Awakening Pink

by Masterweaver

First published 29th of October, 2012

Waking up as Pinkie Pie. Not the usual way things go....

My name is Reid X.P., and one day I woke up in a body that wasn't my own. That was a bit unusual. Even more unusual was the fact the body was pink. And female. I mean, I'd been a guy before!

Oh, also, I was apparently a pony.

Thus began my epic adventures with the body of Pinkie Pie, which would involve cross country trips, dancing librarians, and possibly the apocalypse. Trust me, waking up as a fictional character soon became the least of my worries...

Picture by Frankier the Seventy Seventh. Part of the Becoming Ponies collaboration.

Green Sheets and Fuchsia Mane

Ah, the joys of waking up.

First comes the slow, dreary process of shaking off my sleepiness and convincing my body it's actually awake. Then there's that desperate scramble to memorize what parts of my dream I liked and wanted to write down into a story. That's always fun. Oh, then I glance at the clock to see if I've woken up too early, again. Usually I go back to sleep after that but sometimes I just groan and kick off the sheets.

But on this day... something was a bit different. For starters, I woke up instantly, even though it was four thirty A.M.

"Huh. That's... and my voice?"

I brought a hand to my throat, before realizing that said appendage felt a bit off. So I went about extruding it from under the bedsheets for examination. This took about, oh, ten seconds? Let's call it ten seconds. Eventually, I was able to focus on the end of my arm.

It... kinda just ended. Also, it was pink and fuzzy.

"Okay, that's a bit weird. As is my voice, apparently." I twisted my arm around to view it entirely, noting that there seemed to be a second wrist where my elbow should be... and that my elbow itself had moved up a bit. "So... forelimb designed for support. Quadruped? I'm just going to call this a hoof until another name presents itself."

Was I freaking out? Well... no. I'm a pretty chill guy when it comes to the strange and unusual, mostly because I myself am strange and unusual. I know, I know, it sounds sueish and cliche, but... yeah, as an Aspie I kinda had to focus on nonnormal things for most of my life. People were... disturbing. Most people. A few, though, they managed to connect to me in high school--

I'm sorry, you came here for ponies, not nostalgia! Unless you're a Dream Valley fan, in which case win-win!

So I finished examining my hoof and decided that I should probably check on the rest of my body. Lifting my covers, I peered under; mmmmyep, I was pink and fuzzy all over. Cept for the tail, which was more of a tangled mess then anything and actually seemed to be fuchsia. And my cutie mark, mostly hidden by the green sheet and shadows. To top the whole thing off, I was wearing a blue circle-print pajama shirt and, I belatedly realized, matching socking cap.

"Alright, I'm calling it now. Pinkie Pie. Voice, mane, hooves, sex change and all." Rolling my shoulders, I streeeeetched out in imitation of my patient pet cat Disney (God rest his soul), eventually bucking the sheets off my body and to the side.

I should now mention that I had a loft bed. You know, the kind with a ladder. This was, primarily, because the floor of my room was littered with books, legos, drawings, and papers in a semi-organized mess. At the time, the loft bed had seemed like a good idea.

"Ladder, hooves. Ladder, hooves." I glanced from forelimb to descending plane, and furrowed my brow. "Hokay. This is gonna be a little complicated."

Now, you're probably thinking that I went straight for the ladder. You're wrong. What I did instead was slowly stand up on all fours, stretching my neck forward as my mane brushed against the ceiling. "But Reid," you're asking, "How did you have room to--"

Wait what? Who is Reid? I'm Reid! Reid X.P. at your service. Didn't I mention that?

Anyway, as I was saying before the flow of the story was so rudely interrupted... "But Reid," you're asking, "How did you have room to stand up when you were on a loft bed?" Well, my bedroom's on the second floor, so the ceiling kinda slopes with the roof. If I'd been human I wouldn't have been able to manage it, and even as a waist-high pony it was still a bit of a squeeze, but if there's anything about Pinkie Pie's body you should know it's that it's flexible. Like, oh my gosh is this girl part balloon animal flexible. Makes sense though...

Once I was up on all fours, I began the process of testing each limb's mobility, twisting their joints in a casual wave until I felt familiar with them before putting them back on the mattress and beginning with the next one. That took me, oh, two minutes I suppose... Deciding I was comfortable enough with my new body, I dug in with my forehooves and swung my rump over to the ladder. It was a bit of a hassle to gain purchase on a set of rungs, since my anklebone was longer then I remembered, but eventually I managed to click my hooves on. Quite pleased with my success, I brought one forehoof down to the topmost rung, then extended the corresponding rear leg out. Uh-huh, looking good. I released my mattress from its death grip, casually bringing the last hoof onto the ladder and simultaneously extending my OTHER rear leg....

"WhoaheyWAAGH!"

Yeah. That's when it all went cartoonishly clumsy. If I didn't keep that futon mattress under my bed... well, anyway, I survived.

"At least it wasn't a triple bunk this time," I muttered, rolling into a standing position. "No broken bones, few bruises, tail seems to be okay.... Of course it would be okay, it's hair. Reid, is Pinkie Pie's neurology getting to you already or is this just your own natural randomness?"

I paused, considering my last words as I tilted my head.

"...Okay, from now on, check thoughts for felt texture."

Existential crises averted--I'm more of a pencil-sketch/3d-graphic thinker, you know, sorta like Skyward Sword--I considered my next move. Well, since I wasn't wearing pants, that could be an issue, but then again ponies seemed to sheathe genitalia so maybe nobody would mind. Actually, that was a more practical problem: where were Pinkie's, ahem, holes? Grabbing a pair of jeans with a hole between the legs and, after a moment's debate, some underwear from the laundry basket I'd left sitting out the last night, I went to open my door. Fortunately, it had a handle, and not a knob. Score one for practicality!

By this time it was about, let's say, four fifty? Yep, that's good. I'm not good with time, I have to constantly look at digital clocks. But fortunately for me, nobody was awake. So I trotted across the floor to the upstairs bathroom, which was actually a sink-room and a halfbath. I shut the door and took a look at myself in the mirror.

"...Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie! What's your name?"

Sorry, had to be done. After I finished giggling at my little joke, I decided to turn to more practical matters. Namely, showing the mirror my rear.

Before any of you start gasping in horror, this was purely practical and I was only identifying exit ports, not entry ports. I don't get off on looks. The only thing that arouses me is romance. Strange but true.

"Well, doctor Pinkie, analysis is complete. I thiiiiink it might be time for the practical." Thus saying, I turned my head to the toilet room, took a deep breath and walked in.

Two minutes later, I walked out, somewhere between disgusted and pleased. "Pinkie, I don't know WHAT you ate but I guess I should thank you for helping me with the lesson. Ugh. Maybe that was hay, ponies eat hay..." That triggered another set of questions in my head, relating to the dietary requirements of equines. I groaned as I realized that I wouldn't be able to pack sandwiches for lunch anymore, but tapped my hoof when I remembered the eggs that Rarity had served for breakfast in an episode devoted to sisterhood.

I pulled on my pants, jamming my tail through the hole. Before I left the bathroom, I glowered at the mirror. "Real life ponies are CHEST HIGH. You, Pinkie, are WAIST HIGH. And now I have to suffer for the designer's oversight. I am put out, missy, very much put out!"

With a toss of my mane and a distinctly Rarity-like "Hmmph!" I trotted down the stairs. Well... okay, I fell down the stairs to the first landing, shook my head, got up, and went a bit more carefully down the second half. Time for cereal!

"...Hooves. Spoons."

....Time for waffles!

This is how I learned a pony's nose could get really cold really fast when exposed to a freezer's cold, although it might have just been Pinkie's uniquely cartoonish nature. After breaking off the icicles, I plunked the waffles in the toaster and sat down on the floor to wait.

It was about this time that I finally realized something. I was, in fact, a pony. This, while not something really bad, was at least distinctly unusual. More so then my usual unusual levels.

"This is going to be an interesting day, isn't it."

Finger Envy

Pchop!

That's how my toaster sounds when the waffles pop out. I grabbed the foodstuff with my mouth and placed it on the plate I'd gotten out while I was waiting. Normally I'd go for a quick meal but... to my newfound sense of smell, something was missing.

"Hmmmm. Needs syrup." Objectives determined, I pursued my new-found quest with vim and vigor!

By which I mean I opened the fridge and reached out for the syrup with a hoof. A few moments of struggling to grip the thing earned the universe an exasperated sigh, and I decided to just grab the darn thing with my mouth. I placed it onto the counter next to my plate, scrambling to get into the bar-stool height chair--not easy as a waist-high quadruped, but doable--and realized, belatedly, that the syrup had a screw-on cap.

It was a good thirty seconds before I did anything other then stare at the thing.

"...Okay. Reid, put the frustration away for now. What tools do you have at hand?" I rolled my eyes.. "Or at hoof as the case may be."

After a few moment's careful concentration, an idea formed in my head. I clamped the glass jug between my forehooves, bringing it closer to the edge of the counter, and carefully tilted it out. Then I bit down on the lid firmly. Thank the Faust for Pinkie's flexible neck, that's all I have to say...

Once I had opened the jug, it was a simple matter to tilt it carefully over the plate. The viscous fluid descended onto the waffles with wondrous precision. I stopped the flow eventually, putting down the jug and grinning at my accomplishment.

"I have made waffles!"

Then I realized what I just said.

"...I have made waffles." With a sigh, I put my head in my hooves. "This is now an accomplishment. Great. Just greeeeeat."

Another thought hit me. "How in the world am I going to draw?" And then another. "How am I going to use the internet?" And then a third. "Heck, how am I going to use my wallet?" I leaned back, examining my new appendages with a bit more interest. "You guys are going to be a major problem if I don't do something soon."

My stomach made a sound that, in another body, could be described as a rumble but here sounded more like a water balloon squishing around. You know with all the squeakiness and, um, sloshing.

"...Eh, I think better on a full stomach anyway." The hoof thing was important, and I was already rapidly developing a number of ideas ranging from a brony hand servant to cybernetic pony hands. But for the moment, I used my newly found jaw flexibility to chow down on the syrupy waffles. This day was having its ups and downs. And it wasn't even five yet.

Actually, speaking of five, that's when everybody else in the house normally started waking up. The kids--my siblings, mostly, one of them has moved out--would be shaken awake by Mom, who needed them to all get up and get ready for the ride to Church. Since today was a Sunday and all. See, usually I think to mention these details before hand, I think Pinkie's distracting me with her thoughts--ANYwho, Dad would basically just get ready and help get the kids where they needed to go. Of course, there was the whole part where I was pony now, for no as of yet adequately explained reason.

Well, whoop de doo.

I still had a few minutes before that happened, though, so after finishing my meal and putting my plate in the dishwasher (and, yes, putting the syrup away, I'm no heathen), I walked to the stairs. This time I was cautious, pressing myself against the outer wall for stability, and soon enough I had made it back into the comfortable mess of my bedroom. Taking off the stocking cap and shirt--"Pinkie, you have excellent taste in PJs."--I grabbed a t-shirt and, after some struggle, managed to slid into it. Normally I go neck first, arms second, but this new shape necessitated a reversal of the pattern.

Right, back to the question at hand. Hooves. I giggled involuntarily at my mental pun, before running my mind through various scenarios. One particular fanfic, though, suddenly cropped up in my memory; the fic itself was about a college girl rooming with Rainbow Dash, but it had added a small detail of Rainbow getting these sort of rubber band things around her hooves to handle a world built for hands.

"...Big rubber bands, of course!" Beaming at my ingenuity, I tried to remember where the big rubber bands were, but my gaze landed on the metal drawer that served as my precisely organized lego container. "Ooooor something even better, ha!"

I pulled the thing open, digging through the small chambers within. "Where are they, where are they... aha!" With triumph, I removed two black rings from the pile of plastic gears. In the original Mindstorms set, they would have been used as tank tracks, essentially. But now, the rubber circles--and more importantly, the various notches on them--would serve as replacement digits.

It was a bit of a tight fit, but I managed to slip them on around my hooves. Then I headed out of my room and to my computer desk.... which really was just a corner of the wall shelving that happened to be at desk level. More importantly, though, my coat was still hanging off the back of my chair, and in its pockets were a slew of pencils. Oh how I love my pencils... And today, how they would serve me. I grabbed a few of the wooden wands of wonder, sliding them gently between my skin and the rubber of the lego-made product...

"And Viola! Do it yourself fingers. I am totally brilliant..."

I sat down with a sigh.

"...not that they can do anything besides poking."

The loss of fingers hit me hard. Maybe it was a bit slow for me to realize, but... I'm a writer, an artist. It was all I did before I connected to humanity in high school. And now, now I couldn't do much more then type... was this all an exercise in futility?

A felt-feeling thought cropped up then; an image of the rising sun.

"...you're right, Pinkie, there still is a future. I won't let this get me down. I'll... figure out a new way to draw! Mouthdrawings! All the rage in this modern age!" I stood up, pointing dramatically with a pencil. "And I won't stop until... until the spider-kittens tell me to!"

Take the problems, one at a time! That's the Reid way, and that's the Pinkie way too! Wake up as a pony? Get used to the new body! Lose your fingers? MAKE NEW ONES! Don't have a clue what's going on? TO GOOGLE!

Speaking of which, I should wake up my computron. Ah, the iMac. A thing of compact beauty, and so less inexpensive then trying to keep up with the rat race of constantly updating upgrades for electronics. I'm saving for the nanobot revolution, it's totally coming. Self-upgrading computers... won't it be grand?

While I was pondering the future of technology, my computer winked to life and informed me it was ready for work. Right. Log in--no I'm not telling my password--open the browser, type in Pony News to the search bar.

"Huh...."

Well, apparently SOMETHING happened. Flicking through the articles, I got the gist of what everybody was worried about. Lauren Faust was now Princess Celestia; the Fausticorn is become the Lifegiver. Oh, and the week had... a bunch of new days. So apparently today wasn't Sunday anymore? Oh, wait, didn't kick in till tomorrow. Which made no sense, since Saturday was the end of the week. And therefore made perfect sense, since it seemed very... Discordian. Such are the paradoxes of logic.

"Heh, Discord, so contextually predictable..."

Time to narrow down the search. Elements of Harmony, that's of personal interest! I flicked through the new news posts, finding that the elements had been ordered by the Fausticorn to go to New York. Apparently the world was in danger or something. One problem at a time, Reid, one problem at a time...

"Okay. First, New York. How is that going to work? No driver's license, can't drive.... Airplane? Too expensive for short notice. Oh hey, this news article is about Fluttershy!"

Easily distracted by my voice-sister, because EVERYPONY knows Pinkie and Flutters are voiced by the same lady, I clicked the link. Apparently, the shy one had a facebook page.

Facebook.

I... had bad memories.

....but, eventually, I swallowed my pride, reactivated my old account and friended her. Then I shut the tab entirely and breathed in deeply.

"Wow. That was... easier then I remembered. Huh. Hahaha!"

Right, back to the problem, transportation.

"...Excuse me, miss, but are you a pony?"

Scratch that, the problem is now explaining things to my mom.

Prepare for Travel

"Hey mom, apparently people across the world are turning into ponies. Also, Lauren Faust has called me to New York because the world's in danger somehow."

What can I say, I'm charmingly blunt. I gave up on subtlety ages ago, back when I realized I couldn't get my thoughts out my mouth in a way that fitted how I was thinking them. Comes with the aspie territory.

My mother stared at me for a moment. "...Reid?"

"Yep."

"And you're..." She searched for the right word. "Pink Pie?"

"Pinkie, actually. Pinkie Pie. And it's more accurate to say I have her body." I waved a pencilly hoof at the computer screen. "So... yeah, I was trying to figure out how to get there. I'm thinking trains, buses, and hitchhiking--"

"My son is a pony," Mom said flatly. "A female pony."

"...Okay, I'll wait for your shock to wear off." Seriously, she's impossible to talk to when she's dealing with the impossible. Lady of schedules and organizing, when one little thing crops up she always has this little moment of hesitation before she adapts. Maybe this was just a big thing.

Actually, in retrospect I should have reacted a bit more then I did.

...maybe I'm just crazy. Or practical. Crazy practical.

After an awkward minute or two of my mother staring at me. I coughed. "Riiiiiight. So. Um. New York."

That seemed to snap her out of her trance. "What? Oh. Right. You need to get to New York to... fix this, right?"

"Potentially, yes. That's how it works in the books anyway. Epic quest, then back to normal." I shrugged. "Or, you know, acceptance. Either way it's a resolution." I glanced at the computer screen. "Also the world is apparently in danger or something. But that's not a problem I can solve unless I'm in the Yorks."

"Right." Mom gathered herself. "Right. Now, let's see, New York. I know the marching band sends buses up there for the B.O.A., so maybe somebody with the band could help you get up there."

"Or I could travel WITH the band!"

"Bands Of America isn't for a while. I don't think they can rent the buses without much warning."

"...Touche." I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "Still, a route is a route, and there should be a local brony that could drive me down the highway."

"Honey..." Mom looked me in the eye. "You're talking about taking a cross-country trip to another state while you're not in your own body."

"And my body is ridiculously famous," I added unhelpfully, and then, "That came out completely wrong."

Mom shook her head. "But I know what you mean... everybody will know who you are now when they see you."

"Mobs of adoring fans, pictures of me across the intertubulars." I nodded. "I think I know that."

"And... none of this scares you at all?"

I pondered the question.

"...actually... actually it scares me a heck of a lot. The thing is, though, when I get scared, I get focused. Scarily so." I giggled. "Wow, this body is so much better for punning. Anyway, yes, I'm scared. Terrified. And that drive me to act, because if I don't do anything about it... well, where would I be?"

Mom nodded. "...Honey, you know you can always call home if you need to."

"Oh and now you're so ready for me to leave?" I gave a dramatic pout, spinning away. "Oh I see how it is."

"Mmmyep, I've been trying to kick you out for four years now. Not going to miss this chance." Her voice had regained its usual levels of humor.

"I'll be sure to tell everybody I meet that my own mother threw me out on the streets once I got hooves. Should get me a few sympathy meals!"

"Right." Mom glanced toward the kiddo's bedrooms. "Well... you should figure out what you'll need. After I wake the kids up, I'll help you plan your route."

"You're taking this all rather well," I said honestly. "Are you doing all right?"

"....it's a shock, that's all." With that, Mom disappeared to wake up my brothers; my sister tended to wake up on her own, but she needed a prod on occasion.

Right, time to plan. Coat and wallet, taking those definitely. I slipped on the heavy black thing, ensuring nothing was falling out of its place, before grabbing my wallet with my mouth and maneuvering it into my jeans pocket. Probably needed saddlebags, how was I going to jury rig those? Well, there was my old satchel in my room and--actually, taking along the satchel and the various drawings it held might be a good idea, seeing as I could prove my identity via deviant art match-ups if it came to that. But I'd need more containers...

I wandered down the stairs to the under-stair closet--we called it Narnia because it was so HUGE--and went through the plethora of unused backpacks and suitcases. They kinda stack up after five kids going through the school system are added to a few vacations. There was one of those sack-pack things, you know, that kind of sack you can wear as a backpack? I took that, figuring it could store my drawing pads. And my iPad. Then I grabbed an old 101 Dalmatians backpack... well, it was more of a suitcase with backpack straps attached to the back. Bright red, too. My final collection was an assortment of bungee cords which I temporarily stuffed, along with the back sack, into the Dalmatian suitpack.

As I headed back up the stairs, I greeted my five-year-old brother with a wave. His eyes were wide as saucers; I had, previously, assimilated him into the herd.

"You're Pinkie!"

My smile froze for an instant; he didn't recognize me. "Um... Yeah! Your mom said she'd help me pack for my trip?"

"Where are you going?"

"New York!"

He shrugged. "My brothers go to New York sometimes."

"With that marching band, right?"

"Yeah! I wish I could go."

Oh but kid, you already went; you were just too young to remember. I patted him gently on the head. "Don't you worry little guy, if you work hard and find something you reeeeeeally like to do I'm sure you'll be able to go there some day."

He crossed his arms. "I wanna go now."

"But you have to go to church, right?"

"...yeah."

I gave him a smile. "Trust me. What you have right now is worth a lot." And with that mysterious statement, I walk past him. "Maybe you should go eat something yummy for breakfast!"

"Okay!" Ah, five year old enthusiasm. He almost ran down the stairs, headed for the kitchen.

As soon he was out of sight I darted into my room. That had been way too close! I mean, anonymous fans I could handle, I'd probably never see them again, but this was my five year old brother! He'd known me for all his life! How was I supposed to react? I paused to consider what I'd said to him, hoping I hadn't inexorably altered his life path and, thankfully, realizing that all I'd done was give him good advice. And positive reinforcement from a role model. Excellent! Day one as Laughter's exalt and I was already keeping the fans happy.

Out of curiosity I peered at my chest. Nope, no necklace. Well, that was okay, I could figure that out later.

For the moment, though, I approached my old satchel with a perhaps slightly maniac grin. The bungee cords slithered out of the suitpack and into my supple hooves.

It was time to make some saddlebags.

Arrangements and Farewells

"...hook this to that, leave space for a sleeping bag... HA! Finished!"

I stepped back to examine my workmanship. A blanket was wrapped around the bungie cords, which formed a spider web network around and through the handles of the suitpack, backsack, and satchel. It was no Carousel Boutique line, but this set of bags had been masterfully transformed into a glorious, monstrous parody of saddlebags.

"Adam Savage would be proud."

Now, toiletries. Packing a toothbrush and toothpaste was easy enough, my room had its own wet bar, but I had to go to the restroom to gather some soap and shampoo. When I turned around, I saw my sister staring at me.

"...Hi!"

"Um... hey. Reid?"

"Yeah. How'd you guess?"

"Reid's the only one who wears that coat," she replied matter of factly. "Also, I heard about this thing happening from a friend."

"Yeah, I should pay more attention to the news. If you'll excuse me, I need to keep packing."

She nodded, stepping aside. Good little sis, the most grounded of any of us... except my brother, who moved away. Why is it I'm the oldest and he moved away? Eh, I had free room and board, can't really complain. I just missed him.

Well, anyway...

Having put my toiletries, Pinkie's PJs and, after a moment's thought, the only pony shirt I owned into the suitpack (It's a silhouette of Rainbow's face with "20 percent cooler" printed under it), I maneuvered the whole assemblage onto my back. It was still a little unbalanced, but shoving my pads and iPad into the sackback helped a bit and I was planning on taking a sleeping bag anyway. On a whim, I grabbed my Figment puppet/plushie--you know, Figment from that old Disney ride about imagination? Purple dragon, yellow t-shirt? Gads I'm old-- and plunked him on top of the sackback.

"Wow... glad I'm an earth pony, or this would be reeeeeeally heavy!" I glanced back at the puppet/plushie. "Not that you're fat or anything."

So arranged, I headed down the stairs. Yes, the new weight on my back was kinda ruining my maneuvering, but by keeping pressed against the wall again I managed not to lose my balance. Once I was downstairs again, I headed into the garage. "Sleeping bag, sleeping bag. Should be... HERE!" I gripped the thing with my teeth and tugged it out of its friction-held slot on the shelving. Then I hung it off a spare bungee hook under the suitpack. Now all I needed was food! And my iPad charger, I belatedly realized. And a map. And a plan.

These epic adventures are a lot easier in the books.

With a shrug, I went to collect whatever I could shove into my suitpack for snacks. By this point, my other brother was in the kitchen, getting milk for his cereal. He didn't notice me trot into the pantry and shove all the cliff bars and granola bars into my haphazard saddlebags; he didn't look up when I trotted out to raid the fridge for the baby carrot packages. I was just stuffing the last cheesestick into my bag when he finally realized I was there.

"...What the heck?"

"Hey there."

"No seriously, what the heck?" He stared at me. "Who the heck are you?"

I shut the fridge door, having gathered my snackfood for the trip, and gave him a flat look. "Oh I don't know, internet phenomena, one of the main characters on the new pop culture hit, fourth wall breaker, mistress of mania, party pony, swallower of cakes, exalt of laughter.... I have a lot of titles, I get them confused."

"...Okay, so you're a pony." He snorted. "Why are you raiding the fridge?"

"I am about to embark on an epic quest full of mayham and mishaps to the strange and terrible city of New York in order to meet with the transmogrified Fausticorn and thereby prevent the apocalypse." I shrugged. "So I need some noms."

"Does my mom know about this?"

"Yes," Mom said, walking onto the scene. "I've called your brother, he'll be here in twenty minutes."

"Thanks Mom!"

My other brother blinked. "...Wait a minute. Are you Reid?"

"Mmmmyep."

"Why didn't you just say so?" he asked in annoyance.

"Because that was not what you were asking," I replied flippantly. "You were asking who I am, not who I was, and I know you were referring to my physical identity and not my mental one."

After a moment, he just snorted and returned to his cereal. With his hands. This was a major problem for me, finger envy, but I kept myself contained.

"Anyway," Mom added, pulling out her iPhone, "I have a route for you when your brother gets here. I'm e-mailing it to him now. You need anything before you go?"

"Yeah, can't find my charger. Oh, but I raided the fridge and the pantry, so on the food field we're in the clear."

"Oh... well, I'll, um, transfer money into your account."

I looked at her for a moment or two. She still seems a bit off... "Hey Mom? Could you come here?"

"Sure." She walked up to me. "What do you need?"

"...no, hold on, I don't think I can reach up there yet. Could you kneel down please?"

"O... kay..."

As soon as she was in range, I wrapped my forelimbs around her shoulders. "Thank you. Thank you for helping me whenever I needed it and putting up with me for more then two decades. I promise, I'll come back. Okay? Just, please, don't worry about me. You already have a lot on your plate, and knowing that you're back home worrying is not going to do me any favors."

She didn't exactly cry, but it was obvious she was holding back tears. "I'm sorry. It's just, this is sudden and you're my son and--"

"And I get it. Really. Thank you."

"...You're welcome."

It was... well, a moment between mother and son. A moment when we both realized how much we actually meant to each other, how much we had helped the other stand up to the world's challenges. I... had to leave this woman, who meant so much during all my life... I'm sorry, there's no real way to describe it.

After a minute, I broke off the hug. "Right, so! I'm going to go look for my charger."

"Yes. That..." Mom nodded, standing up. "That sounds like a good thing to do. And headphones."

"Oh yeah, can't forget those." I trotted toward the stairs. "Actually, am I even going to need them? I mean I might just burst out into a musical number at any random moment, you know, being Pinkie and all. It's what she does." I paused in my ascent, to give Mom a final look and a smile. "Hey, if I make up any new songs, I'll e-mail you the lyrics, okay?"

"I'd love to read them." She smiled back. "Or hear them."

"Oh, well in that case, I Pinkie promise to only sing in the presence of internet-connected recording devices. And send you the inevitable youtube links. Not the remixes, though." Giving a mock salute, I trotted back up the stairs to gather my collection of traveling wires.

TO THE PINKIEMOBILE!

Let me explain how I looked before I go any further.

Picture Pinkie Pie. Yes, that's an obvious starting point, but stay with me. She's wearing jeans that her tail sticks through; they were made for human knees but they're just loose enough to collect around her hooves. A brown-grey striped t-shirt covers the rest of her body. Around her forehooves are thick rubber circlets, holding in place a variety of pencils. That's layer one.

Layer two consists entirely of my coat. It's long sleeved, black, and made of thick cotton. The hood can zip out and the front... well, bottom now, can zip up. I left the front unzipped, though. And there are the pockets, the two near the back that hold and assortment of drawing tools and the two round my chest that hold my phone and a bunch of feathers. I collect feathers from the street. Don't judge. Also there's an inner pocket that holds items of sentimental importance.

Of course, my jury rigged saddlebags make up layer three: On one side, a grey-and-orange satchel with two accordion folders literally JAMMED full of drawings, carefully organized with index cards, and the rest of the satchel's pockets holding even MORE art tools (such as triangles, stencils, and about half a pound of pencils). On the other, a One Hundred and One Disney suitpack, from which hangs a sleeping bag and itself contains food, toiletries, and changes of shirt. These are connected by a network of bungee cords wrapped in a blanket, atop which is my sackbag with my sketchpads and iPad. My earphones and charger hang, unplugged, around my neck.

On top of all this sits Figment, a purple dragon plushie/puppet in a yellow tshirt, looking like Spike's cool older brother.

And my face... or Pinkie's face, rather, hosts an expression of both worry and determination.

Do you have this picture in your head?

Good. Because I looked ridiculous, and I KNEW it. And as my oldest brother--still younger then me, but he's legally an adult--pulled into the driveway and gave me a look, I knew he knew it too.

"...Figment?"

"Obligatory non-talking traveling companion."

"So... a teddy bear, basically?"

"....yeah, pretty much," I admitted.

After a moment, he shrugged. "Well all right. Hop in."

I smiled. See this is why my brother is awesome. He's so mellow, but so deep. I'm mellow and deep too, but that's more because I'm a social recluse. He's one of those actually cool chill dudes, bro. I'm just the weirdo in the corner, drawing fantasy worlds that nobody will ever see.

"Alright, let me just..." I scabbled at the car door handle. "Um... okay, that's not working. Sorry, still getting used to hooves, would you mind--?"

He rolled his eyes, hopping out of the car--oh look, he was wearing his RD tee, the one with RD in flight silhouetted--and opened the door for me. "Your chariot awaits, milady."

"Why thank you kind sirrah, I shall enter posthaste." I clambered into the vehicle with exaggerated dignity, gently placing Figment in the seat next to me before I began to twist into my own chair. "Wow, this tail... okay, I think I got it." I reached out for the seatbelt...but found my brother had already grabbed it and was extending it across me. "Hey! I'm not totally helpless, you know."

"Obviously. You did so well with the door."

I crossed my forelegs. "Fine. So I'm a little bit slow when it comes to grabbing things. I still think I could have handled the seatbelt."

"I'll let you try next time." He shut the door before swinging back into the driver's seat.

The car started and began to roll out the driveway and down the road, triggering two completely disparate urges in my head. One part of my head, the part that woke up early habitually and spent two or three hours on trains and buses, wanted to catch a quick power nap. A distinctly more felt-feeling urge wanted to roll down the window and shout GOOD MORNING HURST TEXAS! at a decibel level normally found at high level rock concerts.

Eventually I took a third option, pulling out my iPad to start browsing the news clips. Working the touch screen with hooves was a pit of a challenge, but it ended up being pretty similar to hunt-and-peck.

So, what was the situation exactly? Faust called the Elemental Harmony Squad to New York, because apparently Discord was doing something evil that threatened the world. People were turning into ponies--one sight speculated the rate was roughly exponential, with the pony population doubling daily, but there was some trouble arranging a proper census to examine the data. Fluttershy was traveling... wait, she was headed for Kansas City? That was almost directly north of here!

"Are we going by the way of Kansas City?" I asked my brother.

"Well, no. Why?"

"The person that got transformed into Fluttershy is headed that way. I thought maybe we could meet up."

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel--OH MY FLARKING SKREEP, DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY GESTURES YOU NEED FINGERS FOR?!--considering my proposal. Eventually, he gave a resigned sigh. "Yeah, that would work, I guess. I'll need to plot out a new route."

"You totally just want to meet Fluttershy."

"They're all good ponies," he countered defensively. "I want to meet as many of them as I can."

"Well... part of Pinkie is in my head, so I guess it could work," I mused.

My brother pulled over at that, parking next to a horse farm, and turned around. "What did you just say?"

"Look, yes, Pinkie is in my head. But it's cool!" I reassured him quickly. "I'm not losing myself or anything, and I'm watching my own thoughts very carefully."

"...Look, Reid, if you're going through some sort of brainwashing--"

"I. Am. Not." I affixed him with a firm glare. "For me this is just like writing, or when I'm on the stage. I talk to the characters, I don't control them. Pinkie's thoughts are here, but they feel like felt. My thoughts don't. I can keep myself separate from her if I so wish, and I do so wish, I'm just respecting her wishes as well. So don't ever suggest that Pinkie is brainwashing me again. She would not do that."

My brother gave me a long, cautious look.

I stared right back at him.

Eventually, he pulled out his phone and opened the door. "Right, I'm... I'm going to plot a new route for us."

"I'll chit the chat with the shy one."

That had been surprisingly... intense. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't sure I was right, but enough had been taken out of my hands already--including my hands themselves, and quite frankly I was NOT going to let my traveling companions worry over the state of my mental health if I could help it. I got enough of that with my usual aspie shenanigans. I wanted them to understand I could still control this one aspect of my life.

In fact, I decided to make the post to Fluttershy's facebook perfectually my own style, ignoring all of the felt urges in my head as I typed in a greeting.

Ha! She would never guess I was the Preposterous Pinkie Pie! All she knew was that I was hooved! And Reid! And that there was a horse looking at me curiously.

I lowered my window and waved. "Hey there!"

The horse turned his ears forward.

"....How's the grass?"

The horse's tail flicked twice.

"Good to know! So, um, yeah!" I leaned out to look at my brother. "Can you hurry it up with the map, the horse is creeping me out."

Road Trip Shenanigans

About forty five minutes passed after that, forty five minutes of me fidgeting in my seat while we rolled down the highway. It was really an unusual feeling, being in this living sugar rush called Pinkie Pie; I had long ago developed a tolerance for long road trips, seeing as we made annual visitations to my Oklahoma-dwelling grandparents and their barn for, generally, fourth of July celebrations. But now being still was something of a hassle for me, I had a constant urge to swivel this joint or look out that window or just twitch.

And of course there were the various small things that happened while we drove northwards. Montage time!

I was a little bit hungry, so I reached into my saddlebags. After struggling to get a grip on any of my noms, I tugged my hoof out and rearranged my pencil-fingers before trying again. This time I was able to snag a cliff bar, chopstick style. Hooray, I thought, I have accomplished a basic ability!

Then the universe reminded me that the bar was still wrapped.

"Note to self, contact governmental representative and have him pass legislation for handless-friendly designs."

"What was that?" my brother asked over his shoulder.

"Nothing! Nothing at all!" I smiled politely, waving with the hoof that hadn't grabbed the cliff bar. "Just keep driving." I was NOT going to let a cliff bar defeat me, car doors I could handle, but this was something I could LITERALLY jam into my mouth.

"If you need help--"

"I'm fine, really!"

He sighed. "Right. Whatever you say."

Now to unwrap this bar...

No, that didn't work....

No, that wasn't working either...

Maybe this would-- "Ow! My eye!" No, that wasn't it....

Hey, if I used my knees I could--oh flark, now it was on the floor. I leaned forward, straining against my seat belt to reach it.

Perhaps I was overthinking this. A simple twist of my neck might--"Ow! My ear!" How did that even work?!

Eventually, after various attempts to hold it this way with my hooves and tug that way with my mouth, I hit upon a brilliant solution. I pulled out my sketchpad, closed, and put the bar back-up atop the surface. Then, with a quartet of pencils speared through the wrapper's corners, I gripped the rear fold between my teeth and lifted. Slowly, the covering began to peel away, releasing the scents of the energy bar into the van.

I grinned, nabbing my prize and swallowing. Victory had never tasted so sweet.

"That took you seven minutes," my brother informed me helpfully.

My ears flattened. "Thank you for the vote of confidence."

"So what was with the horse?"

I flicked my ear forward. "What?"

"I saw how you were scared of that horse. You were never scared before."

"I was not scared," I snorted, "I was just... creeped out. I think it was an uncanny valley thing."

"Horses don't look that human."

"Pony," I reminded him, tapping my face meaningfully. "Different wires. I mean, I'm not sure but I thi...ee...eeeCHOO!"

There was a quiet moment.

"....is this confetti in my hair?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "Yes it is."

"Well... that's... weird."

"Try having it come out of your nose." I rolled my shoulders. "Heck, put on this body for a change. I am so over energetic that I have to force myself NOT to chew out of this seatbelt, and that's not even figuring the proportion changes. My tail's half asleep, I keep getting random twitches that I KNOW is supposed to be Pinkie sense, and to top it all off I DO NOT HAVE FINGERS."

He gave me a small smile. "Or a--"

"That's not as important. Trust me."

"Hey, look on the bright side. You're adorable."

"....as soon as we cross the Red River we are pulling out so I can stretch my legs."

".....Dooby dooby do wa, dooby dooby do wa..."

My brother raised an eyebrow, but joined in. "Dooby dooby do wa, dooby dooby do wa..."

"He's a semi-aquatic egg laying mammal of action!"

"He's a furry little flatfoot that never flinches from a frayiayiaaaaay!

"He's got more then just mad skill! He's got a beaver tail and a bill!"

"And the ladies swoon, whenever they hear him saaaaaaaay...."

"Krrrr... um, Chrrt... No, I can't do it. Shreeprats."

We rode in silence for... three seconds.

Then, together: "He's PERRY! Perry the PLAT A PUSS!"

After two minutes of entering a simple search phrase into the google searchbar, I grew frustrated with the iPad's typing scheme. Of course, since it was a touchscreen, all I had to do was find an alternate keyboard app. That took about five minutes, and soon enough I was browsing the intertublars with my old confidence. It occurred to me to look at Facebook, see if the Fluttershy person had replied.

My eyes widened. She had guessed?! How could she have figured out that I was Pinkie?! I was deliberately pushing her back, trying to let my own thoughts be driving the post!

I will admit, with the abject terror running through my head, I squeaked a little bit.

"Everything okay back there?"

"Yep! Nothing's wrong! Just a mild existential panic attack, I have those once a week!"

My brother gave me an odd look in the rearview mirror.

"No seriously, I have existential panic attacks pretty regularly. Mostly when I sit around and stare at the wall. The pony thing is just compounding it." I shrugged. "It's a thing. It happens."

"You... never mentioned them before."

"Yeah, I wasn't much of a talker before, now was I?"

He conceded the point with a nod, but he was still giving me a look somewhere between worried and suspicious. The 'what are you not telling me' look.

"Oh hey, Erishy responded to my message! Look at that, I better type back."

"Reid, you should really talk to me if--"

"No no no, I'm fine, really, it's cool, my problems are my own and you can't do anything to help anyway so please just don't worry about it and keep your eyes on the road."

"Look, we're traveling together and I just want to make sure you don't go crazy."

"I've always been crazy."

"No, you've always used insanity as a disguise for doing whatever it is you want to do. Now that you're actually possibly going insane you think you can use your made up insanity to distract me from your real insanity."

I flinched.

"...just... tell me if it gets worse."

"...what would you be able to--?"

"Pinkie Pie promise," he added forcefully. "You'll tell me if things get really bad in your head."

I sighed. "That would just make it worse. Trust me. It's gone now, anyway."

There was a few minutes of silence. With a shudddering breath, I turned back to the iPad.

No need to worry her, of all ponies. Producing Fluttertears is a federal crime. I pondered the rest of her message, wondering how to explain it to a non-genre-savvy pony.

After a moment's thought, I decided to sign off with my own unique gibberish.

Companions Acquired: Cosplayers

As soon as we crossed the Red River, we took the nearest exit into the small town of Marietta and pulled into a local McDonald's parking lot. I managed to unbuckle myself, mentally bringing my number of Finger Accomplishments up to five (waffles, the initial internet search, the cliff bar, iPad keyboard, and now a seatbelt) but had to wait for my brother to open the door. Soon enough, Figment and I were out, stretching our hooves. Well, I was. He was kinda enjoying the view.

"Are you sure you want to bring Figment along?"

I glanced at the lolling puppet/plushie on my back. "...Yes. Maybe he'll distract the rabid fanboys."

"Wouldn't count on that. You want to leave your bags behind?"

"No," I replied automatically. I had an almost pathological need to have the bags in sight at all times; their contents were my identity and quite frankly I was having enough identity issues as it was. "I'll just put them down next to me and have Figment guard them."

"He's a stuffed animal with a slot to stick a hand in."

"He's also a dragon. I trust him."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"I anthropomorphize EVERYTHING. I named my clarinet back when I was in band."

"Really?"

"Yep. Obsidian, that was her name." We started walking for the door.

"You never told me that."

I smiled. "I never told you a lot of things." My eyes drifted to a sign plastered on the door. "Hmmm. No shirt, no shoes, no service."

"Well, you've got the shirt."

"And these," I waved my forehooves, "totally count as spats. So I'll call them shoes."

"They're on your forehooves, not your rear ones." He held the door open as I trotted in.

"I could only find two, and I thought fingers were more important than toes. Sue me."

My brother looked thoughtful. "Do you think Hasbro could actually sue you?"

"By the loom, I HOPE not!" That would just open a whole new slew of problems...

It was about this time that I realized the McDonald's establishment was unnaturally quiet. Looking around, it was quick to determine the cause of the silence; pretty much everyone, from child to adult, was staring at me. Even more unnerving was the table in the corner, claimed by a three women and one man in colorful clothing. The man was, rather poorly in my opinion, dressed as Pinkie Pie; the ladies took Rarity, Derpy, and Fluttershy influences in their dress. Every single one of them had an expression of awe.

Outside my time on the stage, I have never been good with crowds. In fact the only reason I never panicked on the stage is because I always submerged my identity in that of the character; it was never ME on the stage. But now it was me being stared at and the whole thing had me so rattled (although I didn't realize it at the time) that I didn't WANT to submerge myself into the character. So I dealt with the situation in my usual manner.

I turned to the counter and ignored them.

Granted, the cashier was staring at me too, but at least with him I has a business-based structure of interaction.

"I'd like... hmmm. I think I'll take the number seven salad." I glanced at my brother. "How about you?"

"Hamburger, no mayonnaise."

The cashier, to his credit, regained his composure quickly and rattled off a price. I'm not sure what it was. I've never been good with money. But I paid up anyway.

We went to a corner opposite that of the cosplayers. I dropped my bags beside my chair and placed Figment on top of them so he was giving them a stern glare. We ate our surprisingly delicious meals quietly, and eventually the conversations of the restaurant began up again. Still, every time I glanced across the room, the cosplayers were significantly focused on something or other; I'd done that sort of thing myself to realize they were watching me whenever I wasn't looking.

Ten minutes after we got back on the highway, my brother glanced into the rearview mirror. "They're following us, you know."

"The cosplayers?"

"Yep. They all piled into a red van after we left."

I twisted around, peering out the rear window. Yep, there it was, a red van with, surprisingly, the Derpy lady at the wheel. The one dressed as Rarity was riding shotgun; she gave me a little wave.

At a loss for anything better to do, I waved back. The two of them gleamed happily.

After a moment, though, I turned back to the front seat. "I don't know how I feel about this."

"Creeped out?"

"Well, a little bit," I admitted, "but not like oh my gosh call the police levels. More like... more like hey that spider is pretty darn big levels. That Derpy lady pulls it off very well," I added.

"What about the Pinkie guy?"

"His wig sucks. And Pinkie would not wear a skirt, she's way too touchy-feely for that." I pondered. "Maybe a skort. The fingerless gloves make sense though."

"Are we honestly criticizing the cosplay of your stalkers?"

"Mockery alleviates tension, well known fact. The vast majority of American media is based on the principle." I'd even gone so far as to theorize that the reason America hadn't broken down was because it encourage mockery to let off steam before things went down the road of war.

"Fair enough. So what do you think of the Rarity one?"

I twisted around again. "...well since she's currently got an iPhone out, I think she's broadcasting my position for the world to see." With a heavy sigh I slumped into my seat. "I know a lot of people would commit minor crimes to be in my position, but I feel like whining about it."

"Yeah, losing your hand, sex, and privacy sounds like it would be a pretty harsh blow."

"See, you understand. I don't think they do, and... and I can't bring myself to actually rant at them about how unfair the whole thing is. They're just being fans."

"Normal fans don't follow the object of their affection cross country."

"That point is debatable. Depends on the fandom, really." I glanced at Figment. "I think I'm going to play a little prank on the internet."

Carefully, I reached out and turned the plushie so he was looking out the back window. Then I glanced back at Rarityphone, mimed a camera, and pointed at the dragon before snapping back into my seat. Then I pulled out my iPad, googleing Real Life Pinkie. Soon enough I stumbled across a collection of images; the most recent of which involved only Figment, with only a single caption: Spike's older brother?

I grinned, sending a reply. Yes. Yes he is. ---Pinkie Pie. Hey, I could have a little fun, couldn't I?

"Right, this is getting ridiculous." My brother turned the wheel, heading for the exit lane. "Obviously they're going to follow us everywhere, we need to deal with these people now."

"Oh come on, they're just having a little bit of fun!"

"I thought you'd be freaked out by this."

"I'm too busy posting comments on the pictures and eliciting reactions to worry about what they intend to do. Jacqueline seems pretty nice, though--"

"Who?"

"The Rarity cosplayer." I tapped my iPad. "She's been going on about Best Day ever, but she also seems to have this thing for fighting off the trolls. Well, the really bad ones. The silly snarky ones she's cool with, and since I'm okay with them too--"

"Look, I get that you're making internet friends and all but we need to know if they plan to do anything more then snap pictures!"

I sighed. "Alright, alright. Paranoid, aren't you? There's a McDonald's, let's pull over there." Honestly I had been trying to avoid this, but he had a point. Interactions through the intertubulars were so much more different then interactions face to face.

Once we slid to a stop, my brother got out and opened the door for me again. I hopped to the ground, glancing at the road we had just come from; sure enough, there was that red van, pulling into the parking lot two spots away. The doors all opened the second the thing stopped running, and the four cosplayers approached me with cautious eagerness.

We stared at each other.

And, eventually, it became clear that I was going to have to make the first move.

"....Um, heya! How's it going?" I smiled a bit awkwardly. "I'm guessing your rumps are tired from all that sitting, so maybe we should just take a little walk around--"

Suddenly I squeaked as the Fluttershy cosplayer lifted me up in a tight hug. "OHMYGOSH YOU ARE ADORABLE!" She snuggled me for all of five seconds before remembering herself. "Oh. Oh geese, sorry, I just, you're so cute!"

I took a deep breath. Then I replied, completely deadpan, "Yeah, I get that a lot."

Roadside Fangirling

The girls (and the guy, who wasn't actually hideous so much as didn't fit the costume well) all turned out to be pretty nice people. They were gushing over me, yeah, but whenever they started to get a little too touchy-feely I just had to flick my ears back and they'd restrain themselves. Heck, they even paid the McDonald's guy for my salad. My brother was initially suspicious but after a chat with Linda (the Derpy lady), he seemed to calm down a bit. Maybe it was the fact that Linda had a lovely voice, or their shared knowledge of Kingdom hearts lore, or maybe it was how easy on the eyes she was.

"So, we're headed up to Kansas City. The Shy one is up there."

"Oh my gosh can we take pictures with her?" Ginny was practically bouncing on her feet with a wide grin. "Can we can we can we please?"

I shrugged. "Sure, why not." Seriously, the woman was like the exact opposite of Fluttershy, she could talk your ear off about anything and brimmed with cheerful confidence. Why exactly she decided to dress up as the yellow pegasus I'll never know; I mean, they kinda sounded alike, I guess. "She has a facebook account, if you want to see it."

"That would be quite amazing," Jacqueline replied with a grin. Unlike Ginny, she perfectly fit Rarity's character; in fact, the girls all attributed their stunning costumes to her expert craftsmanship. "I hope the dear isn't in too much trouble."

"Well, she was in a car accident but she didn't get hurt. Let me find the link..." I pulled out my iPad and began to open a browser, only for the thing to go dead. "Oh. Well, flark, this thing needs to be charged. Hold on."

"Let me do it," my brother sighed, holding out his hand.

I glared at him. "What?" I'm very protective of my electronics, ever since my iPhone literally got nabbed right out of my hands.

"Do you really think you can plug something in in your condition?"

My ears flicked back briefly. "....fiiiiiiiiine." Grumbling, I handed him my electronics and watched as he headed for a wall socket. To his credit, he sat next to the iPad while it was charging.

Harold--the Pinkie cosplayer--cleared his throat. "Can you tell us the facebook address anyway?"

"I can't remember it off the top of my head but I think her username is Erica Fluttershy." Instantly four phones were whipped out. "Eager, aren't we?"

"Hell yeah! Fluttershy is best pony!"

Linda snorted. "Gonna have to disagree with you on that one Ginny. Derpy reigns supreme."

"I've never been one to descend to arguments about such things," Jacqueline commented, "but Rarity demonstrates a degree of refinement and elegance that I find quite appealing."

I rolled my eyes and turned to Harold. "Let me guess, Pinkie is best pony?"

"No, Doctor Whooves."

That response could only be replied to with a wild take. "Wahahahah?! Doctor Whooves? Really?"

"Yeah. Problem is, if I dressed up as him everyone would think I was dressing up as the Doctor. So I took the next best thing."

"I'm flattered," I deadpanned.

"Darling, it is incredibly rude to tell somepony they are number two." Jacqueline sipped her coffee in a distinctly ladylike manner. "I still say you would make a good Big Macintosh."

"Have to agree with that," I confirmed. "You're big, you're a redhead, and... hey do you work out?"

"Ti kwon do."

"Ha! So you can buck apples!" My resulting giggles sounded like they came right off the show. "You should totally try to be Big Mac someday it would be completely awesome and hey maybe you'll actually become Big Mac because of all the ponyfications going around and actually get to buck some apples and I just realized that if you're like Big Mac and you're dressed like me OH MY GOSH Big Mac cosplaying as Pinkie Pie that would be hilarious and--"

My eyes shot wide.

"...I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"Yes, and it's fu--freaking adorable!" Ginny gave out a little fangirl squee.

"...Excuse me, I need to use the little filly's room."

I left the table in silence, walking to the back of the restaurant and opening the appropriate door. It was a little odd, stepping into a room that society had long dictated I should be banned from, but that feeling was covered more by my dazed shock at what had just happened. I lifted myself up against the sink, peering into the mirror at my pink fuzzy face.

"...What am I now?"

We stared at each other, pony and reflection, for quite some time.

Eventually there was a knock at the door. "Hey Reid?" It was Linda's voice. "That's your name right? You okay in there?"

"...Uh, yeah! Just... I was a guy before, kinda awkward, that's all!" I shook my head and flushed the empty toilet. The cosplayers were just being fans, and worrying them with my own neuroses would have been wrong. "Let me just wash my ha--my hooves and I'll be right out!" I slipped off the rubber pencil holders, placing them on the side of the sink, pumped some soap into my forehooves--hey, it WAS a public restaurant even if I didn't actually use the facilities-- and pushed the sink handle into the cold water position. Should these count as finger accomplishments...? Nah, I could have done them with my fist.

"Oh. Well, you know, we're all here for you if you need anything." Linda coughed. "Even, you know, personal problems."

"Oh, skreep, no! I don't think ponies even get periods!" I shuddered. "You know what, I don't want to even think about that."

She snorted. "Well, if you ever decide to shake off your manly cowardice or start bleeding between your legs, let me know." Her footsteps clicked away.

I glanced at the mirror. "Yeah, Reid, count your blessings. At least it's fall..."

Soon enough I exited, finger pencils once again in place, and rejoined the cosplayers at their table. They and my brother were busily discussing World of Warcraft things.

"Look, Holy Light is great but if you're going up against a monster twenty levels above you you need a constant heal, not a one-shot spell." My brother shrugged. "Mathematically, it's better in the long run."

"But Paladin's Blessing only works when you're in aura range," Jacqueline countered. "Which means you have to get close to the boss in order to heal, which is suicidal if you're not a tank."

"But Tanks are the one that need heals the most. I don't see the problem."

"What about melee DPSers?" I interjected, sliding back into my chair.

"As long as the tanks keep aggro on them the DPSers are pretty much in the clear." My brother gave me a glance. "You don't even play WoW."

"Doesn't mean I'm not versed in WoW theory. You know, learning for my own video games."

Harold gave me a surprised look. "You make video games?"

"Well, design... I don't actually have anything published. Mostly ideas I'm working on." I waved a hoof dismissive hoof. "I'm a big fan of Extra Credits, though, they give out great advice."

"I've never heard of Extra Credits."

"Online semi-animated lectures on video game design. Range from three to ten minutes per episode."

"Sounds neat."

Jacqueline leaned back into her chair. "Anyway... my point is, sometimes it's better to retreat and heal then try to keep chipping away."

"What if the boss has regeneration?"

She gave my brother a flat look. "All the bosses have regeneration, Ian, that's why the buffers cast Status Effects!"

Oh, I forgot to mention. Ian is my brother's name.

Speech! Speech! Speech!

The cosplayers had agreed to take turns riding in the Pinkiemobile (which was silver, but whatever) and of course Ginny had somehow managed to pull the world's biggest puppy dog eyes outside the ponified peeps for the long first leg of the journey. After the first half hour of fangirling over everything, she finally managed to calm down and I finally manged to regain my hearing. We'd spent the rest of the trip chatting about various things--Ginny proved very useful when it came to opening granola bars--and I'd learned that the girl was actually pretty warm and caring. Yeah she wasn't much like Fluttershy otherwise--swore every five sentences, couldn't go for ten minutes without talking, and had the worst singing voice ever--but you know, she was alright in her way.

Soon enough, we came to our destination for the day.

"We are now crossing the Oklahoma river," I announced in a mock dramatic voice. "Before us is Oklahoma city, capital of Oklahoma state. Presumably, the great Oklahoma pirates raided the Oklahoma palace here years before."

In the shotgun seat, Ginny snickered. "Let me guess, they were defeated by the Oklahoma Knight's Order?"

"Sadly, no." I shook my head in great sorrow. "The Oklahoma Pirates managed to evade the Oklahoma Knights when the Oklahoma mothmen rose up against the city dwellers and diverted their attention."

"We get it, Oklahoma is egotistical." Ian rolled his eyes. "There's a Hampton inn up ahead, we should take a couple of rooms for the night."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." My tail was absolutely kinked out from all the sitting I had done, feeling like it had been bent around five or six different ways. "Bed and bath, that oughta do great. Oooo! An IHOP! I know where we're gonna eat tomorrow!"

We finally pulled into the parking lot of Hampton hotel, the cosplayer's red van pulling in beside us. I took a moment to look out the window and gave a frustrated sigh; some lovely people were standing outside the hotel under a big WELCOME PINKIE banner, in various states of brony-related attire. And surrounded by Pinkie plushies.

"Okay, seriously. Did you have to announce me?" I glowered at Ginny.

"It wasn't me, I swear!"

"I've been watching her the whole time," Ian added. "She's in the clear."

I grunted, crossing my forelegs. "Alright, fine. So it wasn't, her, who could it have been?"

"One of the other cosplayers, clearly." Ian opened got out and opened my door. "Time to face your adoring fandom."

"Hey." Ginny reached over and put a hand on my shoulder. "If it gets to be too much, I'll make sure the media f--screws them over. I know people."

"...Thanks. I'll be okay." I unbuckled, breathed in deeply, and slipped on my saddlebags. "Come on Figment, let's go meet all the little me's. Maybe you can eat one of them! Or be friends with them, that would be more appropriate."

Have you ever had a crowd scream your name really loud? Neither have I! They were all screaming "Pinkie! Pinkie!" and I couldn't really turn them down. I smiled and waved, ears pressed flat against my skull. I don't think they got the message that this could, you know, be the end of all things. Or maybe they were trying to encourage me. Or maybe they were trying to encourage Pinkie. Or maybe they just wanted to shower me with flowers for no reason whatsoever.

I took a few of the extra big bouquets in my mouth, handing them off to Ginny. "Go inside, get us two rooms, and please don't tell anyone which ones they are."

Ginny nodded, slipping into the crowd and through the hotel doors.

"Speech!"

Oh no.

"Speech! Speech! Speech!"

Oh no no no, no no no no. Please no! Nonononononono. No.

"I think it would be best to give them a speech," Ian noted.

Traitor.

"What do I say?"

"Um... Smile smile smile?"

I kicked his leg, still grinning at the Pinkie admirers. "I get they want something Pinkieish but I don't have any idea what--"

Jacqueline walked up then. "I'm sorry, I just wanted it to be friends and family. If I had known that--"

'We'll talk later, what do I do now?" My smile was faltering against the constant noise.

She shrugged. "Smile smile smile?"

"You know what I like about this fandom?" I snarked. "Its originality."

"Come on, SPEECH!"

"Look, I really am--"

I held up a hoof. "No wait... I had something there. Hold on..."

Shrugging off my saddlebags, stood up on my rear legs. It took a few seconds to catch my balance--I surreptitiously wrapped my tail around a nearby pillar--but I managed to spread my forehooves in a placating gesture. "Fillies and Gentlecolts!"

The assembled assemblage stopped their chanting, watching with bated breath. I could hear myself thinking again; my ears rose back into their usual position.

"First of all, thank you for this... overwhelming display of support and adoration, I cannot hope to thank you enough! When crazy and discordant events happen, it is the community that we turn to, and I have never been anything but proud of this community, this fellowship that calls itself the Bronies. Even the darkest amongst us will curb their temper to help another, and I have no doubt that every one of you would willingly step forward to help a foal in need."

"Love and Tolerate!" shouted one of them.

"Yes, love and tolerate. And what is love but the greatest sacrifice? This transformation has been an ordeal for a number of people, who may be hiding in their homes in fear of what they will face. If you encounter any more of these ponified individuals, I ask you thus: Be kind to them, and help where they cannot help themselves. Have it in your heart to give generously, as most forms of identification would be rendered invalid by their shift. Don't let your loyalties conflict, place their needs before your admiration. Be honest with them and with yourselves, so that you don't accidentally hurt their psyches."

Jacqueline flinched.

"...Make sure they know they have a true friend in you, not merely an admirer," I continued. "And of course... let them see the laughter and joy in the natural world."

Silence greeted my proclamation.

"Oh.... and tip your waiters, look both ways before crossing the street, and remember to pay your taxes on time! Or Auntie Pinkie will bring live ducks to your house."

They stared at me for a few seconds. I smiled back at them.

Then one of them snorted. The snort became a snigger, then a chuckle, then a full out laugh.

Oh thank God.

As the rest of the crowd joined in the laughter, I bowed and intentionally flailed onto my face. That got them laughing even more, which I took to be a good sign.

I slipped on my saddlebags and walked into the hotel. Ginny was there, clenching her hands nervously.

"Did you get the rooms?"

"Yes. Did you do all right out there?"

"They got what they needed and what they wanted." I yawned. "Oh, wow, has it really been that long?"

"Here, let me take you to your room." Ginny held out a hand; I put my hoof in it and followed her up the stairs.

Of course, after I put on my PJs and got into bed with Figment, Ian snapped a picture and put it on the web. Traitor... but, hey, I guess he deserved a little fun at my expense, since he was driving me everywhere, and I was too tired to care. Or do anything, actually. I was out like a light three seconds after the camera caught us.

Dreamscape

Dreams.....

A shifting miasma of colors and forms twisting into a landscape populated with clouds and creatures, each with their own story, each with their own legend. Armies move across the plains, individuals slither through the halls of ruined space stations, magic screams through the sky...

You have to understand as a writer, I don't get the normal boring flying dreams or wander through the mysterious restaurant dreams. Well not anymore, anyway. It's a lot more epic in my sleep, where I can follow any one character throughout a day or a year. Heck, I even met Discord once! No lie! Basically, take the sterotypical LSD experience but let the user remain focused, and you have my dreams.

Yes. I am a freak.

Anywho, the night's dream started off pretty normally for me, with a sort of spectral hound dragon thing leaping between floating chunks of red rock against a starry background. I followed in its path, tracing some half formed symbol out of the wake of its constant jumps--

"Hi there!"

Spectral hound dragon thing and I both stopped dead and stared. There was a smiling pink pony standing in front of us, looking as if she had just stepped off a flannelgraph and environmentally quite disparate to her surroundings.

"Hey, so which of you is Reid? I need to talk to him like really really really soon, it's kinda important."

The spectral dragon wolf thing gave me a long, slow look, before bounding away into the night.

"Coward! See if I write you into any stories, hmmph." I turned back to the felt pony. "Alright. So let me guess, you're Pinkie Pie."

"Yeperoni! Well, not exactly. It's sort of a maybe thing. Why are you only hands?"

That question came out of the blue. I glanced down at my hands, examining them. "I don't... understand what you mean--"

"I mean why don't you have a face?" Pinkie tilted her head. "You've got this sort of black thing that kinda looks like the center on an eye but it's just floating there and then there's all this woooOOOooo stuff that goes straight to the hands. It's not really creepy, but it is kinda weird."

"You do know I don't keep mirrors in my dreams, right?" I snorted. "Great. Now this is a lucid dream, it'll take me a while to get my creative energies flowing again. What do you want?"

"I wanna talk! About us! About what's going on here!"

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, so--"

"See, this is what I mean! I saw you roll your eyes, but you don't have eyes, so it was more of a feeling of eye-rolling than real eye-rolling and I'm kinda thinking that's part of the problem here!"

"What problem? There is no problem here, I don't know what you're talking about!"

The felt pony managed to give me a deadpan look. "Really. You don't have a problem? Not after that whole 'Pinkie give us a speech' thing back there?"

"...I've always been bad with crowds. They were being loud. And I handled that pretty well--"

"Hey guess what? I'm in your head! I can see how you think! And it's amazing!" She danced around me, giggling happily. "You've got these micronodes of environments and entire fictional ecologies swirling in a constant web of music and light and dark, like this wonderful amazing forest of vines and wires populated by singing immortal monkey caterpillars, or a setting where the hero only has a small amount of information and is destined to become a major politcal player for THREE different species of aliens, or the whole plethora of your pony OCs!"

I shrugged, a bit of warmth in my heart. "Well, yeah. I like to build worlds, it's what I do--"

"But which node is yours?"

"They're all mine--"

The felt pony pushed me to the ground. "No! They're all theirs! You make the worlds for them! Your characters! The vast majority don't even know you exist! The ones that do want to KILL YOU! And then, when I come along, you ignore me entirely!"

I looked up at her. "So, what's wrong with that? I don't hate you, I just want to stay me."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Reid Xansta Priddy, that's who I am!"

Pinkie snorted. "No, that's just a name. Pinkie Pie, Pinkimena, the Pink one--don't think I didn't see that title, mister, I've had time to poke around here! Doesn't matter what you call me, I know who I am," she finished proudly.

"You don't know who you are. This is a dream. You are a figment of my imagination. A representation of my fear."

"Am I?"

I pushed her off. "Look. We're fighting. This isn't right. We have to work together to get through this, whether or not you're real."

"That's what I'm saying! Why are you ignoring me?"

"I'm not ignoring you!"

"Don't you like me?"

"Of course I do! I wrote the Psychologest series, and after this whole thing is over I'm going to keep writing them!"

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, about that. Why do chapters take so long? I mean you plunked out the Derpy and Lyra chapters really quickly but with Trixie--"

"The more screen time a pony has, the more complicated their issues. And since Pinkie is supposed to use her zanyness in the treatment, I have to focus it down." I waved a hand dismissively. "I haven't even figured out exactly what the next pony will have, it's just a general depression."

"You could have her look at Cadance's wedding and say something like 'Maybe I should date'."

"That..." I paused. "Wow, that could actually work, thanks."

"Welcome." Pinkie smiled. "So, anyway, I just want you to let me out a little more often and stop having panic attacks whenever you slip into character. I'm the element of laughter, the whole freak out thing is totally not me."

"Party of One."

"Cutie Mark Failure Insanity Syndrome. Doesn't count."

"Touche.... speaking of cutie marks, do I have to make parties or anything?"

Pinkie tilted her head. "I dunno. I'm new to this too. Maybe you can ask Erishy when you meet her."

"Or I could ask her over the internet."

"But you won't, because you don't want to worry her."

I sighed. "Yeah... you're right. She's going through so much already... At least I think she is, that's how these things usually work in the fanfics."

"Hey, do you think we're in a fanfic?"

"Infinite universe therom: Everything happens somewhere. So, no. But also yes."

"Oh, it depends on where you're standing! I get it."

"Relative fictionality. I was actually working on a musical number for you where you explain it."

"Neat!" Pinkie yawned. "Well anyways, you're about to wake up soon."

"What? My dreams usually last for hours!"

"Yeeeeeeah... um, about that..." Pinkie rubbed her mane sheepishly. "Side effect of being a pony, short dreams. Also, sorry about the pillow."

"What?"

"Okay, I'll cap off with this:"

She looked me in the eyes.

"Who are you?"

My eyes snapped open in the early morning dark, as I clutched Figment to my chest and breathed heavily. For some reason, I just... just couldn't think. My ears were pinned against my skull as I tried to keep myself from leaping up and screaming.

Eventually, I brought my heart rate down to normal. "Juths a shreamth..."

There was a quiet moment.

"....Wha eh enth ma mawth?"

The IHOP incident

Do not ask how I unconsciously managed to stuff an entire pillow into my oral cavity without ever noticing. I don't know how it happened. All I know is that I had to pull the thing out with my hooves and hope like heck the hotel didn't raise the cost of the room because of the pony spit. After all that had happened the day before, I decided to start my day off right: With a nice warm bath in the hotel-provided restroom.

Insert cartoonish failure at bathing here. This is not something I even want to talk about.

Eventually I dragged myself out of the tub, shivering and covered in soap suds, electrical burns, and more then a few bruises, some in places that are impossible to have with human anatomy. I shook myself dry, doggy style; I just wasn't in the mood to try something as fiddly as toweling myself off. Then I gave one last glance to the mirror to ensure I wasn't straight-maned or anything before trotting out into the still-dark main bedroom.

My brother was still sleeping in the pre-dawn dark, so I decided to just get dressed; after that, I pulled out my iPad. After all, I hadn't checked Erica's messages since yesterday, and she was... I dunno, maybe I was just feeling the "This is somepony who understands" vibe. I opened a reply to my previous comment.

Shining Armor? Really? I tapped my chin, considering how to reply to this new information. In the end, I just shrugged it off; aside from not driving, there didn't seem to be any major bits of advice or anything that affected me yet in there.

Still, I opened up a reply; the talking horse, at least, deserved some acknowledgment.

I thought back to my dream and the whole felt pony interaction. Very briefly, I considered just telling her about it, but I decided against it; Felt Pinkie had been right when she said I didn't want to worry Erishy. Maybe I could kind of hint at it though...

My eyes drifted to the calender in the corner of the room. I snorted, remembering a bit late that Discord had shifted some records around for his own inscrutable purposes. Well, best to use that against him!

I furrowed my brow. No, the first one of those videos had that hideous evil Pinkie image, and this was Fluttershy's counterpart I was talking to. My hoof tapped the delete key until the last sentence fragment was gone.

Was there anything else I should tell her about? Oh. Oh yeah...

I paused in my typing to open up a new tab and do a quick google search.

With that, I seen the message off through the magic of the internet. The sun had finally begun to rise, light slithering through the blinds as I carefully assembled my saddlebags and their contents. Ian sat up slowly, stretching in the morning light. "You're up early... I guess some things never change."

"That's me, perpetual insomniac! I hibernate on weekends though."

"It is so weird to hear Pinkie say that." He blinked away his sleep as he swung out of bed, dusting off his clothes. "I'm going to go take a bath, then we should be ready to go."

"Don't forget, we're going to go eat at IHOP!"

"Pinkie Pie at an IHOP." He snorted. "I don't see how that could possibly go wrong."

"Oh don't jinx it. I can see a number of ways. Rabid bronies, burnt pancakes, the wrong syrup, somebody accidentally serving me coffee..." I rolled my eyes. "Trust me, I am ready for anything."

Oh how wrong I was.

Very slowly, I slid my tongue up my face until I had gripped the pancake. Then I brought it carefully into my mouth and began chewing.

With my vision no longer blocked, I took in the situation. Jacqueline's fork was hovering inches from her mouth, frozen in shock as the syrup slid down her form. Ginny had put a comforting hand on her shoulder, while Linda had buried her face in her own palms. Harold and Ian stood of to the side, cautiously watching the unconscious man that lied shirtless between them. The breeze whispered through the shattered window, twitching a few of the wires on the now partially crushed mechinism laying on the ground. In the corner, a policeman slowly lowered his gun as the gazelle he had been covering chose to take the time to nom on some hash browns.

The manager was halfway out of his office, horror on his features.

I felt my tail twitch and quietly slid to the side. A toaster landed next to me and caught fire.

Finally, I swallowed and cleared my throat. "I think it would be best if we packed up this breakfast and ate it on the road."

The manager nodded, slowly. "It's... it's on the house." The gazelle paused to glance at him before returning to the hash browns.

I nodded at him. "Thank you for being so gracious. Come on, peeps, let's move out."

We maneuvered around the assemblage of pony plushies on the floor, getting the take-out boxes and... really, you had to have been there. I'm pretty sure there's a video on youtube somewhere, go google it.

On the Road Again

The IHOP incident may have influenced my decision to let Jacqueline be the shotgun rider on our way to Wichita. That, and the fact I had yet to chew her out over the Pinkie Fan gathering. I mean, really? It was still DAY ONE for me! Of course I decided to let her recover before I did any talking, seeing as she reacted to the ruination of her dress in a rather... actually heart-breaking manner.

...basically, she just slumped down and muttered something about working for three days on the thing. It's an artist thing, okay? If you're an artist, you just feel for your creations. I couldn't really do anything to help her, but I hoped the gesture would at least be comforting. I suck at this sort of thing.

Anyway, there we all were, on the two hour drive to Wichita. Do you know what that means? YES! MONTAGE TIME!

"...and that's the last of the pancakes."

"I still have no idea how you do that," Jacqueline commented. "I've been watching you eat the things, but the way you just stuff them whole down your mouth--"

"I'm pretty sure my jaw unhinges." I tapped my cheek meaningfully. "Heck, I think all of Pinkie's bones are a little bit loose. They feel that way to me."

"How do you mean?"

"...well, I cracked my knuckles a lot when I was human," I admitted. "The bone snapping sound was kinda comforting. I can't actually find anything like that with this new body though."

She looked at me as though I was nuts.

"He used to bite down on turkey bones," my brother helpfully added. "Crack them open and lick out the marrow."

"Marrow tastes good!" I protested. "Well, tasted. It's meat now so I guess--"

"No. Stop." Jacqueline turned back to watching the road, just a titch green. "I don't want to hear about this."

There were a few minutes of silence.

"...you know, I did eventually figure out how to pop my wrists--"

"NO NOT LISTENING LALALALALALALALALALA!"

I sighed, realizing I might have done more harm with that video then good. Then I opened up a tab to reply.

Just after I sent it off, there was another beep. I blinked, opening the new message:

Heh... typical Fluttershy. Or maybe Erica. I knew nothing about her... either way, though, it seemed kind of foolish to me not to charge for celebrity photos. I tapped open the response button again.

After a moment, I added

Then I sent the reply off. Wow. Facebook wasn't nearly as overwhelming as I remembered it! Maybe it was only because I was focusing on only one profile, though.

Ian gave me a glance in the rearview mirror. "What are you giggling about back there?"

"Oh, Fluttershy being Fluttershy." I gave Jacqueline a look. "You don't mind paying her if she lets you take pictures with her, do you?"

"Oh, not at all. I pay all the celebrities at the cons when they let me photoshoot with them."

My brother rolled his eyes. "Strictly speaking, that's not necessary."

"It just feels like a decent thing to do after they spend so much getting fawned over by large crowds."

I gave her a sly look. "So, are you going to pay me for that thing back in Oklahoma city?"

Wordlessly, she handed me five twenties.

"...Wow, I was actually just kidding. Um... thanks..."

It had been quiet for far too long. I began to tap my hoof against the armrest, starting up a rhythm.

"...There's no need to justify, the meaningless destruction. The voices always tell me that, It's how I'm meant to func-tion."

Jacqueline gave me a confused look. "I don't think I know that one."

"Homestuck music."

"Homestuck... I'm sorry, what is--?"

"It's an internet epic, by which I mean it hits all the points required to be considered an epic in literature aside from being an actual book and is only possible with the advent of the internet. It's rather foul in tongue on occasion, though, and quite bloody sometimes." I opened up a tab on my iPad. "The music is excellent though. The majority is instrumental, and even some of the ones with lyrics are nice. Maybe I should send Erica the link to the Squiddles album."

Ian rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't. It's cutesie on the surface but that last track is just..."

"Hence the joke! It'd be a great prank!"

Jacquiline coughed. "I don't think sending her something like that would be a good idea. She is sensitive, you know."

I slumped into my seat. "Oh.... fine." Honestly, I couldn't wait to meet the other Manes, just so I could swap jokes with them about our situation without worrying about offending them. Erica was nice and all, but... yeah.

"I say that Shepard should have ended up with Tali. The way he cared for her was obviously deep."

"I'm not arguing that, but I think they have more of a father-daughter relationship. Liara seemed to connect on a deeper level."

Jacqueline sniffed. "Or perhaps you like her simply because she appeared nude."

"Okay, no, it's not that at all." Ian rapped the steering wheel empathetically. "Liara just seemed more mature, and Shepard was, after all, an adult. Going with Tali is kinda pedophilia."

"It is not! Tali is a mature woman."

"They met up on her pilgrimage. Tali is a teen."

"Was. Not by the third game."

I groaned. "Guys, you realize that Shepard basically dies at the end, right? No matter who he ships with, somebody's going to end up brokenhearted."

"Well, what would you do? Have him remain abstinent?"

I nodded empathetically. "Yes, actually. I mean he never struck me as a romantic in the first place, and after Cerberus was done with him it's not likely he could actually, you know, have kids anymore. Add the whole thing with the Reapers and what sane individual would try to maintain a relationship?"

They both looked at me as though I was nuts.

"...I prefer Femshep anyway."

The car and van both pulled into the parking lot of the Wichita Kmart. We all bundled out, me shaking the kinks out of my tail, and gathered together."

"We need to buy some more snacks for the road," Linda began unceremoniously. "Vegetarian for Pinkie--"

"My name is Reid."

"...for Reid, and whatever for the rest of us."

"Also, I can't handle wrappers well," I added. "So, um... apples and non-wrapped things."

Ginny gave me a sympathetic look. "Did you try eating the flowers? You know, from the Oklahoma thing."

"Uh... no, actually, now that you mention it, I guess I could."

Harold glanced around the parking lot. "Maybe you should stay out here. With all the people around it might be--"

"No, I need to stretch my legs. I'll stick around the toy aisles and play with the kiddos, you guys handle the noms."

Ian sighed. "I'll go with him, make sure he doesn't cause an incident."

Jacqueline nodded. "That would be best."

I gave her a flat look. "And what, praytell, is that supposed to mean?"

"You're the kind of person that would crack open turkey legs to get at the marrow."

Ginny recoiled at that statement. "What? Ew! That's f--damn gross! Reid would never--"

"Marrow is soft and yummy," I deadpanned. "Seriously, what's wrong with it?"

"....okay, yeah, I'm sticking to the grocery aisles and making sure you get normal food."

Thus organized, we entered the supermarket. The cosplayers broke away to head for the vegtables, while Ian and I headed for the toys. I practically bounded into the lego aisle, ignoring the odd looks I got from some of the little boys who did not feel comfortable at all with a pink pony next to them. "Oh my gosh. Look at this, look! They've got the new Hero Factory titans here!"

"Reid... you don't have hands."

I ran a hoof gently across one of the boxes. "Look at that piece count, Ian. One Hundred and Ninety Two. Lego is remembering what made Bionicle great...."

"I have to remind you that you don't have fingers."

"Oh my gosh. It's green. Maybe I can use him to spruce up that MOC of mine... he's been needing more support joints... don't know what I'd do with the wheels."

"Hooves, Reid. Hooves and legos."

I sighed. "Yeah, I know." With one last longing gaze at the box, I walked out of the aisle and headed for the Hasbro section. But I paused when something green caught my eye.

"Oh... my... gosh."

Hulk gloves.

Actual, real foam hulk gloves.

I snatched the things up. "Yes. These will be perfect for Erica!"

Ian gave me a confused look. "Oooooookay....?"

"Don't you see? The Avengers had six, the Mane Cast has six, and Fluttershy is totally the Hulk!"

"Alright, I can see the analogy." He gave me a look. "Who's Pinkie?"

"By process of elimination, Hawkeye."

My brother shrugged. "Whatever you say..."

"Yes.... and now Death Battle will HAVE to do the Avengers versus Mane Cast episode. Ha. Haha. HahahAhahaheeehahaHAHAHAHhahaHA!" I clutched the gloves with a maniac grin. "MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!"

After a moment, Ian rolled his eyes. "You done?"

"No, wait, I have more. AHAHAhahah HA ha HEE HEEE HEE ha ha ha HAHAHABWAHA ha ha haHAAAAAAA!"

He crossed his arms.

"...okay, now I'm done." I flung the thing onto my back and pointed dramatically. "To the pony aisle!"

We walked into the suffocatingly pink region and instantly I was swarmed by little girls. I ruffled their hair affectionately, smiled a bit, made sure the little kids in the back got a chance to come forward for hugs, posed for pics with this adorable set of red-headed triplets, and reminded them all to listen to their parents. "They're old, they're a bit serious sometimes, but trust me when I say you'll have more fun listening to them than trying to break the rules!"

The moms kept it all under control, for the most part. One of the little kids tried to ride me and threw a tantrum when I just stood there, but that was pretty much the worst of it. A few Bronies also ran crowd control, mostly in the form of distracting the kids and buying them blind bags when I had to move on to the next tyke.

Eventually we got to the other end, and I mimed glancing at a watch. "Wow, is it that time already? Sorry kiddos, Auntie Pinkie has to go and find her friends so we can keep going on an epic road trip!" There was a course of disappointed groans. "Hey now, no frowny faces! Keep those smiles up and who knows? You might see me again!"

With a final wave, I turned and trotted around a corner. As soon as Ian and I were out of sight, we practically bolted to the grocery section.

"Okay that was absolutely weird and crazy. I mean, I know they're the target demographic but still! If I was in my original body all of that would have come across as..." I shuddered.

"Yeah. I guess it's one of the benefits of being a living plushie."

"Hardy har har." That comment earned him a light swat to the knee, but I was smirking a bit. "Eh, they had fun I suppose. Sort of like a Disneyland thing. You remember the talking trash can?"

"Oh yeah."

"I loved the talking trash can. He was so snarky, but the way he came off was absolutely..."

We turned the corner and slowed to a halt. In front of us were the cosplayers; Ginny sobbing in Jacqueline's arms, Harold holding his wig in his hands, and Linda leaning against the shopping cart with a dead look on her face.

"...What happened?"

Linda didn't even look at me. "Fluttershy's been shot."

My mane went flat with an inappropriately humorous noise.

My Mane Is Straight

"....Where." My voice had none of Pinkie's usual shine or expression.

Linda pulled out her phone and typed in a query soundlessly. "The city of Salina."

"And where is that, relative to here?"

"It's... directly north of here, about an hour's drive."

I nodded, examining the group once more. An image appeared in my head--a flannelgraph picture of Pinkie lying on her hooves and producing ocular gushers. I took a steadying breath, pushing it aside. "Right. Harold, you take Ginny and Jacqueline to the van. Linda, We're going to purchase the groceries--" I bucked the hulk gloves into the cart-- "and that, and we'll head out. Keep whatever Harold needs in a separate bag and hand it off when we get out; you'll be riding shotgun for this next leg."

"Reid, are you okay?"

I flicked my ears back and glanced at my brother. "No. But that doesn't matter. We need to get on the road now." Without sparing any of them a second glance I trotted for the front of the store.

What was I feeling? There was a crystal in my head, that's what I was feeling. Every motion was built for maximum efficiency, my eyes pointed only forward in a half lidded frown. I pulled my hood up over my flat mane, letting my ears press against my skull. Occasionally I felt something brush against the inner skull, soft and spiny and flailing.... dark thoughts, on how exactly I was going to extract vengeance, idle dreams of slowly peeling the skin from their legs with a doctor on hand to make sure they remained conscious. Equally as often a cold splash would rebound in my cranium; was she curled up, sobbing? Was she unconscious? Has they broken her legs?

All of these thoughts, though, I overrode with a simple statement: We are not there. This is inefficient.

The cosplayers passed by me as I waited in line, ignoring the stares of the various other customers. A few people had their picture phones out; later, when I had calmed down enough to explore the internet, I found that the pictures of me in that line were actually quite disturbing. The captions often read something along the lines of "let's make cupcakes" or "My name is Pinkimena Diane Pie. You Hurt My Fluttershy. Prepare to Die."

And to be honest, that kind of was what I was thinking, except I inserted the step of getting there before the actual baking. Thinking is actually not a good word... it was more like calculating.

Ian put a hand on my shoulder. "Maybe you should check up on her. That's something you can do while you're here."

"We all sent her facebook messages," Linda added. "Well, Ginny wasn't... able to, but the rest of us did. She hasn't replied yet, but if she does--"

"You will inform me." I nodded once in understanding. "I left my iPad in the car. I'll send her a message when we head out."

At that point, we had arrived at the checkout. The cashier was initially overjoyed to see me, but when she caught sight of my darkened fur her enthusiasm plummeted. Linda gently informed her of the news.

She reached out and took my hoof in her hand. "I hope everything will be okay."

I kept silent.

We moved quickly to the parked vehicles, Jacqueline having already buckled Ginny in and still holding her tightly. As Linda handed Harold the groceries for his group, I couldn't help but look at the pink-haired cosplayer. Even through my self-imposed crystal, my heart tightened and pulled at my ribs. Eventually I pulled Figment out of the car, gave him a brief but firm hug, and gently placed him in Ginny's lap.

Something else I could do, at least...

Then I clambered into my seat, retrieving my iPad and taking a deep breath.

Just as I hit the send button, Linda's phone beeped. She gave it a glance. "Shy's replied. Apparently the attackers were some anti-pony terrorists, but she knocked them all out... somehow." She flicked through the internet search bar briefly. "Also... she's using the news coverage to tell everyone she's fine."

I shook my head. "Of course. It's totally in character for Fluttershy to lie and spare the nation any worry." It's what I would do, I added silently. It's... what I've been doing.

Linda glowered at me as we pulled out of the parking lot. "You know, for the Element of Laughter you're awfully depressing sometimes."

"I don't laugh when things aren't funny." My hoof went to my mane, stroking it meaningfully. "And right now things are extremely nonhilarious."

"Could you try to show some emotion?! I don't care if you were a psychopath before all this, an innocent person has been attacked for no good reason whatsoever!"

"I am aware of this fact. Nothing I can do can change what has happened."

My brother sighed. "Forget it. He's not going to be able to focus on anything impractical for a while." He took a deep breath. "He was like this when we lost Disney."

"Who?"

"Our pet cat. Had him since Reid was six, and then one day he just vanished..."

I tuned them out, focusing on the iPad and its sudden beeping. Erica had replied, and rather quickly too. Some part of me relaxed just a bit, realizing if she was still able to type things she had to be conscious and mostly unharmed. Still, I decided to open the reply before I completely lost myself.

I disassembled this new information. Obtained element, used as bullet-proof armor. Reason behind element gain: Unknown. Element knocked out thugs.... reasonable. Her improved demeanor could easily be a response to the element's sudden presence, or maybe the cause of it....

The part that really worried me, though, was that one sentence. Also, call me Ericashy. That had so many implications woven into it... was she still even there? Did Fluttershy swallow her up? Or was she retreating into the demure instincts as a coping mechanism? Did this happen before or after she got her magic necklace?

Could it happen to me?

I stared at the screeen, letting my thoughts roll about and attach themselves to the crystal wall. I didn't know what to do. Finally, I opened up a new reply tab.

Our little caravan left Wichita in silence.