Hey look I'm alive.

>Day 1807
>You hop out of bed at the crack of noon.  Shit is so cash.
>You creep up to the window and glance left and right.  The coast is clear.
>Shut windows.  Shut curtains.  Open secret floorboard compartment.
>Bacon.  GLORIOUS bacon.  The ponies don't believe in eating meat, and although they've assured you they won't arrest you or anything, it's still pretty goddamn taboo.
>So you keep it secret.  You have a stash of bacon that you dip into now and then, and nop0ny has to know.
>It sizzles against the pan and all your troubles melt away.  Today is going to be a good day.

>OM NOM BACON

>You pat your stomach, quite fucking satisfied thank-you-very-much, and open the windows to discover the little flaggy thing on your mailbox is sticking up.
>You trundle on over to see who could possibly be mailing anything to you, only to be stunned at the sight of the royal seal.
>Celestia has business with you?  This is... probably not good.  Did those fuckers lie to you?  Is bacon actually illegal and you're about to get chucked into the sun?

>Dearest Anonymous,
>  I hope you have been well.  It has come to my attention that you are nearing the fifth anniversary of your arrival in Equestria.  Unfortunately, non-citizen visitors may never stay longer than this and so you must become a citizen if you intend to stay here.  There would be no issue were it not for poorly written laws and an unbelievably slow bureaucracy that refuses to allow change at a reasonable pace.  I have been trying, since before your arrival, to fix this.  Alas, no change has yet taken place.

>  I regret to inform you that there is only one path to citizenship available to you, and that is...

>FUCK.

>Well, you're pretty sure your legs aren't supposed to bend that way.  What the shit just happened?  You were reading a slightly disconcerting letter when all of a sudden there was searing pain where your brain was supposed to be and what appeared to be a crater in the ground where you/your mailbox/the letter were supposed to be.  Where is that letter, anyway?  The whole eight degree field of vision available to you right now offers no clues except for the color brown.  Maybe you should try standing up.

>AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHOHGODWHY

>Nope.  You think you're going to go with whimpering instead because you're a huge pussy who can't handle a few shattered everythings.

>"Ugh... my head... what the hay just happened?"

>It's your bro!  She's got this.  She can bring you the ponies in white coats or the funny little pills or maybe just gallons and gallons of alcohol - really, anything to make the hurting stop.

>"Dacfughuuu."

>Those weren't exactly words.  You cough a few times to clear your throat, and you try again.

>"Dash!"

>"Huh?  Anon?"

>Suddenly, a bright light!  You remember something about how you shouldn't go toward it, but then your vision clears up a bit and you realize it's vaguely possible to turn your head.
>You look around a bit and realize your body has been pounded into the ground harder than *insert some sort of really unpleasant prison rape metaphor here*.
>Dash grabs your arm and pulls you up a bit, but at the cost of the remainder of your will to not cry like a bitch.
>You proceed to cry like a little bitch.  Shit hurts.
>She looks you over and slaps you upside the head.

>"Seriously?  I've SLEPT through worse."

>"Heh... I dunno what you're talking about."

>"You're crying.  Babby get a boo-boo?"

>"I'm not... I'm not crying.  I've just got a shitload of dirt in my eye."

>That's not actually a lie, so score one you?  Congratulations.  You successfully pretended you weren't crying.

>"Seriously, walk it off.  If you really can't handle it, I guess we can get hammered until you can."

>You sniff back the last few traces of your pathetic inability to cope with pain.

>"S...sure.  You wanna help me find my letter first?"

>"Is that what you were doing out here?  Checking the mail?"

>"Yeah, why?"

>"Oh, no reason.  I just... uh... yeah, no reason.  Did you get anything... interesting today?"

>"Yeah.  The thing I'm trying to find."

>She's sweating bullets.

>"Oh.  Um... yeah, I'll help you out."

>"Thanks, bro."

>She winces slightly at this for some reason.  Does she have some crazy phobia?  Like, scared to death of letters or mailboxes or some ridiculous shit like that?
>Whatever.  She takes off like a rocket scanning the area faster than you can even goddamn blink.
>She stops dead in her tracks, hunched over something for a few seconds, before she sighs heavily and turns to face you.
>She looks a lot better all of a sudden.

>"Here ya go, Anon.  The Princess, eh?  What'd you do this time?"

>"Nothing.  Just some bullshit about Equestrian citizenship laws and how I'm going to be forcibly removed if I don't jump through some hoops."

>"Awesome.  I've always wanted to see you make a complete idiot out of yourself for the amusement of ponies.  Oh wait, no, not always wanted.  Always enjoyed."

>"Har-de-fucking-har."

>"Because you do it CONSTANTLY.  See, it's even funnier when I explain the joke."

>"Yeah.  Hilarious.  So, drinking?"

>"In a bit.  First I wanna know exactly what kinda hoops you need to jump through here.  I didn't exactly read the thing when I..."

>As she's talking, she leans in to get a look at it and just kinda stops talking.  Her face goes completely red.
>You scan down to the end of the letter to get a look at what just spooked The Dash when you see it.
>There's no way the letters are in any way out of the ordinary, but you can't convince yourself they aren't six font sizes larger and highlighted in bright neon green.

>  You must marry an Equestrian citizen.

>Well fuck.  For about a quarter of a second, your head is filled with visions of you making out with ponies.  Are you wearing the wrong size pants suddenly?  No, shit dammit, you're not a furry.  Relax, people have sham marriages all the time for green cards.  No need for anything real, just enough to give the ILLUSION that it's real.
>...Your bro always has your back, right?

>"Hey Dash?"
>She looks at you with WIDE eyes, the red still not drained from her face.
>"Could you do me a huge-ass favor?"
>Her eyes somehow widen further and she sits completely still for about four seconds before disappearing in a plume of dust.
>Shit, she must have gotten the wrong idea.  You don't want to ACTUALLY marry her, you just want to tell everyp0ny that you two are totally in love forrealsies.
>Now that you think about it, you can see how someone with a reputation like The Dash might be averse to the idea.
>Fuck, you can't ask your bro to destroy her cred like that.  Gotta find some other pony for this bullshit.  Maybe Pinkie?  She's pretty cool sometimes and isn't afraid to do/say the WEIRDEST shit.
>Off to the confectionary, to bake up some sweet sweet lies.

>"Hey Pinkie, wanna pretend to get married?"
>"Ooh, can we also pretend to have kids and then pretend I cheated on you and you called me a stupid whore and hit me and then we had the most incredibly hot, nasty makeup sex ever?"
>"...Uh, maybe?  But I think we should probably pretend one step at a time?"
>"Yeah, that sounds fair.  Why do you want to pretend to get hitched?"
>"I need Equestrian citizenship."
>She scowls at you.

>"You mean you want to pretend FOR REAL?  Anon, how dare you!  Pretend is all fun and games, but when you pretend for real you undermine the sanctity of the real for real!  Do you want to destroy the institution of marriage?  Do you want transgendered toasters marrying asexual bacteria?  DO YOU?  'Cuz I don't!  I mean, yeah, I want to throw parties for marriages like that because those would be totally bitchin', but I can throw a real party for a pretend event without the pretend being pretend for real!  So since pretend not for real can still party, then the only thing pretend for real does is ruin the foundations of this country!"

>Is she serious?  She looks serious.  You're... really unsure how to deal with... that.  You decide to back away slowly while nodding.  You think she mentioned Nazis in there somewhere after you stopped listening.  You no longer want to pretend marry Pinkie, even if it's pretend not for real.

>After you've put enough distance between you that you feel safe again, you turn around.  Your timing is incredible, because you just booped your nose against Dash's right as she was landing.
>Her wings flare out with a weird *pomf* sort of noise.  Her face is completely red.
>She's trying really hard not to make eye contact.

>"So... Anon... I uh... the letter... you need to um... I mean, if you don't wanna leave... Oh jeez, PLEASE tell me you don't want to leave..."

>"I don't.  I want to stay right the fuck here in Ponyville.  Same house, even.  All my shit is in there and moving is a pain in the ass."

>"Um," she swallows a lump in her throat, "so you need to 'marry' somep0ny, right?"

>"Yeah.  No idea who, but definitely NOT Pinkie.  She's CRAZY."

>"Yeah?  She's Pinkie."

>"No, I mean, even more than usual.  Like, I'd be surprised if there wasn't cocaine in her breakfast this morning.  I've seen insanity before, but never on a level like that."

>"Uh-huh... okay, well, whatever's up with her, you still need to tie the knot, right?"

>"Yeah.  You got any bright ideas?"

>She swallows another lump in her throat.  "Um... me."

>"Come again?"

>Her wings are already out, so it's not really possible for them to do that *pomf* thing right now, but you'd swear they just tried.

>"I can..." she swallows ANOTHER lump in her throat.  Jeegus, there's a goddamn lump FACTORY in there.  "I can do it."

>"Oh, bro, no way.  I couldn't ask you to do that for me.  You're The Dash!  What would they say?"

>"Really... it's fine.  I can totally do this."

>"Are you sure, man?  I mean... I've still got time.  A couple weeks, I think.  This could change your life!"

>She finally makes eye contact for the first time.  "Yeah.  I'm game."

>You think about offering a brohoof, but decide that fuck if ANYTHING deserves a hug, it's this.  Bro is making a HUGE sacrifice for you.
>Shut up, bros can totally hug in a straight way.
>You step forward and wrap your arms around her.
>She's ridiculously tense for a second, but she practically melts once you apply just a little pressure.

>"Thank you, Dash.  I mean that.  You're going above and beyond the bro call of duty.  If there's ever anything I can do to repay you, let me know and I won't rest until it's done."

>A few teardrops hit your shoulder.  You didn't figure Dash to be the sentimental type, but hey, men can cry too.
>Shut the fuck up, yes they can!

>Day 1812
>You're standing as still as you can while Rarity measures you for your tux.
>For some reason or other, all of Dash's friends seem pretty cool with this.  Like, none of them are even questioning why you two would just suddenly up and get married.
>You got a quick rundown of the system and what exactly you need to do to pass the marriage off as real, and you and Dash put together a plan.
>She's going to live with you because clouds are WAY TOO GODDAMN HIGH UP FOR SOMETHING THAT CAN'T FLY and you have the whole debacle scheduled out until you'll officially be a citizen.

>So yeah, Rarity is doing whatever and you're bored out of your skull.  You kinda wish there didn't have to be a huge-ass ceremony, but apparently Equestria doesn't have the equivalent of the 24-hour Vegas marriage hut.  A thought occurs to you.

>"Hey Rarity?"

>"Mmmyes, Anon?"

>"You know what kinda lawyer pony I need to talk to to get a divorce?"

>"What's a divorce?"

>Aw, shit.  No point panicking right now, so you wait until she's done with you.
>You walk home, reasonably calmly.
>You come in the door and turn straight for the liquor cabinet.
>Dash comes trotting down the hall, having just come out of the shower.

>"Oh cool, are we getting smashed?"

>"You can if you want.  I just need this."

>"What's wrong?"

>"Do you know what a divorce is?"

>"Uh... no, but Twilight probably does."

>You take a shot.  Welp, there's a hole in your plan.  For the most part it won't be so bad.  Living with your bro will be awesome.  Actually, shit, what's the downside here?  That you can't marry some OTHER pony?  Who the fuck cares?

>The two of you get fitshaced and watch terrible movies, just like old times, until you're about ready to pass out.
>You stand up and stumble down the hall to your bedroom.
>You flop down onto your bed and close your eyes...
>Only to feel another weight flop down on top of you.
>Goddamnit.  You only have the one bed.  At least this one's easy to fix - just buy another one.

>In the morning, you worry briefly about the bacon, but it turns out that's all cool.  Dash isn't going to eat any herself, but she doesn't have a problem with it if you do.
>She does flip out and dive for the mailbox as soon as she realizes the flag is up, though.
>She yanks the mail out of there like it was the antidote to the poison she just drank, but after a second she just casually hands it to you like it ain't no thang.  But she's still covered in a sheen of sweat.

>Things become fairly routine.  Om nom bacon, Dash dives for mailbox, alcohol and movies, pass out.  You keep forgetting to buy another bed, but it's not so bad.  Dash is soft and fluffy and comfy - in your inebriated state, you might even have told her this a few times.

>Day 1825
>It's the day of the ceremony.  You're standing around in your tux, waiting for shit to get moving.  This bullshit is taking WAY too long.
>You are reaquainted, painfully, with the ground - as you were the day you got the letter.  This time, though, your field of vision is still at twelve degrees and you can actually move on of your arms!
>When the light appears and you don't go toward it, you try your best not to cry in front of... the mailmare with the funny eyes?

>"Letter!"

>You grab it and she flies off without another word.  Well that was stupidly out-of-nowhere convenient.  Like something out of bad fanfiction.
>You open the letter...

>  Uh, hey Anon.
>  I'm... I'm not good at this.
>  Also, I'm probably more than a little wasted.
>  But the girls aren't letting this one go.
>  They keep talking about how I can't hide my feelings forever.
>  That it's destroying me to do this.
>  I'm at this stupid slumber party and they just won't...
>  They're making me write this.
>  I have to do it, because otherwise I would just suffer.
>  Forever.
>
>  Maybe they're right.
>  But you know what would be way worse?
>  If I told you how I felt... how I REALLY felt...
>  and you turned me away...  I don't...
>  I don't think I'd be able to take it.
>  So I stay back because I'm afraid.
>  And I'm probably never going to send this.
>  Because I'm a coward.
>  But on the off chance you do read this?
>  I just want you to know.
>
>  I love you.

>God DAMN it why are you so FUCKING STUPID?
>Everything makes sense now!
>Or at least, everything you KNOW makes sense.
>The jury is still out on what exactly your FEELINGS are at the moment.

>You sprint out of that stupid little room and go find Dash.
>There are a few mares saying you can't see her today because blah blah tradition something something don't care.
>You walk straight up to her.

>"The mail.  Why did you keep checking it?"

>"What?  Anon, aren't-"

>"You were REALLY interested in the mail.  Why?"

>"I just... look, the girls made me write something I didn't want you to read, okay?"

>"Sure.  But then why keep checking the mail?"

>"Because I wanted to stop you from getting it."

>"So somep0ny sent it?"

>"I don't know.  It disappeared."

>Your feelings come into focus.  You know exactly what you need to do, and there is absolutely no time to waste.

>"... The wedding is off.  I'm not marrying you today."

>The way she recoils at those words... it's awful.  It's like you kicked her in the stomach.  And having kicked her in the stomach is like getting kicked in the stomach herself.  A feedback loop of agony, and not the funny kind like when you get slammed into the ground and can't stop being a bitch about it.  The truly, truly awful kind of pain.  The kind that makes some people too terrified to act or speak.
>Her eyes are welling up with tears.  You turn around and walk out, determined to find the ponies you need to see and set everything right, no matter how painful.

>Dash doesn't leave her cloud house for three days.  Ponies passing underneath can hear the occasional wail or sob, but that's the only sign of her.
>You're busy.  It hurts to see her in pain like this, but you have work to do, and so do the others.
>Finally, everything is ready.  You stand under Dash's house and yell to get her attention.

>"Go away!  I'm not home!"

>"Yes you are, and I really REALLY need to talk to you."

>"About WHAT?"

>"What do you THINK?"

>There's a brief silence, some shuffling, another silence, and then Dash slowly floats down.
>She looks awful.  Like she hasn't slept or stopped crying in days.
>You pull out her letter and drop it on the ground in front of her.
>She looks down at it, pure unfiltered horror on her face.
>Before she can break out into a renewed series of soul-wrenching tears, you drop down on one knee.

>"Dash... will you marry me?"

>Her face is confusion itself.

>"But you... the wedding... I don't..."

>"A very wise mare once told me that when you pretend for real you undermine the sanctity of the real for real.  I couldn't go through with that sham.  It wasn't... it wasn't grounded in honest feelings.  It was all lies, and you deserve better.  So very VERY much better.  In fact, that's what I've been working on.  It's cost me nearly all the bits I had to my name, and I had to call in a SHITLOAD of favors with your friends, but I did it.  If we're getting married, we're doing it right.  No expense spared on the outfits, the ceremony, the entertainment, the catering... this is gonna be big.  HUGE.  Better than the wedding between Shining Fuckwit and Princess Unimportant."

>"When?... I..."

>She's crying more than before, but the tears aren't accompanied by the wretching, sobbing motions or the awful wailing.

>"Why would you put me through that?"

>"Because I'm a retarded asshole who never thinks about the consequences of his actions or the feelings of others.  If I had one shred of common sense or empathy, I probably would have figured it out ages ago and done the right thing to begin with.  But I didn't, because I don't, because I suck.  I suck so, SO hard.  So what do you say?  Do you want to marry a dumb shit like me?"

>She kicks you in the face.
>HARD.

>"Yeah, I do.  Now get up."

>Day 1830

>"Did you ever find out how you got the letter?  Or why it didn't show up in your mailbox?  Or what cruel universe decided it should be delivered on the day of the fake wedding?"

>"I asked Twilight what happened to it.  She didn't know.  It just up and vanished one day when Spike was cleaning the place.  You know what else, though?  I checked some books on Equestrian law.  To earn citizenship, all I have to do is ask Celestia or Luna and they can grant it."

>"But isn't Celestia the one who sent you the-"

>"Yup."

>"She... wow.  WOW.  That SLY BITCH!"

>"Inorite?"