Suddenly Sweetie Belleby ThiefOfPunkChaptersDawn of the First DayA New Journey... Or NotFirst ContactPillows, Princes And Pony Videos, Oh My!Two Out Of Three Ain't BadThe Next CrusadeNext Stop, New York City?Dawn of the First DaySuddenly Sweetie Belle By HarmoniousChaos Chapter 1 Dawn Of The First Day Awoken by the usual retro melody of the alarm on my phone, I roll over to face my desk. Sitting up a bit, I reach for it, but fall short and hit the bed. ‘Huh. That’s weird. Normally I reach too far,’ I shrug mentally, ‘Oh well.’ Scooting across my bed to grab the offending device, I notice something that I really should have earlier. ‘Ok, this is just too weird, I can’t feel my hands. Or feet, for that matter,’ Frowning in thought, my eyes adjust a little more to the darkness that coats my room, then grow wider in realisation, at a guess, ‘This… can’t be. I usually take up the whole bed, but now barely any.’ Franticly grabbing at the doona cover to shove it away, I’m greeted by the sight of a body I’m definitely not used to seeing from the inside. “I-Impossible,” I say, in a noticeably higher and squeakier voice than usual, “Huh? That doesn’t sound normal. I should check something.” Reaching an appendage up to my forehead quickly, I discover a few things. One, I don’t have hands anymore. Two, I have a freaking horn. And three, it hurts to hit the damn thing. “Right,” I squeak in the most serious voice I can muster with my new vocal chords, “When I fell asleep last nigh- no, earlier this morning, I was a human. Now, I’m a unicorn, and a young one too. Hmm.” The metaphorical gears in my head could probably be seen turning by anypony watching, trying their darndest to figure out what could have possibly happened. Then it hits me. “There’s been a lot of hub-bub lately about people turning into ponies. Maybe that wasn’t as farfetched as I initially thought,” I pondered, still squeaking every so often, mostly when I hit higher sounds, “And, based on the proportions of my new body,” I try standing and wandering around on my bed, falling over every few steps before I get a good crisscrossing rhythm going, “And the increased pitch and frequency of squeaks, it seems most likely that I somehow became Sweetie Belle. Only one way to be certain though.” I went to jump off my bed, but found myself caught in the sheets and smacked my muzzle on the metal frame before hitting the floor with a soft thud. “Owowowowowowowowow. That hurts a lot more than it should. Dumb bed.” I mumble, clutching my sore muzzle with a hoof, releasing soon after to check for bleeding. Lucky for me though, no nosebleed has occurred. My thoughts turn back to getting to a mirror, and, after untangling myself from the sheets, I walk right into the door of my room, getting my horn caught in it. “Oh, come on!” I squeak loudly, before pulling myself from the door and trying to find a way to open it. Normally, I’d just grab the doorknob and turn it to let myself out, but then again, being a unicorn that’s barely two feet tall isn’t what I’d count as normal. Of course, neither is most of anything to do with me, but I digress. Wait. Unicorn. I facehoof for not remembering that unicorns can do magic. Focusing on my goal, I try to grasp the door handle in my magic. A good couple of minutes pass while I try this, and yet, nothin’. Sighing loudly and giving up on that idea, I trot carefully over to my desk, wandering around the chair and pushing it towards the door. I then jumped back onto the bed, then the chair, which span as I landed. Now that I had some form of elevation to reach the doorknob, I encountered a new problem. Opening it. I tried again to use magic, but still nothing happened. I scooted closer to the edge of the chair, reached out with a hoof, and gripped the doorknob. “Yay!” I cheered as I turned the knob and pulled back on it, opening the door enough for me to be able to pry it open from the floor, before it hit the chair, the sudden impact of which sent me falling backwards. Lemme tell you something. Falling from about a metre up like that really hurts, especially if you’re a unicorn filly. But anyway, I rolled over onto my hooves, pushing up onto them and trotting over to and, barely I might add, squeezing through the door. ‘Achievement unlocked: Open doors.’ I thought, slightly depressed that something as mundane as that had become an achievement for me. Trotting excitedly into the bathroom, I encountered yet another problem. The mirror was up on top of a counter that was now at least twice my size. Sighing again, I climbed onto the edge of the bathtub, then onto the counter, where my new body could be seen in the mirror. For a start, I did in fact have a white hide. My mane and tail were also pink and light purple. To round it all off, I had massive green eyes. For the most part, I was fairly calm about this, having guessed at it while figuring out how to walk again, but there was a small part of me that wanted to scream, just for the hell of it. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” I cried out for a good twenty seconds before having to clear my throat. I did this a few more times before I ended up on the tiled floor in a fit of laughter. Yeah, it was the crazy sort of laugh, but that’s not important. Calming down a while later, my throat felt really sore from the laughing and screaming. “Ugh,” I squeaked, though it was more strained than usual, as I trotted out to the kitchen, “I need a fucking drink.” I chuckled a little more at hearing Sweetie Belle’s voice say ‘fuck’. Yes, I am childish. What of it? After struggling with getting a drink for the first time in a new body, during which I spilled soft drink on my coat, I went back to my room, carefully pressed the on button to my computer with my horn, jumped up onto the desk via my bed, picked up a pencil in my mouth so I could actually hit the keys properly and browsed the web for information. Specifically, whether or not this had happened to anypony else. Turns out, a lot of other people had turned into ponies. I found videos and Facebook accounts for Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Zecora, Rainbow Dash and Shining Armor, among others. It seemed like they were all headed to New York, though the reason why was beyond me. Making up my mind, I turned off the computer and started piling things that I might need for the journey I was about to undertake into the only bag I had that fit me anymore. For the most part, it was just some basic stuff, like my toothbrush and hairbrush, but there were some things that were less necessary, like the memory stick where I keep all of my writing work, my iPod and my custom built Magic deck. To top it off, I folded some clothes and placed them into my bag, throwing a jacket on for decency’s sake. I may be a pony now, but it felt weird to wander around naked all the time. I made to trot out the door there and then, but my conscience pulled me back, at least until I’d written a small note for my family to let them know that I was fine and that they weren’t the reason I left. Leaving the note on the kitchen table, I trotted out the back door for what felt like the last time. Before I made it to the gate, I could feel tears building in the corners of my eyes, but I couldn’t let that stop me, not when I might be needed in New York. I galloped down to the nearest bus stop and plopped myself on the seat, just as the bus was approaching. Stepping onto the bus, I could feel the people at the front staring at me, like I was some kind of alien. I guess I was now, but I didn’t think that humans would be that bothered by it. I reach into one of the bag pockets before the bus driver stops me with a cough. “There’s no need to pay. Ponies like you ride free on Fried-zucchini-day.” I thanked the bus driver before making my way to an empty seat near the back, where I could reach the buzzer to get off, and sat down, with a little help from a kindly stranger. They were probably a Brony, but with the weirdness that’s been going on lately, I doubted it ever so slightly. About ten minutes had passed on the bus, and I go off at the stop I was after. More trotting brought me to the front door of a friend’s house. She was a Brony, like myself, and probably the one person I trusted most. Knocking on the door, I could hear someone call out “Just a moment!” and some footsteps approaching the door. On the other side of the door, stood the one person I knew could help me catch up with the Elements of Harmony and, hopefully, the other Cutie Mark Crusaders. “Um,” I started, scratching the back of my head with a hoof, “Hey there Asha. I might need some help.” “Uh…buh…wah…yah…buh,” Asha sputtered, probably struggling to comprehend the situation that presented itself, “The fuck?” “I need your fucking help, damn it!” I started with an agitated sigh, but the stress of my day thus far ended it with a shout. “Sweetie Belle?” Asha queried, lagging slightly behind. “No. I’m fucking Scootaloo.” I deadpanned, not really in the mood for stupid questions. That seemed to prove to her that it was me, or she just felt like letting me in. Either way, I had barely taken three steps inside before she grabbed me and rushed to the bathroom. Turns out, she just wanted to clean me up a bit, not that I’m complaining. It was actually sort of nice, especially when she scratched behind my ears. Throughout, I kept trying to explain why I needed her help, but couldn’t get a word in edge wise and pretty much gave up. After the washing and subsequent drying, I could finally talk without being interrupted, as we sat in some chairs in the main room. “Right,” I began, “To business.” “Hang on,” She says, holding a hand out as if to stop me from talking, “How can I be sure that you’re actually Jason?” “Bleh.” I sigh, disbelieving that I still have to prove who I am and poking my tongue out while pulling a silly face. “Ok, I believe you.” “Good. Now then, I’m going to need your help.” “Lemme guess, getting to New York?” She asks knowingly. “How do you-” I started, but was cut off by a hand covering my muzzle. “It’s been in the news since Monday. How Lauren Faust and Tara Strong turned into Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, respectively, and requested that anyone turned into one of the Elements of Harmony should head to New York. A lot of ponies are headed there though, not just the Elements.” “Huh. Did not know that. Seriously, Lauren and Tara are Celestia and Luna? I thought they’d be Fausticorn and Twilight.” “Nope.” “So, what else happened?” “Eh, not much. Rainbow Dash is travelling around America. Fluttershy, Rarity, Pinkie Pie and Applejack are still on their way to New York. That sort of stuff.” “Right. Sounds interesting.” “Yeah, I know.” “So,” I start, unsure as to how to continue the topic at hand, or hoof, as it were, “Maybe I shouldn’t go to New York. But that brings up a new question; where the hell do I go?” A New Journey... Or NotChapter 2 A New Journey… Or Not. I sat in one of the many chairs that the front room contained; eating some fruit that Asha had brought me. It had been a stressful hour of brainstorming before the obvious answers came to mind. “But how am I going to catch a plane?” I squeaked, munching on a pear, “I don’t have any money.” “You could always get some money from your bank account. But there are other, more pressing, issues at hand,” Asha calls from the kitchen as she prepares her breakfast, even though she could just poke her head around the wall. “Like?” I ask, dropping the half-eaten pear back onto the table in front of me. “We have school in fifteen minutes.” Asha states dramatically, though the dramatics were unsuccessful. So it turns out I forgot we had school today. Meh. I’ll just freak out a little and then get it over with. It’ll be just fine. I mean, what could go wrong? Absolutely nothin’, that’s what. “You’d better get dressed and ready then,” I comment, entirely aware of the fact that Asha was still in her PJs. About ten minutes later, during which I channelled my inner Fluttershy and freaked out really quietly, me and Asha were walking to school, which was only about a thirty second walk, even if you’re a filly. Not much of any real note else happened in the meantime, or during the walk, but arriving at school was when everything started crashing down around me. Metaphorically. It may be important to know that after the wash I was forced into, I had brushed my mane and tail, in an attempt to get it to go the way Sweetie’s mane and tail normally go. But, as I was never very good at brushing things, even when I had hands, it ended up looking like I’d just been in a serious accident with some scissors and hair gel. Back to the point, all the people around were either talking about what they had done earlier in the week, places they’d been and people they’d met mostly, or doing what they usually do before classes start, some were playing Australian football while others were tapping away at their iPhones, until they saw me, at which point they shut up and stared incredulously. Feeling more nervous by the second from all the attention, something that wasn’t really helped by the formerly-slightly-taller-than-me brick columns having become veritable mountains thanks to my new body, I wasn’t really paying any heed to where I was going. As such, I smacked face first into another friend. “Ow,” I squeaked, rubbing my sore muzzle again, “That still really hurts.” He looked inquisitively at me for a second, before averting his gaze upwards to match Asha’s. “So,” he started, dragging out the sound, “Who’s the pony?” Asha opened her mouth to answer, but I beat her to it. “First of all, that’s unicorn to you,” I squeaked sternly, though I could hear some giggling, “Second,” I continue, putting on the sad eyes that I’ve always known to work extremely well whenever Sweetie Belle uses them, “I’m quite hurt that you don’t remember me, even if I’m in a new body.” “Damn it Jason, did you wish really hard?” He asked jokingly, obviously accepting the transformation much quicker than Asha. “No!” I squeaked loudly, “At least, I don’t think I did.” “Right,” he said, before returning his attention to a slightly miffed Asha, “So like I asked, who’s the pony?” Skipping past the boring events that happened while I was at school, which consisted of either people asking which pony I was, grabbing me in a nearly suffocating hug, though that was mostly just Jess, or ‘Dash’ as I call her, or just generally being jerks, I trotted back to Asha’s place to grab my stuff. Or at least, I was before someone started ruffling my mane. “Come on,” The someone, namely the friend I bumped into at the start of the day, Dylan, jokingly complained, “You really need to relax a bit man.” Before I could tell him to shut up, Asha picked me up and carried me away from Dylan, who now had a look on his face that could be simply described as ‘what is this, I don’t even’. “Are you really sure you want to do this?” Asha asked in an intimidating manner, though that may have just been the fact that she was much bigger than me settling in. “Do what?” I cocked my head inquisitively, genuinely unsure what she means and not just screwing with her like I usually do. “Travel all over the world, just to get some help?” Asha practically shouted, making me wince slightly. “Yes,” I squeaked solemnly, bowing my head, as if the paved footpath were suddenly very interesting. “I need to do this. I need to find where I’m needed. Now more so than ever.” I stumbled back a bit when Asha slapped me, tears forming in my eyes and the sound of Dylan running over being the only things I could register. I couldn’t do anything as Asha verbally berated me and found I couldn’t run when she went to slap me again. I could only shut my eyes and hope it would be over soon. Not feeling her hand hitting my now slightly tear-stained muzzle, I dared open an eye. What I saw was Dylan standing in front of me, his hand wrapped tightly around Asha’s wrist. He was clearly frustrated, if his stance was any indication, but I couldn’t guess whether it was directed at Asha or me. I could vaguely see Asha silently coming to terms with what she’d done, guilt and shock vying for top position while tears formed in her own eyes. Dylan saw fit to let her go then, stepping away from between us, flinching slightly as I darted behind him, cowering away from Asha. With a sigh, Dylan picked me up, placed me back on the footpath in front of Asha and returned to school, presumably to catch the bus home. Before he was too far away, he turned and pulled the sternest face he could. “Stop fighting and make up already, you two,” He said with a hint of warning in his voice, and with that left us on our own. I gasped slightly when Asha hugged me, but soon reciprocated. I could tell that she was crying because my withers were getting damp. I hate it when others cry. “Please don’t leave,” Asha said between sobs, “I don’t want you to go.” “But I have to, there just isn’t any other way,” I squeak, my own voice betraying the emotionless husk everyone see- used to see me as, “The others might need me, especially Apple Bloom and Scootaloo.” “What about me? Us? Your friends?” Asha sobbed, her tears drenching my withers, “Did you think for even a second that we might need you?” “I hate having to do this,” I squeak, breaking the hug and essentially severing the last connection that keeps me here, “I really do. But this is the only way. I’m sorry.” And then I galloped as quickly as I could away from there. Never looking back. A long and painful twenty-some odd minutes later, I made it back home. I didn’t think that I’d ever be here again, but things change. At least it puts my mind at ease, feeling the familiar gravelly driveway under my hooves. Stumbling about for a good five minutes to get the spare key from the shed so I could get inside, I found myself just not giving the slightest fuck. Where I would normally manoeuvre around the various books, cards and stuffed animals that were lying around my room, I instead trudged right over the top of them, jumping up and flopping down on my bed with an audible fwhump. “Celestia fucking damnit!” I shouted, beating my pillow with a hoof and crying my eyes out. Sure, I may have been crying whilst galloping here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t now and anyone who thinks I can’t can go fuck themselves, “Why are you so fucking stupid Jason?! Huh?!” I could hear someone opening and closing the back door, reminding me that I forgot to lock the gate and door when I got here. I didn’t hear any car approaching beforehoof, so I guess whomever it is walked here. “Hey,” A familiar voice called into my room, in a gentle tone, “D’you mind if I come in?” I sniffled slightly in response, hoping that whoever it was would have the decency to just leave me the fuck alone. I heard a thud before the person wrapped their arms around my barrel. “You left that stuff at my place. Figured you’d need it for your big adventure,” Asha continued, the sadness in her voice clear as the sky after a pegasus dealt with the clouds. I turned around and sobbed loudly into her shoulder, wrapping my fore hooves around her neck, while she just sat on my bed and held me close. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” I cried, though it was slightly muffled by my crying into her shoulder. “Shh, shh,” Asha responded soothingly, “It’s ok. It’s ok.” We sat like that for a while, before I stopped crying, rubbing the last of my tears out of my eyes with a hoof. Exhausted from the hectic day I’d had, I’d slipped out of her grasp and fallen asleep right there and then, faintly able to hear her singing ‘Hush Now, Quiet Now’. First ContactChapter 3 First Contact Walking through the barren wastelands of an unknown country, where the crumbling remains of civilization and various critters are the only things moving, and the air stinks of death and decay, I find myself back in the waking world. Or perhaps I’m dreaming. I could never tell, it always looked so real. Still looks real. The sun continues its slow descent towards the western horizon, while the moon sits in the sky, almost as if it were mocking any who look upon it. Despite this, or perhaps because of this, it gets hotter as time passes, until it overwhelms me. It seems my time has finally come. My race will die with me today. Just as I lie down, the environment suddenly fractures and shatters, to be replaced in an instant by mountains and trees. I sit up and spot a village nearby, suggesting that there is some form of civilization. Standing up, I approach the village, suddenly feeling tired from all of the walking I’ve been doing. Then I hear the sound of wolves nearby. I instinctively grab the blade strapped to my hip and unsheathe it, the ringing sound so very familiar, yet wrong somehow. Looking at the blade for a moment, I see that it is made in the shape of a key. Returning my attention to the wolves, I see that they, as well as the world around me, are gone, replaced by a glass platform. The platform depicts Sweetie Belle and me in the centre, with various faces filling the smaller circle near the top, some of which I’ve never seen before. Looking around, there are obviously other platforms, but no way to reach them. The world around me crumbles again, leaving me in a decrepit facility on an alien world, the smell of ungodly beasts filling the air, and their corpses littering the floor. I notice a door just ahead of me and, upon opening it, receive a greeting from a small horde of the beasts. Some of them try to shoot me by controlling the remains of my fallen comrades, while others just throw balls of fire at me. Carefully evading most of them and blasting the foul beasts into oblivion with my shotgun, I check my singed shoulder, only to find the world gone again. “ENOUGH!” I shout into the void, which replaces itself with Ponyville, though not like I’ve seen before on the show. There’s nopony around, most of the building are gone or on fire, and it smells of burned flesh. A beat runs through my head, urging me to go along with it, leading me to a flaming Carousel Boutique. A new beat, but still very familiar, enters my ears. It overpowers the other beat, and seems chaotic in its uniformity. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Repeating seemingly ad infinitum, never faltering, never fading. Sitting in front of where the door of the boutique would be if it were still there, I find Sweetie Belle, tapping away at the ground. I cautiously approach her, unsure if she would be scared or not, but tread on a stray twig and snap it underfoot. She stops tapping and looks up at me in one quick movement. Her eyes are wide and unblinking, like she had just escaped a mental asylum, filled with fear and hurt. “What have you done?” She asks me, her eyes still not blinking. “I-” I start, but the world is torn out from under us, replaced by a giant city, stretching as far as the eye can see in every direction. I recognize some of the buildings, and pin our current location as the plane of Ravnica, in the Boros district if the marching of soldiers is any indication of this. Shaking my head, I return my focus to Sweetie Belle, who no longer looks like something broke in her head. She is instead seated at a table, most likely part of an outdoor restaurant, eating a salad. One of the people working there usher me over to the seat opposite her, rather forcefully seat me and take my order. I look around to see that the people are staring at the two of us, though more of the stares seemed to be directed at me rather than Sweetie. “This is the last time I go to a place like this wearing this,” I say to no one in particular, gesturing with my hands to the t-shirt and tracksuit pants that are on my body, as well as the simplistic and inelegant running shoes and thick gloves that are on my hands and feet, irrespectively. Sweetie chuckles a bit at my fussing as someone returns with my order; some salmon and potato wedges. Picking up the fork and knife that sat either side of the plate, I started cutting the fish into smaller pieces. Placing one of the pieces in my mouth, Sweetie clears her throat. “So, how’s things?” She asks nervously, obviously unsure how to start a conversation with someone who has essentially taken control of your body. I attempt to maintain some form of composure while I finish the piece of potato in my mouth, before bursting into loud, hearty laughter. Part way through, I fall back in my chair and the laughter has evolved from loud and hearty to inane and of an oscillating volume. Most of the people nearby are at least a little frightened by this, if their running away screaming is any indication of this, while soldiers look on, unsure of whether or not I should be apprehended. “T-The drums, the n-never ending d-drums,” I stammer like some kind of madman, prompting a couple of the guards to restrain me, as a precaution for my hitting someone, “The c-clever girl, she f-found the drums, and the p-precious, and t-the answer. Hahahaha. W-What use is an a-answer if y-you don’t even have t-the question?” My blabbering became more nonsensical and my right eye twitched, while Sweetie remained in her seat, eyes filled with terror, “D-Don’t be a-afraid, clever g-girl. I c-can fix me. Just w-watch.” And with that, I snap my fingers and dispel the world around again, replacing it with a classroom, the one in Ponyville, if I’m right. The room is empty of ponies, except for Sweetie, who is seated at the centre desk, while I stand in front of the chalkboard. “Ahhhhhh,” I sigh contentedly, stretching and cracking various parts of my body, “That’s much better.” “Yes, now that you’ve had your fun,” I say in a stereotypically English manner, fixing the collar of my shirt. “‘Had mah fun’?” I start again, now in the also stereotyped Texas accent, pulling a Stetson out of hammerspace and dropping it on my head, “Th’ fun‘s only jus’ startin’!” “Uh… Um… I think that now isn’t really the time for this. Um… I mean, if you don’t mind,” Again, me, but as Fluttershy-esque as I can muster. Shaking my head and blowing a raspberry, I sit in the chair that is at the teacher’s desk, in front of all of the others, for optimal teaching patterns. “Now,” I start mock sternly, as if Sweetie had done something wrong, “You know what happens when you try to strike up a conversation with me, at a restaurant in the Boros district while I’m eating fish and chips, with the line ‘How’s things’.” For just the briefest of moments I thought I could smell smoke over the chalk dust that filled the room, but that was probably just residual… stuff from the… place jumping, for lack of better terms. “You aren’t crazy, are you?” Sweetie said, the connection between her brain and mouth quite loose at this point. I couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the directness she seemed to possess when she had no idea what was going on. “Well, yes and no,” I say with an air of indifference. Sweetie merely cocked her head to the side, her face easily described as reading ‘What’. “It’d take too long to explain and I doubt we have the time for it,” I state with a hint of finality, seeing as to how I’ve never been comfortable talking about myself. Hell, I even had troubles telling people my name when I was younger. And then there’s always been that other problem, but any way, I’m still talking, “But, we do have enough time for you to explain something.” “Oh, really? What?” “How come I’m wan-” Pillows, Princes And Pony Videos, Oh My!Chapter 4 Pillows, Princes And Pony Videos, Oh My! “-dering around in your body?” I ask as I wake up, though it sounds garbled because I, somehow, have a pillow in my mouth. Spitting the pillow out of my mouth, I glance around my room again, making sure everything is there. Despite the minimal amount of light that comes in through the window, I can easily see that everything is just as I left it. My parents call it a mess, but I like to think of it as organized chaos. Hearing a meow next to me startles me, but I calm down when I see it’s just Jess, the family cat. “You don’t care that I’ve changed, do you meow-cat?” I ask demeaningly, to which she only responds by walking out of the room, presumably because she wants some food. Stretching my legs, I hop up out of bed and trot into the kitchen about five seconds before my stomach rumbles. “Yeah, yeah. You’re gettin’ some food,” I say, which seems to shut it up for long enough for me to encounter more problems. All the food that I can find in the pantry and various cupboards seems like it wouldn’t be safe for ponies, or is too high for me to reach it, even when standing on a chair. The fridge doesn’t bode much better, because, while the old piece of crap has food in it that I can eat, it’s all in plastic containers that seem to be specifically designed to be impossible to open with hooves. “Celestia damnit, I just want a fucking carrot!” I shout, which helps vent some frustration, “Is that too much to ask?” In my frustration, I throw the container at the table, the impact of which opens it, much to my chagrin. Grumbling in annoyance, I trot over to the carrots and pick one up with my hoof, an action which prompts the thinking to go in high gear. ‘Why is this happening? Why to me? What have I done to deserve this? Who did this? What do they want?’ I think silently to myself, staring down at the carrot. With tears forming in my eyes, which fell onto the carrot, my hoof and the floor, I felt my entire world crash down around me. I just don’t know what’s going on anymore. It just seems like nothing makes any sense anymore. Not even something as simple as the days of the week. It’s just so fucking frustrating. I can’t handle it anymore. Shaking my head to clear away the depressing thoughts, I wipe any tears off the carrot and eat it. I don’t know if it’s me, or Sweetie becoming more present in my head, but the carrot kinda reminds me of Scoot. *yawn* Hearing that ghastly noise sends shivers up my spine, fearing what kind of beast sounds like that. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!” The beast screams, in a voice that I swear I’ve heard before, followed by a thud. Wincing slightly, I cautiously approach the location of the beast, which just happens to be my room. Pushing the door open and poking my head in, I see a unicorn stallion, lying in a mess on the floor, some of the bed sheets draped over him. Searching for some give away as to which unicorn this is, I start scanning his body with my eyes. His white coat clues me in as to who it is, as there aren’t many ponies with white coats, even on the show. Finding my eyes slowly making their way towards his flank, I shoot them across to a nearby wall. ‘Damnit brain,’ I think chidingly to myself, ‘You just had to go there, didn’t you?’ Getting no response, I sigh and turn back to the mysterious stallion, who had managed to untangle himself from the bed sheets and stand, even if it is a bit wobbly. Despite being slightly intimidated by the fact that he is quite a bit taller than I am, I notice a compass rose on his flank, though still chastising myself for looking. Averting my gaze from his flank, I notice the wide-eyed state of shock that he appears to be in. This helps me a bit, because I’m no longer so intimidated by him that I can actually approach him. “Wow,” I start giddily, bowing respectfully before continuing, “I never thought I’d get to meet Prince Blueblood.” “Harrumph,” Blueblood began regally, sticking his nose in the air, “Well, as can be seen, met him you have, small child.” “Since when did you become so full of shit?” I smirk evilly, which creeps Blueblood out, before he bursts into a fit of laughter. “Ah,” Blueblood continues, regaining his composure, “That was too much. You know I can’t handle it when you do that. How’d you figure me out, anyways?” “I didn’t,” I say nonchalantly, trotting across the room to grab my bag, slinging it over my back precariously, “Also, Asha, walking works in a criss-crossing pattern.” Returning to the kitchen with Asha/Blueblood in tow, who fell over a few times, I began making preparations for my trek across the world. Laying a map out on the table, I grabbed a pen in my mouth and started drawing circles around particular cities and drawing lines between them to have some kind of rudimentary path to follow. “Right,” I mumble around the pen, “My first stop is here,” I circle Melbourne a few more times for emphasis, “And I’d like to stop in New York,” More circles for New York, “But I reckon that it’s not much of a priority, so we can go to a whole bunch of other places first. Any questions?” “Yeah,” Asha begins, “What d’you mean by ‘we’?” “You don’t really think I’m going to leave you here on your own now that you’ve turned into a pony, do you?” I say inquisitively, spitting the pen out of my mouth. That shut her up, so I continued with the plan, outlining a small group of cities that I’d like to go to before the Big Apple. Rolling up the map, I unzip my bag and put the map in, taking out a jacket to wear. The jacket did take a bit of fiddling, but I did eventually get it on, even if I had to lie on my back and get Asha to zip it up. ‘Damn it,’ I think to nopony in particular, ‘I really need to get my brain out of the gutter.’ ‘What gutter?’ Sweetie thinks questioningly towards me, obviously unawares of the euphemism. ‘Metaphorical gutter, I’ll explain it when you’re older.’ I think back to her, before figuratively slapping a hoof to my forehead, ‘Hang on. How come I can hear you now?’ ‘I don’t know.’ Sweetie thinks in my general direction, whatever that might be. ‘Lovely. Well, I should probably stop thinking in italics now.’ I think with a hint of boredom. Guessing from the silence, Sweetie has no idea what I’m thinking about, ‘I’ll tell you all about it when we get to talk properly again,’ I continue with a sigh, ‘But for now, I think this ought to be a satisfactory change in pace, or style, whichever, it doesn’t really matter.’ Returning from the rather unusual moment of introspection, I find Asha breathing a sigh of relief, as if something terrible had just happened. Shrugging and rolling over, I sling my bag over my back, trotting with forced grace over to Asha, jumping up onto his back and wrapping my forelegs around his neck. “What do you think you’re doing back there?” Asha asks, turning his head round to face me. “Doesn’t matter,” I say, kicking him in the side, “Now, onwards! To the nearest video camera!” With a sigh and a shake of his head, Asha trotted out the back door, somehow locking it behind him, and the gate, locking it too, before accelerating into a full out gallop. I tried to wrap my hind legs around his barrel to stop myself from falling off while tightening my grip on his neck, which forced my muzzle into his crest. Looking around, I could see lots of cars zooming past along the highway, the sight of which makes me thank my lucky stars that we were on a side road. Most of the people in the cars weren’t too bothered by the sight of Sweetie Belle latched onto Prince Blueblood, who was galloping like there was no tomorrow, which, knowing Discord, was entirely possible, while others were awestruck by the sight and others still appeared to be waving to us, though those ones were few and far between and it was mostly other ponies doing the waving. Feeling Asha turn onto the highway so we could cross it, my hooves started slipping and no matter how much I tried to get them to stay, they’d just keep slipping. Hearing a loud screech, I turned to see that Asha had just been hit by a car and the impact of which had catapulted me a good fifty metres or so before I hit the ground, bouncing back up a bit, tearing some flesh and breaking bones on the road, screaming out in pain. I continued like that for a short while before I rolled to a stop, lifting a hoof to try and wipe some of the blood from my eyes. Then everything went black. Two Out Of Three Ain't BadChapter 5 Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad. Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Groaning slightly, I try to open my eyes, which proves harder than I thought it would be. Barely opening them more than a few millimetres, the light flooding in is too bright and I shut them again with haste. Better prepared for the brightness, I open my eyes again, only to see a white roof above me. Looking around, I see the walls and floor are white as well, with a door on one-side of the room and a window on the other. Part of the room is blocked by a curtain of such a shade of green that it clashed with the walls, presumably so I can have some semblance of privacy. Despite the bright lights, I can see the moon out the window, telling me that it’s night outside, which has always been oddly calming. Beep… Beep… Oh, and there’s a machine hooked upto me, which is keeping track of my heart rate and breathing. I breathe a sigh of relief knowing that those are still working. The sheer whiteness of the room isn’t much help for giving me stuff to do, as is the lack of stuff to do, so I decide to get to some maintenance. ‘Sweetie, you’re in control now,’ I think towards her before jumping out of the metaphorical driver’s seat, ‘Act natural.’ Without another word, thought or otherwise, Sweetie is back in control of her body, and I can get to some relatively important business. Examining my right foreleg, I find that it isn’t white anymore like Sweetie’s, but more of a very light pink, sort of like a cherry blossom. Lifting the leg up to my forehead, I find a horn, which doesn’t surprise me as much as Sweetie’s did. Placing my hoof back on the ground with a wibbly thud, I turn to see that my tail, and presumably mane as well, is a light blue colour, with an unusual cutie mark plastered on my flanks. ‘A quaver and a quill, huh?’ I think to myself, hoping that I’m not interrupting whatever Sweetie is doing, ‘That’s… interesting, to say the least. I guess that means my special talent has something to do with writing, or music. Heck, why not both.’ Shrugging my forelegs slightly, an action that normally would’ve broken the laws of reality, I meander out of the airport-styled terminal that is the hub between my and Sweetie’s minds and into the rolling countryside of my mind. I don’t know why it’s a rolling countryside, but my best guess would be that it sat still for a while, before getting bored. Looking to the sky, I see the sun drop suddenly from the azimuth to just above the horizon. Wandering the countryside, which has finally stopped rolling, I come upon a mountain range, at the top of which lies a moderately sized cabin. Teleporting there, because I’m not going to climb a mountain in my head, the ground around the cabin falls away, revealing a castle to which the cabin is the top of a tower. Trotting down the stairway, which leads to the castle gates, I hear Sweetie thinking something to me. ‘Jason,’ She starts, a hint of something I can’t quite put my hoof on in her tone, ‘Has anypony ever confused somepony not related to you for one of your parents?’ ‘Someone thought Blueblood was your dad, didn’t they?’ I think back to her, stopping suddenly about halfway down the stairwell. ‘Yep.’ Sweetie thought to me, the tone of her voice betraying how disturbed by that image she is (see: very). Not that I notice for long, seeing as how the image made me laugh like some sort of madmare, tumbling down the stairs. Lying at the bottom of the stairs in a mess of hooves and wings, I groan slightly, sore all over from the tumbling. I eventually try to stand, untangling myself from the pegasus that I may have accidentally grounded. I stop for a moment, taken aback by the pegasus, looking him over. His slim build, light blue coat, lighter red mane and tail and blank flank all tell me that this is the pegasus that had slipped my mind for a good fortnight or so, in the old measurement of days at least. “S-Storm Chaser?” I stammer, earning a slight groan from the named pegasus, before he opens his eyes, rolls out from under me, gets to his hooves and decides to float about half a metre in the air. “I’ve been waiting for you, mistress Scratch,” Storm states in the depressing tone that I now kinda regret giving the poor little colt, though it is cute when his voice cracks, before flying towards the castle at trotting speed, “Please, come with me.” Following Storm, I make my way into the castle, which looks more and more like Canterlot during the Grand Galloping Gala as we traverse the halls, complete with snobbish nobles. Passing hundreds of ballrooms, about half a dozen of which have some less than ‘safe for work’ stuff in there, Storm eventually lands at a door, barely tall enough for anypony to trot through, and turns to me. “The control room, mistress Scratch.” Storm says before flying away swiftly, leaving a small trail of red in his wake. Using magic to open the door, I find a dimly lit room, filled along five of its six walls, from floor to roof, with technology that is probably nonsensical, if the lightsaber hanging above the window is any indication of it. Trotting to the far wall, a computer terminal sits, waiting for somepony to press a button. Swishing my tail for the hell of it, I lift myself, using the terminal for support, up onto my hind legs. Pressing the power button on the terminal, the computer comes to life and the door behind me slams shut, which sends a shiver up my spine. Breathing heavily, I read the screen, which awaits further instruction. ENTER PASSCODE “Passcode, passcode. Damn, what was my passcode?” I think aloud quietly to myself, worried that somepony might overhear me, “Ah!” ENTER PASSCODE ************************************************************* CHECKING PASSCODE… “Come on, come on, come on, come on.” I say quietly, willing the machine to work faster. PASSCODE ACCEPTED. WELCOME. “Good, I’m in,” I cheer quietly, letting out the breath I didn’t know I was holding in. Grabbing the mouse with my right fore-hoof, I clicked around through files in an odd manner, selecting things that I didn’t think it would be best if Sweetie could see, taking into consideration that we could both view each other’s mind. As I clicked, the room took on an ethereal glow, floating up and out of the castle, continuing until the castle was little more than a speck, the world around it viewable in its entirety. With the moon shining brightly above me, I skim through all of the files, each file lighting up a different area of the world, putting the final touches on to filly-proofing my mind, lest something horrible happen. Sighing in relief as I complete my task, I turn the terminal off and fall onto my back, shutting my eyes and falling slowly back to the ground. Passing through several clouds, I land with a soft thump on the field outside the airport terminal, the blades of grass tickling my back with their weird little fingers. Giggling, I roll onto my hooves and trot back into the terminal, just as a military jet passed overhead. Inside, I find Sweetie heading back in from her side, a contented smile on her face and humming a merry tune, one that I’d heard many times beforehoof, compelling me to sing along. 'Summer has come and passed. The innocent can never last. Wake me up, when September ends!’ I sing in my ‘what-would-be-tenor-if-I-were-a-guy’ voice, which just happens to come to me most naturally. Sweetie stops humming, but the backdrop picks up exactly where she left off. ‘Like my father’s come to pass, seven years has gone so fast. Wake me up, when September ends!’ Sweetie sings, her voice melodic and easily able to capture anyponies attention. Prancing gracefully, we circle the room, gradually approaching each other. ‘Here comes the rain again, falling from the stars. Drenched in my pain again, becoming who we are!’ I continue, slightly disharmonious from the backdrop due to a filly-sized distraction. ‘As my memory rests, but never forgets what I lost. Wake me up when September ends!’ Sweetie finishes, half expecting me to return to the outside, at a guess. But, of course, I have other plans. ‘I’m not a fan of puppeteers, but I’ve a nagging fear, that someone else is pulling all the strings,’ I sing, forcing the backdrop, which has materialised as an orchestral group, to adapt to the new style, ‘Something terrible is going down, through the entire town, wreaking anarchy and all it brings!’ Before I can start the next verse, however, the orchestra disappears, leaving me to stumble over my words and, by extension, my legs. Using magic to stop myself from falling flat on my face, I take my leave, returning to the world beyond our minds. Waking up, I find myself being carried in the arms of somebody that I’ve never met before. Looking around worriedly, I spot Blueblood trotting along next to the stranger, his eyes lighting up slightly as he notices my nonsleepingness, which is totally a word. “Mmm,” I force out, before stretching my legs as much as I can before rubbing some of the sleep out of my eyes, “Where the fuck are we, Bluey?” The stranger dropped my out of shock when I said fuck, but Blueblood managed to catch me with his magic before I hit the ground, levitating me towards him and dropping me on his back. Fidgeting slightly to get into a comfortable position, I look around to get a better view of my surroundings. I can’t really see everything due to the large number of people rushing about, or standing there gawking at me and Bluey, but the first window I manage to get a good look out of shocked me right to that little place next to my core. What I saw was an Airbus A380. Blueblood cleared his throat and spoke calmly. “We’re in Los Angeles International Airport.” The Next CrusadeChapter 6 The Next Crusade Having regained consciousness after fainting by the sound of cars zooming past, I find myself in the backseat of a Ford, if the Ford badge on the dashboard is anything to go by, with Blueblood sitting next to me, watching over me like a mama bear, despite being my friend/some random prince dude, the distinctly different cutie mark on his side catching my eye, which could have been noticed earlier, as it was a pencil, eraser and helmet-with-a-star-on-it instead of the compass rose. “Hey,” I start, pointing a hoof towards Bluebloods alabaster flank, “How come you’ve got a different cutie mark?” “Hmm?” Blueblood, who was actually Asha at the time, queried, turning his gaze from me to each of his flanks, then back to me, “Oh, it’s nothin’, just my cutie mark on this side, while Bluebloods is one the other. It happened on Smatterday.” Somewhat satisfied with that answer, I return to my seated position, intrigued by the fact that two ponies in one body will each have separate cutie marks. ‘Hmm,’ I think, my face contorting slightly to accommodate the frown I get whenever I think relatively deeply about stuff, ‘I wonder, if Blueblood and Asha both have their cutie marks, maybe Sweetie and I do too.’ Gazing around to my right, I find no cutie mark, but the left provides a different image. There I found a quill and quaver, the cutie mark I had when I was that pink pony inside my head. Looking over it, I became more and more curious, questions bubbling to the fore-front of my mind. ‘Who is this mysterious pony? Why do I feel as if I met them a long time ago? What is the connection between us? Is it Sweetie? Is she the link? Or has she just allowed it to become manifest?’ Are a small variety of the questions running through my head, chosen because I could actually keep track of them before settling on a thought and shrugging, ‘I just don’t know.’ Sighing slightly, I turn my gaze to the world beyond the car, watching the buildings and other cars go by, the tiniest little bit bothered by the idea of driving on the right-hoof side of the road. It doesn’t take long for me to get bored, so I undo my seatbelt and rummage around the car for my backpack. Finding it in the front passenger hoofwell, I grab it with my teeth and drag it back to my spot in the back of the car, straining slightly to lift it up. Opening the bag, I pull out my jacket, which is now torn and slightly blood-stained in multiple places, mostly around the torso area, placing it on the back of the seat and my iPod, untangling the earphones from themselves with great difficulty and placing them in my ears with greater difficulty. “I thought Blueblood taught you levitation magic already?” Asha asked, concern evident in her/his voice. ‘Hey Sweetie, did Prince Jerk teach you how to levitate stuff?’ I think to Sweetie, masking it on the outside with a thoughtful look on my face and a hoof rubbing my chin after I zip up the bag. ‘Who’s Prince Jerk?’ Sweetie replies, unawares of the fine art of name-calling. ‘Blueblood,’ I deadpan, though it still gets the message across to Sweetie. ‘Oh, yeah. He said that he was really frustrated with my progress though, whatever that means. Why’s he a jerk?’ Sweetie informs, slight confusion evident in her voice nearer to the end. ‘Ask your sister when we see her,’ I finalise, or, at least, I thought I did. Closing the channel, something I didn’t consciously know I could do until just then, I prepare to return to watching cars drive past, when Sweetie stopped me. ‘Wait, hang on,’ Sweetie started, obviously having noticed that one mistake I made, ‘How do you know Rarity?’ ‘Uh… Because you know her?’ I asked hopefully, blanking slightly as a minor side effect and metaphorically shitting myself. Hearing nothing but some mutterings from Sweetie in response, I return my attention outside. “Yeah,” I started, “Apparently he, or you, whichever, did.” Actually looking at the human-girl-turned-unicorn-prince, I saw that she, or he, I don’t know, I’ll figure it out at some point, was fast asleep, drained from the trek up to this point, at a guess. Overwhelmed by the cuteness of a pony sleeping, even if it is the biggest jerk in the show, I ‘d’aww’ softly, bringing myself to the driver’s attention. “I didn’t know ponies were so susceptible to the cuteness of each other.” She said, glancing in the rear-view mirror to see Blue sleeping as if he were dead to the world. “I didn’t know that either,” I say, provoking an eyebrow to be raised, “Maybe I still don’t know. After all, I’m not the original pony here,” I finish, pointing a hoof at myself. “So you’re not Sweetie Belle then?” She asked, even though it sounded rhetorical to me. “Nnope,” I say in an attempt to emulate Big Mac, even though the vocal chords I’m equipped with can’t actually hit that area, so it ends up sounding like Apple Bloom, as I throw the torn jacket on, sliding the bag onto my back next, then clambering over into the front passenger’s seat. “So how long ago did you become Sweetie?” She asks, adding a “If you don’t mind,” as an afterthought. “Depends, what date is it?” I ask, figuring it wouldn’t have been that long since Blue ‘woke up’, for lack of a more descriptive term. “The 6th,” She said provoking a look of shock from me, which was quickly pushed away. “Shit, that long already?” I start, earning myself a nod, “Well, that means Sweetie and I have been sharing her body for four or five days now.” “Oh, yeah. You’re Australian.” She said, as if that explained everything, though it did wipe a confused look from her face. “Eeyup,” I return, before remembering that I should at least try to be polite to her, especially after helping as much as she has, “By the way,” I continue extending a hoof towards her, “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Jason. What’s your name?” “Sandra.” Sandra responds, carefully shaking my hoof with her hand while keeping her eyes on the road. “A lovely name, Sandra,” I started, receiving a snort of amusement at the faux-British accent that I displayed, “Well, allow me to be the first, assuming ‘his royal highness’ hasn’t already, in the event of which, then allow me to be the second, or maybe third if ‘his majesty’s’ body-double has as well, or even fourth if Sweetie has, which seems likely, considering how long we’ve been here to thank you for helping us. We’d probably still be in Australia if it weren’t for you.” “Nah, it was nothin’. ‘An enemy of my enemy is my friend’, even if they are a pony.” Sandra says, prompting a strange look from me. “Enemy of your enemy?” I ask, the sort-of-but-not-really-hidden message passing straight over my head, a look of perterbence plaster on the front of Sweetie's head. “You’ve not heard of PAPA?” Sandra queries, or, at least, that’s how it sounded to me. “Who?” I return in a rather nice imitation of Owlowysious, if I do say so myself, which I do, so to all those people who say that I can’t, fuck ya, ya wankers. “People Against Ponies Association, or whatever the second ‘A’ is. They reckon that you ponies are at fault for all the weird shit that’s been happening lately, like the thing with calendars.” Sandra informs me, eliciting a small “Ah,” of comprehension. “So, what’re you lot called? ‘People Against People Against Ponies whatever-their-A-is whatever-your-A-is’? PAPAPAA?” I ask, which just earns me a brief chuckle from Sandra. “Nah, we call ourselves ‘The Crusaders’. Dunno why though. I mean, it’s not like we’re fighting a war, right?” Sandra answers, provoking a chuckle from me, “What? What’s so funny?” “We are the Cutie Mark Crusaders, on a quest to find out who we are,” I sing, slightly bemused by the overwhelming joy that comes from it, “And we will never stop our journey, not until we have our Cutie Marks!” Breathing a little heavier after blasting a song like that, I do a mock bow when Sandra applauds, though most of the applause is for Sweetie. I stop for a while, my train of thought carrying me to an interesting station. “If Sweetie’s here, which she is, else this conversation would definitely not be happening, then Pinkie Pie probably is too, don’tcha reckon?” I ask Sandra, who responds with a look of confusion before holding a finger up to stop me for a moment. “Speaking of the pink chaos spawn,” Sandra starts, pulling a laptop out of the bag beside her, “The prince and his femme comrade wanted me to show you both this.” Quickly jumping inside my head to bring Sweetie into the ‘drivers seat’ with me, Sandra pulls over the car before booting the laptop, accessing YouTube, and searching ‘Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy – This Is Halloween’, opening the first video that appeared. The video opened to a crowd of media men and women, throwing a barrage of questions at Pinkie and Fluttershy. Pinkie manages to quieten down the media folk by stating that she, nor the others would be answering questions at that time. She, however, then seems to be about to make some kind of wacky speech, to which the crowd become silent and the camera zooms in on Pinkie, while Sandra continues driving across the United States. The beat from ‘This Is Halloween’ starts, and Pinkie sings the first line, the camera passing over a fellow crusader for a moment. “It’s Apple Bloom!” Sweetie squeaks, pointing a hoof at her image while I privately curse myself for thinking along a particular line that I shall not divulge. The song continues like it did in ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’, but with a completely new cast; Pinkie and Apple Bloom, obviously, Fluttershy and Gilda, the latter of whom I did not see coming, a unicorn and alicorn that I’ve never seen before, and some random people, who seemed to be immersing themselves in the mood. After it finished, I immediately clicked the ‘more notes’ clickable, hoping that it might inform me as to the names of the two ponies I didn’t recognize. “Hmm, ‘Shining Armor’ and ‘Princess Cadence’. Who are you?” I mutter, having resumed sole control of my body. Googling their names, I find out that they were introduced to the show at the end of season 2, in a double episode likened to those that opened both seasons. Deciding against jumping ahead to their episodes, I open YouTube again and continue to watch the show from where I left off before all of this nonsense started. “Season 2, Episode 3. Here I come.” Next Stop, New York City?Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.
Dawn of the First DaySuddenly Sweetie Belle By HarmoniousChaos Chapter 1 Dawn Of The First Day Awoken by the usual retro melody of the alarm on my phone, I roll over to face my desk. Sitting up a bit, I reach for it, but fall short and hit the bed. ‘Huh. That’s weird. Normally I reach too far,’ I shrug mentally, ‘Oh well.’ Scooting across my bed to grab the offending device, I notice something that I really should have earlier. ‘Ok, this is just too weird, I can’t feel my hands. Or feet, for that matter,’ Frowning in thought, my eyes adjust a little more to the darkness that coats my room, then grow wider in realisation, at a guess, ‘This… can’t be. I usually take up the whole bed, but now barely any.’ Franticly grabbing at the doona cover to shove it away, I’m greeted by the sight of a body I’m definitely not used to seeing from the inside. “I-Impossible,” I say, in a noticeably higher and squeakier voice than usual, “Huh? That doesn’t sound normal. I should check something.” Reaching an appendage up to my forehead quickly, I discover a few things. One, I don’t have hands anymore. Two, I have a freaking horn. And three, it hurts to hit the damn thing. “Right,” I squeak in the most serious voice I can muster with my new vocal chords, “When I fell asleep last nigh- no, earlier this morning, I was a human. Now, I’m a unicorn, and a young one too. Hmm.” The metaphorical gears in my head could probably be seen turning by anypony watching, trying their darndest to figure out what could have possibly happened. Then it hits me. “There’s been a lot of hub-bub lately about people turning into ponies. Maybe that wasn’t as farfetched as I initially thought,” I pondered, still squeaking every so often, mostly when I hit higher sounds, “And, based on the proportions of my new body,” I try standing and wandering around on my bed, falling over every few steps before I get a good crisscrossing rhythm going, “And the increased pitch and frequency of squeaks, it seems most likely that I somehow became Sweetie Belle. Only one way to be certain though.” I went to jump off my bed, but found myself caught in the sheets and smacked my muzzle on the metal frame before hitting the floor with a soft thud. “Owowowowowowowowow. That hurts a lot more than it should. Dumb bed.” I mumble, clutching my sore muzzle with a hoof, releasing soon after to check for bleeding. Lucky for me though, no nosebleed has occurred. My thoughts turn back to getting to a mirror, and, after untangling myself from the sheets, I walk right into the door of my room, getting my horn caught in it. “Oh, come on!” I squeak loudly, before pulling myself from the door and trying to find a way to open it. Normally, I’d just grab the doorknob and turn it to let myself out, but then again, being a unicorn that’s barely two feet tall isn’t what I’d count as normal. Of course, neither is most of anything to do with me, but I digress. Wait. Unicorn. I facehoof for not remembering that unicorns can do magic. Focusing on my goal, I try to grasp the door handle in my magic. A good couple of minutes pass while I try this, and yet, nothin’. Sighing loudly and giving up on that idea, I trot carefully over to my desk, wandering around the chair and pushing it towards the door. I then jumped back onto the bed, then the chair, which span as I landed. Now that I had some form of elevation to reach the doorknob, I encountered a new problem. Opening it. I tried again to use magic, but still nothing happened. I scooted closer to the edge of the chair, reached out with a hoof, and gripped the doorknob. “Yay!” I cheered as I turned the knob and pulled back on it, opening the door enough for me to be able to pry it open from the floor, before it hit the chair, the sudden impact of which sent me falling backwards. Lemme tell you something. Falling from about a metre up like that really hurts, especially if you’re a unicorn filly. But anyway, I rolled over onto my hooves, pushing up onto them and trotting over to and, barely I might add, squeezing through the door. ‘Achievement unlocked: Open doors.’ I thought, slightly depressed that something as mundane as that had become an achievement for me. Trotting excitedly into the bathroom, I encountered yet another problem. The mirror was up on top of a counter that was now at least twice my size. Sighing again, I climbed onto the edge of the bathtub, then onto the counter, where my new body could be seen in the mirror. For a start, I did in fact have a white hide. My mane and tail were also pink and light purple. To round it all off, I had massive green eyes. For the most part, I was fairly calm about this, having guessed at it while figuring out how to walk again, but there was a small part of me that wanted to scream, just for the hell of it. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” I cried out for a good twenty seconds before having to clear my throat. I did this a few more times before I ended up on the tiled floor in a fit of laughter. Yeah, it was the crazy sort of laugh, but that’s not important. Calming down a while later, my throat felt really sore from the laughing and screaming. “Ugh,” I squeaked, though it was more strained than usual, as I trotted out to the kitchen, “I need a fucking drink.” I chuckled a little more at hearing Sweetie Belle’s voice say ‘fuck’. Yes, I am childish. What of it? After struggling with getting a drink for the first time in a new body, during which I spilled soft drink on my coat, I went back to my room, carefully pressed the on button to my computer with my horn, jumped up onto the desk via my bed, picked up a pencil in my mouth so I could actually hit the keys properly and browsed the web for information. Specifically, whether or not this had happened to anypony else. Turns out, a lot of other people had turned into ponies. I found videos and Facebook accounts for Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Zecora, Rainbow Dash and Shining Armor, among others. It seemed like they were all headed to New York, though the reason why was beyond me. Making up my mind, I turned off the computer and started piling things that I might need for the journey I was about to undertake into the only bag I had that fit me anymore. For the most part, it was just some basic stuff, like my toothbrush and hairbrush, but there were some things that were less necessary, like the memory stick where I keep all of my writing work, my iPod and my custom built Magic deck. To top it off, I folded some clothes and placed them into my bag, throwing a jacket on for decency’s sake. I may be a pony now, but it felt weird to wander around naked all the time. I made to trot out the door there and then, but my conscience pulled me back, at least until I’d written a small note for my family to let them know that I was fine and that they weren’t the reason I left. Leaving the note on the kitchen table, I trotted out the back door for what felt like the last time. Before I made it to the gate, I could feel tears building in the corners of my eyes, but I couldn’t let that stop me, not when I might be needed in New York. I galloped down to the nearest bus stop and plopped myself on the seat, just as the bus was approaching. Stepping onto the bus, I could feel the people at the front staring at me, like I was some kind of alien. I guess I was now, but I didn’t think that humans would be that bothered by it. I reach into one of the bag pockets before the bus driver stops me with a cough. “There’s no need to pay. Ponies like you ride free on Fried-zucchini-day.” I thanked the bus driver before making my way to an empty seat near the back, where I could reach the buzzer to get off, and sat down, with a little help from a kindly stranger. They were probably a Brony, but with the weirdness that’s been going on lately, I doubted it ever so slightly. About ten minutes had passed on the bus, and I go off at the stop I was after. More trotting brought me to the front door of a friend’s house. She was a Brony, like myself, and probably the one person I trusted most. Knocking on the door, I could hear someone call out “Just a moment!” and some footsteps approaching the door. On the other side of the door, stood the one person I knew could help me catch up with the Elements of Harmony and, hopefully, the other Cutie Mark Crusaders. “Um,” I started, scratching the back of my head with a hoof, “Hey there Asha. I might need some help.” “Uh…buh…wah…yah…buh,” Asha sputtered, probably struggling to comprehend the situation that presented itself, “The fuck?” “I need your fucking help, damn it!” I started with an agitated sigh, but the stress of my day thus far ended it with a shout. “Sweetie Belle?” Asha queried, lagging slightly behind. “No. I’m fucking Scootaloo.” I deadpanned, not really in the mood for stupid questions. That seemed to prove to her that it was me, or she just felt like letting me in. Either way, I had barely taken three steps inside before she grabbed me and rushed to the bathroom. Turns out, she just wanted to clean me up a bit, not that I’m complaining. It was actually sort of nice, especially when she scratched behind my ears. Throughout, I kept trying to explain why I needed her help, but couldn’t get a word in edge wise and pretty much gave up. After the washing and subsequent drying, I could finally talk without being interrupted, as we sat in some chairs in the main room. “Right,” I began, “To business.” “Hang on,” She says, holding a hand out as if to stop me from talking, “How can I be sure that you’re actually Jason?” “Bleh.” I sigh, disbelieving that I still have to prove who I am and poking my tongue out while pulling a silly face. “Ok, I believe you.” “Good. Now then, I’m going to need your help.” “Lemme guess, getting to New York?” She asks knowingly. “How do you-” I started, but was cut off by a hand covering my muzzle. “It’s been in the news since Monday. How Lauren Faust and Tara Strong turned into Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, respectively, and requested that anyone turned into one of the Elements of Harmony should head to New York. A lot of ponies are headed there though, not just the Elements.” “Huh. Did not know that. Seriously, Lauren and Tara are Celestia and Luna? I thought they’d be Fausticorn and Twilight.” “Nope.” “So, what else happened?” “Eh, not much. Rainbow Dash is travelling around America. Fluttershy, Rarity, Pinkie Pie and Applejack are still on their way to New York. That sort of stuff.” “Right. Sounds interesting.” “Yeah, I know.” “So,” I start, unsure as to how to continue the topic at hand, or hoof, as it were, “Maybe I shouldn’t go to New York. But that brings up a new question; where the hell do I go?”
A New Journey... Or NotChapter 2 A New Journey… Or Not. I sat in one of the many chairs that the front room contained; eating some fruit that Asha had brought me. It had been a stressful hour of brainstorming before the obvious answers came to mind. “But how am I going to catch a plane?” I squeaked, munching on a pear, “I don’t have any money.” “You could always get some money from your bank account. But there are other, more pressing, issues at hand,” Asha calls from the kitchen as she prepares her breakfast, even though she could just poke her head around the wall. “Like?” I ask, dropping the half-eaten pear back onto the table in front of me. “We have school in fifteen minutes.” Asha states dramatically, though the dramatics were unsuccessful. So it turns out I forgot we had school today. Meh. I’ll just freak out a little and then get it over with. It’ll be just fine. I mean, what could go wrong? Absolutely nothin’, that’s what. “You’d better get dressed and ready then,” I comment, entirely aware of the fact that Asha was still in her PJs. About ten minutes later, during which I channelled my inner Fluttershy and freaked out really quietly, me and Asha were walking to school, which was only about a thirty second walk, even if you’re a filly. Not much of any real note else happened in the meantime, or during the walk, but arriving at school was when everything started crashing down around me. Metaphorically. It may be important to know that after the wash I was forced into, I had brushed my mane and tail, in an attempt to get it to go the way Sweetie’s mane and tail normally go. But, as I was never very good at brushing things, even when I had hands, it ended up looking like I’d just been in a serious accident with some scissors and hair gel. Back to the point, all the people around were either talking about what they had done earlier in the week, places they’d been and people they’d met mostly, or doing what they usually do before classes start, some were playing Australian football while others were tapping away at their iPhones, until they saw me, at which point they shut up and stared incredulously. Feeling more nervous by the second from all the attention, something that wasn’t really helped by the formerly-slightly-taller-than-me brick columns having become veritable mountains thanks to my new body, I wasn’t really paying any heed to where I was going. As such, I smacked face first into another friend. “Ow,” I squeaked, rubbing my sore muzzle again, “That still really hurts.” He looked inquisitively at me for a second, before averting his gaze upwards to match Asha’s. “So,” he started, dragging out the sound, “Who’s the pony?” Asha opened her mouth to answer, but I beat her to it. “First of all, that’s unicorn to you,” I squeaked sternly, though I could hear some giggling, “Second,” I continue, putting on the sad eyes that I’ve always known to work extremely well whenever Sweetie Belle uses them, “I’m quite hurt that you don’t remember me, even if I’m in a new body.” “Damn it Jason, did you wish really hard?” He asked jokingly, obviously accepting the transformation much quicker than Asha. “No!” I squeaked loudly, “At least, I don’t think I did.” “Right,” he said, before returning his attention to a slightly miffed Asha, “So like I asked, who’s the pony?” Skipping past the boring events that happened while I was at school, which consisted of either people asking which pony I was, grabbing me in a nearly suffocating hug, though that was mostly just Jess, or ‘Dash’ as I call her, or just generally being jerks, I trotted back to Asha’s place to grab my stuff. Or at least, I was before someone started ruffling my mane. “Come on,” The someone, namely the friend I bumped into at the start of the day, Dylan, jokingly complained, “You really need to relax a bit man.” Before I could tell him to shut up, Asha picked me up and carried me away from Dylan, who now had a look on his face that could be simply described as ‘what is this, I don’t even’. “Are you really sure you want to do this?” Asha asked in an intimidating manner, though that may have just been the fact that she was much bigger than me settling in. “Do what?” I cocked my head inquisitively, genuinely unsure what she means and not just screwing with her like I usually do. “Travel all over the world, just to get some help?” Asha practically shouted, making me wince slightly. “Yes,” I squeaked solemnly, bowing my head, as if the paved footpath were suddenly very interesting. “I need to do this. I need to find where I’m needed. Now more so than ever.” I stumbled back a bit when Asha slapped me, tears forming in my eyes and the sound of Dylan running over being the only things I could register. I couldn’t do anything as Asha verbally berated me and found I couldn’t run when she went to slap me again. I could only shut my eyes and hope it would be over soon. Not feeling her hand hitting my now slightly tear-stained muzzle, I dared open an eye. What I saw was Dylan standing in front of me, his hand wrapped tightly around Asha’s wrist. He was clearly frustrated, if his stance was any indication, but I couldn’t guess whether it was directed at Asha or me. I could vaguely see Asha silently coming to terms with what she’d done, guilt and shock vying for top position while tears formed in her own eyes. Dylan saw fit to let her go then, stepping away from between us, flinching slightly as I darted behind him, cowering away from Asha. With a sigh, Dylan picked me up, placed me back on the footpath in front of Asha and returned to school, presumably to catch the bus home. Before he was too far away, he turned and pulled the sternest face he could. “Stop fighting and make up already, you two,” He said with a hint of warning in his voice, and with that left us on our own. I gasped slightly when Asha hugged me, but soon reciprocated. I could tell that she was crying because my withers were getting damp. I hate it when others cry. “Please don’t leave,” Asha said between sobs, “I don’t want you to go.” “But I have to, there just isn’t any other way,” I squeak, my own voice betraying the emotionless husk everyone see- used to see me as, “The others might need me, especially Apple Bloom and Scootaloo.” “What about me? Us? Your friends?” Asha sobbed, her tears drenching my withers, “Did you think for even a second that we might need you?” “I hate having to do this,” I squeak, breaking the hug and essentially severing the last connection that keeps me here, “I really do. But this is the only way. I’m sorry.” And then I galloped as quickly as I could away from there. Never looking back. A long and painful twenty-some odd minutes later, I made it back home. I didn’t think that I’d ever be here again, but things change. At least it puts my mind at ease, feeling the familiar gravelly driveway under my hooves. Stumbling about for a good five minutes to get the spare key from the shed so I could get inside, I found myself just not giving the slightest fuck. Where I would normally manoeuvre around the various books, cards and stuffed animals that were lying around my room, I instead trudged right over the top of them, jumping up and flopping down on my bed with an audible fwhump. “Celestia fucking damnit!” I shouted, beating my pillow with a hoof and crying my eyes out. Sure, I may have been crying whilst galloping here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t now and anyone who thinks I can’t can go fuck themselves, “Why are you so fucking stupid Jason?! Huh?!” I could hear someone opening and closing the back door, reminding me that I forgot to lock the gate and door when I got here. I didn’t hear any car approaching beforehoof, so I guess whomever it is walked here. “Hey,” A familiar voice called into my room, in a gentle tone, “D’you mind if I come in?” I sniffled slightly in response, hoping that whoever it was would have the decency to just leave me the fuck alone. I heard a thud before the person wrapped their arms around my barrel. “You left that stuff at my place. Figured you’d need it for your big adventure,” Asha continued, the sadness in her voice clear as the sky after a pegasus dealt with the clouds. I turned around and sobbed loudly into her shoulder, wrapping my fore hooves around her neck, while she just sat on my bed and held me close. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” I cried, though it was slightly muffled by my crying into her shoulder. “Shh, shh,” Asha responded soothingly, “It’s ok. It’s ok.” We sat like that for a while, before I stopped crying, rubbing the last of my tears out of my eyes with a hoof. Exhausted from the hectic day I’d had, I’d slipped out of her grasp and fallen asleep right there and then, faintly able to hear her singing ‘Hush Now, Quiet Now’.
First ContactChapter 3 First Contact Walking through the barren wastelands of an unknown country, where the crumbling remains of civilization and various critters are the only things moving, and the air stinks of death and decay, I find myself back in the waking world. Or perhaps I’m dreaming. I could never tell, it always looked so real. Still looks real. The sun continues its slow descent towards the western horizon, while the moon sits in the sky, almost as if it were mocking any who look upon it. Despite this, or perhaps because of this, it gets hotter as time passes, until it overwhelms me. It seems my time has finally come. My race will die with me today. Just as I lie down, the environment suddenly fractures and shatters, to be replaced in an instant by mountains and trees. I sit up and spot a village nearby, suggesting that there is some form of civilization. Standing up, I approach the village, suddenly feeling tired from all of the walking I’ve been doing. Then I hear the sound of wolves nearby. I instinctively grab the blade strapped to my hip and unsheathe it, the ringing sound so very familiar, yet wrong somehow. Looking at the blade for a moment, I see that it is made in the shape of a key. Returning my attention to the wolves, I see that they, as well as the world around me, are gone, replaced by a glass platform. The platform depicts Sweetie Belle and me in the centre, with various faces filling the smaller circle near the top, some of which I’ve never seen before. Looking around, there are obviously other platforms, but no way to reach them. The world around me crumbles again, leaving me in a decrepit facility on an alien world, the smell of ungodly beasts filling the air, and their corpses littering the floor. I notice a door just ahead of me and, upon opening it, receive a greeting from a small horde of the beasts. Some of them try to shoot me by controlling the remains of my fallen comrades, while others just throw balls of fire at me. Carefully evading most of them and blasting the foul beasts into oblivion with my shotgun, I check my singed shoulder, only to find the world gone again. “ENOUGH!” I shout into the void, which replaces itself with Ponyville, though not like I’ve seen before on the show. There’s nopony around, most of the building are gone or on fire, and it smells of burned flesh. A beat runs through my head, urging me to go along with it, leading me to a flaming Carousel Boutique. A new beat, but still very familiar, enters my ears. It overpowers the other beat, and seems chaotic in its uniformity. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Repeating seemingly ad infinitum, never faltering, never fading. Sitting in front of where the door of the boutique would be if it were still there, I find Sweetie Belle, tapping away at the ground. I cautiously approach her, unsure if she would be scared or not, but tread on a stray twig and snap it underfoot. She stops tapping and looks up at me in one quick movement. Her eyes are wide and unblinking, like she had just escaped a mental asylum, filled with fear and hurt. “What have you done?” She asks me, her eyes still not blinking. “I-” I start, but the world is torn out from under us, replaced by a giant city, stretching as far as the eye can see in every direction. I recognize some of the buildings, and pin our current location as the plane of Ravnica, in the Boros district if the marching of soldiers is any indication of this. Shaking my head, I return my focus to Sweetie Belle, who no longer looks like something broke in her head. She is instead seated at a table, most likely part of an outdoor restaurant, eating a salad. One of the people working there usher me over to the seat opposite her, rather forcefully seat me and take my order. I look around to see that the people are staring at the two of us, though more of the stares seemed to be directed at me rather than Sweetie. “This is the last time I go to a place like this wearing this,” I say to no one in particular, gesturing with my hands to the t-shirt and tracksuit pants that are on my body, as well as the simplistic and inelegant running shoes and thick gloves that are on my hands and feet, irrespectively. Sweetie chuckles a bit at my fussing as someone returns with my order; some salmon and potato wedges. Picking up the fork and knife that sat either side of the plate, I started cutting the fish into smaller pieces. Placing one of the pieces in my mouth, Sweetie clears her throat. “So, how’s things?” She asks nervously, obviously unsure how to start a conversation with someone who has essentially taken control of your body. I attempt to maintain some form of composure while I finish the piece of potato in my mouth, before bursting into loud, hearty laughter. Part way through, I fall back in my chair and the laughter has evolved from loud and hearty to inane and of an oscillating volume. Most of the people nearby are at least a little frightened by this, if their running away screaming is any indication of this, while soldiers look on, unsure of whether or not I should be apprehended. “T-The drums, the n-never ending d-drums,” I stammer like some kind of madman, prompting a couple of the guards to restrain me, as a precaution for my hitting someone, “The c-clever girl, she f-found the drums, and the p-precious, and t-the answer. Hahahaha. W-What use is an a-answer if y-you don’t even have t-the question?” My blabbering became more nonsensical and my right eye twitched, while Sweetie remained in her seat, eyes filled with terror, “D-Don’t be a-afraid, clever g-girl. I c-can fix me. Just w-watch.” And with that, I snap my fingers and dispel the world around again, replacing it with a classroom, the one in Ponyville, if I’m right. The room is empty of ponies, except for Sweetie, who is seated at the centre desk, while I stand in front of the chalkboard. “Ahhhhhh,” I sigh contentedly, stretching and cracking various parts of my body, “That’s much better.” “Yes, now that you’ve had your fun,” I say in a stereotypically English manner, fixing the collar of my shirt. “‘Had mah fun’?” I start again, now in the also stereotyped Texas accent, pulling a Stetson out of hammerspace and dropping it on my head, “Th’ fun‘s only jus’ startin’!” “Uh… Um… I think that now isn’t really the time for this. Um… I mean, if you don’t mind,” Again, me, but as Fluttershy-esque as I can muster. Shaking my head and blowing a raspberry, I sit in the chair that is at the teacher’s desk, in front of all of the others, for optimal teaching patterns. “Now,” I start mock sternly, as if Sweetie had done something wrong, “You know what happens when you try to strike up a conversation with me, at a restaurant in the Boros district while I’m eating fish and chips, with the line ‘How’s things’.” For just the briefest of moments I thought I could smell smoke over the chalk dust that filled the room, but that was probably just residual… stuff from the… place jumping, for lack of better terms. “You aren’t crazy, are you?” Sweetie said, the connection between her brain and mouth quite loose at this point. I couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the directness she seemed to possess when she had no idea what was going on. “Well, yes and no,” I say with an air of indifference. Sweetie merely cocked her head to the side, her face easily described as reading ‘What’. “It’d take too long to explain and I doubt we have the time for it,” I state with a hint of finality, seeing as to how I’ve never been comfortable talking about myself. Hell, I even had troubles telling people my name when I was younger. And then there’s always been that other problem, but any way, I’m still talking, “But, we do have enough time for you to explain something.” “Oh, really? What?” “How come I’m wan-”
Pillows, Princes And Pony Videos, Oh My!Chapter 4 Pillows, Princes And Pony Videos, Oh My! “-dering around in your body?” I ask as I wake up, though it sounds garbled because I, somehow, have a pillow in my mouth. Spitting the pillow out of my mouth, I glance around my room again, making sure everything is there. Despite the minimal amount of light that comes in through the window, I can easily see that everything is just as I left it. My parents call it a mess, but I like to think of it as organized chaos. Hearing a meow next to me startles me, but I calm down when I see it’s just Jess, the family cat. “You don’t care that I’ve changed, do you meow-cat?” I ask demeaningly, to which she only responds by walking out of the room, presumably because she wants some food. Stretching my legs, I hop up out of bed and trot into the kitchen about five seconds before my stomach rumbles. “Yeah, yeah. You’re gettin’ some food,” I say, which seems to shut it up for long enough for me to encounter more problems. All the food that I can find in the pantry and various cupboards seems like it wouldn’t be safe for ponies, or is too high for me to reach it, even when standing on a chair. The fridge doesn’t bode much better, because, while the old piece of crap has food in it that I can eat, it’s all in plastic containers that seem to be specifically designed to be impossible to open with hooves. “Celestia damnit, I just want a fucking carrot!” I shout, which helps vent some frustration, “Is that too much to ask?” In my frustration, I throw the container at the table, the impact of which opens it, much to my chagrin. Grumbling in annoyance, I trot over to the carrots and pick one up with my hoof, an action which prompts the thinking to go in high gear. ‘Why is this happening? Why to me? What have I done to deserve this? Who did this? What do they want?’ I think silently to myself, staring down at the carrot. With tears forming in my eyes, which fell onto the carrot, my hoof and the floor, I felt my entire world crash down around me. I just don’t know what’s going on anymore. It just seems like nothing makes any sense anymore. Not even something as simple as the days of the week. It’s just so fucking frustrating. I can’t handle it anymore. Shaking my head to clear away the depressing thoughts, I wipe any tears off the carrot and eat it. I don’t know if it’s me, or Sweetie becoming more present in my head, but the carrot kinda reminds me of Scoot. *yawn* Hearing that ghastly noise sends shivers up my spine, fearing what kind of beast sounds like that. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!” The beast screams, in a voice that I swear I’ve heard before, followed by a thud. Wincing slightly, I cautiously approach the location of the beast, which just happens to be my room. Pushing the door open and poking my head in, I see a unicorn stallion, lying in a mess on the floor, some of the bed sheets draped over him. Searching for some give away as to which unicorn this is, I start scanning his body with my eyes. His white coat clues me in as to who it is, as there aren’t many ponies with white coats, even on the show. Finding my eyes slowly making their way towards his flank, I shoot them across to a nearby wall. ‘Damnit brain,’ I think chidingly to myself, ‘You just had to go there, didn’t you?’ Getting no response, I sigh and turn back to the mysterious stallion, who had managed to untangle himself from the bed sheets and stand, even if it is a bit wobbly. Despite being slightly intimidated by the fact that he is quite a bit taller than I am, I notice a compass rose on his flank, though still chastising myself for looking. Averting my gaze from his flank, I notice the wide-eyed state of shock that he appears to be in. This helps me a bit, because I’m no longer so intimidated by him that I can actually approach him. “Wow,” I start giddily, bowing respectfully before continuing, “I never thought I’d get to meet Prince Blueblood.” “Harrumph,” Blueblood began regally, sticking his nose in the air, “Well, as can be seen, met him you have, small child.” “Since when did you become so full of shit?” I smirk evilly, which creeps Blueblood out, before he bursts into a fit of laughter. “Ah,” Blueblood continues, regaining his composure, “That was too much. You know I can’t handle it when you do that. How’d you figure me out, anyways?” “I didn’t,” I say nonchalantly, trotting across the room to grab my bag, slinging it over my back precariously, “Also, Asha, walking works in a criss-crossing pattern.” Returning to the kitchen with Asha/Blueblood in tow, who fell over a few times, I began making preparations for my trek across the world. Laying a map out on the table, I grabbed a pen in my mouth and started drawing circles around particular cities and drawing lines between them to have some kind of rudimentary path to follow. “Right,” I mumble around the pen, “My first stop is here,” I circle Melbourne a few more times for emphasis, “And I’d like to stop in New York,” More circles for New York, “But I reckon that it’s not much of a priority, so we can go to a whole bunch of other places first. Any questions?” “Yeah,” Asha begins, “What d’you mean by ‘we’?” “You don’t really think I’m going to leave you here on your own now that you’ve turned into a pony, do you?” I say inquisitively, spitting the pen out of my mouth. That shut her up, so I continued with the plan, outlining a small group of cities that I’d like to go to before the Big Apple. Rolling up the map, I unzip my bag and put the map in, taking out a jacket to wear. The jacket did take a bit of fiddling, but I did eventually get it on, even if I had to lie on my back and get Asha to zip it up. ‘Damn it,’ I think to nopony in particular, ‘I really need to get my brain out of the gutter.’ ‘What gutter?’ Sweetie thinks questioningly towards me, obviously unawares of the euphemism. ‘Metaphorical gutter, I’ll explain it when you’re older.’ I think back to her, before figuratively slapping a hoof to my forehead, ‘Hang on. How come I can hear you now?’ ‘I don’t know.’ Sweetie thinks in my general direction, whatever that might be. ‘Lovely. Well, I should probably stop thinking in italics now.’ I think with a hint of boredom. Guessing from the silence, Sweetie has no idea what I’m thinking about, ‘I’ll tell you all about it when we get to talk properly again,’ I continue with a sigh, ‘But for now, I think this ought to be a satisfactory change in pace, or style, whichever, it doesn’t really matter.’ Returning from the rather unusual moment of introspection, I find Asha breathing a sigh of relief, as if something terrible had just happened. Shrugging and rolling over, I sling my bag over my back, trotting with forced grace over to Asha, jumping up onto his back and wrapping my forelegs around his neck. “What do you think you’re doing back there?” Asha asks, turning his head round to face me. “Doesn’t matter,” I say, kicking him in the side, “Now, onwards! To the nearest video camera!” With a sigh and a shake of his head, Asha trotted out the back door, somehow locking it behind him, and the gate, locking it too, before accelerating into a full out gallop. I tried to wrap my hind legs around his barrel to stop myself from falling off while tightening my grip on his neck, which forced my muzzle into his crest. Looking around, I could see lots of cars zooming past along the highway, the sight of which makes me thank my lucky stars that we were on a side road. Most of the people in the cars weren’t too bothered by the sight of Sweetie Belle latched onto Prince Blueblood, who was galloping like there was no tomorrow, which, knowing Discord, was entirely possible, while others were awestruck by the sight and others still appeared to be waving to us, though those ones were few and far between and it was mostly other ponies doing the waving. Feeling Asha turn onto the highway so we could cross it, my hooves started slipping and no matter how much I tried to get them to stay, they’d just keep slipping. Hearing a loud screech, I turned to see that Asha had just been hit by a car and the impact of which had catapulted me a good fifty metres or so before I hit the ground, bouncing back up a bit, tearing some flesh and breaking bones on the road, screaming out in pain. I continued like that for a short while before I rolled to a stop, lifting a hoof to try and wipe some of the blood from my eyes. Then everything went black.
Two Out Of Three Ain't BadChapter 5 Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad. Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… Groaning slightly, I try to open my eyes, which proves harder than I thought it would be. Barely opening them more than a few millimetres, the light flooding in is too bright and I shut them again with haste. Better prepared for the brightness, I open my eyes again, only to see a white roof above me. Looking around, I see the walls and floor are white as well, with a door on one-side of the room and a window on the other. Part of the room is blocked by a curtain of such a shade of green that it clashed with the walls, presumably so I can have some semblance of privacy. Despite the bright lights, I can see the moon out the window, telling me that it’s night outside, which has always been oddly calming. Beep… Beep… Oh, and there’s a machine hooked upto me, which is keeping track of my heart rate and breathing. I breathe a sigh of relief knowing that those are still working. The sheer whiteness of the room isn’t much help for giving me stuff to do, as is the lack of stuff to do, so I decide to get to some maintenance. ‘Sweetie, you’re in control now,’ I think towards her before jumping out of the metaphorical driver’s seat, ‘Act natural.’ Without another word, thought or otherwise, Sweetie is back in control of her body, and I can get to some relatively important business. Examining my right foreleg, I find that it isn’t white anymore like Sweetie’s, but more of a very light pink, sort of like a cherry blossom. Lifting the leg up to my forehead, I find a horn, which doesn’t surprise me as much as Sweetie’s did. Placing my hoof back on the ground with a wibbly thud, I turn to see that my tail, and presumably mane as well, is a light blue colour, with an unusual cutie mark plastered on my flanks. ‘A quaver and a quill, huh?’ I think to myself, hoping that I’m not interrupting whatever Sweetie is doing, ‘That’s… interesting, to say the least. I guess that means my special talent has something to do with writing, or music. Heck, why not both.’ Shrugging my forelegs slightly, an action that normally would’ve broken the laws of reality, I meander out of the airport-styled terminal that is the hub between my and Sweetie’s minds and into the rolling countryside of my mind. I don’t know why it’s a rolling countryside, but my best guess would be that it sat still for a while, before getting bored. Looking to the sky, I see the sun drop suddenly from the azimuth to just above the horizon. Wandering the countryside, which has finally stopped rolling, I come upon a mountain range, at the top of which lies a moderately sized cabin. Teleporting there, because I’m not going to climb a mountain in my head, the ground around the cabin falls away, revealing a castle to which the cabin is the top of a tower. Trotting down the stairway, which leads to the castle gates, I hear Sweetie thinking something to me. ‘Jason,’ She starts, a hint of something I can’t quite put my hoof on in her tone, ‘Has anypony ever confused somepony not related to you for one of your parents?’ ‘Someone thought Blueblood was your dad, didn’t they?’ I think back to her, stopping suddenly about halfway down the stairwell. ‘Yep.’ Sweetie thought to me, the tone of her voice betraying how disturbed by that image she is (see: very). Not that I notice for long, seeing as how the image made me laugh like some sort of madmare, tumbling down the stairs. Lying at the bottom of the stairs in a mess of hooves and wings, I groan slightly, sore all over from the tumbling. I eventually try to stand, untangling myself from the pegasus that I may have accidentally grounded. I stop for a moment, taken aback by the pegasus, looking him over. His slim build, light blue coat, lighter red mane and tail and blank flank all tell me that this is the pegasus that had slipped my mind for a good fortnight or so, in the old measurement of days at least. “S-Storm Chaser?” I stammer, earning a slight groan from the named pegasus, before he opens his eyes, rolls out from under me, gets to his hooves and decides to float about half a metre in the air. “I’ve been waiting for you, mistress Scratch,” Storm states in the depressing tone that I now kinda regret giving the poor little colt, though it is cute when his voice cracks, before flying towards the castle at trotting speed, “Please, come with me.” Following Storm, I make my way into the castle, which looks more and more like Canterlot during the Grand Galloping Gala as we traverse the halls, complete with snobbish nobles. Passing hundreds of ballrooms, about half a dozen of which have some less than ‘safe for work’ stuff in there, Storm eventually lands at a door, barely tall enough for anypony to trot through, and turns to me. “The control room, mistress Scratch.” Storm says before flying away swiftly, leaving a small trail of red in his wake. Using magic to open the door, I find a dimly lit room, filled along five of its six walls, from floor to roof, with technology that is probably nonsensical, if the lightsaber hanging above the window is any indication of it. Trotting to the far wall, a computer terminal sits, waiting for somepony to press a button. Swishing my tail for the hell of it, I lift myself, using the terminal for support, up onto my hind legs. Pressing the power button on the terminal, the computer comes to life and the door behind me slams shut, which sends a shiver up my spine. Breathing heavily, I read the screen, which awaits further instruction. ENTER PASSCODE “Passcode, passcode. Damn, what was my passcode?” I think aloud quietly to myself, worried that somepony might overhear me, “Ah!” ENTER PASSCODE ************************************************************* CHECKING PASSCODE… “Come on, come on, come on, come on.” I say quietly, willing the machine to work faster. PASSCODE ACCEPTED. WELCOME. “Good, I’m in,” I cheer quietly, letting out the breath I didn’t know I was holding in. Grabbing the mouse with my right fore-hoof, I clicked around through files in an odd manner, selecting things that I didn’t think it would be best if Sweetie could see, taking into consideration that we could both view each other’s mind. As I clicked, the room took on an ethereal glow, floating up and out of the castle, continuing until the castle was little more than a speck, the world around it viewable in its entirety. With the moon shining brightly above me, I skim through all of the files, each file lighting up a different area of the world, putting the final touches on to filly-proofing my mind, lest something horrible happen. Sighing in relief as I complete my task, I turn the terminal off and fall onto my back, shutting my eyes and falling slowly back to the ground. Passing through several clouds, I land with a soft thump on the field outside the airport terminal, the blades of grass tickling my back with their weird little fingers. Giggling, I roll onto my hooves and trot back into the terminal, just as a military jet passed overhead. Inside, I find Sweetie heading back in from her side, a contented smile on her face and humming a merry tune, one that I’d heard many times beforehoof, compelling me to sing along. 'Summer has come and passed. The innocent can never last. Wake me up, when September ends!’ I sing in my ‘what-would-be-tenor-if-I-were-a-guy’ voice, which just happens to come to me most naturally. Sweetie stops humming, but the backdrop picks up exactly where she left off. ‘Like my father’s come to pass, seven years has gone so fast. Wake me up, when September ends!’ Sweetie sings, her voice melodic and easily able to capture anyponies attention. Prancing gracefully, we circle the room, gradually approaching each other. ‘Here comes the rain again, falling from the stars. Drenched in my pain again, becoming who we are!’ I continue, slightly disharmonious from the backdrop due to a filly-sized distraction. ‘As my memory rests, but never forgets what I lost. Wake me up when September ends!’ Sweetie finishes, half expecting me to return to the outside, at a guess. But, of course, I have other plans. ‘I’m not a fan of puppeteers, but I’ve a nagging fear, that someone else is pulling all the strings,’ I sing, forcing the backdrop, which has materialised as an orchestral group, to adapt to the new style, ‘Something terrible is going down, through the entire town, wreaking anarchy and all it brings!’ Before I can start the next verse, however, the orchestra disappears, leaving me to stumble over my words and, by extension, my legs. Using magic to stop myself from falling flat on my face, I take my leave, returning to the world beyond our minds. Waking up, I find myself being carried in the arms of somebody that I’ve never met before. Looking around worriedly, I spot Blueblood trotting along next to the stranger, his eyes lighting up slightly as he notices my nonsleepingness, which is totally a word. “Mmm,” I force out, before stretching my legs as much as I can before rubbing some of the sleep out of my eyes, “Where the fuck are we, Bluey?” The stranger dropped my out of shock when I said fuck, but Blueblood managed to catch me with his magic before I hit the ground, levitating me towards him and dropping me on his back. Fidgeting slightly to get into a comfortable position, I look around to get a better view of my surroundings. I can’t really see everything due to the large number of people rushing about, or standing there gawking at me and Bluey, but the first window I manage to get a good look out of shocked me right to that little place next to my core. What I saw was an Airbus A380. Blueblood cleared his throat and spoke calmly. “We’re in Los Angeles International Airport.”
The Next CrusadeChapter 6 The Next Crusade Having regained consciousness after fainting by the sound of cars zooming past, I find myself in the backseat of a Ford, if the Ford badge on the dashboard is anything to go by, with Blueblood sitting next to me, watching over me like a mama bear, despite being my friend/some random prince dude, the distinctly different cutie mark on his side catching my eye, which could have been noticed earlier, as it was a pencil, eraser and helmet-with-a-star-on-it instead of the compass rose. “Hey,” I start, pointing a hoof towards Bluebloods alabaster flank, “How come you’ve got a different cutie mark?” “Hmm?” Blueblood, who was actually Asha at the time, queried, turning his gaze from me to each of his flanks, then back to me, “Oh, it’s nothin’, just my cutie mark on this side, while Bluebloods is one the other. It happened on Smatterday.” Somewhat satisfied with that answer, I return to my seated position, intrigued by the fact that two ponies in one body will each have separate cutie marks. ‘Hmm,’ I think, my face contorting slightly to accommodate the frown I get whenever I think relatively deeply about stuff, ‘I wonder, if Blueblood and Asha both have their cutie marks, maybe Sweetie and I do too.’ Gazing around to my right, I find no cutie mark, but the left provides a different image. There I found a quill and quaver, the cutie mark I had when I was that pink pony inside my head. Looking over it, I became more and more curious, questions bubbling to the fore-front of my mind. ‘Who is this mysterious pony? Why do I feel as if I met them a long time ago? What is the connection between us? Is it Sweetie? Is she the link? Or has she just allowed it to become manifest?’ Are a small variety of the questions running through my head, chosen because I could actually keep track of them before settling on a thought and shrugging, ‘I just don’t know.’ Sighing slightly, I turn my gaze to the world beyond the car, watching the buildings and other cars go by, the tiniest little bit bothered by the idea of driving on the right-hoof side of the road. It doesn’t take long for me to get bored, so I undo my seatbelt and rummage around the car for my backpack. Finding it in the front passenger hoofwell, I grab it with my teeth and drag it back to my spot in the back of the car, straining slightly to lift it up. Opening the bag, I pull out my jacket, which is now torn and slightly blood-stained in multiple places, mostly around the torso area, placing it on the back of the seat and my iPod, untangling the earphones from themselves with great difficulty and placing them in my ears with greater difficulty. “I thought Blueblood taught you levitation magic already?” Asha asked, concern evident in her/his voice. ‘Hey Sweetie, did Prince Jerk teach you how to levitate stuff?’ I think to Sweetie, masking it on the outside with a thoughtful look on my face and a hoof rubbing my chin after I zip up the bag. ‘Who’s Prince Jerk?’ Sweetie replies, unawares of the fine art of name-calling. ‘Blueblood,’ I deadpan, though it still gets the message across to Sweetie. ‘Oh, yeah. He said that he was really frustrated with my progress though, whatever that means. Why’s he a jerk?’ Sweetie informs, slight confusion evident in her voice nearer to the end. ‘Ask your sister when we see her,’ I finalise, or, at least, I thought I did. Closing the channel, something I didn’t consciously know I could do until just then, I prepare to return to watching cars drive past, when Sweetie stopped me. ‘Wait, hang on,’ Sweetie started, obviously having noticed that one mistake I made, ‘How do you know Rarity?’ ‘Uh… Because you know her?’ I asked hopefully, blanking slightly as a minor side effect and metaphorically shitting myself. Hearing nothing but some mutterings from Sweetie in response, I return my attention outside. “Yeah,” I started, “Apparently he, or you, whichever, did.” Actually looking at the human-girl-turned-unicorn-prince, I saw that she, or he, I don’t know, I’ll figure it out at some point, was fast asleep, drained from the trek up to this point, at a guess. Overwhelmed by the cuteness of a pony sleeping, even if it is the biggest jerk in the show, I ‘d’aww’ softly, bringing myself to the driver’s attention. “I didn’t know ponies were so susceptible to the cuteness of each other.” She said, glancing in the rear-view mirror to see Blue sleeping as if he were dead to the world. “I didn’t know that either,” I say, provoking an eyebrow to be raised, “Maybe I still don’t know. After all, I’m not the original pony here,” I finish, pointing a hoof at myself. “So you’re not Sweetie Belle then?” She asked, even though it sounded rhetorical to me. “Nnope,” I say in an attempt to emulate Big Mac, even though the vocal chords I’m equipped with can’t actually hit that area, so it ends up sounding like Apple Bloom, as I throw the torn jacket on, sliding the bag onto my back next, then clambering over into the front passenger’s seat. “So how long ago did you become Sweetie?” She asks, adding a “If you don’t mind,” as an afterthought. “Depends, what date is it?” I ask, figuring it wouldn’t have been that long since Blue ‘woke up’, for lack of a more descriptive term. “The 6th,” She said provoking a look of shock from me, which was quickly pushed away. “Shit, that long already?” I start, earning myself a nod, “Well, that means Sweetie and I have been sharing her body for four or five days now.” “Oh, yeah. You’re Australian.” She said, as if that explained everything, though it did wipe a confused look from her face. “Eeyup,” I return, before remembering that I should at least try to be polite to her, especially after helping as much as she has, “By the way,” I continue extending a hoof towards her, “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Jason. What’s your name?” “Sandra.” Sandra responds, carefully shaking my hoof with her hand while keeping her eyes on the road. “A lovely name, Sandra,” I started, receiving a snort of amusement at the faux-British accent that I displayed, “Well, allow me to be the first, assuming ‘his royal highness’ hasn’t already, in the event of which, then allow me to be the second, or maybe third if ‘his majesty’s’ body-double has as well, or even fourth if Sweetie has, which seems likely, considering how long we’ve been here to thank you for helping us. We’d probably still be in Australia if it weren’t for you.” “Nah, it was nothin’. ‘An enemy of my enemy is my friend’, even if they are a pony.” Sandra says, prompting a strange look from me. “Enemy of your enemy?” I ask, the sort-of-but-not-really-hidden message passing straight over my head, a look of perterbence plaster on the front of Sweetie's head. “You’ve not heard of PAPA?” Sandra queries, or, at least, that’s how it sounded to me. “Who?” I return in a rather nice imitation of Owlowysious, if I do say so myself, which I do, so to all those people who say that I can’t, fuck ya, ya wankers. “People Against Ponies Association, or whatever the second ‘A’ is. They reckon that you ponies are at fault for all the weird shit that’s been happening lately, like the thing with calendars.” Sandra informs me, eliciting a small “Ah,” of comprehension. “So, what’re you lot called? ‘People Against People Against Ponies whatever-their-A-is whatever-your-A-is’? PAPAPAA?” I ask, which just earns me a brief chuckle from Sandra. “Nah, we call ourselves ‘The Crusaders’. Dunno why though. I mean, it’s not like we’re fighting a war, right?” Sandra answers, provoking a chuckle from me, “What? What’s so funny?” “We are the Cutie Mark Crusaders, on a quest to find out who we are,” I sing, slightly bemused by the overwhelming joy that comes from it, “And we will never stop our journey, not until we have our Cutie Marks!” Breathing a little heavier after blasting a song like that, I do a mock bow when Sandra applauds, though most of the applause is for Sweetie. I stop for a while, my train of thought carrying me to an interesting station. “If Sweetie’s here, which she is, else this conversation would definitely not be happening, then Pinkie Pie probably is too, don’tcha reckon?” I ask Sandra, who responds with a look of confusion before holding a finger up to stop me for a moment. “Speaking of the pink chaos spawn,” Sandra starts, pulling a laptop out of the bag beside her, “The prince and his femme comrade wanted me to show you both this.” Quickly jumping inside my head to bring Sweetie into the ‘drivers seat’ with me, Sandra pulls over the car before booting the laptop, accessing YouTube, and searching ‘Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy – This Is Halloween’, opening the first video that appeared. The video opened to a crowd of media men and women, throwing a barrage of questions at Pinkie and Fluttershy. Pinkie manages to quieten down the media folk by stating that she, nor the others would be answering questions at that time. She, however, then seems to be about to make some kind of wacky speech, to which the crowd become silent and the camera zooms in on Pinkie, while Sandra continues driving across the United States. The beat from ‘This Is Halloween’ starts, and Pinkie sings the first line, the camera passing over a fellow crusader for a moment. “It’s Apple Bloom!” Sweetie squeaks, pointing a hoof at her image while I privately curse myself for thinking along a particular line that I shall not divulge. The song continues like it did in ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’, but with a completely new cast; Pinkie and Apple Bloom, obviously, Fluttershy and Gilda, the latter of whom I did not see coming, a unicorn and alicorn that I’ve never seen before, and some random people, who seemed to be immersing themselves in the mood. After it finished, I immediately clicked the ‘more notes’ clickable, hoping that it might inform me as to the names of the two ponies I didn’t recognize. “Hmm, ‘Shining Armor’ and ‘Princess Cadence’. Who are you?” I mutter, having resumed sole control of my body. Googling their names, I find out that they were introduced to the show at the end of season 2, in a double episode likened to those that opened both seasons. Deciding against jumping ahead to their episodes, I open YouTube again and continue to watch the show from where I left off before all of this nonsense started. “Season 2, Episode 3. Here I come.”
Next Stop, New York City?Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.
