Zane's Zaney Adventures in Ponyville

by Tangled Plot

Rating: teen
Tags: Human, Adventure, Crossover
Length: 3718

What happens when a procrastinating high school (Brony) junior falls asleep at the desk? Who knows, but it's sure to be grand.

When high school junior Zane Fallosh, a brony with a habit for normalcy, falls asleep with a paper due, Pinkie steps in to sort him out. Just how will this play out for Zane? Read to find out how Zane can cope with the life lessons thrown his way.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-02-15 18:14:16 UTC

Proscrastination

You know, there are a ton of ways to procrastinate a paper. Sitting at your computer staring at it is one of my favorites. Why, you might ask? Because when a high schooler logs onto facebook when homework is on the line, oh boy do parents freak. At least, mine do.

Hi, my name is Zane. Now you can take whatever snarky comment about not knowing my name, and shove it. I catch enough bs from my parents, without factoring in my twin. I figure you’re here to call me crazy: join the line. It ends somewhere after Oprah Winfrey. They call it some sort of perverted schizophrenia. They say it’s obsession. They don’t know shit. My story won’t change, not even if Aphrodite incarnate came and asked me to. Well, maybe if it were Aphrodite. It’s hard to say no to the goddess of love, even if she doesn't exist. But I know what I saw. And it started much like this.

I was sitting at my desk, procrastinating on my laptop. As a brony, I had decided that the best way to procrastinate would be to watch and rewatch my favorite episodes, things like ‘Read it and Weep,’ or ‘Apples to the Core.’ It was late, and I was spacey. At some point, I passed out. I remember that I was having this amazing dream, but I couldn't tell you now what I saw. What happened after it was just too… startling.

The first thing I noticed was this… sensation. It was like, rubbing your face against your pillow, if your pillow decided it wanted hair, and that hair wanted to plug up your nose. I started, falling back out of the hardwood chair I’d been sitting in. I think it left a few scratches, because my dad was furious the next day. You’ll probs get to hear about that later, if everyone decides to stick around. Right, Miss Plot? (A strange looking woman, who had been typing all this up, nods.) Great. The second thing I noticed was a pressure on my chest. I remember thinking, Oh my god, the roof collapsed and I’m gunna die, until it was lifted off of me and I got my first visual; the color pink invaded the space around my head.

“Silly head! Laying on the floor won’t get your paper done!”

What. The. Fuck, I thought to myself, sitting up. What, how, who?? Is tha- I screamed. Like a little girl. In an octave not appropriate for a male to shriek. Why? Why would I try to break glass with my voice? Well, what would you do if something that didn’t-shouldn’t- exists shoved you on the ground and told you to do your homework. I was beyond terrified, with my fists clenched to the bone and my pupils dilated beyond my irises. It was that bad.

“Wha-wha-AHHHHHHHH!” was all I could do as I scrambled away from her.

“That’s not very nice, Mr. Chaser. You’re nice on the forums!” That was true, I was relatively nice on the forums. I try to teach most people with respect. Or, I did, until humanity turned on me. “Here, let me show you something.” Her hoof took my hand firmly, as I flinched away. As terrified as I was, well… In case you haven’t figured it out, it was Pinkie Pie. And there is something to be said about a pink pony dragging you to a computer screen. If you can get over your fear, it’s actually quite hysterical. It’s when she tries to drag you THROUGH a computer that your fear reemerges like a cigarette starting a wildfire.

Pinkie Pie has a strong grip. Not only that, but she actually does way a little more than me, do to the natural anatomy of a pony. Even a cartoon one. I flailed as she jump at my screen. She hit it, and passed through all the way up to my hand. Then there was something akin to a jerk as the 4th wall stopped me. My speakers sparked to life as her voice came on again, “Oh, this won’t do! I have something I reeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaly need to show you. Hmm, maybe if I just pull harder…” I heard a snap, and the world exploded inwards.

Floating. That is what death feels like. It isn’t unpleasent; you can breathe pretty normal, though whatever you’re floating in isn’t really air. At least, that’s what I thought death felt like, until I was rudely awakened by a pink vixen of a mare. “Honestly Pinkie, you killed me. Let me die in peace.”

“Silly filly, you’re not dead.” I had guessed that from the harsh rainbow of colors that blinded me when I opened my eyes. Eyes that I firmly closed again to shut out that light.

“Then let me float. Whatever you did, I feel drained.”

“Oh, that. Yah, see, you’re inside the uhh… umm, whatcha call that thing that separates our worlds?”

“You mean animator vacations, or the fourth wall?” I tried sarcasm to see if she’d go away.

She snorted, “Good one! But be nice to the animators, they have to rest their hooves too! The fourth wall is a very powerful place. And I am, like, the gatekeeper! Trixie sometimes uses portals, but since they don’t come through here, there can be side effects. Hey, wakey wakey! If you sleep, I’ll have to drag you back here.” I tried to go back to sleep. I really did. But even a toothless alligator hurts when applied correctly.

“Agghh! I’m awake, I’m awake,” I told her, her alligator hanging limply from my arm. “Gummy should only be used in emergencies, dang it!”

“Ohh, I see you’re losing your swears! Good, good, ponies in Ponyville won’t much understand them. Now then, some questions!”

“Uhh, Ponyville? Pinkie? Where are you taking me?”

“Just answer me these questions three, and along on your quest thee will be!” She said, laughing. She had seen my DnD youtube video. My cheeks flushed, and I cursed my ability to blush quickly more than ever.

“What- is your name?”

As I began answering, my mind blanked. I felt like a steady video tape of my memories was being fed into some generator, and I swear I heard a ding, “Thunder Chaser. Wait, what?”

“Good, good. What- is your talent?”

-Ding, “I write stories, when I can find the motivation.”

“Awesome, now then; what is your quest?”

I fought. I fought with all my might to say, “To finish my science paper.” I think it would’ve made her giggle, and made my life much easier. But, as I heard that methodical ding, what I actually said was, “To find true happiness.” I felt a hoof on my shoulder, as I looked down at the pink mare. I felt funny, and it wasn’t just the sincere smile she was pulling off. She hoofed me something and I turned it over. On one side, it looked like a United States passport. When I flipped it, it looked like a leather book with my new name on it.

“Welcome to Ponyville, Thunder Chaser!”

Foreign Traveler

Foreign Traveler

Have you ever been outside of the country? No? Well, there’s an interesting phenomenon known as culture shock. At least, I call it culture shock. It’s where you find yourself in an entirely new place, with little to no idea what’s going on. You want a technical definition? Wiki it. I’m not a dictionary. But, passing through the fourth wall does several things to a person.

For instance, hooves. Four of them. And wings. Hair in your face. Let’s not forget an annoying pink mare in your face, saying, “Hey silly goose, you can’t lay around all day! That’s Rainbow Dash’s stick.”

It as like re-learning my body, starting with my eyes. Bigger, and rounder, they caught more light. Then, my legs. I flexed them for a good solid five minutes trying to figure out what I was doing, much to the amusement of certain bubble-gum-colored party pony. When I did finally stand, I almost fell back down. I have what’s called Portal Sickness, something a human won’t diagnose until we actually have portals. In the process of my atoms being re-arranged, my immune system acts up. Anything out of place gets attacked. It keeps me from contracting some strange disease before my pony immunities kick in, but it also makes me dizzy, tired, and nauseated. Welcome to Ponyville! “Why- did you do- this to me?”

“Because! You looked so sad at your computer! Besides, you don’t smile anymore.” I didn’t have anything to say to that. My dad had divorced a few years ago. Having recently remarried, I’d been trying to be nice to the new family member. But, I couldn’t help but resent her. Since she’d come into my life, nothing could be stable. That, and I could do nothing right, I always felt stupid, and accepting that I was a shitty person seemed the only way to move forward. So, I decided that I was a shitty person. There was, however, a problem:

“You’ve been watching me?”

“Well, duh! You’ve been watching ME for three years! It’s only fair that the screen is two ways! I gotta say though, you’re pretty boring to watch. You’re life is kind of like a sad soap opera. Good news though: Morgan Freeman does the voice overs.” I didn’t know which part hurt more, the bit about my life being a soap, or the fact that it’s only redeeming quality was Morgan Freeman. Then again, it was Morgan Freeman…

“Listen, just… Take me back. I’ve gotta work tomorrow, I can’t be doing… What are we doing? Oh wait a minute,” I laughed pitifully, “I must’ve fallen asleep at my computer. Let’s see… how to wake me u-” Pinkie’s party cannon was both loud and unexpected, “GAH!”

“Oh, I thought for sure that would wake you up. Unless you were already awake, which could mean that this  is all really happening…” I don’t know who was more confused, me or her.

“I suppose it won’t kill me to dream this one out. I mean, I have wings right?” I thought aloud. She gave me this strange look, somewhere between a warning and a cringe. I thought about the newest season, where Twilight was trying to fly, and I cringed to. “We could wait on that, I suppose.” The portal sickness was wearing off, and I was getting bored of standing around.

“So, Miss Pie, shall we see how this quest will play out?” I asked, in my best dungeon crawling voice.

She giggled, “Oh, Mr. Chaser, you’re so strange.” I blinked at a shimmer to my right on instinct, and followed her to Ponyville.

Where to Settle?

Where to Settle?

Where were we? Oh yes, following Pinkie into Ponyville. We had been having a conversation, but it wasn’t really important. At least, not in that you need to know about it. All you really need to know, is that the conversation turned eventually to my plans on house placement.

Pinkie wanted me to stay with her, because, “There’s nopony happier in Ponyville than me!” I didn’t want to stay with her for a few reasons, mostly reasons I couldn’t share with her. My interactions with others tend to lean away from pissing them off. I thought about it, and realized that, as a Pegasus, I could technically room everywhere in Ponyville. I knew Rainbow Dash was pretty chill, as far as ponies go. I try not to rank them anymore as they’ve become not only real, but friends in my life, but at the time I had more of an inclination towards Applejack. Even so, I knew that she woke early, worked hard, and worked long. I didn’t want to be a burden.

We had stopped walking as I thought on and on about who to room with; no on Fluttershy, due to animal magnetism. Even though I liked them, trusted them, sometimes even befriended them, I didn’t want to room with a good 50 or so of them. N-o on Rarity, because I did NOT dig the drama. Well, we know who that means, “I’ll room with Twilight. You know, as long as she’s alright with it.”

Pinkie looked a tad hurt, but bounced back. She’s pretty quick at bouncing back, very expressive with her realization gasps. I can tell you don’t understand what I mean by that sentence: it means that she gasped, and it was loud. It was the kind of gasp that filled her like a balloon; “Oh my gosh, that’s PERFECT! You’re a writer, and she’s the librarian! Why didn’t I think of that?” She practically dragged me to Twilight’s house. Keep in mind, it was practically the middle of the night, I was still a little bit drained from the Portal Sickness, and everypony else was asleep. Pinkie is one hundred percent, one hundred percent of the time.

Anyway, we stopped at Twilight’s house. As a person-or pony- might expect, she wasn’t pleased to be woken in the middle of the night. The door opened with a glow of purple magic, followed by an open door and a tired, purple muzzle staring out at us. If Twilight was surprised, she didn’t look it. “Is the sky falling?”

“Weeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllll”

“Don’t answer that Pinkie. Who’s with you?”

“My name is-” I tried, before Pinkie interrupted.

“His name is Thunder Chaser! Can he stay with you a while?”

Twilight looked at me, and I felt that I needed to speak, “Princess Sparkle, I would very much so be pleased if you would allow me a room, at least for tonight. Before certain pink mares drive me into the ground.”

Twilight seemed to understand, and opened the door further for me, “Alright. We can figure out the details in the morning.” She stopped Pinkie from coming in, gently telling her to go home. I could tell the Element of Laughter was reluctant to leave me, but she trailed home. As Twilight closed, I sighed and collapsed on the ground. I couldn’t walk another step if a hellhound decided it was my day to go.

I heard something that was a cross between a snort and a chuckle, “Oh boy, that’s a pretty big case of portal sickness. What’d she do, drag you through an atomic reconfiguration?”

That was how I learned the term.

“Can we just… stop talking for a bit? When the world stops spinning, that’s when we can talk.”

“You should drink something. Here, some water.” I took the water and felt a little better. I realized, at least, sleeping in the middle of the floor wasn’t a great plan. I shakily reached my hooves as Twilight went through some pre-made house guest checklist. It took her the fastest ten minutes, or fifteen seconds, I’ve ever lived through. She lead me carefully to a bed to rest in, and left me to my sleep. I was grateful, because sleep was the one thing on my mind.

My dreams were strange; my stepmom was yelling at me for some wrongdoing, and Pinkie jumped out of my phone. It scared my stepmom into dripping backwards and disappearing through a shimmer in the wall. Then Pinkie hugged me, and started shaking me like a ragdoll. I changed into a pony, and she dragged me through my phone. But then we ended up back in World War II, trying to guide some intelligence agent out of hostile territory. Except it was the Agent’s birthday, so we were going to trick him into going to his own birthday party, because now it was 6 months later. Long story short, my sleep was not restful.

I guess it’s time to go flush the drugs they’re pushing at me down the toilet. If you’ll excuse me.

The Morning After

The Morning After

When I woke up, my throat was hoarse, like I had been yelling. Twilight was standing next to the bed, along with a rather put-off Spike. I wish Spike would’ve spoken first.

“So, who’s this Deliah? Rather strange name.”

“She’s my, uh.. stepmom. It’s complicated,” I replied, looking down. The covers were tossed, as if I’d been in a fist fight with an invisible assailant, “Lots of things in my life are complicated.” Subconsciously, I flapped my wings. The feathers felt weird, like I needed to brush them.

“New to wings? So is Twilight. It sure gave HER nightmares too.”

“Spike,” she said, in a mix of indignation and reproach, “How could he be new to wings if he’s a peg-”

“HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” cried the voice of certain pink earth-vixen. It bore into my skull like a drill. A drill that helped me figure out what the fudge was going on, why a pony might assume I was new to wings, and just how screwy my wings were. You see, I had tried to fly in my sleep. My blue-grey feathers were all over the room, and it looked as though my wings had fully molted them back over night. Judeging by the pile I was laying on anyway, because the bed was on the other side of the room. The reason the covers around me looked so distraught was because I’d gotten tangled up in them, trying to take off from my back. That also explained why I felt like I could use another three hours, and why the feather on my wings now were so crooked. I wanted to preen them, but I wanted to preen them in private.

“Umm, Twilight… can I have some, umm… privacy, please?” I managed, through my embarrassment. She seemed to understand, what with her own wings and all. I added, “I promise, we’ll talk later about… this.” She left me to smooth my ruffled feathers. One problem; Pinkie had somehow gotten inside the room without the realization of either Twilight or I. She does that sometimes; she pulls off the impossible.

“So, how you doing?”

“GAH!” I practically jumped into the ceiling, causing my strained shoulders more pain. “Pinkie, what a surprise. This is supposed to be private!” I held a wing to my chest and tried to kind of hide what I was doing. It was like she was looking at me naked, though I knew that was stupid.

“Funny,, Rainbow Dash gets the same way when she’s preening. I got you a brush! I got you lots of brushes! Wing brush, mane brush, tooth brush, coat brush- Oh! And a saddlebag, for your things. When you, uhh, get things.”

I felt like saying, ‘Dun dun dun DUN! you have gained an (item) inventory! You have place inventory on (floor),’ but I decided I liked glaring more. “Uh, thanks Pinkie. Can I get, uhh… Privacy, please?” The pink mare nodded and turned around. “Like, real privacy?”

“Okay,” she smiled and bounced upstairs. I sighed and grabbed the wing brush. It came with a note on how to use them, to my surprise. It was fairly simple: ‘Line the tongs up with the roots of your topmost feathers and stroke down. You’ll dislodge some loose feather, especially if it’s your first time, but that’s perfectly normal. These feathers only clog up your wings, making it harder to fly. Be sure to brush daily!” It was in hoofwriting I didn’t recognize at the time, but I felt that, whoever it was, they knew about me.

I took a single stroke and oh my god.It was like… if heaven were an ice cream flavor, and a single bit of it sent blasted your mind with a sense of sublime so strong you might have lost your virgin kiss to it. Like that, but… better. I can’t describe what preening feels like without talking a little dirtier than I’d like. But it was awesome. If I had wings, I’d sit here and preen and preen my feathers all day long, and I think I’d be the happiest man alive.

But, because it felt so good, at least the first time, I couldn’t do it for long before spasming on the floor. You know what, I will describe it; it’s like being tickled and massaged at the same time. There you go. Best combination you’ll feel ever. Anyway, it took me thirty minutes. For just one of my wings. But, that wing felt perfect in every way.

After I finished preening myself, I set myself to work on cleaning up my feathers. It actually wasn’t too hard because most of it wasn’t my feathered down, but was very time consuming. By the time I’d finished, it was closer to lunch than breakfast. I strode out of my room feeling beautiful and ready for the day and- I was reminded that skipping breakfast is never a good idea. As the cold dredges of hunger tore at my belly, my mood greatly depreciated into a kind of shallow, defensive grumpiness. Twilight was sitting with Pinkie at the table, and Spike writing something or other. I caught the tail end of Pinkie’s statement, “And he’s HUMAN! Can you believe it? I finally managed to SNAG ONE~”

“Pinkie,” Spike warned, “He doesn’t look to human…”

“But remember what Twilight said about crossing dimensions? Our forms can change! I watched his change when I pulled him through his laptop screen! He just looked so sad, staring there at his research paper on Renaissance medicine.”

I cleared my throat, “So then, telling people who I am ISN’T going to cause a space-time rupture?”

Twilight interjected before Pinkie could say anything, “I don’t THINK so, but I don’t know. While it hasn’t happened yet, I would keep your story to yourself. Even if it doesn’t mess with time, I’m sure you’d want your privacy. I’m going to send a letter to Celestia. Pinkie, show Thunder around. It’s Thunder, right?”

“Actually, I think I’d prefer a different name. I’ve been thinking, and Thunder Chaser doesn’t really suit me. Could you just call me… Quill, for now? As a nickname, or a pseudonym, or something?”

“Okie dokie lokie, Quilly it is!” Pinkie took my hoof and carted me off, right as I was about to grab one of the delicious looking cookies on the table. Such, I suppose, is my luck.