Fluttershy awoke bright and early. Summer was tourist season, so it was her duty to ensure everything was in tip-top shape – both for the ponies and the animals.
Once she washed and brushed, she headed for the kitchen for a hot cup of tea, ensuring she was mentally and physically presentable enough to handle any questions from the viewing public. As the kettle sounded off its whistle, she decided to chime in with a little harmony of her own, humming an idle tune as she poured the kettle’s contents into her teacup.
Stepping away for the moment, she rummaged through the cupboard, half-remembering where she’d put the teabags. Then, an odd sound caught her ear. It was faint, like a cross between a rumble and a thud. It wasn’t unusual to hear such sounds coming from a zoo, but if there was one thing she’d learned from her profession, it was better safe than sorry.
Scanning the room, she found nothing untoward about the place; no cries for help or other such signs of distress, so she resumed her search for tea.
Then the thump came again.
She paused again, racking her brain for an explanation. Angel Bunny had been known to kick in his sleep, though he usually got up long before her. One of the bears, perhaps? Their snores were loud, but she’d never heard them from the kitchen.
When the third thump came, she looked back to see the water in her teacup ripple. She could feel the vibrations now, they were getting heavier and more frequent. Then, the room darkened, as if the morning sun had just decided to say, ‘sod it,’ and go back to bed.
Now she had to know. Opening the window, she poked out her head and looked up.
Her jaw dropped.
Towering over her little cottage was a beast of unfathomable proportions. Its four-taloned feet scraped at the earth, just inches away from flattening her garden. Its scaly, fish-like skin was a sickly green and from what little she could see of its face was most frightful: a mass of wriggling, octopus-like tentacles.
“Gyaaaaargh!” The creature bellowed its gargling roar, wetter than a throat-singing sperm whale with a bad cold. So frightening was the sound, Fluttershy fainted instantly.
“Gyaaaaaaargh,” the creature said again, softer this time, slapping its face with its palm. Reaching down, the eldritch being picked up Fluttershy with its mighty claws. Pulling open the bedroom window, he tucked the yellow Pegasus as gently as a creature his size could manage.
Then, Cthulhu noticed something poking at its leg. It was a small, white bunny rabbit, fiercely trying to defend its master with no concern for its own safety.
“Gyaaaargh,” the creature hushed as it extended one claw up to its lips. Collecting Fluttershy’s teacup and bags from the kitchen, he gently placed it atop the bedside cabinet before moving Angel Bunny onto her bed. He drew the curtains slowly, taking great care not to rip the fabric – satin curtains were his favourite, and he knew from experience how easy they were to damage.
He already had a lot to explain to Twilight, and he didn’t need more.
Twilight Sparkle re-heated her tea. It wasn’t like Cthulhu to be late, as any sea-based Eldritch god needed a reliable alarm clock to awake from millennia of slumber, even if R’lyeh was just his holiday home now. She supposed he could be taking a longer route, as the fewer ponies saw him, the fewer she would have to mind wipe to prevent insanity.
According to Cthulhu, the turnover rate for insane cultists was much too high, which, after a bit of number crunching, was a statistic Twilight agreed with. That, and he had a thing for prime numbers.
Twilight had carefully organised her week around this meeting. She’d front-loaded her most pressing Princess duties alongside other, less urgent chores, giving her plenty of time to plan out the conversation topics.
Pacing about the room, she grumbled to herself. Without books to re-organise or ancient stone tablets to hide from the Cutie Mark Crusaders, she had nothing to do but make tea and wait for him. Were it not for a few mispronounced words from a dead language, Sweetie Belle would’ve been mere seconds away from needing an exorcism. She made a note to scold Cthulhu about carelessly discarding used ritual tablets.
Then, she heard it. The familiar screams of horror, the banging of hooves on her castle doors, and the choral chanting of Cthulhu’s hymn – which, contrary to popular belief, was just a long-forgotten recipe for pumpkin soup.
Running to the castle’s entrance, she cocked her ear against the heavy double doors, listening carefully for her guest.
“Gyaaaaargh,” warbled Cthulhu as he thrice knocked against the door.
“Spike!” Twilight called. “Our guest is here. Can you move the unconscious ponies into the spare room? They’ll catch a cold.”
“Where did you put the stretcher, again?” Spike called back from atop the stairs.
“Second door on the right, ground floor. Same as always. Come on, Spike, you should know this by now.”
“Ugh, Twilight! Don’t you remember? Until last month, you were Tartarus-bent on mind-wiping me. I had to hide in the ceiling, for crying out loud.”
Twilight blinked. “There’s space in the ceiling?”
Spike slapped his face with his claw. “Never mind.”
“I’m sorry about the fainting ponies, Mr Cthulhu. But I don’t think I have an invisibility spell that big enough for you. No offence.”
“Gyaaaaargh,” Cthulhu said, waving his claw in dismissal. “Gyaaaargh?”
“A ‘somebody else’s problem’ spell? Hmmm, I never considered that. I’d need it to be powerful, but it could work, hypothetically speaking.”
“Gyaaaaargh.” Cthulhu gave Twilight a thumbs up.
“So, anyway, what did you want to discuss today?”
Cthulhu tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Gyaaaaaaaaaaargh.”
“Wait, already?!” Twilight grabbed her book calendar and flipped through the pages. “I thought the next cosmic alignment was next Thursday.”
“Gyaaaargh.” Cthulhu shrugged.
“I guess I’ll need to shortlist preparations for the R’lyehn’s return. Are you sure it can’t wait any longer?”
Cthulhu said nothing, but crossed his arms and frowned.
“Look, all I’m saying is that it’s a lot of work to accommodate an exclusively aquatic species. At least the Sea Ponies can become Hippogriffs – or, well, they were Hippogriffs that became Sea Ponies but now they’re mostly Sea Ponies who can become Hippogriffs again and—"
“Gyaaaaaaaaaaaargh!”
“Yeah, you’re right, I’m rambling. Sorry. But, my point is, we can’t just flood Ponyville to accommodate one-time talks. Can’t we arrange to meet them off the coast of Manehatten, instead?”
Cthulhu scratched his chin, collecting himself for a moment before he responded. “Gyaaaaaaargh.”
“Then it’s a deal.” Twilight extended her hoof to shake Cthulhu’s claw, then pulled out a page of her diary to act as a written contract. “More tea?”
“And I’m shaying the position of the Horse—” Twilight burped. “—‘scuse me, Horse-rump Nebula will reverse the polarity of the neutron flow, not shimply increase it!”
Cthulhu was sweating. How Twilight could get drunk off tea, of all drinks, was anyone’s guess. What was in the stuff? He did think the brew tasted somewhat bitter, but then again, an Eldritch God of his size was more resistant to alcohol than the average pony.
He looked down at Spike, his eyebrows arched. It wasn’t often Old Ones begged for help from mortals, but they weren’t stupid. Even Dagon knew the last thing they wanted was a pissed-off Alicorn Princess.
Spike rolled his eyes and stood up. To his credit, the little dragon had been extremely patient with Twilight’s preaching and had unsuccessfully tried to ease her off the tea. “I’ll go check,” he said under his breath.
“I heard that!” Twilight laughed, then burped again, pouring herself another cup of now cold tea. “Thish, thish right here, is my special brew. Now, about the astronecronominomicon, or whatever itsh called…”
“G-gyaaaargh?” For the first time in a millennium, Cthulhu stuttered.
“You know what I’m shaying! Add another zero, or a thousand, and you’ll get R’lyeh to float, and fly to Ponyville, and we’ll all have the biiiiiggest party and maybe I’ll become an elder god – ha! Wouldn’t that be nishe?”
“Gyaaaaaaargh.”
“Don’t you mock me! I’m an Alicorn prinshesh, remember?”
“Gyaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh.” Cthulhu’s voice tightened. He considered Twilight a friend,--or at least, an ally—but every creature had a limit, and he was at his. Even so, he did his best to remain polite while still being firm.
“Lishen, you’re a cool god and all, but you’re in my cashtle. You need to show me some reshpect!”
Respect? Respect?! That was it. Cthulhu had had enough. He’d tried his best to be nice, even when Twilight described the R’lyehn people as ‘hairless librarians’, whatever that meant. But this was an insult he simply couldn’t stand for.
“Gyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!” roaring, he slammed his claws down hard on the table, smashing it in two and spilling the remains of the tea.
“Now look what you’ve done!” Twilight shot to her hooves, glaring up at Cthulhu. “I hope you realish, you’re in biiiig trouble, mishter!”
“Gyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!” Cthulhu snarled, cracking his knuckles. He’d hoped to avoid violence, but it seemed it was inevitable.
Too late did he realise what a mistake that was.
Twilight’s horn flared, her eyes glazing over with magical light. Before he knew what was happening, she fired, and in a flash, Cthulhu was gone.
“Aha! I’ve found the problem!” Spike called as he raced back from the kitchen. “See, Twilight, Derpy did get the brew delivery mixed up during the whole interdimensional-Orangutan fiasco. This alcoholic tea was meant for Rainbow Dash, and—”
He paused, staring at the scorched crater where an Elder God had once been.
“Oh no. Not again.”
“I’m showwy, Spike,” Twilight said, sniffling. “I losht my temper.”
Spike sighed. “All right, Twilight, let’s get you to bed.”
Cthulhu awoke in a strange place. Strange even by Elder God standards. He was alive, but in a shimmering, purple void, populated only by the odd floating island and random objects floating this way and that.
In other words, he was home.
“Back already?” said a familiar, charismatic voice.
“Gyaaaargh,” Cthulhu sighed solemnly.
“Yeesh, talk about rough.” Patting him on the back, Discord wrapped his arm around his roommate’s shoulder. “I’ll make us some coffee. You can tell me all about it when you’ve settled in, okay?”
“Gyaaaaaaaargh.”
“I know. I love you too, buddy.”
Author's Note
Thank you for indulging in this brief bit of nonsense. Every now and again, I need to write a short story where I just pick a premise and go from there. This is one of those tales, referencing a previous story of that calibre in the process.
But the real question is, do I ship Cthulhu and Discord? YOU decide! :P
