Breakfast with Rose
Chapter 1: Nightmare
Admiral Biscuit
I opened my eyes, momentarily disoriented.
I'd just had a really weird dream. It had started in a mall McDonalds which was completely vacant.
Since I couldn't get an order of poutine, I headed down the escalator into the main part of the mall. Unlike any real-world escalator, once it got down to the lower floor it seamlessly turned into a moving walkway, and it felt like I was trapped on it for a long time, going past dozens and dozens of backlit posters advertising vacations to exotic locations like Acapulco and Bermuda and Canterlot.
When I finally reached the end, I realized that I was in the Sheraton and that I had no idea where my car was now, or how I'd get back to my apartment. But there were a bunch of doors, so I thought I'd look through them and see if I could get my bearings back.
The first opened to the sky, which was odd since I was sure I'd gone down into the parking garage and down to the McDonalds and down to the mall/hotel. There was a landing platform with people-sized paper airplanes, and as I watched, a man got into one of them and launched himself off into oblivion.
That wasn't where I wanted to go, so I tried the next door. A counter was off to one side, with two bored-looking teenage ponies leaning on the counter and not paying attention to anything except their cell phones.
I asked them where I needed to go, and one of them pointed to an unassuming steel door on the right side of the room. It looked like the kind of door that might lead to an underground parking garage, so I tried it.
Instead of stairs, there was a long cave-like poured cement room, lit only by a single caged light bulb. Exposed pipes ran along the walls and hung from the ceiling, and the room was jammed full of people. They weren't saying anything, they were just standing there, occasionally shifting on their feet. It was like a room full of zombies.
I closed the door in alarm and looked back at the desk. A rising feeling of unease was creeping up on me: the room was now full of ponies. I was in the wrong place, I didn't belong, and I didn't know how to get back to where I did belong.
I saw a pair of bulky stallions dressed in police outfits coming my way, and the crowd was parting to let them through, and there was just nowhere I could go. I saw a skywalk leading away, but I wouldn't make it far.
Amid the rising worry, though, I began to have a feeling that this wasn't real; this was a dream, but I'd be damned if I could remember what real was. Nevertheless, I began running, even as the rational part of my mind was beginning to debate whether I should wake up and end the nightmare, or let it go on and see what happened next.
And then it was gone, reduced to drifting nonsensical fragments as I opened my eyes. I was back in my own bed, in my rental house, which was in Ponyville. A statement that by itself should have been nonsensical, yet I’d mostly adapted: some of my memories of the time before Equestria were starting to feel as if they could be the product of an overactive imagination. I knew that wasn’t true, I knew that there had been a time before I was here, but sometimes in the middle of the night the past seemed like it had been just another vivid dream.
It was dark in my room, although there was enough moonlight that I could see clearly. I’d never really understood the Equestrian moon: unlike Earth's moon, it didn't seem to have middle phases. Sometimes it was full and sometimes it was a crescent.
For a moment I thought it was the dream that had awakened me, and then I became aware of the pressure in my bladder. How much did I drink last night? I wondered. Probably too much. Hopefully I could make it to the outhouse in time.
I really didn't want to move. I was spooning Rose, and she was like a little furry heater. I vaguely remembered that horses had a higher body temperature than humans, and while I wasn't positive that was true of ponies as well, it felt true.
As I disentangled myself from Rose, I spared a moment to wish for indoor plumbing, ideally with an attached master bath. Unfortunately, unless I could get a steady, well-paying job, it wasn't in my future.
Of course, my robe wasn't anywhere obvious. I usually hung it over the top of the door for convenience, but it wasn't there. The blanket wasn't a standby option; I wasn't cruel enough to deprive Rose of it. As I scooted out the side of the bed, hoping not to disturb her any more than I already had, I tried to think of alternative choices, but none sprang to mind. You went to Sugarcube Corner naked last night, I reminded myself. The backyard is no big deal. I was still going to grab my robe if I saw it on my way out of the house.
As soon as I made it to my feet, it was obvious that I was still drunk. The room swayed alarmingly, but there was nothing for it now. I didn't really have a lot of choice, so I pinballed my way down the short hall and made sure I had a very good grip on the handrail before I began to navigate the stairs. By the time I was at the bottom I'd gotten used to being on my feet, and made a nearly straight path through the living room and kitchen to the back door.
I caught sight of my robe in the kitchen, folded neatly out of the way next to some kitchen towels, but by that point I was convinced that I wouldn't have time to put it on and then take it back off in the outhouse, so I went without. From more than a few sleepless nights in the past, I could attest that Ponyville didn't have much in the way of a nighttime population, so barring a Pegasus with insomnia I would be unobserved.
You went to Sugarcube Corner naked last night, I reminded myself again as I scurried across the grass.
You were drunk so it doesn't count. I grabbed the outhouse door, yanked it open, and squatted down.
When I stepped back out, Rose was waiting on the lawn. A faint smile crossed my face, and I charitably held the door open for her. Judging by the way she was dancing around on her hooves, her need was just as urgent as mine had been. At least she didn’t ever have to worry about taking off her clothes before she used the bathroom.
Not that I’d had to this time, either. Despite my nakedness, I paused for a moment in the backyard, glancing up at the star-studded sky. One of the blessings of Ponyville’s primitive nature was the complete lack of arc-sodium lights totally washing out the night sky, and every time I saw it, it filled me with wonder.
I must have been contemplating nature for longer than I’d intended, because I was suddenly snapped out of my trance by a warm face pressing against my bare hip. I reached down and rested my hand atop her head, took one more look at the night sky, and then headed into the house. I vowed that some other night when I was more sober and more dressed, I was going to spend a night in my backyard, looking up at the stars.
My robe was still neatly folded in the kitchen, alongside yesterday's clothes and a completely empty wine bottle. I leaned against the kitchen counter as a brief wave of dizziness came over me, then decided that I ought to have a bit of water. Hopefully it would help quell the inevitable hangover in the morning.
There weren't any clean cups to be had, so I took one out of the sink, poured out the last few dregs of wine, filled it with water, and quaffed it in one go. Rose was still standing in the kitchen, so I looked down at her. “Do you want some?”
Rose nodded, so I filled a glass for her and handed it down. When she’d finished, I drank a second glass for good measure, then refilled it in case Rose wanted some more, but when I looked down she was gone. I caught a flash of white going up the stairs and shook my head, figuring that I’d just zoned out there for a moment.
Since I was already in the kitchen, I scooped up the clean clothes I’d set out and not worn last night, and my robe as well. I was feeling a little steadier on my feet, but I made sure to keep a good hand on the railing as I went up the stairs.
It took but a moment to set my clothes on top of the dresser—there was no point in putting them in a drawer; I’d be wearing them in the morning—and hang my robe over the door where it usually went.
Rose, predictably, was already in bed. She’d pulled the covers up around herself, graciously leaving enough for me. I just studied her for a minute, my half-drunken mind trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
She looked almost human, with the way her head was lying on the pillow and the lump of her body under the fabric, and yet . . . she wasn’t. So what did that make me? What did it mean that I was sleeping with an animal?
You slept with your cat all the time. Mimi liked to curl up on your chest at night.
That’s not the same. But it was, in principle. I’d never been much of a pajamas person. So that line of logic went nowhere.
Well, ponies aren’t animals. They can talk and build houses and cook dinner and some of them can even solve complex equations.
If anything, that made it more awkward. Rose occupied an undefined space, something that all of humanity had no experience with, and it just kept gnawing at my mind. Less so now than when I’d first arrived, but still . . . it was one of those things where I wouldn’t think about it for a while, and then out of the blue, there it was again.
Maybe my dream had prompted those thoughts. It felt like something I should bring up with Tenderheart, but I knew that she didn’t really have the frame of mind to truly understand where I was coming from. Might as well have tried to describe a Macbook to some villager in a jungle tribe somewhere.
I shivered, either from the cool night air or a dream flashback, and told my brain to shut up. A few steps took me to the bed, and before my rebellious mind could conjure up something else to mess with me, I was sliding my legs under the covers.
At first, I just lay on my back, not quite touching her. The physical gap between us couldn’t have been much, but the mental gulf was much, much wider. I closed my eyes and tried to divert my mind from its pointless yammering by imagining pine trees. Counting sheep had never really been a successful technique, but pine trees usually worked.
This time, it didn’t work. I kept getting distracted in my attempts to imagine a nice pine forest, and I felt as if I was going to reach that point where I wasn’t ever going to fall asleep and the attending worry that went with that would reinforce the sleeplessness in a vicious cycle.
Then Rose rolled into me.
Rather than slide away, I gave up. Answers would come when they came, and until then I’d just muddle along as well as I could and try not to think too much about things I couldn’t change. As I snuggled up against her, the traitorous part of my mind was still saying that I wouldn’t fall asleep again tonight.
The next time I opened my eyes, it was faintly light. I had to pee again, although it wasn't as urgent as last night. I was still snuggled up against Rose, and I wasn't sure I wanted to move. However, after a little thought, I decided that if I went now I could probably fall back asleep, whereas if I didn't move I'd certainly be up in half an hour and then I probably wouldn't get back to sleep at all.
This time I took my robe.
New story! I might be biased, but great start!
Free Pony Hug! She totally did that on purpose, she's not really asleep.
I know you like extra spaces after .'s but for some reason on my screen it puts the Counting sheep onto the next line so its indented a space. Never seen that happen in your stories so I thought I would let you know.
Poor Sam, shes in a bit of a rough situation. I'm not certain that feeling of not belonging, stranger in a strange land and all that, will ever really go away. The fact that the locals are so friendly and open, mostly at least, doesn't really help the issue either. "They're so nice and friendly. Something must be wrong with me to feel uneasy." What's worse is I doubt that anyone else can understand her situation or her thoughts behind it. She can't even make sense of it herself. We need human contact in order to remain sane. Isolation is a very bad thing and although Sam isn't alone it seems that it just isn't the same as having other people around.
I like this bit and I want to say something about it. But I cannot get it quite right. Sam seems to be trying to rationalize sleeping with Rose. Is the fact that Rose isn't a human a problem? It seems like it may be for Sam. Does Sam feel like she has broken a taboo by getting so personal with Rose? Someone who for all intents and purposes is physically identical to an animal back home, or close enough at least. Is the drunkenness and sleepiness making her think things she doesn't really feel or are they bringing to the surface things she has buried in order to acclimate? I don't know and I don't think Sam does either.
Reminds me of the Serenity prayer. I wonder if ponies have 12 step meetings. Regardless people are very good at ignoring things that keep us up at night. Whether it is the healthiest choice or not remains to be seen.
I personally have never had these stories click for me like some of you other works. Too many disagreements with how Sam has decided to handle things and a lack of excitement/discovery. I regarded them as slow-burners, something to read with little to keep me engaged. But this chapter is making me reconsider. Lots of tension in not so many words and diffused even quicker. It's very subtle and focused.
Ah, dreams. The only setting in both fiction and reality where everything can and will be completely and utterly nonsensical, and there will be absolutely no call to think of anything as any more than just slightly out of the ordinary. Tricky to write well, but you did ok, since Sam was recanting the dream in past tense, you can't really nit pick.
Personally I like to have my dream scenes in the moment, whether past or present tense. I try not to mention that a dream has started or ended, to blur the borderlines of reality.
Anyway, good shit.
>tfw you will never get to spoon a pony like that
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souldipper.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/colt.jpg
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>tfw no marefriend
Just kiss her already! Also, needs more mystified Luna looking around while wandering in and out of Sam's dreams.
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"Are you my mommy?"
"Eeeeehhhhhh... Close enough."
"Yay!"
6774812 I bet he's watching MLP on that laptop.
Well ive read every story that comes before this one.
Will read when its finshed. Really liking the concept of a woman in equestria rather than a guy.
I really enjoy all the thought you put into how the pony world works vs ours and how different things would be from a humans perspective. One thing though that always sticks out to me is this. Ponies are short, waist height or just above for the tops of their heads. The princess's would be almost the height of an average human. So with that in mind, wouldnt the human have to duck or be hunched over all the time when there in buildings. Also I would think ponies would get a crick in the neck having to look up all the time to talk to a human. The difference in height is one of the things that makes ponies rather adorable but something that seems to get glossed over a lot or only a passing mention. Most buildings that the princess's have been in (that I can recall) come rather close to the ceiling . Or like they might not fit through the door in some cases. Even if all the building where built to accommodate a princess it would still be a tight fit for a human, right? Granted human women tend to be shorter than men, but still thats what a foot or more taller then a pony. How tall is Sam anyway? And how do you figure for your stories how tall the ponies are? Or is it like the cartoons of old where height consistency doesnt exists and there as tall or short as the story requires.
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Maybe. . .
I usually remember to control-F them out before I import the doc, to avoid that. I didn't remember this time. I'd like to learn not to double space after periods, but decades of writing have sorta ingrained it into me.
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I do third-person dream scenes in present tense, just to set them off from normal text. it's subtle enough that it isn't always obvious, yet the reader has a vague feeling that something isn't right. I didn't think that would work with the narrative style here, but perhaps I should have tried it. I always think of first person narration as if I'm sitting at the bar with someone who's telling me about this thing that just happened to them, which kinda affects how I write them. Blame Alistair MacLean for that.
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media.giphy.com/media/10BaQrnrLYkJ3i/giphy.gif
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That's perfect.
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There aren't enough of them, in my opinion. You should check out the FiE group.
You'd think so, and a lot of HiE stories do have that. However, a close watching of the show seems to indicate this isn't the case. Doorways are generally taller than they need to be, and beds are longer.
To save space, I'm just giving image links:
Fluttershy's front door
Sugarcube Corner front door
library front door
Apple house interior door (and bed)
Hospital room
Twilight's bed
Pie family bed
Admittedly, they aren't consistent in the show, but the general appearance of doors and interiors is that they're significantly taller than a pony. Maybe they build that way so pegasi can fly indoors, or else because they anticipate that the princess might show up as a guest. Perhaps they just don't like close ceilings.
If they were close, they probably would. But I'm not sure it would be that bad--Sam would be looking down slightly, and Rose would be looking up. Same thing if two people of different heights are talking, IMHO.
Between 5'5" and 5'10".
About 4' tall at the tips of the ears.
I actually use models for scaling purposes. They guy's for a different story (I don't have a Sam action figure).
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Sam's not into girls, or mares. She said so herself.
There's not enough of that in HiEs. I ought to fix that one of these days.
The thing that I'm curious about is how the foal got up there in the first place.
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I should hope so.
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That's like... totally the way they should be written. Love 'em that way. The tense change is interesting. I'll have to try that some time.
Honestly, with this chapter I'm surprised there's not a little Luna interlude. If anyone can understand that kind of isolation, it would be her. It's not the same on many levels, yes, but 1000 years must still be utterly jarring.
Your description of how Sam is viewing places or situations is really nice to read. I think that's what makes this series work so well for me. To use a cake comparison, your writing is a rich cake. There's plenty of flavor even in small bites.
Alondro floats down from the heavens and touches Sam's mind, transforming him into an enlightened furry who does not discriminate against creatures based on species! Such a progressive nature should be embraced, he reasons.
The next day... Sam runs around humping everything with legs... and some things without legs...
Alondro "I totally should have seen this coming. Yeah... yeah... this is my bad."
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You know, there are enough fics on this site already with a male protagonist who'll hump anypony he comes across. In so many ways, this is not one of those and never will be.
I could keep reading this for hours, wish there was more of these human/female/slice of life stories. Even if she isn't "into ponies/mares" it probably wouldn't be that out of place for her to give out a few non-mouth kisses, it's hardly uncommon (especially for girls) to give a few affectionate pecks on the cheek/neck/ear of their pets. But I can also see plenty of reasons for her to not do such a thing. Hope you keep writing this story!
6778126 A human with impulse control!
Can such a thing truly exist?!
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Well, I haven't assaulted any of my co-workers yet, so I'd say it's possible.
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It's possible at some point that Rose will chat with Luna, either awake or in her dreams.
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Thank you!
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I don't think it could. Even without the language barrier, and no matter how much she gets used to their culture, they're still entirely different species.
It's a super-complicated thing to think over. Rose isn't a human, even if she mostly acts like one. She isn't an animal either; certainly, by every intellectual measure, she's a person. How do you reconcile that?
It kind of does, doesn't it?
That's a question that probably can't be answered. There are both advantages and disadvantages to being able to take something and burying it deep down, but of course as often as not, those things come back to haunt you in the dark watches of the night.
I'm going to spoiler this just for safety's sake.
One of the reasons it's so different from, say, CSI/OPP is because I didn't want to retell that story but with a female protagonist. Sam has been in Ponyville for some amount of time before the first story starts, and it's been enough to knock the amazement off of it. On top of that, the general population in this series hasn't gone out of their way to help her, and until recently has only regarded her as useful for manual labor that no pony particularly wants to do. She's clumsy with hoof-friendly tools, can't use magic, and isn't as strong as a pony. Plus, she (to them) seems kind of aloof, and she's always showing off by wearing clothes.
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Me, too.
It's something she might do without thinking, but if she has a moment to consider before doing it, she probably wouldn't. If she were from Quebec instead of BC, she'd be more likely to do it.
Fear not, chapters 2 and 3 are out to pre-readers already. Also, just in case you somehow missed it, there are three prequels. There's also a one-shot set sometime in the future: November.
Silly Sam, of course ponies aren't humans or animals, they're people! at least, until the concept sticks, then they're just ponies.
Keep going! ;)
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That makes sense. Sam's stories just seem so disconnected to me. We often see where she is but not necessarily how she got there. The snapshot nature of it all makes it harder for me to get attached to Sam and Rose. They're growing on me though. Just a different sort of story.
Did you, by any chance, play "A Bird Story"?
Captain Kirk never had that problem
Well, that was nice. Let's see where you take it
Sam needs a proper chamber pot.
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I don't know if she'd want to use one, even if she had one. That feels like the kind of thing that would take some getting used to for a modern Canadian.
I'd or I would
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Correction made; thank you!
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Correction made; thank you!
mmmm poutine...
ive only had it once or twice but you don't forget that wondrous mix of flavors.
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I’ve never had the proper stuff.
McDonalds in Canada has it (and I tried it once), but in general, I think food from McDonalds is a pale imitation of the real thing.
Poutine! I want to try some, but that is more of a Northern dish and I'm way down in the south. Unless one feels inclined to go through the trouble of ordering all of the ingredients and supplies for making the base ingredients of poutine, you're not going to find any around here.
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In the south of what? I’ve had it in Sarnia, which is about as far south as you can get in Canada (or it might have been London, which is a bit more north). Granted, that was McDonald’s poutine, which I’m sure is a pale imitation of the real thing.
In terms of the US, I don’t think it’s generally available anywhere, but I’m sure that it could be made with reasonably common ingredients. I live in Michigan, which has Canada on two sides, and I’m not aware of anywhere that offers it on the menu.
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Not to be a food snob (believe me I'll eat almost anything) but poutine isn't really poutine without real cheese curds.
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I can accept that. In Wisconsin, I learned that they only count as real cheese curds if they squeak.
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Aldi carries cheese curds. Then just oven bake some fries, add the curds, and some gravy.
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My local grocery story (small regional chain) sometimes carries them, too. Hmm, I could make my own poutine.