Sunset doesn't like The Happy Mare's Home Journal

Lectern’s New and Used Books, as a hang-out, provided a finely balanced mix of privacy in the midst of a public venue, so long as one exercised a modicum of discretion. This was not at all by accident; the proprietor long since had concluded a clean, well-lighted place for quiet conversation as well as for books contributed, indirectly at least, to his bottom line. So the front sitting room and the back patio drew in students and shoppers, readers and chatters, and most of all the group of teens who’d befriended one of his best customers.
          Said seven girls sat around two of the redwood tables, pushed together on the terra-cotta tiles of the patio, under shade trees and gray but unthreatening skies. They regarded Sunset Shimmer expectantly as she pulled from her bookbag a parcel wrapped in kraft paper and string. All of them, not just the recipient, had come to enjoy the weekly ritual of perusing newspapers from Manehattan, Canterlot, and Ponyville, sent by Princess Twilight Sparkle to help assuage Sunset’s bouts of homesickness. The engraved illustrations, hoof-set type, and stilted language seemed charmingly quaint to young women growing up in the digital age, and the stories and advertisements were a window on a breathtakingly different, yet strangely familiar, culture and society.
          While Sunset unwrapped the latest gift package, Applejack tipped her chair onto its back legs and made idle conversation. “Sure am glad Mister Lectern kept Sunny on. I wouldn’ta wanted to be the cause o’ her gettin’ fired.”
          “He’s good people,” Rainbow Dash replied.
          Twilight Sparkle—not the princess, of course—nodded. “He’s the best. He might have called her on the carpet for a few words, but that’s all, and after that he’d ‘forget’ about it.”
          “Darling, you sound like you’ve worked for him yourself.” Rarity’s expression was inquisitive.
          “Well—I did, during the summer after I turned old enough to work, but after that I got so busy with school and all . . .” Twilight shrugged uncomfortably; they all knew where that led. A recent discussion with Sunny Flare in the store’s sitting room, resolving lingering regrets and stricken consciences over the climactic events at the Friendship Games, had inspired both tears and laughter. That disturbance in turn had made Lectern as testy as she’d ever seen him, and Sunny had been a bit apprehensive at the potential consequences. Today, though, they’d seen her shelving books on their way through the store to the back yard and friendly greetings had been exchanged.
          A soft, papery slapping sound interrupted the discussion. Everyone turned back to Sunset, who’d been busy laying out the papers. She was staring at an additional publication that had slipped out from between two of the larger stacks of newsprint and fallen onto the table. “Oh, for . . .” she muttered in a pained voice, followed by a palm to the face.
          This guaranteed everyone else’s full attention, of course, and six figures bent to peer at the cover. Unlike the glossy full-color magazines they were used to, it bore no image, instead being given over almost entirely to a title banner and table of contents.
          “The Happy Mare’s Home Journal,” Pinkie Pie chirped, reading the flamboyantly literal title banner, typeset in a font designed to resemble letters on undulating strips of cloth. “‘Still a bit, still a bargain! Ten bits a year!’” she added, squinting at the date and price information surmounting the banner.
          “That sounds a little like . . . the kind of magazines my mother subscribes to,” Fluttershy noted uncertainly.
          “It probably is.” Sunset sounded distinctly sour.
          “So what is it?” Dash demanded. “And what gives?”
          “For once I agree with Rainbow Dash.” Rarity raised her eyebrows. “You don’t seem very happy to see it, whatever it is.”
          Sunset heaved a sigh and waved a hand at the inoffensive magazine. “The Happy Mare’s Home Journal is kind of a cross between a homemakers’ digest and a farmers’ almanac. Everypony subscribes to it. Even . . .” She rubbed her forehead. “. . . Even Princess Celestia.”
          Applejack reached for it immediately. “Farmers’ almanac, huh? That sounds plenty interesting.”
          “And you didn’t answer Dash’s second question,” Twilight pounced.
          “It’s everywhere, Sci-Twi.” Sunset made a face. “You can’t turn around without bumping into it—even in outhouses, where ponies read new issues and use old issues for . . . other things.”
          Half the group burst out laughing; the other half looked scandalized at first but soon were giggling as well.
          “I got thoroughly sick of it. Princess Celestia had stacks of it, and she insisted on reading what seemed like half the articles to me. As far as I know she still reads every article in every issue.”
          Without raising her head, Applejack flicked her eyes up to give Sunset a trenchant look. “Ah think this’s more ’bout the princess than it is ’bout the magazine. Ain’t it?”
          At first Sunset’s only answer was to hunch down in her chair, but when every one of her friends bent an unwavering stare on her, she finally growled, “Probably. I guess I still haven’t forgiven her completely. And I don’t exactly feel very good about that.”
          “You’re working on it, darling,” Rarity assured her in a practical tone. “I don’t think anyone, here or there, expects you to get over everything in a day, or a month, or even a year. What matters is how far you’ve come, not how far you still have to go.”
          “An’ it’s better to be honest with yerself, even if it ain’t always what ya want to hear.” Applejack paused and leaned a cheek on a hand. “’Specially then, come to think.”
          “Okay, I get it.” Sunset folded her arms on the table and put her chin on her forearms. “I shouldn’t take it out on a poor innocent magazine.”
          “Nope!” Pinkie agreed. “It never did anything to you, right?”
          “Well, there was that one time. . . .”

Minutes later everyone else was roaring with laughter, or as close to it as they were willing to come. Sunset slouched down in her chair again, glowering at them all. “Easy for you to laugh. You weren’t there when it happened. I just wanted to sink through the floor, and I was blushing hard enough to melt the pavers and do it. At least the article barely mentioned me when it came out.”
          “Oh, we have got to get Princess Twi to dig up that issue and send it!” Dash crowed.
          “Don’t you dare!” Sunset sat bolt upright. “I mean it, RD! I don’t need something else to live down.”
          “Fine, fine.” A cyan hand flapped at her, as reassuringly as its owner was capable of. “I’m just teasing. You’ve got the magic journal anyway.”
          “We all have our little—ahem—faux pas to live down, darling, and we’re honored you trust us with yours.” Rarity tapped the tabletop with a manicured fingertip.
          A small smile finally crept across Sunset’s face, and the others cheered, if not as loudly as they could have, to see it. She blew out a breath and shrugged. “All right. I guess there’s no way Princess Twi could know how I feel about the Journal, and it is one of the most popular magazines in the country, especially with mares. She probably figured it would be a nice surprise and a good way to cover more than just the news.”
          “Does this mean you’ll keep getting it?” Fluttershy asked with unwonted eagerness.
          “Yes, I’ll keep getting it.” Sunset sounded resigned, but gave Fluttershy a curious look.
          “Some of the articles look really interesting,” Fluttershy explained. She pointed at the issue currently sitting flat on the table more or less in front of Applejack.
          AJ cleared her throat and started reading out titles and subtitles, and sometimes author names. Indeed the articles proved a very mixed bag, often with a rather domestic emphasis—particularly cooking—but even Rainbow Dash perked up at one or two of the more exotic or adventurous subjects. Sunset found herself explaining pony holidays, griffins, and myriad other bits of context.
          By the time Applejack had finished with the table of contents, all of Sunset’s friends were craning their necks to look over her shoulders and making small noises of interest or enthusiasm. Sunset shook her head with a crooked grin. Whatever she thought of it, The Happy Mare’s Home Journal clearly was a hit with everyone else. There was no way in two worlds she would take that away from them.