d done well, but it wasn’t nearly enough to clear him for his former crimes. Mick sat down on a fire escape and looked at the place. It wasn’t that much different from Wafflenet, this village of mages. There was a living, breathing (if magical) body of people, most of which were innocent, just going about their lives and working hard in their not-destroyed town. He sighed. Netwaffle was a wonderful place for ghosts to live, and the missions he was sent on didn’t kill him. He couldn’t complain. As a result of the events leading to his living in Netwaffle, Mick had grown, and gained “many hero and courage points besides”, according to the bearer of the pink voice. There was one thing, he thought, that he
still didn’t think he was brave enough to do just yet…
Fluffle skidded to a halt. This was the mage village Metastophelous was talking about over the earpiece, she just knew it! A chill ran through her fluff. Mick would surely be angry with her if she followed. After all, this was his battle, not hers. Still, she had to at least see what happened to him. Fluffle jumped hard and sank into the ground, leaving only a tiny patch of fluff above the surface that resembled grass to the untrained eye. The pony was nearly out of the habit of taking deep breaths when nervous, but the habit was definitely acting up now. Fluffle crawled, from her position in the ground, into an alleyway. She could get her bearings there and figure out what the underground portion of this village looked like.
No. No, she shouldn't be here! That was no patch of grass below him. It moved, for one thing, which wasn’t uncommon in a village of mages, but it had a distinctly fluffy quality to it. Fluffle wondered where Mick was. He should be on the ground, she thought, unless something happ—what was that tugging she felt on her head? Fluffle looked up to see the face of the waffle artist, blank for the most part, but the rest of it was pained. Between her front hooves, Fluffle’s essence sank with guilt and nerves. She rose out of the pavement and took a step back. No, she shouldn’t be here with him, lest she get hurt, as Mick had said so many times before. But still…
Mick felt the absence of a sinking stomach when he saw Fluffle shy away from him, as she had done over six months ago in the basement of Waffles, No Nets. He knew that she wasn’t scared of him, but he could see she was upset. From her face alone, Mick could understand what she was saying. “
Are you mad?” Mick shook his head, but his expression remained the same.
Fluffle’s ears drooped. Mad, no, but disappointed? His face was unusually hard to read. Her breathing became even shallower, but she tried to suppress it. She couldn’t look too jittery in front of him. Fluffle locked eyes with Mick. If he wasn’t mad…what was he?
Mick stared right back into her bright, blue eyes. Those eyes that had once been fraught with fear of his presence, those eyes that had shimmered when he gave her the rose, that gazed at him in his suit for the wedding and G-host Club, that watched over him and Nets, No Waffles, that were steely with determination when she readied her bow and arrow, that filled with relief and joy when she found out he could stay with her in Wafflenet…
it would have been the perfect time, he mused.
Both ghosts looked at the street lamps that had just been turned on. The light from the street lamps struggled to push through them, casting two semitransparent shadows. Fluffle decided this was a good time to speak, something she rarely did even in the bakery. “Mick, I—“ she barely managed to squeak out an explanation before he put his hand on her lips, shushing her. He removed the earpiece from his left ear and tucked it into his sweater pocket. Fluffle was astounded. She wondered if he would get into trouble for taking it off.
The gentle light flickered across the alleyway, but it was dim enough for passersby to scurry on their way without noticing them. Mick floated stiffly for a few moments, but he thought better of his fears and glided to Fluffle, pulling her close, running his fingers through her fur. Fluffle was not too surprised by his embrace; she was just content that he wasn’t upset with her. She inhaled slowly, taking in his scent. She adored that he always seemed to smell like flour wherever he went, not just in the kitchen.
Mick tilted his head so that his eyes met Fluffle’s. He wrapped an arm around her waist, letting his hand sink in completely. Fluffle’s insubstantial skin tingled where he was petting her, and she trembled at the touch. The pony flushed a deep navy beneath the streetlights. She’d gotten her intangibility under control, but not that violent blush when Mick looked at her that way. On top of that, his arm was around her waist--Fluffle wanted to smother all of him in her fur and let her lips touch his--No, she couldn't do that. She'd
followed him. Remembering this, she pulled away out of shyness. The pony swiveled her eyes downward, avoiding the eyes that lacked irises and pupils. They made up for them in sheer boldness.
Fluffle found herself looking into Mick's eyes once more when he cupped a hand under her chin. Mick couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He pulled her back to him and kissed her fiercely. Fluffle, not expecting such force, elicited a surprised gasp that quickly melted into a low moan. Her essence between her front hooves thundered, and she wrapped a hoof around his neck to steady herself. Without thinking, she began to stroke his neck, her sensitive hoof picking up the tiny ridges as she pressed her lips to his in return. What Fluffle lacked in experience she made up for in accidental finesse.
The fiery sensation that surged through him was more palpable than his body could ever be. Mick had kissed before, but hadn't ever imagined fur or a long face being involved. A pony's face wasn't quite designed for that. Her hoof ruffled his thick hair and he relished her touch, releasing any inhibitions he had left regarding her species. Mick sighed inwardly and pressed into her soft fluff.
God, her fur was intoxicating...
Mick’s shirt pocket emitted a tiny whoop. The two ghosts jolted apart, panting with both an artificial need for air and very real shock. There was indistinct yelling from a female with a thick accent over the earpiece, saying something along the lines of "Oh, leave them be!" Even so, it was enough.
Mick swore under his breath, but kept the earpiece in his shirt pocket. Fluffle turned her head to look at his face, which had darkened to a steel blue. She gestured to her back sheepishly and looked at the suddenly interesting pavement. He wasn’t sick this time, so he might not want to—oh, he
did get on. He gripped her mane and she shivered deliciously, the usual touch taking on a whole new meaning. Fluffle leaped away from the mage village, past the clouds, over the trees, and into Netwaffle, where dawn was beginning to break the barrier of darkness…
It was late morning by the time they arrived in front of Waffles, No Nets II. Neither of them was very tired. Mick and Fluffle exchanged glances. The former server and the bakery owner decided, at the same time, they’d be patrons of the diner for once. Fluffle saw a lot of people already gathered around a large table, obviously for something special. There were Britknee, Tanya, who was serving, (Woohoo! Hay waffles!) Blaze with Primrose at her feet, Sparky, Tracy, some people she’d gotten to know in Netwaffle, including that odd duck Luna, and
her.In spite of all that had happened, Fluffle did not forget her. She jumped out of her seat and galloped to her, feeling as though she hadn’t seen her in a long time. Fluffle pulled out what looked like a long, blue, tattered piece of fluffy cloth, and wrapped it around Penny’s neck. No one would have to see the slash mark. Fluffle skipped back to her seat, and tucked into her hay waffles.
Sparky Drama O’Llama sighed with contentment, blissfully unaware that someone was watching him. Discovering several dead bodies, having to use his escape and battle skills, and suggesting the town moved to Netwaffle made him very popular with 15 or so mysterious beings from higher realms. One of those beings, the bearer of the pink voice, couldn’t stand it. Sparky wasn’t getting nearly as much recognition as he deserved. The man was beaming, clinking glasses with his fellow townspeople, but nothing was being done for him—not
really.
”I'll fix that.” she thought.
Knowing full well that the rules could not be bent in her favor, the pink voice’s owner wafted down to Netwaffle as mostly that: a voice. She was still tangible, she discovered, as her foot touched the dirt road, but she could not be seen. That would present an advantage to her (although she had wanted him to know what she looked like). No matter. No one would have to know a thing. The woman tiptoed through the doorway of Waffles, No Nets II and walked straight to Sparky, who still had a scar from that nasty head wound he suffered from six months ago in The Ghost Battle of Wafflenet.
”Mr. O’Llama? Would you mind stepping out for a minute?” Sparky jumped as though a hot poker had stabbed him in his seat, knocking over several water glasses (none of which hissed upon spilling their contents, thank heaven). “I—I—“ he spluttered as the townspeople gawked in alarm. “Bathroom!” he managed at last, then sprang out the door.
Wary of new ghosts, Sparky lowered his voice and put on his brave face. “Who are you?” He felt two long, bendy sticks fold around him—arms, he presumed. Perhaps someone was trying to strangle him!
The voice, which reminded Sparky of the color pink, giggled an unexpected fangirl giggle.
“I’ve been watching you from the very beginning. There’s really no need to be so afraid of me! I promised your caretaker that I would not harm you.” Caretaker? Sparky wondered.
The voice continued,
“I was disappointed to see that through all your heroism—not only that, you alerted the town immediately upon finding my little pony in your field, and for that, I thank you—but see, you haven’t gotten much in return. ” Sparky scratched his head. He wasn’t expecting anything for what he’d done six months ago. Her little pony? Was she once Fluffle’s owner? Did she even have an owner? This had to be some sort of trick. His past experiences in Wafflenet made him suspicious, and Sparky wasn’t going to go down without a fight. He balled his hands into fists, glaring in the direction of the invisible woman’s voice.
”My gosh, you are so adorable when you do that. I’ve always had a bit of a squish, as the NTWFers call it, on you.” Before Sparky had time to register the words, he felt foreign lips on his cheek, just shy of touching his own.
He could trust this lady.
”I have to go now, but I hope to see you again. Get a Clue or something.” The voice faded.
Sparky walked feebly to Waffles, No Nets II, his face flushed pink, his hand to his cheek, and a serene smile on his face.
The townspeople shook their heads when he came in. No one should have looked like that after screaming “Bathroom!” and running….
A waterlogged bag of sugar sat lamely on a high shelf in Waffles, No Nets II, never to be used, never to be tampered with. The diner owner gave orders, on behalf of an anonymous ghost, to everyone, living or dead, to leave it in peace. They thought that person was crazy, but heeded their words.
But why, some townsfolk thought,
why would someone keep this particular bag of sugar way up there? Only two Wafflenet ghosts would ever know.