As Detailed as i like

>"You think he's dead?"

>"No, Rainbow, I already checked, he's breathing."

>"Well, maybe it's a she- just look at it!"

>"Darling, I know a stallion when I see one! That is-"

>"Rarity! Are you really going to do this?!"

>"Eh, no- sorry darling."
>The high pitched voices echoing all around you, coming from no place in particular.
>Your pounding headache had begun working its way around your body, knocking at familiar body parts, seeing if anybody was home.
>When the all-too familiar pounding found it's way to your feet, you started to see again.
>You felt the heat of the sun radiating around you, so it must be day.
>Their voices would come in and out of your mind, you knew they were saying something, but you didn't know what their words were, save for the first couple of sounds; re-assuring you that you could still process information.
>Your mind fades to black once again as your brain forgets how to work.

>When you wake up, your on a small couch, with some soup and salad on a small table.
>The first thing to come back was your sense of smell.
>You smelled the saltiness of the soup, you knew it was a vegetable soup of sorts.
>The salad, however, left you confused.
>You didn't know the smell of salad all that well, but you knew there was salad somehow.
>There was no ranch on it. Just vegetables.
>You deduce that there must be a table next to you, as the smells are coming from off the ground.
>The place you were at reminded you of your uncles pet shop in town. A little mom- and pop deal, that sold puppies for a real cheap price.
>They were so cute, you remember the fuzz of their fur on your face, their nuzzling snouts, their licking; their immediate affection, an animalistic trait imposed by humans, their companionship, an unending well of love.
>Amidst this reverie, you brain falls back asleep.
___
>When you wake up, your eyes open.
>your window's to your soul are tired, and pained. But your soul itself is lively.
>Your mind opens along with your mouth, yawning in context and yawning out your eternal relaxation.
>Your in a cottage of sorts, animals litter the area, little furry creatures littering the ground like garbage in a crackhouse.
>Whomever owned this place was either a hoarder or a hippie.
>The animals were all asleep, you note, and your soup is cold, a grand-father clock over in the far corner notes that it is about 4:35 AM.
>It's night-time, and you're energized, like you've been given a new battery.
>Probably have, for all the time you spent asleep.
>You note, you have a horrid stomach ache that wont dismiss you until you get some food.
>Reaching towards the soup, you grab the bowl, and silently sip at the substance.
>In what seems like a moment, the bowl of soup is gone, but that isn't saying much, there was maybe two cups of soup in there.
>But, for you- it was the most delicious meal you've had in a while, even though that isn't saying much, either. But It's something.
>Putting the bowl down, you disturb what looks like a Golden Retriever with wings and pink hair.
>It must not be a dog, rather- a very strange, small pony.
>You jod at the thoough, that you might in the afterlife, though it doesn't seem like much of a heaven, more rather- as if you had taken a step onto another boat, one that's different in size, shape, and crew, but a boat nonetheless, heading to the same port.
>And here you were, thinking there was no afterlife.
>the voices from earlier must have never seen something like this before, so; you deduce, this is built entirely for you, and nobody else you've ever met would have a chance of coming here.
>Your disheartened by the thought.
___
>But, you're enlightened by the fact that your thoughts themselves, realizing that you're still thinking and understanding, even though even beginning to understand what's happened would be like putting a child through college.
>It's night, you remember, and- in an effort to not wake up the master of the house's pets, you step over the small Pegasus and around all the little rabbits and other rodents that litter the ground.
>You notice that by the door is a pot of tea on an ornate silver platter and cup.
>You lift the tea kettle to find that, even though the tea is cold- it's nearly full.
>Picking up the plate, you look at the shiny specks of sugarcubes that litter themselves on the tray, presenting themselves in small pyramid like structures.
>You quietly pick one of the small structures up, and place it in front of what you assume to be the master of this house's pet, curled into a ball on the floor, right in front of where you were laying, providing you with comfort.
>it deserves a reward of sorts, for providing companionship for you.
>You decide, it is time for a walk
>You turn, and walk out of the door, making sure your Converse do not make any squeaking or creaking noises.
>You walk around, looking at the cottage behind you.
>It's half house and half tree, like a hobbit's house, except with a tree instead of a hill.
>The night is very peaceful, the moon shining bright, and full.
>You walk along the path, marveling at the architecture of this world, you couldn't have painted it better
>You pull out your Ipod, placing your earbuds in your ear, and turning it to shuffle.
>you forward passed a couple of songs that do not fit the mood, before the Beach Boys' pet sounds rings its way into your brain.
>you tuck up your jacket, re-knot your scarves, and head out to find a good view of the stars.
___
>Soon enough, you find a comfortable spot below a tree that spaces out to see the stars.
>You do not recognize the little orbs. They act as foreign as can be- twinkling and sparking, producing a defiant tone.
>You pour yourself some tea, and plop one sugarcube in it, and take a drink, not bothering to mix the cube as you know the sugar won't mix well anyway.
>You take a sip, noting that it is black tea, with a very sweet undertone.
>Even though this is sugar, it is very potent, and mixes very well. Maybe a form of nectar, you note.
>By the time pet sound's ends, you're so lost in your own thoughts that you do not realize what music you're listening to.
>You wish other humans could get this engrossed in their own mind.
__
>Soon enough the radiating warmth of daylight creeps its way onto your face.
>To you, soon is a very relative term, your little escape into your mind was no small amount of time.
>You had made some small conclusions when you were sitting there, mainly about the science that could back an afterlife.
>as Heisenberg one quoted, though-
"The first gulp of Natural Science brings Atheism, but at the bottom of the glass, god is waiting for you."
>Or, something like that.
>Maybe it was the act of a higher power, hell if you know, though-
>Once again, like putting a child through college, you really shouldn't even try.
>So you don't, mostly- you remain agnostic because belief is not the highest point of knowing, facts are.
>And the things that humans can't even begin to understand, start manifesting themselves to be beliefs.
"From beliefs come horrible things, people are way to quick to argue, about everything- even though all they have are-"
>"Opinions, one's that are not understood."
>A voice to your left startles you, but does not leave you scared after, the voice was reserved, but slightly sad sounding, normal, reserved, like a perfectly drawn circle. Her voice echoed a light amount of color, if that made any sense.
>You turn your head to see a near carbon copy, in body shape, of the one animal you had left sugar cubes last night.
>Something clicks, for whatever reason, and you understand what exactly those beings are.
>They're not animals, rather, they're sapient beings of mind as well as matter.
>You decide, that- instead of questioning her existence, you continue to conversation, in order to gain her respect, and show you are not one of prejudice, like you believe she is.
__
>She joins you, looking at the sun that's supplemented the moon.
>She begins, trying her damned hardest to sound colloquial.
>"I'm Twilight, by the way; I live in the tree behind you."
>You think of something that might provide a bit of levity. Because this meeting is, strange to say the least. And not because you're meeting a new sentient species. That would be more exciting, but this- this is just, strange.
>But, something about this feels, comforting- for whatever reason, like you two were holding an air of nostalgic sentiment, comforting casualness, like two friends meeting for the first time in fifty years.
>It was strange, one of the strangest feelings, and closing your eyes didn't help, the air itself was thick like gravy.
>without turning your head, and gazing at the horizon in the distance, you speak.
"Do all of you sleep in trees?"
>You say that last statement very nonchalantly, in a manner reminiscent in a joke said by a person who's near death.
>Definitely not the levity you were hoping for.
>"No." she says. "Most of us sleep in buildings, but me and my friend Fluttershy live in trees for the time being."
>She blinks, and her large eyelashes cast a shadow that catches the corner of your eye.
>She's sitting pretty close to you, whatever reason is unknown, her heat is pressing onto you along with the sun now.
>You have a light realization.
"You must be tired."
>Her eyes flutter a bit, and she acknowledges your comment.
>"yeah, I just woke up."
__
>You two sit, basking in the awkward tone of silence, your mind still wide awake, seeing as it saw to you getting quite a bit of sleep.
>But, there was one need that was clawing its way into the front of your mind… it was sustenance.
>The sorrowful bowl of vegetable soups' effect was waning on your conscience and gullet, and your brain was beginning to ask for more.
>They're little sentient horses, so they might just graze, so you would have to go look for fruit, or maybe they are simply vegetarian.
>But, since the illusion of sentience is on your mind, another trope of civilization comes to mind.
>Money.
>If this is a civilization, rather than a tribe, then there must be currency of some sort.
>Hopefully a bunch of tiny horses could make use of your mind and matter.
>You have another slight realization.
>If the person next to you hasn't run away or asked you to run away, then she searches to understand you.
>Like a mirror reflection of what you would do, if you found her leaning in your rear garden, staring at the stars.
>Maybe she could get you Breakfast?>You conclude, that this is at least worth a shot.
"I'm sorry, Twilight, that I have to ask this, but~"
>"Yeah, it's no problem if you get me some food- err, I mean, if I get you some food."
"Thank you, Twilight."
___
>You just sit around for a moment trying to forget the light discomfort in your gullet, staring at the sunrise that is now upgraded to just sun, you lay in the grass allowing Twilight to study the contours of your face and light 5 o'clock shadow, forgetting your uncomfort until it is unbearable enough that you decide to face it, like a room that you're too comfortable to clean.
>You slowly turn your head, you swear you heard creaking coming from deep in your neck.
>"I'd like to cash in on that breakfast now, if that's fine."
>"Ye-yeah! That's, that's fine, but I need one thing out of you… first."
>She's very nervous, you decide, based on the fact that that perfect circle of a voice formed right into a triangle.
"Yeah, what is it?"
>You squint a bit after noticing something.
>Her fur, you notice, turns a bit red, as if it was skin. You deduce that the awkward tone is connected to that.
>Also, you notice, that her eyes might have changed color, but that might've been the contrasting tones of her purple face.
>You can personally relate to the feeling, not only is someone asking her out to breakfast, but they're an entirely new being capable of who knows what, wearing what may or may not be very alien clothes.
>In all the sense, it feels like a Sci-Fi movie from the sixties, a wonderful one, at that.
___
>You get up, brushing the excess moss and dirt from the tree behind you off of your coat
>It is way to hot, you find, to be wearing a coat.
>She says something, but you don't remember what she asked, or what you answered. But, atleast you knew it was a question.
>maybe it's a relic of your numb external form, or a simple brain goof.

>You're from the state of Washington, where the winters are bitter cold and the summers are searing hot at times.
>Really, at this point, you're used to both extremes.
>You've been to a lot of places, as well, but this place is entirely alien, you've never seen a photograph or recollection or anything to do with this place.
>It's got you quite excited, too, like being the first man on Mars.
>Like that one book that the librarian that lived on second street gave you, about a man going to another world, and being left there.
>You don't remember much from that book, except it got a pretty great movie adaptation.
>But most definitely the sense of wonder and admiration of the book stayed with you.
>Actually, to be more precise, it was more like an adapted version of 20 Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by, you want to say, Jules Verne.
>Your mind is a little fuzzy, because your stomach has no way of making glucose.
>You're just mindlessly following Twilight, and- once again, you find yourself more absorbed in your own thoughts than the new frontier you just stumbled upon.
>You really need to get out of your mind more often.
>For you, it's like a NEET getting out of his government paid closet to 'reeee' the neighbors dog.
>For whatever reason, you just thought the picture of some shitposter 'reeeing' a dog only to run back inside hilarious.
>Once again, lost in your own mind.
>you thump your temple a bit with your index and middle finger, both to get that Beatles tune out of your head and get yourself to stop thinking so thickly.
___
>You lightly bump your head on the top of a door. And get brought back to reality.
>Or maybe it was the side, you question. you weren’t paying enough attention to see.
>"So this is ponyville bakery, it's official name is Sugarcube Corner, though- here is where we get all our tastiest breakfasts."
"This makes me think you have eggs, then- and a couple of other things you have to harvest from animals."
>"Yeah, Flutter Shy does a pretty good job of keeping the bakery stocked.
"For some reason I want to think that Fluttershy is the yellow one, the one with wings."
>You put your hand to your thigh, making it flatten out and announce its presence, as if you were pressing down on a table.
>"Yep! She's a Pegasus pony, they are like earth ponies, but they're lighter, for whatever reason, and have wings."
>She notices what's happening with your hand. Her head cocking to the side, reminding you of a little doe.
>a very cute doe.
>you imagine that these ponies, at some point were evolved to have a symbiotic relationship with another race, maybe dwarves or something, and then they died out and left their instinctually cute tendencies.
>"Is that a gesture for something?"
>she raises a large, bell shaped hoof towards your hand, in attempt at a gesture of her own.
>you wonder how anything can get done around here. Seeing as flanges aren't actually factual
>Oh, my-
>You notice, for the first time, something sticking out of her head.
>A horn.
"Oh my god you’re a unicorn."
>"Oh! Yeah, I'm a unicorn, if you don't know, that's the only way ponies can use magic."
>Yep, it's entirely plausible for magical tiny cute unicorns to be existent.
>in that moment, you decide one of two things.
>you're going to suspend your disbelief.
>if there is a higher power, they're obviously laughing their asses off right now.
___
>"Hey Pinkie, this is the guy, err."
>She turns to you to say something, but you are in your head again.
>She realizes that your studying the contours of her face, her shades and highlights, not unlike what twilight was doing a moment ago.
>The one over the counter twitches, but at the same time seems reserved.
>Her hair cascades in cloudlike formations off of her twitching head.
>The scent of bubblegum and syrup diffuse throughout the air, invading the nostrils.
>The scent is not sickly sweet, but is present.
>You came back with a tap on your thigh, you jeer downwards to see Twilight pushing her head into your thigh.
>She breaks her contact to look up.
>"Are you considered male of female?"
>You're taken aback, before realising that the question is quite valid, considering the circumstances.
"What?"
>Still, you couldn't have answered more human.
>"We just never know."
"I'm considered male back in my dimension."
>You see her lightly nod her head, as if she had won a bet.
>"Well, that's good to know, then."
>She turns to the one over the counter, who had somehow produced a large stick, and was pushing it around the table, you get the idea that this one is something else.
>"Pinkie, I would like a table, and two stacks of pancakes both with a sides of oatmeal, both of those oatmeal's how I like it, two bowls of fruit, two cups of orange juice, and a large set of French cut toast dippers, please ."
>That sounds lovely at this point in time, now only if they have either coffee or tea.
>she turns to you, obviously to take you to your table.
>she speaks, back to her normal tone.
>"And you'll be having?"
>you're surprised once again, taking a step back to stop you from falling over from utter confusion.
>geez, I guess you just made acquaintances with big smoke from grand theft auto.
___
>You turn towards the one behind the counter, whom had just got done saying 'okie dokie lokie'
>You get a good look at her, noticing the lightly ruffled fluff of her coat.
>The fur under her mouth is dry, and crispy, and lightly darker than her coat.

>"And you'll be having?"
"Give me a moment."

>Her teeth were lightly yellow, definitely noticeable enough to know that she doesn't brush that often.
>The building itself was, from what you could tell, a gingerbread house in all it's sweet glory.
>Maybe it wasn't, but this place gives you the notion that you're going to get so fat you can't go out the door.

"I'll have a stack of pancakes and a tall glass of orange juice, if that's okay."
>"Okie Dokie Lokie!"

>Like a McDonalds, back home.
>The interior was reminding you of the candy stores in Disneyland.
>there were green, wood polished floor boards with a more saturated green round rug in the middle.
>you poke at the thought of them using glue for this building, meaning that they might kill their own for their glue

>"Table or booth?"
"Table, please"

>You sit down in a couple of hand- engraved wood chairs, with really ornate depictions of candy-corn.
>What even goes into candy corn?
>'they definitely used wood glue for these chairs'
>you think to yourself, laughing lightly.
__
>You're looking at the table cloths, waiting on your dinner for eight come together.
>"So, anon- what can you tell me about where you come from?"
>You dash up, and look at her while squinting her eyes, power blinking and simply stating.
"How do you know my name."
>She looks a little confused and angry at the same time, trying to perceive the thought of 'what are you on' through her squinting snout.
>"you told me, that was the one thing I asked of you."
>You let out a long drawn out 'oooh' with an undertone of confused acceptance, as if you had been told that your entire house was abducted by aliens, and you really didn't want to ask questions.
"Well, okay; that's pretty fair."
>You sit in awkward silence for a bit.

"You wanna hear some music?"

>She blinks, pulling herself from her head, and looks back at you with the same look she flashed a minute ago.
>"We- we don't have a record player, and you obviously don't have any records."

>you've been waiting for her to say something, and you pull out your earbuds and ipod.
>she looks at it as a child would look at a lolipop.
>"Oh! You have a magic player! These things are really neat, may I see it?"
>you turn to the first album on your list, which happens to be 'Abbey Road.'

"Here, put this in your ears, like- like earplugs, if that's a thing."
>Putting it on shuffle, the song 'Octopuses Garden' comes on.
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-BdGchS0yk
>It's loud, and you can hear the sounds of the British Isles from here.
>Soon enough, she begins to bob her head, pushing a bit of air your direction.
>You smile, seeing that music taste is kind of universal.

>By the guitar solo, and the beginning of the second verse, magic starts manifesting lightly on her horn.
>You bob your head as well to the sound of the music, waiting still on your food.
___
>the song ends, and before it can change to another song on abbey road, you pause the ipod.
>Wrapping the earbuds up in the light blue, scratched ipod nano, you stuff it in your pocket.
>Pinkie comes out, holding a plate of food, setting a pod of plates on her table, she sets down your orange juice and twilights water.

"Thanks."
>"Thank you very much, pinkie."
>Twilight said that last line with a nod of her head, while closing her eyes.
>Very traditional of her, you feel.
>You're jolted by your waiter's voice.
>There's a lot happening here, like- like an ocean, full of life.
>It's- it's really indescribable in one way or another.
>But, you believe- that you'll find the Waldo in her voice, maybe after enough times eating here you'll-
"Fuck me, these pancakes are great like holy shit."

>You take a gulp of the orange juice while showing straight elation at these pancakes.
>You notice, that twilight just gobbled up a strawberry.
>You're above thinking right now, this food is absolutely awe inspiring.
___
>After your plates are clean enough to be served once again, without wash, twilight silently pays. And you note- that Twilight is not tipping your waitress.
>You get up, and follow twilight out of the door.
>The sky is bright, and you see a couple of flying ponies in the distance, taking note of their ability to move clouds.
>You're noting the ground, the firmness of the dried dirt, but yet- the fineness of the road.
>The town itself is bustling, with a train station adjourning a large round building.
>The place is very out of tune with conventional technological history.
>You see a camera in the distance, one with old, 1800s esque lenses, but- over there- you point, is a pony with a camera from a 1940s drama.
>Very strange, it seems, that the train in dock is steam powered, but yet- there are portable music players.
>But it also seems the music hasn't come along.
>And who is this pony? What is her job? Is she on an off day?
>This entire universe was made to confuse you, you just know it.
>Watch, knowing your luck, the literal god of chaos handmade this place.
___
>Does anyone else smell chocolate?
>breaking away from that thought, you see that twilight is leading you back to her tree.
>the tree is very cozy.
>There's a couple of leaves falling down to greet you as the creaking of the opening of the door assaults your ears.
>You step in, minding the size of the door.
>You go and sit down on one of the steps without Twilight's permission.
>It seems that twilight has disappeared.
>You listen carefully, and tune into your surroundings.
>The winds blowing, as the tree's leaves are rustling, creating a sound that's way to close to white noise.
>There's something in there, though, and you're ears have gone in search of it.
>There's, a scratching of sorts, you guess.
>you also hear a light humming, maybe animal in nature?
>And a tapping on the carved floor.
>fascinating what your ears can perceive, isn't it.
>"Oh, hey! You're the new pony in town!"
>Brad?
>You jump out of your skin to see a small walking lizard.
>Okay, be cool wi-
"HOLY SHIT IT’S A FURRY!"
>You point a youthful, but bony hand at the dragon.
>He cowers.
>"OH GOD DON'T SMITE ME!"
>You laugh a bit.
___________
>Not a furry, a scalie.
>Fuck the internet and all their fandoms.
>"Hey why are you pointing your middle claw to the sky like that?"
>You don't answer, you'd have a particularly hard time explaining why you'd want to have intercourse with the ceiling.
>"Anything I can get you, anon, I've got some tea brewing if… if you know what that is."
"Yeah, thanks little one- that'll be fine."
>He turns and you listen in on the little pitter patter of his feet as he runs to get you some tea.
>What a great dragon.
>Still fuckin' disgusted by scalies though.
>Why.
>Why are you disgusted by scalies.
>'Well, it's their tendencies in the bed.'
>But their tendencies in the bed are the same as normal people. They just like their art, mostly.
>'But the art itself isn't good either.'
>That's not truthful, and you can't make generalizations about them.
>'A person is a person, I guess.'
>That, that right there is the thought pattern that'll get you up in life!
>'I really need to be a bit more considerate.'
>And where the hell is Twilight?
>"Right here anon!"
"Oh, did I say that last part out loud?"
>"No, I'm just here to bring you your tea."
"Oh, thanks little dragon. Very considerate of you."

will continue when the thread gets slow.