Twenty Eighty-Four
Thought-Journal 2293 of Brawny Boulder Applejack, April 4th, 2084.
My name is Jack Smith Johnson, and I am the last of my kind.
For years, I have hidden in the shadows of society as my kind dwindled; captured by force or simply lured by the promise of hot food, warm beds, and a life free from being hunted. As far as I know, I am the only non-brony left alive. And that won’t be for much longer.
Today, I will be marched to my execution. It isn’t a literal execution, as that would violate one of the Primary Tenets of Faustianity: Thou shalt Love and Tolerate thy fellow beings. Of course, this is superseded by the first Tenet: Thou shalt Love My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic, and seek to emulate its teachings. As wonderful as Love and Tolerance are, it’s more important that I love their show, apparently. Only then do I get the Tolerance the bastards preach. The High Inquisitors of Faustianity shall not stop until I am one of them, and thus my life ends today. Either I shall be condemned to a lifetime of inquisition, or I shall lose my identity. I cannot fake a love of the show. They’ll know. They always know.
I am writing this in the hope that some future generation shall stumble upon it, and learn that there is a choice. You do not have to be a Faustian, no matter what they would have you believe. MLP:FIM is a show originally designed for children and to market a Faust-damned toy line, not as a guideline for human behaviour. They have suppressed this information of course. This isn’t what you’ll learn in your schools, studying the show obsessively and seeking to live your life according to its teachings. Even our names have been molded by it. We used to have a completely different naming system, as evidenced by my true name, Jack Smith Johnson, which I have chosen for myself. This name is likely to seem strange to you. Once, my given name, Brawny Boulder Applejack, would have seemed even stranger to humankind.
Nobody knows when the bronies first took over, or even how. That knowledge is lost forever. From what I’ve picked up orally over the years from the few other rebels I have met, the bronies took over somewhere between sixty and seventy years ago, shortly into the show’s lifespan. After the Pre-Twilicorn Era, but before the Prequels were first produced. They grew exponentially until they had millions of people under their banner. The histories are hazy at this point, but somehow they began gaining a lot of political power, which added legitimacy to the show, which turned into a vicious cycle. Somehow, they took over before the show had finished its twelfth season. If you have found my Thought-Journals, and wish to know more of this, see journals 1900-2000. They’re in there somewhere; I forget exactly where. I’d check it for you, but I don’t exactly have time for a lengthy perusal right now. They’ll be showing up in a few minutes.
What else should I say? What are the most important things you should know? In the event that you’re finding this, you have found the only hope for the anti-Faust movement to continue, to be reborn. Use the sewers. Sewers are old tunnels, now defunct, that were once used to carry waste products throughout cities. Nobody goes down there anymore, except for us rebels and those who seek to catch us. Many of our caches have been found and destroyed, but if you know the signs, you can find them.
I am reluctant to reveal the signs we have kept secret for so long... but if these journals get captured, it won’t matter if they know anymore. So, reader, I shall tell you the signs. When you enter the sewers, begin looking up towards the ceiling. Signs of direction to caches will be the big star from Twilight Sparkle’s cutie mark, surrounded by a circle with a diagonal line going through it. That circle will have a small line extending from it. Face in the direction of the line, and turn ninety degrees to your right. That is the direction of the cache. If the line has been turned into a T, the cache has been confirmed as removed or destroyed. When you find a symbol that tells you to go back the way you came, the cache is very near that spot. Hunt around and you’ll find a hidden door somewhere. That’s where the cache is. Find it! You’ll find shelter, emergency food, survival supplies, and weapons.
I hear voices outside. They’ve found the cache. They’re coming for me. This will be my last Thought-Journal as Jack Smith Johnson. As soon as this finishes, I’m sending it to the tablet I’ve hidden. This is the tablet you now hold in your hands, reader.
Our last hope goes with you.
-Jack Smith Johnson, Non-Brony.
End of Thought-Journal 2293 of Brawny Boulder Applejack, April 4th, 2084.
* * *
Ignoring the loud, deep thump of the door beginning to crack off its foundations, I swiftly sent the last journal and dropped the tablet. Grabbing a hammer, I smashed the device to pieces, shattering the core components again and again, ensuring nothing could ever be recovered from the device.
I placed the hammer down and put my hands in the air as the soldiers entered, moving quickly through the dust of their forced entrance, eyes down the barrels of their stun-guns as they scanned the room. Within seconds, four stun-guns were pointed at me. One of the soldiers spoke into an earpiece. “Room is secured, repeat, room is secured, over.”
A woman entered, wearing the white and dark blue colors of the Inquisition. It probably had some cutesy pony name, but the rebels called it the Inquisition, and it was a far more accurate name than any the government propaganda machine would have come up with. The woman spoke. “Brawny Boulder Applejack, I hereby place you under arrest under charges of theft, assault of official personnel, sedition, and anti-bronyism. Do you plead guilty to these charges?”
There was no point denying them. “Yes,” I said.
“Thank you, Mr. Boulder. Place him under arrest,” the woman said.
I offered my hands willingly to the cuffs. There was always the chance they might get lax in their security if I cooperated enough... but considering how few rebels were left, and how long I’d evaded their clutches, I wasn’t holding my breath. I was cuffed and searched, as more soldiers investigated the cache around me. They quickly found the destroyed tablet, and one of the guards got in my face. “Tell us what was on this. Now.” he said.
The woman held up a hand. “It doesn’t matter, Sergeant. He’ll tell us of his own free will within a few days.” she said, smiling.
“Like hell, bitch.” I said.
The soldier moved violently, but another hand gesture from the woman stopped him. Her smile never wavered, and I felt real fear at that. The woman looked like she had four aces in her hand. Unshakable confidence. Whatever methods they had to bronify me, they had to be damn good.
The search concluded, and they marched me out of the sewers and into the mid-morning sun. I screwed up my eyes as the light entered them. I hadn’t been outside in days, running from cache to cache as the soldiers closed in. And for what? The rebellion was, at last, dead. Crushed under the foot of the Faustians. Nearly a decade of running and hiding personally, decades of slowly dwindling numbers before me...and it all ended here.
I was placed on a special vehicle, in a cage with some sort of shock-absorbing apparatus attached to it, open to the public. They began driving into the heart of Boston, and the crowd began calling out to me. I tensed, ready for the worst.
“Welcome to the fold!”
“We love you!”
“You’ll be among friends soon!”
“Good to see you back, friend!”
“Welcome back to harmony!”
My first reaction was incredulity, but then the fear redoubled. Why were all these people acting as if my breaking was a foregone conclusion? Had...had all the others given in? Did nobody manage to hold on? What the hell did these people have in store for me? I sat down in the cage, suddenly scared. For the first time in years, I was truly scared for my fate. The possibility occurred to me that this was more government propaganda, that the citizens only thought that all the other rebels broke. But the confident expression of the Inquisitor made me think otherwise.
The messages of Love and Tolerance grew more and more frequent as we grew near the giant building at the heart of Boston that served as the government’s local base of operations. It grew a little better as the crowds thickened even further, as I started being unable to make out individual messages, and it became background noise with the occasional word thrown in.
I didn’t know how long the ride lasted. Hours, certainly. Finally, we arrived at a garage and drove down into an underground parking area. The voices grew muted, and died as we ventured further in. There were more guards and inquisitors waiting for us as we parked. Half a dozen guards and three inquisitors were there, including one with Celestia’s cutie mark emblazoned on one shoulder, and Luna’s on the other. One of the High Inquisitors. Again, the fear rose to the surface, and I fought to keep it from my expression and movements. I would not let them know I was afraid.
The High Inquisitor met my eyes, and smiled a knowing smile. I couldn’t keep her gaze for long, and dropped my eyes. She knew. Underneath my false bravado, she knew. She was probably extensively trained in body language to begin with. One didn’t attain a rank like hers without being uncommonly perceptive. They walked me through several halls, all of which looked the same. All of them had the same clean white walls, the same fluorescent lighting that was a little too bright for the environment, and the same cheap-yet-functional doors clearly designed with as much love and attention as a block of steel. Posters of the third Lady Faust and popular ponies from the show were hung up in exact distances from each other, adorning the halls as the only form of decoration. Finally, we entered some sort of lounge or entryway. It had several chairs, a coffee table, a TV (showing nothing but My Little Pony, no doubt), several lamps, and a vase of flowers in the centre of the table.
“You’ll stay here, tonight.” the woman said. “Tomorrow...well, I’ll let you use your imagination.”
She walked out before I could think of a snappy response. After a minute, I sat down in one of the chairs, and just drifted in my own thoughts for a few minutes, eyes unfocused. What was going to happen to me? Could they really make me abandon what I believed in? Could they actually force me to become a brony? All the evidence seemed to suggest they could.
“My name is John Smith Jackson.” I spoke firmly to myself. “I am twenty-nine years old. I am not a brony. I hate My Little Pony. It’s a stupid show, designed for children. It is not suitable for a world religion. I will not become a brony. I will not enjoy My Little Pony. It’s a stupid show, designed for children...”
After a minute or two of this, I stood up and tried the door. Naturally, it was locked. More than likely, it was reinforced, even though it didn’t look like it. Even if I did break out somehow, there were probably guards outside, and I’d still be in the middle of a hostile building in the middle of an equally hostile city. There was no way out.
I checked the rest of the suite. The kitchen was no help. Bathroom was the same. Bedroom: window. Ha! I looked down. At least six stories up. But maybe I could make some sort of ladder...perhaps out of the bed sheets? I stared at the window and thought.
Contemplating my options, I heard a noise. “Don’t even bother.” a man’s voice spoke.
“Who is that? Where are you?” I said, glancing around.
“There’s an intercom. I wouldn’t bother trying to break that window. It’s bulletproof glass. You could hit it with a sledgehammer and it wouldn’t break.” the man said.
“Fuck you!” I said. I walked over to the lamp. Metal. I took it out of its power socket and grabbed it awkwardly. I slammed the metal end against the window as hard as I could. Nothing. I did more damage to my own arms than I did the window.
“Told you.” The voice said.
“Fuck you!” I said again. I ripped off the lampshade and got a better grip. I started hammering at the window again and again, screaming in anger and fear. Finally I stopped, gasping for breath, arms aching. The window was untouched. I threw the lamp at the wall.
“FUCK!” I shouted. I stamped my foot onto the floor, and started to think. How did Intercom Guy know what I was thinking? I was looking at the window, so he must have been able to see me.
Looking around the room, I saw a red dot high up in one of the corners. I stuck my middle finger up at it, and went to check the rest of the suite. There were cameras everywhere. Even the bathroom. Maybe I could steam up the bathroom and...and do what? The door was locked, and probably harder to break through than the glass, and there was no chance of breaking through that either.
I was trapped. There was no escape. None at all.
* * *
They came for me the next day, after breakfast. They fed me. Quite well, even. It didn’t make me feel any better. Knowing you’re about to have forced brainwashing thrust upon you tends to kill the appetite a bit. I ate anyway. Old habit, picked up by soldiers and rebels alike. You don’t turn down food when it’s there, or you’ll regret it when it’s not. They blindfolded me, and walked me through so many corridors that the building couldn’t possibly contain them all. I’m sure we crossed the same corridors three or four times. Finally, they brought me into a room, or what I thought was a room from the acoustic change. They sat me down in a chair, and strapped me in. Removing my blindfold, I turned out to be right about the room.
The part of the room I could see contained nothing but a chair, three High Inquisitors, and a huge armada of flat-screen TVs which I was now facing. There had to be at least fifty. Why they needed so many TV’s, I didn’t know. I had a feeling it was about to be made clear.
“So what now?” I sneered, voice sounding fake even to my own ears. “Going to make me watch My Little Pony until I crack and fall to my knees, pleading forgiveness for ever d-denying such a beautiful, magical show? Is that it? Do you think your precious show is that good?”
Again with the pocket-aces smiles. This wasn’t good. “Not too far off the mark.” the female Inquisitor said. She was a different one to yesterday. This one looked even more formidable. I noticed my hands trembling, and told them to cut it out before anybody saw.
“Play the Pre-Twilicorn Era.” one of the men said. The third Inquisitor headed to obey, beginning to press things on something behind me.
“So, that’s your strategy? Just going to subject me to twenty-something hours of My Little Pony?” I said.
“Oh no.” The man who gave the orders said. “It’ll be much quicker than that. Attach the headphones.”
The man stepped up behind me, and placed a large set of headphones over my ears. They covered my ears entirely, rendering my own breath loud in my ears, and other sounds weirdly muted and deep. Several rubber suction cups were attached to my skull, and I realised they were electrodes. What the fuck was happening?
“Play it.” the head inquisitor said. In an instant, every television came to life, and it began to play. Every episode. At once. The sounds were instantly drilling into my ears, an unceasing cacophony from which there was no escape. Closing my eyes only made it worse, and I looked down at my own legs. Noises, constant high-pitched voices and music, rising in intensity along with a constant, unidentifiable sound of sheer NOISE. I felt physically ill in the first twenty seconds. I tried instinctively to bring my hands up to my ears, but my arms were chained down and it wouldn’t have helped anyway. Looking at the screens, my brain attempted to make some sense of it. I’d see Discord laughing, and hear laughter, but I knew it was only an illusion; there was no way I could hear it louder than thirty high-pitched ponies talking at once.
It took less than ten minutes for the screams to start. “MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!” I shouted. I yelled. I threatened. I pleaded. I begged. Nothing swayed them. I couldn’t get used to it. It should have been getting easier, but it just got worse and worse. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t do anything except wish for it to end. I couldn’t remember where I was, why I was here, my own name. My entire existence was consumed with what felt like a thousand pony noises all bearing down on me at once. My eyes locked with a screen at random, and in desperation, I tried locking out everything but that. I imagined what the ponies were saying, what they were doing, trying to remember the plot in my head. The maelstrom of sound grew dimmer as I focused all my will upon the task.
So slowly that I wondered if I was hallucinating, the screen I was watching began to increase in size as my attention fixed itself upon it. The noise of the episode became clearer, or was it just my imagination? I could hear it now above the chaos, as Fluttershy refused to leave her cottage while two of the others, Rarity and Pinkie Pie negotiated with her, telling her it wasn’t her fault, that she’d gotten some bad advice from Iron Will, whoever he was...
At last, the videos ended with a thunderous rendition of the end song. My ears rung. I felt drained, as if I’d just ran a marathon or been in combat. My head sank forwards as I tried to collect myself.
“Again.” I heard. It began again, and my eyes again locked themselves on the screen of a different episode, as I focused my entire being on excluding every sound except for those.
* * *
“It’s working. I can’t believe the subject’s mind is co-operating so quickly.” the female Inquisitor said.
“What did you expect? Human psychology is all the same.” the head Inquisitor said. “Overwhelm them with sensation, and the brain will do anything to escape, believe anything to escape. After a couple of days of this, his brain will be so convinced that ponies are the answer to his pain that it’ll rationalise a million reasons why he loves the show.”
“How long will it take?” the female spoke.
“I don’t know. I always leave it on for three days to be safe. It could take two and a half days, or we could let him out right now. I choose not to take the chance. Especially since there’s an excellent chance we’ll never need this room again. This is possibly the last non-brony in the United States, certainly the last non-brony in Maresachusetts. I prefer to ensure there is no possibility of relapse.” the head Inquisitor said.
“It’s truly an ingenious design.” the female said. “I take it that whichever episode the subject looks at starts taking up more of the screen?”
“More of the screen and more of the sound, for a while.” the head said. “Then we start doing it to the episodes we choose, when the subject has gotten used to the pattern. There’s nothing more I’m needed here for. Sir, madam, I leave the subject in your hands. If any problem arises, contact me, day or night.”
The head inquisitor left the room, smiling as he did so. Nopony ever lasted three days in the machine.
* * *
Thought-Journal 0001 of Brawny Boulder Applejack, April 9th, 2084.
My name is Brawny Boulder Applejack, and today I was reborn.
For years, I had rejected the beauty of My Little Pony and Faustianity. And for what? Some belief that people should be allowed to choose. But why should we allow people to choose choices that simply make them unhappy? My Little Pony is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. My joy at finally embracing the show is unlike anything I have ever felt before.
I awoke this morning, head pounding, starving, mouth dry, feeling as though I’d slept for a week. I recovered swiftly though, with a huge breakfast and two bottles of Rainbow Dash sports drink to replenish the electrolytes. Then they brought my family in.
There were tears in all of our eyes as I hugged the people I loved most, the ones I hadn’t seen in years, Daisy Blossom, Cloud Blossom, and Steel Boulder. “It’s so wonderful to have you back, son.” Cloud said, holding me so tight it hurt. I didn’t even mind as I hugged back just as tightly.
We spent hours talking, catching up, just basking in each other’s company again. My life finally felt complete. Eventually, they had to leave as I had an appointment with my new therapist, Whisper Song. We spoke about how I felt about my new life, and Whisper Song was very pleased. I did raise my concerns, of where I was going to live, that I no longer knew what to do with my life, but Whisper Song assured me I wouldn’t have to worry about that for some time. She asked me who my favourite pony was, and after some thought, I told her it was Twilight Sparkle, because she had gone her entire life without knowing true friendship until she found how wonderful it truly was, just like I had with the show. Whisper Song gave me a hug after that answer, and she was quite happy. She told me Twilight was a wonderful choice.
After my appointment with Whisper Song, I was taken to see Regal Summer, who introduced himself by his full name of Regal Summer Fluttershy. Regal Summer talked with me about how the government would provide for me for a while, while I completed my own re-education. There were, he told me, one thousand nine hundred and eleven episodes of My Little Pony for me to watch. Not all of them were out yet, he said, but by the time I got to them, they would be. That’s going to be something for me to do over the next year, which works out to be about five and a half episodes a day, or a little less than two hours. Considering how much I’m looking forward to it, I don’t think it’s going to take me the full year! So many episodes to watch; I feel giddy with excitement just thinking about it.
After that, I asked him how I could go about joining the Twilight Sparkle Society. He told me that I shouldn’t join a Society yet. I had to watch all the episodes first. How else could I truly know who my favourite pony was? This made sense, and I was happy with that.
Before I got to see where I was going to live, I still had one more thing to do. I met with a higher-end official, Dusk Shimmer. I was asked several questions about my past activities. Dusk told me that no matter how treasonous, I would be forgiven. The most important thing was to bring anypony else back into the fold. It hurt to think back on those times, but I happily cooperated. I would hate for somepony else to fall prey to it. I told them I was the last non-brony that I knew of. I told them what I’d really done with the destroyed tablet, and where I’d hidden the tablet with all my Thought-Journals on them. I told them it contained treasonous content, but Dusk just smiled and said that was fine, and that they would be destroyed. What a relief!
I was shown to my new home. It’s very nice; a quiet place on the outskirts of Boston, only a short drive from my parents’ house. I’ll be allowed to live on my own, but I’ll need to meet with Whisper Song and a government officer a couple of times a week. I don’t mind this, either.
After I got settled in, I watched some of the episodes, properly this time. They were so much better now than in my youth, now that I was actually paying attention to them and relishing every moment. I’m only ten episodes in and I can already tell why you never ask a person what their favourite episode is. It’s impossible to pick just one. I’m already tossing up between three, and I’m not even through the first season yet. Twilight is still my favourite pony, though I like Applejack as well. Like father, like son, I suppose.
So I watched a few episodes, ate dinner, watched a couple more, then sat down to write this journal. I almost don’t want to sleep, but the episodes will be there in the morning, and not like I can get through them all in one sitting anyway.
All in all, my life finally feels complete.
I love My Little Pony.
Faust Be With Us,
Brawny Boulder Applejack.
End of Thought-Journal 0001 of Brawny Boulder Applejack, April 9th, 2084.
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I'm trying to figure out why this story has three dislikes. Maybe because it's a story about an Anti-Brony who was converted or because it is short. But it's well written and I definetly enjoyed reading it.
Faustianity... I wonder what Faust would say after reading this. An interesting reading though
NO JACK SMITH JOHNSON, NO
Poor guy.
Hmmmm . . . That was . . . interesting. I actually thought that it was kind of funny, too. I found it particularly funny that they all changed their names. Good story. The relativity isn't too far off . . . . Soon . . . .
This is how the future will look like. We have to castrate bronies before they start to breed with horses. The Internet has changed. Before MLP we had heterosexualism and boobies everywhere. Now its all full of faggots, rainbows and pictures of colorful horses getting fucked by a "brony"... or just horses fucking themselves. Fuck this world. Come on, you all can hate me. This will only show how false the love and tolerance rule is.
This future... it scares me
Wow That is like Wow
Oh gosh.
This story...
I love fics like this that make you think.
I need MOAR! What'll happen to the rest of the resistance? Could they possibly have inside men in brony cities? This could be so much more! Will Jack - sorry, Brawny - have a relapse? How are Inquisitors and High Inquisitors chosen? Is there a ritual of some description?
You just threw a little bit out there and then said "I'm done."
Have the Faustians found a way to synthesize artificial magic yet?
What about the rest of the world, where MLP isn't so popular? Is Germany Faustian? The UK? Japan?
Are there other fandom-organized governments? I'd love to see a political meeting held on the U.S.S Enterprise between a Homestuck leader and a Saiyan leader, with a Lagannite presiding.
Why, author? Why do you do this to me? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!??
2735931
I don't get it either. The comments seem almost entirely positive.
2735993
Not at all. This isn't meant to be commentary at all. The idea just popped into my head when I saw this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zR7V_bCyZe0 It's just a story idea, nothing more.
2736567
Funny you should say that, since this fic was originally intended to be a comedy. But the entire story is written from the perspective of characters that take their situations very seriously, so I turned it into a straight exploration of a weird premise.
2738102
A lot of the stuff you asked about isn't where I was going, but there is a LOT of the world that I wasn't able to put in this fic. I didn't think about the world for too long, but I did need to have a logical framework for the story. To answer some of your questions:
The Resistance is not dead. Jack only believes it is because he hasn't thought there might be a world-wide resistance, and he hasn't meant any other resistance members for a long time.
There's no artificial magic; this is fairly hard sci-fi, it's meant to be realistic apart from the initial premise that bronies took over the planet. After that, things should make sense. That said, who knows what kind of technology we'll develop in seventy years.
I hadn't thought about other countries, to be honest. There aren't any governments based on other fandoms, and Faustianity is pretty ubiquitous, but it's possible that low-tech countries without the same level of access to the internet as us (Which is really where the initial brony wave spread in our own world) like sub-Saharan Africa may not have converted entirely to Faustianity, and may even accept those who don't.
If I had to take a guess, I'm guessing that if much of the Western world became theocratic in this fashion, there'd be massive economic incentives for poorer countries to convert, as well as internet/TV subsidisation so they could see it for themselves. Like how the Church sends missionaries now, only on an internationally funded scale. If I had to name a single country that would be most likely NOT to accept Faustianity it would have been Japan; very inclusive culture, and we don't have anything they want.
And yet, even in the present day, they're making their own MLP:FIM. So...if Japan isn't safe, who is?
And why do I do this to you? Because I have a bad habit of overthinking things, and I think it seeped through here, considering there are a number of things I barely touched on or hinted at in the story that have their own more in-depth explanations. As for whether I'll write another, well that really depends on if I get another story idea. I don't think the world can carry a story on it's own, it needs a plotline, and I have no idea what that plot would be yet.
Your description freaked me out because I am currently holding a nook tablet right now...
2738873
HAH! I imagine that must have been a mindfuck for a couple of seconds.
"HOW DID HE KNOW I WAS ON A TABLET? ...Oh right."
2737961 Because I was once a brony, when the internet wasn't full of faggots.
2736747
which is cool because i troll all the time too. and besides this was never meant as anti brony material it was originally supposed to be comedic and heavy thought inducing if anything I think its more for bronies then a lot of other fics that are around it shows us that we shouldn't let us get to serious about (at least in our current level of technology and dimension)imaginary ponies because i mean seriously if we go to far with this version of mlp what about the other three versions??? and don't get me started on version three 
I think its cute how you claim (or act like) to be a non brony yet ... you still use fimfiction
if you ask me your probably trolling
And when hasn't thee internet been full of faggots? the first three days it was invented?
to classify all bronies( because thats what it appears your doing) as fggots would be labeling yourself one as well because your still using fimfic?? i mean a faggot(I don't approve of this word) is someone who has sex with other men (derogatorily) and your saying bronies are fagots(implying)and since bronies are the only ones who would be interested to use fim fic (out side of trolls) and your using fimfic A=B=C=D means you are a homosexual or a troll...... right?
2741161 I'm a non-brony yet I still use the site. I'm also an avid reader, enjoying reading fanfiction from every genre and every fandom on the internet and in pop culture. While I do believe Bluellama is trolling (And very successfully judging by the answers he's received), you've just fed his ego and search for recognition. Shoulda just ignored him, flagged him, and let the admins/mods take care of him.
2741161 Nope. I'm not a man, I'm a llama and llamas can't be gay. Escpecially the blue ones. And why do I have an account here? Well I made it long time before I started to hate all of you. I'm still here, because there are some stories that I have to read and I never leave a book unread. Btw. By faggots I mean the other meaning, the one you use on that one site that starts with a 4.
2738569
Would you mind so terribly if I took this ball and ran with it? I have so many ideas surrounding this fic, such as each society giving their members some sort of physical change/augmentation and the fact that not everyone in New Equestria (Which is what I imagine the Faustians would call America) is as much of a religious brony as they seem...
2743164 Not really. I've been around the internet for a while (1997-1998 when it really started to get rolling...back in the days of AOL and dial-up, to be precise), and I can usually tell when someone is trolling without being a troll myself.
2742174
I don't mind at all. In fact, I consider it a supremely high compliment that someone is inspired enough by my idea to want to write about it! Would you like me to send you some of the stuff I've come up with about the Bronyverse, as I've just dubbed it, or would you prefer the ambiguity that allows you to fill in your own gaps?
2742342
I considered a first-person version of that, but it didn't quite fit the character :)
I enjoyed this story greatly. I'd like some more explanation of the "convincing" Jack to be a brony, the method seems a bit sketchy.
2741513>>2742342
though I get what your saying that is in itself what the fan fic is trying to discourage (at least to my understanding) its supposed to tell us not to think in the cultist way that bronies are being presented. The most important part of any fandom is choice thats why are country is so successful there are very few restrictions on what were allowed to do(plz don't make this a political fight, i'm just saying we wouldn't be as technologically advanced if we weren't allowed to get public educations and stuff) so when we take away that choice and in essence force him to become a brony against his will we cross a line that was never supposed to exist that we created when we took his freedom from him.
2746086
I actually posted it as a joke. Sorry if I offended anyone. My actual feelings can be described by this:
"With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censored, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably. The first time any man's freedom is trodden on, we're all damaged."
2744321
I wouldn't mind what you've got. If I can learn how, I'll PM you the things I intend to write about, and we can work from there. This fic has so much potential it makes my ears ring!
2746464
the writing flowed very naturally
I was really hoping that this was the point of the fic because it's the message that I got from it. I don't want to saound like an ass hole but to bullema I say: I told you so
also GREAT story
2756607
Glad to hear it! It took a lot of editing to make that happen, so I'm glad to know I succeeded.
2744321
Can you send aforementioned stuff to me? It sounds very intriguing.
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...Mind overwhelmed by sounds, nobody survived?
Now that I can't believe. There had to be someone with a will strong enough to ignore it.
7358916
Easy; the inquisitor lied. Those who fail to break are drugged, the low-level mooks are told that they're simply exhausted from their conversion, and they are quietly never seen again. The head inquisitor actually THINKING this lie privately to himself merely underscores the level of doublethink inherent in the society.
Alternatively, this story started with a scenario that was meant to be funny, and turned surprisingly serious in the telling. Your pick :)
7371247 Ah, now I see.
...Underhanded but smart >_>. Thanks for clarifying!