Part 3. A Reflection, the Peculiarities of Mermares, and the Role of the Equine Matchmaker
Mating Customs of Species Equus parvus
by Dr. D. G. D. Davidson, PhD.
Revised by Lyra Heartstrings
A Reflection
As I walked back to my flat, I ruminated. My earlier impression had been, of course, that loves between humans and ponies were always one-sided, yet Princess Twilight’s short-lived romance with a man was a singular instantiation of equine attraction to a human being, something I had previously assumed simply did not occur. Admittedly, I could not understand much of what the princess had told me—something about another world and special circumstances—but she was nonetheless a case far different from the others I had encountered.
Apparently, the process of the development of romantic affection is also different for her, more resembling a human pattern. Is this the result of some mutation in her makeup? Or is this a peculiarity in some way associated with her transformation into an “alicorn,” the unique breed that—so the ponies claim—combines the signature attributes of the three subspecies?
I have, alas, no way of answering these questions, and it is clear that Princess Twilight will not be a cooperative informant.
I wasn’t hungry, but I stopped at a small bistro to buy a bagel and look back over the notes I had scratched in the library with an almost dry pen. Miss Heartstrings’s words from the night before echoed through my mind: there were things she didn’t want to know, things that overstepped what she saw as the proper boundaries between herself and other ponies.
After a few hesitations, I tore the pages out and stuffed them in my pocket before folding up my notebook. The ponies admire their princesses and tend to idealize them; it would no doubt distress Miss Heartstrings a great deal if she knew Princess Twilight indulged in behavior the ponies consider unacceptable.
The Peculiarities of Mermares
Since I often enjoy taking walks around Ponyville, I decided to set out for Lovestruck’s cottage earlier than I needed to, so that I might spend some time taking the early afternoon air. As I was strolling about in the town square, I happened to notice sitting on the steps of the distinctively shaped town hall (Fig. 9) an earth pony in unusual garb.
Fig. 9: Ponyville’s town hall.
This pony wore loose duck trousers on his hindquarters, and on his foreparts he wore a checked shirt. Far back on his head sat a well-varnished tarpaulin hat, from which a long black ribbon hung over his left eye. By these strange clothes, I knew him for what the ponies call an “old salt,” but since Ponyville is several miles inland, his appearance aroused curious glances and sometimes remarks from those who passed by him.
He seemed to take no notice of the attention, but merely pulled a pipe from his pocket, filled it well full of liquid soap, and began to blow bubbles.
Sweeping the fringes of my long coat around my legs, I sat down beside him.
“G’day,” he said to me around his pipe.
“Good day,” I replied. “I take it you’re not from around these parts?”
He chuckled. “Neither are you.”
“How true. Vacation?”
“If you please. Sailed into Horseshoe Bay on the Prancing Mare, seven hundred and fifty days out of Hind, and came inland with our cargo on the dirigible Lofty. I’m down from Canterlot on short leave.”
That told me much: he was indeed a sailor of the merchant marines, and if he came from the Hindies, his cargo to Canterlot had almost certainly been of tea and spices, items the ponies were loath to do without, and for which they would pay dear.
“I’m a researcher,” I said, “and I was recently told an interesting story of which I’d like to know further details. Are you by any chance aware of a land stallion who married a mermare?”
He chuckled again and blew an especially large bubble out of his pipe. “The sea has many legends, lad. But I think you must be speakin’ of ol’ Hoofbeard.”
“The name rings a bell—”
He spat. “A pirate.”
“Ah.”
“His mermare retired him from the brigand’s way, at least, an’ there ain’t a true sailor in all the seven seas what don’t rest easier in his berth knowin’ that.”
“I know next to nothing about these mermares. Are they considered ponies?”
Squinting, he pulled his pipe from his mouth. “Hm, there’s a question. Can’t but rightly say. Pony? Fish? Somethin’ else? Them sea ponies they call our cousins, an’ they’re a friendly lot, known to help sailors in storms. But the mermares? They’re strange, and they don’t care to truck with the surface world.”
“So how did this Hoofbeard woo one?”
“Who knows? Read her flow’ry poetry from the poop deck, maybe. But I can tell you this: mermares are wondrously beautiful. It’s said that in the old days they used to sing to sailors to make ’em throw themselves from their ships an’ drown. King Leo stopped that, o’ course, but sometimes stallions throw themselves off their ships anyway, just at the sight of ’em, if the mermares swim close.”
“If they’ve lost interest in drowning ponies, that might explain why they avoid contact with land-dwellers.”
“Aye, it might. Couldn’t rightly say what moves ’em. But I seen three of ’em meself, a long ways off, sunnin’ themselves on the rocks like seals.” He shook his head. “We lost a boy from the riggin’ that day. Fell off the mainmast with a strap and block, a coil of halyards, and a marline spike about his neck. Sank like a stone, o’ course. Some say he slipped, but a few claimed he caught a glimpse o’ them mermares an’ jumped.”
After a pause, he added, “’Tis a hard thing to lose a stallion at sea, you know; he’s become a constant in your life, but then he’s gone as quick as that.”
He tapped a hoof to the wooden step for emphasis.
“You might have heard,” I said, “that members of my species have a reputation for chasing ponies.”
He laughed. “Aye, I have. But I hear a lot of things, lad, and many ain’t worth slushin’ grease.”
“Since these men never meet success, you must understand that I’m quite surprised to hear of ponies chasing after—well, after something that isn’t quite a pony.”
He lazily shrugged his shoulders, placed his pipe firmly between his teeth, and said, “They’re like mares, but they’re more beautiful than any you’ve seen. An’ it’s a fact that a stallion a long time at sea will do crazy things for a pretty face.”
The Role of the Equine Matchmaker
Knowing nothing about her aside from cryptic references, I found my heart hammering hard in my chest as I made my way up the walkway to Lovestruck’s cottage.
It was obvious that, whatever Lovestruck did, it paid well: although still modest by urban standards, her house was larger than most in Ponyville, and more lavishly decorated. Several rosebushes bloomed in the spacious and carefully manicured front lawn, and a few trees growing beside the house had been meticulously trimmed into heart shapes. The lawn’s centerpiece was a fountain, washed in a garish pink, in the shape of a rearing pony spewing water from her mouth.
Although an eyesore in itself, the fountain fit the general theme. Pink was prominent here: the thatch of Lovestruck’s roof was dyed pink, as was the adobe of her walls. Embedded pink gemstones even glistened from her front walk.
When I reached the front door, I knocked three times, doffed my hat, and listened to the burbling fountain and my pounding heart as I waited.
“Just a minute!” came a singsong voice from inside the house. A few seconds later, the door flew open, and I came face-to-face with Lovestruck herself.
I’m unsure what I was expecting, but Lovestruck was a decidedly comely unicorn mare. Her mane and tail, unsurprisingly, were bright pink, though of a more reddish and less festive hue than, say, that of Miss Pinkie Pie. Lovestruck’s coat was white, but appeared to my eye to be slightly tinged, like most everything else in the vicinity, with pink. When she invited me in and stepped aside, I caught a glimpse of the “cutie mark” on her haunch: it had the shape of a bow firing an arrow tipped with a heart.
I ducked through the door and found the house’s interior as extravagant and sumptuous as its exterior. Although a large house, it felt stuffy and cramped on account of the decorations: everywhere I turned, I met brocaded drapes, lavishly framed mirrors, or curvaceous pieces of furniture carved from black walnut. My nose twitched to the scents of several flowers, mostly roses, chrysanthemums, orange blossoms, heliotropes, honeysuckle, jasmine, and tulips, which stood in delicately painted porcelain vases on most every available surface.
In spite of the feminine delicacy of Lovestruck’s taste in décor, Lovestruck herself gave an impression of strength and vitality. Her movements, as she walked ahead of me and led me deeper into her house, appeared confident and lithe. Firm and precisely coordinated muscles rippled under her coat with each step she took. She walked with a slight sway of her hindquarters, producing the impression of a sensuality that was in most ponies wholly or almost wholly absent.
At last, we reached a narrow, arched doorway leading into yet another lavishly decorated room. She turned to me, batted her long eyelashes, gestured with a hoof, and said in her musical voice, “Come into my parlor.”
I nodded and ducked through the doorway.
The parlor in question was decorated in rococo. More brocaded drapes, stitched with patterns too complex for my eye to decipher, framed bay windows set with leaded glass. A round-topped fireplace, cold because the weather was warm, filled one wall. Candles twinkled in a crystal chandelier overhead. On a small table in the center of the room, a golden tea service was already waiting, and surrounding the table were a few chairs and a chaise longue covered in red velvet.
I headed for one of the chairs, but Lovestruck slipped catlike onto the chaise longue, leaned on one foreleg, and patted the remaining bare space on the chaise’s end, suggesting I should sit at her hooves.
A lump appeared in my throat, but I complied. Her thick tail came to rest against my left leg.
With a levitation spell, Lovestruck poured tea into two eggshell-thin cups and floated one of them into my hands.
“Do you take sugar?” she asked.
“No.”
“Milk?”
“No.”
She dropped three lumps of sugar and a dollop of milk into her own cup and then levitated it beside her head.
Trying to avoid spilling the tea, I shifted in my seat and pulled out my notebook and newly filled fountain pen. “Now, Miss—”
She cut me off with a giggle. After sipping daintily from her cup, she said, “Oh, come now. You can call me Lovey.” She batted her eyelashes again.
“Uh—”
“And what should I call you?” she asked, her voice taking on a decidedly sultry note.
I placed my teacup back on the tray, tugged at my collar, and said, “Most ponies simply call me Dr. Davidson—”
Lovestruck clucked. “How dry.” She sipped her tea again, lowered her voice almost to a whisper and said, “But what does Lyra call you, hmm?”
“Miss Heartstrings? She calls me Dr. Davidson.”
Lovestruck rolled her eyes and shifted her body to turn her face away from me. “No surprise there. Pity.”
“So, anyway, Miss—”
“Lovey.” She swished her tail against my leg.
“. . . Lovey. What is it you do, exactly?”
“That depends. What is it you need, sweetheart?” She crossed her right hind leg over her left, thereby jutting her hip into the air and letting her cutie mark catch the flickering candlelight.
“I’m at a loss here. Several ponies have mentioned your name, something about helping them get over unrequited desires.” I paused, lowered my pen, and said, “Are you some sort of prosti—?”
With a sharp blow of a hind hoof against my ribs, she knocked me to the floor, where I doubled up in pain.
Flipping her body over, she crawled to the end of the chaise longue and stared at me. Through the tears running down my face, I could see unmasked contempt on her face.
“I trained under Princess Mi Amore Cadenza herself,” she hissed. “Never speak of me that way.”
“Who are you?” I cried. “What are you?”
She jumped from the chaise, and I scrambled away from her as she flicked her tail at my face. “I give and I take away,” she said. “Everypony in Ponyville looks to me for her happiness, for I hold her life in my hooves. Eternal love? I can grant it. Or to be alone, miserable, and wretched forever—that I can grant, too.”
Her horn flashed bright blue like a beacon, and my heart exploded. As if I were a marionette yanked by its puppet master, I pitched up onto my knees and groveled at her hooves. In an instant, she became to me a goddess, terrible as an army with banners, and every nerve in my frame ached with desire for her, yet at the same time trembled in awful agony and fear that, merely by being in her presence, I had desecrated her, as if I had walked unconsecrated into a hallowed shrine—
Her horn flashed again, and the sensation passed. I came back to myself, Lovestruck was once again a mere pony to me, and I cut a ridiculous figure kneeling and quivering on her Persian rug. Clutching my side, which still smarted from her kick, I rose shakily to my feet. Sweat had saturated my shirtfront.
“That is my magic,” said Lovestruck.
I swallowed and took a few deep breaths before I found my voice. “You can artificially produce the emotional accompaniments of infatuation,” I said.
“Or remove them.”
“And what’s the point of this?”
She cocked her head and raised one eyebrow. “Let us say you have met the eyes of a hundred ponies and never once fallen in love. Your youth is fading like a spring flower, and you feel hopeless as you face the possibility of a life alone. What do you do?”
“See you?”
She nodded. “Precisely. With a touch of my horn, I can make you fall in love with anypony at all, even one you might never have thought to fancy on your own.”
“And why do ponies talk of seeing you when they’re already in love?”
A grin spread across her face. I didn’t like the way she showed her teeth. “Why, if you love, but receive no love in return, what’s the point of pining away when you can simply make the feeling disappear?”
She stepped to me, stretched her neck, and rubbed her muzzle up my right arm. “Any uncomfortable feelings you’d like to go away, sweetie? I’m offering a discount this week.”
“I’m a scientist,” I replied. “My feelings do not perturb me because I keep them in check.”
Craning her neck to look up at me, she rested her chin on my chest. Her pale green eyes looked moist in the dim light. “Do you now?”
I took a step back from her. “You say Princess Mi Amore Cadenza trained you? You mean Cadance? The crystal princess?”
“None other.”
“Can you get me passage to the Crystal Empire?”
“Not a chance.”
“I think an interview with the princess—”
“If she wants to talk to you, she’ll have to come down here. No expatriates get into the Empire. The crystal ponies’ traditions, you know, are very important to their security. They can’t have too much outside influence.”
“And does the crystal princess approve of all your methods?”
Her smile turned thin. “Cadance taught me my methods, of course, but she’s too timid. She lacks vision.”
She stepped around the chaise longue, walked to the far side of the parlor, and pulled aside a curtain I hadn’t previously noticed. Behind the curtain stood three easels containing large notepads full of charts, diagrams, and equations. I couldn’t follow the work, but mixed in with the various figures were the names of ponies I knew.
“Here,” said Lovestruck, “using Cadance’s equations, I have charted all the interrelationships of the ponies in Ponyville. With my magic, I have even discerned their innermost, hidden desires. I know which marriages are strong and which are flagging. I know which unspoken yearnings are hopeless and which are mutual. I even know the transient schoolyard crushes that form and disappear daily at the schoolhouse. I know which ponies are friends, which are strangers, and which are enemies.”
She gazed at her charts for a moment before turning her pale green eyes back on me, and in those eyes I thought I saw a feverish twitching—a hint, perhaps, of the maniacal. “I know,” she said, her voice now low and husky. “I know even if they do not. Ponyville is a town already renowned for its love and hospitality, but when I am through, it will be greater still! I will cast my spells over everypony in this town! Nopony will be without friends, and nopony will be without a lover! I shall make Ponyville the love capital of all the world!”
She tipped her head back and cackled.
My heart once again pounded painfully in my chest, as if it were trying to break through my ribs. “But you’re just manipulating everyone’s feelings. It isn’t real—”
She cocked her eyebrow again. “Sweetheart, they’re feelings. If you feel them, then of course they’re real. They’re your feelings, no matter where they’ve come from.”
“But Miss Cheerilee told me about a love poison she drank once. It made her feel things she didn’t—”
“Oh, that.” Lovestruck snorted and looked up at her charts again. “Yes, potions can be tricky. Unicorn magic is much more reliable. The problem with her potion, sugar, was that it ruined her ability to function. But what it made her feel was still what she felt, no?”
She flipped through a few more pages on one of the easels until she arrived at what looked like a flowchart. “Cheerilee,” she muttered. “Cheerilee. Yes, in love with Big Macintosh, of course. Big Mac is one of my thorniest cases, you see: I’ve got twelve mares in love with him, including one of the Wonderbolts, who follows him like a puppy whenever she’s in town. Even Princess Luna was chasing him for a while.”
She clucked. “Well, they can’t all have him. After all, we are not Arabians.” She magicked a marker into the air and drew a red line between two of the boxes on her chart. “Yes, I’m afraid all those unrequited loves will simply have to disappear, and then Big Mac will have a beautiful, epic romance with . . . Princess Twilight. Yes, that should do it.”
She capped her marker and turned back to me with a bright smile.
“I think Cheerilee really loves him,” I said quietly.
“I’m sure she does, but so do several others. Big Mac, however, fancies Princess Twilight—why else would he sleep with her old plush toy?”
I blinked. “He does what?”
“My dear human, you haven’t a romantic bone in your body. Have you never stolen a possession of your beloved and taken it to bed?”
“Well, not that I can—”
“So, you see, this is easiest. I simply eliminate all the other crushes, give the princess a crush on Big Mac, and everypony is happy.”
“I think—”
I paused and licked my lips, remembering the notes I’d torn from my notebook. I had promised myself that I would keep those notes away from ponies, but I forged ahead anyway. “I think Princess Twilight loves someone else.”
Lovestruck’s grin grew wider, and she nodded. “Oh, I know all about it—loving in secret a man and a stallion who are the same and yet not the same. It’s a bad business, and it’s best she were rid of it. A simple, wholesome farm stallion is more her type, even if she doesn’t know it.”
Once again undulating her hips, with her eyelids half lowered, she walked toward me. “My plan is almost entirely in place. Soon, I will visit each pony in turn, cast a spell, and banish loneliness from Ponyville. Only one stands in my way.”
Her green eyes flashed. “You. You and your stupid interviews, bringing to light what ponies had kept hid, making them realize about themselves things they hadn’t realized before. I can sense changes in the hearts of the ponies of this town. Right now, I must make only a few minor adjustments, but if I let you continue, all my work will be for naught.”
As I backed away from her, my left arm came up against a flower-filled china vase sitting on an end table.
She raised her head high, and her horn glimmered. “I think, dearie, it’s time you had an embarrassing and utterly discrediting love affair—perhaps with a goat.”
(Fig. 10.)
Fig. 10: Equestrian goat.
“I think,” I said, “that an ass would be more traditional.” I picked up the vase and chucked it at her. With a loud crunch, it smashed on her horn and sprayed flowers, water, and sherds of china across the room. Lovestruck shrieked.
I spun and ran as hard as I could. The sound of Lovestruck’s hooves pounding against the hardwood floor resounded from behind me, and just as I reached the entryway, I saw a blue magical glow snap the front door’s deadbolt into place.
“Not so fast!” Lovestruck screamed.
Equestrian construction is not the most sturdy. I sprinted, and when I reached the door, I turned sideways and hit it with my shoulder. A shock of sharp pain rocketed down my arm, but the hinges burst free of the adobe wall, and I tumbled head-over-heels down Lovestruck’s front walk. As soon as I stopped tumbling, I scrambled to my feet again, ran, and reached the street.
I at last took a moment to look over my shoulder, but, as I had hoped, Lovestruck didn’t dare follow me to a public place.
Several ponies on the street stopped to stare at me, and I’m sure I was quite a sight: the right sleeve of my jacket was torn almost completely away, my shirt was soaked, my tie was askew, and no doubt I had a wild look to my face. I tried to tip my hat to give some reassurance of normalcy, but my hand met only air, as I’d left my coat and hat in Lovestruck’s house.
Of all that had just happened, the loss of my outermost garments was perhaps the most disconcerting.
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Well, she's not wrong, except in the bit where she somehow assumes that having the talent to manipulate these things gives her the authority to. It's quite refreshing.
Reminds me of a changeling. Surprised that they haven't come up in his notes.
Anyway, time for her to panic when something goes wrong. Ponies are hardly known for their mental capabilities when things go south, and she's now due for a breakdown.
I feel pretty confident in saying that, if this was actually how ponies acted, I'd have absolutely nothing to do with 'em.
What are you an idiot?! And no, you do not go into a lady's parlor! That's an obvious trap!
And she is a shipper! The most horrible of all beings!
4026455
Obviously when she asked him about Lyra. Them shipping goggles are tight on her head.
Jeez. This "Dr. Davidson" really has no tact...
Well, this story seems to have evolved from a kind of academic analysis of Equestrian romantic psychology, into something more resembling a traditional story, now with a villain apparently. It's somewhat not what I was expecting, but it's definitely getting interesting.
Well I only did pick up on this story today and I must admit I'm thrilled with it.
Lets see, personal musings and thoughts first. It's an interesting change from a lot of stories I've read, and after so much time reading older academic literature and historical travelogues from the 18th century, it really does have that brilliantly warm feeling to it. Parts of it fondly reminds me of Swift and de Tocqueville without venturing into the excesses of Sterne's Sentimental Journey. Maybe because it feels somewhat similar in some respects to Sterne but being a diametric opposite, I can't help but like it all the more. I love the style and can't wait to see how everything comes together, Lyra's extract combined with Ol' Salty's tales of the meremares is particularly wicked teasing.
I couldn't sensibly give too much discourse into the biological factors in it, as it's not my field but I love hearing about it and the conjecture surrounding it. That said, I'd agree with Warpd in my surprise about the lack of the changelings mentioned. Call me paranoid, but it also makes me all the more interested in Lovestruck studying under 'Mi Amore Cadenza' (has she used used that title outside of A Canterlot Wedding?). This chapter, combined with the previous had me really thinking about it too. Twilight had said
But does the cutie mark determine if it is their business? Does that make the meddling and manipulation tremendously different from the relationship between Farm-ponies and Pegasi as far as the crops go? Given the difference in sensibilities between species I'm quite intrigued at how ponies view this and if it's merely another acceptable aspect of ensuring Order and Harmony artificially like the bacchic functionaries(I adore that term).
Lyra's feelings, reciprocation, instigation, and remonstration; the Hindies spice trade, and the tonal dissonance between the style and protagonist's mad flight at the end, all seem to really be sticking with me. What can I say, except 'I can't wait to see how things unfold'. Très bon monsieur Davidson
Scary post is scary
Sharp paint's the worst when it gets under a fingernail. We had a boat with self-leaching paint on the hull, and if one ran a hand across it carelessly...
4026414 Yup.
As for Lovestruck, well...
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4026850
You're absolutely right. At the very least, a passing explanation for the changelings would be appropriate. They practice mind control, as opposed to any mating custom. But with the very nature of love now being called into question, and tran-species relationships being a theme since chapter one, they are worth acknowledging.
I'm predicting that there will be a "good" ending, in which Mr. Davidson is able to tell the appropriate ponies about Lovestruck's plans, and she is stopped, detained and lectured (unless the whole thing turns out to be legal; I did get the impression though that she was planning on enchanting whoever she pleased without permission; Davidson should at least have a right to complain about attempted goat shipping). However, Lovestruck will be left out of jail after 15 minutes, after she or somepony else records her morale error for posterity, and everypony will keep walking around like nothing was different from yesterday.
4026793
I'd like to know where he even came to that conclusion. I mean, from what I was reading, I assumed Lovestruck to be the town matchmaker. ...And I was right, except that she's FREAKING CRAZY to boot. Should have figured, her official artwork does share Twilight's character model.
After a few hesitations, I tore the pages out and stuffed them in my pocket before folding up my notebook.
Ah, so this story is more of a personal diary than the actual research paper.
“Cadance taught me my methods, of course, but she’s too timid. She lacks vision.”
Whenever the student says something like this about the teacher...you know bad things are going to happen.
It did get me to thinking about self defense against ponies. I wonder if magic could somehow be grounded, like with a touch of metal. Failing that, I suppose you could aim for the huge eyes.
4027079
I'd certainly like to see their treatment in this story, certainly. And you have an excellent point: it is mind control and love is more of a tangible resource than anything involving custom or emotion (as far as we've seen). What is the nature of love fundamentally, and does that change with species – beyond divergent customs- or is it universal.
Hmm, believe I share your prediction about a good ending as well. I don't think I'd be the slightest bit surprised if your prediction came true to a tee either, mate. Though it does have me wondering if this will end on the bitter-sweet note alluded to in Lyra's forward, or if the epilogue will see Dr. Davidson coming back with an appended chapter describing the Mermares or sea ponies. Given they appear to be basically unknown and uncomfortably described by their land-kin it could make an interesting point of note if ponies were interested in seeing their side of the unrequited romance. In effect it`s opening the door to an open parallel and dialogue.
I'm quite interested in seeing exactly how this is handled, eager really
.
What perturbs me the most about this development with Lovestruck is, well, Lovestruck herself.
It’s not so much that she seems to have stared too long into the abyss. It’s her position as an apparent matchmaker. We’ve been told, through our narrator, that she is a matchmaker. We’ve been told, through Princess Twilight, that she is “one of Cadence’s.” We’ve been told, by Lovestruck herself, that she studied under Princess Cadence.
We have not, at any single point in the course of our reading of this record, been presented any credentials to support these claims. Certainly, she is a matchmaker; everyone knows that she is, and presumably she must hold some sort of license or permit. This is, after all, particularly heavy magic we’re discussing.
But as to the other two claims, there is so far no hard evidence to substantiate them. Princess Twilight may be misinformed, after all, either by a misunderstanding of some communication with Princess Cadence, or deliberately by Lovestruck herself. The same couple well apply to all of Ponyville. And we very well can not trust Lovestruck’s word on the matter, as it is her reputation that would be at stake, and she has every reason to lie if she has not, in fact, actually studied under Princess Cadence.
Either way, there is unfortunately very little that Dr. Davidson can do in order to affect a positive outcome for this situation. I suspect that it will not be long before Lovestruck comes knocking at his door with the local constabulary; he is, after all, guilty of assault, battery, and conversion, and as Lovestruck appears to be well-respected in the community, she could very well add trespass and burglary to the list. After all, only she, Davidson, and Lyra know of his prior appointment. Davidson himself would have very little in the way of options for defense available to him; at best, he could make the argument that her behavior during his appointment was unprofessional and inappropriate- which is was- and that he believed himself to be in legitimate danger. At best.
The single best option for defense he has, unfortunately, may be to leave Ponyville. If he could get to Canterlot, he might perhaps secure an audience with the Princesses and attempt to explain what transpired. Respected in Ponyville or not, if the Princesses believe there is wrongdoing at hand, they might be convinced to at least open an investigation.
Of course, given the nature of his assailant, the single best option for defense he has may be, in fact, a loaded pistol.
I'm not sure where we go from here, but this is going to be fascinating. I eagerly look forward to more.
4026455
She doesn't just have a shipping wall, she has shipping algorithms.
Defy her, Doc! YOU MUST!!! XD
Is she a changeling?
4031935
A full-grown pony stands between nine and a half to fourteen and a half hands at the withers. That's 38 inches (over 3 feet) to 58 inches (almost 5 feet). Above that range is the horse, and below that range is the miniature horse.
A small pony, like say a Shetland, weighs around 400 to 600 pounds. That's a little pony.
Well that just... that just... I am at a loss here. I normally respond to events like this with something like "well that just happened," but that feels insufficient to describe the sharp 90-degree turn into... I don't even know how to describe the sudden mood shift here. Intensity? Insanity?
4035730
No, although this story is written from the point of view of a biological determinist, I am not a biological determinist. The question is really an ethical one.
4035747
Fair enough, for the purposes of this story. Though how is the question an ethical one?
4026347 Judging from her goal and plans for attaining said goal, I'd say that she either already has or is currently in the throes of one.
4035851
Come over to my blog and ask the question again. I have a post up I think is relevant.
4036370
Addition: It's an ethical question for the reason you state: because we are talking about rational animals with volition, able to reason, to weigh choices, and to decide for one thing over another. Thus, their actions, unlike the actions of brutes, are morally relevant. They are not mere animals, but rational agents, and their acts cannot be described simply in terms of appetitive movements.
Come to my blog, though. I try to avoid debate subjects in my story comment boxes.
Well, this is certainly almost interesting. I like all the references to previous episodes like "Simple Ways", "Hearts and Hooves Day", and Equestria Girls. I liked the references to the MLP comics and interesting including the picture book "Under the Sparkling Sea". I thought the format was fascinating being as the notes that would have been a research paper on the subject and has all these endotes and stuff. But still you manage to work in the proper amount of 1st person prose from the perspective of the good doctor here. And the potential thing he may have going on with Lyra is intriguing. And the revelation of Lovestruck's megalomaniacal plan was quite a surprise. Anyway, this remains good enough for me to keep reading when there's more. Good work then.
4031951
Dang ponies are ffffat
Shut up and take all my bits!
It seems to me that Lovestruck is quite correct - given that the subjective experience is the same either way, romantic feelings generated through deliberate outside influence are no more or less valid than the same feelings produced through the vagaries of social interaction, physical attraction, and/or pheromone exposure.
One question I have, though, is why we have a date of 1767 CE. It may be that the author intends "CE" to mean an era after our own, but I think it's likely that the author knows that "CE" also means "Common Era," and it is commonly used in place of "AD" or "Anno Domini" to remove the implied deference to a particular religion. In other words, the date that the author gives would place the publication of the manuscript 9 years before the signing of the American Declaration of Independence - something I don't think the author meant to imply.
4026414 I agree, this certainly paints Equestria as a less than human-friendly world. Then again, the group of humans out pinning after mares aren't exactly our best representatives.
Holy crap, I have learned so many new words in just a few chapters. Ever time I ran in to a new word
Google was there to clear things up.
Huh, now that took a turn I wasn't expecting, though from the lead up to the visit with Lovestruck I suppose I should have been anticipating that something was going to go pear-shaped.
I never downvote a story without reason, and I never do it without letting the author know why. But, as you may have guessed, I did not care for this story.
My primary complaint is the peculiar choice of Humans in Equestria. Perhaps this is a style that you are most comfortable writing, but it doesn't appear to lend much importance to the story. Replace all occurrences of "Human" with "Griffon", and your story remains essentiually unchanged. So, I am at a loss to explain the existence of humans in this particular tale when they do not exist in standard canon Equestria.
Yes, I do see the tag. The tag does not exempt you from providing us a scaffolding upon which you may present to us "Humans!" as a reasonable (or at least rationalized) extrapolation of past events.
Secondary to that, but almost equal in importance, is the bipolar genre. You flip from scientific journal to kiss-and-tell memoir, and then back again. Several times, I find myself resenting the change in tone, and it breaks my concentration to the point where I lose any interest in reading further.
Finally, your characterization of Princess Twilight feels off-base. Her dialogue doesn't have any of her characteristic verbal tics or customary earnestness. She sounds flat, and acts petulant. I didn't believe that scene, and was unable to read beyond that.
I am sorry, but I am downvoting this story. It has significant flaws that, despite your obvious talent as an author, prevent your story from ever really getting off the ground.
Good luck with your future endeavors.
Hmmm... While the story is pretty well written, I do not care for it, for a variety of reasons I am not particularly interested in naming or discussing, no offense intended.
I won't downvote, since the story is not bad per se. I just don't agree with some aspects of it.
An interesting story in regards to premise, characterization and point of view. I few complaints, save that perhaps if Miss Lovestruck was so determined to take over Ponyville and was already planning to brainwash the good Doctor, then the logical thing to do would have been to do so immediately after he entered (perhaps using the pretense of taking his coat with her abilities) or when he was interviewing her where she took him once regardless. However she is a literal cackling villain who makes a point to explain her plan so the hero can stop it, so it may be the case that she was simply incapable of resisting her bond-villain instincts.
Still, someone who manipulates people at their most vulnerable and engages in mental alteration of such individuals towards her own agenda makes for a very effective villain. A despicable individual who has gained some power and decided it made them the ultimate authority on right and wrong, and that everyone else was stupid or evil. Really I do believe that the kind of person that repels others through their contemptuous superiority, particularly the ideological sort, is one that strikes a cord in most people, and draws emotional investment into a story very easily.
Well done. Save by increasing her competence there is little to complain about in regards to Miss Lovestruck. The main question now is, just how will the good Doctor convince Twilight to have Celestia or some other authority investigate his findings? Unless magic can pull memories directly from the mind for perfect evidence there would be no way to convict, or even formally charge Lovestruck considering that it would be his word against hers.
I am very interested in seeing just what will happen in the next chapter, so please continue with your efforts.
Have a nice day.
EpsilonWinter
Two stories of yours I have favorited.
Both "On-Hiatus"
Why u do dis 2 me?
I readed this after I saw it posted on ED...I'm still wainting to see how this continues.
4777685
Sorry about that. I used that screenshot for the eyecatch because she's making a dippy love face.
said the spider to the fly.
Lovestruck is a rather....interesting sort of villan, looking foward to see what will happen next.