Alternate Realities 004

[Alternate Realities Journal Entry 004]

[Shift 22 – Date unknown (I really need a watch)]

[While still decidedly random in length, the shifts are definitely getting longer. When I first started this absurd journey they were merely a few hours each; now, I find myself in each reality for about a week. Though this is a worrying trend if I ever intend to return to my home dimension, I find at the very least the extended time allows me to get more accustomed to the specifics of each realm, ludicrous as they may be.]

[Though another worrying trend is how increasingly far the realities seem to deviate from (what I consider) normal; that is, my home reality.]

===

>It was another quiet, peaceful day in Ponyville. You had just stepped out to the market to get supplies for lunch; strawberries, grapes, oranges, apples, and pretty much any other fruit you could find. You were going to make Twilight one motherfucker of a fruit salad, celebrating one full week in this particular realm.

>With your new life the way it was, milestones like this were not entirely |rare|, but they hardly beget celebration of any sort. Like the reality you were in a couple shifts back where all the ponies were instead angry honey badgers that constantly tried to get into your pants. And that's not a euphemism; they literally jumped into your pants and started clawing the everloving shit out of you for reasons you never fully understood. You're not sure the scars will ever fully heal, be they mental or physical in nature.

>Returning to the tree library, you give a short rap on the door before entering.

“Hey Twilight, I'm back.”

>A short nicker from inside confirms her presence. Opening the door, you find the purple mare standing over an open book on the table, as was normal. A few scattered pieces of parchment and the usual 3 inkwells and 3 quills surrounded it. Entering the room proper, you set your grocery bag on the table. Twilight curiously peers inside, but you push her away.

“Now now, not yet. I gotta slap all this stuff into a bowl before you can call it a fruit salad.”

>She snorts in reply.

“Shouldn't be but a minute, hold yer you.”

>You chuckle inwardly at the clever play on a common phrase, and scratch her behind the ear. She nuzzles against your hand gently.

“Hey, until then, you can have this.”

>You reach into the brown paper shopping bag, rooting around. You soon find your prize, and draw forth a single sugarcube. Twilight's eyes take notice as you bring the geometric treat under her nose, which she laps up greedily. Smiling, you wipe your hand off on your pants and head into the kitchen to prepare.

>To say the least, it was a bit hard to get used to a universe where all your friends and acquaintances were full-sized, realistic horses, like from before you even came to Equestria. You spent the first day or so rather perplexed at the normalcy of everything else; the town and all it's homes were the same as always, though maybe a bit bigger to account for the size difference. It was a mystery how everything seemed to run as if the realponies were as intelligent as they always were, even when for the most part they did nothing but wander around aimlessly and eat grass. It wasn't until you caught Applejack's apple cart suddenly restock itself by an unseen hand that things started making sense.

>Not much sense, but a little.

>Putting the finishing touches on the salad, you take the bowl back into the library foyer, where your stoic purple housemate waits patiently.

“Okay starbutt, here ya go.”

>Twilight wastes no time digging in as you place the bowl on the table in front of her. Her full attention taken by this task, you glance over at the writing utensils near the open book, still on the same page as when you came in.

“You finish your letter to the Princess yet?”

>Twilight's ferocious gobbling jostles the bowl to the side, in turn knocking one of the inkwells over onto a sheet of parchment. The inky stain fades momentarily, leaving a fully written letter in it's place on the aged paper. You pick it up and inspect it, reading the letter aloud to yourself.

“Alright, let's see what we got here.”

'Dear Princess Celestia,

Neigh whinny snort huff, snort whinny nicker nacker. Huff whicker whinny snort. Snort huff whinny? Whinny huff snort! Snort snort.

Your Faithful Student, Twilight Sparkle.'

>You stare at the equestrian creation in your hands for a moment.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

>You roll up the letter, stamp a wax seal with Twilight's mark onto it, and toss the in-depth lesson about horse-ship towards Spike.

“Ready to go, buddy.”

>The coiled letter bounces off of the apathetic purple and green iguana's head. He eventually makes a low grunt and hisses at it, flicking his tongue towards it. The letter bursts into green flames and sails out the open window. You still weren't sure how that worked. Eh, magic, whatever.

>A familiar sound nips at the edges of your hearing, one you'd been dreading the inevitability of.

“Ah, damnit.”

>You embrace your nonchalant friend one last time as the sound slowly intensifies.

“Gonna miss you, Sparklehorse.”

>A forlorn whinny is all you can hear before the blasting sound in your head sends you on your way.

---------

>The blast repeats itself several times over. Your eyes open upon a spectacular display of aerial explosions. A fireworks display? Was this realm in the midst of a celebration? But then why were they all so devoid of color? To be honest, they looked more like–

>An artillery shell explodes almost on top of you, shocking the sound out of your ears. The ringing that replaces it seems unfamiliar, at least in comparison to what usually robbed you of that sense. Your path through the sky takes a sharp nosedive, and you grab hold of the ethereal menagerie of pastel colors in front of you to keep from falling off. ...Wait, hold on.

>Words force their way into your deafened ears. “....ymous, are you alr.... ...must be closer than I thought! Anonymous?!”

>Celestia turns back to see your lost expression as she weaves through the sea of lights. Even in your haze of confusion, the stylized helmet she wore with a purple gemstone affixed just above the horn caught your attention, helping you to regain your bearings somewhat. You shake your head trying to throw your shattered mind back into the proper configuration.

>“Snap out of it back there, we've got problems at five and seven!”

>Looking back from your royal mount, you find two packs of changeling fliers pursuing, and closing in fast. You almost had a chance to panic, before becoming aware of what appeared to be some kind of crazy looking shotgun clutched in your other hand. If there was ever a time to roll with it, it was now. Leveling the sights on the nearer pack, you give the ornate trigger a squeeze.

>A brilliant cone of golden energy screams out of the barrel, engulfing the entire pack of chitinous creatures in a holy flame. You'd be marveling at the sight, had the recoil from the blast not flung the weapon backwards directly into your face. The pain served as a solid reminder that you've never fired a gun before, in any universe. Not a real one, anyway, and certainly not some kind of absurd magical blunderbuss.

>The other squad takes note of their fallen comrades and quickly veer off track, falling back into pursuit at a much greater distance. They start spitting some kind of green goop at you; one glob striking and adhering to your arm, and another to Celestia's flank. She starts taking more evasive maneuvers while calling out to you.

>“Blasted spitters! Take them out before we're too heavy to fly!”

“I don't think this thing has that kind of range!”

>You sense a bit of frustration and confusion in her reply. “Then switch it to long-slug mode!”

>You look down at the side of the weapon. Sure enough, a small lever switch is built into the side opposite the shell ejection port. It was set in the down position, next to a golden triangle symbol. You flick it upwards to a line or bar of some sort. Realigning the mystical firearm on the attacking swarm, you brace yourself much more sturdily, and pull the trigger.

>Nothing happens. Was it out of ammo? It was a shitty single-shot, wasn't it? Stupid magic horses, if they can make a damn magic shotgun you'd think they'd be able to make one that you don't have to reload after every hey what's that noise? Sounds like something charging up to–

>A continuous beam of golden plasma no bigger than the gunbarrel suddenly bursts forth, cutting a surgical line through the wings of one of the pursuing changelings. It falls into a downwards tailspin to it's doom, while it's comrades break off in every direction. Taking a second to understand the weapon's bizarre mechanics, you follow each one with the nonstop beam of death, cleaving most of them into bite-sized chunks. The beam finally fizzles out after about a minute, but it was more than sufficient.

“Okay, I love this gun.”

>“The Minotaurs make fine weapons indeed, I'd imagine that's why you commissioned it from them.”

>That would explain why the trigger guard is almost comically oversized in comparison to your slender fingers. You wonder if the golden inlaid trim was the standard, or part of the original weapon order. Either way, it was a damn fine gun. You almost felt bad about stealing it, because there was no way in hell you were leaving this dimension without this particular armament tightly in hand.

>But you had time to lament your alternate self's loss of his favorite weapon later. Right now, there was a very pissed off looking changeling hissing in your face. Apparently he had snuck off from the pack and come up from below while you were lost in admiration. The changeling wastes no time and lunges at you.

“Shit!”

>The side of the gun quickly intercepts the incoming jaws before they can snap your face off. You struggle to hold the deceptively strong creature at bay. Your hallowed ride seems startled by the sudden extra weight, but holds steady.

>“Everything alright back there?”

“Yeap! Got it under control! Just... just gimme a second!”

A sidewards glance back at Celestia gives you an idea.

“Sorry about this Celly!”

>“Sorry about wha– eagh!”

>Plating a foot firmly on the changeling's underside, you kick it upwards and pull it back over your head, right onto the startled alicorn's impressive horn. Her flight path starts to waver, since it's probably hard to fly straight with a thrashing overgrown bug stapled to your forehead. She continues to hold it together though, which makes you wonder if this isn't the first time something like this had happened.

>With one final pained gasp, the changeling succumbs to the minor issue of there being a giant spike sticking out of it's chest. Using the trusty foot that helped get it there, you kick the limp creature off, sending it tumbling to the earth below. An irritated and somewhat sticky Celestia looks back at you, the aquamarine lifeblood dripping off her helmet.

>“I wish you'd warn me before doing something like that.”

>You can only give a vaguely apologetic smirk and shrug in response.

---

>“An entire other universe... amazing.”

“Trust me, there's more than just one.”

>You had finished filling in the warrior princess on your situation, figuring being straight with her might improve your chances of survival in this war-torn reality. You sat on the steps before the throne of the disheveled castle, the pale moonlight pouring in through the shattered windows serving as the only source of light. Celestia kept her gaze fixed on the moon above, watching it intently through one of the many broken windows, as if waiting for it to tell her something.

“So, where's Twilight and all the others? Surely they wouldn't miss out on protecting the nation.”

>The solar noble looks at you, face nonplussed.

“...Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity? All the wielders of the Elements of Harmony?”

>Her expression softens as she returns to contemplating the lunar surface.

>“I'm afraid those names are unfamiliar to me. I've been the sole wielder of the Elements for well over a thousand years.”

>You probably should have recognized the familiarly colored gemstones set into each piece of her regal armor. All your friends weren't just dead, they never even existed in the first place. Bit of a downer, you think.

“I sincerely hope this war hasn't been going on all that time.”

>She almost laughs. “Thankfully, no. This accursed battle has only gone on for a comparatively scant 10 years. But it feels like it's been so much longer. Every day seems to take more effort to continue than an entire year of peaceful times. Even with my lifespan, I fear I may not see the end of it.”

>Man, this universe was heavy. Though you felt kind of bad, you were glad you'd only be here a week at most. Celestia again turns to the moon hanging in the nigh sky beyond the window.

>“I do hope my sister is alright...”

>You hadn't even thought about what might have become of ruler of the other side of the heavenly coin. With no Twilight, or any of the six element bearers, she may have very well still been imprisoned on the moon. If that even happened in the first place. You looked at the weary matriarch, mustering up empathy for her plight from your heart, jaded by months of nonstop insanity. For once, you wished you could help somehow... hey.

>Standing up, you make your way over to her side, draping an arm around her burdened shoulder. She meets your playful smile with a look of confusion.

“Of all the ponies and creatures I've run into in this wild ride I call a life, none of them have come anywhere close to needing a drink as much as you do.”

---

>To be honest, you didn't think you could drain an entire bottle of apple brandy in an hour. Nor did you think the normally reserved Princess of the sun could keep up with your pace. The bottle dangles loosely from your grip as the two of you sit on the steps and swap stories. You usually weren't one to brag, but yours were better.

“So we finally got away from the big fuckin' bear made a damn stars n' shit by ducking into a cave it couldn't fit it's fat ass in. We're all tryin' to collect ourselves, tensions high, and fuckin' Pinkie just goes 'Wow guys, we just |bearly| made it!'”

>Celestia groans and exaggeratedly rolls her eyes, unable to help from chuckling at the terribleness of the pun.

 “Wanted to smack her upside the head so damn much. Hell, I probably did.” You try to take another swig, only to come up dry. You toss the empty bottle off behind you with the others.“Shit...”

>“Oh, me... and you said this was... this was the world where they were |all| bears, correct?”

>You had started rummaging around in the small enchanted pouch hanging from your belt, searching for another bottle. “Yeah! Errpony was bears! I mean, not big damn bears made outta |space| 'n' crap, but they were still big friggin' grizzly bears. ...Aha!” Your prize obtained, you start fiddling with the infernal seal that kept you away from the sweet nectar of further drunkenness. “Oh lawd, if you thought horse puns were bad, bear puns are worse. They don't really have as varied a terminology as equestrians..ism, so they just jam the word 'bear' into fuckin' everything. Bearville, Bearhatten, Bearalot, Bearalittle, fuckin Bearpocalypse over there.”

>At long last, the mildly fruity liquor caresses your throat, while your newfound drinking buddy falls into another bout of giggling at your colorful description of Bearquestria's naming conventions. You  give a prolonged sigh of relief after finishing your gulp and passing the bottle.

>“Ahhh... but at least Pinkie usually jus' makes terrible jokes or casually breaks the laws of reality. Twilight's the one that's always gettin' me into all manner of ridiculous shenanigans. One time, she cast a spell on me that made me think I was lord of the Griffin Kingdom. By the time she pieced together the counter spell, they had to stop me from leapin' off a cliff with a pitchfork in my hand and a chicken taped to my head.” The princess laughs again, to which you take mock offense. “Hey, it's not my fault that tree on the other side of the ravine looked like a hydra attacking mah kingdom! ...My kingdom bein' a small collection a rocks at i's base, a course.”

>“Oh goodness... what reality did that one happen in?” the princess queries, her magical grip drifting the bottle back your way.

“That... would be the one I call home.” You take another swig. “So is it any real surprise that I ended up zippin' around the multiverse like I am? Nah, I'd say something like this was inevitable. 'Least 's long as none of that crazy pinch'a'purple's spells din't just up an' kill me. ...Shit, I hope she don't think she |did| kill me.”

>Your sudden solemn demeanor carries over to your one-pony audience, a silence overtaking the previously rambunctious hall. Before it can drag on too long, you deftly strike it down.

“Aaah, she'll get over it.”

>The princess laughs once more, surprising you a little that her sense of humor might be as dark as yours. War does strange things to people and ponies alike, it seems. There's a further hint of surprise when the inebriated sun goddess rests her head on your shoulder. You're far too drunk to really think it strange, but you give her a look of mild puzzlement all the same.

>“Now I remember why I chose you as my prince; every version of you knows how to keep me in good spirits.”

>The words have a hard fight through the haze clouding your mind, but eventually prove victorious.

“Shit, we're married here?” She nods, eyes wide with the realization that this information might be strange to you. You eventually grin and throw an arm around her. “Well alright then, I can live with that.”

>The calm of the room is broken, as the ornate doors at the end of the hall glow blue and hurl themselves open. Through the portal steps a familiar midnight-coated alicorn, herself decked out in deep ultramarine armor, similar in design to that which protected your sudden life-mate.

>“Sister, I was told I could find you here. I return from the reconnaissance mission. Our team has found that– oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

>She sounded unusual, at least from her usual normal of being unusual. Didn't call herself “we” or anything. Still, you could not suppress your elation to her presence, even if your current state made remembering her name difficult.

“Princess Laura! Man I was afraid you was still stuck on the moon!”

>“No, I'm... wait, why would I... what?”

>Celestia mirrors your excitement, but is able to keep things on track. Though the part of her mind that kept her speech proper seems to have finally given up it's struggle against the unstoppable army of alchohol rampaging through her system. “Hey sis! Glad you ain't dead or nothin'. So what'choo find out, girl?”

>“Um,” Luna stumbles, “...yes, the mission, of course. We've discovered what may be a critical weakness in the changeling's defense network. I think we may be able to– by the stars, you two smell like a brewery!”

>The less tipsy celestial sister had finally walked close enough to get a good whiff of the apple-scented miasma of drunk permeating the local airspace. She seemed miffed by this revelation. You offered a solution by thrusting the half-empty bottle towards her. She eyes it curiously, unsure of it's origins.

>“'Sweet Apple Acres Reserve'? Where did you even get this?”

>“He brought it wif 'im, from anather dimension!”

>Luna looks at her sister like she just claimed the sun and moon moved under their own power. After a moment, she continues her inquiry.

>“Tia, how many have you had?”

>“Just two.”

>“Two glasses?”

>“Two bottles.”

“Yeah,” >you interject, “my girl here ain't no lightweight, thas for sure! Up top.”

>You raise your hand, palm outwards. Celestia raises her hoof to meet it. Both of you miss one another by about four inches.

>Luna rubs at the parts of her forehead not blocked by a horn. “I don't believe this...”

“Hey, this party ain't over yet if you wanna join in.” You aim the open end of the bottle at her expectantly. It takes all of your remaining focus and energy to keep a grip on the container of precious spirits when she smacks it away angrily.

>“This is hardly the time for that! We may have finally found a weakness that could very well end this damnable war, and I come home to find my sister and her husband three sheets to the wind!”

>Celestia starts to explain herself, but you cut her off and come to her defense.

“Hey, listen here Princess Larry; yer sister looked like she was about to hurl herself off a cliff when I got here.” You pause for a moment, an errant thought about your use of expression slowly rising to the surface. “...You know, an'... not tryin' to fly, or anything. Now I know I ain't been here very long, but ten gatdang years is a long time to go without so much as a drink to keep a perso- ...pon- ...whatever you call it, sane.”

>The Night Princess seems to mull over your slurred but wise words for a moment, and eventually her anger seems to recede somewhat when she glances at her sister.

>“...Very well. I can understand the need to unwind tension once in a while. But the fact of the matter is we need competent leadership now more than ever. And what I find before me now is hardly that.”

>You start to respond, but this time Celestia cuts you off instead.

>“Sis's gotta point, you know. Alright, what's the sitcheation?”

>“...Right. During our recon mission, we found what seems to be our best chance at taking out the leader of the changeling empire, Queen Chrysalis. Once a month nearly all of their forces leave the hive in order to strike the nearby townships, presumably to feed and restock supplies. This leaves only the Queen and a small number of elite guards at the base. Now currently this window is open, but by next month we should be able to pull together a team of–”

“Great! Le's go!”

>The Lunar half of the diarchy fumbles her words at your sudden outburst. “Go... what? No, the two of you are in no state to–”

>“Yeah, I'm feelin' it! Le's do dis!” proclaims Celestia, cutting off her younger sibling.

>Luna desperately tries to stop the inevitable catastrophe. “Sister, please! We've no plans or–”

>You bolt upright with almost unnatural speed for someone as tanked as you currently were, pointing forwards with intense determination. “Time to kick some bugpone butt!” You lift one leg up, and with spectacular grace and poise, manage to land perfectly on every step.

>With your face.

---

>Thankfully it was apparently easier to stand on four legs than two, as the equally hammered Princess managed to make it outside the castle with you draped over her back. Luna followed, throwing all the logic and reason she could at the two of you, though it was ultimately in vain. You reorient yourself to be aimed forwards for the ride, though you were still laying down. With the droning pleas of the Night Princess sufficiently ignored, you posed a sudden important question.

“Uh, shit. Cel, you shore you alright to fly?”

>“Aaaah, I'm fine. Don' worry, I got dis... I got dis.”

>Like the fabled majestic Brick Swan, the two of you take off, tracing a jagged path through the night sky.

---

>Celestia had almost crashed only 4 times, which is a lot better than you would have figured. You had both just finished your in-flight drink of the entire rest of the remaining bottle of booze, when something occurred to you.

“Hay Prinsmus, we there yet?”

>“How shuld ai know? I don't know whare we're going.”

>A problem, that. You leaned your head over the side of the weaving alicorn, scanning the area below. Eventually, you spot some kind of huge castle-looking thing, much of it and the surrounding area coated with that strange green goo stuff.

“Well, what about that shit?”

>“Hunh, never notishd that before... wealp! I ken only thinka one thing to do now.”

>It was a strange feeling, having gravity suddenly just stop. More so when you weren't entirely sure what direction it normally pulled in. The gloomy structure grew larger at an astonishing rate, fast enough to allow a hint of worry to pierce your drunken stupor. The magical equine comet you were unfortunately hanging on to, however, was currently ignorant to any modicum of fear, and shouted an only slightly slurred war cry at the now very dangerously close fortress.

>“LET'S FLYYYYY TO THE CASLE!”

>The impact was legendary; the large stained-glass window of the main chamber totally obliterated from the force. This was impressive, because the two of you had actually smashed straight through the solid stone wall on the opposite end of the room. For a magical marshmallow pony princess, Sunbutt was amazingly sturdy. Probably like an ungulate manticore in the sack, too. Any doubts about the reasoning behind your alternate self's choice in life-partners were as shattered as the startled changeling queen's perception of safety, not to mention her confidence in changeling masonry. She voices her concerns about your intrusion.

>“What–”

>This was all she was able to spit out in the small window of time before a second impact rocked the foundations, as your empyreal ride/wife struck the hall's floor, her horn stuck fast and body rigid like a winged javelin. The force somehow propels you up into the thankfully spacious room's airspace. You become an alcoholic acrobat, performing three full flips before landing upright, your runic weapon aimed true at the imposing queen.

“Qween Chrysmalism! Your rain of tarror on this fine nashn are attan end!”

>“What in the world are you doing?”

>The voice of the amorous vampire queen somehow comes from beneath you. Was she using magic to twist your perceptions of the world? Or were you actually laying flat on your back aiming your shotgun at a chandelier?

>“And why are you threatening my light fixtures?”

>Alright, so it was the latter. But it mattered not; you and your horse-wife were here to wreck some changeling face. You turned your head back to ground zero.

“Hey Selly, you aurite?”

>Her body takes that cue to go completely limp. Chrysalis offers her strangely nonchalant input.

>“I think your wife's dead.”

>Clearly Celestia now operated on voice commands, with that comment prompting her to slam her front hooves onto the floor, soon freeing herself from the stonework. She laughs drunkenly, either made of something much stronger than you had first thought, or just too blitzed to even know what the concept of pain was anymore.

>“Whoo! Mare I ain't dun that in ages!”

>These developments were making you begin to doubt that you were the initial individual to bring out this side of the solar soverign. Also that being drunk made your thoughts a lot more alliterative. You called out to her.

“Hay... c'mere an halp me up... I forgot what legs do...”

>The bemused changeling leader watched and waited calmly as you were assisted to your feet by her wobbly adversary. Using her comparatively steady frame as support, you go about remembering why you were here and what you were doing.

“Now where were we... nyeah yes!” You raise your weapon once more, this time aiming it at your actual target, and not any hanging lights that did admittedly fantastic changeling impressions. “Queen Christmas! You... you... are really, really chill bout all dis. Sup  widdat?”

>Chrsyalis does not break her casual smile, resting her head on a hoof. “Oh, I'm just enjoying the moment, is all. A hilarious situation, where both figureheads of the forces standing between me and my rule over the nation thought it prudent to attack my main fortress, alone, and apparently utterly wasted beyond all rational thought. Here I was, trying to think of the best way to eliminate the two of you, perhaps with one of my many spies or moles scattered throughout your populace, or possibly just a good old straightforward attack with |all| of my forces, instead of the miniscule fraction I send to knock you about every so often. And you two just quite literally blow down the walls to offer yourselves up to me. Why, if I'd have known it was this easy, I'd have sent care packages of some fine Changdonnay myself.”

>That was an awful lot of words for your fuzzy brain to take in. It takes a minute to sort out, but you eventually give a well-formulated reply.

“Oh. Well... huh... you gotta point there...” Your mind races lethargically to come up with a counter-plan. “But you farget! We aoutnomber you, two tah one!”

>Celestia nods exaggeratedly under the arm you had slung around her neck. Chrysalis gestures with her aerated hoof to the area behind you.

>“The thirty Elite Guards behind you beg to differ.”

>Slowly, the two of you turn to inspect the area in question. Sure enough, a squadron of stoic changeling guards thirty strong wait patiently at the normal entrance to the chamber, armor gleaming in the dim green candlelight and a murderous glint in their solid cerulean eyes. Taking a moment to make sure they weren't just angry hallucinations, you turn to your supportive spouse.

“Hao did we miss that?”

>“Huiunuh.”

“Weal, crud. ...Hay wait. I still have my ultimate tramp caurd!” For a third time, you aim your weapon. “A big friggin gun! Heheh, not so tuff now, huh fa- hey!”

>The decorative firearm is quite unceremoniously yanked from your insufficient grasp by the green aura enveloping it. Chrysalis' expression turns a hint more malicious as your former comrade turns itself on you in midair.

>“And now,” she gloats, “I have your ultimate trump card.”

“...Sssshooot.”

>“I intend to.”

>So this was it, huh? Truth be told, you figured you'd meet your end in a far sillier fashion than simply getting shot by your own gun, poignant as it may be. Like, something involving giant bee-ponies, trying to fill you with their love-venom. The golden hammer cocks back.

>“Goodbye.”

>A shrill sound rings out next to your ear.

>“Waaaaait!”

>The gun droops slightly as your executioner cocks an eyebrow at Celestia's sudden outburst. You watch her with baited breath, wondering what astonishing revelation she could have come to at this crucial moment.

>“...You were ganna send us |booze|?”

>The light, cocky smile drains from the chitinous empress' face. Her voice lacks any emotion, save for the tiniest hint of exasperated venom.

>“No.”

>Ka-click.

>...

> Ka-click  Ka-click  Ka-click.

>The confused regent lifts the weapon up higher, shaking it a bit.

>“...Is this thing even loaded?”

>You slap your free hand to your forehead. “Sssshiiiiit... I knew I forgot somethin'...”

>The empty cannon bounces to the floor before you, Chrysalis now clearly beyond fooling around.

>“I tire of this nonsense. Guards! Finish these idiots off.”

>The many guards spread out and surround your one-man-one-pony army, leering at you with malevolent intent. Celestia suddenly pulls away, leaving you flailing your arms to retain balance. Surprisingly, you manage, as she stares down one-half of the opposition.

>“Cahman then, ifn ya think yer hard enuff! Aiv taken on scurrier lookin dust-bunnies under muh be-BUEARRRRP!”

>An impressive belch to which even the beer-bongingest frat boys would bow before in respect erupts from the royal throat, carrying with it a wide ray of blinding golden energy, not unlike those fired from your spent shotgun. A startled sweeping motion sends it cascading over nearly half of the surrounding forces, burning them to cinders in seconds. You, Chrysalis, and many of the remaining changeling guards stare dumbfounded as she somewhat shyly covers her mouth.

>“Urp... 's'cuse me...”

“Uh, Cel,” you inquire, “did you eat that bag of shells I brung along?”

>“Izzat what those were? Ai thought they was just rally stale cheez poofs.”

>The bewildered queen finally shakes off her astonishment, unbridled rage taking over her every feature. “Stop gawking and attack before something even |stupider| happens!”

>At once, you spring into action. Action in this case translating to you falling down again, two airborne guards comically crashing into one another in the space you previously occupied. With a completely intentional spin, you fall flat on your ass right under the fast-dissolving image of royal sophistication you were bound to by the threads of matrimony. She looks over towards the sound of chitin striking chitin while you struggle to get up. Your head buries itself in her gut, prompting another deadly emission to be fired from her wordcannon and obliterate the stunned heap of bugpone.

>You watch them burn away, vision slightly impaired by the alabaster fur caressing your head. The clattering of several guards closing in from behind garners your attention. With much duress, your addled mind pieces together an idea involving the gastrointestinal weapon above.

>“Ahnon, wat'choo doin down ther- whoop!”

>Driving your fist into what you believe to be the secondary trigger down south elicits a spectacular blast of hellfire from the rear artillery. The advancing guards only had a second to contemplate their markedly more gruesome fate before settling into a new layer of dust on the old stone floor. Your alarmingly multipurpose pony bride starts giggling uncontrollably as you use her to again bring yourself to your feet. Having your arms wrapped around her midsection as they were gave you another plan of attack in your exponential train of brilliance. You start to twist and massage her body, as if rearranging something deep within.

“Araite, if I'm haff as drunk as I think I am, this should work parfectly!”

>“Whut does hao dronk you aer half tah do wit it?”

“Nnnnhhuuuuhhhh...”

>With you suddenly preoccupied by this mental struggle, the remaining dozen or so guards rearrange into another surrounding formation; this time making sure to stay clear of both business ends of the gun you married. Well aware that hesitation meant certain, gaseous death, they all quickly started advancing.

“Noo time ta explan!” You give a hearty squeeze, and use all your remaining drunk-strength to begin spinning Celestia in a circle. And then, for the first time in several hours, the most lucid thought kicks it's way into your mind. You shout the most intelligible words in several hours, christening your plan with a title of power.

“Powerful Princess Pirouette! Waifu Whirlwind!”

>Celestia seems to instinctively lift all but one back leg, as her mouth opens and unleashes a sustained beam of energy, shearing huge chunks out of the walls and eviscerating the unfortunate guards that were all too slow to get out of the way. Falling backwards to the ground, you watch the spectacular light show, the edge of your consciousness picking up some very embittered shouting from somewhere in the room.

>“This cannot be happening!! There is no |way| this is really happening!!!”

>Soon, the beam of destructive golden force once more peters out, it's unusual source promptly collapsing to the floor and skidding to a halt. You almost had a second to worry, before the dizzied bioweapon once again started cackling drunkenly. Sitting up, you survey the impressive damage. There was a nearly solid line cut through the walls, only a few thin pillars somehow sustaining the weight of the building.  Much of the floor was coated in charred ashes and meaty bug chunks. An incredulous queen hovered above a bisected throne. And lastly, a lone, extremely confused and frightened guard was laying on the floor in the corner, covering his head with his forelegs.

“Damn, gurl, you got some strong pipes on ya.”

>Celestia managed to calm down from her giddy stupor for a moment. “Yew should see mah sister, hahahah!”

>The surviving guard finally looks up to his queen. She gestures with her head towards your ruinous duo. He looks over to you, eyes still wide with shock.

>But before anyone can really react, a loud crack echoes through the room, the last vestiges of structural stability now leaving the building. In a single, solid piece, the walls and ceiling shift downwards, and eventually tilt over, before falling completely free from your view. The four of you walk/stumble to the edge, watching it plummet down the side of the high cliff that side of the castle was perched on. It strikes the distant ground with a faint, resonating whud.

>With that, the changeling guard stands up on his hind legs, crossing the other two across his chest before swinging them out to the sides.

>“I'm out.”

>He drops back into a quadrupedal gait and casually saunters to the remaining lower half of the main door, leaving it open as he exits the exposed foundation that was the only indication that any sort of building was ever here.

>“Huh, whass his prablem?” slurs Celestia.

>With a deranged cry of rage, Chrysalis leaps clear over your head, tackling the plastered princess to the floor.

>“I'll kill you!”

>Clearly, the queen's vehement state had robbed her of her wit, it now merely another casualty of this absurd war. Her eyes are almost ablaze with fury, most of which seems to be lost on her quarry pinned beneath her. Celestia raises a hoof and gently caresses the infuriated monarch's cheek

>“Yaknow, I never notissed how cute you wher...  yew wanna feel the pawer uh tha sun?”

>In an all-too-common practice, the muddled actions of the ivory inebraite drive much of the emotion from Chrysalis' face, who now simply gave her a look of apathetic exasperation.

>“I'm going to enjoy stomping you into putty.”

>Celestia only goes into another bout of uncontrolled laughter as the perforated forelegs raise up above her in preparation.

>WHONG

>Chrysalis' head vibrates not unlike a bell as the enameled wooden grip of your shotgun crashes into it. She remains upright for a bit, motionless, before falling over into an inert pile next to the still giggling princess. You pull back your impromptu bludgeon, looking at it like you'd never seen it before.

“Huh... probly shoulda thoughta that sooner. ...You alriht?”

>After calming down a bit, Celestia looks up to you with a vague hint of dejection in her eyes.

>“Aaawww... thought I wuz getting somwher with 'er.”

>You hurl your trusted weapon off to the side. “Mebeh I kin halp with that.”

>Giving your wobbly legs the rest of the night off, you fall somewhat roughly on top of the recumbent royal, embracing her in a passionate, albeit sloppy, kiss.

---

>Light assaults your eyelids with the intensity of an exploding star. Gripping in futility at the throbbing pain crashing around inside your head, you groggily rise out of the immaculate white sheets sheltering you from the cold air beyond their confines. Half-formed memories buzzed about your head, swimming through the ever-present pain. Forcing one eye open, you begin to examine the strange new environment you found yourself in.

>It looked to be a part of the castle, though much less ruined than the original chamber you were in the night before. It may have been another part of the palace, or an entirely different one. You never thought to ask. A familiar voice mumbling softly soon catches your attention before you can give it any more thought.

>“Rgh... just... get up there... come on... stupid sun...”

>Sitting on her haunches on a balcony leading off from the room was Celestia, holding up one hoof and hazily muttering at the sky. Pulling the sheet with you, you walk over to join her, and watch the unsteady sunrise. The celestial object kept stopping, lowering a bit, then jerking forwards quickly on it's ascent, before eventually settling into a reasonable pace high overhead. With a sigh, its wrangler lays her head on the ivory balcony's marbled guardrail.

>“Guh... finally.”

“Mornin'.”

>“It's like... two in the afternoon.”

“Oh...”

>“...Wish I could make this stupid thing dimmer... head hurts so much...”

“Tell me about it... let's just head back in, I guess.”

>Groaning to a standing position, she follows you back into the royal bedroom. She walks straight towards the bed, pushing herself into it sideways and laying down. You proceed to the other side and sit on the edge, next to her head.

“So... about last night...”

>“Before you ask, I don't really remember much.”

“Well, neither do I, but I was mostly wondering how we got back to... here.”

>“You can thank the extraction team and I for that.”

>You follow the new voice to it's origin, that of Princess Luna, standing in the bedroom's open doorway. She enters, closing the doors behind her before continuing.

>“We found the two of you passed out mid-coitus on top of the unconscious changeling queen, in the middle of an utterly decimated fortress. After cleaning the three of you up, we took the queen into custody and hauled you both back to Canterlot.”

>A glance to your hungover mate shows the bright blush encroaching on all corners of Celestia's face. She obviously didn't think having a drunk-fuck atop a decade-long enemy was quite as awesome as you did. You did your best to hide your delight at the revelation. Luna turns to you.

>“Though your methods may be strange, you have both dealt a crushing blow to the Changeling Empire. Without Chrysalis, it should be no trouble at all to clear out the remaining fractured forces. You may have finally rung this terrible war's death knell, and for that, I thank you.”

“Don't thank me, Princess Luna.” You raise a fist to your chest and look wistfully at the upper corner of the room. “Thank booze.”

>Celestia plants a hoof on her reddened face. Luna chuckles.

>“Of course.” She turns and starts towards the exit. “Rest well, you two. Though the climax has been reached, there still may be battles ahead of us.” The door opens, but she stops. “Oh, Anonymous.”

“Hm?”

>“You made the return trip to Canterlot upon my back. At one point you woke up briefly and told me you'd like to 'see how deep the craters of the moon go'.”

>This time it was your turn to turn red. “Uh... yeah. Sorry about tha–”

>“If this offer still stands, you may find me in my chambers. Bring your weapon.”

>The door drifts shut. You sit on the edge of the bed, slightly slackjawed. Celestia holds a similar expression when you turn to her.

“You know, your reality is a lot cooler than I had originally figured.”

>A pillow to the face is all you get in reply.

===

[Much of the rest of my time in this reality has been largely uneventful, at least when compared to the first night. But then again, I suppose it all depends on where you place “getting it on with two living gods at the same time” on the Grand Scale of Awesomeness. Those princesses are pretty cool once you get to know them. They even let me swing the axe!]

[All in all, things have been pretty decent lately. To be honest, I'm actually starting to enjoy this ridiculous journey; even some of the shittier parts are amazing to look back on. I mean, yeah, it sucks I'll probably never see my own versions of my friends again, but so far most of the alternates have been nice enough. Except those fucking badgers. Fuck's sake multiverse, the hell is wrong with you?]

[Now then, if you'll excuse me (and I know you will, because you're a fucking book), I believe the princesses are ready for round two. I feel like a trans-dimensional pioneer, bringing my mighty presence to every reality that needs it.]

[And by that I mean my penis.]