Presenting JockAnon and Moonie!
---Episode 1: Lewd Calculus---
>Be Anon
"Fuckin' hell..."
>You're in University of Canterlot's Regent Library
>Your girlfriend, to your right
>A notebook in front of you
>A calculus book, to your left
"What the fuck ever happened to numbers, Moonie? It's like the motherfucking alphabet song is tearing into my ass right now."
>Anon Anonson. Also known as #32 with the UC Thundercorns football team
>Star quarterback, and sometimes-wrestler and intramural boxer
>Now forced to learn "derivatives" or whatever bullshit this is
>"Hmm..."
>Moonie nibbles a pencil, grumbling over how best to dumb down this concept for you
>You take another crack at the problem
"So I get what a 'slope' is. It's a rate or some shit. But why do I have to drag this x around?"
>You point to where Moonie has solved a similar problem at the top of your notes
"So you've got an equation with some exponits-"
>"EX-ponents"
"Whatever. Exponents. And then its 'slope' is just some more x's and numbers?"
>She glares at the paper for a moment
>"Hmrm!"
>Her cheerful grunt seems to indicate a breakthrough
>"Look here. Say you have Y = X..."
>She draws a little graph
>"So, how much does y increase by when x is one versus when x is two?"
>Oh shit, you know this!
"One! It goes up by one. Right here."
>You point to the line on the graph
>"Derive it."
"Uhh..."
>Fuck, Anon
>Alright...
>So you gotta drag down the expronit
>But it's invisible or some shit
>So x turns into one
"So x... becomes one..."
>Moonie nods, her clammy hands rubbing a pen nervously
>"Go on..."
"I derive that... and that's the slope... and it increases..."
>OH.
>FUCK.
>The angels' choir sings
>A million doves take to the skies
>Radiant beams of sunlight stream through the mosaic windows
"Oh shit Moonie, I get derivatives now!"
>"SHH!" a dozen or so angry voices scold from across the library
>Fucking nerd-asses, all of them
>You ignore them on account of the presence of your girl
>Otherwise, you would mock them for valuing "education"
>Your stubby girlfriend pumps her fist
>"Alright, Anon!" she whispers hoarsely. "Now we can /sleep/."
>She slumps back in her seat dramatically
>Gathering your belongings, you stand up and push your seat in
>Moondancer follows you out of the library, her bulbous star-pattern bookbag hanging off of her shoulders
>The quad separates the library from most of the dorms
>On paper, you're rooming it up with two other members of the football team
>But in reality, you spend most of your time at the frat house or in Moonie's room
>She got her hands on a single bedroom so nothing would distract her from studying
>...
>...heh
>Fat lot of good that's been doing her since you two started dating
>Right as you start on the central pathway down the quad, nestled between rows of blossoming cherry trees, you swoop down and nab your squat girlfriend's bookbag
>"Anon!"
>Her immediate response is to flail her arms in order to recover her 'stolen goods'
>But she simply huffs when she sees that you've just taken the over-lade thing to ease her load
>...which is now nothing, since you're carrying not just her bookbag, but her backpack as well
>And your backpack and duffel bag, too
>In all honesty, you hardly feel like you're carrying anything
>"You can't carry /everything/..."
"Watch me"
>She pouts, but doesn't press the issue
>Instead, she leans in and wraps her arm around your waist, and when you toss your arm over her shoulder, she nuzzles your armpit
>You can feel her fuzzy ugly but mostly adorable sweater through your paper-thin white shirt
>Sometimes people ask why you aren't dating a buxom cheerleader or some bombshell communications major
>And you admit, at times, you've asked yourself the same question
>But for all the answers you can muster, in the end it's just the reality that matters
>For whatever reason, you love the fuck out of this cute little nerd
>And for whatever reason, she loves your retarded ass back
>A gentle breeze whisks some of the brilliant pink blossoms from their tenuous grip on the trees, scattering past you and Moonie over the footpath
"Ahh..."
>The spring air is crisp and delicious
>Your eyes drift over to your girlfriend
"So, Moonie... why spend so much time helping me with math?"
>She looks at you like you've grown a second head
>"Well, you're my boyfriend, right? Helping you succeed academically is something which romantic partners are wont to do, yes?"
>Fuck, that's a lot of syllables
"Y-yeah, OK, but really. Why?"
>Please don't call the bluff
>Please don't...
>"My boyfriend HAS to get SOME calculus. Otherwise my fellow classmates in thaumatological fluid dynamics will make fun of me."
"Hey, if anyone laughs at you, just give me the names. I'll beat their heads in."
>Perhaps afraid that she has signed one or two death warrants, Moonie frantically shakes her head
>"Nonono, Anon... I-I just mean, well... I can't go out with a TOTAL jock..."
>You smirk
"But I am one though, right? How am I going here, again?"
>Your little nerd sighs
>"Football scholarship contingent on a GPA that's only somewhat terrible..." she intones dejectedly
"See? Total jock."
>She pouts at you when you squeeze her closer
>But she doesn't fight it
"Alright Moonie. So, I have to get good at math, right?"
>"If at all possible, given where you're starting from..."
"OK, that's fair..."
>You let those words hang for a moment imposingly
>She catches a wry grin developing on your features, and the glint of panic in her eyes informs you that she knows you're going somewhere with this
"I don't want my bros making fun of me either. So that means you have to lift with me."
>"W-WHAT? A-ANON, I'M NOT F-FAT!"
>Her arms automatically wrap around her stomach, trying to push in and conceal the pudge
>Which, of course, totally isn't there, if you were to believe everything Moondancer said
"Jesus Moonie, slow down. I'm saying you should lift with me, not be a cardio bunny..."
>"Oh..."
>A relieved breath fills the beat
>"Wait... what does that mean?"
"I'm glad you asked!"
>You take on the tone of an excited schoolteacher
"Lifting builds muscle, Moonie. It builds mass. Cardio is shit like running, and with dieting, that's where weight really comes from."
>You slip your hand under her sweater and squeeze her love handles
>She locks up, shivering when you lean down and nip her ear
"Besides, I love having more of you to grab"
>"A-Anon, that's lewd!"
"...my chubby little geek"
>"Don't be lewd!"
>She frowns when all you do is guffaw in response
>And sniff her uptied two-tone hair
>Ahh, the sweet musk of sweaty nerd
>How she turns you on in so many ways...
"Says the screamer."
>"Anon!"
>Her cheeks take on a red tint, and she wriggles under your grasp
"Who loves being cuffed to the bed."
>"Stop~" she whines
>You tighten your grip, refusing her escape
"And /loves/ taking it up the butt in a schoolgirl outfit..."
>"Anon, I'm not a lewd girl!"
>She very nearly escapes your clutches, wiggling and kicking in an attempt to break free from your embrace
>But you grab her tight, wrapping your arms over her belly and lifting her into the air with all your might
>"I'm not a dirty girl~!" she protests, kicking the air to no effect
>Her struggling is far more cute than bothersome
"Oh, yes you are!"
>You squeeze tighter and grab handfuls of her scrumptiously pudgy tummy
"You're my dirty, kinky, sweaty little geek!"
>Her resistance soon dies out, replaced by squeals of amusement when you rub your whiskery face all over the back of her neck
>"P-put me down, Anon!"
"Not gonna happen. I'm carrying you all the way up to your room tonight."
>And, once again, she huffs as a token sign of resistance
>Unable to admit just how much she loves the way you treat her
>Eventually, you shift her to a bridal carry, and she throws her thin, lanky arms over your neck
>"W-we're still gonna do butt stuff tonight, right Anon?"
"Mhm."
>You smile and kiss her forehead
---Episode 2: Perspective---
>Be Moondancer
>It's your bi-weekly study session for vector super-calculus with Twilight
>So far, it's been a productive session
>"Moondancer, I heard you're dating someone now. Good for you, huh?"
>Twilight winks at you suggestively
>I-is she somehow implying that you're lewd!?
"Y-yeah... so what?"
>"Well, it's just that I don't recall you ever having gone out with a guy before, that's all."
"I guess not."
>You shrug
>"Who is it?"
"N-nobody..."
>"I head it's Anoooon~"
>FUCK
>She knows Anon is lewd! Now she thinks YOU'RE lewd!
"No!"
>Twilight frowns
"Maybe... OK you're right it's Anon!"
>Her assumptions confirmed, your friend and study partner claps and nearly leaps out of her seat with joy
>"So..."
>She rests her chin on her hands and wiggles her eyebrows
>"What do you guys do together?"
"MMMF!"
>You seize up and whip your head side to side
"Completely chaste things! N-nothing inappropriate!"
>/Last Night/
"OoooOOOoooh FUCK~"
>Your body rocks back and forth, suspended in place by four ropes tying each limb to the bedposts
>Anon is absolutely obliterating your vag
>And you're loving every minute of it
>"Fffhuh... Huh... This is what you get for being a naughty girl!"
>He flips up your schoolgirl's skirt and slaps your ass
>UNF
"Hoooooly FUCK Anon! Smash my ass until I spit jizz~!"
>/Today/
>Be Anon
>You're sitting in the locker room with your teammates
>After a hard practice, you talk about a wide variety of things
>Today, the subject is girls
>"Chyeah Anon, I was fuckin' BLASTING her bareback bro."
>"Heard you been smashin' it nightly on that sweaty egghead girl bruh, how is it?"
"Sick, bro."
>/Two Nights Ago/
>You take a sip of hot cocoa before you lay down on the couch
>You rest your head in Moonie's lap
"What are you reading?"
>"The Hobbit. Again."
>Oh shit, is that the one in space?
"Um..."
>She looks down and starts rubbing your shoulder
>How did she know it was sore!?
>"Yes, Anon?"
"Can you read it out loud?"
>Her face lights up with excitement, and she goes at her new task with gusto
>Frankly, you remember next to none of it
>All you know is that you fell asleep like that, like, five minutes later
>You woke up the next morning to find that she chose to sleep with you there on the couch that night
>She tunneled under you in order to be the little spoon
>...
>you kinda wanted to be the little spoon
---Episode 3: Valentine's Day---
>Be Valentine's Day
>You are today
>Be Anon
>You stand outside of your girlfriend's apartment dorm room
>And you've been pounding your fist on it for the last five minutes
>Each time,
"Hey sweet cheeks! I'm here to romance you and shit!"
>And back,
>"I'm studying thaumatological output charts and I can't have you distracting me!"
"What the hell is a taumatorg?"
>"It means magic you dolt!"
"It's valentines da-hay-hay-hay!"
>Fucking hell Moonie
>You read all about how to be romantic online
>And today was the day you were gonna seduce the hell out of her
>And put it in her butt
>Again
>...
>She's not going to let you in
>Other people shoot you weird looks as they pass by
>You shuffle in place and wave nervously while concealing the flowers under your jacket, doing all of the things you know of to not look like a school shooter
>Slumping against the wall, you release a frustrated sigh
>Can't she just drop her nerd shit for a day and let you love on her like the wild stallion you are?
>You sift through your pockets for your phone, intent to wait her out by playing flappy herd
>But your finger catches on a cool slice of metal
>No... It can't be!
>It is!
>You crawl over to the door and stand up
>Glee fills your face as Moonie's spare key unlocks the door
>You waltz in confidently, flowers now in hand and a bag of goodies on your back
>Moonie yells incomprehensibly at you with her back turned
>You close the door
>Don't want campus police coming by again
>"Anondon'tdoitI'minthemiddleofsomething-"
>A light kick swings her swivel chair around, bringing you face-to-face with your glaring and so loving lady
>"DAMMIT ANON!"
>The poor girl is almost shaking with frustration!
>And she drops her "studying material"
>...which is no book or treatise at all!
>A nearly-finished black fuzzy sweater, identical to hers in all but size and heavy musk
>It slides off of her needles and clumps on the floor
"A sweater!?"
>You pluck the thing from the ground and hold it up
>It really is a perfect match
>Just as prickly and thick as hers
>She groans in frustration as you hold it to your face and rub it
>"N-now the surprise is ruined!"
>Anger turns to shame and sadness
>Tears form in the corner of her eyes
"Couldn't you just have told me you were working on your gift?"
>"B-but then you would know! And you'd try to see it!"
"Eh." you shrug
"Probably not. I'd leave you to it since you were doing something special."
>"R-really?"
>You drop your things and swoop in on her lips
>Tender, with a faint lime taste
>Her red lips finally meet yours with encouragement, and every faint movement of sensitive skin whisks more of her embarrassment away
"You really got me a sweater?"
>"Y-yes. As a token of our togetherness. It is a f-fitting social-romantic gesture, am I correct?"
>You pick the sweater back up and fold it
>"I-Is it not to your pref-"
"I fucking LOVE your sweater!"
>Dropping your bag, you carefully pull the new garment over your head
>"But it's not-"
"I love it."
>There's a hole in the armpit
>Apparently it really wasn't complete
>Fuck it, you've got nice pits, might as well show the world that you're not ashamed of them!
>"Did you acquire commercial tokens of your love too?"
>You whip out a thick bouquet of morning glories
>Also known as moonflowers
>You set these on her desk and grab her feet
"Flowers. My jersey. Some chocolate from the African ocean."
>Her bare feet are immaculately clean due to not being exposed to the outside world for days
>Once you start threading your fingers between her toes and over her feet, she shudders
"And I watched a few massage videos on a porn site."
>"Anon... that's so sweet of you, I- WHAT!?"
"It's like a regular massage though, right? Like, your feet can feel good, why not your tits or your ass and shit?"
>"l-lewd..." she mewls, biting her lip
>You continue in silence until a critical question comes to mind
"Uh, since it's Valentine's Day, can I have some of your panties?"
>"WAAH! Anon that's so lewd! Why would you ask that!?"
>She brings her fists below her chin and squirms
"Well I can't take your sweaty booty cheeks home with me! I have needs too!"
---Episode 4: Party---
>Be Anon
>Fat beats fill the air
>It's paradise!
>You just beat the Appleloosa A&M Rodeo Wranglers in a complete blowout game
>Your performance was center-stage today as quarterback, and all the sweetest glory falls on your broad shoulders
>The night's celebration was hastily planned, but how complicated can it get?
>Music, babes, alcohol...
>Party shit!
>It's only been an hour since the party began, but your shirt is already off and you've had a few creative drinks
>Creative meaning you have no fucking idea what went in them
>But they were awesome, and you're feeling a buzz
>Three girls cluster by a grand piano decorated with layers of half-full solo cups
>Two cheerleaders studying "communications," or as you once so eloquently put it, "haha more like 'cum in your mouth' mications!"
>And a textiles major
>Fleur de Lis' sveltve physique curls seductively against the side of the piano
>Her low top and tight pants catch the eyes of every man in the party
>And more than a few women
>Her friends meander in close proximity, casting suspicious glances around the whole room
>"I'm taking that boy home tonight, girls."
>Fleur clarifies just how that will happen by tugging her shirt just a further smidge down
>A thin ring of black lace is exposed over her chest as her covering grows more and more scant
>A few jaws hit the floor
>"Well WE'VE tried Fleur. That little mosquito keeps smacking us with books whenever we get his attention!"
>Their scornful glares turn to the least enthused member of the party
>Moonie sits by the brick fireplace, her head sticking out of her sweater like a turtle
>Just enough that she can read her latest tome
>Every now and again, the pink and purple turret swivels around to keep tabs on its charge
>Fleur's friends recoil in disgust
>"She's so effing GROSS Fleur! And I think she smells."
>"Where you have failed my dears, I'm just the kind of girl to blow him away."
>The model slash student tosses her platinum pink locks behind her head
>"Watch and learn."
>She struts across the room with all the grace and poise of Aphrodite herself
>Men stand drooling and incapable in her path, only pulled out of the way by the interference of furious girlfriends
>Her journey comes to a stop in front of you
>The teammate you've been having a conversation with goes slack-jawed, backing off in amazement when he sees just where Fleur is looking
>She hands you a drink
>A saccharine smile adorns her face, and her arms squeeze her buxom chest to new heights of allure
>"Hey there Anon. You played /great/ today."
>Oh shit. New drink
"Damn straight gurrrl!"
>You pound it down
"Big gracias for that, amiga. It's been like... two minutes since I've had one."
>What was her name again? Floaty? Flour?
"Uh... Flower Dolores, right?"
>"Fleur de Lis..."
>She steps in, eyes raking over your chiseled chest
>Bitches have been doing that ever since you got that dragon tattoo
>And that snake tattoo. With the fire and dragons on it
>"I... /love/ these designs. Are you a tattoo kind of guy?"
>Moonie stews by the fireplace, frozen from action
>The other girls had been nuisances
>This one is a true threat
>She is paralyzed with indecision
>Hoping desperately for you to stay true
"Tattoos are fuckin' bomb. So yeah, I guess you could say that. They look great on..."
>You swing your arms up and flex
>Your pride and joy biceps swell, inflating two tribal tattoos
"THESE GUNS!"
>Fleur giggles at your joking
>Which you don't get, since you were being serious
>Oh well
>"I have a tattoo, Anon."
"Where at my zigga?"
>Fleur looks from side to side conspiratorially
>She turns around
>"Right on my tush."
>What? On her BUTT?
>That's RIDICULOUS!
>...
>Wait...
>Her butt...
>Not Moonie's butt?
"Are you hitting on me? Don't think for a second-"
>Time slows to a crawl
>In slow-mo, you see Fleur's fingers tug on the hem of her pants
>Just as a hardback copy of an astronomy book blasts her head
>Fleur's face crumples in perfect replay cam detail
>Moonie's form is flawless as she follows through with the attack
>She stands proudly over the groaning hussy clutching a bloody jaw on the floor
>Men swarm to her rescue as Moonie steps back to her alcove
>But you stop her with a hand on the shoulder
"Thanks for saving me from that seductress."
>"Y-yeah."
>Sadness is evident in her tone
>She isn't even a LITTLE drunk!
"You're not having fun, are you?"
>"Don't be silly Anon. I am happy to help you celebrate your athletic accom- EEEEEK!"
>Too much nerd talk, too little happy nerd
>You sweep her off her feet and carry her right out the door
>you'll get your shirt later
"I want to celebrate with my G. Meaning geek. Not with girls who are after the D."
>Your inebriated mind, chugging as it is, finds some issue with that reasoning
"But like, it's fine that you want the D though. You're a G that wants the D. Which is definitely gucci with me."
>"And you're leaving the party just for that?"
>Truth be told it was a poppin' party
>But it's hard to be poppin' when your girl isn't poppin'
>Solution? Pop your girl!
"Yeah. Shit party anyways. Let's order some beer and pop open a pizza and crop- stop- bopulate-"
>"C-copulate. Why must every reconciling interaction of ours involve this?"
>H-hey!
"You sshtart it more than half the time, young lady."
>You wag your finger in front of her face obnoxiously
"If you're... buttmad... stop getting buttdevastated."
"Butt.. fine! We'll jut do normal stuff. Even though I want to *hic* shelebrate... on those fat tits!"
>...
"Moonie?"
>"Yes, Anon?"
"You're way hotter than Fleur and her friendsh, you know."
>Perplexion meets your unfocused stare
>"N-no I'm not."
"Sure they're tall and slender and busty and shit. But they're not cute and squishy."
>You squeeze her through her sweater
"But mosht important... they're not my smart little Moonie"
>She chokes on your breath
>"You're so drunk!"
>That you were
>Later that night, you wasted no time having your own celebration
>You got straight to the hardcore snuggling before you passed out
---Episode 5: The Football Fusiliers---
>Be Moondancer
>Unfortunately, class is out for today
>At least your thaumatological vector calculus class
>Riveting stuff
>Luckily, there's more calculus and fluid mechanics in two hours!
>Anon said he would meet you by the bike rack with some lunch
>For whatever reason, the football team has practice today. He texted you to let you know he'll be running a bit late
>Just as you're about to dig into some study material for your next class, a handful of girls who call themselves your "classmates" waltz up to you, leaning on the wall and bike rack casually
>At first, you disregard them
>Maybe if you don't pay any attention to them they'll leave you alone
>But Sour Sweet notices a droplet of sweat trek down your forehead
>As seconds turn to a minute and they haven't done anything, you feel your skin heat up under your sweater
>You try to look up from your book discreetly, but the ringleader of your torment catches your eyes and waves, smiling and greeting you with a voice saturated in sickly sweet venom
>"Hey there, Moondancer!"
>Her friends step out from the wall and rack, forming a semicircle around you
>No way out
"H-hey girls... what are you doing?"
>"Nothing! Nothing at all dearie!"
>Sour taps her chin and looks up as if she was thinking
>"But then, what are you doing? Are you waiting for someone?"
>Oh no...
>This is what they're gonna harass you with today? Your boyfriend?
"Nobody, Sour. Just leave me alone. Please?"
>She erupts in bellowing laughter with the rest of the wolfpack
>"Leave you alone? We just want to talk!"
>"Affirmative," Sugarcoat adds, "I was curious in particular about your significant other."
"My-"
>"I'm surprised you would grab someone so unintelligent. Desperation perhaps?"
>A few of the girls chuckle
"That's not true!"
>"If you're waiting up on him, don't count on him showing up anytime soon. Maps have words, you know." Indigo points her thumb behind her
"He will! Soon..."
>"Oh! So you /are/ waiting on Anon."
>Sour's got you now
"W-wait I-"
>"What do you see in him? Is it just the meat? You really think someone that stupid wants anything more than a cheap fuck?"
>Sugarcoat nods along
>"They say /all/ of the football players end up sleeping around at /some/ point."
>You clutch your book to your chest in desperation
>Anon? He would never!
"Stop it! You're just trying to-"
>"Mess with you? Moondancer, you're going out with a braindead jock. The only thing he understands is sex. And maybe basic arithmetic, since he's a quarterback."
>Sour Sweet butts back in
>"Oh, don't be so mean, girls! I'm /sure/ he loves her for more than just her body! Well..."
>She waves a hand to gesture to your entire body
>"Just look at her. I don't see much to love."
"I-I'm not fat! I'm just a little-"
>"Come on, hit the treadmill Moon! It's not like..."
>Indigo Zap's cruel voice fades away when you spot Anon in the distance outside of the circle
>You lock eyes, and he scowls
>Does... does he think you're hanging out with them?
>He stomps away behind another building
>There won't be any rescue today
>The abuse just keeps coming
>And coming, and coming
>You don't know when, but you start to cry
>Little sniffles, but soon you're bawling
>These girls are ungodly brutal! Why would they say such things?
"G-guys *hic* p-please-"
>"Oh, shove it! You know what we're saying is- FUCK!"
>What they're saying is fuck?
>You look up
>And you see a miracle
>Indigo Zap rubs her head and turns around just in time for another football to smack her right in the skull
>"Fucking hell!"
>"Nice fuckin' shot brah!"
>He... he's back!
>Anon and...
>Almost the entire team!
>Like a disciplined rifle battalion, they let loose a barrage of highly accurate throws, pelting your bullies with once powerful throw after another
>It only takes a few seconds for them to shatter under the withering fire, fleeing every which way
>The team breaks off to collect the balls or follow them
>Anon runs to you
>"Moonie? Are you okay?"
>His breathy baritone is like sweet medicine to your pain
"Oh Anon!"
>You throw yourself into his waiting arms where he swings lightly back and forth
>"Shh... shh..."
>A rough and calloused hand wipes a few tears from your cheeks
>"Hey. Hey. Look at me."
>You comply
>"They won't bother you anymore, alright?"
>There's no feeling of safety like that guarantee
>His voice, unwavering and assured, backed by the loyalty and energy of his friends and teammates
>You can't keep looking at him lest you wail again, this time out of relief and love
>So you nuzzle your head into his chest
>He kisses you on the forehead and leads you away from the bike racks toward the quad
>Cherry blossoms still in bloom
>His muscly arm draped gently around you, as careful as one might handle a glass doll
>He remembered your favorite. Lettuce, avocado, tomato, and zucchini
>He always said it was a weird sandwich
>"This is some pussy-ass vegetarian shit just FYI" you remember him last
>But he brought it for you whenever you asked
>Just like he does today
>Maybe he isn't a genius
>His vocabulary isn't too expansive
>But when you dig into the brown sack for your meal, you spot a note
>Written so simply, in his spartan style
>But with love all the same
>"For my Moonie pie"
---Episode 6: Studying---
>Be Moondancer
>Tomorrow is your first math midterm out of a half-dozen
>And you've been deep in your books almost daily for three months
>Anon has to present a powerpoint on a famous inventor
>Oh no, not for just one class
>It's his /only/ exam
>"Hey! It's not like this is easy for me. I've been arborly preparing my speech for like... a day now!" he countered when you nearly burst out laughing
>And once you reminded him of the word "ardently," you realized how futile trying to enlighten him would be
>He left your apartment two hours ago when you asked for some time to study
>Even though you know your material forwards and backwards, it doesn't hurt to give it just another review!
>Until...
>KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
>There's no doubt in your mind as to who it could be
>"Moo-oo-nie! It's me!"
>In the pause you are shocked not to hear the tumblers of your door lock announcing his entrance
>Well, this is a first
>You go back to the book
>Maybe he'll realize you have important business to attend to and no time to goof off!
>...
>...
>You clamber silently across the floor and check the peephole
>Anon is leaning up against the wall, whistling a little tune to himself and holding a box under his arm
>There really is no getting him to quit, is there?
>You make as little of a show as possible unlocking the door and waving him in
>"I promise I won't get in your way my dear. Just wanted to keep my Moonie pie..."
>He cradles the box of chocolate marshmallow candy
>Moon pies?
>"Company!"
>There's no way he just came here to make a pun... right?
>Be Anon
>You came here to make a pun
>Ah, but Eau de Nerd wafts over your nostrils, and that succulent taste invites some less wholesome intentions
>Oh, and the fact that she never wears a bra when she's in her room
>You often find yourself wishing you had sweater x-ray vision
>Alas...
>You follow her inside, swearing on anything and everything that you won't directly pull her away from her work
>And that's no lie! You have no intention of pulling her away from the books /herself/
>But the poor girl studies too much, and stress is unhealthy and shit, right?
>At first you stand in the corner
>You grab a spare rolling chair and sit down, opening the box
>The first moon pie is popped into your mouth, and oh how delicious it is
>A tough outer shell with a gooey, sweet inside
>It reminds you of someone you know
>In fact, it reminds you so much so that it gives you an idea
>You roll beside Moonie, feigning great interest in her work
>"You said you wouldn't distract me. You know I have a midterm tomorrow."
>She doesn't even look up from the book
>The warning in her tone is evident, so you don't push it
"I just want to see what you're working on. Besides, it's not like you don't know it already, right?"
>"Hmph."
>Tolerance. Not eager, but you can work with it.
>You pop another moon pie into your mouth and offer the next. She waves it away in a huff.
>So you take the pie meant for her and hold it up to your lips
>And lick it
>The taste is quite nice, so you lick it again
>And figuring how lovely it is to see it a bit moist, you continue to lick it, slowly and passionately
>Perhaps a bit curious as to why she doesn't hear chewing, she looks over at you
>You cease licking
"What?"
>"Anon..."
"I like moon pies. Go on, keep studying."
>Next, you start sucking on it
>Letting it slide past your lips, and giving it a little bit of tongue
>She looks over once again, her train of thought disturbed and unfocused by the lingering moon pie affair on her mind
>"Anon...?"
"What can I say? I like Moonie pies" you counter defensively
>You spot a faint blush grow on her cheeks
"I mean moon pies. Easy to mix up."
>"Yeah... right."
>She tries to get back to studying, but ever ten seconds or so she's glancing back to see what you're doing
>And you've moved on from sucking, now
>You slowly bite down on a third of the pie, savoring the feeling of your teeth sinking into the squishy white core
>You swallow the detached third and examine the now-exposed pie
>"A-Anon?"
>She's off her game; she tugs at her sweater, and the nervous tic she's normally so cognizant to suppress tells all
"These moon pies are just... so soft and tender, you know?"
>You prod the white core with the tips of two fingers
"Once you get past the shell, it's almost like it's naked."
>Moondancer sits perplexed and anxious at the edge of her seat, desperate to follow your trailing, distant voice to a conclusion
>She hangs on every word of your slow and metered speech
>You penetrate the white core with your fingers and rub up and down with all of the room available in the center of the shell
"So sensitive..."
>So entranced by your performance, she fails to notice your other hand slither up the inside of her sweater
>"Aah~!" she squeaks in shock as your fingers capture and rub one of her oh-so-sensitive nips
>And when you continue, she mewls softly and shifts in her seat, just so she can say she fought it
>You lean in, your face mere inches from hers, staring into those bewildered purple orbs
"But you can never get the full experience just by touch."
>You bring the partially-eaten moon pie to your mouth
>Moondancer takes a deep, hitched breath as you hand starts to creep down her body, tugging at the hem of her underwear
>You slip your tongue into the ivory center of the pie, taking in the sweet sensation as you trace the letters of the alphabet in the movements of your appendage
>And she sinks into her chair, tension melting out of her muscles when your left hand reaches its target and gets to its gentle work
>She groans out between labored breaths
>"Y-you're so lewd... I was ssstudying~"
>You drop the pie and lean further forward, gingerly biting down on her earlobe to a sharp gasp
>She quivers in her seat when your rich, bassy hum caresses her ear
"I'm just really, really hungry for..."
>You let her hang on that, and then whisper
"...Moonie pie."
>All at once, she bursts away from you, kicking her seat to the other end of the room
>She shoots out of her chair and yanks her sweater over her head and throws it on the bed
>One arm cradles her juicy naturals while the other points at a desk drawer
>"I already know the material. Further studying is redundant. Protection is third drawer down.
>You love moon pies
---Episode 7: Meet the Baronets, Part 1---
>Be Moonie
>And be incensed. Excited. Confused. And unused to such a thickly-attended "social" thing
>"THERE HE GOES, CANTERLOT'S DUAL-THREAT QUARTERBACK SHOWING CLOUDSDALE POLYTECHNIC-"
"Dual-threat! Dual-threat! Twilight, what does that mean? Is that him?"
>"...JUST BARRELING THROUGH THE DEFENSE LIKE A FREIGHT TRAIN, BY GOD CAN ANYTHING STOP HIM?"
>"Um... dual-threat... let's see... let's see..."
>Twilight thumbs through a mint rulebook for an informative reference.
"He's running towards their rectangle. Is that the points rectangle?"
>Other spectators hoot and pump their fists, crowding the stands even further with their passionate rumbling
>"It means he's running to get the points!"
>"I THINK THAT'S-... AND HE JUST SLIDES PAST! CANTERLOT'S SECRET WEAPON HAS A CLEAR RUN!"
"GOOOO ANON! GO TO THE POINTS PLACE! HIT THE HOME RUN!"
>Your shouts are mercilessly drowned in the expanse of hyped-up spectators. Both of your foam fingers wave back and forth as you spaz out in ignorantly ecstatic romantic support
>There he goes! He crosses into the points rectangle!"
>"THERE IT IS! CANTERLOT HAS IT ALL NOW! TOUCHDOOOOOOOWN!"
>Your first instinct is to scream like the devil. Your second is to weave past the throng of people to get down there as soon as possible
>Neither of those afford time to check on the dull buzz of a text alert coming from the phone in your pocket
>"Space opened up on an earlier flight. We shall arrive tonight, dear."
>"We've just landed dear. Is your battery empty?"
>That's the line that goes unnoticed when you get to the party
>"We got our rental car."
>And that little buzz punctuates leaving out the back with a certain star player
>"Your father and I are at the hotel. Please call us once you charge your phone. I know how studious you can be!"
>"Hey Moonie-pie, your ass is vibrating."
"Th-that's just b-because..." you struggle and strain with a reply as he kneads the booty like a world-champion baker, causing you to tremble and shake under a stairwell in the house of whatever fraternity is throwing the victory party
"Guh~"
>"Good morning, Moondancer. We will be arriving to pick you up for breakfast in a half-hour.""
>"Moonie, your butt's buzzing again. I think it's your phone"
>You check for the sole purpose of proving to Anon that "jiggle" and "buzz" or "vibrate" are not interchangeable words
>Not that you would ever ascribe the word "jiggle" to your own features
>That's what party girls with bad grades do!
>Regardless of how sore you are, and whether or not that betrays your self-delusions, you reach into the back pocket of your sweatpants, pulled as far down your thighs as Anon had the patience to yank
>Each text another nail hammered
>Be Anon
>Experience the soul-sucking emptiness of your loving lady NOT indulging Early Morning Cuddle Times™
>Moonie rolls out of bed, landing on the floor with a dull thud
>Clamoring to her feet, she waddles to her desk with her pants pulled tight down to her knees
>The unenlightened soul would blame the bathroom
>But you revel in your exclusive knowledge of just what caused even more butt devastation than bad tacos
"Going somewhere love?"
>"THISISADISASTERINEEDTOGETFRESHENEDUPBECAUSEOFFAMILYOHGOODNESSGRACIOUS"
>Women
>You slip your own boxers back on
>And once you hear the water running, you dive into her drawers
>She bolts back out with her pants up and teeth brushed right as you zip up your duffel bag, now one pair of used panties heavier
"So is there like, an exam today or something babe?"
>"MY PARENTS ARE COMING!"
>In a dizzying display of hustle she arranges her nicest clothes on a desk, mulling over the options
"That's... that's..." you stutter with wide eyes
>She nods, pleased that you seem to understand the gravity of the situation.
>"Yeah. That's-"
"...What she said!"
>She offers in return the purest and most distilled glare of frustration as you double over in uproarious laughter
"Geez... did... did..." you wheeze
>She groans and begins to disrobe
"D-did you switch your funny bone..."
>Tosses her sweatpants on your face
"...With my bone!?
>When you overcome the bursts of giggling and hiccups and pull away the sweatpants, she has, to your must utter disappointment, put on her nicest clothes
>And you don't get why people think "nice" and "conservative" are the same
>Like, isn't the best schoolgirl outfit the one with the TINY skirt?
>"Listen Anon. I am /very/ sorry about this, but THEY make YOU a problem!"
"What? Moi?" you croak as innocently as possible, slowly closing her underwear drawer behind you
>"Twilight told her parents about you. And since they're in the same circles as MY parents, they know I have a boyfriend."
"So their little girl is all grown up now. Big whoop."
>You dig around the sheets for your shirt
>"Well... about that," she pushes her fingers together
>You pull your VP-69 shirt out of the pile of musky bedding
>Ever since your dad got it for you at an airshow it's been a prized possession
>"Maaaaaaybe Twilight stretched the truth about you a little."
"And?"
>"And maaaaaybe her mom might have embellished to mine."
>She shoves her wallet in her pants and walks over to the door
>"Well... um... maybemyparentsthinkyou'realawstudent! Let me try to take care of this! Uh... Twilight will call you!"
>Moondancer right well tears the door off of its hinges on the way out, letting it slam behind her
"Law student? Pfft."
>You take your time collect your things and leave
"Fuck the police."
>And help yourself to one or two more pairs of undies
>By the time you're down the stairs and on the way to frat row, your phone starts buzzing like mad
>Five long texts from Twilight
>Blah blah blah, panic panic panic
>Ah, something useful!
>"I just talked to Moondancer about this and I think it would be in all of your best interest to just pretend you're a law student while her parents are here."
"What?" you whisper under your breath
>You text back,
"Why can't she just tell them I'm NOT a law student and that you lied?"
>"I didn't lie! All I did was make you look good."
"I already look good. What's wrong with me being an average joe?"
>"No, Anon, you're just not really the kind of guy they would approve of."
>You slap your forehead
>Finally! All of the pieces are coming together
"OH OK so Moonie's parents are chinese and don't want her to date a white guy?"
>"Moondancer is caucasian."
"But what if she's adopted?"
>Twilight apparently just gives up and calls you
"Yello."
>"Anon. There's no way around this, but Moondancer's parents are paying for her to go here. They're some pretty upper-crust people and they think she's dating a... an intellectual."
"Go on."
>"If they think she's dating someone... err... not smart, they might threaten to stop giving her money!"
"So we don't want her parents to think I'm stupid."
>You rub your neck nervously
>Why does this shit always bite you in the butt?
>"...yes. Just get some nice clothes on and meet me at the library. They're gonna want to see you and we need to make a good impression."
>Regents Library
>Operation: Not to be a dumb fuck
>"I meant something more along the lines of a polo, Anon."
>On TV you saw all the people doing the draft picks wearing suits. Might as well try to look good like them, for them
"Well, it's not bad, right?"
>Much to the contrary. It fits your body well with enough room where room is needed, and falls in where the fabric should hold to your body
>And most of all, it makes you look huge
>Huger
>"It can be worked with. Anyways, you know your backstory?"
"Yeah, yeah, law student. Right. I know what that is."
>What is she thinking? As if you didn't grow up learning law in the State of San Andreas
>"Are you sure?"
>You lean back in your chair, balancing on the two rear legs because that's what hard motherfuckers do
>And lawyers. Lawyers sit in lots of chairs so they must be good at that type of thing
"Listen: I have this shit on permanent lock. Next?"
>"Do you know the names of her parents?"
"Never talks about 'em" you shrug
>"Seneschal is her father. Wuthering Lows is her mother. Both of them have peerage. Do you know what that means?"
>Now that's a new word! Hmm, Moonie taught you how to do this
>Root word
"Her mom has a dick, or like...?"
>"No, they're..." Twilight begins, in the same fashion as a special ed teacher might coax a chromosome hurricane
"Do they both pee sitting down?"
>"It means they're sort of like royalty. Just don't be a slob. Don't be stupid. Alright?"
"Why do I have to deal with princes and shit? What you're saying right now is-"
>"Calm down. This will be easy. You're great with people, right?"
"Oh how the little piglets would grunt if they knew how the old hunk suffered!" you wail to the heavens
>Loud shushes swarm your eardrums, nothing too unfamiliar
>"Moondancer just texted me. They visited her room and now they want to meet you at Hoity's."
>Fuck yeah, free bread!
---Episode 7: Meet the Baronets, Part 2---
>Hoity's
>You have been coached that it's like Olive Garden but somehow fancier
>Mother always made you wear your polo when you went on your birthday
>Hard to see how it can get fancier than that
>But now, in possession of a randy-dandy suit, you march in to the nest of the upper crust
>At first glance you are blown away
>Bubble lights meander across the ceiling like streams of the softest light
>Warm atmospheres enclose each table in its warm grip
>Gentle piano notes are picked from a corner, vibrating low under the facades of dignified diners
>You tug on your collar
>It's a bit tight and the room is altogether a smidge too warm
>A finger traces the path of a drop of sweat and sequesters it from your visage
>Anon is not often left on the back foot
>But here you are distant from your element as no other locale
>The fineries and scents choke the air
>It goes down perhaps less like a toxin, and more of a strong drug against which you lack the acquire taste or resistance
>Your eyes in a single sweep catch Moondancer's unmistakable red and velveteen locks
>She's no longer wearing the dressy shirt and skirt like before
>She wears a piece you've never seen on her
>Surely it's been picked by her parents. It is an all-black affair of a dress, which hugs her body and flows like the softest silken dunes from her shoulders to her shins
>It is obvious that it isn't to her taste; she reclines in it uncomfortably. You can tell it showcases her somewhat extra weight too openly to her liking
>Or perhaps, too, she is not yet immune to the air
>She locks eyes with you and cocks her head, gesturing for you to come and for mother and father to behold
"Here goes nothing."
>Her parents double-take as you walk over
>You pull out a seat for yourself and rake your gorgeous head of hair
>You got the hairstyle from some war documentary you saw once
>The one with the Nazis that invaded Pearl Harbor or something
>The arms of your suit strain to withhold the awesome power of your wicked 'ceps when you pull out a seat and plop down
>"Mother, father, I would like to introduce you to my romantic partner."
>Her mother looks like almost as much of a fucking nerd as Moonie
>Just a stuck-up nerd. Like a nerd that thinks they're really cool
>She winks at her daughter
>"Interesting..." she intones in a heavy Prench accent
>Daddy is a wispy-ass looking toff motherfucker
>Doesn't look like there's been any meat on those bones since Neighitnam
>If they're ever gonna be your in-laws, you KNOW you have to get him to lift
>It's just gross otherwise
>He just straightens his tie and sneers, wobbling a thin silver line over his lip
>"Mother, father, Anon. Anon, Baron Seneschal and Wuthering Lows."
>...
>Oh fuck, courtesy
>You zip to your feet and bow
"My lords."
>Mother coughs and waves away your bow, instead offering a hand palm-down
>You remember this from the movies
>Some dude kisses the hand of a cute girl
>But she's not a cute girl. She's royalty
>You must be missing something here!
>Aha! The royal handshake. Of course!
>You place your hand palm-up beneath hers, offering a dainty handshake that's been flipped on its side
"It is the highest honor, Lordess."
>"Quite..."
>Shaking Seneschal's hand is an easier task, but you don't notice Wuthering Lows wipe her hand on a napkin
>You take your seat for real now
>"A little lacking on protocol, are we?" father remarks dryly
>"Father!" Moondancer scolds
>She gulps when he turns his steely gaze on her, and she stutters to justify herself
>"Well it's just that um... Anon spends so much of his time studying law that his courtesies are... rusty."
"Exactly. I can spend whole days in the... law zone."
>Time to start whipping out those fancy words that Twilight taught you!
>"Well dear, I'm sure we know someone /else/ who at times struggles with /her/ protocol."
>Mother nudges father and chuckles
>After what feels like eons, Seneschal curls his lip as if to concede the point
>"Perhaps so. It should seem fitting that our darling daughter would find a soul in similar plight."
>"Quite so."
>You shuffle nervously in your seat
>It's go time
"Quite indubitably my good man."
>The two share side-eyes
>Awestruck by your ability to be fancy
"Alas and indeedly that we plight... much the same."
>Moondancer stares at you not quite sure what she is witnessing
>Perhaps you can surprise even her with your ability to adapt
>"Yes... anyhow," mother keeps the ball rolling
>Your display seems to have worked for now
>"Anon, what field of law are you pursuing?"
"I... uh..."
>You go for a glass of water. More time to think
"I want to be a lawyer for police suspects. But for the big crimes, you know?"
>"Big crimes? Do you mean fraud? Tax evasion? Identity theft?"
>You shrug
"I guess it depends. How many stars do you get for those?"
>"Excuse me... stars?"
"Yeah, like..."
>You rack your brain for examples
"If you were to fly over Area 69, that would get you five stars. That's when the FBI comes after you. City cops aren't part of that anymore. So that's like... a big case."
>"Surely you mean Area 51?" Father clarifies
"Never heard of it."
>Mother opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out
>Guess she isn't a law nerd.
"And it's not all big stuff, right?"
>You start gesticulating with your arms
"If you just blow something up that's one star, but if you keep at it, you can get all the way up to six stars."
>You nod, satisfied with yourself
"That's where I come in. I will lawyer for them and get rid of their wanted level."
>"Perhaps... modern criminal law is not in the scope of our knowledge, dear."
>Mother nods in agreement
>"So what do you and Moondancer enjoy?"
>Moonie breathes a sigh of relief and you slap your knee
>Finally an easy one
"Goodness gracious your honors, what /don't/ we enjoy?"
>Your girlfriend appears to rest easier in her seat
>You got this
"We like missionary, cowgirl- HRNGH"
>A nail drives mercilessly into your thigh and your girlfriend shoots you a venomous glare
>"W-we... we do missionary work with... cowgirls. In Appleloosa. For poor girls who do not have families to feed them."
>"Missionary?" mother looks to father. "I don't recall you being the religious type."
>"We go along with it in order to do good things. Because that is what we do. Good, chaste things."
>Father seems to finally appreciate something
>"Yes... it's good that you're staying wholesome. Lots of girls lose their marbles in college."
"Sometimes they lose- HRNGH"
>Moonie interrupts what could've been a funny one
>In immediate retrospect, you see how that kind of humor would be sinful in the eyes of the royals
>The waiter comes by
>The same breed of toff as Moonie's father
>Maybe a little less haughty and prestigious
>"Have the ladies and gentlemen decided?"
>"Lemon verbena cured sea trout. And a bottle of the Fonseca. 1963."
>"The Cote de porc please."
>"R-roast pigeon." Moonie falters for a half-moment, struggling to find the price
>Fancy places don't list prices, because royalty is allowed to haggle
>Or was it that they charge the government directly?
>"And for you, sir?"
"The Saudi fowee grass my good man. Oh, and uh, breadsticks?"
>He stares quizzically
>"Breadsticks, sir?"
"Y'know, the unlimited breadsticks? Yea big?"
>You charade a small basket
"I didn't see it and we didn't get one so I wasn't sure if... it..."
>Murderous eyes bore at your head
>You clap your hands quietly
"Which is what I would say, if we were in a /dirty/ place like... /Olive Garden/. Blech."
>The waiter just leaves
>Moonie swoops in, trying to salvage the great big wreck that is you
>"Aha. You and your... avant-garde sense of humor, darling."
"Thanks dear."
>Father coughs and stares only at Moondancer
>once the wine arrives and is poured, all he does is peer at you through the glass between sips
>Mother shifts in place and crosses her legs
>"So, um... Moondancer dear, how did you come across such a strapping young man?"
>She wiggles her head and winks at you
>It reminds you of grandma blowing you a kiss
>Minus how cute and familiar it is
>In fact, you can hear her voice right now
>"Oh Ah-NON dearie, you be sayfe at y'all's big school now, muffin."
>This is not in the realm of cute
>you just want grandma and breadsticks
>Moondancer nudges you
>Shit! Time to be fancy again!
>What do fancy people like?
"The water polo."
>"In a philosophy class."
>Your choral answers reflect an immediate lack of preparedness
>But this, too, can be spun
>"I... um... what Anon means is..." Moonie begins
>Mother cocks an eyebrow in your direction
>It's disgusting,
>But maybe, just maybe, you can tap into how hot you are
>Get mom on your side
>You lean forward over your thick right arm, glancing both ways surreptitiously
>Moonie says that word means sneaky
"Well..." you begin, words dripping with a handsome college man's charm
>Mother's brow arises once more
"She didn't see me, but I was playing that... smashing water polo recreation with my... acquirances."
>"Acquaintances" Moonie feeds you
"My acquaintances. And I saw this smokin-... intellectually high temperature girl-folk playing the polo. But she only noticed /me/ in our philosophy class."
>Mother stops you
>"Moondancer dear, when did you learn to swim?"
>Fuck
>"Ah... mother... I just... wanted to try... water polo?"
>"But you-"
"But we /really/ met in the philosophy class. She's so cute when she's smart. Which is all the time. Because she's smart."
>"How /romantic/. What happened when you met, dear?"
>"W-well... we discussed the cave. The Allegory of the Cave"
>You were in a cave once at a park. Time for the touchdown!
"Oh yeah. So Moonie was being so smart, and so I wanted to get her attention, so I started talking about the cave-"
>"Yes! And how esoteric his arguments were. I was romantically attracted to him instantaneously," Moonie gracefully cuts you off
>Food arrives
>Holy fuck
>It looks like literal roast anus
>You thought that the sauteed foie gras was some kind of weird salad
>Not some fucking teriyaki meat monster
>What ever happened to wings?
>But everyone else appears delighted with their shit
>Mother and father dig in like royals; slowly, and making dignified noises of approval every time they bite
>Even Moonie doesn't look like she hates herself
>So you just suck it up and slice the damn thing to pieces
>One bite at a time
>But it's so sweet...
>The conversation has died down
>things are almost going to plan
>BZZT. BZZT. BZZT
>You slip a hand into your pocket and look at your phone
>someone from the football team
>It's wings and nachos day after all
>You let it slide and go back to your sweet meat catastrophe
>BZZT. BZZT. BZZT
>Father looks at you
>"Is there someone attempting to reach you?"
>You fumble around, trying to shut it off
"Just the law zone. They need me to do the... law simulator today."
>"Law... simulator?"
"Yeah, it's like for planes, but like... uh..."
>"Please, Anonymous, do take this call if it is so important."
>Gulp
"Nothing is more important than fine dining with my segregated other's parents!
>Father lays down his fork. His chin angles up ever so slightly
>Perhaps so he can look down on you
>"Take the call, Anonymous. It will not offend."
>BZZT. BZZT. BZZT.
>No
>Please, no...
>"Take. The. Call."
>"Seneschal!"
>"Come now dear, this is important for him, right Anon?"
"Yes... indee-diddly my lord."
>You swipe to answer and gingerly lift the phone to your ear
"Feliz navidad good sir. Law man Anonymous at your service."
>"Felicitations. It's felicitations."
>Moonie stares into her food like a Vietnam vet dragged back to Neigh Sanh
>"YO MY MAN 'NON, THESE WAITRESSES ARE HOT AS FUCK, WHERE ARE YOU?"
>You turn away, but your mate's cacophonous voice reaches everyone at your table with ease
"Good sir, I must decline for I am engaged in a social engagement. I can help you with the law simulator later."
>"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? IT'S HELLA BITCHES, HELLA WINGS, HELLA NACHOS AND OUR FUCKING QUARTERBACK IS PLAYING FANCY? YO WHERE YOU AT."
"I believe you have the wrong number and I'll call you back"
>"ANON YOU BETTER NOT-"
>/click/
>Four eyes stare in total disbelief
>Two are looking away, humiliated
>Moonie's face glows red
>her father's with anger
>"Anonymous. Where are you from?"
"Uhh... Canterlot."
>"What district?"
>You suck in some air
"Westside..."
>Father allows his silverware to clang on his plate
>"Your friend says you play football? What are you really studying, Anonymous?" he shoves a bony finger in your face
"My name is Anon and I study law and I do not play sports" you drone, just as Twilight drilled you
>"Liar!"
>He shifts the focus of his anger
>"Moondancer. You have lied to us once. Do not lie to us again. Who is this LOUT?"
>Other tables look on with concern
>"Anon is..."
>Your girlfriend stares at you with a falling face
>"...not a law student. He's a Communications major and he's our university's quarterback."
>Father shoots out of his seat, bringing mother with him by the arm
>"Moondancer! We are leaving this instant."
>"Father! Twilight lied to her parents and the stretched the truth and all I did was-"
>The razors of father's pupils gore Moonie's resistance
>"/Perhaps/ we will continue to fund your education, but /any/ future of yours in /this/ family is in serious doubt unless you fly home with us /today/. Consider your current semester DONE, and whatever relationship you /think/ you have with this imbecile bastard DONE."
>She protests, albeit stunned and ineffectively, and is dragged off before you even realize what is happening
>The waiter slinks over to you, sitting aghast and thoroughly shocked
>"We shall bill Seneschal. But we must ask that you leave this establishment."
>You don't need any more encouragement and you bolt straight out of the door
>You call back your pal, who you're still mad as fuck at
"I need a ride. Right now."
>"Yo what's this-"
>/Click/
>It takes eight minutes for Featherweight to show up with his dad's Camaro
>Eight minutes too long
>"What's the shit my ni-"
"Airport. Now."
>Featherweight thunders down the highway
>His dad's car flexes its mighty muscles, weaving between cars down Airport Boulevard
>"Where do need me to drop you off brah?"
>Fuck
>Airports have lab terminals or something
"I got this. Just get us there."
>You call up Twilight
>"Anon? How did things go with-"
"Moonie's parents are trying to take her back to the royal castle land or some shit. Do you know where she's going in the airport?"
>"Anon!? What the hell is going-"
"Twilight. Where. Is. She. Going."
>...
>"Did... did you call her?"
"Oh yeah, her dad will love that."
>"Hm... They'll let her talk to me. Hold on."
>Click
>You stretch your fingers and grind your teeth while Featherweight signals for the exit into the airport
>Enraged, terrified, and lonely bricks stack in your belly
>Pinpricks of cold sweat drape your forehead
>BZZZZT
>"Air Ixiom."
"Featherweight, Air Ixiom."
>"I got it here."
>He swerves into a rare empty space in the mass of cars loading and unloading
>"Good luck Anon" Twilight sighs
"Yeah, right..."
>You throw open the door and stumble out
>"Get our friend back."
>Click
>Your first attempt at passing through security ends with abrupt refusal
>No ticket, no entry to the terminal
>You lean over the Air Ixiom desk
"I need to, uh... escape, you know? I feel like I'm trapped. Where's a good place to fly?"
>"Sir, we have flights with space available later this evening to Roam-"
"Sold.
"Sir, it's-"
>You throw your wallet on the counter and give her your credit card
>"S-sir, a seat is $650-"
"Come on, I have a lover to catch!"
>Now $650 poorer, you slave through the security line
>A one-way ticket and no baggage catches you glances, but you don't have anything on you
>And you still look fancy as fuck
>And white. That helps
>You barrel through the terminal to the Air Ixiom gates
>Five or six of them
>You scan the crowd for any sign of your beloved
>"Air Ixiom Flight 701 to Canterlot, final call for boarding"
>Shit
>701... 701... there!
>701's gate, as you approach, swirls like a draining tub
>Passengers flow into the jetway one-by-one
>"F-father, you can't do this!"
>You whip around to the source of the tearful protest
>To you it is the sweetest song, a valiant siren calling you
>Moondancer clings to her father's arms, pleading her case through choked sobs
>Mother stands beside nervously, looking over at the service counter's frustrated attendant
>Money and status can only do so much to a timetable
>"Daughter I can and WILL pull you out of here! A little distance will help you think about your priorities!"
>"L-like *sniff* what?"
>He rolls his head and sighs
>"/Studying/, not foolish boys."
>"He is certainly n-not a fool!"
>You gallop to them at full speed, waving your arms
"Moonie! Moonie! M-Moonie's parents!"
>"Anon!" your girlfriend yells, reaching out past her father's sudden defensive arm
>"Security? Hello? Someone!?" Father rages
>Mother waves once, and wrings her hands
>Moonie pushes away from Seneschal and nearly leaps into your arms
>Her wet mess of a face soaks the shoulder of a borrowed suit
>All you can do is savor the feeling of her soft, her love, as long as you can
>She digs into your embrace like an ostrich; clearly her stamina for this fight is running low
>Choking sobs only distract father for a moment.
>"YOU GET AWAY FROM HER RIGHT THIS INSTANT! MOONDANCER, COME HE-"
"Sir." you state forcefully, holding out one arm and ushering Moonie behind you with the other
>For the millionth time today, you have no idea what you're doing or saying
>This is all above your ability
>"YOU GET YOUR FILTHY PAWS OFF MY GIRL-"
>He jams a finger into your face, running into the outstretched arm now keeping him at bay
"Sir, just hear me-"
>"YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR MY DAUGHTER!" Seneschal bellows
>The surrounding transit din hushes to the scene unfolding
>You could hear a pin drop if not for the planes
>"YOU DO NOT DESERVE MOONDANCER."
>Moonie sobs
>Mother dabs nervous sweat
>Father huffs like an enraged bull
>You stand, shocked to silence
>"You are an idiot! You are a fool! I almost cannot believe what I witnessed at lunch today."
>The memory causes you to wince
>"You're a rotten liar! A man of no respect, or upbringing, class, intelligence, or perhaps quite ANYTHING of merit!"
>He points behind you
>"SHE has potential. YOU are DEAD. WEIGHT."
>He is content to twist the knife no further
>You sputter for something to say back at his big, smart face
>"Well? Anything to say for yourself before we leave?"
>You stare at the floor, cut down
>And then at Moonie, looking over fearfully
>That her time is come
>And that yours, together, is over
>Your Moonie Pie
"You're right, sir."
"I'm a dumbass. I play football to pay for college. I'm doing Communications because I can pass half my classes without even showing up."
>You tug the hem of your jacket
"I don't own any actually good looking clothes. All I have is being an athlete, and when I'm done I'm done. I might have however many years, but yeah. Moonie has her entire career."
"She has a lot ahead of her... and maybe I don't."
>The one you so desperately pray can remain your girlfriend slinks over
"Even if I succeed I won't be able to say I actually did anything for the world. She will."
>Her fingers mesh with yours
>Her mouth is agape at your words, even through her weeping
"She's so smart, sir. I know you /think/ she's smart, but let me tell you this: she taught me how to do calc one. Me. Doing calculus."
>Father snorts
"She studies all the time. I try to get her out of her room as much as I can. You know, go out and all that."
>You imagined at first a steely monologue face-to-face with Seneschal
>But your gaze drifts inevitably to Moondancer
>Her eyes catch yours
>Like they first did, and still do
"I don't get it why she gets shy at parties or other stuff with girls. They're pretty."
>Something you always wonder aloud about. This is the first time she doesn't look away
"But... she's... beautiful"
>This you say directly to her
>You're not talking to father anymore
"I love her. I love how cute she is in those huge sweaters. I love how excited she gets about classes and stuff. I love how she kinda sings when she reads out loud, and how frazzled her hair gets and how she doesn't let it bother her. I love how her glasses are just a little too big and keep sliding off her nose."
>You cup her cheek
"I love how patient she is. I love kissing her first in the morning, or when she hugs me real tight when I don't see her coming and she tries to lift me up."
>You swallow
"I..."
>Yours and Moonie's hands are white from your mutual grip
>And you look to her father
"I know that she loves me back. Hell if I know why, I-"
>Moonie quiets you by turning your face and occupying it with a wet, impassioned kiss
>She fills it with all that she has
>Sadness, anger, desperation, love, embarrassment, melancholy
>You have kissed before
>But today she gives you all she has
>Thrown into an all too brief downpour of raw emotion
>She remembers the setting and pulls away, slowly
>Dragging her fingers back across your cheek as sweetly delaying as can be
>How could you live without this?
>"You d-deserve *sniff* me. I don't know if I deserve y-you."
"Moonie-"
>She stops you with another slow kiss, this time retreating deep into the crook of your neck
>Her arms wrap tight around your chest
>Mother prances nervously over to father, whispering into his ear
>They argue in near-silence
>She keeps shaking her head yes
>Him, a no
"Lord Seneschal. Miss Lord Wuthering Lows."
>All you got.
"If you don't think I'm the man for her, then let me prove it."
>Father arches a brow. A first-time in progress
"I can't be in her study group and I can't explain anything for her, sure. But I can love her. Protect her. Provide. Absolutely anything, anything I can do, it's hers."
>Moonie stirs. She looks up at you, a world's worth of affection held behind purple eyes
>"I love you Anon..." she mumbles
"I love you too" you whisper back
>"Anonymous," father barks as mother wipes a tear from her eye
"Yes?"
>He stares
>Mother squeezes his shoulder encouragingly
>"Hmm. Moondancer?""
>"Father?"
>Seneschal grumbles
>"Do you /really/ love this man... /that/ much?"
>"With my whole heart."
>"Oh, honey..." mother coos
>Father throws his hands up in the air
>"Fine."
>You and Moondancer snap fully upright
>"Court with him if you must. We will continue to pay for your studies regardless."
"Sir..." you make sure you heard right
>"Yes! Yes, you all twisted my arm. Now get out of here, go home."
>"Are you leaving?" Moonie asks
>The service desk attendant grumbles
>"We shall leave you both-"
>"And return as soon as we can! The four of us can have a more proper meal."
>Moondancer embraces her parents and exchanges brief goodbyes
>They board just as the door closes on the jetway
>Featherweight takes the two of you back to Moondancer's apartment
>The two of you bubble with excitement the whole ride, holding back only to ensure that what just happened was no dream
>But when you step inside the apartment and lock the door behind you,
>It's real
>You strip off all the fancy-ass clothes
>uncomfortable as shit, and a bit soiled at that
>Now for a new kind of desperation
>Maybe not lust, but absolutely to be close
>You hear your girlfriend (thank god, still) sniffle
"Hey..."
>She wraps you in one of her surprise hugs
>"I *sniff* I almost l-lost *sniff* you!"
"Shh, we're all-"
>Tears well in your own eyes
>You really did come so close to losing it all...
>"Anon...?"
"Hm?"
>"Remove your *sniff* clothing."
>You separate and both strip down
>Moonie pulls you into bed, only to kiss and caress gently, bidding you wrap yourself up with her in the blankets
>And you don't need any further encouragement
>You enjoy your luxury
>Being together. Being so close.
>Trapped together in a warm cocoon of sheets and loose lankets
>And right now, there's no better feeling
>You don't make love that afternoon
>Only put each other to sleep with little kisses and sweet nothings
>A life you want to commit to.
---Episode 8: To Be a Bad Neighbor---
>Be Bon Bon
>And say it three times fast
>Lyra's arms extend with a deep yawn over your shoulder on the bus
>The green-haired girl has struggled fiercely to stay awake on the ride to work today
"Lyra..."
>"I doe... I doe..."
>You peer at her with concern
"Look, you have bags under your eyes!"
>Lyra shrinks from the bright screen of your phone when you try to use the face camera to show off her exhausted state
"Why haven't you been getting any sleep?"
>"Y-you really want to know?"
"Come on, tell your bestest friend in the world."
>You walk a pair of fingers up her leg in a way which invokes suggestion counter to the former statement
>"It's the 'oise..." she yawns once more
"The noise? Is it construction?"
>Lyra shakes her head groggily
>"Nah. It's one of the rooms across from me."
"Who's making noise?"
>"I wish I knew. I thought it was coming from Moondancer's."
"Well... what noise is she making?"
>"Like... a pounding. Rhythmic pounding. Just a constant thump, thump thump."
"Oh my..." you cover your mouth with a hand
>"Yelling too. Moaning, yelling, screaming, the whole nine yards. It's ridiculous."
"Why can't it be coming from Moondancer's room?"
>"Psh," she waves away your suggestion. "I asked her once and she just came out in a onesie holding a textbook. I don't think she's been in the same /room/ as a guy."
>You nod, understanding the implication.
"Vinyl?"
>"Yeah. I'm gonna talk to her and Octy today after I'm done for today. I can't live like this!"
"Of course. Let's just hope they stop."
>...
>...
"Lyra?"
>"Hnnnnnk...." she snoozes from your shoulder
>Well, if things don't change, you'll take it up with Octy and Vinyl yourself!
---Episode 9: Lunar Lift---
>Be Moonie
>and be frustrated, offended, and practically babied!
>UC is an academic institution first and foremost
>Your family expends a fortune in tuition to further your knowledge in the magical sciences!
>And here you sit before the academic advisory board...
>"Miss Moondancer, we understand your concerns. But we cannot set the policy, and the deans /have/ insisted on this requirement..."
>You roll your eyes and huff
>This kind of distraction will surely take away critical study time!
>A part of you believes this is just a bad joke, and that she truly won't confirm that...
>"Unfortunately, you just /have/ to take a fitness to fulfill a degree requirement here."
>A few of the more bookish types smile understandingly
>The others sit, stone-faced and already looking over the documents of their next student in need of help
"Very well."
---
>Be Anon
>you stare dumbfounded at the pile of textbooks on your girlfriend's bed
>"I know your physical abilities far surpass mine. Once you help me lift this weight, it will demonstrate my advanced abilities to the instructor and thus convince her to grant me credit for the course. Correct?"
>Moonie points to the mountain of old and new material
>Easily twenty full course books
>"Is this not the point of weightlifting? I signed up to lift weight. And here it is."
"Uhh..."
>"Anon, I taught you algebra. Can you not do this for me, at least?"
"I just... I just don't think you understand."
>Moonie crosses her arms
>"Then you must teach me how to lift."
>Knots of students dissipate and crowd up against the walls
>Like the Red Sea, the masses split from the sheer force of your formation
>UC's football team in all of its glory
>Modern Spartans to the man
>Ready for war and stalwartly at your back
>Each member commands half of the passageway with their sheer size
>Twenty of Canterlot's best are on the march to the weight room, theirs for the day
>Twenty plus one
>Under your right arm, a jug of pre-workout and a worn duffel bag
>Under your left, Moonie clutches to your bicep, dwarfed and intimated by your entourage
>Everyone knows the plan already on arrival, and the cream of the crop fills the racks, machines, and benches
"I got the music, boys. Hold on."
>You set your things down next to the rack you've saved for you and Moonie
>"Ah... Anon..."
"Hm?"
>You measure out a generous helping of C4 and pound it down
>And a powerade chaser
>"Are... are you sure it's most efficient for me to learn around your team?"
>She rubs her arm, glancing around sheepishly
>Glancing down every couple of seconds at her bit of muffin top sitting on an old pair of high school gym shorts
>The sports top doesn't look new or well-used either
>You take her hands, trying to look sincere while you lick and smack at the C4 powder stuck to your mouth
"Shlisten. Shlifting is all about the hype. You're stronger when there's a bunch of big dudes lifting heavy shit, right?"
>"I... do not believe that theory stands-"
"Shush. Makes you stronger."
>You set up the squat rack for her height, straight bar weight
"So, this is where you squat. It gives you thighs and big badonk. Right?"
>You squish yourself down and pump out a few easy reps to demonstrate form
>"Now you try."
>It takes a few attempts, but Moonie more or less gets it down
>"I can feel my lower body exerting. The lifting is working!"
>You throw up a shaka
"Now let's put some weight and tunes on babe."
>This is it
>The ultimate pump
>She is about to be baptized in the hustle
> [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_wMQhD5aKk [Embed] ]
"Ninety-five. You'll feel some strain just starting out but you got it."
>You put a twenty-five on each side and stand behind her
"Drop it."
>She drops to thigh parallel, shaking the whole way
>"O-ouch!"
>She shivers on the rise
"Seven more, come on."
>The next rep is just as tough
>But she falls in line with the beat by the third
>Every two counts she drops, and comes up
>Both of your hands hover under her ass
>"Is this meant to support me?"
>You snort
"Uh, duh. It's spotting. So I can save you and stuff."
>You think she can pull of eight reps without a struggle
>She doesn't need it
>She racks the bar
"Nice butt. Nice effort. Take a minute and do it again."
>Moonie keels over and takes a deep breath
>"Sure... sure thing."
>You pat her on the back
"Nice work Moonie."
>Nerd-ass math symbols cover the water bottle she takes a deep drink from
>"This isn't music I normally listen to."
> [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ShkxTf5utw [Embed] ]
>Next track shuffles on
"Ready to quit?" you ask casually, warming up on her weight a few times before sticking two forty-fives on each side for the first set
>Moonie gawks at the speed and ease that you pound out those sick ass reps
>Being a fucking leg god you don't blame her
>"Of course not! Let me go again."
>Back to ninety-five
---
>It's been four months
>You and Moonie toss your bags against the wall of her apartment
"195, not a bad PR!"
>She beams back at you, slipping off her shorts and going for her pants
>You're about to make some manner of small-talk when you hear a sharp RIIIIIIIIP
>Your girlfriend stares like a deer in headlights
>Her panicked waddle is too slow
>You maneuver behind her to behold the sight
>One massive rip
>Ground-zero on her ass
>She gapes in horror
>You fight back tears
"They should have sent a poet..."
---Episode 10: ASTR 242---
>Be Anon
>After so many long-ass study sessions stressing over some bullshit numbers and letters,
>You finally pay the price
>Leg day. Leg day was today
>That makes it no easier to lug a giant telescope case up the side of Mount Canter
>Each step is one at a time
>One, two, one, two
>The burn is your friend
>The pain is your friend
>But tonight is special anyhow. You've got a little surprise tucked in a bag under the case
>Moonie struggles ahead, only just in the lead
>With each step she huffs and puffs, and every few minutes stops to catch her breath
>You wait for her at the top, rock and flat
>An old wood bench, thinned down by the elements, rocks freely and neglected
>its concrete base has broken free, and the ratty thing is easily pushed by the wind
>Mount Canter isn't the popular spot some out-of-towners make it to be
>Tonight, it's just you
>"Ok... Anon... we made... it."
>Moonie doesn't have much time to catch her breath
>You set the case down and she gets right to assembling the thing
>Not to say it's all her
>Some of the heavier parts give her struggle; those you take care of
>She gets to calibrating the thing once you're finished up assembling
>And you unpack your own surprise and hide it behind the bench
"I didn't think you'd spring for doing your ass assignment in a place like... on a hill."
>"AssTRONOMY, dear."
"Yeah, whatever."
>It doesn't make her blink anymore
"Is that where the word ass comes from, though?"
>She finishes pointing the scope somewhere in the sky
>"Astron is the Greek word for star-"
"Right, so they meant butts that are as big as the sun, right? An ass."
>Moonie scoffs and returns to her work
>The full moon is high in the sky at this hour. If it wasn't a friday, you'd be in bed already for the morning's team workout
>"The lights don't drown out the sky nearly as much up here. I'll have the best photos."
>"Senpai will notice me. Heh."
"Oh yeah, from your mangos, right?"
>Moonie does what can only be described as a full-facial "grump" in your direction
>"Manga."
"Hi, don't touch my mustache."
>Moonie sighs and puts herself to her work
>Tonight is cloudless, and fully glorious
>Jupiter twinkles high above like a great mount among sparkling island chains
>She takes dozens of photos of the Jovian moons
>Each time, relaying to you every last thing which makes those rocks more special than the other rocks
>"...but what if Europa ends up supporting a more complex ecosystem? Just think of what it means!"
"Space sockeye," you chuckle back
>"That doesn't amaze you? Really?"
>frizzy red and purple whip around with the same level of astonishment
"I guess... I just don't know enough about it to be that special."
>Moonie takes a beat and covers up her telescope
>"Honest?"
>She faces you with crossed arms
>And not enough tolerance to hide the cold
>Wordlessly, you step over and drape your varsity over her shoulders
>"It's only gonna get colder, Anon."
>You sport a half-smile
>You retort, cooly and softly
"I'd rather you be warm."
>As she often finds herself, she's caught between a scoff and a coo, half-bridges leading to blush and obvious diversion in most cases
>"Don't you ever think about stars? Or aliens? Or all the planets out there we could live on?"
>You shrug, and pull her closer so she can draw on your warmth
>She grumbles and wiggles and tucks her back against your chest so she can point out every little thing in the sky
"Way over my head." You try to play it as something below you
>It comes out honestly, wistfully
>"Oh dear, you're more intelligent than you give yourself credit!"
>Hah!
"Not too much."
>You just pull her closer and squeeze her shoulders
>...
>"What do you think about?"
"Uhh... football, your butt. Sometimes if I'm passing or not, but coach takes care of that for me."
>"Wrong, Anon. I'm referring to esoteric subjects. What's your worldview? You've always been tight-lipped and-"
"Football's important shit for me."
>You sound a bit more harsh than you intend to
>She holds her tongue for a moment while you worldlessly zip up the varsity on her
>"I... I know how important that sports are for you, given your financial-"
"That's not what I meant. I mean..." you huff
>She leans her head back so she can look at you
>"What do you mean? What are the /big/ things you think about?"
"Like I said, there aren't any."
>"Nothing about life on other planets? Where we come from? What we're supposed to be doing?"
>You shrug
"I guess I never had the time for it. School for me growing up was like finding out where space is, like all this astro economics stuff."
>"Even when I was a little girl I had my passions. Did nothing catch your interest?"
"Let me put it this way," you root around for the right words, "I didn't have any brain left to spare."
>She raises an eyebrow
"I remember, it must've been ten or twelve years ago... Everyone went to the lake one day."
>It was one of the most perfect summer afternoons in memory
>Even tonight on the top of some chilly mountain you could feel the perfect balance of toasty air and warm sunbeams
>As far as the eye could see, not a single cloud dotted the sky
"Mom kept me in to work on my summer homework. All my friends were done the first week. It took me all day to do the first multiplication tables."
>You sigh wistfully
"I was mad at her, at first. Then I got fuckin' pissed at myself for being so stupid I couldn't even go and run around half of that summer vacation. I couldn't give half a shit about space or sock crates. I couldn't even count."
>"Anon... I never thought..."
>It's your turn for perpelxion
"I'm pretty sure I told you I was a dumb kid, right? I mean before tonight."
>"Yes, but what it... /meant/, I never quite understood."
>She digs into the crook of your neck
>"Hobbies such as this have always been extensions of my passions in learning, not a prison to escape from."
>She rolls halfway on her side, leaning fully into your torso
>"Sorry I pressed it."
"Don't talk crazy. We good in the hood."
>"But it must make you self-conscious to be drilled at on this sort of thing!"
"What, you don't think I'm used to it by now?"
>You pull her tighter, and despite her squirming, trail some marks on her neck
>Always taking the chance to fuck with her
"I don't feel like I'm missing anything. I love you, and football. Which I both do."
>"You're being cheesy."
"Mwa"
>A breeze ushers Moonie closer
"I just enjoy the simple things. Right now? I'm good."
>Some pizza would be nice though
>Moonie's eyes drift back to the cosmos
"You look at space, you be smart. Think about smart shit. I'll just have your back, is all."
>"That's very sweet of you."
"No, I mean it."
>You cup her chin, gazing purposefully into her soulful eyes
"The world's not missing anything good out of me so long as it has you."
>You discreetly dig around in your pocket
"I want to- I mean it makes me..."
>Just as your fingers brush their target, the cavalry of fine words tumbles and crashes in your throat
>Their charge is blunted, humbled. It turns tail to wait for the right day right back down to your gut
>So it can continue to weigh there, just as the weight burns in the pocket of your jeans
>You take a deep breath and a sniff of musky, frazzled hair
>Moonie leans up and kisses you gently on the lips, brushing the fairie warmth of their touch on sensitive skin
>you take your out and return the favor
>You wrap her up and enjoy togetherness, savoring what you have in spite of clandestine defeat
>Not quite yet
>But soon
>And although you admittedly pay it little heed,
>The moon shines down with almost particular - and purposeful - benediction on its namesake
>A wink
---Episode 11: Meet the Anonsons---
>Be Anon's truck
>You're a ratchety piece of shit
>Just having a football scholarship doesn't suddenly make one rich
>Your owner has still, for the most part, been stuck to bootstrapping his meager funds so far at UCanter
>You're also inexplicably more eloquent than Anon
>Who happens to be inside of you with his girlfriend
>Be Anon
>You pull out of the resident storage garage onto Whinneyfield, UCanter's supposedly "popping" throughfare
>Some stuck-up shits blocked all sorts of clubs from moving in, now all that's there is cheap pizza and fuckin' disgusting booze
>But hey, you do what you can
>Moonie jolts in her seat like she's on the epileptic chair every time you shift
"Babe, clunk and rev is badass. And I'm a badass. So I gotta do it."
>"This... cannot have a positive effect on the well-being of your vehicle."
"Fuck possums. If they get on my vehicle I'm just giving them to pops."
>Moonie shifts in her seat at the mention
>You glance over at her
"Nervous?"
>She gulps, clutching her bookbag even closer to her chest
>Fuckin' sweet
>"Y-yes, Anon! In much the same vein that my parents disapproved of you, I'm sure that a similar pattern-"
"Calm your veins. They'll think you're swell."
>You drag a hand from the gearstick to her lap
"And, since you're getting /swole/..."
>"Lewd!"
>Note to self: get a talking pen that says "LEWD"
"Come on. Your parents have like, extractations of your boyfriend or some shit. It's like... different."
>"And yours don't?"
>She eeps when you smack the dashboard and snort
"They like nice girls. You're a nice girl. Come on, they'll adore you, like..."
>You turn on the AC in case your performance heats things up
"You taught me words like... whomst'd'v'te"
>"Not a word."
"I think you'll be surprise by howm'st baller my words are."
>"And that means...?"
>You wiggle your eyebrows
"It's a secret. Secret serval."
>"Secret squirrel, not secret-... how do you know what a serval is?"
"Y'know, servals, like an internet serval."
>"That's a server."
"What does this have to do with restaurants?"
>Your girlfriend takes a sharp breath and sighs
>...
>"So what do you mean "howm'st baller" your words are gonna be?"
>Damn
>You figured doing something stupid would drag her off of that subject
>Works most of the time
>But she's clever
"Oh, I dunno... Just that Twilight's been helping me with some shit."
>She raises a thicc brow
>"And that is...?"
"...a secret.
>She crosses her arms
>No doubt she's impressed by raw fuckin' willpower
>Just five hours of open road ahead of you once you get on the interstate,
>All the way home
>A half-hour out from campus is when the city starts to end,
>And in another half-hour the suburbs die out into broad swathes of wood and farmland
>It's four more after that, silent but comfortable
>Your hand on the stick is held in Moonie's nearly the whole ride
>As you get closer and closer, she grips a little tighter
>You pull off of the interstate and go about five miles up a two-lane road into a little cluster of houses and shops
>It's a two stoplight sort of town, but it's only the nexus of your destination
>The end of your route is down a few dusty intersections and a long gravel path
>Winding through the road, it gets tighter and tighter as blooming trees pull closer and lean over your truck
>Sunlight flickers through the branches and flowers
>At the end of the drive is home
>A broad country house surrounded by low barns of varying size
>The front yard is nearly immaculate,
>And the visible back yard, all gravel, is spangled with old cars and farm equipment
>"A-Anon?"
>You look over to her with a smile
>Nothing like being home
>"I... I don't know about this."
>You set the truck in park and kick in the parking brake
>It rattles and gasps as you rip out the key. Moonie slides down in her seat, hiding her face behind an engorged bookbag
"Why?"
>She gulps, and her voice trembles and shivers in its reply
>"I-I just... y-you know I haven't ''dated'' anyone before. How... how am I supposed to even talk to your parents? How do I make them like me? I don't know anything about them, I'm probably ''nothing'' like them and they'll just wonder what in the world you're doing not dating some college athlete, and then the y-yelling and the-"
>You lean in and cut short her pessimist rant with a sloppy kiss. You lock tightly to her lips, cupping her cheeks and drawing her deeply into your arms
>She responds now as she does always, her soft and dough form losing its tension and melting into the firm scaffold you offer her
"Hush. My parents aren't like your parents. They don't give a shit about what you are so long as you good."
>She can't help but smile as she pulls away and nods slowly. Her hands poke out of her fuzzy sweater arms, and push open the passenger door
>You get out, not bothering to lock the truck out here. Moonie eagerly takes your hand as you lead her to the front door of the farmhouse, framed between a pair of lazy willows
>"And... I'm good?"
>You scoff in return. How such a genius can be such a dummy forever precludes your interovestigative brain
"How many times do I gotta say you're gonna knock it out of the park?"
>You bound up the rickety front porch with girl in tow. She nearly gets caught in the lattice minefield of rotted-out holes in the deck, which in your lifetime you have learned to navigate blind
>She pulls tight to your escorting arm as you rap on the door
"Ma! Pa! It's me!"
>At first, silence
>Then, the riot of a two-person stampede charging through the little abode
>The first parent to the door rips it open
>Mrs. Anonson, with her golden blonde hair piled into a mountain atop her head like some sort of country star and bright blue eyes overflowing with shock squeals and shouts
>She waves her hands in front of her face as her feet tippy-tap in place with unrestrained excitement
>"Oh... oh divine! Oh my dearie, Daddy! Daddy, it's your boy and his gal!"
>Ma crushes both you and Moonie in her burly embrace. It betrays the long years of fieldwork hidden beneath her nice clothes and pretty face
>You pull them both tight into your artillery-sized chest and drop your head into the mess of colorful hair
"I missed you so much, Ma..."
>She steps back
>"Well how do you think ''I'' feel? Oh..." she puts a hand over her heart
>"My little baby. Come on, give your momma a kiss."
>You obey the order of the Ma appointed over you and kiss her on the cheek. In reality it was a ruse, and she pulls in your face to pinch your cheeks and cover them in her own return fire of machine-gun mom kisses
"Oh, Ma, come on, stop it!"
>She chuckles and wipes a strand of her Dolly hair away
>"I earned that, you little fool!"
>All heads turn when Pa steps onto the porch
>His big, stereotypical cowboy hat sits on his head, and a faintly silvering Magnum PI sits like a cool block of iron on his lips
>His arms are crossed over his chest, right atop his sturdy barrel of a chest and farmer's gut, which over the years has been gaining ground on his belt
>Ever the stubborn bastard, he blinks away the faintest hint of mist in his eyes
>The old fool, Pa, with the same fool face
>He extends his weathered, calloused right hand
>"It's good to have you back, Anon."
"It's good to be back."
>You crush each others' hands like you always do
>He grunts and smiles. He can't out-handshake you anymore
>You smirk
>He laughs
>"Will you two dumb men quit your little macho game and acknowledge this gorgeous little thing our Nonny brought home?" Ma chastises
>She takes both of your girlfriend's hands, leaning in every inch that Moonie instinctively pulls back
>"Moondancer honey, we have heard just so ''much'' about you darling! And you are even cuter than the pictures. I don't know how my little boy convinced you to go to all the college dances, or whatever you folks do..."
>Pa laughs, and finishes his wife's sentence. "But by golly, are we glad he did. Come on in, you two. Dinner's on soon."
>Moondancer smiles at you, and the four of you all walk inside.
>Ma is already darting around every room in the house second-guessing her cleaning
>One of your friends told you she seemed “anal retentive” once but you smacked him upside the head for talking gross shit like that about your mom
>Home is just as cozy as you left it
>Just an old, wooden farmhouse type of deal
>The dining room is all set up at the other end of the “family room,” which is just a catch-all for the big space on the first floor with the tables and the TV
>your old cartoon CD’s and VHS tapes are still piled in a box right under the ancient CRT set
>it doesn’t get much use anymore except for reruns of Gunsmoke and Matlock
>It’s a bit chilly in the house. Moonie’s obviously feeling it and she pulls her scarf tight around her face
>but you can tell it’s just as much a habit of nervous retreat from two parents she’s terrified she won’t impress
>you wrap an army tightly around her waist, shooting an encouraging grin
>she “meeps” and tries to tuck deeper into the fuzzy scarf like a turtle
>Pa sticks his thumbs under his belt and looks over
>”What’ll ya have ta’ drink, Miss Moonie?”
>”U-uh… water?” she peeps
>she sounds like she thinks she’ll be beaten over asking for anything at all, like one of those prisoners in the soviet goulash
>Pa slaps his thigh so loud it makes Moonie pop out of her scarf like a jack in the box
>”Water it is!”
>he ambles over to the kitchen where Mrs. Anonson is making final preparations
>you lead Moonie over to the table
“Still nervous and shit?”
>”Well…” she pouts, slinking back into her scarf, “…yes.”
“Oh come on.”
>You peck her on the cheek
“They’re not like your folks. All it takes for them to like you is that I like you. And they’ve got plenty more reasons than that, to flute.”
>”To boot, Anon.”
“Shoes off in the house…” you mutter, mouth suddenly watering at the display on the table
>the whole table is covered from end to end with pulled pork, wings, cornbread, beans, mac n cheese, slaw, fried okra, greens, mashed taters, biscuits, and brisket
>the scent hits you like a wall of smoky, buttery joy
>It appears even Moonie can’t resist; her stomach rumbles and you can hear her take a deep sniff
>Ma storms in from the kitchen, waving her arms at the chairs and making quite the loud fuss
>”Now you sit! Both of you sit now, it’s been so gosh-darn long and you poor thangs have been on the road and it’s time to fill up, my baby darlings!”
>”Come on, git down there!” Pa brings up the rear with two glasses of water. He didn’t have to ask you, since you only drink that healthy clean shit
>gotta feed the body good, since soda clogs your armories
>Pa leads you in short prayer and the feasting begins in earnest
>”So Miss Moondancer, my douarlin’, I’ve heard so much ‘bout you from my little boy but I wanna hear it for myself now. What’s is it that you’re all studyin’?” Ma asks, taking a few conservative bites of pulled pork mixed with chopped up cornbread
>Moonie clears her throat to buy some time
>”Uh… w-well… I study the magical sciences, and um… I… yes. That.”
>Ma tilts her head and grins. Even though she’s heard it all before
>”No kiddin’, sugar? Why, that’s what I done and gone studied in school! I even got my master’s in the sciences ‘fore I settled down out here with Pa!”
>Moonie’s whole face lights up, and she leans in just a little bit, ignoring you as you pile beans and cornbread on her plate to speed up the serving process
>”W-where did you go to graduate school?”
>Ma giggles and strips another wing bare in one bite. “Why, same durn place you and my boy’s goin’! He may be good at throwin’ the ball but he’s a legacy, too!”
>”Y-you’ll have to tell me everything about getting into the graduate program!”
>Your mother scoffs and dismisses this notion with a wave
>”If’n you’re half as smart as my Anon over here says, I got nuthin’ to teach you, least of all since it’s been a good twenty years or so since I’d been!”
>Moonie looks on mystified, and you recognize the intent in her eyes. She’s got herself a new mentor whether Ma knows it or not
>Pa chuckles and slaps his knee
>”Now don’t look too shocked now that Ma here’s a bit of a genius! I bet that’s got you wonderin’ about my boy, but don’t worry, he gets his /brains/ from /me/!” and he puffs out his chest
>You, Ma, and Pa all laugh
>”I’m just kiddin’ though, dumber’n’a box a rocks I is, but Ma over here done made him a great deal smarter than /me/,” he winks
>Ma gets a fit of giggles and rubs Pa’s arm lovingly
>Ma really was a genius herself. Pa always told you growing up about how he was a right criminal for keeping such a smart gal around on a farm with him, but anytime Ma overheard him telling those stories, she’d rap him with a spoon and say she’d have it “no gosh-darn other darn way”
>”So how didja two lil’ lovebirds meet?” Pa asks
“Shwell…” you start, forcing a glob of mac and cheese down your throat, “I shwas in this math class, right?”
>”Calc’alus one, was it dear?” Ma asks
“Right. Second attempt on that hellscape. Moonie had to take it because her credits from high school didn’t carry over the right way or something like that, and so when I showed up on the first day, I look in…”
>You glance over at Moonie, whose cheeks flush red at the impending story you love to tell.
“I look in, and there’s this seat wide-open right next to the most /gorgeous/ woman I’ve ever seen, and so naturally I take it.”
>”And so what,” Pa smirks, “you was thinkin’ you’d just sit next to a pretty girl instead of passing your classes?”
>Even Moonie giggles
“Well that was the plan, until she turned out to be a giga-nerd genius. She said I “made a flockery of calculus” whenever she looked over at the problems I did in my notebook.”
>”A mockery, Anon.”
>Ma and Pa burst out laughing
>”Ah think… heh, I think she had the right idea son!”
>Moonie’s cheeks burn red. “W-well...”
>Ma and Pa fall silent and look over, eager to hear her side of the story
>”I… I didn’t really know how to talk to… guys, and well, his calculus /was/ bad, so I thought if I helped him he would talk to me…”
>Ma coos and laces her fingers with Pa’s hand. “Now that is the sweetest durn thing I ever heard!”
>Your girl mumbles from beneath her scarf as she retreats in nervousness
>”H-he’s really handsome… I just really wanted to t-talk to him.”
>You lean over, nearly tipping your chair in the process, and slap a big wet kiss on her cheek. Ma and Pa laugh at Moonie’s flustered reaction, but somehow it doesn’t shut her out or cause her to keep retreating
>And as dinner goes on, she starts to feel a little bit more comfortable. With Ma, talking about graduate studies, and with Pa telling her how good she’s been for you and how glad they both are that you found each other
>Even when the whole setting is devoured, the four of you sit there talking for a whole extra hour
>You can’t help but plaster a dumb smile on your face watching your girl be so gregarious with your folks
>You’d told her that your parents would love her, and what happened?
>Ma and Pa are fawning all over her and she looks like she’s never had to handle it before!
>Dinner winds down, and Ma and Pa take the dishes in. You help Pa clean up, as is your station in the Anonson household, while Ma and Moonie chat about the finer points (or “fahner” points as Ma says) of the high sciences at the table
>But it’s late, and things wind down. Ma and Pa excuse themselves to bed early, since it’s been a long day of preparation for them
>Tomorrow will be full of adventure on the schedule, no doubt
>You and Moonie are left alone at the bottom of the stairs. Up on the second floor are yours and your parents’ bedrooms and the guest room
>Covertly, you tap your pocket
“Hey. Wanna see something before we go to bed?”
>She nods. It’s your place, and she’s following your lead after all
>You take her by the hand out the front door and off the porch, around the back and past the patio into the fields
>Even in the dark, the twists and turns and holes and old fence posts in the fields are child’s play to navigate around. You could do it with both eyes closed walking backwards if you wanted
>All the while, your lovely nerdy girl is staring up at the cloudless night
>A night, perhaps, so picked for that quality
>All the stars and a glittering full moon spangle the sky from end to end,
>not a single polluting light for miles and miles around
>”I don’t think I’ve ever seen the sky this clear! Oh, all the observations I could be making! I should’ve brought my scope… and my camera! And the good camera!”
>You just laugh and continue leading her through the high grass
>You emerge in a clearing, set up in advance when you slipped out during the dishes with Ma and Pa’s help
>An old telescope and two hay bales for seating, gently lit by an oil lamp propped up against a log
>Moonie gasps, and her hands and too-long sweater sleeves clasp over her mouth
“I knew you’d love the view out here.”
>She takes a deep breath, and leans into you
>you return a fierce, loving kiss and accept her warm hug
>”Outstanding… what outstanding condition this is for its age!” she babbles, inspecting the scope from top to bottom
“I’m glad it’s held up,” you delay, steeling yourself and remembering all the right words
>In her inspection, she notices a neatly-folded piece of paper taped next to the eyepiece
>”Did you leave… this…”
>her words fade away as she reads the handwritten note
Take my hand and dance with me
Under the stars where we may be free
Let the moonlight shimmer over your beauty
With nobody else would I rather be
You fill the void that draws so near
And clear the air of all my fears
You do so fill me, to brim with joy
I pray your love is not some ploy
Among tomes and tatters your form does rest
Inside that hovel I do detest
It keeps you from me and from my arms
I do so wish to be graced with your charms
But lo, for you do stay inside
Away from me so I shall hide
Outside your sill till evening rest
And watch you lay once more to rest
Careful I shall ever be
To refrain from gaze of eyes that see
I must watch you through that shallow glass
Until the night has come to pass
And once day rises yet again
I shall escape back to my den
I find myself sitting then
Basking in memory of your visage once again
>Tears flood her eyes
>she runs back over to you and tries to crush you in yet another hug
>On any normal night you would counter-hug and see who could hug each other best,
>For now, you take a step back and take her hands in yours
“Hey, listen… I…”
>Suddenly all the right words are gone
>…
>…
>But you don’t need them
>In one fluid movement, you drop to one knee and slide the little box out of your pocket
>Moonie’s quick to realize the play, and her welling eyes soon burst with a loud sob as soon as you reveal the humble diamond ring inside the velvet case
“I love you, Moondancer,”
>She sobs and hiccups at the same time
“I-… I love you more than everything in the world, Moonie. I want to be with you forever.”
>She pulls her scarf down from her face and tires to stem her tears on the sleeves of her sweater
“Will you be my wife?”
>Through her face, strewn with tears and beet-red with emotion,
>she summons her deep inner will and wipes away some the watery streams
>In her eyes which you meet, are the loving reservoirs of infinite affection
>You have never felt so close, so loved, so wanted and so viscerally understood by anyone until this moment
>”Y-yes *hic* yes Anon! I love you! Yes yes yes!”
>As soon as you’re on your feet, she nearly knocks you right back down again as she leaps into your arms and machine-guns you with sloppy kisses
>Tears drawn from the corner of your own eyes as you gleefully return each and every one of them
>Between each kiss she chokes out a tearful “I love you”
>Returned in kind with your own “I love you’s,” stuck somewhere between ebullient laughter and the chokes and sobs of your own joy
>And so
>There, under an immaculate sky, the moon smiling down
>With all the benediction of heaven
>You and your Moondancer
>Now, and forever.
And once day rises yet again
I shall escape back to my den
I find myself sitting then
Basking in memory of your visage once again