GREEN
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3689 20.71 KB 190
3689 20.71 KB 190
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>"Hey Anon! Hey Anon!"
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>You look up from the book you are reading to see Lyra galloping towards you
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>Setting your book aside you pat the open space next to you
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"What can I do for you, Lyra?"
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>She jumps up next to you, spins around twice before plopping her flanks down and look up at you
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>"Bon Bon dared me to kiss you!"
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>You chuckle
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"Oh really?"
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>"uh huh, she said she's tired of me always talking about you and then said if I like you so much to kiss you"
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>Lyra then points at some bushes
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>"She's hiding over there"
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>You follow where her hoof is pointing at to see some bushes with the top of Bon Bon's head poking up at the top which quickly disappear
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"So what now?"
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>"This" Lyra jumps up and hooks her forelegs over your shoulder and showers your face with kisses
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>Laughing you try to pull back while your eyes are closed making a face like you bit into a lemon
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>This goes on for about a minute
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>Suddenly you hear a new voice along with some hot breath on the back of your neck
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>"That's not how you kiss"
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>Lyra stops her kiss onslaught and looks past you her nose booping yours
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>"Oh yeah Bonnie, How would you do it?"
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>You feel a new pair of hooves grab you head and pull you back until Bon Bon's face if looming over you
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>"like this" Bon Bon licks your face, forehead to chin before kissing you on the lips deeply
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>This isn't playful shenanigans anymore
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>You're shocked and before you can do anything
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>Lyra begins to kiss your neck and chest
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>things are getting out of hand
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>Then you hear someone clear their throat
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>All three of you freeze before slowly look to the source to see an angry looking CherryBerry
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>"This is a family park with filly's not your bedroom, perverts"
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>Before you can answer both Lyra and Bon Bon take off.
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>Blowing you kisses before they disappear back into town
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>CherryBerry watches them gallop off before turning back to you
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>You cough into you hand and pick your book back up
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"I'll just finish this at home"
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>Lyra's turn to cook tonight.
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>You've been living with her for a year, and she's sweet, funny, and agreeably kooky.
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>You also detest spiders. Can't stand the little buggers
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>So, Lyra gets rid of them for you. You were grateful...until you saw exactly how she was doing that. Like, an hour ago.
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>She didn't know you were looking. She just chewed once and swallowed it down
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>You could barely keep from gagging when you saw it
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>She's a little weird about her medications, too. Keeps them in the fridge. On a hunch, you checked the bottles
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>And sure enough, one of them contained fresh spiders. Big ones.
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>She's at the table with you, plowing through her seafood tempura with gusto.
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>You're picking at yours, trying not to imagine that the crispy little things are actually spiders, and not, as Lyra calls them, "Softshell Gryphonica Red Spider crabs."
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>And damned if they don't look like the ones in the big bottle.
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>And even worse...they're delicious. They're about your favorite dish since coming to Equestria, and she cooks them a lot.
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>She notices you're not eating. "What's wrong, Anon?" she asks, concern in her voice. "You normally inhale this when I fix it. Is everything okay?"
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>You look down at the plate of crunchy fried "spider crabs" and the seafood salad beside it, and back at her. Her face reflects her worry. "I'm...a little off my feed tonight," you say.
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>You aren't lying. Your face is distinctly greenish. "I think lunch is disagreeing with me a bit. Uh...do you want this? Don't want it to go to waste," you say.
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>Her face softens. She smiles. "True that," she says. "They're pretty pricy. I get a good deal on them, but yeah, let's not waste them." You slide the plate over to her and she munches through them.
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>later, in bed, after an energetic session of lovemaking, you find yourself staring at the dark ceiling for a long, long time.
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>ywn form a menage a trois with the both of them
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>Cuddling whenever it's cold, a mare on each side
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>Fooling around when making supper, until bonbon becomes all grumpy and you have to scratch her ears while minthoers kisses her
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>Gang up on each other from time to time, like pinning lyra down while bonbon eats her out and you stroke her horn to stop her from using her magic to get out
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>To wake up every other birthdays to find them sucking and lapping at your cock
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>To get one of them pregnant and to take care of the foal as if it had two mommies and a daddy
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>Then having the other one wanting one of her own and giving it to her
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>"So...this kind of thing happens a lot around here?"
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>You're Anon, and you're lying down, relaxing beside your live-in marefriend.
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>On the ceiling.
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>Yeah. It's been one of THOSE days. At least chocolate milk isn't raining outside this time, and the furniture isn't animated. Discord isn't involved, apparently.
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>You've met him. He's not a bad guy, once you get to know him.
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>"Well, it USED to," she says. "It seemed like something weird would happen a couple of times a month. Everypony just...got used to it. We'd have town meetings, the Mayor worked with Canterlot to come up with civil action plans, they held free workshops for volunteers. We'd come up with scenarios and drill. The first thing they drilled into us was BACE."
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>"Base?"
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>"B.A.C.E." she pronounces each letter separately. "Breathe. Assess. Calculate. Execute.
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>Outside the kitchen window, a school of brightly-colored fish with giant, carnivorous teeth swims by through the air, upside down from your perspective. Once the initial panic had died down, the whole thing was becoming fascinating.
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>Even a little amusing. She'd been the one to help you focus on your breathing, told you to close your eyes and breathe and listen to her voice, utterly calm and collected.
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>It's just as well that this happened inside. If you'd been outside, you'd both be sailing through the ionosphere right now.
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>Lyra continues.
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>"First, breathe. Whatever's happening, if you're not immediately dead or bleeding, you're probably okay for at least the moment. Even if you ARE hurt, you're not doing yourself or anyone else any good if you're panicking. Get that under control." She's bouncing a rubber ball against the floor beneath you, catching it in her hooves when it comes back up.
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>Magic is wonky right now. She'd tried to catch it in her magic, shortly after local gravity had reversed, and instead she'd accidentally blasted a hole in the floor with a bolt of lightning she HADN'T been trying to cast.
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She didn't even KNOW that spell.
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>"You start telling yourself right off the bat that, whatever's happening, you can handle it. You're either right or you're not. Most of the time, though, you are. Mindset is the most important thing in a crisis, a negative attitude gets a pony hurt or killed faster than anything else." Tap tap tap goes the red rubber ball. She's amazingly good with those hooves.
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>"Second, you assess. You get to a safe place if there IS one as fast as possible and get anypony else there with you if you can. You check for injuries, then you start first sharing information with other ponies. If you're already in a safe place, you stay there. We're safe for the moment, so..."
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>You're not so sure about that. You hear rumbles and bangs outside, far away. Whatever's happening, it's major.
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>"Most of the time, you sit and wait until the authorities--or whoever's handling it--does their thing. That's the police and emergency workers first, with the Elements helping as they need to, or the militia. If it's something that ONLY the elements can help with, they do--whatever it is that needs doing while the authorities just concentrate on keeping order, giving them a clear field to work with and helping anypony that needs it. You stay out of the way."
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>There's a deafening explosion and a roar that sounds like Hell itself opened up. Maybe it has. Apparently there actually IS a Hell, and here it's called Tartarus. Really made you think. Or panic, that was threatening to rise again.
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>Lyra's dulcet voice is soothing and rhythmic, and you deliberately tune out the outside distractions and listen to it. Breathe. Calm down, Anon, you're fine, both of you are fine.
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>the ball bounces against the floor every couple of seconds with a gentle tapping sound. tap...tap...tap...like a metronome. You feel the warmth of her body next to you and the feel of her silken fur against you.
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>Gradually your breathing eases again. You open your eyes, and outside, you see trees ambulating past. There's a flash, and first one of them and then another explodes into burning kindling. There's a rainbow colored streak that suddenly pauses, and you see Rainbow Dash, holding a tiny, scared-looking filly in her forelegs.
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>She says something to the kid, smiling reassuringly, and the little filly giggles. And then they're both gone. "Damn," you say, wonder and awe momentarily driving away fear and apprehension. "It's like having a real-life superhero team next door."
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>"Just knowing that that helps a lot," she says, smiling. "They're completely bucking crazy, all of them. But if you need help, you don't want anypony else beside you." Giant-ass snakes made of fire and lava swim by in the air outside, and you close your eyes again. You fucking hate snakes.
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>Wait, was that Applejack riding one of them? You think you recognize her from the market. You can't tell for sure, but the pony is orange, wearing a stetson and she's snarling and punching the giant burning serpent in the back of the head with a booted hoof over and over, and you can hear the thuds even through the walls of the house.
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>"Once you're someplace safe, start administering first aid. Treat the worst cases first. Every block has a block captain, and she's trained for basic first aid, she gives orders to everyone else if they don't know. She does a quick headcount and we start first aid for anypony who needs it. Ponyville's small enough that most of us know pretty much everypony else, so that helps." tap...tap...tap.
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>"You can't get a business license here or rent out properties without taking a first aid test and getting a refresher annually. Not everypony likes that, but..." you hear the shrug in her voice. "It's free, it's a day or two of your time, and it's better than running a motel or a boarding house and not being able to help your guests or customers when something happens."
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>There's another series of explosions, disturbingly close. tap...tap...tap goes the ball.
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>"Once you've got first aid down, then you..Calculate. You come up with a plan. Most of the time, your plan is going to be very simple. Just wait, take care of each other, keep each other calm.
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>"If you have to leave, you discuss what you're going to do and where you're going to go and who does what, the next closest place that should be safe and the fastest, safest way to get everypony there. that's usually where the arguments start, when some flankhole decides that they'd rather be in charge. So this is more of an ideal than reality, but you have to deal with that as it comes.
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>She mutters a name under her breath. It sounds like "Filthy Rich."
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>"Anyway, then you Execute. Carry the plan out, whether it's 'Wait until it's over and the authorities sound the All-Clear,' or 'Evacuate to the a safer location,' or 'Repel zomponies.'"
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>Your eyes fly open. "Wait a second, there's zomponies here?" "Zombies? Like, walking dead?" You look over at her. "No foolin'?"
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>She looks amused, and stops bouncing her ball. "No foolin'. Flim Flam brothers and their traveling medicine show last year. Their Mane and Tail Tonic had tana leave extract or something. It worked, just don't use it in a mortuary. Which is bad because it was the best mane shampoo I've ever had..." she looks irritated for a moment. "Dumb zomponies..."
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>How the HELL are those two brothers not dead or in jail yet? it's a mystery to you. >Thunder rumbles outside, and the sky abruptly darkens. Fire rains from the heavens. You see a small giggling pink pony bouncing by the window, apparently having the time of her life. A second later, you see another, and another, and then a veritable army of hundreds of identical pink, curly-maned ponies comes by, the fire passing harmlessly by them and through them.
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>You belatedly recognize the waittress from Sugarcube Corner. Behind them, a crab roughly the size of a small factory ambles past, with several identical pink ponies, a small purple-maned unicorn you recognize as the town librarian, a yellow pegasus, and the white unicorn pony who runs the clothing boutique riding it. She's sitting behind the head, apparently barking instructions to the crustacean.
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>Lyra gently closes your gaping jaw with a hoof.
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>You wonder, not for the first time, just what in the HELL is going on out there.
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>Three of the pink ponies appear at the window. "HEY LYRA, HEY NONNY!' they call in perfect unison, waving gaily. "How's it going? You guys okay in there?"
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>They seem utterly unfazed by the fact that you're both sitting on the ceiling.
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>"We're okay," Lyra calls back. "So what's going on out there?"
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>"Oh, you know, the usual," they shrug. "We're running a special at the store, the Free Foal Press got a new editor, escaped undead sorcerer from Tartarus is trying to take over the world, that kind of thing. No biggie. We should have it taken care of in a little bit." They look at you closely. "Hey, do you know you guys are on the ceiling? That looks like fun!"
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>"Yeah, it happened just little while ago," Lyra says.
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>"It's okay," you say nonchalantly. "We had a little problem with change falling out of my pockets, but other than that, it's been kind of fun."
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>Surprisingly enough, you realize you're not just acting. Sometime ago, the fear had finally evaporated, to be slowly replaced with growing wonder. And if Lyra is unconcerned by all of this, why should YOU be?
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>She's beside you, with you. Whatever's going on, as long as she's with you, you can handle it. You pull her in snugly against you, and she relaxes into your warmth.
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>"Oh yeah, we're having a 'Hey, We Stopped the Ancient Prophecy And Kept The Meanie Undead Sorcerer From Destroying The World' theme party after this," say the Pinkies in perfect unison. "You're invited, if you guys wanna come along. Everyone's invited!" She/they look off at something in the distance, and their eyes go starry.
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>"Oh--OH! We gotta go, there's giant cake golems coming over the hill! And they're CHOCOLATE! STAND BACK, GUYS! I'VE GOT THIS!" they yell. They look back at you. "I was made for this moment," they say with grim determination, smirking.
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>And with that, they're gone.
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>"Hold on," says Lyra. She disengages herself from your grip and trots across the ceiling toward the wall over the refrigerator. She hops "upward" and snags the handle of the freezer compartment, and then opens the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of soda.
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>You have NO idea how hooves can be so dextrous, even now.
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>"Catch!" it takes two tries for her to figure out the logistics of throwing something, since the change in gravity only seems to affect living things, not inanimate objects. But you finally catch first one bottle, and then another.
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>She deftly retrieves a couple of long bendy straws from a drawer, and drops back "down" onto the ceiling with them in her mouth. Trotting over to you, she gives you one, and you both open your sodas, carefully holding them "upside down" relative to you.
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>You stick your crazy straws into them and sip. Your eyes meet.
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>Smiling, you click your bottles together. "To us," you say.
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>"To us," she says, smiling. You sip your sodas, talking about nothing much.
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>An hour or so later, gravity abruptly reverses. Lyra catches you both with her magic just in time, lowering you both gently to the ground.
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>It's just another day in Equestria.
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>>Careful with that, ponies aren't metabolic garbage disposals like humans are. Lyra could probably nurse one Pabst all night and be super fucked up.
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>Be Lyra. And the goddesses must hate you.
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>You're face-down in your pillow. Your mouth tastes like cats have done their business in it.
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>And then they died there, and somepony buried them in your mouth.
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>Your head is spiinning. Your stomach is a sickly boiling pot of acid you could use to smelt mithril ore. You attempt to raise up, but your face is stuck to your pillow.
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"Auuuugh..." you moan.
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>You stick out a hoof and touch something...warm, smooth, slightly fuzzy. Oh. Right, Anon. Okay.
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>"Morning," you hear. Your head throbs with every word. You clap your hooves over your ears, which are flattened against your head in a desperate effort to keep out the noise.
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"Oh Luna...kill me, please," you moan.
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>"Hangover?" you hear. He sounds weirdly amused. Bastard.
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"YOU'RE BREATHING TOO LOUD!" you hiss, your voice muffled. 'STOP BREATHING!"
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>You stumble out of bed, the pillow still glued to your face, and stumble blindly into a wall headfirst. Oh, right, maybe you should have tried to pull it off before getting up. Just a thought.
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>You fall over. "Hold on," you hear. A second later, you feel hands grabbing the pillow, and it's gone. You blink, your eyes watering at the sudden glare.
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>It's actually fairly dark in the bedroom, but to your light-sensitive eyes, it's like staring into Celestia's sun, and it sends icicles of agony inro your head. Your stomach lurches.
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>You're not sure how you got here, but you're over the toilet and Anon is holding your mane away from your face while your body tries to rid itself of everything you've consumed in approximately the last six months.
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>You glance at the hideous mess (when in Tartarus did last eat carrots?) smell the stink of liquor and half-digested Neighponese food, and suddenly you're vomiting again. You finally finish and fall back onto the floor, moaning.
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>he offers you a glass of cold water, and you wash your mouth out and spit into the toilet.
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>You lie there against the porcelain, shivering, while Anon simply strokes your back and mane. It's soothing, almost enough to make you forget you're sicker than you've ever imagined it was possible for a pony to feel.
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"Ahh luna, I'm dead," you moan. "I'm dead and this is Tartarus..."
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>"You're not dead," says Anon. "You just wish you were. You're hung over. Like, epically hung over."
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"Nuh uh," you say, swallowing. "I've been hung over. This is like a punishment from the Goddesses. Oh god..." your stomach shifts queasily, in time with your screaming headache. Every muscle feels like it's been beaten individually with a hammer. Even your TEETH hurt.
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>And your horn...oh Celestia preserve you...
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>Anon disappears briefly. A minute later, he's back, with a glass of something. He hands you some pills. "Aspirin. Drink it with this. Slowly."
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>You dry-swallow the aspirin and then sip your drink. It's orange juice, it's ice-cold and sweet and...you detect just a touch of salt in it.
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>It's the most delicious thing you've ever tasted.
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>"Slowly," he says. "Don't bolt it or you'll lose it. Just sip it. It'll put some of your fluid and salt back. You're dehydrated."
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>you sit there on the bathroom floor, sipping your ice cold salted OJ for a few minutes, your headache slowly easing in slow increments. Your memory of last night is a blur.
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"What happened?" you ask.
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>"Before or after you climbed the table and started air-guitaring 'Goldfish Warning?'" he asks.
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"....uh...after?" You don't remember that. But.."I DO remember something--a fight?" You have vague memories of an argument with a very short pony.
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>"You got into a fight with a fire hydrant," says Anon. "You declared yourself the winner, and then you climbed on top of it and pronounced it the sovereign property of the nation of Heartstringia. Then you tried to take it home with you."
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>You still don't remember.
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"Oh maaaaan...what else?"
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>Anon ticks them off on his fingers.
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>"You also tried to tackle a tree, you climbed into a dumpster and declared your intention to live there, and then you tried to prove you could write your name in the snow.."
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"Oh luna..."
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>"And it turns out you totally can, which was...interesting, because you peed in an ice machine. Then you got your head stuck in a lampshade and panicked, leading to a fifteen minute chase through two stores and some mare's house..." He pauses. "I have pictures," he says, and you can hear the amusement in his voice.
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>You cradle your head in your hands, wishing you could melt into the floor.
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"H-how many?" you ask, shakily. "How many did I have?"
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>"Just the one," he says. "One Quadruppel."
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>No. It had to have been like a thousand. It had to have been gallons.
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"Nooooo..." you say.
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>"Yep," he says cheerfully. "Just the one. You ponies are lightweights. I drank like, six."
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>You look at him sullenly over your delicious glass of salty-sweet OJ. He has no right to look this good when you're dying here.
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"I hate you," you say darkly. "With lasers."
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>He chuckles. "I love you too. Now let's get some more fluids in you, sweetie."
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>it's a dead, do-nothing-and-recover kind of day.
by Rhorse
by Rhorse
by Rhorse
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