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// Context 
// Story: Tuesday 
// by mr_shimmer 
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	I’m a teenage boy who still lives with his parents. I’m no stranger to pulling allnighters. The day I got XCOM 2 downloaded, I was up all night, trying to keep my troops alive. When I finally shut it down and fell asleep, I had only completely lost the game twice. The next day, I was up at six PM, ready to try again. And again, and again, and so forth for nearly a month.
But this night has been pretty hard, and I’ll have to keep up with this cute little thing in the morning.
Of course the last time I fell asleep, I honestly felt like I was drowning… Something I am all too familiar with. Lungs aching, heart beating in absolute terror, being unable to break the surface, no matter how hard you push… Little cries of pain that you desperately try to hold onto, so that you don’t lose anymore of that precious breath. That dream was a bit too lifelike, I have no idea how I was coherent; ten seconds is a long time with borrowed breath. I don’t believe I’d do half as well in a real interrogation, let alone with torture.
I’ve done as much as I can for tonight, my resume is ready, and I have informed my school of my intent, well, I sent my counselor an email. As for the resume, all it took for an update was the fact I worked for them in the past. 
But I’m still afraid of taking the plunge, that was a bad analogy. How does my internal thought filter not catch that stuff? My back of mind to active thoughts usually catches stuff that dumb.
But the root problem is still there. I am afraid of dreaming, or rather, falling asleep. Lucid dreaming. I control my dreams… Of course the only way I’ve done that is when I wake up insanely early, crawl out of bed, stumble onto the couch, and fail to startup my laptop while I’m technically awake. Sitting there in the dark, while expecting to go off into a multitude of worlds, just to entertain myself, usually does the trick.
Well, I can go into the other room, set Cortana to wake me up just after REM has started, and then I move to the couch, next to that adorable filly.
REM sleep huh, you are trying to find a way to avoid the problem rather than facing it head on. I seem to remember something that you don’t, CORTANA HAS”T WOKEN US UP ONCE! You are one of two things, if you can remember that little fact. However, with all the messed up mental things going on, I’m giving you the benefit of a doubt. You may not remember the dozen times we tried using Cortana to wake us up.
There is also the other explanation, that you are somewhat deliberately not remembering, as to force yourself to face your fears. Or ‘something’ is deliberately doing something like that. Of course if that is true, the question becomes of it’s motives.
Does it desire to have another chance to interrogate him? Or does it have some other goal in mind? Someway to gain his trust? Maybe expose me as the foreign entity? Say that I somehow lobotomized him, and that it can help remove me from him?
It does me no good to worry myself with those things, what I need to figure out, is a way to interact with the world, just watching what he does isn't that enjoyable. Maybe I can find a way to interact with this foreign entity that keeps touching this head, after all, what do I stand to lose?



Wow, for once Cortana worked. That's kinda weird, suspiciously so. As in she has never worked before. So why now?
Wait, there it is again, this mind is getting awfully crowded these days.



What do I know about Lyra?
In the show she was one of the presumably brainwashed bridesmaids. 
She was reasonably upset the fact that her best friend/marefriend was a secret agent.
That's about it for what I've seen on the show.
As for the fandom...there are deep, dark places in my mind (Yeah, I know, it's almost cosy) where I have stored some things on which I dare not dwell. Thankfully I have more than a few stories with Lyra as a character that don't fit into that particular category.
Let's see, crazy Lyra, Crazy Lyra, hormonal jerk Lyra, good friend Lyra, struggling musician Lyra, secret agent Lyra, secret human Lya, potentially insane Lyra, and a few dozen romantic interests for the human of the fic.
Wow, I am woefully unprepared for this. Really unprepared.
Ok, the standard location of her residence is Ponyville or Manehattan. Ponyville is a place that is as rural as a town can get, and more than a bit of craziness. Disasters every Tuesday. Manticores one day, a Ursa Minor the next. Manehattan is an analogue to Manhattan. Which apart from being culturally influential, I know next to nothing about.
Of course that is the mainstream representation of Ponyville, her dimension, time or whatever version she's from could be a pretty calm place. So any assumptions about her 'home life' is kinda pointless.
So don't assume. Watch.  Learn. Interact.
Wha-



Uh, I’m not at Johny’s anymore.
I’m in my standard gear, boots, jeans, black trenchcoat, and school baseball cap.
Okay, check surroundings. I am.. Outside. On a clear night. Without any constellations I recognize, no big or small dipper, no Cassiopeia, or Orion. Well, what else is there. No man in the moon… okay, looking downwards…I’m on a sidewalk, and apparently in a big city, with buildings as far as I can see. Those buildings look pretty much like every old picture I’ve seen of New York tenant buildings.
And I can hear some lady crying. 
Shit. My greatest weakness, crying females. Oh look, I cussed again. This always happens, I hear some girl having a breakdown over some trivial thing, and I end up with a tear soaked shirt, and the girl walks away and forgets me.
It sounds like she’s right behind that corner, oh, I never realized how big city allies echo. She’s probably just down this way. Well, she can’t be past the next turn, and what’s that smell? Wait, I passed the crying. She’s right behind me. And she isn’t a human, why didn’t I see this coming.
She looks kinda familiar. Dark green coat, orange eyes, poofy mane and tail. The salty, wet trails down her face however, is what stands out the most. 
“Hey, what happened?” I ask gently.
“He,*sniffle* he, forced me to...” she wheezes out between crying fits.
“Take your time, I’m right here, I’m not going to force you to do anything.” I tell her in the softest voice I can manage. The stench, with her crying, away from anyone else, is enough to cue me in. This poor mare has suffered greatly, and since I don’t know pony anatomy, the best I can do is help her emotionally.
“He, he was waiting for me!” she wailed. I nodded in understanding. If I understand correctly, then whomever did this had planned it out, this wasn’t a crime of opportunity. This mare is shaking so heavily, she must he in shock, or freezing, and the only thing I
“I’m going to get a bit closer, okay?” She nods, and I step closer, and take off my trench coat. “I’m going to give you this coat, it should help you warm up.” She nods again, and I carefully lay my coat over her.”I want you to take my hand, and when it gets too much, just focus on my hand, ignore everything else, can you do that for me?” I ask of her, while holding my hand out to her.
“I.. I think so..” She replies.
“Okay, take a deep breath, and tell me whatever you can manage. I’m going to stay here, so take your time. I’m here for you.” Almost immediately, she tries to crush my hand. I wince, but stay quiet, thankfully she relaxes.
“I was trotting home.. I had just picked up some milk for tomorrow.. He was waiting for me. He was waiting!” If years of watching Criminal Minds has taught me anything, then this is it. Bedside manner. Thank goodness for my weird pain tolerance.
“He’s not here, take your time.” I softly remind her.
“I was going home, and he just dragged me here…” She was abducted, was it with raw strength, flight, or magic? “I couldn’t break out, he just held me there…”  magical bubble, or physical restraints? I don’t see obvious chaffing on her hooves, but what do I know about ponies? “I can barely support myself, let alone a foal…”What do I even say to that? The only thing I can, to keep here, in the now.
“Just focus on my hand, squeeze it, crush it, no matter what, focus on my hand.”
YOU IDIOT! How can you not notice the simplest of things? Do you feel the wind blowing that trash down the alley? No, we can’t. Before you took off our trench coat, it could be excusable. This place isn’t real. That lady isn’t real. This isn’t some magical trip to Equestria, this is some horrific dream. It has to be another attempt at whatever goal the last dream had. You don’t even see what is right in front of your face!