Sweet Dreams, LLP

by AnchorsAway

This Tastes Like Bleach: Part 2

---

There are several things in life that are worse than being fired: quite a few actually.

For example, you could be trapped in an ancient Tenochtitlan temple with no way out.

Or one might find themselves caught off guard by a rogue breezie attack that sweeps through the village as you sleep (I know I still have nightmares).

Or perhaps you could be an unfortunate author, struggling to remember where he saved his last draft after a night of Sweet Apple Acres cider and enthusiastic debauchery in Las Pegasus.

To sum things up, always remember that there are probably far worse experiences to be had than whatever trial or tribulation you are enduring. Except for Bright Shine that is—because not only had he just been fired, he had just missed the bus.

“Wait, wait!” the stallion cried out as the bus pulled away from the corner stop, the wagon kicking up a cloud of dust as it left Bright Shine puffing breathlessly in its wake.

His saddlebag of meager possessions, the contents of his work locker, slid from his back as he struggled to regain his breath from his mad dash for the bus. It would be an hour before the next bus arrived, the last one of the day in fact. If he missed that one, it would be a night-long hike across Canterlot to reach the dingy little apartment tucked against the cliffs that he called home—a very empty apartment as of late. Snowberry had already moved all of her things out. The last he heard, she was staying with a friend in Baltimare.

“Great,” Bright Shine grumbled, chomping on his saddlebags and collapsing onto the ratty bus stop bench. The metal bench elicited a groan, something sticky tugging at his coat. The air under the gum-coated roof was tinged with the smell of sun-baked urban filth, the clear siding of the shelter splattered with some unidentifiable substance covered in a carpet of mold.

“As if my day was supposed to get any easier.” Bright Shine released a sigh as he rubbed his tired, bloodshot eyes. The dreams and sleeplessness were only getting worse; he wasn’t sure how much longer it could possibly go on. He had tried the usual solutions: the teas, pills, even meditation, suggested by the pony of the herbal tea shop with the nasty long mane woven into thick dreadlocks.

Except none of them had helped in the slightest. And now his sleep troubles had cost him his job, no matter how shitty it might have been.

Bright Shine fanned himself in the sweltering Canterlot sun, Celestia’s heavenly body pummeling him and the rest of the capital with its staggering rays even though it was well into the afternoon. The day was unbearably hot, beads of thick sweat dribbling from Bright Shine’s coat as he caught his breath beneath the bus stop shelter. Hardly anypony was out in this heat; the streets were practically empty. Almost empty, that was.

The only other pony stupid enough to be out in the heat was positioned on the opposite corner. Bright Shine wondered at first if there was something terribly wrong with the mare; the pegasus was as if caught in an epileptic attack. She flailed her hooves in the air, her wings keeping her a few inches above the no doubt scorching pavement. Dark sunglasses hid her eyes.

Perhaps the boiling sun had cooked her brain, he wondered. That was until Bright Shine noticed the sign twirling in her hooves.

“Uhh,” Bright Shine sneered with disgust, a shudder passing over him. “A sign spinner.”

This author is not sure if everypony reading this horrible collection of words and phrases knows what a sign spinner is. If you don’t, allow me to enlighten you. You won’t find these strange creatures except in most urban centers of dense population or along routes with high hoof traffic.

A sign spinner, to simplify the definition, is a pony paid to be advertising. Now, usually this means standing out on the sidewalk with a flimsy sign promoting a local business.

But standing on a street corner with a sign will get you undoubtedly very little attention. There are always crazy ponies on the streets with signs proclaiming the end is neigh, or that the Princesses are space lizards in disguise out to conquer the world. No, you need to distinguish your advertisement from the rest of the loonies.

So what is a sign spinner to do to garner the attention of those with bits to spend? Why, that would—apparently—mean waving their sign like a mad pony, spinning it and twirling it so hard it makes ponies’ heads hurt. All the while they act like it’s the best day of their life despite twirling a flimsy sign in Tartarian heat, all in an attempt to get ponies to buy a shitty product or sign up for a wretched multi-level marketing scheme. This is why Bright Shine (and this author included) hated sign spinners.

Noticing she had caught the attention of a potential consumer, the spinner turned her display toward the glaring stallion. “Hey guy!” she called out, her voice unnaturally chipper for the grueling heat.

Why is it that they always seem way too excited to be spinning a plastic cutout?

“That bench sure does look uncomfortable,” the spinner remarked, spinning her sign above her head.

“Um...yeah,” Bright Shine said quickly, hoping to avoid any sort of interaction with the pegasus. He was in no mood to be persuaded into buying whatever she was pushing.

“I bet you wish you had a nice, soft sofa under you right now,” the spinner continued, now flipping her advertisement end over end, catching it each time with the tip of a wing before tossing it again. “Doncha think a sofa would be much better than that hard bench?”

“The bench is fine. I don’t need a sofa,” he called back, hoping to wave her off.

Instead, she flipped the sign in her hooves over with great flourish, shaking it in his direction.

Quills and Sofas

“We’ve got a great selection just down the block.” She gestured with the sign down the street. “Our autumnal style selection is now ten percent off when you purchase a bulk pack of quills.”

“I’m good,” he reiterated, stealing a look toward the clock tower. “I already have a sofa at home.” The next bus was an hour away. He was almost sure it would be faster to hike home across Canterlot, no short distance. The busses were always late.

“Are you sure?” the spinner pushed, lifting off and hovering over the corner as she continued twirling her sign. “We have installment plans available if you’re looking to expand your collection. We now have couches!” she exclaimed as if it were the second coming of Starswirl.

That was all Bright Shine needed to hear. Quickly standing up from the bench with a tired groan, he turned to collect his things. “Forget this,” he grumbled, rubbing his aching eyes. “I’ll just walk.”

But as Bright Shine quickly gathered his saddlebags, and the spinner rambled about their rewards program, he was stopped by a familiar advertisement displayed on the wall of the bus stop. Had that always been there?

Sweet Dreams, LLP

“Sweet Dreams, LLP—I’ve seen that before,” he mused, probing his memory. It was as if it were on the tip of his tongue, some recollection of where he had seen the name before. What little he recalled was fuzzy, less of a recollection, but a feeling he had of déjà vu.

“Your dream therapy center of downtown Canterlot,” he continued to read. “Feeling tired? Are constant nightmares keeping you up? Got bits? Dr. L can help you achieve a sound night’s sleep—no appointment needed.”

Dream therapy? He had never heard of such a treatment before. To Bright Shine, he guessed it couldn’t hurt to take a look. The address listed was close by, only a block or two away. It wasn’t like he had anything to lose. Besides, it would give him some time away from the sign spinner until the next bus arrived.

---

The address listed on the bus stop took Bright Shine deeper into the older parts of Canterlot, a messy block of deteriorating warehouses, run-down strip malls, and abandoned industrial complexes rusting down to their foundations. The district was frankly an eyesore, Bright Shine and most other Canterlot citizens avoiding the area entirely. Crime was an everpresent issue, and gangs of diamond dogs had been rumored to mug those ponies unfortunate enough to be caught out in the open after dark.

The sidewalk was covered in widening cracks, the concrete beneath his hooves crumbling from years of neglect from the road crews. A few mares stood waiting patiently on the other side of the street and music, a deep throb of bass, could be heard nearby. The mares, their faces painted with garish makeup, eyed him hungrily.

“What kind of therapy center would set up shop out here?” he wondered.

“Looking for some company, sugar?” one of the mares called, a tall chestnut sporting a tight dress of shiny material. “You look lonely. I could give you a discount.” She cracked a grin, showing off her grey smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Bright Shine coughed. Had that mare’s voice seemed deep? And was that an Adam’s apple peeking out from the sequin-studded ribbon around her neck?

Bright Shine picked up his pace. He was having second thoughts about this. He could use some help with his sleeplessness and the dreams, but he was more concerned about being shot or mugged or catching some carnal disease than stopping a few random nightmares.

Just before he was going to cave and head back for the relative safety of the bus stop, and the unwelcomed advances of the sign spinner, Bright Shine rounded the corner and saw the place. It was not what he was expecting.

Sweet Dreams, LLP the cracked backlit sign read, half of the letters burnt out.

“Well this can’t be right,” he said and whistled, cringing at the ugly building, what bit was still standing. From the littered parking lot, he could barely see in through the dingy, dirty windows obscured by the overgrown and weed-choked planter by the entrance. Vines sprouted from what looked like more trash than soil, the sickly yellow plants creeping up the vomit-colored vinyl exterior. Bright Shine noticed several distinctly round holes in the weathered siding. Upon trotting closer, he could only assume them to be bullet holes.

“Ok, this was definitely a mistake.” He gulped, his head turning on a swivel as he backed away. “It’s probably safer to just head back to the bus stop.”

Suddenly, as if to confirm this, several loud and sharp cracks rang through the air.

Pop. Pop-Pop! POP!

Bright Shine instinctively ducked, covering his head as he skittered toward the building. A piece of plaster exploded over his head, raining dust down upon him. There was no mistaking the sound of gunfire.
“Oh Sweet Celestia!” he cursed, pressing himself low to the ground. “Who is shooting?!”

Several more shots rang out nearby, maybe another block away, then, a bloodcurdling howl.

“Diamond dog,” he hissed, his eyes leaping from their sockets.

Immediately, thoughts of gangs or muggers sprang into his head. What would a band of diamond dogs do with him when they found he was practically broke (he had eight bits on him, maybe twenty in the bank)? There was no way he could make it back to the bus stop now. He would be caught out in the open. His only choice was to seek shelter indoors.

With a tinkle of the bell above him, Bright Shine burst through the door of Sweet Dreams, LLP. He quickly slammed it behind him, his heart thrumming in his chest like a drum.

A young mare looked up from across the lobby, smiling at the breathless stallion that had collapsed in shock on the squalid waiting room floor. “The diamond dogs get a bit antsy when it’s hot out,” she said with a welcoming smile as she leaned over her reception desk. “Do you have an appointment, sir?”

“What?” His mind was still swimming in the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. “Appointment?”

“Oh, it’s ok if you don’t have an appointment, sir. We do take walk-ins. If you want, I might be able to fit you in Dr. L’s busy schedule. Can I get your name, sir?”

Bright Shine’s eyes darted around the very dim and very empty waiting room as the terror of being shot slowly drained away. “You know those were gunshots outside?” he said, wondering if the receptionist simply had not heard them. “Aren’t you going to call the police or something?”

“They usually don’t respond to calls in this area. That’s one reason we’re still able to operate,” she responded gleefully despite the dismal surroundings. The walls were as grey as ash, and the floor was a patchwork of dingy carpet that smelled of dank mold. What scraps were left were stained with something dark that was sticky beneath his hooves. His skin crawled involuntarily.

“Now, about that name?” the receptionist continued.

Bright Shine noted to himself that maybe he should get his hearing checked as well. He wasn’t sure if he was hearing her correctly. Was she still asking if he had an appointment?

“Bright Shine,” he told her, sidestepping around a slow drip coming from the ceiling that pooled near the front entrance. “My name is Bright Shine. I was hoping to get some help with my sleep before—” He waved a hoof behind him. “Well, before whatever that was outside.”

“Let’s see.” The unicorn smacked her lips. She levitated a stack of papers off the desk and flipped through them rapidly. “Ah-ha!” she proclaimed, pulling one of the sheets out. “Here we are. You have a three o’clock appointment?”

“Appointment? I didn’t book an appointment,” he said, confused. “Are you sure you have the right name?”

“Sure do,” the mare replied, standing up from her desk. Bright Shine noticed the name pin on her light purple scrubs.

Peppercorn

“It shows Doctor L booked it for one Mr. Bright Shine this morning,” Peppercorn continued, stepping out of the reception area. She swung open the door to the inner office, motioning him back. “If you’ll follow me to the dream chamber, the Doctor will be with you shortly.”

Bright Shine took a wary stride for the door, weighing his chances of making it back to the bus stop. He had a bad feeling in his gut about this, a tightening akin to indigestion. They already had an appointment booked for him; the circumstances seemed suspicious at best. However strange it was though, Bright Shine followed Peppercorn further inside.

Peppercorn quickly guided him into a spacious central room, the high-domed ceiling bathed in harsh, fluorescent lighting. “Gilbert,” Peppercorn called with a sing-song chirp, her voice resonating around the round chamber. “Gilbert, come meet Bright Shine. He’s our three o’clock.”

Bright Shine caught a glimpse of a flurry of feathers through a viewing window off to the side, a lanky griffon stepping out a paint-flecked door stenciled Dream Core in messy, faded lettering. At least he thought it was a griffon. Whatever it was, they were partially obscured by a cloud of loose, grey feathers.

“Achoo!” the cloud sneezed, revealing the source of the loose plumage. Definitely a griffon.

“Sweet Celestia, Gilbert,” Pepper hacked, waving several offending feathers out of her face. “Are you molting again?”

“I can’t help it, Pepper. It’s the blasted heat.” The wiry griffon squawked, brushing several feathers from his thick-rimmed glasses. He was small by griffon standards, though he could have been a full head taller than Bright Shine. “If I lose any more feathers, I’ll be a plucked chicken.”

“Just go throw on a lab coat, you big bird brain.” Pepper shooed him away. “You’ll get feathers in the equipment. Besides, Doc will be back soon. Let’s get the patient situated.”

“Who is this Doctor L again?” Bright Shine asked. “Is he any good? I’ve been having some sleep issues.”

“Why she is the top pony to see for sleep and dream-related issues,” Pepper proclaimed, motioning him to take a seat in the center of the room.

The metal frame of the chair creaked as he sat down. It could have been a barber’s chair in a past life; the vinyl was cracked, and stained stuffing leaked out of several holes. His coat was already sticking to it. Bright Shine’s eyes alighted to the heavy restraints attached to the hoofrests.

“Wow, oh wow,” he seethed. “You know, I’m beginning to think this isn’t the place for me.” Bright Shine was about to sit up when a claw pulled him back down.

“Nonsense. You won’t find better help anywhere else,” Gilbert chirped, now sporting a wrinkled lab coat to help contain his molt. “Let’s get you prepped for the procedure.” He grinned, his eyes beaming through the thick glasses, distorting them to even larger orbs.

“Procedure?” Bright Shine recoiled as Gilbert’s claws began poking and prodding his tired noggin, a bundle of electrodes clutched in his beak. “What do you mean procedure? I thought this was just a therapy session. Like laying back on a comfy couch and talking.” Bright Shine gripped the chair tighter, a fresh layer of sweat coating his fur.

“This is therapy,” Gilbert assured him, placing several of the sticky sensors atop his head. He pressed them down one at a time. “Doc will explain everything soon. Just try not to move,” he warned. “A few of these wires lost their insulation, and they might short out if you jostle them.”

“Now wait a minute—” The loud bang of a door cut him off.

“Ah, here she is now. You look a little out of breath, Doc,” Gilbert noted.

Now, Bright Shine had seen the Royal Sisters in person on several occasions—such was the norm of living in Canterlot. Somepony could catch the alicorns’ appearances at galas or at yearly celebrations or simply out and about in the wealthier districts of the city. But for one of the princesses to suddenly appear in such a ramshackle establishment, in such an undesirable district, was causing a disconnect in Bright Shine’s sleep-deprived brain. It simply wasn’t in the realm of possibility.

“P-Princess Luna,” he flubbed. His confusion, however, was not shared by either of the attendants.

“Jeez, Doc, what happened? You look like you just ran a marathon,” Gilbert said with a whistle.

And it was true. The Princess stood with her flank pressed to the steel door, a plastic bag levitating beside her as she gasped for breath. Her ethereally waving hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, several wisps having fallen out. Her formal attire of shoes, neck sash, and crown was absent, replaced with a long flowing lab coat sporting only a few stains.

“Diamond Hide and his crony Digger tried cornering me on the way back from the Quickie-Mart,” she finally said, catching her breath and calmly setting her parcel on a counter. “Bloody diamond dogs tried asking for their payment early—got a tad heated when I reminded them it wasn’t due for another week.”

“Sheesh, what is it with these dogs? Every month they keep trying to collect earlier and earlier.” Gilbert rolled his eyes before they wandered to the plastic bag on the counter. “Did you happen to grab my bag of chips though?”

Luna rummaged through the plastic Quickie-Mart bag, unaware of the horribly confused pony in the chair struggling to set his senses straight. “Of course, Gil,” she assured him, producing his snack. “Extra oniony, just like you like them.”

Several crumbs slipped through the neat round hole punched clean through the bag. “They might be a little... damaged. As I said, Diamond Hide lost his head and thought he might scare me by lobbing a few rounds at me.”

“Oh no,” Pepper gasped with a squeak, a hoof clutched over her mouth. “Is he ok? You didn’t hurt him too bad, did you?”

“He’ll be fine,” Luna replied, producing a soda bottle. She twisted the cap, tilted her head back, and guzzling down the bubbly liquid greedily. “Well, mostly. You should have seen the look on the mutt’s face when my spell melted the gun in his paw,” she chuckled before releasing a loud belch that echoed around the domed room.

“You’re Princess Luna,” Bright Shine was finally able to muster the will to say.

The Princess whipped around, entirely unaware of his presence. Like a light switch being flipped on, her face lit up. “Ah it’s you!” She beamed as if to recognize him. “Sorry about that. I was pretty thirsty.” She wiped a hoof on her lab coat, giving him a quick but vigorous hoofshake. “Glad to see you found the place. And it looks to be right on time, too. My bad on the timberwolves, by the way. I hope the mauling wasn’t too traumatic,” she said with a slight clench of her jaw.

“Timberwolves?” he asked, befuddled. “My dream.” The faint memory of the experience was finally resurfacing: twisting trees, sucking mud, and a pair of hungry timberwolves barreling toward him. The blue mare. “It was you,” he said. “You were in my dream. You gave me a business card.”

“Welcome.” The Princess grinned and stretched her hooves wide in presentation. “Welcome to Sweet Dreams, LLP. My little pet project for some time,” she added pridefully. “Servicing all of those in Equestria who need help in their dreams under a Limited Liability to Princesses clause. Just call me Doctor L,” she added. “I’m sure you’ve met most of the Sweet Dream Team by now.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call us that,” Gilbert grumbled as he slinked off with his snack prize, munching on the crisps greedily.

“But there’s no time to waste,” the Princess quickly announced, leaving Bright Shine hanging onto more questions as she set down her soda. “We have dreams to sort out if I remember. Pepper, let’s get the patient ready please.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Pepper answered dutifully, hurrying off with her clipboard.

“Gilbert,” Luna chimed. “Is the Dream Core warmed up?”

The griffon gave a claw-up from behind his windowed alcove. Banks of terminals and coils of snaking wires surrounded him on either side. The tiny room with a full view of the dream chamber glowed with multiple displays before the griffon, reflecting off his glasses with motes of colored light. “Core is primed and waiting for your tether.”

“Excellent. Next we just need the patient sedated. Speaking of which, has anypony seen Broodly?”

The two employees shook their heads.

Luna grumbled and lifted her head to scan the ceiling. “He better not be hiding in the rafters again. I told him to stop doing that,” she muttered. “Broodly? BROODLY! Where are you, you dithering alchemist?” she called.

From an adjacent room came a clatter of crashes and banging. Out of a heavily claw-marked door erupted a bat pony, the unfortunate stallion tangled in his big, leathery wings. “What? What!” he shouted in a voice drenched in a heavy accent unfamiliar to Bright Shine. It was thick and raspy, the words resonating from his barrel-like chest and slipping past his stubby fangs. “What does you wants?” he practically shrieked, cringing and blinking in the bright lights of the room. He shrank under their blaze.

“The patient needs sedating, Broodly.” Luna gestured calmly to Bright Shine. “You know, your job.” She let the words simmer.

“Is all this really necessary?” Bright Shine nervously scratched at a rash spreading at the nape of his neck. “What kind of procedure is this, Princess? I just need some help getting sleep at night, that’s all,” he insisted.

“We offer a very special service here at Sweet Dreams, LLP,” the Princess explained as the bat pony skulked back into his darkened room. Bright Shine could hear objects being thrown inside, and perhaps a few curses. “We offer patients the chance to diagnose and treat their dreams by actually entering them and facing them head-on,” the Princess continued. “It’s a real game-changer. I can tell it’s all a bit much to take in,” she pointed out.

“I just didn’t expect to have one of the Princesses running a therapy center in a place like this.” Did that sound rude; that sounded rude, he scolded himself.

“Well, the Royal Budgetary Committee wasn’t too keen on forking over the bits when I pitched the idea,” she retorted, her face twisting in a chiseled scowl. “Tightwads. And don’t even get me started on my sister.”

“And ponies that come in here don’t find it strange to see you? Seems like I would have heard about it around Canterlot at least.”

“A little disguise charm I picked up a while back,” she replied with a sly wink. “To everypony else, I look like some normal run-of-the-mill egghead.”

Bright Shine’s eyes searched the ground in front of him. “But not me?” he concluded. “I can see it’s you.”

“No, not you, Bright Shine.” The Princess stepped behind him, massaging his head and causing him to squirm uncomfortably. Her hooves were unimaginably cold, and they tugged at the electrodes stuck to his head. “No, I believe there is more to your dreams than even I can see. I felt it in your dream, your nightmare. I didn’t want to affect any potential data with any magical disguise.”

“And you think your therapy can help me finally get some sleep?”

“There is only one way to find out. We go inside,” she explained eagerly, her words spilling out. “We travel into your dreams and find the root of your nightmares, Bright Shine, with me as a guide.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” he still asked skeptically, shifting in his chair.

“Why, we have only the best of the best creatures on staff. Gilbert has been with me since the start. And you’ve met our in-house alchemist, Brood. Just watch out that you don’t leave anything shiny out near him or it might go missing,” Luna noted. “Then there is our newest replacement intern, Peppercorn. Smart mare she is.”

“Replacement intern?” Bright Shine repeated. “What happened to the last one?”

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” Luna said with a shrug, her ponytail bobbing up and down. “But if you smell anything funny or rank while you’re here, let us know. She had the keys to the break room fridge on her when she disappeared, and we’d really like those back.”

“I had a whole case of pickled sardines in there,” Gilbert chipped in.

“Quite a tragedy,” Luna observed.

The return of the bat pony stifled any further questions. He was an imposing creature, his massive hooked wings tucked at his side. A mop of raven hair swept over his back, his face bristling with a couple of days’ worth of facial hair. Brood had probably been a bit more solid at some point in history; the bat pony sported a healthy belly on him. But most of all, Bright Shine was drawn to the sharp fangs protruding from the pony’s upper lips.

“What are yous’ looking at?” the bat pony wondered, his orange eyes piercing Bright Shine with unbroken gaze. They glowed ever so softly.

“Nothing,” he quickly said. Bright Shine realized he had been staring.

Broodly produced a vial. He sported a belt of identical cylinders around his generous midsection, each tube filled with various bright, colored liquids. “Heres,” he hissed. “Drinks this,” he instructed Bright Shine, shoving the open vial before him. “It’s a mild sedatives.”

Bright Shine gave the liquid a tentative sniff. “You brew this yourself? Are you sure it’s safe?”

Broodly scoffed indignantly. Bright hoped he hadn’t offended the sharp-fanged thestral.

“Safe? I’ve trained unders the most skilled zebras,” he proclaimed, “studied the most ancient of tomes, and haves concocted potions powerfuls enough to—”

“You took a two-hour online class in my office, Brood,” Luna interjected. “Don’t be filling his head with any of your crazy, batish nonsense.”

“Whatevers.” He sneered and looked away. “Just drinks its. If it makes the wimpy pony feels better, it tastes likes bubblegums.”

Wimpy pony? With a quick swig, Bright Shine downed the liquid, his throat immediately burning as if he had swallowed fire. “What in Tartarus!” he blurted, coughing and sputtering on the words. “It doesn’t taste like bubblegum at all. It tastes like bleach.”

“Oh shit.” Brood quickly rechecked his potion belt, rubbing his nocturnal eyes in the bright light. “I knew I should have gottens label maker.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Luna assured him, pulling him back into the seat as he heaved. “You’re fine, just fine. Let’s get the patient into calibration, Gilbert,” she instructed, waving at the griffon. “Preferably before he makes a mess on the floor or soils himself.”

“Or boths at same time.” Broodly hesitantly backed away. “I swears, I am not cleanings up another mess.”

Meanwhile, the room spun around Bright Shine. His mouth was dry, and his head swam. “I don’t feel so good,” Bright Shine bubbled woozily to noponys’ notice.

“Tether is ready when you are, Doc,” Gilbert’s voice squawked through speakers around the dream chamber.

Bright Shine struggled to make out what he saw next; his eyes could barely focus as the concoction slowly robbed him of his senses. Through the chemical blur, he observed Luna take her place on the far side of the chamber. She strapped herself into a chair bolted to the wall, her hindlegs hovering inches above the ground. As she tightened the retaining harness, tendrils of magic curled from her horn toward a terminal contact above her head.

“Ok, this is it, Bright Shine: game time,” she told him. “Keep your focus and I’ll be with you in your dream shortly. We’re going in—together. Just whatever you do, don’t die,” she warned. “You die in our Dream Core, you die for real.”

“What!” he cried, hooves grasping at the torn upholstery before they were released by the effects of the elixir. The electrodes were warm on his head. “No, no, no! I’ve changed my mind!” Bright Shine struggled to sit up, but his limbs were weak. He couldn’t even lift a hoof; he was slowly slipping under, the room around him disappearing beneath a blanket of nothingness.

“Haha, just kidding.” He could barely hear Luna’s voice anymore, as if it were miles away by now. “But any pain will feel real and one hundred times worse. Like seriously, don’t get hurt while we’re inside. You’ll regret it.”

“No, no… no...”

---

Comments

[Direct Access]

The sheer lack of fucks given is so severely cliche and uncombinable with the characters that reading turns panful and uncomfortable.
For the only thing going on the head all of the time is simply "What the fuck?", "How the fuck did that happen?" and "That doesn't make any fucking sense."
For example, how in the fucking hell diamond dogs became criminal gang in the Canterlot, no one is doing anything about them and they dare to threaten Princess for protection money (successfully)?
Even if you imagine for a second that this Equestria is a dark future, it's still doesn't make any sense.

Now, i have only read first chapter, but it's the most important chapter of the story, because it decides whether people will stay or leave. And it doesn't inspire confidence in me at all.