My old Equestria Discord idea. A quick idea I had and typed up. If there is interest I’ll go back and rewrite it
The final bell had rung almost twenty minutes ago, but the science classroom still smelled faintly of vinegar and old textbooks. Fluttershy stood just inside the doorway, fingers twisting the strap of her backpack so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Mr. Cord — tall, lanky, with that perpetual half-smile that never quite reached his mismatched eyes — was wiping down the whiteboard with slow, deliberate strokes.
“Um… Mr. Cord?” Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
He paused, cloth hovering mid-swipe, then turned with that easy, theatrical flourish he always seemed to have. “Miss Fluttershy. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company after hours?”
She swallowed, heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. “I… I wanted to talk to you. If that’s okay.”
Discord set the cloth down and leaned against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms. The late afternoon light through the windows caught the strange silver streak in his dark hair, making him look both younger and impossibly older at the same time. “Of course. My door is always open — metaphorically speaking. The literal one tends to stick when it rains.”
Fluttershy took one cautious step forward, then another, until she was standing in front of his desk. Her gaze kept drifting to the small framed photograph sitting beside a stack of ungraded quizzes. In it, a man who looked exactly like Mr. Cord stood with his arm around a woman with long, soft pink hair. She was laughing, head tilted back, eyes bright with joy.
“I… I’ve been wanting to say something for a while,” Fluttershy began, voice trembling. “I know it might sound silly, but… I really like you, Mr. Cord. Not just as a teacher. I mean… I like you.”
The words hung in the air between them like fragile soap bubbles. She waited, cheeks burning, for him to laugh, or frown, or gently let her down the way adults always did when students confessed silly crushes.
Instead, Discord’s expression softened. Not the usual theatrical smirk — something quieter, almost sad. “Ah,” he said gently. “I see.”
He followed her gaze to the photograph. For a long moment he simply looked at it, thumb brushing the edge of the frame as though the image might vanish if he touched it too hard.
“That’s… my wife,” he said at last, voice low and warm. “Or rather, she was. She passed a very long time ago. Feels like another lifetime now. We’re… worlds apart these days.”
The way he said it — not with bitterness, but with a deep, quiet ache — made Fluttershy’s chest tighten. There was so much love still wrapped around those words, even after all this time. It made her like him even more. And at the same time, it made her heart sink.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know.”
Discord gave a small, rueful smile. “Few people do. She was… extraordinary. Kind in a way the world rarely allows. The kind of person who could tame chaos with nothing but patience and a gentle hand.” His eyes flicked back to Fluttershy for the briefest second, something unreadable flickering behind them. “You remind me of her, sometimes.”
Fluttershy felt her breath catch. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Before she could find any, Discord straightened up and gestured toward the door with a dramatic little bow. “Come along, Miss Fluttershy. The halls are lonely this time of day, and I’d hate for you to walk alone. Allow me to escort you to your friends.”
He walked her out of the classroom, chatting lightly about nothing important — the upcoming science fair, the weather, how Pinkie Pie had somehow turned the last lab experiment into confetti. At the front doors he paused, giving her one last gentle smile.
“Be safe getting home,” he said softly. “And Fluttershy… thank you. For being brave enough to say what you did.”
She managed a tiny nod before slipping outside to where her friends were waiting. As she walked away, she glanced back once.
Through the classroom window she could just see his desk. For the briefest instant — maybe a trick of the light, maybe her imagination — the photograph changed.
Instead of a man and a woman, she saw a tall, mismatched creature with a goat horn and a deer antler, laughing as he held a pink-maned pegasus close in his arms. The pegasus looked up at him with the same soft, trusting eyes Fluttershy saw in her own mirror every morning.
Then the image flickered, and it was just the ordinary photo again.
Fluttershy stood there a moment longer, heart aching in a way she couldn’t quite name, before turning to join her friends.
Behind her, in the empty classroom, Discord picked up the photograph and ran his thumb across the glass one last time.
“Still causing chaos even from the other side, my dear,” he murmured with a wistful smile. “Some things never change.”
Fluttershy stepped out of the science wing into the late afternoon sun, her arms wrapped tightly around her backpack like a shield. The hallway felt longer than usual, every echo of her footsteps too loud in her ears. Her cheeks were still warm, and her heart hadn’t slowed down since she left Mr. Cord’s classroom.
She spotted her friends waiting near the front doors — Rainbow Dash leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, Pinkie Pie bouncing on her toes, Rarity checking her reflection in a compact mirror, Applejack tipping her hat back, and Twilight adjusting her glasses while holding a stack of notebooks.
Rainbow noticed her first. “There she is! Sooo… how’d it go, Fluttershy? Did you finally tell the ‘creepy old guy’ you have a crush on him?”
The group turned, all eyes on her. Pinkie gasped dramatically. “Did he say yes?! Did he say no?! Did he say ‘let’s have a science-themed date with beakers and explosions’?”
Fluttershy stopped a few feet away, staring at the ground. Her fingers tightened on the strap of her backpack until her knuckles turned white. She opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out right.
“I… I told him,” she whispered.
Rarity’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “And? Darling, don’t leave us in suspense!”
Fluttershy’s voice was barely audible. “He… he has a wife. Or… he had one. She passed away a long time ago. He talked about her like… like she was still the most important thing in his world.”
Rainbow’s smirk faltered. “Oh.”
Applejack rubbed the back of her neck. “Well… shoot. That’s rough.”
Twilight adjusted her glasses again, clearly processing. “That explains why he always seems a little… distant during class. I thought it was just his teaching style.”
Pinkie’s usual bounce slowed. “Aww… poor Mr. Cord. And poor Fluttershy…”
Fluttershy kept staring at her shoes, her voice small. “He said I reminded him of her sometimes. The way she was kind. The way she could… tame chaos with patience.”
She let out a shaky breath. “It made me like him even more. But it also made me feel… really small. Like I could never be what she was to him.”
Rarity stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Fluttershy’s shoulder. “Oh, darling… I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t have laughed earlier. We had no idea.”
Rainbow rubbed the back of her head, looking unusually guilty. “Yeah… my bad with the ‘creepy old guys’ joke. That was kinda insensitive.”
Applejack gave a soft nod. “If you wanna talk about it, sugarcube, we’re here. No teasing this time.”
Fluttershy managed a tiny, watery smile. “Thank you… I just… I didn’t expect it to hurt this much. He was so gentle when he talked about her. Like she was still right there with him, even after all this time.”
The group fell into a quiet, supportive silence for a moment. Then Pinkie pulled Fluttershy into a gentle group hug, the kind that didn’t squeeze too hard.
“We’ve got you, Fluttershy,” Pinkie said softly. “Even if Mr. Cord’s heart is still somewhere else… you’ve got all of us.”
Fluttershy leaned into the hug, eyes glistening. “Thank you… I think I just need a little time.”
As they started walking toward the parking lot together, Twilight lingered a step behind, glancing back at the science wing with a thoughtful frown.
For just a second, she could have sworn she saw a tall figure standing at the classroom window, watching them leave with an unreadable expression.
Then the reflection of the setting sun glinted off the glass, and the figure was gone.
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