And So?

by Rokas

Chapter 3 - I Am a Sick, Sick Man

The day passed slowly for the green pegasus, having as he did very little to do and nothing to entertain his mind. He tried to relax and fall asleep but a strong aversion to napping had been part of his personality for years, and despite the changeover into pony form he retained that dislike of interrupting his conscious time with something as unproductive as slumber. Not that I'm being productive now, the newly self-named Thunderbird thought, with a sigh. Rather to the contrary, I think I've nearly driven myself mad. Well, madder. Slightly... Okay, I was bat-chucking insane before, and now I've just amped it up a tad bit, happy?

He grumbled at that. Of course I'm not happy. I've never liked my insanity nor these ridiculous internal dialogues.

Yet you keep indulging in them, don't you?

Yes. What was that line from Braveheart? 'In order to find his equal an Irishman is forced to talk with God?'

You ain't God.

No sheet, Sherlock. I'm not Irish, either.

You're descended from Irish.

And Norwegians and Magyar. But what I was referring to was the fact that without anyone else to talk to I am forced to talk to myself.

They say that's only a problem when you not only answer, but argue with yourself. And how often do you do that? Aside from now, that is.

I'll have you know the arguments I have with myself and the characters living in my head are entirely safe, sane, and not at all revolve around ponies.

I never said anything about ponies.

...Blast. Confound you, woman!

I'm not a woman, I'm a duck.

The sound of the door opening distracted Thunderbird from his increasingly silly internal dialogue, and he raised his head off of the bed to see nurse Redheart walk into the ward. The white earth pony politely smiled at him as she approached the bedside. “Hello, Thunderbird, how are you feeling?”

“Better,” the pegasus replied. “Ankle definitely hurts a lot less, now.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Redheart said as she bent her head down to read the chart doctor Suture had hung on Thunderbird's bed after lunch. “The doctor will be by in an hour to give you a final once-over before releasing you, but I don't think there will be any issues,” she added as she brought her head back up to face the green pegasus. “Aside from that, you have a visitor and I wanted to make sure you felt like receiving one before I let her in.”

“A visitor?” Thunderbird asked, his expression showing confusion. “Who? I don't know anyone here.”

Redheart suppressed the urge to raise an eyebrow at the other pony's odd word use as she gave him another polite smile. “One of the mares who brought you in wanted to make sure you're okay and speak with you, if that's alright?”

Thunderbird blinked at that, and he took a moment to think. Soon enough, however, he nodded. “I don't see why not,” he said. Besides, if I'm going to be stuck here then I should really be nice to these ponies. No need to ostracize myself right off the bat by being a jerk.

“Good, I'll go let her in,” Redheart said, before she turned and walked back out of the room. Thunderbird lied on the bed and quietly wondered who it would be while he waited. He didn't have long to speculate before the doors opened again and Redheart returned with a gray, blonde-maned, walleyed pegasus in tow.

Sweet snicker-snack, it's Derpy! The stallion thought, and then immediately chastised himself for using the derisive nickname. Ditzy Doo. Use Ditzy Doo. Like Scooby Doo. I wonder if there's a connection there?

“Mister Thunderbird,” Redheart said as she and the gray pegasus drew close. “May I present miss Ditzy Doo, Ponyville's best mail carrier and one of the two mares who found you yesterday.”

Ditzy blushed at the description. “Please, miss Redheart, you flatter me too much,” she said, her voice betraying a faint Estuary accent. She then turned her attention to the stallion lying on the bed. “I'm glad to meet you, sir.”

Sweet mother of pi, she's English! Thunderbird just sat there in shock for a moment as this ran through his head. Doctor Whoof fans would wet themselves in joy if they could hear her now!

“Mister Thunderbird?” Redheart asked, startling the green pegasus out of his reverie. “You seemed out of it for a moment. Are you all right?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I was just woolgathering a bit,” Thunderbird answered sheepishly, and then turned to Ditzy. “It's a pleasure to meet you, miss Doo. I understand I have you to thank for my rescue.”

“Oh, not just myself,” Ditzy replied with a smile. “I did get some help from miss Fluttershy when I- I say, are you alright?” She asked upon seeing the green pegasus tense up.

“Er, yes, I'm fine,” Thunderbird replied, closing his eyes briefly as he struggled to get his thoughts and emotions under control. Dammit, not Fluttershy! She would've seen the dead manticore and oh God oh God she would feel so bad and now I feel bad and dammit! “I just was thinking of something that popped into my head,” he continued and opened his eyes.

“Well, I'll let you two talk then,” nurse Redheart interjected into the brief pause in the conversation. “You can stay until five, miss Doo.”

“Thank you, nurse,” the gray pegasus replied. Redheart nodded and then turned and walked off, heading for the doors while Ditzy returned her attention to the stallion. “So, how are you healing up?” She asked, curious.

“Quite well, thank you,” Thunderbird replied, as he managed a smile. “Doctor Suture mentioned that there might be some scarring on my chest, but I don't mind that. A scar just shows you were stupid enough to try something, and lucky enough to survive it.”

Ditzy laughed at that. “I've heard similar in my time,” she said, and then looked around casually. Her manner shifted a bit as she saw that Redheart had left the room and closed the doors behind her, and the gray pegasus turned her suddenly straight gaze back to the stallion on the bed. “Probably from the same place you did.”

Thunderbird noted the change in her demeanor, and he raised an eyebrow in response. “You'll pardon me, miss, if I say I find that unlikely.”

“As unlikely as a human being put into Equestria and turned into a pony?” Ditzy asked, her voice utterly serious.

Thunderbird froze again at the question, his eyes going wide for a moment. Soon enough they narrowed, and he looked over the other pegasus intently. “And how the Hell do you know that?” He asked, his voice low.

“I lied just a bit about when I came upon your battle,” Ditzy replied, blushing slightly though her tone remained serious. “I saw you land the final blow and then went to get help to carry you. But more importantly, I heard what you said just before you dropped the rock. The hat you wore was also a strong hint, as well.”

“I see,” the green pegasus said, his voice soft. His gaze swept around the room once before he stared intently into the mare's yellow eyes. “Are humans common knowledge here, then?”

“Hardly,” Ditzy scoffed. “Quite unknown, in fact.”

“Then how do you know about us?” Thunderbird pressed.

Ditzy raised her eyebrow at the stallion as she replied. “It's a long story, and I'm not comfortable sharing it here,” she said, and then glanced behind her to make sure the nurse hadn't returned. “It should suffice to say, however, that I do know a bit about your birth race, and even the fact that in some realities parts of Equestria are showcased on the telly.”

“Hmm,” Thunderbird hummed, and then fell silent as he thought for a moment. “I find your ideas intriguing, and wish to subscribe to your newsletter,” he finally said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Ditzy laughed at the joke. “A funny pony, I see,” she said, and then nodded to the stallion. “And rational enough not to launch into hysterics or violence, too.”

“Oh there's time for those later if I feel like it,” Thunderbird replied with a smile. It faded quickly, however. “But seriously, I'm not here to cause trouble. Hell, I don't even know why I'm here, other than the idea that this is a very, very bad fanfiction.”

“Oh dear,” Ditzy sighed. “That could be unpleasant. Self-insertion of some sort, I take it?”

“Only the worst from other-me,” Thunderbird replied with a huff. “If that is the case and Pantheistic Solipsism holds true to Heinlein's postulation.”

“Ugh,” Ditzy said, bringing a hoof up to press against her face. “You would have to be a fan of his.”

“Hey,” the green pegasus snapped. “He was a dang good author!”

“Who did more to weaken the Fourth Wall than every fanfiction crossover combined by enabling them to exist in the first place,” Ditzy retorted after lowering her hoof. “Good author or not, that makes him and any alternate you writing these events rather unpopular with me.”

Thunderbird had to think for a moment to work his way through the gray pegasus' sentence. Then he facehoofed himself. “We're getting so meta on this it's ridiculous.”

“Indeed,” Ditzy replied, and then sighed. “Alright, we can't affect the meta level, save by trying to raise the author's ire and him replying with unpleasantness.”

“And we don't want that,” Thunderbird interjected. “Because if he is another me, then his and my idea of dealing with uncooperative characters usually involves slapping them with self-hovering fish. Then it gets weird.”

Ditzy blinked a bit in surprise at this statement and then stared at the green stallion, who blushed. “I really like absurdist, surreal humor,” Thunderbird explained.

“Monty Python strikes again, I see,” Ditzy muttered, and then shook her head. “Right. Look, I've been in this situation before, so take my advice: just try to forget about the meta. You can't change it and it will only drive you crazy thinking about it.”

Thunderbird frowned at that, but he nevertheless nodded in agreement. “Fair enough. We'll put that aside for now, then,” he said. “So where does that leave us?”

Ditzy sighed again and took a moment to straighten her thoughts. “Well, doctor Suture said you were going to be released soon. Come by my house afterward and we can talk about things,” she explained, and then offered a small smile. “Despite my tautness, I really do want to help. 'Paying it forward' as the saying goes.”

“I see,” Thunderbird said. “I look forward to speaking further with you on this, miss Doo.”

“Likewise,” Ditzy replied. “To find my house, just take a left after leaving the clinic and then the last right before the street you're on dead-ends, then the next left onto a dirt path and follow that until it reaches my house on the outskirts of town. The path runs right up to my door so you can't miss it.

“As for now, I have an errand to run,” Ditzy continued. “So I shall take my leave of you.”

“Of course, miss,” Thunderbird replied, bowing his head towards the other pegasus. “Until later, then.”

* * * *

Later came, as it always does, and Thunderbird found himself discharged from the clinic with a clean bill of health and a quiet, if forceful, word from doctor Suture about 'staying out of trouble.' The green pegasus had been surprised, as well, by the fact that his bill had already been paid by Ditzy Doo, and this made him redouble his determination to speak with the much maligned mail mare again. I thought for sure I'd have to stay here and get a job to pay the tab. I hope I can do something to pay Ditzy back for the help.

He glanced around as he walked slowly, taking in the sights of the small town that had become so famous in some circles. Thunderbird saw none of the major sights, save the tops of the town hall and the unmistakable Sugarcube Corner in the distance, yet the quaint building style was familiar and the sight of the few ponies on the road in this part of town made the pegasus smile softly. Freakin' adorable things, ain't they? He asked himself.

Giant heads, huge eyes, and somewhat stubby limbs; all engineered to evoke the protective response one feels towards infants, a voice – his voice – answered him.

Oh, stop being so crass. They're cute and adorable and I just want to give them hugs.

God, could you be more of a woman?

Shut up. Men don't have to be copies of Duke Nukem, or Chuck Norris' characters. It's okay to like cute things.

The voice didn't answer him, which let Thunderbird return his attention to his walk and pony watching. It was during the turns at the latter that the stallion noted that he was getting some curious looks in return. Probably the hat, Thunderbird mused. He had been elated to find that the few possessions that had come through with him had been recovered by Ditzy and Fluttershy, albeit his hat's chin strap had been broken and the fabric torn. Maybe I can get that fixed, he thought, and then sighed as he realized what that meant in this town: Rarity. Well, I can do that. Just go in, ask for a repair, simple as that. No need for excessive interaction, quiaff?

Aff, star colonel, aff, Thunderbird replied to himself, a wan smile spread on his muzzle. But first, to Ditzy Doo I go! Hi ho, hi ho, to Ditzy Doo I go!

The terrible butchery of a song bounced his his head as he moved from a walk to a trot, and the distance melted away as Thunderbird followed the gray pegasus' directions. Soon he was moving out of Ponyville proper and heading along the indicated dirt path as it wound westward. He didn't have far to go, however, as Ditzy Doo's house was not far removed from town. Only a few hundred yards. Enough for a bit of extra privacy but not way the heck out there; the kind of house I'd own back home if I weren't poor, Thunderbird thought as he approached the two-story cottage. It was built rather mundanely and in accordance with the favored local style, though unlike most other homes the green pegasus saw that the mailmare had hung a sign on the outside, next to her door:

Ditzy Dew and Dinky.

716 White Sand Way

NO SOLICITORS

Thunderbird did a double-take as he read the sign. Ditzy DEW? All this time we've been misspelling her name? He facehoofed at that, and then sighed. So much for the Scooby connection. Hmm, 'The Scooby Connection.' Sounds like a pop alternative band. Heck, it probably is one.

He pushed aside the idle musing and moved the hoof from his face and brought it up to knock against the door. A muffled call of “one minute” answered him, and the stallion sat down on his haunches to wait patiently.

Ditzy Dew opened the door a moment later, her eyes spread in her classic 'derpy' look, though this evaporated into thin air once she saw who had knocked. “Ah, you're right on time,” she said, and then stepped back. “Please, come in.”

“Thank you, miss Dew,” Thunderbird said as he stood back up again and then walked into the cottage. Once into the foyer, he paused to take off his hat with a hoof and then pressed it into one of his saddlebags.

“Ah, a gentlestallion,” Ditzy observed with a smile as she closed the door and then trotted past her guest. “If you would, please leave your bags by the door and then come into my parlor. I have tea set up if you are so inclined?”

“Never had tea before,” Thunderbird said as he shimmied the saddlebags off of his back – not as hard to get used to these things as I thought – and then followed Ditzy into a room that was on the cozy side of 'small'. Two low-slung couches and a coffee table between them filled most of the available space, though there was also a small end table that held a variety of knick-knacks of indeterminate design. “But I'm always open to trying new things,” the green pegasus added as he sat down pony style on one couch after Ditzy waved him to it.

“Good to hear,” Ditzy said as she focused on the tea service sitting on the coffee table. Carefully, she bent her head down and grasped the handle of a teapot in her mouth before slowly pouring two cups. “Would you like sugar?” She asked, after she had set the pot back down and begun to reach for a covered bowl.

Thunderbird nodded. “Please. I'm afraid my American tastes would demand a bit of sweetness,” he said, smiling somewhat sheepishly.

“I thought that was where you were from,” Ditzy said in a conversational tone as she uncovered the bowl and then grasped a set of tongs in her teeth. She used them to pick out three cubes of sugar for her guest before picking a single one for herself, and then returned the items to their proper settings. “I've been there a few times. Well, some version of there.”

“Oh?” Thunderbird asked as the gray pegasus sat down. “You surprise me yet again, miss Dew. I didn't think inter-dimensional travel was so easy,” he added as he reached for his teacup and a spoon, careful to make sure his hooves could actually pick up and hold the devices.

“Not for most ponies, it isn't,” Ditzy replied as she picked up her own cup and then took a careful sip. “But as I'm sure you've noted by now, I'm not like most ponies.”

“That would be an understatement of English proportions,” Thunderbird observed, and then took a cautious sip from his cup. “Mm, not bad,” he said, setting the cup down.

“Thank you, it's my personal blend,” Ditzy said as she shifted in the couch to get comfortable. “Well then, I believe it's time to explain myself,” she added. “It's a bit of a story, but I should really start at the beginning for you to understand it well.”

Thunderbird nodded to his hostess. “I don't exactly have anywhere else to be,” he friendlily said with a smile.

Ditzy smiled back before she looked off to the side to gather her thoughts. “It started, really, when I was a young filly,” she said, returning her gaze to the stallion sitting across from her. “I would see things that no other pony could see. Strange shapes and colors, odd wrinkles and folds I never had the words for. I don't know if seeing them affected my eyes, or my eyes being “derped” as the vernacular goes enables me see them, but when my eyes drift I can make out these shapes at will.

“Of course, when I tried telling other ponies about these things, they thought me unwell in the head.” Ditzy paused at this and then sighed. “My lack of vocabulary to describe the strange artifacts only furthered their confusion, as did my staring into what they perceived as empty space with my eyes askew. Doctors looked at me and pronounced that I simply was “special” in that way that is reserved for those of deficient faculties.”

“Well, that sounds familiar,” Thunderbird mumbled, and then blushed when he saw Ditzy giving him an odd look. “Sorry. Just that when I was a kid the so-called “experts” made the same proclamation about me because I “asked too many questions” at school.”

“At school?” Ditzy repeated, sounding surprised. “Isn't that what schooling is for?”

“Apparently not, if you're a lazy union teacher trying to do the bare minimum of work the school requires to collect your paycheck,” Thunderbird growled. “I had excellent teachers as well, and God bless 'em 'cuz they're half the reason I didn't end up killing myself. But I don't think I can forgive the coldhearted factory-worker mentality of the schlubs who threw me in an “emotionally handicapped” class and then washed their hands of me because my curiosity made me “difficult”. Looking back on it, I'm sure those two years of those classes screwed up my development, because before them I had no trouble making friends, and afterwards it was a living Hell for me to socialize.” He fell silent for a moment, and then sighed. “I'm sorry, miss Dew. You were telling your story, not asking for mine.”

“That's quite all right,” Ditzy replied, giving the stallion a warm smile. “It's nice to know I wasn't alone in that situation.” She nodded as the stallion smiled back at her, and then continued. “But yes, as you have undoubtedly surmised by now the things I were seeing were indeed quite real. Eventually I became fed up with the treatment and I decided I was going to prove it to everypony by catching one of those shapes so I could finally make ponies see it.

“Imagine my surprise then when one early summer's evening I ran straight at one of those shapes near the ground, leaped at it, and then found myself in the bright sun of a spring morning.” She paused at that to take a sip of her tea. “Not only that, but I was in the recess yard of a school, surrounded by strange colts and fillies I had never seen before. Fortunately, they were rather distracted by an earth pony filly doing something with a hoop of some sort, so nopony noticed me appear, but it was rather frightening to me. I frantically looked around and saw the shape I had just jumped at behind me, and I instantly figured out it wasn't a thing, but a path of some sort. I waited for the other children to wander off after that one filly before I turned around and jumped back to where I had started.”

“Wait a second,” Thunderbird said, raising a foreleg. “I saw that episode, and the little filly Deerr, I mean Ditzy,” he quickly corrected himself, blushing slightly. “That is, they showed on the TV. I thought it was just an artifact of the show creators having no time to waste on background characters.”

“It probably was,” Ditzy replied. “But remember, if there are infinite universes then no matter how unconnected they are, the events in one will match the fiction of another.”

Thunderbird gave her a pensive look. “Are you sure you're not an author's tract?”

“I think that spot is taken by you,” Ditzy replied in a slight huff. “Didn't we agreed not to drag meta into this?”

“Right, right,” Thunderbird said, and then sighed. “Sorry. Please continue, miss Dew.”

Ditzy nodded at his words, though she waited a moment to sip at her tea again. “Very well. I suppose given the talk of other universes I can skip over some of the more drawn out portions of my story. Suffice it to say, those 'shapes' and 'things' I saw were in fact non-Euclidean geometries of folds in space-time and even the spirals of trans-dimensional bridges.”

“Ponies have words for these?” Thunderbird asked, his curiosity too great to check. “And know who Euclid was?”

“No, we don't,” Ditzy replied, unaffected by the interruption. “When I was young I just called them “paths.” Paths that only I could see, and apparently only I could traverse, as other ponies walked right through them without effect. I realized even I could pass through them, if I so wanted, by a simple matter of will. Of course, it helps being able to see them before I run into one, which is why on that show you mention you may see me often with my eyes askew.”

“I see,” Thunderbird replied, and then fell silent. He took a sip from his tea as he thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Alright, so you can see shortcuts through time-space and even realities. May I then suppose you've learned about such concepts, humans, and even the show by traveling along these paths?”

“Indeed,” Ditzy answered, evenly. “As I grew older I realized I could go places other ponies couldn't, and I reveled in it a bit. That's when I acquired my cutie mark.” She paused then to briefly unfurl a wing and used it to wave back towards her flank.

“I've been meaning to ask about that, if I may,” Thunderbird said, and then waited while Ditzy gave him a polite smile and nodded. “I would have asked what it was for, but I suppose your talent is traversing the ordinarily untraversable. So I would instead ask how do bubbles fit into that?”

Ditzy chuckled at the question. “I wondered that myself, until one of the universes I went to had a nice human gentleman who was rather friendly and unflappable about seeing a talking, flying pony. He explained that the bubbles are actually representations of the wormholes I use, or so he claimed using mathematics that were far over my head. I find that rather odd because the shapes I see don't look like bubbles, but it's the best explanation I've heard so far.”

Thunderbird kept his face impassive for a moment before he raised an eyebrow. “Fascinating,” he calmly spoke.

Ditzy giggled at the stallion. “I've seen that show, too,” she said with a smile. “You match the mannerism well.”

The green pony felt his face break into a wide grin at that. “Thank you, miss Dew.”

“Oh please, you may call me Ditzy if you want,” the mare said with a wave of her hoof. “I think we're past family names by now.”

“Well, okay then,” Thunderbird replied. “You can call me Thud.”

“'Thud'?” Ditzy asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why would I call you that?”

“Three reasons,” the green pegasus said, and then bright up his right hoof. He then paused and turned his head to stare at it for a moment before he sheepishly grinned and then laid it back down. “Firstly, 'Thunderbird' is a name I like, but it's a bit long for repeated use in casual conversation. Secondly, there was an old aircraft back home called the Thunderchief and it was nicknamed the 'Thud' by its crews, so that kind of fits here. And lastly, I suspect I'll be making a lot of thuds as I try to learn how to use these,” he added, and then carefully unfurled his left wing.

“Goodness, those are large,” Ditzy said, eyeing the wing as Thunderbird folded it back down. “But I saw you fly in that fight yesterday. That's how I even knew there was a fight in the first place; I saw you fly up with a manticore on your tail.”

Thunderbird grunted at that. “Yeah, but that flying was almost all instinct,” he said with a shrug. “I think I could remember enough from the fight to get into the air by myself, but I doubt I know all the tricks and moves that someone born to it would know.”

“I daresay that is the truth of the matter,” Ditzy said with a nod. “But if you can fly just by instinct, then I doubt it will be too hard for you to learn. I could teach you, if you'd like?”

The green pegasus blinked in surprise at that. “Really?” He asked, a bit awed. “That'd be great! Er, well,” he added, suddenly blushing a bit. “Except I plan on leaving Ponyville as soon as possible.”

“Why would you do that?” Ditzy asked, and then tilted her head in curiosity.

“Well, I hate to drag meta into this again, but frankly I must,” Thunderbird began. “If this is indeed a bad fanfiction story, and self-insertion at that, then I intend to derail it.”

“Again, why?” Ditzy asked, and then shrugged when the stallion gave her a look. “I may not like such stories, but they do exist at the author's behest. Why would you try to go against that?”

“Because I don't trust myself in more ways than one,” Thunderbird replied. “Firstly, I don't trust my own skills. I know of a story or two that managed to carry off the 'human in Equestria' and 'self-insertion' tropes rather well, but those were done by authors of skill, talent, and humor, who had a planned story laid out. I tend to have none of those attributes and write my stories by throwing characters into a situation and then seeing what they do. That doesn't always make for a good story, and in the case of the previously mentioned tropes, it could only be disastrous.”

“How are you so sure about that?” Ditzy asked. “I've heard it said that writers are not the best judges of their own work.”

“Maybe so, but it's hard to feel like you're good at it when you read your work and see every moment you struggled over word choice, or wince at a lost opportunity for character development,” Thunderbird countered. “Then you read something that's been highly rated by a multitude of fans, and you just want to go crawling away lest someone notices you and laughs at your sad attempts at matching it.”

The blonde-haired pegasus across from him gave Thunderbird another questioning look. “I don't have a sample of your work to judge from,” Ditzy began, “and I certainly don't know if this alternate-you is as equally capable, but the fact that my language hasn't decayed into incomprehensible pidgin tells me he at least isn't a complete fool.”

“Perhaps he isn't, but that doesn't mean he can carry off this kind of story.” The green stallion iterated.

“If we are indeed in a story, and your transfiguration isn't some sort of cosmic accident,” Ditzy countered.

“I'm pretty sure that cosmic accidents don't involve this sort of thing,” Thunderbird said, his voice nearly a scoff.

Ditzy tossed her head to the side at his statement. “And if it did, how would you find out then?” She asked, smirking a bit as she saw the logic jam up the gears in the stallion's head. “You wouldn't, of course, because the person being moved and transfigured wouldn't normally find her way back, now would she?”

“I suppose not,” Thunderbird begrudgingly admitted. “But the events around this seem too similar to such stories for me to think of it as anything else.”

Ditzy sighed at that. “Remember my advice: forget about the meta. Because if we're not in a story, then you're just driving yourself insane for no good reason, and if we are in a story...” She stopped then and shrugged. “At least an author like yourself is a better one for a character to be affected by.”

Thunderbird furrowed his brows at that. “How do you mean?”

“You said you like to throw characters into situations and see how they react?” Ditzy asked, and then received a nod. “Well, that conserves free will, now doesn't it? We're basically free to make our own decisions, with the author merely providing input, guidance, and determining events, a bit like one of those dungeonmasters from that silly game some of you humans like so much.”

“I suppose so,” Thunderbird allowed. “But it still doesn't mean that there won't be some nasty surprises. And convoluted contrivances to coerce certain characters into desired actions.”

“Nice alliteration,” Ditzy commented.

“Thanks,” Thunderbird replied. “My point is, if I stay here in Ponyville then there's an increasingly good chance that I will be forced into interactions with certain individuals. I not only distrust other-me in what he wants to accomplish with that, I also distrust myself and my ability to control my own behavior near certain ponies.”

“Oh, really?” Ditzy asked, a sudden smirk appearing on her face. “Like whom?”

Thunderbird blinked at the unexpected question, and he nervously cleared his throat before speaking. “Er, well that doesn't really matter, because I'm not playing that game. So instead-”

“Who's Best Pony?” Ditzy interrupted.

“Rainbow Dash,” Thunderbird replied without thinking. Then he realized what had happened, and he blushed profusely while he facehoofed. “Oh God, save me from myself,” he muttered

Laughter answered his plea, and Thunderbird dropped his hoof back down to see Ditzy Dew enjoying his embarrassment. “Oh my, that worked like a charm, didn't it?” She asked gaily.

“I'm glad someone is enjoying my utter mortification,” Thunderbird ground out.

“Oh relax, 'Thud',” Ditzy teased. “I just didn't take you for a Dash fan. You seem too calm and smart for that.”

“Dash isn't stupid,” Thunderbird snapped. “She's just not book savvy.”

“Oh my, it's worse than just her being your favorite, isn't it? You have a crush on her, don't you?” Ditzy asked with a grin, and then chuckled when Thunderbird groaned and tried to bury his head under a throw pillow on the couch he rested on. “Come on, Thud, there's nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yes there is!” Thunderbird countered, snapping his head back up to give the other pegasus a pained look. “She's a fictional character where I come from, and a non-human one at that! I'm not supposed to think that way about such persons!”

“Says who?” Ditzy asked.

“Says everyone!” Thunderbird replied with a snort. “It doesn't matter how much one anthropomorphizes a character, having even just a crush on a fake pony is considered a matter of extreme mental sickness.”

“Then why don't you stop?” Ditzy interrupted, garnering a frustrated look from the stallion. “Certainly you have enough control to declare that this crush is terrible and move yourself on?”

Thunderbird thought in silence for a moment before he sighed and then looked to the side. “Because it's not like I have women fainting over me back home,” he said, quietly. “And it was only a silly crush. I've had them before; I knew it would go away with time. I thought that in the meantime I could quietly enjoy the feelings it gave me, and no one would be the wiser.”

“That's an excuse, not an explanation,” Ditzy pressed. “Everypony- everyone has crushes like that. But not all of them are on another species, now are they? So why did you let it go on?”

Again, a moment of silence fell across the pair. Soon enough, however, Thunderbird sighed again and then shook his head. “I was brought up with the lessons that 'it's not the outside that counts, but the inside,'” he began slowly. “We weren't supposed to make judgments based upon a person's skin, or features, or anything else so shallow. I grew up with that, internalized that, and I still believe it to be utterly true even today. The body is but a mere container for the soul, for the real person who sits within.” He stopped for a moment, and then turned his head to look into Ditzy's eyes. “To me what matters isn't the outside shape, but the mind, heart, and soul within. A being can look like a horse and smell like skunks, but in the end if it can talk with me, reason with me, and empathize with me, then it's a person, and I will treat them as such, regardless of the physical.”

Ditzy nodded quietly at the stallion while she absorbed his words. “So your crush on Rainbow Dash is because of who she is, not what she is, and in fact is in spite of what she is. Correct?”

Thunderbird bit his lower lip, and then nodded. “Right,” he said.

“Then what's the problem?” Ditzy asked, raising an eyebrow again. “We, too, have been raised to make judgments on other ponies, other people, based on who they are underneath. What you've said isn't mental sickness, but is probably one of the best ways of treating with other sapient beings out there.”

“It's a sickness because she's not a human, and we're not supposed to have any such ideas about non-humans,” Thunderbird countered halfheartedly.

Ditzy shook her head at that. “I've been to human worlds, and I've seen what they're like, remember?” She asked. “I'm sure that taboo was in place because the animals of human worlds are just that: animals. Unthinking creatures that can't return such feelings. A crush on one of them? Yes, that is sickness,” the gray mare said, ruffling her wings a bit in disgust. “But we ponies of this reality are thinking beings, persons through and true. We are people, and a crush on one of us would only be sick if you let it deflect you from your real life concerns.” She paused at that, and then gave the stallion an inquisitive look. “You didn't, did you?”

“No,” Thunderbird replied forcefully, looking the gray pegasus in the eyes. “I may have a twisted mind and possibly some sort of undiagnosed mental disorder, but I do know the difference between reality and fantasy.” He stopped at that, and then pointedly looked around the room. “Or at least I thought I did.”

“You still do,” Ditzy said, warmly and with a smile. “It's your reality that has changed, not you. From what I've seen so far you've been working to adjust, to adapt, and if I may say so, you're doing an excellent job so far.”

“Thank you,” Thunderbird said, blushing again.

“You're welcome,” Ditzy returned. “I have an idea of what you're going through, having been to a few places myself where I worried I couldn't get back home again,” she continued after she finished her tea and then placed the cup on the table. “It's hard, really hard, trying to adjust your mind to a new set of rules, not just in culture but also in physics. At least I was lucky enough to retain my birth body and my innate ability to find my way home again. For you I suspect this ordeal is weighing a bit heavier, and that can't be made better with your author-based meta knowledge.”

“I believe that would be another understatement,” Thunderbird replied as he, too, placed his cup back on the table. “It's why I want to leave Ponyville as soon as possible. I just know other-me is going to have something crop up to provide action, and I don't want it to affect my favorite ponies.”

“I think you may be overemphasizing the threat there,” Ditzy countered. “If the author is indeed another you, then I'm sure he's just as eager to avoid doing permanent harm to the ponies here.” She paused then to tilt her head and look over the green pegasus across from her. “I think you're more worried about losing control of yourself and overstepping boundaries. And I think you're deathly afraid of the fact that crush of yours might become something more.”

“It won't,” Thunderbird snapped. “I'm staying away from the mane six, I don't care how much I or other-me wants otherwise.”

“Didn't we just go over this?” Ditzy asked, exasperated.

“Yes, but that doesn't change the fact that there's another boundary we haven't talked of,” Thunderbird replied. “As you say, I have meta knowledge. That gives me all sorts of one-sided leverage and advantages that no one should have over another. It wouldn't be fair.”

The gray mare stared at the stallion for a moment, and then nodded. “I see,” she said, and then offered a small smile. “You really are a gentlestallion. You don't want to use your knowledge against others, even by accident, and you don't want to tempt yourself either. Am I correct?”

Thunderbird nodded at that. “Yes, ma'am. It just wouldn't be right. Despite everything else that happens in my life, I try to do the right thing.”

Ditzy nodded back, and then smiled again. “You're a good pony, Thunderbird,” she said, causing the stallion to blush. “I'm glad to see that. It makes what I'm going to offer you an easy thing.”

Thunderbird looked up at the gray mare at that. “Can you take me home?” He asked, hopeful.

Those hopes were dashed a moment later, though, when Ditzy shook her head. “I'm sorry, but I have no idea which reality you're from. And even if I did, I don't change shape when I go through a pathway, so I doubt you would turn back into a human. I don't think you'd want to be the only pony in a world of humans.”

“No,” Thunderbird said, and then turned his gaze down and shook his head. “No I would not.”

Ditzy nodded again at that. “So I can't take you home. But what I can offer is a place to stay while you get on your hooves, and lessons on pony culture and flying, as well.”

“Really?” Thunderbird asked, looking up to the other pegasus. “You'd do that for me, a stranger? After all you've already done for me?”

“I wouldn't call you a stranger anymore,” Ditzy replied, smiling again. “And as I mentioned in the clinic, I'm “paying it forward” from the times I was stuck in a human world and received wonderful, caring help from people who would have benefited more by taking advantage of me.

“Also, as I said you're a good pony- no, you're a good person,” Ditzy continued, as she leaned forward from her couch to give her words extra weight. “Charity isn't a human-only concept, after all.”

Thunderbird blinked in surprise, and then smiled. “No, it wouldn't be,” he agreed. “Very well, miss Dew. I humbly accept your offer, and give you my most profoundest thanks.”

“Oh my, so formal,” Ditzy said with a chuckle. Then her countenance turned serious as she leveled her gaze steadily on the other pegasus' eyes. “There are a few conditions, however. Firstly, you'll need to get a job: I don't earn all that much and another mouth to feed means more income to pay for it. Since I'm offering to help I won't charge you rent, but I do expect you to chip in to cover expenses. Secondly, you need to help with housework. This is a fairly big cottage and having a ten-year-old daughter means there's often a lot of cleanup to be done. Thirdly, while I am trying to help you, I don't run a hotel and I'm not going to serve you, so get used to taking care of yourself if you aren't already. And lastly, don't ever bring pears here.”

Thunderbird laughed at the last one. “So, the Doctor makes housecalls, does he?”

Ditzy smiled somewhat sheepishly at that. “Oh, so you all know about him too?”

“A bit,” Thunderbird said, smiling broadly. He then bowed his head towards the mare. “Miss Dew, I find those terms perfectly reasonable and acceptable. You'll have my utmost cooperation.”

“Very good,” Ditzy said, and then slipped off of her couch. Thunderbird followed likewise while the gray mare continued talking. “Let's get you settled into the guest room and then we can start dinner.”

“Lead on then,” Thunderbird replied. Maybe it won't be so bad here after all, he thought as he followed Ditzy through the house.

Comments

[Rokas]

As the chapter title goes, I know that I am a sick, sick man. And I'm probably going to regret putting this up here, but then again, who the flip cares about a half-assed fanfic writer? No one here knows me in person nor knows my family or friends, so whatever.

My point is, yeah. I'm screwed up in the head. But as the man says, I do know the difference 'tween fantasy and reality. =P This here is silly fantasy meant to let me vent and blow off steam and exorcise various personal demons. There's a reason Catholics invented Confession, after all. OH SNAP.

Anyway, your mileage may vary. Consult your owner's manuals for all relevant topics, and then call our toll-free, help-free support line. Operators can't wait to talk to you in broken English.

ALSO: This was written before "The Last Roundup" aired, hence my take on Derpy/Ditzy. Since this story isn't really that important to me, I left it the same, which is why this one also has the "alternate universe" tag.

ALSO-ALSO: Anyone who can get the reference in Derpy/Ditzy's address WITHOUT googling it gets a cookie.

[J. Finch]

It's not a bad piece of fiction, mate. I like it, anyway. It's a different direction from the usual HiE genre, and while there are one or two grammatical and spelling errors, it's not anything to get tied up about.

Just one thing though: You bash yourself a lot in this one, and while the in-character stuff isn't all that bad, a lot of your OOC self depreciation wears thin, fast. You are a good writer, and you write interesting stories that are a pleasure to read. Don't be so down on yourself. When you are it makes Fluttershy cry. And do you wanna make Fluttershy cry? Do you? DO YOU?

[Rokas]

547079

I'm just a bit manic depressive. Well, I assume; I ain't been diagnosed, but I'd have to be an idiot not to notice how my emotions run through highs, then lows, or lows, then highs.

Anyway, I just get moods and I unfortunately write things when I'm in 'em. Sorry 'bout that. But also I self-depreciate because I'm trying to remind myself that whatever people write it ain't but words. Sticks and stones, yanno.

And yeah,grammar mistakes. Like I said, this is my vent piece, so I'm not too concerned and don't really check it too much since this isn't meant to be a "here! lookit what I did!"" but more "meh, felt like it."

[J. Finch]

547203

Eh, it sounds more like bipolarism to me, if you have lots of highs and lows. I'd suggest talking to someone about it. I did for mine, and it helped.

Most of the best written work happens when people are emotionally charged, and this isn't any different. It's a genuinely good story and you're a genuinely good writer, whose work I find entertaining and of excellent quality. Keep it up, mate. It'd be a loss if you ever stopped.

[shira]

I think this is the weak-link of the chapters. The internal dialogue is really too long and often over the chapters to keep the humor going. Instead it tends to leave me going, "Oh look he's talking to himself again, looks like it's safe for me to skip a few paragraphs until it's over."

The meta jokes are a little hard to take as well. It's just too much randomness and not enough subtlety.

Not up to your usual level Rokas.

[Rokas]

591605

I do recall saying this is my "fucking around" story. ;p At least I know what not to do, now.