Author's Note

Well fuck, apparently I was in a productive and a writing mood the last few days, so have some filler while you wait for the rest!

The Day and The Night

This is it, Werda. After today I'll officially be a Lunar Guard.

Quite an accomplishment, though has anypony figured out how exactly you're supposed to actually wield your newly found authority since the citizenry consider you an extremely well trained pet?

Nope.

Well I'm certain that this will all end splendidly.

Someone piss in your Cheerios? You're sounding a little sarcastic today.

It just bugs me that the two most powerful ponies in the world have such terrible foresight. The Nightmare Moon incident has started to make more sense the more I've studied.

That's all above my head, at this point I'm just going with whatever flow allows me to keep my balls.

Do you really think they'd allow you to be neutered?

Nope. But I also don't want to risk it.

You're incorrigible.

Eyup.

A deafening applause interrupted the conversation we were having backstage as the ceremony finally ended. I'd asked, and been granted, permission to skip the main ceremony. They'd seemed rather relieved, probably due to not wanting to explain me to the masses, though the Night Guard ceremonies were apparently much smaller in scale than the Solar Guard's. It probably had something to do with only have a handful of new recruits each year.

The newly minted Guards and our specific deity of all things lunar related walked back behind the curtain. The few senior Guards that were around rounded the group out, and Luna gave us our first commands.

"You are officially one of our own, young ponies and human, and so we shall celebrate the newest additions to our family tonight!" And with that admittedly vague statement, she charged up her horn and we were all swept away to a bar I had become quite familiar with.

"I appreciate your business, Princess, but you really do need to give me some warning. I'm pretty sure ol' Tusk over there's having a heart attack." The gyphon behind the bar, known simply as Tyr, remarked with a small bow.

"Nonsense. Everypony down here knows what today is."

"Everyone, Princess." I point out, holding up my board that I'd hastily scrawled the word on.

"Does anypony become offended when you call a group 'the guys', even though some are, in fact, female?"

"You're not wrong, but it is kinda racist." Tyr added.

"You're saying that I'm Racist? Princess Luna of the Night Sky? Racist? Is that any way to talk to your Princess, my good sir?" Luna retorted haughtily. The newest Guards had tensed up, while the others had seen similar scenes between the two before, and were already raiding the bar.

"Probably not, but I'm too old to care, since I don't have eternal youth to stave the Reaper off."

The princess glared at the gryphon, who just stared back at her while cleaning a mug. Finally, when the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, the princess let out a full-bellied laugh which was followed by the barking laughter of the gryphon. "This is why I always choose your establishment, Tyr. It's amazing how many barkeeps in this day and age forget that they are the lords of their domains within their walls.

"The pleasure is mine, Princess. Nights were the patrons always pay for both the drinks and the property damage by sunrise are the treasures of barkeeps everywhere."

"I'm glad you appreciate my gold so much." The Princess replied with a roll of a her eyes. "Everypony, cut loose! The Treasury is paying for tonight's celebration!"

With a loud cheer at the proclamation, the party began. Favorite drinks were ordered, kegs were brought up from the cellar, and a jukebox was acquired. Where the jukebox was from, I have no idea, I just knew it was one of the old school vinyl ones and absolutely massive. The regulars mingled with the guards and the dull roar of the crowd talking was punctuated by the eclectic mix of music that played in the background. I managed to not draw too much attention until the Grand Bat of Bitchiness got drunk enough to start talking about me.

"I'm still not sure where they managed to find that bastard son of a minotaur and a monkey, but he somehow managed to get this far, so I guess he's not that bad." The mare stated with a hiccup.

"He's definitely a scrappy one." Deft added in agreement.

Agreeing with an exaggerated nod, Comet Streak noticed me in the corner. "Heeeeey! Jaaack! Come over here and share a drink!"

The fuck did they spike that mare's drink with?

Who knows, this could be an opportunity to get her off your back though.

Welp, here goes nothing.

The sound of scraping and a greetings meet me as I make my way over.

"Take a seat big boy! Plenty of booze to go around!" The definitely very drunk mare says three feet to my left.

Is she drinking something I'd use to clean grease off an engine or did she just start chugging as soon as we got here? Pointing it at Deft, I hope she's at least sober enough to be coherent.

"Na, she's just a lightweight."

In that case, pass me something so I can get wasted and make some new friends!

"That's the spirit lad!" An even older and more grizzled gryphon than the barkeep exclaims, passing me a bottle of something.

Taking a swig, my eyes practically glow. Motherfucking moonshine! Fuck yeah! And some good shit too, not something some crazy old man made with an old radiator.

"Only the finest from my families brewery laddie!"

And so it goes on, drinking moonshine and talking about our exploits. Gunderson, the old bird, was apparently a mercenary in his youth, and definitely knew how to spin a yarn. I'm not sure if I believed his story about stealing a chest full of treasure right from under a dragon's nose, but I'll be damned if it wasn't a good story. Deft mentioned that she'd once been a part of a pirate's crew, and not just any pirate, but under the flag of Grain Maul herself! Apparently she's a legend, a fiery maned royal who forsook her lineage and life of ease for the freedom of the high seas. A minotaur that apparently went by the name of Vial Smasher told of his capture by the zebras during one of his clan's raids. Well, capture is the wrong word, since he was a berserker. Anyway, he basically became an indentured servant to some crazy witch doctor, so now he was a berserker with the alchemical knowledge to create an all purpose anti-pain, poison, and venom potion that worked better the harder he raged. And that's just barely scratching the surface without mentioning the obvious tall tales.

By this point we were all good and drunk, laughing like old friends instead of people we'd just met and others we hated. Alcohol has a way of doing that when it doesn't cause all hell to break loose. Looking around, I realized I could actually be friends with these guys, even McBitchtits over there, who's slightly drooling all over Deft. At the thought, a weird tingle crosses over my body, kind of like when somebody tries to levitate me, but without the mild sting.

Hey, anybody know if there's a guitar around here?

"I think Tyr keeps one behind the bar, why?" Gunderson asks with a small burp.

Got a weird feeling telling me I should play a song, and maybe a little bit of homesickness. The song I had in mind was from one of my parent's favorite singers. With that I stumble around the bar, and see an old six string tucked neatly into one of the shelves. Grabbing it reverently, I go back to the table and spend a few minutes tuning it before getting started.

"Blame it all on my roots
I showed up in boots.
And ruined your black tie affair.
The last one to know, the last one to show,
I was the last one you thought you'd see there."

The words just flowed, and I'm pretty sure it came out better than it had any right to. By the time the song ended, the entire bar started cheering.

"I have no idea what you were singing Jack, but that sounded amazing!" One of the support staff yelled from across the room, a thestral stallion who went by the name Crackling Doom, of all things.

It's definitely not something I've ever written, and I'm not even the biggest fan of the genre, but a drinking song seemed appropriate.

"Play some more! You've got a surprisingly soothing singing voice." Comet mumbles from Deft's shoulder, though I hadn't even realized she was still awake.

Eh... Hell, why not?

But really, what to play? More drinking songs? It's not like they could understand the lyrics, so they were missing out on a the point. Ah fuck it, more bar songs.

"Work, work all week long
Punchin' that clock from dusk till dawn.
Countin' the days till Friday night
That's when all the conditions are right.
For a good time
I need a good time."

More applause, and more requests for more. Unfortunately, I was hitting my limits, and that moonshine was definitely starting to do it's thing.

Sorry everyone, I'm starting to see triple at this point. Maybe at some other time I'll play some more. A few sighs of disappointment, but nobody argued.

"Damn laddie, didn't know what you said, but I'll speak for us all and say it resonated!"

Thanks Gunderson, and it was probably due to them both being drinking songs.

"You should learn how to sing them in a language we'd understand."

Find me a language that I can actually do something with and I'll oblige! I lean back, chuckling at the thought of being able to speak this place's animal sounding languages.

The party started to wind down after that, as most of the people were asleep where they lay, and the other half were drowsy and remembering the good days with old friends. Eventually, the siren's call was too much and I fell asleep, slumping against the pony next to me.

The next morning was something else, as everybody was strewn about the place. Not a single person was able to walk out of the place under their own power, it seemed. Hearing a high pitched eep coming from my current pillow, it dawns upon me that my snuggle pillow for the night was none other than Comet Streak.

"Wh-what are you doing?" The wide eyed mare asked.

Apparently you're comfortable to snuggle with.

"That doesn't answer my question."

I could ask one of my own. For instance, why are all the mares on this planet such fucking hardliners? I swear I could count on one hand the number of mares I've talked with that didn't instantly start at either 'Fuck me now' or 'I will consume your soul'. Seriously, what's up with that?

"Because you're either a bastard or a nice guy. I've seen how you treat Cherry."

You do realize you started this, right?

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that being told a dog was as smart as me was supposed to actually be taken seriously." The mare retorted with a snort.

Apology accepted. I'll even forgive you for trying to drug me if we can stop this shit. It's gotten tiring over the last few weeks.

"Start over huh, fresh field of snow? Eh, fuck it, my head hurts too much to keep this up right now. Now be useful and let me finish sleeping." The mare grumbles as she shoves me over and curls up on my torso.

I think that's a yes?

It wasn't a no. I'm sure she'll come to her senses once she awakens.

Damn. You're a cruel Mistress, you know that?

Being stuck in your head and watching you interact with mares is enough to drive anypony up a wall.

If you say so, Mistress. If you say so. Think I'll grab some more sleep as well, night.

Good night.