Why Ponies Shouldn't Talk

by Dark Enigma

Rating: teen
Tags: Romance, Alternate Universe, Human
Length: 3856

What is friendship? What is love? If all boundaries between distant worlds are eliminated, who is to say two completely different beings cannot be friends? And who is to say that their friendship can't grow into something more?

The relationship between a brony and a pony can't possibly go beyond simple admiration. That's what Mark Wallburge believes before Derpy Hooves comes into his life. He refuses to accept his feelings for her, but as time goes on, his heart softens up. Suddenly, the idea doesn't seem so ridiculous. She feels as much as he does. Cut her and she'll bleed, hurt her and she'll cry. She isn't all too different from Mark. But he can't shake the feeling that this was never meant to be.

(Talk about playing with fire. Shipping a pony with a human is crossing so many lines, but I thought I'd give it a shot. Don't worry though, I think I can justify it towards the end. Plus there is no sex tag. I'm not that into ponies. I don't expect this to get too many likes since I am just playing around with some themes I think would make an interesting mix. Constructive criticism is always welcomed. And if you really like the story, I don't know when the next chapter will be done. This story is kinda low on my priority list of stories to finish.)

[Edit (10/1/2013): I want to finish this story before I move on to bigger projects, so I'm increasing the priority on this story. I'm sorry if I take forever adding new chapters; I'm still trying to grow my audience by perfecting my more successful stories and trying to get them past the EQD pre-readers.]

[Edit (12/9/2013): Should I continue this fic? Hmm, I kinda lost the passion to write it, but I still have the outline to it. And, besides, twelve is my lucky number, and so far, twelve people favorited this fic. Of course, there are also twelve dislikes which make me question my abilities as a writer, but I'm getting over it… slowly… Anyway, 3rd chapter… don't know when it'll be out, but I'll work on it. Slowly, but I'll get it done, then the fourth, then the fifth until I finish this fic. And even though the outline is done, I'm not to sure if that's how I want to end this fic. I made that ending in a rush, so the outcome of this fic will be a mystery to everyone, including myself. Ah, but it's almost X-mas, so I'll have an update by then. Just for you guys and gals who actually like this story. You all are awesome ;)]

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-12-25 22:35:10 UTC

Derpy

Rain… I hate the rain. The pitter-patter of droplets sounds like white noise which I find annoying. I’m cold and wet and not in a very good mood. Growing up I loved the rain. Jumping from puddle to puddle was the highlight of my day walking home from elementary school. The neighborhood kids always said, “Watch out, here comes Mark,” because I always splashed water in their face. Now, I’m nearly twenty and the desire to jump in puddles has dwindled away. Twenty… and I’m still walking home from school. Working on an Associate’s Degree at the nearby community college has been my focus since high school. But even that goal is dwindling away. I have no desire for anything anymore.

The rain lets up a bit as I enter the yard to the house my parents left me before they retired to their native country. It’s a small house, encircled with a green iron fence my father put up himself. The yard has a decent green pasture with a single oak tree at the far end. Directly opposite of the tree and beyond a concrete walkway that leads to the front door is a garden filled with a variety of wildflowers I never bother to prune. It’s quiet around here, always quiet.

When did my life change so much? I had all these plans, all these dreams, but the passion for those dreams just isn’t there anymore. My life is all just motion now, simple push and pull, every day, all day.

There is one thing that helps keep me going through my mundane existence. Before my best friend moved away to New York, he told me to watch this show, this stupid little show. He said I wouldn’t regret it, so I gave it a shot. At first I thought to myself, This isn’t for me. Candy-colored horses? This is for little girls. But, before I knew it, I watched another episode, then another and another. Soon I burnt through an entire season. Why did I keep watching it? I think it’s because it reminds me of a time when I actually had passion. Seeing Twilight Sparkle go through her adventures with such vigor, it made me wish I had her drive.

Today, after three seasons, my friend was right. I don’t regret it. It’s still my favorite show. Though I don’t feel the same way about it as before, it still brings a little joy to my heart every time those “candied-colored horses” grace my eyes. There were many times I wished they were real. But life drags on, and even that dream died away. Currently, season four is being worked on. The cool down time between seasons is always so depressing for me. I could always watch re-runs, but it isn’t the same as watching a brand new episode.

The rain picks up speed again. I need to get inside before this storm gets any worse. I pull out my house keys and reach for the door. As the locking mechanism turns, a crackling noise buzzes in my ears. I hear a faint whirring sound. A sudden explosion overhead makes me jolt my head in that direction. The resulting shock wave violently shakes the windows and knocks me down. My ears ring loudly, drowning out the rest of the world. A wormhole opens up over my front yard, or at least what looks like a wormhole. It’s ill-shaped and looks like it could collapse in on itself at any moment.

The wormhole fluctuates wildly. Like a bullet, a London police box shoots out from the wormhole. The sudden appearance of the mass shakes up the portal and it shrinks away. On the side of the box, a swirling body of energy similar to jelly is attached to it. They crash on my lawn. A weird explosion, sounding like someone hitting the side of an empty oil drum, echoes off into the distance. Pieces of the police box scatter across my lawn. From the debris rises the mass of swirling energy accompanied by two floating eyes. It has the rough shape of a man, but in place of its right hand is a wicked-looking blade with jagged edges made of the same energy as the entity.

It takes a step towards me. The grass under its feet shrivels up and fades away. It steps on the walkway and the concrete begins to crack and disintegrate. This thing is aging everything it touches! It raises its bladed hand to strike me. I put up my arms to defend myself, even though I know it won’t really help. I expect the blade to hit me at any moment, but it never comes. I peek through the divide between my arms. The monster is frozen in place. It twitches in and out of existence, gradually fading away. I glance around at the aftermath.

Various machine parts surround a crater in the middle of my yard. What a mess. I get up and walk to the center of the crash site. There are circuit boards of all shapes and sizes. Some gears over there, a tangled clutter of wires over here, a pony lying unconscious on the grass there… wait… A PONY?!

I blink twice to make sure I’m not hallucinating. No, it can’t be. My mind has to be playing tricks on me, but no matter how many times I look away and back, the pony is still there. I know this pony too. Her yellow mane delicately lies across her face. Her light gray body gently stirs as she breaths. On her flank are the iconic bubbles she is known for. It’s Derpy.

What do I do? Have I finally gone crazy? Has my dull life finally driven me to madness? There’s a fictional pony character on my lawn. She can’t be real, can she? I bend down over her and touch her cheek with my finger. It feels warm and smooth. She is real.

A machine sparks to life behind me. It’s a curious looking thing, circular in shape with various lights around it. The lights glow and cast a hologram over the machine. In the hologram stands Dr. Whooves.

“Hello? Is this thing on? Ah, there we go. Hello Ditzy, if you’re watching this recorded message then the TARDIS is destroyed, you have no way of returning home, and I am dead. But fear not my dear, for I am here to help, metaphysically speaking. Let’s see here… Ah, it looks like you’re in the Inth dimension on a planet called Earth. It seems like Earth is in every dimension, but with infinitely possible dimension, I don’t see that as much of a surprise.

“Anyway, Earth is filled with creatures called humans. They aren’t very, how you say, advanced, but they are resourceful. This machine will print you out a schematic a novice engineer from that planet can read. I simplified it as much as I could. It details the design of a teleporter that will open a portal to your home back in Equestria. Simply find somepony, achem, excuse me, I’ve been around ponies so long their wordplay has grown on me, someone who can help you get home. Oh, and if you’re too upset about my departure, don’t be. Time has a funny way of working things out. Till we meet again, this is the Doctor signing off.”

The hologram machine shakes and spits out some schematics just like the Doctor said it would. I pick them up and look at Derpy. She hasn’t woken up. I go to her side once more. Derpy looks so distraught. Her eyes flicker behind her eyelids. I can’t leave her out here; no brony in the right mind will. Do I just pick her up though? I still can’t believe this is happening. It feels like a dream, and any interference on my part will cause it to fade away and, deep down, I really don’t want to wake up.

Dream or not, the rain is getting worse. We need to get inside. Hesitantly, I scoop her up in my arms. She is surprisingly light. Though she is a pegasus, so she has to be light in order to fly. She groans in discomfort. I freeze, afraid that she’ll wake up. I have no idea what I’ll do if she does wake up. What do I say? She can talk, but will I be able to when the time comes? All these questions, and yet no answers… I sigh.

I carry Derpy over the threshold of my doorway. Inside there’s a living room with two relatively new red linen couches each accompanied with two throw pillows. A rectangular wooden coffee table over a wool rug dominates the center of the room. On the rightmost wall hangs a flat screen TV with a DVR connected to it. I have to watch MLP somehow. Next to the TV is a hallway that leads to the bedrooms of the house, three in total.

I place Derpy on one of the couches. Her mane is a mess and she is completely wet. I’m not any better. I head to my room to change into something dry. Afterwards, I get a towel from the bathroom to dry Derpy. As I stroke her with the towel, I can feel her breath under my touch. This can’t be real, but it feels real. She feels real. I place the towel on the ground, and sit on the couch opposite of Derpy. She’s still unconscious, but at least she looks a bit more comfortable.

What do I know about Derpy? She’s only a background pony in the show. The best background pony there is in my opinion. She isn’t my favorite though. That honor goes to Pinkie Pie and her hyperactive antics. But Derpy is the one in my home, not Pinkie. I know Derpy really like muffins and that gives me an idea.

I head to my kitchen, which is right behind the living room, and start to make some muffins. I get out some eggs, butter, milk, and all the necessary ingredients for a batch of muffins. This will show Derpy, once she wakes up, that I mean her no harm. Plus, it’ll help me ease her into the situation at hand.

The first batch is done, so I start working on the second. As I turn to grab some eggs I left on the counter, Derpy walks into the kitchen looking like a lost child. She looks at me and I look at her. I am completely frozen. My mind is blank and my tongue dry. She looks so innocent waiting for some kind of response. I see the muffins I made out of the corner of my eye and take one. I try so hard to control my trembling hand as I offer her the muffin.

Derpy smiles--either at the gesture or my nervousness--and takes the muffin. Her hooves touch my hand which cause a shiver to run down my spine. She takes a single bite out of the muffin and puts it down. “This muffin’s terrible.”

I clear my throat. “I-I’m not much of a baker.”

She giggles. “Don’t be nervous. I don’t bite.” She winces, rubbing her temple with her left hoof.

“Are you okay?” I ask with concern.

“My head really hurts.”

“You should lie down then. Come on." I lead her to the living room. She takes the couch I placed her in before. Without considering what Derpy would say, I gently grab hold of her head to see what might be the problem. Her mane flows like water through my fingers as I inspect her head. Derpy flinches from my grasp when I touch a sensitive bump. “You hit your head.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out,” she says still in pain.

I head to the kitchen and return with a plastic zip lock bag filled with ice. Derpy is holding her head, trying to ease the pain. I grab her hoof and place the bag on her injury. Then I place her hoof on the bag. “Hold it there.” She nods.

A Friend in Deed

"Um, what's your name?" asks Derpy.

"My name is Mark, Mark Wallburge."

Derpy giggles. "That's a funny name."

"Um, yeah? Around here it's a pretty normal name."

"Where I'm from," Derpy says, "ponies have names like Dazzle Flash, or Burst Fire, not Mark. What does that even mean?"

"Well, I'm not a pony." I thought she would have figured that out just by looking at me.

"Hmm..." Derpy inspects me. I feel a bit sheepish while she looks at me. It's not that I don't mind the attention. It's just, she's a girl and I don't talk to many girls; in fact, I don't talk to anybody since my friend moved away. Wait, did I say Derpy is a girl? I have to get these thoughts out of my head. She's a pony, nothing more. But then, why do I feel so nervous around her? "Hey, Mark?"

"Huh, yeah?"

"You've been staring at me for a while." I don't know if there's something off with the lighting in the room or if I'm just seeing things, but it looks like Derpy is blushing.

"Um, sorry. I was lost in thought. How's your head?" I stand back and sit down on the opposite couch.

"Better," says Derpy. "Um, I never told you my name."

"Oh, I know who you are."

"Really? How?"

"I... uh." Uh-oh, now what? I can't tell her she's a fictional character in my world. Who knows how she'll react? "Um, the Doctor told me."

Derpy gasps. "You spoke to the Doctor? Where is he by the way? Is he hurt?"

Double uh-oh, how can I be so stupid? Derpy is really close to Doctor Whooves. I would have been better telling her she is a made-up character in a show. "Um, never mind, just tell me your name."

"What? But you just said you knew my name."

"I-I meant to say--"

"What happened to the Doctor?" Derpy's eyes tear up. She knows I'm hiding something from her and she's expecting to hear the worst.

"I... um... how's your head?" Yeah, I suck at talking to people, I mean ponies, I mean... I don't know what I mean anymore.

Derpy steps off the couch and walks towards me. "Mark, please tell me." Her voice quivers at what I might say. Her tone is so innocent, so scared of what really happened. I don't think I can break it to her. I think my own eyes water up, but I can't tell because my heart is beating so fast; it's monotonous rhythm drowns out all my other feelings. Derpy sees a tear fall down my cheek. "He's dead, isn't he?"

Am I crying? These are ponies, not meant to be real. Can it be I actually feel something for them? I don't want to see Derpy cry just like I don't want to see a close friend cry. I may have only known Derpy for a couple of hours--most of which she was unconscious--but I see her in the show. I feel like that's enough to make her seem real. Good story telling can make any character seem real, even though they're just pixels moving on a screen or words scribbled on a page.

I look at my feet. Next to my shoes, I see Derpy's hooves and some water drops falling next to them. I glance up at the ceiling thinking the rain outside damaged the roof and is leaking in, but all I see is a flawless, white ceiling. I hear Derpy sobbing, still waiting for a response although my actions are the ones that give away the answer. I really want to comfort Derpy, put my hand on her head, stroke her mane, tell her that everything is okay, but I don't, I can't. As she breaks down, so do I. Her grief is contagious. It hits me like an arrow piercing my heart.

Derpy collapses on the floor, staining it with her tears. I look at her, my own tears joining hers. "Um--" I rub my eyes "--I can help you get home, back to Equestria. Doctor Whooves left some blueprints for a teleporter."

Derpy continues crying as if she doesn't hear me. I don't blame her. The shock of losing someone close to you can render you lifeless. I felt it when my only friend moved away. He didn't die, so I can only assume what Derpy feels right now is ten times worse than what I felt. What can make her feel better? I don't know. I never knew how to cheer someone up when they're this down. What makes me feel better?

I look at my DVR. Even in the worse of days, there is one thing that makes me feel like it's all okay. It got me through the loss of my friend and many things after. I reach for the TV remote and turn it on. The screen flashes blues as it waits for further orders. I turn on the DVR and flip through the episodes I have on there. Finding my favorite one, I set it to play.

Pinkie Pie jumps onto the screen. She puts on sweat bands and a head band as if she's going to run a marathon. She goes about stretching and practicing some facial expressions. Derpy's ears perk up and she looks at the TV. I think it's working; Derpy isn't sobbing anymore though her eyes are still watery. A thought makes me realize what I did is the right thing. If Derpy sees how much she misses Equestria, then maybe she'll actually want to go back.

Back in the show, Pinkie tries her best to make the baby Cakes laugh, but she fails, the two foals thinking she's just plain weird. Out of breath, Pinkie Pie sits down, landing on some metal jacks. The sudden jolt sends her flying to a ceiling fan. She spins and spins around the fan. It rejects her by tossing her into a pile of toys. Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake finally laugh. Seeing she did what she hoped to accomplish, Pinkie Pie says," Nailed it," and the opening begins to play.

Hearing Of Memories Elsewhere

The episode plays and even though my mind is trying to decode the many shapes and figures on the blueprints the Doctor left behind, in the back of my mind, I follow along with the dialogue. I've seen every episode dozens of times, so not even the overly complex system of equations can distract me long enough for me to forget what will be said next.

In fact, it's the opposite. The show distracts me from the blueprints and fills me with the same awe Derpy currently has in her eyes; though, to a lesser degree since I have already seen the episode. Soon, I give up on the blueprints entirely and join Derpy's side. It is weird seeing her watch her own world through a screen.

Maybe she hasn't realized it is a show completely under the control of its writers. But, since she travels--or rather traveled--with the Doctor, she has a different grasp on weird than I do. For all I know, this could just be another day for her--maybe not... Regardless, she is surprisingly calm about this.

By the time the second episode begins to play, Derpy has migrated from her original place towards the TV. I doubt she even noticed she moved--I didn't even notice she moved until the tip of her muzzle hit the TV screen. A smile creeps up on me; it's amusing to see her have so much interest in the show. I can see why though.

Even if she was around when these events transpired, she was most likely having her own adventure with the Doctor, so she is taking in the show the same way I take it in--as a distraction from reality. I tell Derpy, "You'll hurt your eyes if you stay that close to the screen," and it's only after I have said that I realize she might think of it as a bit morbid--as if I'm poking fun at her.

Luckily, all she does is look at me and smile...

But that smile... that dainty, innocent smile... After all she experienced, and she can still smile like that, MLP must have more power than I thought, or Derpy is much more freespirited than she otherwise had me believe. Either way, even after she backs away from the TV and continues watching the show, her smile is still there--engraved behind my eyes. I can't even smile in kind--I'm afraid my smile will do hers no justice. Instead, I hold on to a blank expression and say to myself hardly above a whisper, "She's just a pony."

As the episode continues, the CMC break into song, discussing who would be a perfect match for their teacher, Ms. Cheerilee. It's as if they believe that their teacher's only chance at happiness is to find her a special somepony. It's silly and somewhat idiotic, but not as idiotic as me for not remembering who passes by near the end of the song.

Can he stay on screen any longer? His screen time is about two seconds, but it feels more like two hours, and an eternity for Derpy. I bite my lip, hoping she doesn't notice him, but how can she not notice? Clear as day, he is there and not here.

The sound of a breaking heart is a gentle sound until it hits the ground. Derpy's head smashes against the floor and she begins to bawl. All the while, I still hold on to my blank expression. It's only when I feel a tingling sensation running down my cheek that I snap out of my stupor. Over and over, as I turn off the TV and go to Derpy's side, I repeat one thing in my mind, "Don't cry, I want to see that smile again."

Carefully and timidly, I place my hand where Derpy's neck joins with the rest of her body. What am I doing? Truthfully, I don't know what I am doing. All I can say is I am following a motion with no logical reason to explain why. I have seen it work on TV, but reality is hardly the same.

My touch elicits no immediate response from Derpy. There's no reason it should. All she knows is that she is in a strange world with a stranger, and no one to call a friend. I sigh, seeing I have failed to make her feel better. What can I possibly do? I look around the room and see the blueprints. If I can't cheer her up, maybe I can take her to someone--or somepony--who can.

"Hey, Derpy?" I ask, but there is no response in return, so I continue, "Do you want to go home?"

And at the sound of home, her ear twitches, and she says in between sobs, "Mm-hmm."