You wake up with your head at the feet of your bed, and your feet on your pillow. There's an overwhelming feeling of confusion rolling over you, but you're not sure what to do about it.
The worst part is that you feel like you've forgotten something important, but nothing is coming to mind.
Who knows, maybe you need to pick up something in the market, and you just forgot.
It was funny, actually. When you start to think about the 'market' it starts to ring a few bells. Distant bells, and you're not sure if they're warning bells or not, but they're still there.
Huh.
Well, you would figure it out later. If it was important enough, you would have remembered it.
Plus, Floofington the Second is making distressed dog noises since he can't see your head. Or assault your face until you wake up and take him out for a walk.
You groan, a sudden feeling of restlessness coming over you as you flop out of bed- bringing all of the sheets with you.
Again.
Somehow, you feel like it's going to be a long day today.
Oddly enough, you’re getting kind of nervous about it, too. Like, an abnormal amount.
----
You’re at home, calmly sipping a cup of tea as you look out over Ponyville. Your house was well-situated on a small hill outside the town that was perfectly isolated, and it always had a nice view.
Minus the good little doggo who refused to remove himself from your lap at the moment. That obstructed the view ever so slightly and ruined your self-imposed isolation.
But at least he was walked-out now, so you could stay here in contentment. Plus, some sacrifices have to be made for the good of mankind.
… And Floofy is a good doggo. May his throne be anywhere he pleases.
You reach over to your teapot to deal with a quickly-emptying cup, only to quickly discover that it’s empty too. That was fine, you’ve been sipping away all morning.
You slowly get up- giving Floofy all the time he needs to casually roll off you and impact the floor because he’s an idiot- grabbing your teapot as you head over to your kitchen. It’s a simple, well-organized place, but you have one objective here.
Earl grey. You have no clue why you had a sudden craving for it this morning, but there had to be no reason. It was objectively the best. You’ve loved it since you were young.
You open the cupboard that gives home to your stash of exotic coffees and less exotic teas, quickly fishing out the tin of glorious Picard-approved blend. Only for it to be completely empty.
That was your last pot. Even worse, you didn’t even realize that when you brewed it.
You’re incredibly disappointed. In yourself, and this outcome. You’d gotten enough groceries and entertainment (in the form of magazines and newspapers, because you’re a boring old man at 28 now) to last a week of silent solitude, but it looked like you’d have to go out again.
… Oddly enough, you really didn’t feel like going out today. You were getting hit with a lot of odd nostalgic feelings, actually.
It was probably just pony-land trying to force you into some kind of moral, being honest. It had happened before. Maybe it was ‘don’t lock yourself inside for weeks at a time’ or something like that.
With a shrug, you make the probably-correct decision of heading out anyways, holding your precious tin of brewed-wisdom close to your heart.
… You were going to try the kinds they ship back from New Mareland this time. Even if they apparently tasted super different.
And hey- even if they were expensive, you had one thing the other ponies didn’t.
Boopers.
And thus, you always had very large discounts, so long as you were insistent enough.
----
Ponyville is oddly quiet, and you can’t shake the feeling that you already knew it was going to be empty like this.
Though you probably should have brought Floofy, then.
Yet again, it’s probably the next moral or something. Maybe you’re getting Zecora’d for the second time since arriving. Maybe everyone ‘forgot’ about you, because you were stuck inside for so long, and infrequently came out.
Hardy har, universe. Har har.
Christ’s sake, sometimes you’re 90% sure you’re in a kid’s universe or something.
But at the same time, after picking up that book on pony biology a couple years back…
Let’s say that whatever you knew about horses before was confirmed. It was just minified.
Curiosity kills the innocence.
You’d like a cup of brain-bleach around now, but you’re probably not going to get it considering Ponyville is a ghost town!
“Hello?!” your voice echoes down the streets like a cheesy horror film, and you can even hear the most perfectly-timed wolves howl in the distance, too.
Too bad it’s broad daylight- that means you have plot-armour!
----
This was starting to get concerning. Something was definitely wrong. When you got closer to the town square and hit Sugarcube Corner, the place was deserted. You knew that for sure since the place was left wide open, doors unlocked and everything. You could- and did- explore every empty room in the house. Hell, there were still bits in the register. If you were less of a man, you could’ve easily just taken them.
It’s definitely worrying you. Pinkie lived there. The cakes and their kids lived there.
What was happening?
You sigh as you leave, looking around for a good direction to travel in. Heading towards the center still seemed like a good idea- you could probably check to see if Twilight was still around, at least. Ponyville’s castle was the next best thing to a fortress, so maybe everyone ended up there?
The odd feeling of familiarity hits you again, and you’re almost certain that nobody’s going to be there.
Still, it’s worth a shot. That feeling could’ve just come because of what happened a half-year ago.
The reason why you-uh… went to Canterlot in the first place.
----
Yep. It was as empty as junior high on the last day of school.
Every hallway and room in the castle was empty. It was just unlocked for posterity's sake.
You should start trusting your gut again, even if being impulsive has proven to get you into weird situations before.
To start the process, it’s best to check what gut-o is telling you about now.
Apparently, you have an odd sentiment about heading home and staying there for some reason.
Another couple of kilometres walking, probably. Fun in a bun.
No, really. Walking is great. Your favourite activity, probably.
----
You silently whistle a horrible amalgamation of at least 7 songs by Billy Joel to yourself as you make your way through the silent streets of Ponyville. In any other situation, it would’ve been relaxing. It would've been a great walk. But right now, you’re about 90% sure you have a personal crisis in the works.
More particularly, the silence in Ponyville has enlightened you to one simple thing: You’ve been alone for a lot longer than you realize.
In fact- the last time you can remember honestly interacting with another creature that didn’t involve a transaction, or playing the part of the pissed-off human… was six months ago, in Canterlot. With the freaking goddess of the sun. And even then, it wasn’t exactly a word-heavy situation!
You don't even know how you went this long without getting stir crazy at home.
To make matters worse, you’re starting to have a minor freak-out over how many things you miss from back home. You’d been fine with the disconnect for ages, sure, but after realizing how little you accurately remember from home without it being a meme or something? It’s stressing you out.
In fact, you’d started with Piano Man but lost yourself about halfway in, and through the rest of the song you’d been blindly feeling it out. But you haven’t gotten to anything that felt genuine.
And then there’s feeling genuine. You know what felt genuine when you arrived. The first couple of years, before Twilight’s house got blasted by he-who-shall-not-be-named. But after that, you lost track of time, completely. You were just facing every day by itself- content in your little house outside Ponyville, not dealing with everyone’s shit.
Hell, you’ve only kept track of your birthdays.
… And now, you’re pretty damned sure you miss dealing with everyone’s shit. It made up for whatever you forgot from home- since you were making something new of it all.
Hell, the school of brainwashing opened! There were tonnes of creatures to fuck with! Cultures to offend!
A legacy of assholishness to uphold!
…
In some ways, it felt cathartic to get your feelings in check. In others, you really need to apologize to Twilight over what happened before your completely unneeded visit to Canterlot- and then you need to give her a hug that’d probably last like 6 hours.
No, make that 12. And cuddles. Lots of cuddles.
That doesn’t exactly sound like the kind of thing mister ‘most pissed off member of equestrian society’ would say, but you’ve officially stopped giving a shit until you sort at least half of your problems out.
Plus, you got that rep after the Tirek shit went down. Not before.
The anger comes later.
None of this will stop the cathartic shouting in an empty town, though.
“Fuck!”
If it turns out that ponies really are hiding, the least you can do is increase the younger population’s vocabulary while you’re at it.
Closing the massive doors behind you as slowly as you can in an attempt to make as little noise as possible, you have to pause for a moment.
What the fuck just happened? Okay, bad question. You know exactly what just happened. Princess Celestia- the bloody goddess of the sun herself!- had just decided to snuggle up against you for the past…
Looking outside one of the massive windows, you can clearly see the moon has risen over the horizon.
… half a day, since you arrived at the castle around noonish.
Even weirder, you snuggled back for exactly as long. Well, other than like… the hour-or-more of just standing there.
… You’re not sure how to feel about that. You’re not sure how to feel about that at all.
You’ll have plenty of time to think over this at home though, so it’s probably prudent that you head back as soon as possible!
If only you hadn’t missed your train, because it came at sunset!
Hahah…
You can only sigh. At least you missed a train to be with the Princess when she needed you?
…
You’re getting nothing back for this, aren’t you?
She’s going to forget it happened in like a week. Maybe get a letter about it in a year or something, but drenched in politics-talk. You’ll put five bits on that bet.
The ponies around here are somehow both completely nuts, and amnesiacs. You rolled extremely well on the multiversal dice.
… You really couldn’t hate them though. Not when there are ponies like the big white one in there. No matter how much you try.
You probably shouldn’t be smiling this much.
Thinking about their transgressions against mankind will solve that problem.
Or how easy it is to get fed up with everything. Especially any interruption to your solitude.
Fucking Twilight.
You turn around, only to be greeted by the last sight you wanted to see today.
Your first prediction from before came true. The guards had barricaded every entrance to the hall, and several hundred of them were swarming the room, a look of abject terror on their faces.
If you weren’t tossed into the throne-room by them, you might’ve been more concerned when they started to stare at you like you held the secrets to reality. Plus the infinity stones.
And like you have murderous intent.
Oh, but that look definitely extends to ‘if he hasn’t fixed the problem, we’re going to kill him.’
Okay yeah, a quick mental note to see if that 'Anon has to solve all princess-related problems' law has passed anytime soon.
…
So now what?
There were several paths you could take here, but you’re 90% sure that if you don’t move quickly enough, you’re about to die. Hard.
…
Well, being stupid fared you will in there, right? And that's already basically half of your identity to these ponies by now.
Ahem "FEARFUL LITTLE PONIES, I HAVE FIXED YOUR PRINCESS AND BROUGHT PEACE TO THE LAND!" you start your proclamation with a booming voice, but just as quickly as you start, you lose your train of thought.
The lead-off to your words just leave the room as silent as it was when you entered. Awkwardness starts to fill the air. And not the anime kind of awkwardness.
You try to keep going, "FOR MY SERVICES, I DEMAND GOLD, A NOBLE TITLE…" but you lose your train of thought once again.
To cover up your complete failure, you cough into your arm, feigning a sudden bout of sickness.
Yeah, you're about to get impaled from 9 different directions.
Hahah…
“W-WOMEN, AND…”
Floofington, enjoy your inheritance.
“... MAGIC! Y-YES! THE SECRETS TO MAGIC!”
You definitely 100% haven't started to cower beneath the dumbfounded stares the ponies below are giving you.
Why… why did there have to be a staircase going up to the throne-room anyways? You suddenly feel extremely isolated.
One of the guards dropped a spear, and you definitely didn’t let out a girly scream, either.
You laugh to yourself, coming to remember one of the… more odd moments that occurred right after you connected with someone. Well, someone who probably doesn’t remember you beyond reports from Twilight, or something like that.
Probably.
You want to keep those five bits.
The laughter comes to an end when you come to realize how quickly you reverted to… Well, your less than optimistic side, to put it lightly.
You didn’t even improve after your stupid outburst either. You didn’t really drop your guard- but granted, that was probably because if you had, you might’ve gotten speared.
But honestly, where did your spirit of adventure go?
Probably the same place your mind went after the library went kaboom. To worry-ville over literally everything.
You sigh, trying to push the feeling away.
…
It isn’t working that well, actually. The thoughts are clinging. Time to listen to mr. gutto, then. Best to start to train it back in!
‘Hey, Anon! Turn the fuck around, danger sense, activate!’
Que?
You casually use your next stride to spin around (something years of pacing taught you) to face what was probably extreme danger.
But hey, living dangerously was the theme of the day.
…
And, now you’re facing your first pony of the day.
One that was… oddly familiar.
She was a night guard. That was obvious enough by the armour. She was also one of those weird bat-like ponies you’d been told about once or twice.
She had a weird kind of look to her, other than that. Lots of blues, like a cheesy sci-fi PMC. Also a bit… bigger than you’d expect for one of these bat-horses. Probably a training thing.
Oh, and her eyes were lime-fucking-green, which bothered you a lot more than the catlike thing they had going on.
It wasn’t natural. At least, not like AJ’s.
The feeling of familiarity only grew when said unnaturally-eyed bat-horse looked at you like the holy grail.
With emphasis put on the object part.
…
“Uhhhhhh…” You shuffle awkwardly in place while the bat-horse gives you the most scrutinizing look since your grade-school teacher met your father.
In other words, you’re 90% sure if there’s a single scratch on you, you’re about to get carted off to the emergency ward while the swat-team bursts in.
Judging by the guard’s armour, the swat-team thing is probably a lot closer to the truth than initially thought. Except you’re not sure if the swat-team is coming for you or not.
She takes in a sharp breath, and you wince on reflex.
“Are you Anonymous?” The bat-horse blurts out, expression suddenly becoming unreadable.
You’re boned. Here comes the law to… actually, you’re not sure right now. But something. Maybe part of the purification bureau, which probably exists.
“Uhh… sure, yeah, let’s go with that.” Your answer is as intelligent as most of the answers you give.
The bat-pony shuffles in place for a moment, finally showing a bit of nervousness. Odd for a guard, sure, but it put you a bit at ease.
“So. Uh…”
You cannot get words doing the good.
…
Actions speak louder than words, eh?
You have one of the oldest tricks in the book on your side, anywho.
After exchanging awkward glances for another few seconds, you squat down to trying-to-be-eye-level-but-failing. God, are you glad that you had enough restraint to only use your tricks in Ponyville after…
Your danger sense is flaring a bit. You’re not exactly sure why.
You shrug it off and start the slow endeavour of extending an arm towards the pony’s snoot. It was the only option, and it felt natural.
Her breathing gets funny, and her eyes go full cat-mode, full attention going towards your extending index-finger. Your danger sense is screaming bloody murder.
Huh. Maybe you should actually listen to yourself, and listen to your gut?
Nah. This was the funny option. Princess-taming levels of funny options.
*Boop*
You take another hand and put it on your chin, doing your best Thinker impression as you watch for her reaction.
Yet again, the bat-horse looks about ready to implode. A different reaction than most gave you, actually.
Danger senseius maximus.
You try and retract your arm as every single fibre in your being is saying ‘you’re about to fucking die,’ and you finally listen.
The bat-horses eyes get even narrower than before, and her gaze locked onto yours.
Instinct says to put your hands on your ears, and to make a run for it.
You only get your hands on your ears in time, but the point-blank range makes it ultimately useless when… it happens.
“AAAAAAAAAAA-”
Suddenly, there’s a hoof embedded in your side. One of those crazy guards is shaking you.
Oh, now you see. They’re going to find your weak spots and kick you to death! Brutes! Barbarians!
The door behind you shifts, and you can’t help but look back in reflex. You also decide to stop screaming.
The pony shaking you finally stops.
…
The room is oddly a lot more silent now. Probably because your screams aren’t reverberating off the walls, or something.
You most likely terrified the guards too.
Worth it.
You hear a pony stumble away from the door behind you, closing it clumsily behind them.
“H-he… HE DID IT! HE’S A HERO!”
Excuse you, what?
“H-HE FIXED THE PRINCESS! HE MADE HER BETTER!”
Why the fuck- the guy sounds like he’s eight. A tad bit forced (like literally every pony with a weird voice, being honest), but still eight.
Wow, they were really lowering the standards for their guards…
Or he was uh. A ‘special case.’
Fuck, now you feel bad.
Also, what?
“HE DID IT!”
Mister-eight starts dancing around- judging by the sound of his hooves on the floor- crying out happily that you ‘fixed the princess’ repeatedly.
Calling you the ‘Hero of Canterlot’ as well.
Either they have very low standards here, or these guards were all too incompetent to cheer up the princess.
Or terrified.
They are basically living goddesses.
Holy fuck you just booped and hugged a goddess. You’re a legend. A true hero.
Probably not the same kind of hero mister-eight is crying about, but holy shit.
…
The room starts to feel a bit lighter, and a few more guards poke their heads through the door. A few mumble about how the room is empty, but the first few who showed up after eight’ seemed to have seen the princess.
Smiling like an idiot, reportedly.
A true Equestrian hero. The man who tamed the princess.
Oh god, you’re going to laugh about this for weeks!
And probably be super paranoid that you’re going to get shipped off to prison after the smiles wear off.
‘Treason against the holiest snoot’ sounded like a law here.
You should actually try to study Equestrian law. You’ve been here for years, this is kind of something you need to think about. Especially since you’re a home-owner.
…
“How’d he manage that, though?” You hear a guard pipe up from the side of the crowd. When you raise your head to look for him, it’s easy to see who asked that. Since he’s, y’know, sending you the dirtiest look known to man.
Yep. He’s going to find out.
Questioning your holiest method of making princesses happy.
Dickhead.
That’s his name now. By law.
Dickhead the fifth.
There wasn’t a one-through-four, but still.
He has the usual guard-shroud uniform on, so you can’t really distinguish him much. But all you need is that dirty look, and accusatory voice.
You raise a middle-finger, fully knowing that he’d have no clue what that means.
It makes you feel better. And less imminently-going-to-die-ish.
“Yeah, how?” Mister eight comes to a stop in his dancing, echoing the thoughts of Dickhead.
Fuck’s sake-
The rest of the cavalcade-of-incoming-death follows not too soon afterwards.
You don’t want to reveal your secrets. It’s the first rule of magic!
Okay, time to stop freaking out over nothing. It’s tiring.
“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”
Your intelligence-spree continues from earlier.
“Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”
How are you going to put this? Would they even know what a boop is?
Actually… that sounds like a very, very good thing.
Maniacal thoughts are coming.
“hhhhhh-Iboopedher?”
That doesn’t mean you said it with any eloquence at all though.
You weren’t a wordsmith. You need paper. And lots of time.
Dickhead almost seems to sneer at you, “You whated her?”
“I-uh…”
Wait, what if ‘boop’ has an entirely different kind of meaning here?
Oh god.
Yeah, it’s time to avoid the word ‘snuggle.’
Dickhead looks ready to throw an insult at you, but a hoof comes out of the crowd and smacks him over the head instead.
“Ow, what the hell, Night?!”
“Stop acting like a dick! Let him talk, none of us could make her smile like that! He deserves a bit of respect, at least.”
Dickhead does the most childish thing he possibly could, mumbling her words to himself before capping it off with a ‘pblthh.’
Wherever she hit next, it made him yelp like a kicked puppy.
Judging by how none of the guards even flinched at that, the two probably had some sort of history.
You were very intrigued.
Sadly, the guard who saved you sent you a look that posed the same question that the rest were.
Also, her eyes are green.
Really fucking green.
You need to ask questions later. But for now, you should make an attempt to not get dungeon’d. Or republic-of-france'd.
“Well, I-uh-” Green-eyes (Night?) comes out of the crowd while you’re trying to find a voice, giving you a line of sight on her. She comes over to your prone form as calmly as you could possibly imagine for a guard- and considering that she seemed to be a night guard, that said something about the day guard- giving you a few nudges to encourage you to sit up.
You only do it because you’re starting to feel the affects of carpet-face in front of the door here.
You clear your throat, continuing on from earlier, “I-uh, booped the princess.”
As the words hit you again, you have to put a hand over your mouth to stop laughter from coming out.
Goddamnit, you booped a princess!
Green-eyes raises an eyebrow and gives you the most questioning look you’ve seen in a while.
After you battle down a few more laughs, you shrug and point towards her snoot.
Her eyebrow only raises another inch.
It’s time for science.
“I’m gonna ask a stupid question now. What would happen if I put a finger on your muzzle? Or more particularly, your nose?”
Her look morphs into one of great concerns. But the eyebrow still never changes.
“Okay, yeah. That’s a bit of a stupid question. Nothing would happen, except I’d get a bit annoyed, I guess?”
Oh dear lord, she doesn’t know.
They don’t know.
Actually, you don’t really know either- you just got a positive reaction to acting like an idiot to the multi-millennia ruler of a species-encompassing nation.
Ah fuck, you only live once. If this turns out to be mundane, at least you accomplished something with your day.
*Boop.*
Turns out that you may have some sort of dark power, because almost immediately Green-eyes starts to grin weirdly. And with the fangs- you’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not.
Her gaze is trapped on your finger for a minute or two- almost like she’s literally trapped there- before she slowly tries to regain some composure.
The grin disappears, but she has an even weirder expression. Almost like she’s going to implode.
Christ, at least this affected ponies differently?
Or was it a species thing?
The other ponies start giving her a weird look. Halfway between the fear that something they know is going to happen is going to happen, and confusion.
She takes a weird sharp breath, and seems to be using every ounce of her willpower to not do…
Something.
Well, you can’t have that. Dickhead back there probably needs something to tease her over endlessly.
Channelling knowledge from your first year here, you take your free hand and move it in the optimal position for ear-scritches.
You’re going to die doing what you love.
*Scri-
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-”
Everything is on pain.
Not fire, pain.
Your ears are probably leaking the remnants of what used to be your ear-drums, and your bones are rattling enough to put a skeleton to shame.
Is this the way you die?
Booping a guard?
Fuck, now you see why Ponyville was empty. This was a hit request. A hit on you, to test your resolve and ability to resist your dark powers.
You failed.
Ow.
Wait, the screams of the damned stopped. Or are your ears just jelly at this point?
Some questions are better left unanswered.
Wait, suddenly you can move your everything. Your head hurts like hell, but somehow you manage to get on your feet.
There’s a blue blob in front of you, which only elicits one response from you:
“G-get those admin points up…”
Only now do you realize that you’re seeing quadruple.
Dear god, what kind of unholy thing could do this to you?
You hear something bang against something metal, eliciting a hiss out of you.
It sounded like wood.
France freaks out and runs up to you, making painful mumbling noises. She tries to shove you in another direction, too.
You politely tell France to go shove a baguette in her jaw and turn towards the wood sounds.
Woah! It’s a treant! Except like, small. And dog-like. You think.
Thinking is bad. Thinking hurts.
It’s time to shut off the brain. It’s time to defend your home from trees. Technically the Ponyville market but-
France makes panicky noises and moves in front of you to block your path of conquest oncoming.
Or maybe it’s because the wood-dogger charges, howling in its wake.
The level of volume is bothering you, and simply unacceptable.
After all, you can be louder. And you can stand your ground, even if you feel like you’re about to tip over.
Now, just a subject…
…
There is only one appropriate response to this situation.
You have to burn it. And if you have to burn it, there is only one thing you truly need to channel this day.
“VULKAN LIVES!” You channel your inner pyromaniac, looking for anything that'd start a fire around you while screaming like a banshee. You manage to stun the wood-dogger with your holy cry. It's certain- The Emperor has blessed this day.
You spot a firestarter on a vendor's stall.
You make a mad dash for it.
After crossing 2 feet of battlefield, you crash into France and send yourself tumbling into the abandoned vendor’s stall.
You hit your head on at least 30 metallic things.
To put it short, you’re MIA.