Suddenly, Fluttershy Part 2 (OLD)


                                            >That's kind of... Ew.

                                            "Hey, Fluttershy? You've uh... Got a bit of mucus... on your hoof."

                                            >You point to the offending appendage.

                                            >She looks down to where your finger is pointed, a curious expression adorning her face.

                                            >Her eyes momentarily widen in surprise.

                                            >"Oh my..."

                                            >Fluttershy looks back up at you, her lips curling into an embarresed smile.

                                            >"Um, I couldn't find any tissues after you had left... I didn't want to bother you at the time."

                                            >This causes you to shake your head and smile.

                                            "I know what you mean. Let me just tell you this, though: If you need something, just ask."

                                            >She simply smiles and nods.

                                            >You get up  from your crouched position and proceed to pick up the dishes.

                                            >"Do you uh, have a bathroom around here, Anon? I'd like to clean myself up, if it wouldn't be any trouble."

                                            >Now that's something you haven't considered yet; ponies needing to bathe.

                                            >Wait, does she have to pee like a living creature, too?

                                            >Nevermind that for now.

                                            >You put the still dirty dishes in the sink and walk to the door that leads out of the kitchen.

                                            >Turning towards Fluttershy, you motion over your shoulder with your hand.

                                            "Follow me, I'll show you."

                                            >It takes less than a minute to lead her down the hall to the bathroom.

                                            >When you both get there, you let Fluttershy in ahead of you.

                                            >You step in behind her and absentmindedly inspect your bathtub/shower combo.

                                            "You have running water back in your world, right?"

                                            >She responds with a nod.

                                            >"Yes, we do."

                                            >Time to give her a quick tour of the bathroom.

                                            "So, you can take a bath or shower in the tub over there. There's a toilet for... well, I think you'd know what a toilet is for. I don't have any other towells around, so you can just use mine on the rack over there."

                                            >After looking around and looking for anything you forgot to mention, you turn to leave.

                                            "That should be it. Remember, call me if you need anything."

                                            >You shut the door behind you.

                                            >What should you do now?

                                            >Your vacation ends tonight, and you'll have to get back to defending some of the most obvious criminals out there tomorrow.

                                            >Seriously, why don't you ever get an average blue collar worker that was obviously in the wrong place in the wrong time?

                                            >It dawns on you that you've been standing in front of the bathroom while you think.

                                            >It only took hearing the toilet seat being lifted up; and the sound of urine hitting water to realise it.

                                            >Guess ponies DO need to pee.

                                            >Well, you don't need to listen to THAT. You're getting out of here.

                                            >For a while, you debate on whether or not to rinse out your dishes; eventually you make the excuse that running water in the kitchen sink might affect the water in the shower.

                                            >You aren't completely sure about that, but hey, washing dishes is boring!

                                            >Remembering your plan from earlier, you go to investigate the internet to see if there are any new transpirings.

                                            >A few seconds later, you are in front of your computer looking over the thread.

                                            >It's on page eight, and nobody has posted for about an hour.

                                            >Maybe a bump will attract some extra attention?

                                            >Your IRC client bleeps.

                                            >That's convenient!

                                            >It's Sifraf.

                                            ---

                                            [7:45 PM] Sifraf: Hey


                                            [7:45 PM] You: Oh hey, I just got on.

                                            [7:45 PM] You: Any luck with your situation?


                                            [7:45 PM] Sifraf: Yeah. I made dinner and convinced her to watch a movie with me.


                                            [7:46 PM] You: One day at your house, and you're already inviting her to the movies, huh?


                                            [7:46 PM] Sifraf: You know I didn't mean it like that


                                            [7:46 PM] You: Haha, just messing with you a bit. If I'm going to be in a crazy situation like this, might as well have a bit of fun


                                            [7:47 PM] Sifraf: I guess so. Gotta keep spirits high, right?


                                            [7:47 PM] You: yeah


                                            [7:47 PM] Sifraf: So, what's Fluttershy doing?


                                            [7:47 PM] You: showering.

                                            [7:48 PM] You: And Twilight?


                                            [7:48 PM] Sifraf: Sleeping. She fell asleep near the end of the movie.


                                            [7:48 PM] You: I don't blame her; this whole ordeal has both of us drained.

                                            [7:49 PM] You: How long has she been up for?


                                            [7:49 PM] Sifraf: since she got here

                                            [7:49 PM] Sifraf: That was about 4 am.

                                            [7:49 PM] Sifraf: Idon't think she'll be waking up again tonight.


                                            [7:50 PM] You: probably not

                                            [7:50 PM] You: Hey, I've got work tomorrow. Do you have any plans or suggestions for what I should do with Fluttershy?

                                            [7:50 PM] You: I left her here for a few hours today, but work is a lot longer.


                                            [7:52 PM] Sifraf: How about letting her browse the web? If you're really worried, you could instal a web filter.


                                            [7:52 PM] You: I could do that.


                                            [7:53 PM] Sifraf: Maybe tell her a few good TV channels to watch. Animal planet might work.


                                            [7:53 PM] You: Sounds like a plan!

                                            ---

                                            >The sound of draining water echoes through your house.

                                            >Funny, you hadn't even heard Fluttershy fill up the tub; you must have been quite engrossed in your chat.

                                            ---

                                            [7:54 PM] Sifraf: Hey, do you mind if I ask something of you?


                                            [7:54 PM] You: Sure, go ahead


                                            [7:55] Sifraf: I want to help Twilight get home. I was hoping you could help me.


                                            [7:55 PM] You: I'm actually trying to do the same with Fluttershy. I can't say much right now, but I have a guy on the job.

                                            [7:55 PM] You: That makes me think. Why did you choose option two if you want to send her back?


                                            ---


                                            >It takes Sifraf a while to reply to your question, which makes it hard to tell if you are going to like the answer or not.

                                            >Eventually though, he replies.

                                            ---

                                            [8:01 PM] Sifraf: Well

                                            [8:01 PM] Sifraf: At first I thought it would be a good choice, I didn't realize the implications until it actually happened.


                                            [8:01 PM] You: Implications?


                                            [8:02 PM] Sifraf: Yes. When I was talking to Twilight earlier, she told me about when she was reading. She was looking for any explination for why she got here, or how she could get home.

                                            [8:03 PM] Sifraf: It made me realize that if it really was my fault that i brought her here, then I was the one responsible to help her get back.


                                            [8:03 PM] You: me and Fluttershy had almost the same discussion. I told her everything.

                                            [8:04 PM] You: Except for her being from a cartoon.


                                            [8:04 PM] Sifraf: Same here.

                                            [8:05 PM] Sifraf: She acted like she beleived me, but I'm not sure if she's suspicious.


                                            {8:05 PM] You: I'm not surprised. She's always on someone's case.


                                            [8:06 PM] Sifraf: Speaking of, did you actually choose FS in your post?


                                            [8:07 PM] You: Actually, no. I didn't even choose a pony!

                                            [8:07 PM] You: Which did you choose?


                                            [8:08 PM] Sifraf: I actually chose Fluttershy.

                                            [8:08 PM] Sifraf: funny cooincidence.


                                            [8:08 PM] You: I'll say.

                                            [8:09 PM] You: Well, whoever did the deliveries shouldn't look for a mailman job.


                                            [8:09 PM] Sifraf: lel


                                            ---

                                            >You hear your bathroom door open, and then a creak from down the hall.

                                            >Must be Fluttershy got done with her bath.

                                            >The creaking eventually gets closer, until it stops right outside your doorway.

                                            >Even though you know the identity of what was making the creaking, hearing something like that still kinda creeps you out.

                                            >You don't care how paranoid you are, you've seen enough horror movies to know where this shit goes... sometimes.

                                            >Swiveling around, you see, obiously, Fluttershy at your doorway.

                                            >Her mane is a bit out of place; still it must have dried. You couldn't really see if her coat was any different in this lighting.

                                            >You stifle a giggle at her messy fur.

                                            "Hey there, everything work out fine for you?"

                                            >"Oh, yes, everything was great. I was wondering though, do you have a hairbrush? I could only find a comb in the bathroom."

                                            >Fluttershy takes a few uneasy pokes at the carpet with her hoof.

                                            >"I mean, it's okay if you don't. I just thought I'd ask..."

                                            >You scratch your head in contemplation.

                                            >Hair is something you never really worried about. You just usually kept it short, and laid it down when it was wet.

                                            "I think I have one around here somewhere. I never really use it, though."

                                            >You get up from your seat and head for your dresser.

                                            >Rummaging through the drawers, you find many an interesting item.

                                            >Old cassete tapes... no, family photos... nope, Gramps' old revolver... not that either.

                                            >What's this?

                                            >You pull out a pair of black, lacy, female underwear.

                                            >Guess Dianne isn't coming back for these any time soon.

                                            >You toss them over to your waste basket.

                                            "Ah-ha! There it is!"

                                            >Out of the drawer, you pull a small, wodden handled brush.

                                            >You take a closer look.

                                            "Hm, I think this used to belong to my grandmother."

                                            >At least somebody-er pony is going to get some use out of it.


                                            >You hand the brush over to Fluttershy, who takes it into a single hoof.

                                            >Hooves. How the hell do they work?

                                            >"Thanks."

                                            >She quietly heads back to the bathroom.

                                            >You turn back to your computer.


                                            ---


                                            [8:08 PM] Sifraff: I'm surprised that no one else has found this yet.

                                            [8:09 PM] Sifraff: Guess we'll have to keep the thread up.

                                            [8:16 PM] Sifraf: Well, I also have work in the morning

                                            [8:16 PM] Sifraf: I can't think of much more to talk about atm, and I have to make some preperations for tomorrow.

                                            [8:16 PM] Sifraff: If something comes up, here's my E-mail, I don't feel safe giving out my real one, so I made a new account.

                                            [8:17 PM] Sifraf: Sifraf@gmail.com

                                            [8:17 PM] Sifraf: Seeya!


                                            [8:17 PM - Sifraf Has left]

                                            ---


                                            >You write down Sifraf's E-mail address on a peice of paper.

                                            >If he's gone, maybe it's about time to see if there's someone else on the thread who has gotten a pony.

                                            >As you skim through the thread, you see that only a few more posts have been made.

                                            >Two bumps and three updates.

                                            >Nothing much here.

                                            >Fuck it, you haven't played any PC games in a while, but what else is there to do?

                                            >It's not like you have a talking pony in your house right now.

                                            >You search through your library of games until you settle on one.

                                            >Fallout 3? It's been a long time since you've played that.

                                            >As you play, you laugh to yourself about the absurdity of the situation.

                                            >Fluttershy, one of the main characters of a cartoon that you've watched for roughly three years now, is in your house.

                                            >You've talked to her, you've touched her, hell, you even saw her ladybits earlier!

                                            >You had actually forgotten about that.

                                            >Shaking the memory off, you continue your trek across the virtual wasteland.

                                            >A raider begins to shoot at you from a few yards away.

                                            >It doesn't take long for you to find him, and aim your hunting rifle.

                                            >You set up your targeting plan, and press the confirmation key.

                                            >The scene plays out as you fire your rifle, and the raiders head turns into a mix of red paste and skull fragments.

                                            >There is a gasp from your doorway.

                                            >Where the gasp eminates from, stands Fluttershy.

                                            >Her face has turned a shade of green.

                                            >You dash out of your chair to get the wastebasket, but it's too late.

                                            >She pukes where she stands.


                                            >It takes you about thirty minutes for you to clean up Yellow Horse's vomit.

                                            >You think you counted about five appologies in that timeframe.

                                            >After about the fifth one, you told Fluttershy to go wash her face.

                                            >She somberly did as she was suggested, and went back to the bathroom.

                                            >Finally, you soak up all of the puke from your carpet; if you're lucky, nothing too dificult will be thrown your way at the firm tomorrow.

                                            >If you can get home earlier, you can clean the carpet more thouroughly.

                                            >Yeah, like that's going to happen.

                                            >Your job really sucks sometimes.

                                            >With the pukey towel in the washer, you head to your living room. Fluttershy is sitting on the couch; hear head is resting on her forelegs and she's looking at your TV.

                                            >This gives you an idea.

                                            >It's only about nine o'clock; you have time for one last activity before bed.

                                            "Hey, you wanna watch a movie before bed? I thought you might like to see some human media."

                                            >She lifts her head and looks over your way; her eyes just a bit less lively than usual.

                                            >"U-um, sure, That would be... Nice..."

                                            >You notice a bit of nervousness in her current expression. Is this from the throw up incident?

                                            >Deciding it best to just act like nothing happened, you search for a movie that would be more family friendly.

                                            >Family friendly... this gives you a hunch.

                                            >While you were cleaning up, you explained to her why she just saw some guy's head get blown off.

                                            >You had told her that it was a video game, nothing real was in it. Another thing you had to explain was why you were playing it.

                                            >Something that thinks that you might one day kill them usually doesn't stick around too long.

                                            "Don't worry, this movie doesn't have any blood in it. It's appropriate for all ages."

                                            >She lets loose a deep sigh of releif.

                                            >You pop the movie in and take a seat next to the yellow pone.

                                            >The movie ends at about a quarter to eleven; and you're both equally drowsy.

                                            >You yawn out a sentance.

                                            "You can use my bed when you're ready. I'm too tired to move from this couch."

                                            >Fluttershy is too sleepy to even argue, so she just nods and heads for your room.

                                            >You grab a blanket from under the couch, turn off the light, and fall asleep within minutes.


                                            >Today is slooooooow.

                                            >Right now, you're just sitting at your desk doing paperwork.

                                            >You look at the clock on your desk.

                                            >3:11 PM, goddamn this day is SLOW.

                                            >Almost everyone else in the office has a case but you.

                                            >They say that you're one of the best lawyers in the office, what the hell is going on here?

                                            >A few more hours pass, it is now 5:34 PM.

                                            >Your phone rings.

                                            >YES! FINALLY!

                                            >After regaining your composiure, you answer the phone.

                                            >You give out your standard business greeting and wait for your potential client to respond.

                                            >"Hello, is your refridgerator running?"

                                            "Yeah yeah buddy, why don't you take that pone of yours and shove it up your ass?"

                                            >You hang up without a second word.

                                            >It's 6 PM now. Nothing else has happened.

                                            >Fuck it, you're checking out early today.

                                            >After you lock the door to your office, you head for your car.

                                            >The drive home is uneventful, with thankfuly no crashes this time.

                                            >You enter your house and plop your keys on the kitchen table.

                                            "Hey Flutters, you still here?"

                                            >You hardly hear her faint voice from inside your living room.

                                            >"I'm in here, Anon!"

                                            >As you enter the living room, you see that the TV is on.

                                            >It was so much easier to let her watch, knowing that your cable plan didn't include The Hub.

                                            >She's laying on the couch covered in a blanket.

                                            >She still somehow has a fever today.

                                            >That doesn't even make any sense!

                                            >You're pretty sure you don't get fevers from colds.

                                            >The only thing you can think of is that ponies work differently, or some other shit.

                                            >Or that she's from a fictional world where cartoon gags happen sometimes.

                                            >As you pass by, you reach out your hand and feel her forehead without really thinking.

                                            >Fluttershy is surprised at first, but calms down soon enough.

                                            "Looks like the fever's still just as strong as this mroning."

                                            >"I-I seem to have a weaker immune system than other ponies that I know..."

                                            >Her eyes are closed, and she's leaning into your hand.

                                            >You go to pull back, but as you do, her head follows suit.

                                            >Ah fuck it, you'll humor her for a little bit.

                                            >You move your hand over to her left ear, and begin to scratch behind it.

                                            >She moves her head to get your hands into the position she wants.

                                            >This goes on for about a minute, then you pull your hand away.

                                            >When she realizes that your hand is no longer there, Fluttershy snaps out of her trance.

                                            >Once she realizes what she was doing, she lets out an embarrased giggle.

                                            >"You're home earlier than you said, Anon."

                                            >You take a seat next to her on the couch and continue the conversation while looking at what's on TV.

                                            "Yeah, it was a slow day today. No clients, only a prank call. What did you do while I was gone?"

                                            >Fluttershy wipes her nose with a tissue as she responds.

                                            >"Not very much, I've been resting, mostly."

                                            >She punctuates her sentance with a small sneeze.

                                            "Maybe once you get better, and I find you some comfortable winter clothing, we could do something outside."

                                            >You still feel bad that she's stuck here with nearly nothing to do.

                                            >Out of the corner of your eye, you notice her let loose a small shiver.

                                            >Fucking fevers.

                                            >Don't certain painkillers help with those?

                                            >But fevers are the body's way of fighting the germs in you...

                                            >Would that even work on a pony?


                                            >"What the hell", you decide, you used to take painkillers all the time when you had a fever; you always got better, too.

                                            "One second, I'll be right back."

                                            >You get up from your couch and head for your medicine cabinet.

                                            >Once you get there, you dig through your various medicines that you've accumulated throughout the years.

                                            >In the middle of the cluster of bottles, you find a bottle of Tylenol.

                                            >You take out a single pill and grab a glass, filling it from the tap.

                                            >Ariving back at your living room, you hold out the pill and glass to Fluttershy.

                                            "Here, this should help with a few things."

                                            >She eyes the pill curiously.

                                            >"Do you think this will really help...?"

                                            >You nod in affirmation.

                                            "Always helped me. All it really is is just a painkiller; it helps other things, too."

                                            >She takes the pill out of your hand along with the water.

                                            >The pill looks relativley small in her hoof compared to the comically oversized one she gave Celestia's pet phoenix in "A Bird In the Hoof".

                                            >Will she need a higher dose?

                                            >Nah, better not risk it for now.

                                            >Fluttershy swallows the pill with a few mouthfulls of water.

                                            >She hands the glass bakc to you and you take it back to the kitchen.


                                            >The need to use the bathroom suddenly takes you.

                                            >You haven't gone since this morning, holy hell.

                                            >YOU REALLY HAVE TO FUCKING PEE.

                                            >It seems to take forever for you to get to the bathroom; but you finally make it there.

                                            >Sweet releif.

                                            >After your usual routine of flushing and washing your hands, you open the door and step out into the hallway.

                                            >A faint ringing makes it's way to your ears.

                                            "What is that...?"

                                            >You follow the sound to your bedroom.

                                            >it's comming form inside your desk.

                                            >You open it up and see on of your cell phones ringing and vibrating.

                                            >Oh great, what's going on now...?

                                            >Sometimes you regret your seedy activities with the local drug dealers; but hey, it pays the bills.

                                            >Quite a bit actually.

                                            >You answer the call.

                                            "Yeah?"

                                            >"Hey bro, it's me."

                                            >It's only Troy. You'd almost forgot you called him!

                                            "Oh, hey! You get any word on any odd activity from that thread?"

                                            >"Nope. Just as I said, I can't do anything with an archive; it's not the same website."

                                            >You sigh. Yeah, it was a one in a billion chance of him finding anything, but it was still disappointing.

                                            "I didn't think there was too much of a chance, but thanks anyway."

                                            >"No problem."

                                            >He hangs up.

                                            >Damn.

                                            >You don't have any more ideas as to what you could do right now.

                                            >Guess you'll just do something with Fluttershy.

                                            >Now what kind of non-sexual activity could you do with a sick pony?


                                            >You look over your room for ideas.

                                            >Your eyes fall upon your bookshelf, which is filled to the brim with all sorts of books from previous years in your life.

                                            >Memories come from the back of your mind from when you were just a kid; your mom would always read to you when you were sick in bed.

                                            >Maybe there's something in here that the pony on your couch would enjoy.

                                            >Eventually you settle on a book you think she'd like.

                                            >It's fairly short; around two hundered pages.

                                            >You return to your living room with the book under your arm.

                                            >Apparently Fluttershy got tired of whatever was on TV; she's just sitting there now.

                                            "I thought you might like to hear a story. My mother used to read to me when I was sick; I thought you might like to give it a try."

                                            >You realize that she's probably more than able to read by herself, but hey, sometimes listening to a story is more enjoyable.

                                            >Not to mention, this way you don't have to feel like you're leaving her all alone.

                                            >"I think that would be enjoyable; I could always read it myself if you're too busy..."

                                            >Sitting next to her on the couch again, you reply.

                                            "Not at all, I'm doing this because I want to."

                                            >You open up the book, and begin to read aloud.


                                            >As you read, Fluttershy moves in closer to you and gets comfortable.

                                            >She's close, but not quite close enough to be making physical contact with you.

                                            >Minutes go by as you read her the tale written in the pages of the novel; she listens intently the whole time.

                                            >Eventually, you find a spot that would be good to leave off at for the night.

                                            >After bending the page over, you close the book.

                                            "That concludes our reading session for today; I expect your written reports handed in on my desk by Thursday."

                                            >Fluttershy giggles softly.

                                            >You set the book on the arm of the couch and turn to her.

                                            "How are you feeling? Your fever doesn't seem to be bothering you as much."

                                            >She smiles as she replies.

                                            >"Yes, I do. I think the medicine worked; the reading was relaxing, too."

                                            >You always liked to think you had a good reading voice; it's nice to hear that someone enjoys it.

                                            >It's only about half past seven now, and you're running out of ideas of what to do together.

                                            >You were thinking of checking the thread and chat room, but you've been gone since about 6 AM today until 6 PM, so that means that you've left Fluttershy alone here for twelve hours.

                                            >Was she the type to get lonley?

                                            >You're not too sure about that; she IS pretty shy, after all.

                                            >Either way, you're sure that if you ended up in an unfamiliar place, you think you'd be a bit uneasy being alone for that long.

                                            >Dinner and a conversation might be a good start.


                                            >What to make...

                                            >You're kind of in the mood for mexican food tonight.

                                            >It's late, but you think you have a bit of time to make the food before bed.

                                            >There's only one problem, your recipe involves meat.

                                            >Good thing you have a handy tool called "The internet".

                                            >You quickly leave for your PC, telling Fluttershy that dinner was on the way.

                                            >Waking the computer from sleep mode, you un-minimize your browser.

                                            >There are also a few IRC messages, you'll have to check them later.

                                            >You're still on the story thread. It hasn't died yet.

                                            >Deciding to check it later, you look for a vegitarian recipee for Enchiladas.

                                            >It doesn't take long to find one that you can make with the ingredients available.

                                            >Coincidentally, you had bought black beans about a week ago for a different purpose.

                                            >You had already picked up some other ingredients when you went to the store yesterday; not considering Fluttershy's diet at the time.

                                            >To be honest, at that time you were half-expecting that you were just crazy; and that you might just return home to an empty house.

                                            >You return to the living room to announce tonight's dinner.

                                            "I'm gonna make something called "enchaladas" for dinner tonight. Not sure if you've ever tried them back in your world, but I can say that they taste great; to me at least."

                                            >"Yes, we have those; but I've actually never tried them myself."

                                            >You continue to the kitchen, talking to her on the way.

                                            "It should be ready in about... I actually don't know, I only skimmed the recipe, but I'd estimate forty minutes to an hour."

                                            >You are walking behind your couch when you see Fluttershy's head pop up from the other side.

                                            >"Would you uhm... like some help?"

                                            >With a smile, you reply.

                                            "I'll be fine, thanks. I hope you don't take this offensively, but I don't want to risk having you around the food while you're sick."

                                            >"Oh, okay..."

                                            >Her head slowly lowers back below the back of the couch as you resume your walk to the kitchen.


                                            >It takes exactly forty minutes to get everything made.

                                            >When you believe everything is sufficiently cooled, you go to the doorway and call Fluttershy to the table.

                                            >You dish up both plates by the time she arrives; she sits down at the table.

                                            >Putting a plate of food at both of your seats, you sit down and begin to dig in.

                                            >As you eat, you decide to start up a conversation.

                                            "So uh..."

                                            >Shit, what do you talk about?

                                            >You catch yourself staring into space.

                                            >"Staring into space" also includes unknowingly looking at Fluttershy's flank.

                                            >Flank... hold on, that's something to talk about!

                                            >Okay, that sounded way weirder than you meant it to.

                                            "So, those marks that you have on your... flank? What are they?"

                                            >You know damn well what they are, but she doesn't know that, so it makes for a good way to get to know each other.

                                            >"Oh, this?"

                                            >She points to where her cutie mark is.

                                            >You nod.

                                            >"That's my cutie mark. It's a symbol for what I do best."

                                            >Keeping up the act, you ask her what that is.

                                            >"Well, it happened back when I was little. You'd never guess, but back then I was very shy."

                                            >You stifle a giggle at that.

                                            >"I was in summer flight camp at the time..."

                                            >You two eat your dinner as she tells the tale of how she got her cutie mark.

                                            >She goes on to tell you of how she fell down from the clouds, and discovered the land below.

                                            >The story ends with how she found out she could communicate with animals on a different level by coaxing them out of hiding.

                                            "Wow, sounds like it's a good thing your friend managed to pull of that 'Sonic Rainboom', huh?"

                                            >"You're right. If it weren't for Rainbow Dash, I might have not gotten it!"

                                            >Taking another bite of food, you keep the conversation going.

                                            "Though I can't quite imagine you singing..."

                                            >You smirk.

                                            "Maybe you'd like to show me sometime."

                                            >An embarrassed smile spreads across her face, along with a light blush.

                                            >"I-I... don't really like singing in front of others..."

                                            >You knew that would get her.


                                            >Dinner ends shortly after Fluttershy's cutie mark story.

                                            >You clean off both plates, then lean on the sink; thinking to yourself.

                                            >It's really hard to think of things to do with Fluttershy.

                                            >The fact that she's sick and it's late makes it even harder.

                                            >You look out of the window over the sink.

                                            "Wow..."

                                            >The night sky is filled with what can only be described as millions of small, twinkling spots of light.

                                            >In the middle of all those stars is a full moon.

                                            >This doesn't happen nearly enough lately; it's been one of the cloudiest winters you've ever been through.

                                            >You don't know how long it's been since you've seen this many stars, not to mention a moon, too.

                                            >This is something you need to see from outside.

                                            >Checking the thermometer outside of the window, you see it says that it is about negative eight degrees Celsius.

                                            >Heading to your closet in the living room, you get out your coat and start heading for your back door.

                                            >Your plans are interrupted when you hear a soft voice call out your name.

                                            >"Where are you going, Anon?"

                                            >Right, Fluttershy.

                                            >Hey, maybe she'd like to see this!

                                            >No, wait, she doesn't have any winter clothes.

                                            >Wait, there's something that might work...

                                            "Hold on, I'll tell you in just a second."

                                            >Without another word, you head to your basement.

                                            >You find it in your old boxes of clothes.

                                            >There it is, the coat you wore when you were about nine or ten years old.

                                            >Once you are back upstairs, you give the coat to Fluttershy.

                                            "Here, put this on, I want to show you something outside."

                                            >She gets up, and begins to puts on the coat.

                                            >"What did you want to show me...?"

                                            "You'll see once you are clothed enough to go outside."

                                            >Soon she starts having trouble with the zipper.

                                            "Here, let me help you with that. This damn thing never zipped up too well."

                                            >You lean in closer and take the zipper in your fingers.

                                            >After a brief struggle, you get the coat zipped up; Fluttershy gives you a thankful smile.

                                            >You pause to look at her. This doesn't look like enough clothing.

                                            >She shifts uncomfortably under your vision.

                                            "This still doesn't look complete, hold on."

                                            >You head back to your bedroom and fetch a snow cap and an old scarf that you never use.

                                            >Once you return, you wrap the scarf around Fluttershy's neck, and put the snow cap on over her ears.

                                            >You don't know why you didn't just let her do it herself.

                                            >There's only one last thing she needs.

                                            >You're pretty sure that even if Fluttershy was wearing horse shoes of some kind, they wouldn't protect from the cold.

                                            >Out of your closet, you grab your snow boots.

                                            >They look like they'll fit her just fine.

                                            >The only problem is that there are only two, and she has four hooves.

                                            >You have an idea on how you might be able to slip by that problem, though.

                                            "Here, put these on your back hooves."

                                            >You set the boots in front of her.

                                            >Wordlessly, she puts one boot on each of her back hooves; she ties them herself.

                                            "Alright, looks like we're ready!"

                                            >Fluttershy walks up to you.

                                            >"Um... okay..."

                                            >You lead her to the back door of your house.

                                            >Before you open the door, though , you stop her.

                                            "I only have the one pair of boots, so I was thinking I could get you something to support yourself on once we get in the snow.

                                            >Fluttershy nods.

                                            >"Yes, I could do that."

                                            "Wait here real quick."

                                            >You head outside of your garage, onto your snow-covered patio.

                                            >Once you scour your surroundings for something that Fluttershy could support herself on, you remember that you packed up pretty much everything in your yard except a random two-by-four.

                                            >Damn! What do you do now?


                                            >You spend at least two minutes thinking of something she could use.

                                            >After many minutes of brainstorming, you realize that the answer is right in front of you.

                                            >Or rather, IS you.

                                            >You head back inside, and stop in front of Fluttershy.

                                            "Well, I couldn't manage to find anything of use. I have an idea, though. You don't have to do it if you don't want to; but I was thinking you could hop up on my shoulders."

                                            >She just gives you a questioning stare.

                                            "It's okay, I'm sure I can just find something in the hou-"

                                            >You are cut off by Fluttershy's quiet voice.

                                            >"N-no... We could do that."

                                            >It takes a second to decipher what Fluttershy even said; it was too low to be clearly audible.

                                            "Okay then, this shouldn't be too difficult."

                                            >You motion for her to follow you to the entrance of the door.

                                            >There's an awning over the door outside, so you step outside and wait for Fluttershy to catch up.

                                            >After stepping outside, you crouch down, interlocking your fingers.

                                            "Climb aboard! Tickets are twenty bucks per passenger."

                                            >She is about to climb onto your fingers, then stops.

                                            >"Um... bucks? Do you mean like... with hooves?"

                                            >Different currency, right. Damn, this takes some getting used to.

                                            "It's a different name we use for money here."

                                            >"Oh."

                                            >With that, you feel a boot on your intertwined hands.

                                            >Then another.

                                            >She begins to loose her balance, falling forward onto your head.

                                            >You do your best to stay stable, letting her adjust herself accordingly.

                                            >Soon enough, Fluttershy is sitting on your shoulders, back hooves hanging next to both sides of your neck.

                                            >Her front hooves are resting on your collar bone; you can feel her barrel against the back of your head.

                                            >Everything seems to be in order, so it's time to head out.

                                            "All aboard!"

                                            >You should have been a conductor.

                                            >Goofiness aside, you step out from under the awning into the snow.


                                            >You carry Fluttershy out into your yard.

                                            >Soon, you come to a stop in front of a low hanging tree.

                                            >After turning around to get a clear view of the sky, you look up.

                                            "Look at the sky."

                                            >Fluttershy does as she's told; looking upwards while holding on to your neck for support.

                                            >"Oh my...! It's beautiful!"

                                            >The stars and moon are still just as clear as they were a few minutes ago.

                                            >"Who raises the moon here, Anon?"

                                            >You never thought about telling her about how the sun and moon work here on Earth.

                                            "Technically, gravity 'raises' it. In all actuality, the moon orbits around the Earth."

                                            >Fluttershy gasps.

                                            >"Really?"

                                            >Remember, play dumb.

                                            "Yeah, does your moon not orbit by it's self?"

                                            >You can feel her shift on your shoulders.

                                            >"No, it doesn't... What about your sun?"

                                            "That is what we orbit around. Not to mention Earth it's self is spinning a little over one thousand miles per hour. That's how the sun rises and falls for us. I forget the rest."

                                            >"Wow..."

                                            >You and Fluttershy spend a while just looking at the night sky together; making light conversation during that time.

                                            >Your strength waivers for just a moment, and you wobble backwards.

                                            >Regaining your footing a moment later, you hear Fluttershy make a surprised screech.

                                            >Her front legs briefly leave your neck, then come back, wrapping around your head.

                                            >They are covering your eyes.

                                            "Agh!"

                                            >"Something's got a hold of me!"

                                            >You stumble, her grip tightens.

                                            >Then her back legs slip from your shoulders, only to come back, wrapped around the bottom half of your face.

                                            "Flphershy! Mph! Leff guhff!"

                                            >You can't tell her to let go, her legs are covering your mouth.

                                            >This is worse than that time you were mugged by that weird midget dude in Vegas!

                                            >Okay, nothing will ever be as weird or traumatizing as that night.

                                            >"Anon, help!"

                                            >Maybe if a certain SOMEBODY let go of your eyes for a second, you could...

                                            >Fluttershy's death grip on your face combined with her freaking out disorients you; making you loose your balance and fall.

                                            >You fall back, Fluttershy's grip only able to keep you up for a second before slipping off of your head.

                                            >"AAAH!"

                                            >Great, now you're laying on the ground, don't know up from down, the water was probably left running, and you hear sobbing above you.

                                            >Your eyes are squeezed shut at the moment; once you are re-oriented, you slowly open them.

                                            >In the tree above you, you see Fluttershy flailing her legs around.

                                            >With the help of the moonlight above, you see that the coat you gave her has caught on a branch.

                                            >What a night.

                                            >The coat wasn't a perfect fit, still a bit big for her; but because of this, the branch must have been able to slip all the way through to the collar.

                                            >You get up and look at the pony in the tree.

                                            >She's still flailing her legs; her wings are restricted by the jacket.

                                            >Without saying anything, you rest a hand on the top of her head.

                                            >This makes her freeze up instantly.

                                            >Her eyes shoot open, pupils shrunken to a pin prick.

                                            >"A-anon?"

                                            >You can't help it. You burst out laughing.


                                            >You speak in between your laughs.

                                            "Fluttershy... It's only a tree!"

                                            >Another bout of laughter overtakes you.

                                            >"A... a tree...?"

                                            >She looks over her shoulder, and spots the branch she is hanging on.

                                            >"Oh..."

                                            >She lets loose a sigh of relief.

                                            >You still can't contain your laughter; Fluttershy looks over and notices this.

                                            >She's starting to sweat and hyperventilate.

                                            >Shit bro, better start calming your laughing ass.

                                            >By the time you stop, she's covering her eyes; unable to run away from your outburst.

                                            >Should you feel bad for doing that? You didn't have much control there.

                                            >You were never much for hiding your feelings, anyway; so it makes it quite hard dealing with a personality like this.

                                            >It makes you thankful that no rabid fans know you have this pony here; especially after this little happening.

                                            >Beaten within an inch of your life covered in cheeto dust and grease is not how you like spending your day.

                                            >Alright, you should probably get Fluttershy out of this fucking tree.

                                            >You go over a mental checklist for helping a pony out of a tree.

                                            >Step One: If you were just laughing at their misfortune, apologize; comfort if necessary.

                                            >You pat her on the shoulder.

                                            >In response, Fluttershy tries to shrug it off.

                                            >You put your hand back at your side.

                                            >Well shit, didn't she usually like this sort of thing?

                                            >Doing your best to put on a gentle smile, you begin.

                                            "Uhh... Look... I really didn't mean to laugh at you. It's just, we all make mistakes, right?"

                                            >She doesn't respond.

                                            >This isn't working.

                                            >Maybe you should move on to Step Two: Actually remove the pony from the fucking tree, you dipshit.

                                            >Deciding to just take a direct approach, you grab her by both sides, and slide her off of the branch with relative ease.

                                            >Your arms strain under her weight; and as soon as you put her on the ground, she sets off at full gallop towards the house.

                                            "Fluttershy, wait!"

                                            >Too late, she's already made her way into the house.

                                            "Well... Shit."

                                            >It's gonna be one of those nights.


                                            >Well, this is no good.

                                            >You didn't expect her to take it this hard!

                                            >You hear the door to the garage shut.

                                            >Now that Fluttershy is out of sight, you realize just how out of hand this could get if you don't catch up.

                                            >Not that she needs supervision, but if she ends up running away from your house, then gets seen... Well, you know the rest.

                                            >Trekking through the snow takes you a shorter amount of time than usual; your worry getting the better of you.

                                            >Once you reach the garage, you run up to the door to the front yard, open it, and step outside.

                                            >She's not here.

                                            >It's too early to tell if that's a bad thing or not.

                                            >You don't even bother to lock your door as you rush back inside your house.

                                            "Fluttershy! Where are you?!"

                                            >All that comes from your question is the slight ringing in your ears.

                                            >You run through your house, looking in every room that it contains.

                                            >Fluttershy is nowhere to be found.

                                            >You  pace around your living room, pulling out your hair as you mutter to yourself.

                                            "Shit... shit... Aw FUCK..."

                                            >The only other place she can be is outside.

                                            >You rush for the door, but are stopped by a thought.

                                            >What if she somehow comes back and you aren't here?

                                            >Taking this thought to mind, you scrawl a quick note with an  apology and put it on the table.

                                            >With that, you run outside.

                                            >If there was one thing you were thankful for, it was not having many neighbors.

                                            >You run around your block; even parts beyond that for at least half an hour.

                                            >With a defeated sigh, you turn back in the direction of home.

                                            >You haphazardly toss your coat on the couch, along with your other winter clothes, leaving you in your underwear and T-shirt.

                                            >It's 10:03 PM. You don't normally sleep this early, but you're fucking drained right now.

                                            >Looks like you'll be able to use your bed again; that's an upside, right?

                                            >You stumble your way to your bedroom; ready to just end this day.

                                            >Grabbing at the covers of your unmade bed, you pull them back.

                                            >Underneath them is a sleeping yellow pegasus.

                                            >Your right eyelid twitches.

                                            >You really need to stop panicking so easily.

                                            >The last time you panicked this bad was when you were up for four days straight and thought the UPS guy was a secret agent keeping tabs on you.

                                            >Yeah, you try not to speak of the dark times.

                                            >After the biggest anti-climax of your life, you clear your couch of the items you put on it, flop down, and go to sleep.


                                            >...

                                            >You're way too wired to sleep right now.

                                            >You laid down an hour ago, and you haven't even dosed off once.

                                            >What usually helps in this kind of a situation?

                                            >Tea... A book... counting sheep...

                                            >Alcohol...

                                            >Should you?

                                            >Fuck it. You're too tired and grumpy to care right now.

                                            >You stumble to the kitchen, and open your cabinet that holds a few different ingredients.

                                            >There it is.

                                            >A bottle of whiskey that you used to make... what was it?

                                            >Your mind is too foggy to remember right now.

                                            >You take out a shot glass; a gift that a relative gave to you at a Christmas party because they couldn't think of ideas.

                                            >Can't say you blame them; it's hard to think of gifts for people you've hardly met.

                                            >Funniest part about it is that you weren't a drinker.

                                            >You still aren't a heavy drinker now, but you feel like you need to calm down.

                                            >...

                                            >How much have you drank?

                                            >Your clouded judgement tells you to just close the bottle and head back to the couch.

                                            >So you do just that; at least you think so.

                                            >...

                                            >"Anon?!"

                                            >WAITWAT.

                                            >You shoot up out of your prone position.

                                            >Well, you try to, but you end up hitting your head on the underside of your kitchen table.

                                            "GAH! Fuuuck..."

                                            >Your head is killing you right now.

                                            >"Anon... are... are you okay?"

                                            >All you can manage is a groan.

                                            >You rub your head, doing your best to alleviate the hangover.

                                            >Note to self: Fuck drinking.

                                            >You slowly turn your head, careful to not agitate it any more than you already have.

                                            >It's Fluttershy; she looks like she's worried sick.

                                            "Fl...Fluttershy?"

                                            >It hurts to speak.

                                            >"What happened, Anon? You were passed out under the table! I didn't know if you were okay or not..."

                                            >The talking... Make it stop...

                                            >You formulate your best response.

                                            "Yeah... It's too long a story to tell in my current state."

                                            >You do your best to get out from under the table, and stand up.

                                            >The room spins.

                                            >You aren't sure what time it is; good thing you have flexible hours at work.

                                            "So..."

                                            >You pause, composing yourself.

                                            "You want some breakfast?"


                                            >You are "late" for work.

                                            >By that, you mean that you are past the time you set for yourself to be at the firm.

                                            >Normally, you leave at six in the morning. It's half past seven right now.

                                            >Fluttershy agreed to breakfast, but was still worried about just why in the hell you were passed out under the kitchen table.

                                            >You told her that you'd tell her what happened once breakfast was ready.

                                            "Any ideas on what you'd like to eat?"

                                            >"I'm sure that anything you choose will be good."

                                            >You used to just have a piece of toast in the morning, or nothing at all; it wasn't until Fluttershy came around that you started making bigger meals for breakfast.

                                            >Eventually you think of a good meal.

                                            >A few minutes pass, and you have everything you need to make some omelettes.

                                            >You never had a chance to make them much; or the motivation for that matter.

                                            >It doesn't take you long before you have two eggs whipped and in the pan.

                                            >Next, you add some green peppers and onions, topped off with some shredded cheese.

                                            >Finally you put the lid over the pan.

                                            >While that cooks, you put two slices of bread in the toaster.

                                            "So, are you feeling any better today, Fluttershy?"

                                            >You look over to her, she's awkwardly standing in the middle of the kitchen with nothing to really do until the food's ready.

                                            >"I feel a lot better this morning; thanks for asking."

                                            >That's good. Now you know she's not going to just drop dead from being sick.

                                            >Y'know, she's always offering to help out, maybe you could give her a task to help you today.

                                            "Hey Fluttershy? Do you think you could take the toast out of the toaster and put some jam on both slices once they're ready?"

                                            >She gives a gentle nod.

                                            >"Okay."

                                            >Soon enough, the bread pops out of the toaster; now slightly darker and crunchier.

                                            >Fluttershy retrieves the two slices and puts one on each of your plates.

                                            >She takes them to the table to apply the jam.

                                            >You check under the pan lid.

                                            >This one's done.

                                            >You take the spatula and fold it over; then walk over and put it on Fluttershy's plate.

                                            >Yours is the same, but with sausage and ham added to the mix.

                                            >"This smells great, Anon!"

                                            >Her comment makes you smile.

                                            "Thanks, I try my best."

                                            >Your food is ready, and you take it to the table.

                                            >Fluttershy seems to have waited for you to arrive before eating.

                                            >Well, that was nice, you guess.

                                            >You never really cared much for table manners.

                                            "Alright, let's dig in!"

                                            >Both of you begin eating; Fluttershy compliments you on your cooking after the first bite.

                                            >Soon enough, Fluttershy asks you about your earlier situation.

                                            >"I hope I'm not prying too much Anon... But what happened this morning? You had me really worried... Are you sick?"

                                            >Well, now that you've been awake for a while, your hangover has settled down a bit and you can actually tell her.

                                            "I got drunk."

                                            >Yeah, simple as that.

                                            >"D-drunk? What does that mean...? Do you need a doctor?"

                                            >Wow, they don't have alcohol where she's from?

                                            >Jesus.

                                            "Nothing bad, it just means that I drank too much of a drink that clouds your mind, and gives you headaches once it wears off."

                                            >It's a simple explanation, but good enough in your book.

                                            >"That seems kind of... dangerous..."

                                            >You should have known she'd be one of THOSE types.

                                            "Well, it can be if you're not careful. Especially if you're driving."

                                            >Her eyes widen just a bit, you can imagine that she's playing out the scene in her head.

                                            >When she replies, her voice is a bit shaky.

                                            >"D-do you drink it... often?"

                                            >You shake your head.

                                            "No; this is the first time in about five years I've drank this much in one go. I only did it because I was having trouble sleeping after what happened last night."

                                            >Fluttershy cocks her head.

                                            >"Last night?"

                                            >Oh yeah, you guys never talked about what happened last night.

                                            >You explain to her what happened after she ran back inside the house.

                                            >"Oh no...! I was hiding my head under the pillow, I must not have heard you; I didn't know you would spend all that time looking for me..."

                                            >She hangs her head.

                                            >Jesus, will you ever be able to go one day without making this pony upset?

                                            "Hey, hey, it's alright; it was mostly my fault. I panicked too fast, and didn't think about what I was doing. In fact, I should be apologizing."

                                            >You clear your throat.

                                            "That was another thing. Sorry for my outburst last night, I didn't consider that you might not like it..."

                                            >Fluttershy has a small smile on her face.

                                            >"I forgive you, Anon. You couldn't have known."

                                            >Actually, you kind of did...

                                            >You smile.

                                            "Thanks."