//------------------------------// // Twilight Sparkle // Story: No Going Back // by ferret //------------------------------// My life is incredible. Somehow, impossibly, wonderfully, I find myself sitting here in Pinkie Pie’s room, in Pinkie Pie’s bed, in Ponyville, in Equestria. My Little Pony is real, Friendship is Magic, and I’m a pony. I’m a cute little pink haired, cream furred mare, where once I was a nondescript, brown-haired man. As one of those few men cursed to be overjoyed at getting turned into the little mare, I couldn’t possibly be happier. Some cosmic being had to be smiling down upon me, or sitting up there laughing at me, because something happened that never would have through random chance alone. My portal led to Ponyville, not the vacuum of empty space. I turned into an earth pony mare, not a burbling blob of melted protoplasm. I guess technically I was for those first agonizing minutes/hours. I passed through the portal, went through that pain. I walked through the cold forest, slept in the snow, followed the creek, and then I appreciated the applesauce out of Ponyville. It didn’t mean I wasn’t in trouble though. Probably suffering hypothermia, I was too worn out to even shiver. I don’t know how close to death I was, but I certainly wasn’t doing very well, when I reached town. I was saved when a lilac princess came into my life. When nopony else would help me, she and her friend Pinkie Pie gave me food and shelter, and left me in Pinkie’s own bed, instead of leaving me out in the cold. That may sound like other ponies are callous and cruel, but in fact ponies did seem like they were trying to help me, just coincidentally unable to. This is of course because I’m in a story, and the first thing these stories dictate is you’ll meet the main 6. Unfortunately, the last thing these stories dictate is that you’ll return home. Staring at Twilight Sparkle from Pinkie Pie’s bed, I’m alone in a room with the omnipotent being who probably has the power to send me back right on the spot, I don’t want to go through with this story, but I don’t know what consequences there are for a genre savvy character to try to ruin the story. Is everything going to start being terrible again, as our author abandons us, and we’re once again left with nothing but undirected chaos? What would Twilight do to me, if I tried to fight my own destiny? On some level, I don’t want to ruin the story. Sure I don’t want to go back, but I’m immensely grateful just for a chance to live like this, and authors have good reasons for bringing things back to normal. They won’t let me suffer like I once did. I’ll return home wiser, and with a new motivation to clean up my life and really live. That wouldn’t be... terrible. It just means I have to be a... guy. I have to return home, because my readers don’t get to live a fantasy, so why should I? If I return home, then people who read my story will feel like there is nothing wrong with their world, that my story doesn’t challenge the notion that their reality is the best reality. If I don’t return home, then readers will wonder if there isn’t something wrong with their world, and wish for something better, and then become as miserable as I was. I couldn’t inflict my life on someone else. I can’t afford to remain a pony, and I must go back, so why am I so scared of Twilight Sparkle? How she looks at me, the violet eyes that almost seem to glow, this immense power just radiating off her elegant form as she stares at me. I just... I don’t want to have to worry about otherworldly authors, or returning home. I just want to eat my soup! And actually my throat is so thirsty it feels tacky from swallowing all that soup. What I need is water, which is handily provided in the tall glass beside my soup bowl. “Don’t mind me,” Twilight murmurs, for some reason, while I try to pick up the cup with increasing alarm. I can’t... I can’t even pick up the glass. My stupid hooves are shaking and—and I don’t know how to use them! “D-do you think I could, um...” I say wondering if it’d be okay for me to just stick my nose into the glass, and to Tartarus with not spilling everything all over the place. Twilight thankfully misinterprets my question, and the cup slips right out from between my thirsty hooves. I follow my gaze upward and... oh sweet Celestia. The cup is floating before me, wrapped in sparkling, magenta light, in a wonderful display of physical forces that should be literally impossible. Without any kinetic force on anything between her horn and this cup, Twilight Sparkle is levitating it up in the air. Everything I’ve seen so far has been crazy, impossible, and spectacular. But her magic... It could be nanobots. Her horn could emit a stream of nanobots that glowed as they burned their payload, to lift whatever it is up into the air. But I mean, everything could be nanobots. I could perform experiments on that horn, take measurements, eliminate every sensible answer other than magic. If it truly violates the laws of thermodynamics, then I could be looking at something right now which is not just unexplained, but genuinely unexplainable. Not just contradicting the models of the laws of physics that humans had thought were true, but contradicting the natural laws themselves. I... don’t know a lot about physics, honestly. Just enough to find it a depressingly well studied dead end. Enough to know that magic as it appeared in the show should be impossible. Enough to know that portals into other worlds should be impossible. But that portal, I could write off as a one-time plot device. If I’m going to be living in a world where magic is commonplace... then the physical laws of the story have got to cater to it, including the laws governing death. And I’m going to have to leave this place? Oh I hope it’s not one of those all-just-a-dream endings. At least give me some evidence of this magical realm, so I can hope that one day, when I die, I can finally have a chance to be a girl, instead of just being... dead forever. I’ll probably have a... a cupcake, or a horseshoe, or something I can’t write off as just a dream. That’d be okay, right? Then I could live with being... myself, long enough to make it to whatever heaven awaits: humans, or ponies. Honestly, if I’m aiming at Heaven, I probably should delete that folder on my laptop computer... the one named “Pictures / Pony / .hiddenunimportant”. Holy crap, does this mean I can have sex for real? I don’t know how to feel about that! Somepony’s talking to me. I probably should respond to her. In the reality that there is a cup of water magically floating in my face, Twilight Sparkle says, “Just firmly brace them, without biting down hard, and they should tighten reflexively at the weight on them.” I look at her in consternation. She probably thinks I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to use a cup. “I uh, drank from a cup before. It’s just I’ve never seen your magic,” I tell Twilight distractedly, “Is it—” I turn back to look at the floating cup, curious out of my mind . The water isn’t floating out of it. If it negated gravity, the water would start floating out, right? Is it just like holding it in a hoof, but remotely? “What does it feel like to do that?” I finally ask her, poking an edge of my forehoof against the floating glass. It feels... sparkly. “To lift a cup?” Twilight asks. Vaguely I nod. What did she think I was talking about? Twilight retreats the cup back to herself, both her horn and the cup still glowing in magenta light that dances with sparkles. She looks at it uncertainly, then says to me, “It’s um... I just wrap my magic around the cup and lift it. It’s kind of hard to explain to an earth pony—” Her violet irises narrow then and she stammers, “u-um n-not that I think anypony’s stupid. I just meant you don’t have a horn to deal with, and it can be a real pain I mean, even for me, it took me a while to learn things like lifting cups, when I was a very little filly. Do um...” It’s kind of strange, seeing such a powerful being getting all awkwardly nervous, but it is Twilight Sparkle, I suppose. Twilight relaxes somewhat, and her voice bears more curiosity when she asks, “Do they not have unicorns, where you’re from?” Understatement of the eon. “No they don’t...” I say faintly, “They don’t have any of this.” Twilight just floats the glass over towards me again, and tilts it slightly. I bite the edge of the magic cup, finding it curiously weightless, yet weighty. I cautiously tilt it enough to get water to pour into my mouth. Then Twilight just releases her magic, and the weight of the glass clacks on my teeth as water floods out of it so fast it goes right down the wrong pipe, because of course horses can breathe through their mouths. Great job, pony evolution! My cough knocks the cup right out of my lips, and I hunch there trying to clear my throat from wet coughs, trying to apologize for... for... Right, she has magic. When the cup flies out of my mouth, Twilight Sparkle just catches it in mid-air ... and the water that splashes out of it. “Careful,” Twilight says in an almost motherly way, returning the floating spheres of water to the cup, then floating it towards me again. “Sorry, I thought you had it.” “I just didn’t know you were going to let go of the cup,” I murmur in embarassment, “I didn’t know the... common etiquette for that, if you hold it the whole time or not.” Soon I’ve got the cup in my mouth again, and this time neither of us let it spill. My parched tissues receive the water with an aching wonder. I can’t drink enough, biting to tilt the angle of the cup higher and higher, while Twilight continues to have me hold it, saying, “It really is fascinating how your verse’s ponies are so different from our own.” My verse’s... ponies. She thinks I’m a pony in the original world, doesn’t she. Humans are just a myth in this universe, and she can’t even comprehend what they would be like. I try to smile at her, saying, “Thanks... Twilight.” Then something occurs to me: this purple unicorn has wings! “Or, do you prefer Princess Twilight?” I ask curiously, “Or Twilight Sparkle?” “Twilight is fine. We’re all friends here,” is her easy answer. I envy Twilight’s calm confidence, even in crazy situations like this. But Twilight keeps grilling me, pointing out that I have no unicorns, or bite grips, and... huh. “You seem to want to manipulate everything with your hooves,” Twilight says as I fumble with the soup bowl. “Is that how you do it, in your old world: stop and lift everything with your hooves?” I can’t... I just can’t leave her that ignorant. She doesn’t even know. But the more I tell her, the greater a risk my story will end and she’ll send me back. I–I don’t know. How much do I need tell her? How much do I want to tell her? “In my world, I don’t...” I wince, trying to sugarcoat this, but I want her to understand. “I don’t have hooves.” Twilight looks at me stupidly, mouth hanging open. She recovers fast though, saying, “But... you do have hooves!” She points to my... my dirty cream colored hooves, with her own hoof. Oh no, she... she thinks I was always a pony! She doesn’t know that the portal changed me into a pony! “I sort of... changed into a pony,” I have to admit, and I immediately regret it. Should I have told her even that? Now she’ll try to change me back, won’t she? Twilight’s looking at me suspiciously, and I can’t go lying to her. I’d never keep my story straight. “I don’t know how, or why, but I just... woke up like this,” I tell her noncommitally, “I used to be a... um... do you know what humans are?” “Vaguely,” Twilight drawls, waving a dismissive forehoof. Oh stars, the mirror is canon. “Mythical Monsters Made Manifest mentioned them, once,” she remarks, “I think they’re native to Zebri—wait, you were a human?” What? No seriously, what? Humans are native to... Zebrica? Oh that makes so much more sense than the high school dimension. What if ponies and humans happened, how would a human society really develop under those conditions? I have got to get to a paleontology museum. ...aand Twilight notices me staring. “I’m sorry,” I say with a blush, “It’s... yes, I was a—” I wish I could tell her a pony. But she’d find out then, and then she’d find out that I lied to her! “A human,” I admit at last. I could never say I’m a man. That would just kill me, if everypony had to know. I don’t want to even think about going back to that. “I must have transformed,” I say, smiling nervously, and trying to sound casual when I say, “That’s why I said I wasn’t supposed to be a pony.” “Oh no, you really are in trouble then!” Twilight declares just like I wish she wouldn’t. “Not only did the transfer process take away your home and loved ones,” she says dramatically, “But also thrust you into a strange form, totally alien to you!” Trying to smile calmly without alarm, I tell her, “No, it’s not so—” “Well, worry not!” Twilight cuts in, and I guess she wasn’t even listening to me at this point. Looks like she’s on a roll, telling me how she’s gonna send me home, and then saying, “I just hope your transformation won’t give you a negative opinion of ponies in the future.” “I really don’t mind,” I tell her frantically, “I just...” I just what? I love being a pony? That’s why I can’t drink, or walk right? How do I tell her I’m having trouble, without making her think I hate being a pony? “It just takes some getting used to,” I assure her, feeling a little more genuine in my smile knowing that I welcome the things I have to get used to, in order to be a mare. “I’m sure I could get you back quicker, if you tell me about the process by which you came here,” Twilight asks cagily. Dammit, I can’t escape this, can I? She barrages me with guesses about how I came to her world, each one more fantastic than the last. “No, no I’m just... I’m not anyone special,” I tell Twilight cautiously, afraid to reveal what little I might know about the process of coming here. “Nobody knows me or c–cares. I’m pretty much nobody. Nothing special about me, and I c-certainly wouldn’t have access to technology that could do... this.” I wish it wasn’t so easy to describe myself as an incompetent loser. “Were you a test subject of an experiment?” Twilight asks innocently. “Sometimes I wonder about that,” I grumble. But with an inner sigh, I look to her and say, “No, I’m just... someone. With nothing anyone would remember about.” “Then how did you get here?” Twilight demands with an impatient frown. What do I tell her? She’s not taking the hint that I don’t have any clues to give her! I don’t want to give her what little clues I have! Does my story demand it? An ugly feeling wells up in me as Twilight innocently says, “If you tell me, then I can get you back, and you can return to your normal life. That’s why I’m asking, because I want to help you!” Of course she wants to help me. Anything I tell her is just going to ruin everything. There’s just no way out of this. I’m gonna have to... lie. “I don’t remember anything,” I say, trying to remain calm, “I just went to sleep in my bed, and woke up face first in the snow, as a pony. It’s really okay though—” Brightening, Twilight declares, “Oneirology isn’t unheard of, but there are pretty hard limits to what a dream can project. I’m sure you’ve pinched yourself at least once in the past week of searching for Ponyville.” Week? How would I...? “How does a pony pinch herself?” I ask curiously. “...by nipping your own arm?” Twilight replies with a confused look. Huh, that does make sense, as far as pony linguo and anatomy goes. Of course my question about pinching allows her to go into another diatribe about how she’s going to return me to my human life, and I can only sigh in frustration. “Never mind,” I try not to snap at her, “I just wanted you to know that I’m okay. B-being a pony.” Twilight looks at me like I’m an idiot, who doesn’t know what he—or she is okay with. I look down at my forehooves again, and I just want to be a pony. I don’t want to rush through my whole entire story in just one day. I haven’t even seen what I look like! Oh, actually... “Do you know if there’s a mirror in here?” I ask Twilight hopefully. I don’t even know what color my eyes are! “I think so, but this isn’t my room, so no promises,” Twilight says, giving me an odd look, “Why do you need a mirror?” “I have been able to see myself a little bit in water, and windows,” I admit, “But I haven’t seen a mirror yet. I’m just curious what I really look like... as a pony.” “Well alright. I’ll see if there’s anything in her closet,” Twilight says, facing a door in the wall, and then her horn lights up. Her magenta light illuminates the door, swinging it open, then she trots over to it, poking her head in its dark confines, looking around. “...huh,” I can hear Twilight vaguely mumble something to herself, something about free spirits I guess, as she moves into the closet. If I’m going to see myself, I want to see myself standing like a pony, not laying on my back in Pinkie Pie’s bed like a ...human. That of course means I have to get up now. It hurts to even lean over. But I dunno, the best way to heal is to get fresh blood to the injured areas. That means circulation, and that means... moving. I can’t exactly... step out of bed, so I just slide my hind legs off, thumping down on the wood floor with my very female rear end. I didn’t know your vulva would just push up against stuff! I uh... I would’ve hurt myself a lot just now, if I had balls to land on instead. I wonder how many girls know how much it hurts to land on your balls. That’s sort of a transformed girls only thing, I guess. I’ve just begun crawling up off that soft-feeling rump, pulling myself upright by walking my forehooves forward, when Twilight comes out of the closet. She noses before her not just a hand mirror, but a full length mirror in ornately carved wood, rolling on little wheels. I am standing correctly, right? I lift my hooves, checking their position. I can feel them again, all four of them, and the novelty of feeling my broad, flat hooves pressing against Pinkie Pie’s floorboards is fascinating in of itself. “Okay, if you’re sure about this,” Twilight says, attracting my attention. She’s giving me a worried look, her magic moving the mirror away from my ability to see in it. “I want you to know that you are very aesthetically pleasing as a pony,” Twilight says nervously, “Even if you are a bit filthy, currently. It might disturb you to see this, but I assure you that you look very normal, even if it might seem strange to you.” Did... Twilight Sparkle just call me cute? “I think I’ll manage,” I tell the princess, unable to stop a little giggle from bubbling up in me at how clinically Twilight Sparkle said that. “So um...” I say, leaning to try and look into the mirror her magic’s still holding. “Bring it over here, please?” “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Twilight replies seriously. This isn’t going to be a problem, is it? I know I’m not as fat as Woah Nelly! Twilight finally swings the mirror around so I can see in it and... ... There’s a little pony looking back at me in the mirror. A soft pink mane hangs over my head, that looks like it’d be in curls if it wasn’t frazzled and disarrayed. There is no horn hidden in it, and no wings decorate my sides, making me a simple earth pony. With my hooves the same color as the rest of my keratin (my fur) you can’t easily tell where fur ends and hoof begins. Creamy, off-white fur covers my entire body, from my softly rounded snout, to the fetlocks of my hooves. At least, I’m pretty sure it’s off-white, because I’m absolutely filthy. Guilt swells in me as I don’t even want to think what state of Pinkie Pie’s bed is in. Smears of dried, crusted dirt mar my creamy white fur. My hopelessly frizzy and snarled pink hair feels like it wanted to be soft, beautiful curls somehow, but instead it’s a mess of leaves and twigs, and split ends. My tail is ragged and sore, and I think my environment managed to yank out clumps of the long hairs, when I was too numb to even notice. The messed up mare in the mirror looks surprised with her hoof raised, which is my hoof hanging there in front of me. Striking blue eyes blink, and stare, as I look at myself in the mirror, huge and round, bordered with little wispy black eyelashes. Are those my eyes? If I wasn’t all dirty... I guess I’d be kind of cute? I try to imagine myself all brushed and washed and... with my soft pink curls looking less like snarls, I guess. I have this innocentish look that seems so familiar. Where have I seen a pony like that before? Oh. “I’m Twinkleshine, without a horn,” I say flatly, returning my forehoof to the floor. That’s just... well, it’s not exactly creative. It’s still pretty incredible, but why would I just randomly have her color scheme? Am I supposed to be some version of her? But I’m an earth pony! I guess some ponies just look like each other? Would ponies think Twinkleshine and I were related? Or is there a difference, I’m not seeing? Indeed, Twilight confidently protests my claim, saying wryly, “I wouldn’t say that. Her snout isn’t as rounded as yours, and she has oval eyes, I’m pretty sure—wait, how do you know Twinkleshine?” I—shit! “Well, I’ve... seen her, um...” what do I say? I don’t want to tell her about the show! That’d blow her little pony mind! I don’t want to send Twilight Sparkle into a spiral of depression as she enters an existential crisis! Please tell me that’s not part of the plot! But bizarrely, Twilight only seems to grow angrier at my reticence. Stepping aggressively forward, she says in utter disgust, “Are you seriously that much of a crazed fan, that you even have to stalk my friends in—” She knows I’m a fan?! She knows about fans?? Of course she does, she’s probably been studying us like insects for years, just like she’s looking down at me like an insect! Oh... oh stars, she’s taller than me. “How do you know Twinkleshine?” Twilight says in a furious squeal, coming up to me even as I sink down, which makes her look even bigger. “How do you know my name? How do you know anything? You’re a human mare from another world! Another verse! An entirely different reality! How did you know about Sugarcube Corner?” I—I didn’t think about that—she knows, doesn’t she? Why would she think I don’t know about her? What’s going on?? “How did you know Pinkie Pie, and me? How could you be a fan of us, if you live in an entirely separate reality from our own? Were you spying on us across the dimensions?” Was I?? Does the show count as spying? I try to tell her I didn’t mean to spy, but my words catch in my throat as she gets right up to me and shouts, “How? Were you sent here intentionally, to target us? Why would your verse want to target the Elements of Harmony, if not for malicious intent! Do you have that capability? What are you going to do to us?!” I try to look away from her, desperate to get away from her, and that... that huge mirror is hovering in her magic and creaking worriedly. “How did you know my name?” Twilight shouts in my face, in anger and fear, “How did you know my name?!” “Twilight, the mirror—!” I manage to squeak, just as with a loud crack, the thick, polished wood splits in half, scattering splinters like rain. The glass shatters, shards raining down in Twilight’s magic as if in slow-motion. A look of shock and guilt floods Twilight’s face, as she steps back from me, looking at the ruined mirror and shaking her head, saying softly “I’m so sorry, Pinkie.” She did that on accident?! Twilight’s eyes have never looked colder as she spears me in her gaze again. “We’re not gods,” she says in a weary voice. What?! “We’re just ponies, who happened to be at the right place at the right time,” Twilight tells me all too calmly, “Yes I have wings, and yes I did save the Crystal Empire, but not alone, and not just with those 12. It’s perfectly alright if you want to respect and admire me and my friends, for what we’ve achieved as ponies, but can’t you see this is going too far?” “What...?!” I say in a somewhat less terrified squeak. What’s going too far? She thinks I went through that portal just to be her fan? “This!” Twilight answers my rhetorical squeak, throwing a forehoof in my direction, where I lay puddled shaking on the floor. Oh no why am I shaking? W-what’s wrong with me?! “You went and starved yourself out in the wilderness,” Twilight says almost sadly, “And you constructed some sort of highly advanced magical... prank, just to get my attention?” She thinks I constructed the portal? She thinks the portal is a prank?! “Just to impress me?” Twilight insists, and I try to shake my head, but she goes on, stating emphatically, “I’m a princess, not some kind of deity, missy!” Rubbing her forehead beneath her horn, and then glaring at me, she says, “Why couldn’t you just... take the train to Ponyville, and talk to me? You think your magic can’t impress me, just by showing it to me?” How... what? How was I supposed to—just take the train to Ponyville?! Her tone of voice grows bitter, as Twilight groans, “This is about Trixie, isn’t it? You think that it’s just a big game of one-upmareship, where you have to be bigger and better than her, or I’ll just be a big snob! Is that what you think?” “I don’t—a snob?” I ask with a shrill break in my voice, trying to stand up and I can’t—w-why am I crying? “What are you saying?” I beg of her, my eyes flooding with tears that I can’t stop. Then she just grabs me. Her magic just latches onto me and I can feel it. Not all of me, but just my head, dragging me by my head up to her, so her face is just an inch away from mine. I can’t move away! Help! “I want you to get your friends,” she tells me cooly, “And have them all report to me at the library.” Oh please someone help I can’t do that! Can I? I’ve never been so terrified in my life, and she won’t let me go! “No more grandstanding, no more risky stunts, no more lying to the pony you’re trying to impress.” She lets me pull away then, to at least a small distance, but I just want to run until I never see her again, and my chest is hurting, and I hate her and I love her and I can’t handle this! What’s wrong with me? Why can’t think? I wasn’t—I lied to her! She knew! When did I lie to her? All I remember is lying to her! I can’t even remember what the lie was! “Get all your fellow fans to the library, and I’m going to have a very long talk with you about the consequences of putting a pony up on a pedestal,” she tells me impassively, even regally, “Being a fan is one thing, but what they did to you, or you to yourself, is entirely unacceptable.” I’m having a hard time talking, because when I say, “How am I supposed to do that?!” my voice cracks with a sob that I can’t hold back, just shuddering there and crying in front of her, trapped and scared and I can’t handle this. “I don’t even know how I got here!” I sob, “I don’t even know any fans; how would they all fit in the library?” “I didn’t mean all my fans,” Twilight says, rolling her eyes at me. Then... then what does she want? I told her that I don’t know any fans! I was all alone. I just... went to Equestria one day. My television exploded, but oh no that was the lie I told. I told her I just woke up in Equestria, because I was trying to hide it from her. “Just tell me the ones who orchestrated this,” Twilight says impatiently, “Don’t tell me that you worked alone.” But I did! “I... worked alone?” I squeak in terror, eyes still wet with tears. She doesn’t want me to lie, but she doesn’t want me to tell the truth?! “Orchestrated?” I whine in confusion, my fogged mind belatedly picking up on her strange accusations, “I didn’t orchestrate anything! How do you even know about the show?!” Then Twilight just... stops. Drops me to sink to the floor. She’s just staring at me with an unreadable expression. I’m going to die here. She’s going to kill me for knowing her dark secret. “What show?” she asks, suspiciously. “Are you talking about a stage play?” “N-no, more like a movie,” I say, trying to get ahold of my shuddering breaths. And then she suddenly doesn’t believe me anymore! “Are you asking for movie rights?” she asks and I can’t ask for movie rights since she’s real! “Because there are channels for that sort of thing, that don’t involve pretending to be a lost traveller from another verse,” she says. But I am! “I am a traveller from another verse,” I desperately squeal, trying to calm down as I try to explain, “I have a s-show that I watch, that’s like a movie and you’re all in it! That’s how I found you! I mean that—that’s probably why I got sent here, because... because I wanted you to be real!” Twilight facehoofs again, saying, “Okay, let’s just start over again.” Why is she doing this to me?! “Twilight, what did you do?!” comes a shrill shriek from behind the purple princess. Pinkie just bounds into the room, staring at me in horror. Oh no, does she hate me too? “Oh, the mirror?” Twilight replies with a nervous laugh, “Sorry I got a little too—” “Not the mirror!” Pinkie shouts, then leaps at me like a panther! My heart stops, as a scream catches in my throat and then her warm pink arms wrap around me, and she pulls me to her chest. S-she’s comforting me? Stars fall, I can’t understand it! Why is she comforting me, when Twilight was so angry with me? What did I do, to get Twilight that terrifyingly overwhelmingly angry? She was like a force of nature! And why can’t I stop crying? I try to breathe, and... and just sob into Pinkie Pie’s fluffy chest fur. Which I probably have, but I do, and I don’t care if I make a fool of myself, because I’m scared and upset and it’s just hitting me like a tidal wave! Twilight squeals in utter frustration then, and vanishes in a bright flash of magenta light. Pinkie just sits with me on the floor, and lets me do this... thing. As time passes, I start to become aware of what I’m doing, or at least what just happened. I had an honest to gosh, genuine freakout. I’ve never been so terrified of a little pony before, or of anything really. I don’t think I’ve ever felt things this strongly before. Is it because I’m a pony? Is it because I’m a girl? Is it because I have hope again? Darn it, this is so weird... I’m not used to being so loud and—frankly obnoxious when I cry. I’m not used to so genuinely losing control of myself. My terrified sobs fade blessedly quickly though, and soon I’m just trying to breathe more evenly in the warm embrace of my... my friend? Is it really that easy to be her friendxs? What does Pinkie Pie think of me, reacting so terribly to her real friend? I try to explain, saying quietly, “She’s a lot scarier in person.” But no, that was terrible. I just called her friend scary, when it’s me, and my weird... girly reaction that’s the problem. “There there, it’s alright,” Pinkie says, releasing me enough to sit beside me, and patting me on the back like I was a foal, “You doing okay now?” I’m afraid to look her in the eye. “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to think how to make it clear to her that I don’t hold anything against her friend. “What are you—” Pinkie asks, as it comes to me. “I’m just not...” I look at her earnestly, saying in a sweet, girly voice, “It’s just so different!” Sighing and looking away from her blue-eyed gaze, I tell Pinkie Pie, “I’m not used to... being this way. I didn’t think I would feel so s-scared about it. I couldn’t even think! I...” Stars, I am such a girl. “You’re talking about how you were a big, brave humin, instead of a timid little pony, huh?” Pinkie says with a hopeful smile. I start to tell her that it’s something else, a something that is involved with a certain foal bearing tunnel into my hips. But actually... is it because I’m a girl? I don’t know anything about how timid ponies are, and Pinkie just suggested that they were. Would I be crying into her chest at being verbally accosted by Twilight Sparkle, even if I was a stallion? It’s easier than telling her I used to have a dick. “Yeah, that’s it,” I say tentatively, “I’m just...” a mare? A wimp? An emotional wreck? “Ponies are really brave, though,” I try to reassure Pinkie Pie, “I’m just so much more...” What is even going on with me? Trying to imagine what could be different about me besides my hypothetically fertile reproductive passage, I lift a hoof and just... try to find a smile. I don’t know if I succeed. I feel kind of worn out and numb, honestly, but I manage a smile for Pinkie Pie. ...my cheeks are wet. “I’m just so much more emotional now,” I tell her nervously, “I haven’t been able to cry in... in a good long time. And now I can’t not cry!” “You want ponies to make you cry?” Pinkie asks me in genuine confoundment. Oh stars, if only she knew. If only she knew how much I’ve wanted to cry. “It’s a lot worse when you have so many tears inside,” I tell her frankly, “And you just can’t let them out.” Pinkie’s... smile weakens. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be a downer,” I tell her, holding up a hoof defensively, “I’m just trying to say how much I love being a pony m-mare.” “What do you mean?” Pinkie Pie asks innocently, “What else would you be?” “A–uh, j-just—” I stammer, realizing that I haven’t told Pinkie yet. I told Twilight, and... and she decided to send me home. I don’t want to hear that from Pinkie Pie. “Things are really ...different in my old verse,” I admit to her grudgingly, “Our bowls don’t make sense, and we can’t pull cannons out of thin air.” Pinkie Pie giggles at that, saying, “Guess I’m pretty unique, there! So, what else is different about this verse of yours?” I stare at her speechless for a moment, then stammer, “I–I was just joking about the party cannon!” “Well, good, because it is a joke!” Pinkie replies, with a wink of her baby blue eye. “So it—okay, sorry, I...” I say, trying to figure out if Pinkie Pie just said her party cannon was real, or if she said it was fake. I fail. “I shouldn’t make assumptions about you or anyone here,” I say in the voice of a glum girl, “It looks the same, but it could be totally different from what I expect. I keep forgetting that I really don’t know much about this world.” “What do you wanna know?” Pinkie Pie asks, sitting back from me, facing me and cocking her head in an adorable sort of confusion. Do you get to call things adorable when you’re adorable? That’s not my first question, but this is... something I’ve never had since coming to this world. This is actually an incredible opportunity. I’ve stumbled and fumbled my way so far, but I have no idea what I’m doing, or what sort of world I’ve really been dropped in. But Pinkie Pie is a native. She lives here, and she’s always lived here. She’s not just a native. She’s Pinkie Pie! And she just asked what I want to know? “I don’t know where to start!” I say with a shaky laugh, thinking furiously. If I ask the wrong questions I’ll just get Pinkie Pie answers, like how does your Pinkie Sense work, or questions like that. But if I can ask the right ones... Pinkie Pie knows things that other ponies don’t know. In the show, I mean, she knows secret things, forgotten things. “Well, take your time,” Pinkie says with a smile, standing up beside me. “But are you okay now? Like, really okay? I promise Twilight’s not gonna come barging in here again, not after she telepran away like that.” “What? No, I’m—” I start to reassure her, but an uneasy fear rises in my chest at the thought of Twilight barging in here, and... I’m not so sure I understand my own chest anymore. “I’m kind of glad she’s not coming back,” I tell Pinkie Pie cautiously, “But I don’t hold it against her. I’m just kind of... in a delicate place right now, and really could use some time to get used to this... verse. I haven’t even seen much of your ...restaurant?” “Bakery,” Pinkie Pie corrects casually, “And if you want I can show you around! I can’t really go running around town though, because I’m kinda working here.” I plant my forehooves on the ground and try to brace up on them. Oh stars, everything aches. Just how injured was I, wandering out for three days in the snow... naked? “I’m not... going to be running around town either,” I tell her wearily. “I feel so much better but I swear, everything hurts. I’ll just... just be a second. You don’t have to...” Pinkie Pie holds out a hoof to me. When I cautiously hook my forehoof in hers, the soft round pink pony pulls with a startling amount of strength, steadily lifting me right up to my... hooves. Huh. I just sort of tilt up onto them, like an unfolding lawn chair. “Take all the time you need,” she says with a... with her head darting towards me, and briefly nuzzling under my chin as I tilt my own head back in surprise. “I am gonna get back to my baking though, if you don’t mind,” Pinkie says, keeping her snout to herself after that, “Just let me know if you need any help. And if you have any questions, please do ask! Just a warning though, if you do go downstairs you better be ready. ” “Why’s that?” I ask, blinking at her and just... standing in place, trying not to move my aching muscles too much. “The ponies who run Sugarcube Corner are named Mr. Carrot and Mrs. Cup Cake,” Pinkie explains helpfully, “And not too long ago, we had two adorable little foals, named Pound and Pumpkin Cake. They’re not allowed upstairs into my room, but if you head downstairs, be ready, because they’re very rambunctious, and they’ll probably be curious to pieces about you!” “Oh, right! I do have a very important question,” I tell Pinkie Pie hastily, leaning towards her, sorely. “You can go then, while I take it... easy for a while. A-and maybe I can ask you more questions about your world, if you don’t mind, once I get downstairs.” “Sounds good to me!” Pinkie says, facing me squarely, and declaring, “Go ahead then, hit me with your best shot!” A beat, and she adds in a whisper, “That means your very important question.” “Right, right, sorr—right,” I say intelligently, wavering on my hooves. “I um... how do I go down... stairs?” Pinkie Pie helps me down the stairs, then heads to the kitchen, while a unicorn and a pegasus foal immediately run up to me and start climbing all over me. Well, Pound is the one climbing on my back. “Sorry I gotta...” Pinkie says with an apologetic wince. “No it’s okay,” I wave her off, “I’ll... just say hi to them, I guess,” I reply, looking down at the little orange filly named Pumpkin. “‘inkie ie!” the golden Pumpkin Cake tells me imperiously, apparently associating me with the baker, as the foal then starts nosing around my legs. “Okay, but once you’re done with them, come find me in the kitchen, and you can ask me all the questions you want!” Pinkie says with a bright smile. She trots off then, while I um... wince as I painfully sink down to my belly, to help Pumpkin who’s reaching up and trying to climb up my side, to be up where Pound is. “Y’know, ponies riding ponies is kinda weird,” I remark to the two in amusement, after I stagger to my feet again. Pumpkin responds by stuffing the end of my tail in her mouth and chewing on it. When did she...? Ew... how do I make her stop? “My tail’s dirty!” I whisper to her anxiously, “C’mon, leggo you shouldn’t be chewing on it. Pumpkin, that feels weird, please—” “Sorry, I’ll get those two,” a beautiful blue mare says, coming trotting up to me, as I hold up a forehoof, saying, “N-no, I really don’t mind.” Well, I do mind how Pound Cake is smacking my sore shoulder blades, but... Mrs. Cake saves me anyway. “Oh it’s no trouble, dearie,” Cup Cake says, and she is significantly larger than me when she walks over to me. She plucks Pound Cake off my back, and he flutters right to her wide, blue posterior, then she scruffs Pumpkin, who releases my tail and just dangles there, blinking up at me impassively. “You two are a couple of very lovely foals!” I declare, honestly in a daze. I didn’t think the twins would be this... cute! With their little button noses, and their beady little eyes, tiny little horns and wings, they’re just so adorable! It’s kind of comforting, actually. I was worried foals would be those weird little things like in the show, with their little button noses, and their beady little eyes and... wait a sec. Mrs. Cake goes trotting off with her foals, in a direction I probably shouldn’t follow. Because Pinkie went the opposite way, and also I’m too sore to turn around. Wincing with every step, I drag my screaming muscles into gear, hobbling through the brightly decorated gingerbread house, that is a lot more than just a gingerbread house. There’s one place I want to go right now, and I have no idea what it is, but I have an idea where it is. Pinkie’s headed out of sight by now, but I can follow the sound of Pinkie Pie pleasantly humming. I’m so curious what she does here, curious about so many things about this world. I approach a cool room that looks like it’s rimmed with kitchen cabinets, with counters of a puzzling shade of blue. As I head into it, I try to think what questions to ask Pinkie Pie. I hope she’ll be able to give me some of the answers that I so desperately need. Taking in a slow breath that expands my chest beneath me, rather than in front of me, I step one hoof after another, entering Pinkie Pie’s kitchen.