Balagan
Paf!
“Fluttershy, you’ve got to follow me now! The other Discord’s going to wake up!”
“Oh, uh… yes, Twilight! Discord told me before he went out—“
“You’re coming with me!”
Three directors’ chairs—named Faust, Renzetti, and de Lancie—sit across the other Discord’s medical bed. Monitor’s beeping signs showcase an increasing trend, more activity than a pulsating beat to doze off to.
“At least Equestria’s had some history with you!” Princess Twilight says panickedly to Discord on her left. “Earth may learn from your bad deeds, but that’s nothing compared to having their own Discord unleash chaos on these newfound creatures—!”
“Didn’t you say he only has chaos power,” asks Fluttershy, “and not the reality of chaos itself? Or something like that with dimensions… or equal stuff, or—“
“Shh!” His ear perks up, perches on a tree to sing. “Do you hear that? That’s the sound of—“
Boing!
Turn to the bouncy sound:
Coma patient’s uneven eyes wide open.
A flash of white and the Equestrian Discord’s by his bedside, round spectacles to provide a brain surgeon look. “I need to tell you something, buddy; please listen, and don’t try panicking. You’ve been in a coma for nine mo—“
“Wh-what am I?!” And up shoot his claw and paw, down to the rest of his serpentine body. “N-no! I… I’m just like them now, right? I saw everyone turning into weird things like you… and you, the little ponies!”
The two mares begin to stand from their seats, ready to act, but Discord puts up a mirror, showing his other self the full package. “You’re a draconequus. What’s your name, again?”
Unfazed by his appearance now; it’s just like the lunatic before him. “Um… uh, I’m, well, Discord! I-if you must know, I’m the son of Strife and de Vizion!”
“Hmm… parents? Check.” A scribble on his clipboard list. “Let me guess… oh, you’ve also gained that awareness, haven’t you? Sweet freedom sauce from the constraints of your reality, hm?”
Fragmented memories of nightmares past. Looked into the other side, peering in: other eyes reading, eyes somehow realer than him—
“Check. The crazed look in your eyes confirms it—“
A hitched breath. A claw to hold, raw energy coursing through his veins. “I can feel… so much change… so much power…”
And Twilight steps out, horn alight. “Alright, Discord, we’ve got to stop this! He’s clearly not well—“
“Oh, isn’t that right?!” the other Discord yells, hopping out of bed, patient’s clothes gone and IV detached, leaving behind rapid-fire beeps from the monitor. “Your world’s magic turned me into some demigod with insane powers, all after sleeping for months… and you think I’ll be alright?! I… I feel like I can do anything, really! I can bend time and space, I can feel like turning all of you into potted plants, I can summon every monster from my childhood dreams and turn them real, I can bankrupt everything by wishing for a mountain of gold… is that all true?!”
A gentleman’s cough leaves the Equestrian Discord. “Yes, my dear other-me, it—“
Paf!
In the far-north state of Mid-knight, a cabin not too far from civilization rages alone against the arctic, snow falling useless against the shack’s shabby planks.
Within this wood house Discord finds himself in, following the magical signature of his target’s fresh teleportation.
Said target now sits at a table, chisel in his claw.
“You don’t just run off like that! You haven’t even gotten through the tutorial! Though it’s hypocritical of me, I must guide you about your powers—“
“I’m… chaos, amn’t I?”
“Yes, yes, let’s establish that quickly!”—Discord flashes identification papers in, ranging from passports to driver’s licenses. “That’s the fun part… well, take fun responsibly—“ a beer bottle falls out of his limbs “—so as much as I hate to be some pony princess’s dog leash, you need some training wheels.” Roller skates manifest, given as an offer.
His other self blinks. Puts down his chisel, away from his work in progress.
And snaps the roller skates out of the cabin.
“Hey, what gives?!”
“Discord, please. Listen to me.”
“Listen to you?!” Storm clouds rage from above his head, lightning scorching the floor. “From what I’ve heard, you were just a beggar on the streets! The stars just happened to align so that you were to be this world’s Discord at the same age as I look when I was introduced to the wider world… while I… Discord, I am chaos itself, from time immemorial until time itself breaks down into nothing! So you better listen—“
“No, you listen.”
Authority from old age, wisdom forgotten, rasp scraping against his hoary throat: these, tucked into his answer.
A stool builds itself from nothing, falls under the Equestrian’s legs. “Fine. What’s your little sob story?”
Inhale the warm scent; breathe in a tinge of varnish, the crisp scent of sawdust that once lurked around here. That phantom sense of fingers in brand-new talons and paw-digits, groping against raw wood.
“I was only a beggar for about a few hours. Before then, I lived off my parents’ pension, separated though they may be… who knew woodwork wasn’t so profitable in the world-famous Silicon Fields of Canterlot City? Bah! It was a mistake moving from Mid-knight, try to hit it big time in Canterlot, only to have eight generations of lumberjacks and carpenters end with me unable to afford the little apartment we’ve had and kicked out to the urban wild… for a short time, mercifully.”
“Serendipity this Change is, don’t you think?”
A glare is shot, enough to silence any future witty remark.
“You might’ve figured out what this place is, Discord: it’s my family home. Or a part of it, at least. The old one from long ago. And you wanna know what we made here after a hard day of chopping down ancient trees that reach as high as the sky?”
Without the assistance of convenient chaos magic, he walks over to a door, to open. A beckon with the paw, and his much older counterpart leans in to behold:
A little chamber, a tiny archive, of cabinets and drawers stacked upon one another. No crystals to shoot the price up nor precious metals to churn out an automatic antique: only wood, curls and mountains and faces carved into timber in exquisite detail, particle-esque. And the smell, that redeeming smell of wood collected over the years floods the senses, a hint of mint like many of the pine trees occupying these cold northern territories.
“You… partook in cabinetry?”
“Yes, Mister Discord. I partook in cabinetry because that’s who I am. That’s who my family is… or was. Within cabinetry, whenever you let your hands shape wood into something much greater, you partake in the simple joy of creation.”
“Let me guess: This is a moral lesson primed to shame me in dragging you out.” He takes the dunce hat off his head. “And before you speak… yes, I know what it’s like to create and not just get whatever I want, whenever I want. Being friends with Fluttershy has taught me how mortals like what you used to be saw things. So what’s your point?”
Against this old draconequus, the former human can only sigh. “If you’re the spirit of chaos, the best thing you can do is to let me be. You have my word to the pony princess or whoever that I don’t want to cause chaos.”
“But you’re me!”
“We disagree, don’t we? Then that should be enough. I’ve already had enough of your chaos powers… coma nightmares peering into the beyond, rambling about canons and readers and typing commas… just go. Let me make something in peace.”
And after a reluctant while of seeing whether his Earth-self would change his mind, Discord snaps himself away.
A smooth blow on the surface, just to be sure, and it is done. Sharpened saws and their dust, banging hammers and tapes to measure with, stains and finish to complete the look:
A cabinet. Specifically, a drawer. Fit across a bed or gracing a beginner’s living room. Nothing too fancy. Had to resort to power tools, though; paws and claws are awkward against a now fat-handled chisel. Still, there’s always next time, precious time to get used to the abomination he’s somehow become.
Now, a return to form. A time to admire the fruit of his work.
“Uh, Discord?”
Scared out of the living daylights. “Wh-what are you—oh… you’re one of the ponies from the hospital, right? How did you get here?”
“I, um…” Rubs a foreleg; a familiar face yet not the same. Has to remind herself of that. “I had Discord… well, our Discord bring me here. Oh… before I forget, my name’s Fluttershy.”
A claw is sharpened, feeling out its talons as he scratches them. “That funny witchcraft, teleportation is.”
“Yes. But it’s now a part of you.”
“So what?” A pair of crossed arms. Sits down on a chair though he’s conscious of his lankier figure needing more control, more thought, just to stay upright. “This eagle’s claw is a part of me, but I’m not going to use it to tear flesh apart. Anyway, why are you here? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
There are a few sideways glances. Sawdust tucked away in a neat garbage bin, a couple planks of bargain plywood but also some pine and fir, some sturdy cedar—even the western favorite redwood is among its ranks. A couple labels abound, citing trees’ names; a bucket list hangs on a forgotten noticeboard, with expensive timbers such as bubinga, bocote, purple heart…
“You’re pretty lonely here, Discord.”
“Psh. Thanks for stating the obvious.”
“No, really.” Her soft whisper of a voice versus his authoritative yet cranky ring. “It wouldn’t hurt to… understand you more, right? Or at least… to just spend time with you and…”
Up to a chair she flutters, to sit down with him. To look around and take in her surroundings.
Not much left to see.
On a desk, family photos of a younger Discord. Grandfathers wield axes together at a reunion, beards as long as a wizard’s, swapping tales about broken metal heads and having trunks almost land a friend in the hospital. Father wears a jumper, directing everyone’s attention to his cabinets, photo in high enough quality to churn out the sweat frozen at that moment. Mother kisses her son on the cheek, the little boy embarrassed, yelling Mom! as he sawed off a tiny plank: his first step into a long-standing bloodline passion.
“I don’t feel like I deserve it.”
That prompts Fluttershy to turn around, to question. “But why? You clearly have a talent here.”
A paw points out the dust and cobwebs collecting in a corner. “Talent enough will not suffice. I have used it well for the longest time… until we moved to Canterlot. I was able to sustain us for a long time, but…”
“But what?”
“Ugh… I got caught up, okay? You pluck some rural boy from the arctic woods and drop him into the big city just like he asked, and what do you expect? The booze, the women, the rock and roll… I’m not even old enough to say that last part and sound out of touch. Argh… it’s simple: I blew it all off. We had to sell our little branch here, and it was me making cabinets on contracts out of our little apartment, annoying Mom and Dad at night every day. And the neighbors…
“And what do I get for all this? After practically sending my parents to an early grave and spending the little I had to make sure they had a decent funeral and getting kicked out? The magic thing happens, and the universe’s cursed me with… magic.”
“Magic isn’t so bad, Discord—“
“Says the talking horse with wings. But…” His look droops. “This doesn’t feel fair! I poured my ancestors’ legacy down the gutter, and the magic lottery comes up to give me absolute power as my reward! You know the saying, don’t you? Absolute power corrupts absolutely!”
“And what are you going to do about it?” she asks innocently.
“I was…”
Then, staring off. Off to the window. Past the window, snow continues to fall against bleak autumn darkness. Hints of light outside, the faintest reminder of civilization.
“I don’t know. Imprisoning myself in some bubble… but I wouldn’t want that. I still want freedom, but I feel guilty over being free like that… and what about my relatives? My cousins… would they be like me or would they just be ponies like you? I’m the black sheep of the bunch, so… why? Why me? It’s… just not fair…”
And a hoof over him, to comfort. Not exactly a hand, but it’s assuring enough.
“If we had to be fair all the time, then we wouldn’t have second chances.”
That’s enough for Discord to look, to peer into her eyes.
“You can still work wood… but now there’s magic. Chaos magic… one of the most powerful forms of magic out there.”
“But surely, you must remember that it can still corrupt!”
“Then that’s one reason to have friends around here.” She spreads a wing, sweeping the whole place with one turn. “You must’ve worked with your father here before you moved, right?”
“Well, yes… and Grampa Dissonance as well.”
“Then maybe you can invite them here! And with magic, you can certainly add something new to your talent, right?”
“I can at least make myself… different, stand out from the competition, sure…”
“But don’t you see, Discord? This is a second shot, your second shot! Not all creatures could get one after messing up so badly, and not everyone who does still accept it, but with you, maybe…”
She trails off, and Discord can’t help but sigh. A curse but a blessing. Even the meta stuff he’s held off from mentioning to Fluttershy yet—all the stuff about an audience, a TV show spin-off further spun off into the realm of fanon, ramblings about fourth walls and seeing beyond some cave’s shadows—but he holds tight.
Holds her hoof tight.
“I’ll think about it.”
Six months later
“So what do you want to show me?” Princess Twilight asks Fluttershy, the pair fresh from crossing Mid-knight’s portal terminal with Equestria.
Already, a little line has formed up by a newly opened shop, about to spill over to the sidewalk. Reading the shop’s sign from afar—“Oh, it’s a familiar face!”
Once inside, Twilight can’t help but muffle a gasp too loud—
“Ah, hello there!” And Discord bends down, bowing down before royalty while a customer nags him about some prices. “I did not expect your esteemed presence to bless our day.”
Twilight can only blink, nudging a hoof toward the errant mare tailing him. “You seem… tame today.”
“Compared to that crazy old geezer you have back home, yes, I am.” His smile is genuine, though sincerity is difficult with a snaggled tooth jutting out. “Why don’t you come take a look at my wares? They are quite a treat… and yes, madam, we’ll get to your little issue in just a moment.”
So Discord leads the way, discussing how his higher-than-average prices are fair enough, leading them deeper into his cavern of timber.
“He’s really down to earth,” Twilight begins, exchanging a glance with Fluttershy as they both window-shop from within, beholding a variety of shades and textures, of cabinets and bureaus. “And orderly. Almost too orderly.”
“Oh, just you wait,” goes Fluttershy, a knowing brow rising to action.
Then, Discord steps up on a platform. There, a desk already taking its place center stage. Ordinary: an unassuming drawer, made of oak as advertised. Still, the name given to it on the poster is Discord’s Determined Destroyer! rife with metal guitars and lots of fire graphics.
“Of course, madam, recycling and reusing things can only get you so far. There are some cases where you just want something to disappear completely! You can order a shredder, but some hyper-paranoid government agency can just send top agents to find the missing strips and piece together your precious secrets. So what do you do?”
His claw snaps.
And fire lights up the desk’s surface, ablaze to burn the stack of papers away, its ash floating upwards and dispersing into nothing but perfume-scented motes. Smells of wood, even, as ooh’s and aah’s shoot through his ears.
“So of course, dear lady, I can’t sell this special, one-of-a-kind drawer at the low, low price you’re asking. As you can see from this amazed audience, demand for such a thing is high, and while I can make a dozen more over a few weeks… leveraging my one-of-a-kind chaos magic for profit is a viable strategy.”
And the mare gulps, already feeling the wallet in her saddlebags burning up. Metaphorically and hypothetically, most fortunately.
“Oh, but wait, there’s more!”
And a slew of platforms rise up from the ground at the snap of a lever… and there, several more cabinets come up, complete with their own posters: a table bursting with flowers from within its aging cracks, a cabinet with a one-in-five chance per week to grant the owner a free bar of chocolate when a certain drawer is open, and a bed frame that bends the mattress and its own wooden structure to accommodate the sleeping posture of the buyer—
A poof, with everyone distracted. Even Twilight and Fluttershy haven’t noticed.
In the shack’s bitter cold, exposed now as winter barely turns to spring, he sighs in relief Being a showman, acting the part, is pretty good; chaos magic was pretty much showmanship personified, taken to the extreme with nigh unlimited resources.
He dismisses the thought of them, everyone watching him there. Dismisses the very concept of you and me, ready to be alone.
And there, a little box to hold. Made of wood—simple enough, made of cheap plywood. A little heart, etched onto it.
Within, photos of him and all his family, even up to the fourth generation—smiling. The bedraggled beard of his father, the tender hug from his mother—the thought of them still living, surviving… changing with him, staying with him. At least, to be there as constant guiding lights—
“Papa Discord! Look what I made!”
And down he looks: there, a drifter, barely beyond a teenager yet still wearing that funny little propeller cap of hers. Adopting a little case like her, even if as just an apprentice for now—to nurture, to cultivate, help pass down the talent along his line. Her cutie mark even had a screw in it, and the other half of her cutie mark already offered opportunities to expand…
She holds up a baseball bat she made: good and strong. Fresh, scented—from a touch, there’s a hint in his mind that it’s made of maple, not like ash which is to be found in most major league teams. Already, a bevy of ideas invades his mind: bats heavy enough to throw basketballs and even bowling balls high into the sky, making a couple of bleachers that pitch up and down like a high-tech cinema—
“Why, you’ve hit this one out of the park, dearest Screwball! You want to test it out?”
With that, sharing her giggles, he turns to accompany Screwball down to another table where she’ll make another one just like this.
And with a claw outstretched, he closes a literal door on us, leaving him to enjoy his time in peace.
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He's a mad genius of wood!
Very sweet, I certainly enjoyed it.
11073724
I had Call of Duty in mind, but really, any generic first-person shooter would do for this scenario.
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11074170
Speaking of other jobs and the gig economy, there's the rise of delivery/ridesharing apps over here in my place. Suppose I put in something about Derpy here in the near future...
11073761
Whether I was aware of it or not while writing this, addressing Earth's Discord wasn't easy. Glad to know that it did work out in the end.
Oh, this is a lovely take on formerly human Discord. The craftsman, shaping the new from raw materials with a delicate touch and an artist’s eye. Glad I finally read this. Thank you for it.