Tuesdayby mr_shimmerChaptersArrivalPlansFearsRevaluationsSelf ReflectionsActions IContextArrival“I had breakfast, the library will open in about ten minutes. And I have all my gear. Time to head out.” I mutter to myself. I then turn off the light and leave my house. I immediately have a feeling of suspense, of something important either having just happened, or being about to. I have lived in this town for all my life. I was born in this very house. I know that no matter the time of day, or the weather, this town doesn’t go silent: The birds chirp, the highway still has cars going down it, squirrels still scurry, and moose still trot about as if they own the town. But at that moment, the entire town is seemingly taking a moment of silence, out of respect. Respect the likes of which I attribute to mourning a fallen leader. I am slightly worried that I am so out of touch with the greater world. As I knew of no recent deaths that would inspire such respect. I am already isolated, as I barely know what is happening beyond my life, let alone my town. Could the state governor had died? Or maybe our congressional representative? These thoughts fly through my head, causing me to almost miss the crate in front of me. It is such a curious sight, so out of place with our trashy yard. New, it looks new. Compared to the worn path litted with dozens of forgotten projects ranging anything from car parts to furniture, it looks out of place. Then the top of the crate moved, and a little, green, unicorn head peeped out. I recognised the unicorn. It was a character from a show my big brother introduced me to. It was Lyra Heartstrings, from My Little Pony; Friendship is Magic. The only thoughts that are going through my head, is how screwed I am. I am a junior in high school, who doesn’t even have a summer job. How am I to deal with this? I still live with my brother and parents, so I don’t even have privacy. The next thought to run through my head, was a series of stories I had read off of FIMfiction, from Tatsurou, of various fictional characters finding a filly on their doorstep. Now I am thinking that of a story that I now regret having not read, My Little Dashie, and I don’t even know who wrote it. Then the crate’s lid flips open, and Lyra jump out. I instinctively catch her. The warm body causes my own to shiver a little, as I realise how cold it is out here. In this realization I almost missed her speak. “Dada cold.” Such a simple statement, which implies so much. Lyra considers me her father, and I am making her uncomfortable. She even spoke as a young girl, rather than a fully grown mare. And I am apparently her father. I bring her inside the house as I ponder that her simple statement. I am in no position to be a father. Especially a father of an speaking unicorn. I couldn’t even support myself without help. I am so screwed. Then she yawns; Such as simple action, which still implies so much. She feels at ease in this new place, with odd sounds and strange smells. And this little filly is tired. I gently sit down on the cluttered couch, in between a pile of junk and the wall. She quickly settles into my lap, and relaxes. What am I to do with her? I am not ready to be a dad. I am so very screwed. I am just an ordinary guy. Yes I am a Brony, yes I have decent grades, no I don’t really have a life. I notice that I have been idly petting Lyra, as if she was a dog that had jumped into my lap, and she was cooing. As suddenly as I had noticed my actions, Lyra started to snore, having fallen asleep in my lap. A filly that I had found on my doorstep minutes prior, was already falling asleep in my lap. My mother always claims that I have a way with small animals, but this is something all on its own. I have been focusing too much on what I can’t do. I am responsible for more than just myself. I have to think for that adorable filly on my lap, as well as for myself. What can I do? Basic needs, what will this young mare need? Food, water, shelter, and care. The basics of civilized life. And if real life turns out anything like the fanfic I’ve read, then something musical, preferably something stringed. Ugh, this is just adding stress. I need a new angle, some way of looking at all of this that won’t frustrate me. Somehow I can do this. Ok, what assets do I have? I live with my parents and brother. Therefor I do not have private home. I have a small allowance from my grandfather. So I have a minor amount of cash. I have read a bunch of ‘character finds filly’ stories on FIMfiction. Which amounts to a lot of ideas on what could happen. Wait a moment, Johny D. is going to a summer family-get-together! I could offer to house-sit for him, and give Lyra and myself some privacy. From there I have no idea. Unless I can get Johny D. to pay me to house-sit for him, I am still stuck without a summer job. I have the feeling that this filly is gonna take up all of my summer break, then some. But what about after she leaves? That is pretty much the one standard I have seen, the pony grows up, and goes home to Equestria, sometimes taking their adoptive parent(s) with them. I have a family here, I have some friends, I have a life here. I can’t just stand up, and leave this world behind. But would I live with myself if I had to let her go? What am I thinking? I at least, likely, hopefully, have weeks, if not months or even years before this becomes a real issue. Besides, as much as I hate the idea, they might not care if she is gone. Lyra could just as easily be from an alternate version of Equestria, where the world is dark and gritty. Ponies experimented on for no more reason than to further a demented genius' studies. The whole infinite alternate universe theory thing. I have no idea what version of Equestria she could even be from. She could have just fallen into a broken mirror pool, or maybe she is an alternate version of twilight, and the mirror messed up. I need to can this line of thought, or I’ll end up groaning and waking her up. PlansI never put Johny D. into my new phone’s contacts, and I forgot his number. This shouldn’t be much of a problem since I have multiple ways of contacting him online. And his phone number. The problem is that Lyra has lain herself perfectly in my lap, to prevent me from reaching my laptop without moving her. And the moment I start to move her, she starts to wake up. And I can’t bring myself to wake her up. I am so glad that I am the only one home right now. Well, with the exception of the filly in my lap. That said, she is asleep, which while is the source of my predicament, also means that there is not a witness to it. Small mercies, small mercies. Maybe I can wrap her up in a blanket, then move? It usually works on our dog. I think I can reach. Got it .Ok, now to gently wrap her up…. Now to slide my body to the left and gently lower her… Ok, I’ve got my laptop and it’s starting up. I am on the floor right in front off Lyra so that she can see where I am when she wakes up. Hopefully it will be far enough to give her a comfortable buffer, but not too far, oh no. Oh Murphy no. Do. Not. SNEEZE! Please tell… Oh no, she’s waking up. “Scuse you” she bleats and then returns to softly snoring. While I am unsure of what I expected, that was not it. Yelling, confusion, even anger, but just a everyday ‘excuse you’ being her response? I have no idea of how to handle this. I can’t even provide for myself, let alone a infant. What do I do? Wait a moment. I might have the dumbest solution possible. I need to go online and ask for help writing a fanfic. The premises being an average Joe finds a pony. It might just work. All I have to do is get online and ask for help. I wonder if this is a lot more common then I know? As far as I know, My Little Dashie is pretty much the first of the sub-genre, did the author actually come across a age reversed Rainbow Dash? Did writing up his adventures with his little girl become a form of therapy for him? Or maybe a cry for help? Is there a whole network of people who have gone through this, or are going through this? Or did people see that My Little Dashie became popular, and tried to get some of that popularity? Human social dynamics are weird. Hey look, my slow a- I need to cut down my swearing. Dang it. My slow computer has finally finished its boot-up. Now what am I going to do? I guess it is off to the MLP forums. Hopefully there is already a thread setup that will help me with my dillema. No results. Well I guess searching ‘What to do if I find a pony on my doorstep’ not having results isn’t that surprising. And no results if I switch pony with unicorn. Well, that is the extent of my research, wait I haven't tried GOOGLE yet. Still nothing helpful. I just have no idea what to do. I’m not ready for this. This isn’t some test in math, science, or even history. There is no guideline, no rubric, nothing more than a vague idea and a lot of expectations. Parenting is hard. I wasn’t even planning on dating until I was a sophomore, in college. That was only so that once I was ready to date for real, I’d know the formula. I wouldn’t actually date for real until I had a job lined up, and a price tag on a home. Not just the apartment I was planning on renting throughout collage. Then I was gonna have a serious sit down with whomever my partner was and ask about children, and our plans for that possibility. Nowhere along the way did think that a child from a different species would just show up on my doorstep. I’m quite simply lost at what to do. Its at moments like this where I am envious of religious people. They have everything figured out, even as the world crashes around them, they can smile because their god has a plan. They can close their eyes, and take a step in blind faith. I can’t do that. I need something physical, some motivation to keep pressing onward. Now I have a physical source to dig deep and show some grit, a mint green, snoring, adorable source. All I am lacking is a clear course of action. Even if I get a job, I’m still in high school; and my family will notice if I skip. I also leave her unattended whenever I leave the house. I wonder if this is how my parents felt when they we getting ready for a baby, did they get everything prepared in time? Or did they rush some last minute things once I was born? Or did they have everything perfected from my brother’s birth? Why the he- Dang it, I really swear a lot don’t I? Well to finish the thought, why am I wasting my time wondering such useless things? I need to get my head down, grit my teeth, and work my as- agian, with the swearing! Ok, according to Johnny D’s facebook account, he would be happy to let me house sit for him. At least that is what I think that emoticon means… I hope… Well, I’ve arranged for him to stop by in about an hour and a half to drop off his keys. Due to my considerably bad skills at negotiation, I have managed to broker munching rights to the fridge, but if I take anything from the cabinets, I have to replace it by the end of the month. It is a temporary fix for a few of my problems. A semi remote home for a month won’t fix anything, just buy me some time. Best case is I somehow get enough economic stability to either rent or buy a place of my own. From there my economic stability would most likely be used up trying to supply basic necessities. Food, water, during the winter, heating… DAM IT! I’m still in that downward spiral. No matter what I distract myself with, I remember how far from my life plan I am. I was gonna go into the National Guard right outta high school, to pay my way through college while getting a computer sciences degree. From that point I would specialise in one of two things; Robotics or game development. That would be about the end of my young adult life, leaving me in a position to start thinking about the fairer gender. Of course this doesn’t cover my plan if Congress actually declared war. Or someone is dumb enough to declare war on us. If that happens before I am nearing the end of my degree, then I could very well enlist. Yeah, there it is, my life plan, all laid out for you. Whomever you are. Seriously, ever since that cute filly called me Dadda, I’ve felt something odd in the back of my mind. I think I’ve been feeling you poking around back there. I honestly don’t know who, or even what you are. I don’t really care, because I am not in possession of anything that I’d consider resisting a force that can read my mind over. No memories of top secret military bases, no national secrets, nothin in my noggin. That is not to say I don’t have a plethora of embarrassing memories, or thoughts for that matter. But I can handle embarassment. At least at this stage of my life. If I do ever end up as a high class or even high end job, then collecting future blackmail while I am young, and vulnerable could be a viable plan. But it is something of a lottery, that I end up being in such a position. I end up shipped off to war, get a bad injury, return home and become a bum, and all this effort; Getting Lyra, or at least a semblance of her here, and then reading my mind: goes down the drain. Of course all of this is assuming that there actually is a entity with anything resembling malice intent reading my mind. What was it Butcher wrote about paranoia? ‘It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you’ or something like that? Well, if I am going to be harbouring what could be considered an alien, with the intention of caring for it, then I should set up some contingencies. First off, if like in a bunch of movies and what not, the government tries to to blackbag me. The standard counter would be a Mutually Assured Destruction, or M.A.D. file. Unless I do something to reset a timer, the file holding blackmail, or other information back from the public. But here is where I am gonna encounter some difficulty. Just some writing and photos of Lyra could easily be faked. With the fact that I’m going against the political machine that is the White House, I’m gonna need more than reasonable doubt. I need concrete proof. Something that could be verified everywhere. Something that I could send to a bunch of independent locations to get verified. DNA would work quite well. I’d need to store some samples allover, preferably internationally. Then I would have to set up systems to send them to various groups with a basic explanation of my situation. If I can release undeniable evidence of Lyra existence to select groups, then I might have a chance with at least getting vengeance, and care for Lyra. What surprised that I don’t think that it will get my out of my government's clutches? Assuming they stay within police, federal or otherwise, I can only be legally detained for at most three days. If the skip to the blackbaging, then I’m pretty much screwed. If the NSA picks me up and starts to use ‘enhanced interrogation techniques’ then they won’t let me go without risking too much. The moment they take away my rights to an attorney, and fair trial with a jury of my peers, I will rattle them out. Of course then the government will backpaddle and burn ties to the group ‘impersonating’ the NSA. But It won’t even get that far, as they'll drug me up, or just drop my body in the woods near my hometown. Sneak a suicide or runaway note into my room; One less loose end. That is why I hope the M.A.D. file contingency is enough of a deterrent that I never get blackbaged. FearsI couldn’t be luckier. Johnny D came by and had me drive him to the airport, meaning that he trusts me with his two thousand one Ford Explorer. Standard rules apply, keep it gassed up, don’t dent it, and clean it before he gets back. The red Explorer made getting Lyra to her new residence much easier. Of course the filly just fell asleep the moment I turned the air conditioning off. It was kinda of a cheap trick, but I honestly have no idea what I would do if she was awake. A curious filly is probably the last thing I need, as an inexperienced driver. So I did the same thing my dad would do to get me to my doctor appointments. Wait, I’m human, she’s a unicorn. The closest I would think we are would that we are both mammals... But she evolved from a completely different ecosystem. Potentially meaning that all the genetic markers scientists use for determining that classification. Or she was sent back in time for some weird reason, and and something happens to the world. Her species could then have a few of the markers, but then she could even have human DNA markers. Which of course leads to a whole new slew of potential problems. Or few less, seeing as remnants of great plagues would in theory still exist, and she would already inherited the necessary immunities. I really need to stop going off on tangents, now that I have such a adorable filly to look after. Even if they are somewhat related to potential problems she may have. I just need to focus on the here and now. I need to handle her basics. Inputs, food, water, care, and outputs. Well shit, I have no idea on how to potty train puppies, let alone sentient beings. I am in no position to be a parent. I don’t own or rent any property, I am functioning off of an allowance and what I have left over from my summer job last year. And I am single. No one to watch her if I go off to get a job, or really do anything. It was bad enough being away for at most an hour, while I dropped off Johnny D. She was so worried, the look on her face when she saw me almost made me wish for a camera. I have no idea what I’d do if I lost her. Well I do; You’d mope around for a while, and either go crazy trying to find her, or have your memory of her repressed, like I was. You’d probably go though your life feeling as if you were missing something. Eventually you’d try joining the military, to see if it can replace what you don’t even know you lost. You will throw yourself into it, just to distract yourself. Eventually you will be deployed, and as a coping mechanism start remembering the reason you’re out there. Your friends, your family, and your filly. Although she will probably appear as at most an out of place, ghostly image, you will start seeing her. Then as you get yourself some professional help, you’ll get pulled out of active duty. After being pulled from active duty, you will probably visit your hometown, and start to remember the repressed memories. You will start to remember the day you first laid eyes on her. You’re psychiatrist will take these impossible memories as a sign of your ‘condition’ worsening. From there it doesn’t end well. Of course ever since we had the stupid thought to address whatever was poking around in our head directly, you can’t hear me. Which means you just can’t think the way you did before finding Lyra. I can’t even influence your subconscious. Or is it our subconscious? Wait, here it comes again. Well, what are you going to do this time? Cold, and wet. And I am not in the recliner at Johnny's. What just happened? I think I can hear someone talking, but I can't make out the words. The tones imply that someone is reporting a failure to a superior. The slight hesitance, followed by angered reply is kinda obvious. Wait, was I blackbaged?! Do they have Lyra?! Think logically, if they had Lyra, they wouldn't need to keep me alive. Right? Well, I going to assume that they will wait until I can understand them, or speed that along, before interrogating me. And now they are taking off the hood. Oh my, it is bright out of the bag. "Mr Johnson. Can you understand me?" "Whear aim I?" Ok whatever they injected me is is still in effect. Funny I can think with all coherence. It kinda reminds me of back when I needed speech therapy. I know what I mean, I just can't say it. "Classified." Of course, where else would I be? "Where is she?" "Tha Stachew obf Liwberty iis inn Neww Yoke." As long as you are not specific, I don't have to tell you anything, mister business suit. "Where is The Unicorn?" "My Plusshi of Twlightt is uonder my bed." It sounds like my speech impediment is clearing up. "I don't have time to play games with you. Where is The Unicorn?" "I don't kneow whatt you'r talkin about." "Put him under." Hey they're putting my hood back on, and moveing my chair. OOOOO COLD! They're waterboarding me! ok, just a small taste, ten seconds, to intimidate me. To show me that insouciant behavior won't be tolerated. Now they taking off my hood again. Hopefully my full system shock will let me speak properly. "So, Mr Johnson, have figured out whom I am seeking?" "I am an Army Junior ROTC Cadet, I will conduct myself to bring credit to my family, country, school, and the Corps of cadets. I am the future of the United States of America. I do not lie cheat or steal. I am always accountable for my actions and deeds. I will always practice good citizenship and patriotism. I will improve my mind and strengthen my body. I will seek the mantle of leadership and stand prepared to uphold the construction and American way of life. May god grant me the strength to always live by this creed. You have tortured an American citizen. Yet you are not afraid of repercussions. Therefore you plan on killing me. Why should I tell you anything?" "Again." And back into the hood, then the water. Twenty five seconds again. "Anything useful to say?" "Just a question, how are you gonna do it? Write up a runaway note, dump my body in the woods near my hometown? Let the savangers get to the body to prevent any cursory examination from revealing the torture?" "Actually we weren't going to dump a body. Just place a runaway note. Now, why don't you tell me where The Unicorn is, and you will stop getting hurt." "Simple, every second you waste on me, is a second you're not actively searching for her. Another second for her to make to safety, another second for my contingency to activate. So why shouldn't I be Loyal, do my Duty as her protector, why should I Respect you, why should I stop this Selfless Service, compromise my Honor and Integrity, by giving in to pain, and not stepping up with Personal Courage?" "For one, you are tied to that chair, so you won't be stepping up to anything. Secondly, I don't have to stay here and listen to you rant. I can always assign someone beneath me to oversee your interrogation. Your not doing her any favors by prolong our search. And stop it with reciting or quoting thing, its just tacky. Put him under, thirty this time." Five... Ten... Fifteen.... Twenty... Twenty Five... Air! Is that gunfire in the background. OK, they haven't taken off my hood, and they are scurrying about. That gunfire is getting awfully close. Like it down three doors, close. Two doors. Oh I think the door to this room just exploded. A few more gunshots. Skilled, disciplined gunshots, not people going wild. Well, I'm being captured by someone else. Or detained if you're in mixed company. Well hopefully this is enough of a distraction for that cute filly to hide herself. Oh, they even have the decency to remove my ho-od. Those are American Military uniforms. I would be more specific, but I can see Army, Navy and Air Force in this room. Wait, why does that Airman have a Rainbow Dash patch? Wait, wasn't there a class at Vance Air Force Base that used them. But those are jet pilots, not boots on the ground. What the hell is going on! "Daddy," Why is Lyra in a live fire zone! "wake up." Wait, what? RevaluationsI really need to calm down. I think I need to get a coffee addiction or something. That's what parents do to handle stress, right? That and hire babysits for days they can let loose, which I can’t exactly do myself. What if Lyra got her little green snout into my coffee. A young unicorn on coffee. Pumpkin Cake was enough trouble in Baby Cakes, without added caffeine. What can I do to calm myself without risking my little filly? Okay, let’s take a break from that moron. Seriously, who has a dream about being torchered, is woken up by the subject of the interrogation; and thinks it is just stress? How will this moron survive without me? Let’s apply some logic to this situation. Shortly after an alien element entered our life, we felt something poking around our head. The next time we fall asleep, this element just happens to be in close proximity while we fall asleep to a nightmare of us being torchered for information about this alien element. Further compound this is the mental intruder I detected shortly before we fell asleep. Finally, just after the interrogation failed, whether it was from us regaining control of our dream, or from the natural progression; the alien element wakes us up. Theory, this alien, or something relating to it, was in control of that dream for a while. On the offhand that it was a relatively normal dream, let’s analyze it like a normal dream. We woke up, blackbagged. With your, and slightly mine, worries about being abducted by our own government, is somewhat understandable. And our first concern being of Lyra makes sense for our personal view on comprised assets. The moment we were blackbagged, we were comprised, the longer we can delay them, the less useful any intel we give will be. Our sarcasm is about right for our self image. As for our speech impediment, well, we will never really be over that won’t we? Our ‘tacky’ quoting could easily be reflective of our somewhat constant fear or forgetting them over the summer, which leads us to recite them under our breath whenever we take a walk. The rescue by joint American Armed forces may have been representing our indecision of where exactly to enlist. We may say National guard, but we can't choose between the guard or the reserves, let alone which one. As for Ms Dash’s mark of power insignia, well, you are a brony. All in all, it makes a very sensible dream, which in itself is it’s greatest disproof. Where is the fuzzy dream logic. Mr business suit pulling out a laser rifle, ruining away through a hidden passage, and then all black escape helicopter, shooting back at us from a hanging rope, like a cliche riddled action movie? The lack of cognition, the slightly agreeable attitudes of the extras? Where is the sudden jedi that leads the charge to rescue you? The grotesque, disproportionate monsters out to get you? Our dreams don’t make so much sense! I will outright claim it, our dream was crafted, not formed naturally. Oh look, the moron finally calmed down both himself and his filly. So what was his choice for calming down… No. No, even me, the heartless monster of the two of us sees this as a bad idea. You don’t bond with your young filly, by teaching her how to play video games with a xbox controller. While I would be fine with you teaching her weapon handling; as that is a valuable life skill, teaching a telekinetic how to play with a console is just cruel. A telekinetic, do you have any idea what this will do to her… wait, Hold that thought, I want to examine it… You deranged genius of a parent, you are letting her push herself in developing fine telekinetic skills, by introducing her to a game where that is the only way for her to play. I’d started to wonder what you were doing with your share of the brain cells. Okay, this idea of mine may end up backfiring tremendously. Lyra, after minutes of learning from me badly explain the concept of minecraft, is becoming a much more active, and engaged. As in asking me endless questions. Such as can I do this with redstone. Can I make a machine to farm, or mine for me? I am so glad I brought my laptop so that I can search the wiki, while she plays on jonny’s console; as I am not a redstone genius. But once I made her a creative world, she has occupied herself building up a village into a city. I’m embarrassed to say, even if it is just to myself, that she is the better builder. The more visually stunning constructions, and the simply elegant designs. What she can do with these pixels is just amazing. It is getting late, I should put her to bed. Uh, how am I gonna do that? Not to mention how guilty I feel for only feeding her some bread earlier, but I have no idea what would be healthy for her. On the show they eat grass, Daffodils, pretty much anything you can name with apples, and potentially that many miscellaneous sweets. Although I keep coming back to the fact that I don’t know that she came the show’s universe. That adorable filly’s intestines and other organs could maybe find apples toxic, let alone the fact that pretty much any food I can get access to has been processed, and therefore likely has chemicals she hasn’t been exposed to, in them. But back to the topic, how am I going to get her to go to sleep, and where will that be? “Zz, hnggth, ZZzz.” “You could just fall asleep. That also works.” I mutter under my breath, as I carefully stand up from the recliner, and carefully move her to the now vacant seat. If I remember the game last week, Johnny keeps a blanket in here for late night games. I think he mentioned keeping it tucked underneath the couch. Ah ha, found it, and oh my, it is a nice wool blanket. And a few tucks, and now I’m all alone, in the world of the acting. I think I’ll plug in my laptop and play some violent game or another, after that dream, I know I need some stress relieve. Or I could come up with some frustrating test chamber in Portal 2. Ooh, I like how I think. But what will the theme of this one be? Co-Op lasers. The most frustrating thing in the game! Hehe. I am so evil... Author's Note Sorry folks, that was the last of what I had mapped out, any future updates are likely going to take a while longer, and quality may fail. On the other hoof, if any of you readers have suggestions, I implore you to voice them. Thank you for reading this fic, and I hope you have enjoyed it. Self ReflectionsYou ever wonder why we’re here? It’s one of life’s great mysteries isn't it? Why are we here? I mean, are we the product of some cosmic coincidence, or is there really a God watching everything? Why we found a filly, right outside of our front door? Why we haven’t suffered some accident, and ended up on life support, or six feet under? I have, a lot. The answer I found, is there isn’t some God out there with a master plan. And I do mean, capital G God. The answer I’ve found for me, is that there are a bunch of petty, squabbling, immature gods. They influence our reality on a scale we can’t even comprehend, for their own amusement. You on the other hand, will chalk it up to interdimensional chaos theories. You don’t ask why. You would ask how. It used to be different, we would ask dozens of questions on the subject, and end up with some of the craziest results. WE would ask about the belief of reincarnation, and go to bed thinking it was, and I quote from our past:”Recycling for humans.” What happened to us? That filly happened. Even if it isn’t her who separated us, we were separated because of her. Not That I really blame her, or her protector. I’m what could be seen as the scarily efficient part of our head. I’m the one who made portaling through Aperture a breeze. I’m the little kid who’s first real video games were strategy games. I’m the one who set acceptable casualties, who learned that it was inefficient to feed your troops if they couldn’t die of starvation. I’m the bad parent. It makes sense to a degree, to get rid of me. I'm the bad influence, the corrupting force, the evil father. And even if the goal wasn't to keep that filly on the strait and narrow, I'm a liability. If the goal is to keep her weak and hidden, so that she can be obtained at the drop of a hat, then it also makes sense. Keeping her away from someone who would teach her weapon handling as a bonding exercise, or something. The guy who would be ruthless in defending what he saw as his. But would such a filly prosper in such an environment? Would such a social creature handle having such an emotionally detached guy as me, as a single parent? When life gives us lemons, You make lemonAids, I make lemonGernades. I briefly neogate a supply deal with Life, and plot an offense; You request more, and hand some out. We would’ve made some lemonade, sold it at a profit, and put the money to some short term goal. I miss us, and You don’t even remember me. If I ever find the ‘Life’ that did this, well, to quote a fictional man, “Do you know who I am? I’m the man gonna BURN your house down, with the lemons!” If I ever find you, no matter who you are, I will seek vengeance. Side note, I may edit what I require as vengeance, as necessary. In case we end up like in some tacky movie where we fall in love for the (female) who caused us such suffering. I’m not gonna swear some unbreakable oath, and end up forced to do something I don’t want. How the he-, ugh, why do I swear so much? My peers always thing I am such a pure guy, when it comes up. Of course I always cuckle, but I never realised how much of a , well, not potty mouth, potty head? That just sounds dumb. But how did I end up here? Well, all things equal, there being at least one capital G, God, or one lower case g, god; having it’s way with me, is possible. But then we end encountering the peripherally atheistic part of me. WIth my loose definition of chaos. What is chaos? Chaos is unknown, or possible undefined variables creating with both known, and unknown patterns resulting in unpredicted results. All of reality as humans know it, is patterns and ratios. The fibonacci sequence, Pi, and many more yet to be defined by humans. With the existence of unknown patterns, which include unknown variables, we as human beings experience oddities, unexpected events, or as I simplify it: Chaos. Chaos is us just not knowing the entire order of the world, or possibly, worlds. Whether it be interdimensional, or just across the galaxy. Yeah, I get a bit weird sometimes. Should I blame someone for that? Nah, I’m weird, and that’s it. What was I thinking about to procrastinate trying to playtest this mess of a test chamber? Oh yeah, why am I here, doing this. I guess it boils down to a case of right/wrong place, right/wrong time. Life threw me a curveball, and now it’s up to me to handle it. It is called a curveball, right? I‘m not really into sports, so that might not be the right term. Well, what I really have is an adorable filly sized cuddle pillow stuffed full of responsibilities, and no way of really handling them. No home to provide shelter, no food to put in her mouth, no toys to spoil her. Not an item. All I have is an old xbox controller, a borrowed house, and a borrowed xbox with minecraft. Hell, I don’t even know who the local loan shark is to get cash. I even said a swear word and didn’t correct myself. Is this emotional rock bottom? Are dieing, or dead family members about to start cropping up? I need to do something, that'll make me forget all this. Well, I did just build the most frustrating Portal test chamber I could. That’ll make me nice and angry. Isn't that oxymoronic? It takes my slow laptop, on average, three minutes, twenty four seconds, to rebuild a test chamber. I make one small edit; move a light less than five feet, and I have to rebuild the test chamber to see how it looks, or works. I think my plan worked a bit too well. I am now a bit too mad. That coupled with the sever depression I was facing a forty five minutes ago, means I’m suffering mood swings. If that is true, than I cannot really trust myself around Lyra. As if I snap at her, than I would likely not forgive myself. And if I can’t trust myself, than who can I trust? I feel some pity for you. Apparently more than a bit of the evil, cruel, taskmaster, and devious designer was taken from you. Watching you build that “frustrating test chamber in Portal 2” was almost amusing. If I wasn’t screaming how to do it the right way into you ears the entire time. I might have found it funny as you try to use a skill that got cut from your character sheet. Although watching fumble was amusing, I’m glad you finally got that chamber to our standard. As for your crisis of character, been there, done that, accepted fate. Just hurry along so that we’re not doing boring things again. I’ve surpassed my quota of far thinking, and whatnot, Just go ahead and face your unmentioned fear, and take a nap. Actions IThere really isn’t much I can do, is there? I am an unemployed, teenage boy. No income, no property, and recently a lot of responsibility. I really can’t care for a filly. Why does this simple fact make me so sad? I am a human, not even her species, and I care about her? Why? Is it her cute twitches as she snores, the extra long ‘ah’ when she says daddy? The extensive patience she has shown me? The simple fact that she trusts me? Is all the affection I feel for her some odd conversion of my personal value of loyalty? Has that been the base motive for all my interactions with her? Does that mean that I’m approaching the whole parenting thing completely wrong? Who would I even ask for a second opinion? If I ask anyone but my parents under the gise of writing a story, they’ll wonder why I didn’t ask my parents. If I ask my parents then I run the risk of them getting too involved. And while I wouldn’t say my parents are the extreme intolerant kinda people… Well, I am not going to risk her safety. So what can I do? I man up, embrace the suck, and take a path. I need some form of income, so applying to the summer job I took last year is my best option. Become another busboy for an outdoor restaurant. It pays fairly well, and it give me an employee discount. Problem is, it’s a summer job. Or rather I got a summer job from them last year. If I am going to be caring for this adorable filly long term, a summer job won’t cut it. They do have an indoor restaurant location, that is operating year round, but jobs are a lot more sparse. Thankfully I know my school has something of a ‘work-release’ program. You get your boss to sign off on a sheet of paper work that you did work, you get out of school a bit early, and get credit for working. However getting it all set up before school starts is important. This means I need to get the job, with my employers aware of my intention to get into the work release program. Contact my school, meetup with my counselor, and get my parent to sign off. I can probably get my parents and counselor to sign off under the logic of: ‘College is expensive, I want to add some extra to the scholarships I plan of obtaining. And in case I don’t end up with them, I don’t want to be screwed over.’ Of course the hard part is getting the employers to sign off on everything. Then there is the final underlying problem. The cutest filly I have ever seen, being unattended while I’m at school, and when I’m at work. The simple thing is I don’t know anyone I’d trust to watch her. Nor can I pay anyone enough that I’d trust them. This doesn’t mean that she is a missbehaver, but she is something of a stranger to this world. I think. I’m not too sure on her origins, she may very well be much more responsible than I am. Depending on what her home was like. Well, I’m kinda damned If I do, damned If I don’t. I guess I better pull up my resume. It’s going to be a long night. Wow, the moron is finally crawling out of his own pit of despair. Of course he has a few good points, them being: A: We don’t know his filly’s origin. B: We trust anyone enough to have them babysit her. C: We lack any real income. D: No matter what we do, there is no perfect answer. Unless We end up some E-sport savant and win a massive prizepool, we will be taken away from a filly we don’t want to be left alone. The moron might be deserving of a change in title. Of course if he messes it up, then it’ll go back to moron. But if he finds a path, then he might be worth calling partner... ContextI’m a teenage boy who still lives with his parents. I’m no stranger to pulling allnighters. The day I got XCOM 2 downloaded, I was up all night, trying to keep my troops alive. When I finally shut it down and fell asleep, I had only completely lost the game twice. The next day, I was up at six PM, ready to try again. And again, and again, and so forth for nearly a month. But this night has been pretty hard, and I’ll have to keep up with this cute little thing in the morning. Of course the last time I fell asleep, I honestly felt like I was drowning… Something I am all too familiar with. Lungs aching, heart beating in absolute terror, being unable to break the surface, no matter how hard you push… Little cries of pain that you desperately try to hold onto, so that you don’t lose anymore of that precious breath. That dream was a bit too lifelike, I have no idea how I was coherent; ten seconds is a long time with borrowed breath. I don’t believe I’d do half as well in a real interrogation, let alone with torture. I’ve done as much as I can for tonight, my resume is ready, and I have informed my school of my intent, well, I sent my counselor an email. As for the resume, all it took for an update was the fact I worked for them in the past. But I’m still afraid of taking the plunge, that was a bad analogy. How does my internal thought filter not catch that stuff? My back of mind to active thoughts usually catches stuff that dumb. But the root problem is still there. I am afraid of dreaming, or rather, falling asleep. Lucid dreaming. I control my dreams… Of course the only way I’ve done that is when I wake up insanely early, crawl out of bed, stumble onto the couch, and fail to startup my laptop while I’m technically awake. Sitting there in the dark, while expecting to go off into a multitude of worlds, just to entertain myself, usually does the trick. Well, I can go into the other room, set Cortana to wake me up just after REM has started, and then I move to the couch, next to that adorable filly. REM sleep huh, you are trying to find a way to avoid the problem rather than facing it head on. I seem to remember something that you don’t, CORTANA HAS”T WOKEN US UP ONCE! You are one of two things, if you can remember that little fact. However, with all the messed up mental things going on, I’m giving you the benefit of a doubt. You may not remember the dozen times we tried using Cortana to wake us up. There is also the other explanation, that you are somewhat deliberately not remembering, as to force yourself to face your fears. Or ‘something’ is deliberately doing something like that. Of course if that is true, the question becomes of it’s motives. Does it desire to have another chance to interrogate him? Or does it have some other goal in mind? Someway to gain his trust? Maybe expose me as the foreign entity? Say that I somehow lobotomized him, and that it can help remove me from him? It does me no good to worry myself with those things, what I need to figure out, is a way to interact with the world, just watching what he does isn't that enjoyable. Maybe I can find a way to interact with this foreign entity that keeps touching this head, after all, what do I stand to lose? Wow, for once Cortana worked. That's kinda weird, suspiciously so. As in she has never worked before. So why now? Wait, there it is again, this mind is getting awfully crowded these days. What do I know about Lyra? In the show she was one of the presumably brainwashed bridesmaids. She was reasonably upset the fact that her best friend/marefriend was a secret agent. That's about it for what I've seen on the show. As for the fandom...there are deep, dark places in my mind (Yeah, I know, it's almost cosy) where I have stored some things on which I dare not dwell. Thankfully I have more than a few stories with Lyra as a character that don't fit into that particular category. Let's see, crazy Lyra, Crazy Lyra, hormonal jerk Lyra, good friend Lyra, struggling musician Lyra, secret agent Lyra, secret human Lya, potentially insane Lyra, and a few dozen romantic interests for the human of the fic. Wow, I am woefully unprepared for this. Really unprepared. Ok, the standard location of her residence is Ponyville or Manehattan. Ponyville is a place that is as rural as a town can get, and more than a bit of craziness. Disasters every Tuesday. Manticores one day, a Ursa Minor the next. Manehattan is an analogue to Manhattan. Which apart from being culturally influential, I know next to nothing about. Of course that is the mainstream representation of Ponyville, her dimension, time or whatever version she's from could be a pretty calm place. So any assumptions about her 'home life' is kinda pointless. So don't assume. Watch. Learn. Interact. Wha- Uh, I’m not at Johny’s anymore. I’m in my standard gear, boots, jeans, black trenchcoat, and school baseball cap. Okay, check surroundings. I am.. Outside. On a clear night. Without any constellations I recognize, no big or small dipper, no Cassiopeia, or Orion. Well, what else is there. No man in the moon… okay, looking downwards…I’m on a sidewalk, and apparently in a big city, with buildings as far as I can see. Those buildings look pretty much like every old picture I’ve seen of New York tenant buildings. And I can hear some lady crying. Shit. My greatest weakness, crying females. Oh look, I cussed again. This always happens, I hear some girl having a breakdown over some trivial thing, and I end up with a tear soaked shirt, and the girl walks away and forgets me. It sounds like she’s right behind that corner, oh, I never realized how big city allies echo. She’s probably just down this way. Well, she can’t be past the next turn, and what’s that smell? Wait, I passed the crying. She’s right behind me. And she isn’t a human, why didn’t I see this coming. She looks kinda familiar. Dark green coat, orange eyes, poofy mane and tail. The salty, wet trails down her face however, is what stands out the most. “Hey, what happened?” I ask gently. “He,*sniffle* he, forced me to...” she wheezes out between crying fits. “Take your time, I’m right here, I’m not going to force you to do anything.” I tell her in the softest voice I can manage. The stench, with her crying, away from anyone else, is enough to cue me in. This poor mare has suffered greatly, and since I don’t know pony anatomy, the best I can do is help her emotionally. “He, he was waiting for me!” she wailed. I nodded in understanding. If I understand correctly, then whomever did this had planned it out, this wasn’t a crime of opportunity. This mare is shaking so heavily, she must he in shock, or freezing, and the only thing I “I’m going to get a bit closer, okay?” She nods, and I step closer, and take off my trench coat. “I’m going to give you this coat, it should help you warm up.” She nods again, and I carefully lay my coat over her.”I want you to take my hand, and when it gets too much, just focus on my hand, ignore everything else, can you do that for me?” I ask of her, while holding my hand out to her. “I.. I think so..” She replies. “Okay, take a deep breath, and tell me whatever you can manage. I’m going to stay here, so take your time. I’m here for you.” Almost immediately, she tries to crush my hand. I wince, but stay quiet, thankfully she relaxes. “I was trotting home.. I had just picked up some milk for tomorrow.. He was waiting for me. He was waiting!” If years of watching Criminal Minds has taught me anything, then this is it. Bedside manner. Thank goodness for my weird pain tolerance. “He’s not here, take your time.” I softly remind her. “I was going home, and he just dragged me here…” She was abducted, was it with raw strength, flight, or magic? “I couldn’t break out, he just held me there…” magical bubble, or physical restraints? I don’t see obvious chaffing on her hooves, but what do I know about ponies? “I can barely support myself, let alone a foal…”What do I even say to that? The only thing I can, to keep here, in the now. “Just focus on my hand, squeeze it, crush it, no matter what, focus on my hand.” YOU IDIOT! How can you not notice the simplest of things? Do you feel the wind blowing that trash down the alley? No, we can’t. Before you took off our trench coat, it could be excusable. This place isn’t real. That lady isn’t real. This isn’t some magical trip to Equestria, this is some horrific dream. It has to be another attempt at whatever goal the last dream had. You don’t even see what is right in front of your face!
Arrival“I had breakfast, the library will open in about ten minutes. And I have all my gear. Time to head out.” I mutter to myself. I then turn off the light and leave my house. I immediately have a feeling of suspense, of something important either having just happened, or being about to. I have lived in this town for all my life. I was born in this very house. I know that no matter the time of day, or the weather, this town doesn’t go silent: The birds chirp, the highway still has cars going down it, squirrels still scurry, and moose still trot about as if they own the town. But at that moment, the entire town is seemingly taking a moment of silence, out of respect. Respect the likes of which I attribute to mourning a fallen leader. I am slightly worried that I am so out of touch with the greater world. As I knew of no recent deaths that would inspire such respect. I am already isolated, as I barely know what is happening beyond my life, let alone my town. Could the state governor had died? Or maybe our congressional representative? These thoughts fly through my head, causing me to almost miss the crate in front of me. It is such a curious sight, so out of place with our trashy yard. New, it looks new. Compared to the worn path litted with dozens of forgotten projects ranging anything from car parts to furniture, it looks out of place. Then the top of the crate moved, and a little, green, unicorn head peeped out. I recognised the unicorn. It was a character from a show my big brother introduced me to. It was Lyra Heartstrings, from My Little Pony; Friendship is Magic. The only thoughts that are going through my head, is how screwed I am. I am a junior in high school, who doesn’t even have a summer job. How am I to deal with this? I still live with my brother and parents, so I don’t even have privacy. The next thought to run through my head, was a series of stories I had read off of FIMfiction, from Tatsurou, of various fictional characters finding a filly on their doorstep. Now I am thinking that of a story that I now regret having not read, My Little Dashie, and I don’t even know who wrote it. Then the crate’s lid flips open, and Lyra jump out. I instinctively catch her. The warm body causes my own to shiver a little, as I realise how cold it is out here. In this realization I almost missed her speak. “Dada cold.” Such a simple statement, which implies so much. Lyra considers me her father, and I am making her uncomfortable. She even spoke as a young girl, rather than a fully grown mare. And I am apparently her father. I bring her inside the house as I ponder that her simple statement. I am in no position to be a father. Especially a father of an speaking unicorn. I couldn’t even support myself without help. I am so screwed. Then she yawns; Such as simple action, which still implies so much. She feels at ease in this new place, with odd sounds and strange smells. And this little filly is tired. I gently sit down on the cluttered couch, in between a pile of junk and the wall. She quickly settles into my lap, and relaxes. What am I to do with her? I am not ready to be a dad. I am so very screwed. I am just an ordinary guy. Yes I am a Brony, yes I have decent grades, no I don’t really have a life. I notice that I have been idly petting Lyra, as if she was a dog that had jumped into my lap, and she was cooing. As suddenly as I had noticed my actions, Lyra started to snore, having fallen asleep in my lap. A filly that I had found on my doorstep minutes prior, was already falling asleep in my lap. My mother always claims that I have a way with small animals, but this is something all on its own. I have been focusing too much on what I can’t do. I am responsible for more than just myself. I have to think for that adorable filly on my lap, as well as for myself. What can I do? Basic needs, what will this young mare need? Food, water, shelter, and care. The basics of civilized life. And if real life turns out anything like the fanfic I’ve read, then something musical, preferably something stringed. Ugh, this is just adding stress. I need a new angle, some way of looking at all of this that won’t frustrate me. Somehow I can do this. Ok, what assets do I have? I live with my parents and brother. Therefor I do not have private home. I have a small allowance from my grandfather. So I have a minor amount of cash. I have read a bunch of ‘character finds filly’ stories on FIMfiction. Which amounts to a lot of ideas on what could happen. Wait a moment, Johny D. is going to a summer family-get-together! I could offer to house-sit for him, and give Lyra and myself some privacy. From there I have no idea. Unless I can get Johny D. to pay me to house-sit for him, I am still stuck without a summer job. I have the feeling that this filly is gonna take up all of my summer break, then some. But what about after she leaves? That is pretty much the one standard I have seen, the pony grows up, and goes home to Equestria, sometimes taking their adoptive parent(s) with them. I have a family here, I have some friends, I have a life here. I can’t just stand up, and leave this world behind. But would I live with myself if I had to let her go? What am I thinking? I at least, likely, hopefully, have weeks, if not months or even years before this becomes a real issue. Besides, as much as I hate the idea, they might not care if she is gone. Lyra could just as easily be from an alternate version of Equestria, where the world is dark and gritty. Ponies experimented on for no more reason than to further a demented genius' studies. The whole infinite alternate universe theory thing. I have no idea what version of Equestria she could even be from. She could have just fallen into a broken mirror pool, or maybe she is an alternate version of twilight, and the mirror messed up. I need to can this line of thought, or I’ll end up groaning and waking her up.
PlansI never put Johny D. into my new phone’s contacts, and I forgot his number. This shouldn’t be much of a problem since I have multiple ways of contacting him online. And his phone number. The problem is that Lyra has lain herself perfectly in my lap, to prevent me from reaching my laptop without moving her. And the moment I start to move her, she starts to wake up. And I can’t bring myself to wake her up. I am so glad that I am the only one home right now. Well, with the exception of the filly in my lap. That said, she is asleep, which while is the source of my predicament, also means that there is not a witness to it. Small mercies, small mercies. Maybe I can wrap her up in a blanket, then move? It usually works on our dog. I think I can reach. Got it .Ok, now to gently wrap her up…. Now to slide my body to the left and gently lower her… Ok, I’ve got my laptop and it’s starting up. I am on the floor right in front off Lyra so that she can see where I am when she wakes up. Hopefully it will be far enough to give her a comfortable buffer, but not too far, oh no. Oh Murphy no. Do. Not. SNEEZE! Please tell… Oh no, she’s waking up. “Scuse you” she bleats and then returns to softly snoring. While I am unsure of what I expected, that was not it. Yelling, confusion, even anger, but just a everyday ‘excuse you’ being her response? I have no idea of how to handle this. I can’t even provide for myself, let alone a infant. What do I do? Wait a moment. I might have the dumbest solution possible. I need to go online and ask for help writing a fanfic. The premises being an average Joe finds a pony. It might just work. All I have to do is get online and ask for help. I wonder if this is a lot more common then I know? As far as I know, My Little Dashie is pretty much the first of the sub-genre, did the author actually come across a age reversed Rainbow Dash? Did writing up his adventures with his little girl become a form of therapy for him? Or maybe a cry for help? Is there a whole network of people who have gone through this, or are going through this? Or did people see that My Little Dashie became popular, and tried to get some of that popularity? Human social dynamics are weird. Hey look, my slow a- I need to cut down my swearing. Dang it. My slow computer has finally finished its boot-up. Now what am I going to do? I guess it is off to the MLP forums. Hopefully there is already a thread setup that will help me with my dillema. No results. Well I guess searching ‘What to do if I find a pony on my doorstep’ not having results isn’t that surprising. And no results if I switch pony with unicorn. Well, that is the extent of my research, wait I haven't tried GOOGLE yet. Still nothing helpful. I just have no idea what to do. I’m not ready for this. This isn’t some test in math, science, or even history. There is no guideline, no rubric, nothing more than a vague idea and a lot of expectations. Parenting is hard. I wasn’t even planning on dating until I was a sophomore, in college. That was only so that once I was ready to date for real, I’d know the formula. I wouldn’t actually date for real until I had a job lined up, and a price tag on a home. Not just the apartment I was planning on renting throughout collage. Then I was gonna have a serious sit down with whomever my partner was and ask about children, and our plans for that possibility. Nowhere along the way did think that a child from a different species would just show up on my doorstep. I’m quite simply lost at what to do. Its at moments like this where I am envious of religious people. They have everything figured out, even as the world crashes around them, they can smile because their god has a plan. They can close their eyes, and take a step in blind faith. I can’t do that. I need something physical, some motivation to keep pressing onward. Now I have a physical source to dig deep and show some grit, a mint green, snoring, adorable source. All I am lacking is a clear course of action. Even if I get a job, I’m still in high school; and my family will notice if I skip. I also leave her unattended whenever I leave the house. I wonder if this is how my parents felt when they we getting ready for a baby, did they get everything prepared in time? Or did they rush some last minute things once I was born? Or did they have everything perfected from my brother’s birth? Why the he- Dang it, I really swear a lot don’t I? Well to finish the thought, why am I wasting my time wondering such useless things? I need to get my head down, grit my teeth, and work my as- agian, with the swearing! Ok, according to Johnny D’s facebook account, he would be happy to let me house sit for him. At least that is what I think that emoticon means… I hope… Well, I’ve arranged for him to stop by in about an hour and a half to drop off his keys. Due to my considerably bad skills at negotiation, I have managed to broker munching rights to the fridge, but if I take anything from the cabinets, I have to replace it by the end of the month. It is a temporary fix for a few of my problems. A semi remote home for a month won’t fix anything, just buy me some time. Best case is I somehow get enough economic stability to either rent or buy a place of my own. From there my economic stability would most likely be used up trying to supply basic necessities. Food, water, during the winter, heating… DAM IT! I’m still in that downward spiral. No matter what I distract myself with, I remember how far from my life plan I am. I was gonna go into the National Guard right outta high school, to pay my way through college while getting a computer sciences degree. From that point I would specialise in one of two things; Robotics or game development. That would be about the end of my young adult life, leaving me in a position to start thinking about the fairer gender. Of course this doesn’t cover my plan if Congress actually declared war. Or someone is dumb enough to declare war on us. If that happens before I am nearing the end of my degree, then I could very well enlist. Yeah, there it is, my life plan, all laid out for you. Whomever you are. Seriously, ever since that cute filly called me Dadda, I’ve felt something odd in the back of my mind. I think I’ve been feeling you poking around back there. I honestly don’t know who, or even what you are. I don’t really care, because I am not in possession of anything that I’d consider resisting a force that can read my mind over. No memories of top secret military bases, no national secrets, nothin in my noggin. That is not to say I don’t have a plethora of embarrassing memories, or thoughts for that matter. But I can handle embarassment. At least at this stage of my life. If I do ever end up as a high class or even high end job, then collecting future blackmail while I am young, and vulnerable could be a viable plan. But it is something of a lottery, that I end up being in such a position. I end up shipped off to war, get a bad injury, return home and become a bum, and all this effort; Getting Lyra, or at least a semblance of her here, and then reading my mind: goes down the drain. Of course all of this is assuming that there actually is a entity with anything resembling malice intent reading my mind. What was it Butcher wrote about paranoia? ‘It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you’ or something like that? Well, if I am going to be harbouring what could be considered an alien, with the intention of caring for it, then I should set up some contingencies. First off, if like in a bunch of movies and what not, the government tries to to blackbag me. The standard counter would be a Mutually Assured Destruction, or M.A.D. file. Unless I do something to reset a timer, the file holding blackmail, or other information back from the public. But here is where I am gonna encounter some difficulty. Just some writing and photos of Lyra could easily be faked. With the fact that I’m going against the political machine that is the White House, I’m gonna need more than reasonable doubt. I need concrete proof. Something that could be verified everywhere. Something that I could send to a bunch of independent locations to get verified. DNA would work quite well. I’d need to store some samples allover, preferably internationally. Then I would have to set up systems to send them to various groups with a basic explanation of my situation. If I can release undeniable evidence of Lyra existence to select groups, then I might have a chance with at least getting vengeance, and care for Lyra. What surprised that I don’t think that it will get my out of my government's clutches? Assuming they stay within police, federal or otherwise, I can only be legally detained for at most three days. If the skip to the blackbaging, then I’m pretty much screwed. If the NSA picks me up and starts to use ‘enhanced interrogation techniques’ then they won’t let me go without risking too much. The moment they take away my rights to an attorney, and fair trial with a jury of my peers, I will rattle them out. Of course then the government will backpaddle and burn ties to the group ‘impersonating’ the NSA. But It won’t even get that far, as they'll drug me up, or just drop my body in the woods near my hometown. Sneak a suicide or runaway note into my room; One less loose end. That is why I hope the M.A.D. file contingency is enough of a deterrent that I never get blackbaged.
FearsI couldn’t be luckier. Johnny D came by and had me drive him to the airport, meaning that he trusts me with his two thousand one Ford Explorer. Standard rules apply, keep it gassed up, don’t dent it, and clean it before he gets back. The red Explorer made getting Lyra to her new residence much easier. Of course the filly just fell asleep the moment I turned the air conditioning off. It was kinda of a cheap trick, but I honestly have no idea what I would do if she was awake. A curious filly is probably the last thing I need, as an inexperienced driver. So I did the same thing my dad would do to get me to my doctor appointments. Wait, I’m human, she’s a unicorn. The closest I would think we are would that we are both mammals... But she evolved from a completely different ecosystem. Potentially meaning that all the genetic markers scientists use for determining that classification. Or she was sent back in time for some weird reason, and and something happens to the world. Her species could then have a few of the markers, but then she could even have human DNA markers. Which of course leads to a whole new slew of potential problems. Or few less, seeing as remnants of great plagues would in theory still exist, and she would already inherited the necessary immunities. I really need to stop going off on tangents, now that I have such a adorable filly to look after. Even if they are somewhat related to potential problems she may have. I just need to focus on the here and now. I need to handle her basics. Inputs, food, water, care, and outputs. Well shit, I have no idea on how to potty train puppies, let alone sentient beings. I am in no position to be a parent. I don’t own or rent any property, I am functioning off of an allowance and what I have left over from my summer job last year. And I am single. No one to watch her if I go off to get a job, or really do anything. It was bad enough being away for at most an hour, while I dropped off Johnny D. She was so worried, the look on her face when she saw me almost made me wish for a camera. I have no idea what I’d do if I lost her. Well I do; You’d mope around for a while, and either go crazy trying to find her, or have your memory of her repressed, like I was. You’d probably go though your life feeling as if you were missing something. Eventually you’d try joining the military, to see if it can replace what you don’t even know you lost. You will throw yourself into it, just to distract yourself. Eventually you will be deployed, and as a coping mechanism start remembering the reason you’re out there. Your friends, your family, and your filly. Although she will probably appear as at most an out of place, ghostly image, you will start seeing her. Then as you get yourself some professional help, you’ll get pulled out of active duty. After being pulled from active duty, you will probably visit your hometown, and start to remember the repressed memories. You will start to remember the day you first laid eyes on her. You’re psychiatrist will take these impossible memories as a sign of your ‘condition’ worsening. From there it doesn’t end well. Of course ever since we had the stupid thought to address whatever was poking around in our head directly, you can’t hear me. Which means you just can’t think the way you did before finding Lyra. I can’t even influence your subconscious. Or is it our subconscious? Wait, here it comes again. Well, what are you going to do this time? Cold, and wet. And I am not in the recliner at Johnny's. What just happened? I think I can hear someone talking, but I can't make out the words. The tones imply that someone is reporting a failure to a superior. The slight hesitance, followed by angered reply is kinda obvious. Wait, was I blackbaged?! Do they have Lyra?! Think logically, if they had Lyra, they wouldn't need to keep me alive. Right? Well, I going to assume that they will wait until I can understand them, or speed that along, before interrogating me. And now they are taking off the hood. Oh my, it is bright out of the bag. "Mr Johnson. Can you understand me?" "Whear aim I?" Ok whatever they injected me is is still in effect. Funny I can think with all coherence. It kinda reminds me of back when I needed speech therapy. I know what I mean, I just can't say it. "Classified." Of course, where else would I be? "Where is she?" "Tha Stachew obf Liwberty iis inn Neww Yoke." As long as you are not specific, I don't have to tell you anything, mister business suit. "Where is The Unicorn?" "My Plusshi of Twlightt is uonder my bed." It sounds like my speech impediment is clearing up. "I don't have time to play games with you. Where is The Unicorn?" "I don't kneow whatt you'r talkin about." "Put him under." Hey they're putting my hood back on, and moveing my chair. OOOOO COLD! They're waterboarding me! ok, just a small taste, ten seconds, to intimidate me. To show me that insouciant behavior won't be tolerated. Now they taking off my hood again. Hopefully my full system shock will let me speak properly. "So, Mr Johnson, have figured out whom I am seeking?" "I am an Army Junior ROTC Cadet, I will conduct myself to bring credit to my family, country, school, and the Corps of cadets. I am the future of the United States of America. I do not lie cheat or steal. I am always accountable for my actions and deeds. I will always practice good citizenship and patriotism. I will improve my mind and strengthen my body. I will seek the mantle of leadership and stand prepared to uphold the construction and American way of life. May god grant me the strength to always live by this creed. You have tortured an American citizen. Yet you are not afraid of repercussions. Therefore you plan on killing me. Why should I tell you anything?" "Again." And back into the hood, then the water. Twenty five seconds again. "Anything useful to say?" "Just a question, how are you gonna do it? Write up a runaway note, dump my body in the woods near my hometown? Let the savangers get to the body to prevent any cursory examination from revealing the torture?" "Actually we weren't going to dump a body. Just place a runaway note. Now, why don't you tell me where The Unicorn is, and you will stop getting hurt." "Simple, every second you waste on me, is a second you're not actively searching for her. Another second for her to make to safety, another second for my contingency to activate. So why shouldn't I be Loyal, do my Duty as her protector, why should I Respect you, why should I stop this Selfless Service, compromise my Honor and Integrity, by giving in to pain, and not stepping up with Personal Courage?" "For one, you are tied to that chair, so you won't be stepping up to anything. Secondly, I don't have to stay here and listen to you rant. I can always assign someone beneath me to oversee your interrogation. Your not doing her any favors by prolong our search. And stop it with reciting or quoting thing, its just tacky. Put him under, thirty this time." Five... Ten... Fifteen.... Twenty... Twenty Five... Air! Is that gunfire in the background. OK, they haven't taken off my hood, and they are scurrying about. That gunfire is getting awfully close. Like it down three doors, close. Two doors. Oh I think the door to this room just exploded. A few more gunshots. Skilled, disciplined gunshots, not people going wild. Well, I'm being captured by someone else. Or detained if you're in mixed company. Well hopefully this is enough of a distraction for that cute filly to hide herself. Oh, they even have the decency to remove my ho-od. Those are American Military uniforms. I would be more specific, but I can see Army, Navy and Air Force in this room. Wait, why does that Airman have a Rainbow Dash patch? Wait, wasn't there a class at Vance Air Force Base that used them. But those are jet pilots, not boots on the ground. What the hell is going on! "Daddy," Why is Lyra in a live fire zone! "wake up." Wait, what?
RevaluationsI really need to calm down. I think I need to get a coffee addiction or something. That's what parents do to handle stress, right? That and hire babysits for days they can let loose, which I can’t exactly do myself. What if Lyra got her little green snout into my coffee. A young unicorn on coffee. Pumpkin Cake was enough trouble in Baby Cakes, without added caffeine. What can I do to calm myself without risking my little filly? Okay, let’s take a break from that moron. Seriously, who has a dream about being torchered, is woken up by the subject of the interrogation; and thinks it is just stress? How will this moron survive without me? Let’s apply some logic to this situation. Shortly after an alien element entered our life, we felt something poking around our head. The next time we fall asleep, this element just happens to be in close proximity while we fall asleep to a nightmare of us being torchered for information about this alien element. Further compound this is the mental intruder I detected shortly before we fell asleep. Finally, just after the interrogation failed, whether it was from us regaining control of our dream, or from the natural progression; the alien element wakes us up. Theory, this alien, or something relating to it, was in control of that dream for a while. On the offhand that it was a relatively normal dream, let’s analyze it like a normal dream. We woke up, blackbagged. With your, and slightly mine, worries about being abducted by our own government, is somewhat understandable. And our first concern being of Lyra makes sense for our personal view on comprised assets. The moment we were blackbagged, we were comprised, the longer we can delay them, the less useful any intel we give will be. Our sarcasm is about right for our self image. As for our speech impediment, well, we will never really be over that won’t we? Our ‘tacky’ quoting could easily be reflective of our somewhat constant fear or forgetting them over the summer, which leads us to recite them under our breath whenever we take a walk. The rescue by joint American Armed forces may have been representing our indecision of where exactly to enlist. We may say National guard, but we can't choose between the guard or the reserves, let alone which one. As for Ms Dash’s mark of power insignia, well, you are a brony. All in all, it makes a very sensible dream, which in itself is it’s greatest disproof. Where is the fuzzy dream logic. Mr business suit pulling out a laser rifle, ruining away through a hidden passage, and then all black escape helicopter, shooting back at us from a hanging rope, like a cliche riddled action movie? The lack of cognition, the slightly agreeable attitudes of the extras? Where is the sudden jedi that leads the charge to rescue you? The grotesque, disproportionate monsters out to get you? Our dreams don’t make so much sense! I will outright claim it, our dream was crafted, not formed naturally. Oh look, the moron finally calmed down both himself and his filly. So what was his choice for calming down… No. No, even me, the heartless monster of the two of us sees this as a bad idea. You don’t bond with your young filly, by teaching her how to play video games with a xbox controller. While I would be fine with you teaching her weapon handling; as that is a valuable life skill, teaching a telekinetic how to play with a console is just cruel. A telekinetic, do you have any idea what this will do to her… wait, Hold that thought, I want to examine it… You deranged genius of a parent, you are letting her push herself in developing fine telekinetic skills, by introducing her to a game where that is the only way for her to play. I’d started to wonder what you were doing with your share of the brain cells. Okay, this idea of mine may end up backfiring tremendously. Lyra, after minutes of learning from me badly explain the concept of minecraft, is becoming a much more active, and engaged. As in asking me endless questions. Such as can I do this with redstone. Can I make a machine to farm, or mine for me? I am so glad I brought my laptop so that I can search the wiki, while she plays on jonny’s console; as I am not a redstone genius. But once I made her a creative world, she has occupied herself building up a village into a city. I’m embarrassed to say, even if it is just to myself, that she is the better builder. The more visually stunning constructions, and the simply elegant designs. What she can do with these pixels is just amazing. It is getting late, I should put her to bed. Uh, how am I gonna do that? Not to mention how guilty I feel for only feeding her some bread earlier, but I have no idea what would be healthy for her. On the show they eat grass, Daffodils, pretty much anything you can name with apples, and potentially that many miscellaneous sweets. Although I keep coming back to the fact that I don’t know that she came the show’s universe. That adorable filly’s intestines and other organs could maybe find apples toxic, let alone the fact that pretty much any food I can get access to has been processed, and therefore likely has chemicals she hasn’t been exposed to, in them. But back to the topic, how am I going to get her to go to sleep, and where will that be? “Zz, hnggth, ZZzz.” “You could just fall asleep. That also works.” I mutter under my breath, as I carefully stand up from the recliner, and carefully move her to the now vacant seat. If I remember the game last week, Johnny keeps a blanket in here for late night games. I think he mentioned keeping it tucked underneath the couch. Ah ha, found it, and oh my, it is a nice wool blanket. And a few tucks, and now I’m all alone, in the world of the acting. I think I’ll plug in my laptop and play some violent game or another, after that dream, I know I need some stress relieve. Or I could come up with some frustrating test chamber in Portal 2. Ooh, I like how I think. But what will the theme of this one be? Co-Op lasers. The most frustrating thing in the game! Hehe. I am so evil... Author's Note Sorry folks, that was the last of what I had mapped out, any future updates are likely going to take a while longer, and quality may fail. On the other hoof, if any of you readers have suggestions, I implore you to voice them. Thank you for reading this fic, and I hope you have enjoyed it.
Self ReflectionsYou ever wonder why we’re here? It’s one of life’s great mysteries isn't it? Why are we here? I mean, are we the product of some cosmic coincidence, or is there really a God watching everything? Why we found a filly, right outside of our front door? Why we haven’t suffered some accident, and ended up on life support, or six feet under? I have, a lot. The answer I found, is there isn’t some God out there with a master plan. And I do mean, capital G God. The answer I’ve found for me, is that there are a bunch of petty, squabbling, immature gods. They influence our reality on a scale we can’t even comprehend, for their own amusement. You on the other hand, will chalk it up to interdimensional chaos theories. You don’t ask why. You would ask how. It used to be different, we would ask dozens of questions on the subject, and end up with some of the craziest results. WE would ask about the belief of reincarnation, and go to bed thinking it was, and I quote from our past:”Recycling for humans.” What happened to us? That filly happened. Even if it isn’t her who separated us, we were separated because of her. Not That I really blame her, or her protector. I’m what could be seen as the scarily efficient part of our head. I’m the one who made portaling through Aperture a breeze. I’m the little kid who’s first real video games were strategy games. I’m the one who set acceptable casualties, who learned that it was inefficient to feed your troops if they couldn’t die of starvation. I’m the bad parent. It makes sense to a degree, to get rid of me. I'm the bad influence, the corrupting force, the evil father. And even if the goal wasn't to keep that filly on the strait and narrow, I'm a liability. If the goal is to keep her weak and hidden, so that she can be obtained at the drop of a hat, then it also makes sense. Keeping her away from someone who would teach her weapon handling as a bonding exercise, or something. The guy who would be ruthless in defending what he saw as his. But would such a filly prosper in such an environment? Would such a social creature handle having such an emotionally detached guy as me, as a single parent? When life gives us lemons, You make lemonAids, I make lemonGernades. I briefly neogate a supply deal with Life, and plot an offense; You request more, and hand some out. We would’ve made some lemonade, sold it at a profit, and put the money to some short term goal. I miss us, and You don’t even remember me. If I ever find the ‘Life’ that did this, well, to quote a fictional man, “Do you know who I am? I’m the man gonna BURN your house down, with the lemons!” If I ever find you, no matter who you are, I will seek vengeance. Side note, I may edit what I require as vengeance, as necessary. In case we end up like in some tacky movie where we fall in love for the (female) who caused us such suffering. I’m not gonna swear some unbreakable oath, and end up forced to do something I don’t want. How the he-, ugh, why do I swear so much? My peers always thing I am such a pure guy, when it comes up. Of course I always cuckle, but I never realised how much of a , well, not potty mouth, potty head? That just sounds dumb. But how did I end up here? Well, all things equal, there being at least one capital G, God, or one lower case g, god; having it’s way with me, is possible. But then we end encountering the peripherally atheistic part of me. WIth my loose definition of chaos. What is chaos? Chaos is unknown, or possible undefined variables creating with both known, and unknown patterns resulting in unpredicted results. All of reality as humans know it, is patterns and ratios. The fibonacci sequence, Pi, and many more yet to be defined by humans. With the existence of unknown patterns, which include unknown variables, we as human beings experience oddities, unexpected events, or as I simplify it: Chaos. Chaos is us just not knowing the entire order of the world, or possibly, worlds. Whether it be interdimensional, or just across the galaxy. Yeah, I get a bit weird sometimes. Should I blame someone for that? Nah, I’m weird, and that’s it. What was I thinking about to procrastinate trying to playtest this mess of a test chamber? Oh yeah, why am I here, doing this. I guess it boils down to a case of right/wrong place, right/wrong time. Life threw me a curveball, and now it’s up to me to handle it. It is called a curveball, right? I‘m not really into sports, so that might not be the right term. Well, what I really have is an adorable filly sized cuddle pillow stuffed full of responsibilities, and no way of really handling them. No home to provide shelter, no food to put in her mouth, no toys to spoil her. Not an item. All I have is an old xbox controller, a borrowed house, and a borrowed xbox with minecraft. Hell, I don’t even know who the local loan shark is to get cash. I even said a swear word and didn’t correct myself. Is this emotional rock bottom? Are dieing, or dead family members about to start cropping up? I need to do something, that'll make me forget all this. Well, I did just build the most frustrating Portal test chamber I could. That’ll make me nice and angry. Isn't that oxymoronic? It takes my slow laptop, on average, three minutes, twenty four seconds, to rebuild a test chamber. I make one small edit; move a light less than five feet, and I have to rebuild the test chamber to see how it looks, or works. I think my plan worked a bit too well. I am now a bit too mad. That coupled with the sever depression I was facing a forty five minutes ago, means I’m suffering mood swings. If that is true, than I cannot really trust myself around Lyra. As if I snap at her, than I would likely not forgive myself. And if I can’t trust myself, than who can I trust? I feel some pity for you. Apparently more than a bit of the evil, cruel, taskmaster, and devious designer was taken from you. Watching you build that “frustrating test chamber in Portal 2” was almost amusing. If I wasn’t screaming how to do it the right way into you ears the entire time. I might have found it funny as you try to use a skill that got cut from your character sheet. Although watching fumble was amusing, I’m glad you finally got that chamber to our standard. As for your crisis of character, been there, done that, accepted fate. Just hurry along so that we’re not doing boring things again. I’ve surpassed my quota of far thinking, and whatnot, Just go ahead and face your unmentioned fear, and take a nap.
Actions IThere really isn’t much I can do, is there? I am an unemployed, teenage boy. No income, no property, and recently a lot of responsibility. I really can’t care for a filly. Why does this simple fact make me so sad? I am a human, not even her species, and I care about her? Why? Is it her cute twitches as she snores, the extra long ‘ah’ when she says daddy? The extensive patience she has shown me? The simple fact that she trusts me? Is all the affection I feel for her some odd conversion of my personal value of loyalty? Has that been the base motive for all my interactions with her? Does that mean that I’m approaching the whole parenting thing completely wrong? Who would I even ask for a second opinion? If I ask anyone but my parents under the gise of writing a story, they’ll wonder why I didn’t ask my parents. If I ask my parents then I run the risk of them getting too involved. And while I wouldn’t say my parents are the extreme intolerant kinda people… Well, I am not going to risk her safety. So what can I do? I man up, embrace the suck, and take a path. I need some form of income, so applying to the summer job I took last year is my best option. Become another busboy for an outdoor restaurant. It pays fairly well, and it give me an employee discount. Problem is, it’s a summer job. Or rather I got a summer job from them last year. If I am going to be caring for this adorable filly long term, a summer job won’t cut it. They do have an indoor restaurant location, that is operating year round, but jobs are a lot more sparse. Thankfully I know my school has something of a ‘work-release’ program. You get your boss to sign off on a sheet of paper work that you did work, you get out of school a bit early, and get credit for working. However getting it all set up before school starts is important. This means I need to get the job, with my employers aware of my intention to get into the work release program. Contact my school, meetup with my counselor, and get my parent to sign off. I can probably get my parents and counselor to sign off under the logic of: ‘College is expensive, I want to add some extra to the scholarships I plan of obtaining. And in case I don’t end up with them, I don’t want to be screwed over.’ Of course the hard part is getting the employers to sign off on everything. Then there is the final underlying problem. The cutest filly I have ever seen, being unattended while I’m at school, and when I’m at work. The simple thing is I don’t know anyone I’d trust to watch her. Nor can I pay anyone enough that I’d trust them. This doesn’t mean that she is a missbehaver, but she is something of a stranger to this world. I think. I’m not too sure on her origins, she may very well be much more responsible than I am. Depending on what her home was like. Well, I’m kinda damned If I do, damned If I don’t. I guess I better pull up my resume. It’s going to be a long night. Wow, the moron is finally crawling out of his own pit of despair. Of course he has a few good points, them being: A: We don’t know his filly’s origin. B: We trust anyone enough to have them babysit her. C: We lack any real income. D: No matter what we do, there is no perfect answer. Unless We end up some E-sport savant and win a massive prizepool, we will be taken away from a filly we don’t want to be left alone. The moron might be deserving of a change in title. Of course if he messes it up, then it’ll go back to moron. But if he finds a path, then he might be worth calling partner...
ContextI’m a teenage boy who still lives with his parents. I’m no stranger to pulling allnighters. The day I got XCOM 2 downloaded, I was up all night, trying to keep my troops alive. When I finally shut it down and fell asleep, I had only completely lost the game twice. The next day, I was up at six PM, ready to try again. And again, and again, and so forth for nearly a month. But this night has been pretty hard, and I’ll have to keep up with this cute little thing in the morning. Of course the last time I fell asleep, I honestly felt like I was drowning… Something I am all too familiar with. Lungs aching, heart beating in absolute terror, being unable to break the surface, no matter how hard you push… Little cries of pain that you desperately try to hold onto, so that you don’t lose anymore of that precious breath. That dream was a bit too lifelike, I have no idea how I was coherent; ten seconds is a long time with borrowed breath. I don’t believe I’d do half as well in a real interrogation, let alone with torture. I’ve done as much as I can for tonight, my resume is ready, and I have informed my school of my intent, well, I sent my counselor an email. As for the resume, all it took for an update was the fact I worked for them in the past. But I’m still afraid of taking the plunge, that was a bad analogy. How does my internal thought filter not catch that stuff? My back of mind to active thoughts usually catches stuff that dumb. But the root problem is still there. I am afraid of dreaming, or rather, falling asleep. Lucid dreaming. I control my dreams… Of course the only way I’ve done that is when I wake up insanely early, crawl out of bed, stumble onto the couch, and fail to startup my laptop while I’m technically awake. Sitting there in the dark, while expecting to go off into a multitude of worlds, just to entertain myself, usually does the trick. Well, I can go into the other room, set Cortana to wake me up just after REM has started, and then I move to the couch, next to that adorable filly. REM sleep huh, you are trying to find a way to avoid the problem rather than facing it head on. I seem to remember something that you don’t, CORTANA HAS”T WOKEN US UP ONCE! You are one of two things, if you can remember that little fact. However, with all the messed up mental things going on, I’m giving you the benefit of a doubt. You may not remember the dozen times we tried using Cortana to wake us up. There is also the other explanation, that you are somewhat deliberately not remembering, as to force yourself to face your fears. Or ‘something’ is deliberately doing something like that. Of course if that is true, the question becomes of it’s motives. Does it desire to have another chance to interrogate him? Or does it have some other goal in mind? Someway to gain his trust? Maybe expose me as the foreign entity? Say that I somehow lobotomized him, and that it can help remove me from him? It does me no good to worry myself with those things, what I need to figure out, is a way to interact with the world, just watching what he does isn't that enjoyable. Maybe I can find a way to interact with this foreign entity that keeps touching this head, after all, what do I stand to lose? Wow, for once Cortana worked. That's kinda weird, suspiciously so. As in she has never worked before. So why now? Wait, there it is again, this mind is getting awfully crowded these days. What do I know about Lyra? In the show she was one of the presumably brainwashed bridesmaids. She was reasonably upset the fact that her best friend/marefriend was a secret agent. That's about it for what I've seen on the show. As for the fandom...there are deep, dark places in my mind (Yeah, I know, it's almost cosy) where I have stored some things on which I dare not dwell. Thankfully I have more than a few stories with Lyra as a character that don't fit into that particular category. Let's see, crazy Lyra, Crazy Lyra, hormonal jerk Lyra, good friend Lyra, struggling musician Lyra, secret agent Lyra, secret human Lya, potentially insane Lyra, and a few dozen romantic interests for the human of the fic. Wow, I am woefully unprepared for this. Really unprepared. Ok, the standard location of her residence is Ponyville or Manehattan. Ponyville is a place that is as rural as a town can get, and more than a bit of craziness. Disasters every Tuesday. Manticores one day, a Ursa Minor the next. Manehattan is an analogue to Manhattan. Which apart from being culturally influential, I know next to nothing about. Of course that is the mainstream representation of Ponyville, her dimension, time or whatever version she's from could be a pretty calm place. So any assumptions about her 'home life' is kinda pointless. So don't assume. Watch. Learn. Interact. Wha- Uh, I’m not at Johny’s anymore. I’m in my standard gear, boots, jeans, black trenchcoat, and school baseball cap. Okay, check surroundings. I am.. Outside. On a clear night. Without any constellations I recognize, no big or small dipper, no Cassiopeia, or Orion. Well, what else is there. No man in the moon… okay, looking downwards…I’m on a sidewalk, and apparently in a big city, with buildings as far as I can see. Those buildings look pretty much like every old picture I’ve seen of New York tenant buildings. And I can hear some lady crying. Shit. My greatest weakness, crying females. Oh look, I cussed again. This always happens, I hear some girl having a breakdown over some trivial thing, and I end up with a tear soaked shirt, and the girl walks away and forgets me. It sounds like she’s right behind that corner, oh, I never realized how big city allies echo. She’s probably just down this way. Well, she can’t be past the next turn, and what’s that smell? Wait, I passed the crying. She’s right behind me. And she isn’t a human, why didn’t I see this coming. She looks kinda familiar. Dark green coat, orange eyes, poofy mane and tail. The salty, wet trails down her face however, is what stands out the most. “Hey, what happened?” I ask gently. “He,*sniffle* he, forced me to...” she wheezes out between crying fits. “Take your time, I’m right here, I’m not going to force you to do anything.” I tell her in the softest voice I can manage. The stench, with her crying, away from anyone else, is enough to cue me in. This poor mare has suffered greatly, and since I don’t know pony anatomy, the best I can do is help her emotionally. “He, he was waiting for me!” she wailed. I nodded in understanding. If I understand correctly, then whomever did this had planned it out, this wasn’t a crime of opportunity. This mare is shaking so heavily, she must he in shock, or freezing, and the only thing I “I’m going to get a bit closer, okay?” She nods, and I step closer, and take off my trench coat. “I’m going to give you this coat, it should help you warm up.” She nods again, and I carefully lay my coat over her.”I want you to take my hand, and when it gets too much, just focus on my hand, ignore everything else, can you do that for me?” I ask of her, while holding my hand out to her. “I.. I think so..” She replies. “Okay, take a deep breath, and tell me whatever you can manage. I’m going to stay here, so take your time. I’m here for you.” Almost immediately, she tries to crush my hand. I wince, but stay quiet, thankfully she relaxes. “I was trotting home.. I had just picked up some milk for tomorrow.. He was waiting for me. He was waiting!” If years of watching Criminal Minds has taught me anything, then this is it. Bedside manner. Thank goodness for my weird pain tolerance. “He’s not here, take your time.” I softly remind her. “I was going home, and he just dragged me here…” She was abducted, was it with raw strength, flight, or magic? “I couldn’t break out, he just held me there…” magical bubble, or physical restraints? I don’t see obvious chaffing on her hooves, but what do I know about ponies? “I can barely support myself, let alone a foal…”What do I even say to that? The only thing I can, to keep here, in the now. “Just focus on my hand, squeeze it, crush it, no matter what, focus on my hand.” YOU IDIOT! How can you not notice the simplest of things? Do you feel the wind blowing that trash down the alley? No, we can’t. Before you took off our trench coat, it could be excusable. This place isn’t real. That lady isn’t real. This isn’t some magical trip to Equestria, this is some horrific dream. It has to be another attempt at whatever goal the last dream had. You don’t even see what is right in front of your face!
