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Suomibrony
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A My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic fan fic
By Suomibrony
Chapter 6
Experiments and Experiences
I was in a dream: alone, bored, and temporarily a mare with literally nowhere to go. What could I do? What else had I left to do than delve into that which very few males ever admit to having? My masculinity was protesting my idea of exploration. Since I wasn't outwardly a male in this lucid dream, though, what should masculinity matter? Why shouldn't I be free to enjoy the opportunities this body could grant me? No one would ever know of what I'd do here unless I told. If there was ever a ripe time and excuse to disregard gender guidelines, it was now.
I was that bored.
I drew in a wavering inhale, holding it in me as I rose to a sitting position, then expelled some of my quaking with an equally quaky exhale. I closed my eyes, head tilted down as I waited for my nerves to settle. I wasn't angry, afraid, or embarrassed, only unsure. I had to steel myself. I had to be brave. I'd have to be braver than a guy standing on a speeding car. Never done that, though, and would probably never dare to. Too risky. What was riskier than that? Several things were, but in here? I had nothing but myself. What could I do with myself? I had magic and a mare's body. Both of which I'd lose when my dream ended. What could I do with both? What could I do to myself?
Conjuring forth my magic, its mystifying presence immediately blanketed everything in a five-meter radius. I could "feel" the stones, patches of moss and lichen, numerous leaves, a dozen twigs of various length, and myself sitting in the middle.
Using my magic to read my surroundings wasn't the same as perceiving the world with my eyes; it was as if I was "feeling" the shapes and colors of objects in a short radius around me. With my magic's help, I could tell my mane and forelock were so detestably disheveled as to resemble a crashing, sidelong wave originating from my right ear. Along my neck was a hairy path of brown and pink scrunched to a compact mess, some jutting in every direction like wrinkly rags. In contrast, my tail was remarkably prim. I decided to correct the disparity.
Thinking I could simply use magic to fashion my mane into a presentable shape, I directed my invisible touch at myself; however, the attempt halted short of my body, as if I was attempting to force two identically charged magnets together. Undeterred, I located and levitated a sturdy twig towards myself, an indirect application of magic that met with success. The twig delved into the hairs along my neck and, with some difficulties at first, soon opened the hairy knots. With that part of my mane unfurled to hang down to my shoulder, the makeshift haircare tool proceeded up towards the top of my head where it untied more twined hairs and straightened twisted locks to the best of its ability. After a few more touches, the strong gale on my head was pacified to a moderate breeze.
My disembodied awareness panned around me, evaluating my looks. I would've provoked a high-class pony like Rarity to give me a disdainful eye, but at least I no longer looked like I had completely disregarded my coiffure. I evaluated my manestyle to be a mixture of Rainbow Dash's scruffiness and Twilight's . . . straightness? Though my forelock was too thick to adequately replicate the lean, curved, and finely cut awning she had suspended over her forehead. Not that I'd want to imitate her style; I'd almost found my own. I tried to look up at my shaggy bangs, but as soon as I opened my eyes, the magic ceased and the twig fell.
Alas, since handling hair with a gnarly twig couldn't hope to produce anything refined, I had to settle for the slightly-better-than-bedmane style. Regardless, the hair was no longer obscuring my vision, and even I could tell that its new appearance was an improvement.
Feeling vivacious, I turned my head to the side and lifted my foreleg to meet the back of my hoof with my chin. Smiling, I cast the immobile twig a half-lidded sidelong look. I tittered as I imagined my pose from a third-person perspective. I wasn't one hundred percent comfortable with what I was doing, but I was relieved I had mustered the courage for it. Would I ever have another chance at this? Probably not. I had already done a few minor excursions motivated by dire rather than desire. Now that I had crossed the threshold, it shouldn't be a giant leap to do it for my own amusement.
I planted my leg back on the ground and thought of something cute. I chose puppies and kittens. And cartoon ponies. And ferrets—that was original! With those in mind, I did my best to channel their cuteness into my ingratiating expression. With my head inclined and sporting a (hopefully) sweet smile, I rolled my eyes up and envisioned a person standing before me, his or her heart melting as they caught the sight of my irresistibly adorable poise.
They'd kneel down, and I'd keep my innocent eyes locked on theirs. Kind words would bring a blush to me, and I'd turn my head in modesty. Hands would reach for me, gentle cooing would carry to my ears, and I'd comply silently, permitting the nimble digits to gently caress my mane and body. Fingers would run along my hairs and slightly tickle my skin, soothing me. I'd enjoy the affection I had received, and everything would be at peace.
It was a delight forever left unfulfilled, I realized, when my vacant surroundings and untouched hide finally broke my daydream (in a dream) by their sheer passive presence. I sighed forlornly, my eyes downcast.
I glanced around with a modicum of longing. The cold walls around me and the impassive flora beyond the river gave a horrible sense of abandonment. Even the birds had quieted, and nothing but the sound of the wind was picked up by my ears. I might not have many friends, and on some days I never left my home, but I had never been truly alone before. I was constantly aware of being near another human, be it above, below, or outside, and I always had my cell phone nearby.
Not here, though. I had nothing but myself as company.
A small band began to coil itself tighter around my heart. It was the unpleasant feeling of complete loneliness. Had this imaginary realm now removed all life from it but me? Abandoned me on a desolate outcropping from where I dared not to escape? Could I brave my fear? Leave my prison? Risk waking myself up?
With great hesitation, I took myself to the edge of the gradient, but the sight of the stagnant river far below was brief, for my head became light, and I had to turn away as I released a weak moan of indisposition. Spotting a fairly sizable patch of moss, I rested down on it and tried to think of comforting things.
Some welcome peace came to me as I posited a busy road and town not too far away, the droning of their presence merely camouflaged by the dull wail of the wind. I further reasoned that I wasn't completely alone; I simply couldn't perceive another living being from my current location.
To my relief, a pair of small birds fluttered past me in an erratic aerial dance. The duo crossed my location in a span of seconds, soon followed by the low roar of a jet plane from somewhere far away. My ears were the first to align themselves at the distinctive sound, locking towards the left side of the pine forest on the horizon. I oriented myself at the origin of the sound as well, hoping to see the mechanical avian elegantly transit the sky. Disappointingly, its slender frame was entirely obscured by a blanket of gray. Judging by the sudden emergence of its distinguishable sound, I surmised the aircraft had recently departed from an airfield and was climbing up to cruising altitude. If this dream's geography was anything like the real world's, then I was roughly ten kilometers from my abode. I knew a smaller town was situated along the river about fifteen kilometers upriver from my home, which meant I would be about half of that distance from it now.
The jet plane's droning gradually vanished over the course of minutes, and I resumed striking a few more demure poses. I quickly began to long for a mirror.
If only I could brave my fear of water and, by some miracle, survive the plunge into the river without breaking out from my dream, then perhaps I could see my reflection in the water. The thought inspired me to picture a vivid scene.
Sitting on the river embankment, I'd admire my visage smiling in tranquil joy back at me, the setting sun's beams glistening on hair and water with captivating luster, mane neat and prim—a special gift for my birthday.
“Huh?” I snapped out from my odd reverie, hearing a voice call me by a name. I was left stunned, my brows wrinkling as confusion transitioned through disbelief to irritation.
“Oh, you,” I said, directing my glare skywards. “So that's the pony name you've assigned to me?” Of course, I wasn't entitled a response of any kind, so I gave up the pursuit. The name circulated inside my consciousness like an airplane on a holding pattern, and for a brief moment, I swore I saw it in my mind's eye, written on a card addressed to somepony. There was another name there, but my dream lord was courteous enough not to divulge it. Not that it mattered. It was yet another nonsensical memory. I know how those played out. In a normal dream, I'd fall for them in a heartbeat, but as I was aware of being in a dream, I saw past the unconvincing folly. Regardless, now I had a 'name', and it wasn't exactly the best name for me. On the positive side, I wouldn't have to reveal it, and it wasn't a gender-corrected version of my real name. Fortunately.
Disengaging from contemplating the abnormalities my dream imbued me with, I realized that I had time but no idea how to utilize it . . . until I recalled my lamentations concerning my telekinesis, and I hatched an idea on the spot. I hastily located the twig I had used recently.
“Test number one: have a direct visual on the twig and try to levitate it,” I stated with a hint of strictness; the displeasure of knowing my 'name' had yet to dissipate. As I expected, the twig remained grounded, my magic unwilling to manifest itself. I held a decaying glower on the twig as my mind dispelled its excess agitation.
“Test number two,” I said calmly, “try to levitate the twig without establishing a direct visual.” I performed a semi-circle, this time holding my eyes open as I focused on my magic. I "felt" a blanket of the magical touch radiate out to my immediate vicinity for a split second before wrapping itself around the twig. I knew where the twig was in advance, so perhaps that knowledge extended to my magic as well. My mane obscured the view of my horn, though I surmised it was coated in whiteness. The twig lifted off the ground without a trace of trouble, and I smiled in accomplishment. Initiating test number three, I carefully brought the twig closer to me. Its flightpath was set to cross overhead, and my magic constantly kept me appraised of the twig's approach.
I was prepared for the twig to fall the instant I had it in my view, but I hoped that I'd be able to retain my magical grip on it.
The twig, wrapped in a faint white glow, came into my view and immediately started to shake itself loose from my grasp.
“Comeoncomeoncomeonpleasepleasepleaseplease,” I pleaded frantically as the twig began to poke itself past its shimmering boundaries. I grunted in despair when the magic's tint began to flicker.
Right when I feared I had lost the battle, the tenuous aura brightened dramatically, and the twig's rebellion was quelled. My jaw wanted to dislodge at the sight as I stared at the pacified object.
I fixated on the suspended twig whilst I meticulously but cautiously restudied myself for clues about my magic. For a moment, I detected nothing, but soon I noted a minor tingling at the base of my horn. I had been so focused on using my blind method of telekinesis before that I hadn't thought on how it felt.
Delving deeper into my mind and nerves, I discovered that the power holding the twig was semi-independent of me. I controlled it, but the twig remained perfectly content inside its white wrapper even as my focus on maintaining the magic began to diminish as I contemplated it. Reducing my magic's intensity, the tingling and white glow gradually subsided until they faded completely, and the twig became an obedient follower of the laws of gravity once again.
I theorized that the brief slip of control I experienced as the twig entered into my field of vision was not a failing of my own, but instead, it was a sign of the twig transferring from one magical grip to another. Being a novice, I was unaware of this transition; any unicorn but me could've done it without breaking a sweat. I further speculated I had not one but at the least three discernible types of telekinetic powers: the 'blind' telekinesis, the localized bubble of 'visual' magic, and the most common and mundane one that I only now had learned to use. I wasn't sure if these abilities were standard or unique to my dream-self, though. All of this made me wish for a "Telekinesis For Dummies" book.
Based on the tingling at the base of my horn, I surmised that it didn't house my magic but instead behaved as a transmitter and amplifier for it. I had to direct my inner energy to travel into the horn, and from there, it would pretty much do the rest for me. Hopefully, concentrating my energy into and through my horn to wield the twig whilst it was within my field of vision would be no different from the blind magic I had become used to. I knew some form of concentration was required to maintain the controlling glow on the target, but once my grip on the lightweight twig was secure, I had to reduce the energy to near nothing for the twig to fall free. It was quite the contrast to the difficulty of achieving the hold on it in the first place. If the opportunity would present itself, I'd gladly run additional telekinesis tests on multiple objects of varying size and mass.
With chary expectation, I set my eyes on the twig again, this time not directing my will outwardly, but inwardly. It wasn't about me wanting to levitate something; it was about wanting my magic to levitate something for me.
I predicted a new struggle, but instead, I gawked in astonishment as the twig was more than willing to follow my command. The tingling in my forehead was faint, but the joy I held wasn't. In high spirits, I began to experiment with the twig. First, I tested my magic's range by levitating the twig upwards. It reached a strange border a dozen meters above me, where it then bounced gently up and down like a cork in water. I set the twig to orbit around me on a horizontal plane. Starting as a wavy and eccentric ellipsoid, it evened to a flat circle after a dozen revolutions as I became more adept at controlling the most common form of telekinesis.
Pleased by my improved skills, I brought the twig to hover before myself. Curious, I directed my hoof into the white aura, though it caused no discernible reaction. Watching my limb attempt to interact with the sparkling glow a few more times with no success, I pondered if the mystifying layer was composed of ionized gas.
Following a few more minutes of additional playing and practicing, I had honed my telekinesis to work without a hitch. “Hard to execute, easy to master.” I proclaimed proudly.
In respect for the twig, I granted it a mossy mattress as a reward. Once placed on its humble bed, I sat down and bowed gracefully to the inorganic assistant, then looked at my flank in anticipation.
“Oh, what a dreadful shame; I didn't receive a telekinesis cutie mark,” I said in mock disappointment. “But, really, what would a telekinesis cutie mark look like, anyhow?” I wondered, glancing at the twig quizzically. Smirking playfully, I leaned in very close to it and pouted.
“Aww, liwl' twiggy is so sweepy he can't answer my liwl' question,” I cooed, fighting to keep my lips from drawing to a smile. My composure fell no more than a second after my 'liwl' display, and an exuberant laugh earned its liberty. Instantly, I clasped my mouth shut with my forehooves, blinking in shocked disbelief as I slowly withdrew my limbs.
“Wow,” I said, my embarrassment affecting my countenance and tone. “That was unusual . . . not . . . like mine . . .” I looked around with flustered eyes, hoping my conduct hadn't been exposed to more than my pair of ears.
“Oh-kay, nopony but me here, so all is well.” I reassured my unnerved and abashed self after my visual sweep confirmed my solitude. ‘Just my typical laugh altered in pitch.’ I swiped the issue under the rug then summarily moved back to the topic of cutie marks.
I wonder if I would love carrying and manipulating things with my sixth sense so much that it'd manifest on my flanks as a cutie mark? Strangely, deep inside, I felt a longing for a cutie mark, but I dismissed that as another of my dream's ludicrous jests. Still, the capability of employing telekinesis in reality was something I would have certainly enjoyed having. Really, who wouldn't? It would be totally awesome!
However, if I had become a pegasus instead of a unicorn, I wouldn't be confined to this dismal rocky formation in the first place; I would've flown away a long time ago! Although, with how much effort it took to learn to use my magic, I might've crashed back to the soil the moment I had tried to fly. The Super Mario Bros. game over tune would have played, and I'd woken up in my bed, angry and disappointed at myself for being so eager to fly that I had forgone testing my wings in the safe environment of my home.
Feeling boredom settle in again, I was about to attempt a new pose when something hit me. Just a little tap at the end of my muzzle. Soon came another tiny tap on my back, then another, as well as several tiny taps around me. A quick glance at my general area revealed small discolorations on the rock, with more appearing every passing second.
“Rain?” I presented and answered my question simultaneously. I gazed skywards with incredulity and received more confirmation in the form of water landing on my lips. In no dream that I knew of had it ever rained.
A mischievous drop fell into my eye and I grunted, turning my head down. I lifted my limb to rub at the stricken photoreceptor, but the appearance of a hard extremity before my unharmed eye made me abort the instinctive action. Resourcefully, I discovered a softer area behind my hoof and used that to treat my closed eye instead. 'Pastern'—that word throbbed in my head as I gazed at my . . . pastern. Funny how the mind digests concepts and words unconsciously, then spits them out at a whim. My headache still throbbed, although it had subsided greatly by now.
In regard to the natural phenomenon, my coat would provide protection from the chilly autumn rain, but for how long? What would happen once my coat's integrity was compromised? Under normal circumstances—as ridiculous as that sounded—I'd begin to freeze; however, this being a dream, I had no idea if it applied here as well. I guess only time could tell.
Under the belief that minimizing contact with open air and the rain would reduce the feeling of the theorized loss of warmth, I lay prone on my mossy mattress. To further ensure my body heat would be contained, I pulled my legs close to my body. Then I waited, and waited, and waited.
The light drizzle turned to a heavier downpour, and the world became darker. My forelock, heavy from the water, drooped over my eyes.
I waited some more. What else could I do?
The consistent bombardment eventually whittled down my coat's defenses, and the cold water began to withdraw body heat from me. My fascination with experiencing rain in a dream wore off entirely.
“I'd appreciate a team of weather pegasi about now,” I hoped half-jokingly, wiping my drenched forelock out of my face. I had begun to shiver, and I became concerned that I'd truly wake up if this discomfort became severe. I speculated that I had kicked off my blanket in my sleep, and the resulting loss of the warm pocket of air was now being reflected in my dream.
“Okay, you can cancel the rain now,” I complained to my disassociated side. “It's not funny, and I mean it. Those odd memories and the things you made me say, somepony and the likes, they were within acceptable limits, but you're seriously pushing your luck now.”
A cranial knock to the rock would beam me out from this dream. Leaping down into the river would garner the same result. The gradients were impossible to climb, at least for a pony. My only feasible option was to wait.
“So, what's the fun in this?” I dourly asked my overlording subconscious, who had beset me with the dissatisfactory conditions of my limited playing field and this troublesome precipitation. “I'm freezing here. Get that? Freezing. Trembling. In a dream. Are you trying to prove a point with this? Because if you are, it's entirely lost on me. Or is this retribution for my calling you a jerk? For your information, I don't regret that remark.”
My forelock continued to soak up water and slipped back over my eyes. I felt as if I was enveloped in a freezing, irremovable, waterlogged, and encompassing rug. The coldness bore into my bones like drills made of ice. I wasn't in pain, but my discomfort was extreme, and I had no way to alleviate it. I felt absolutely awful, and I wouldn't allow it to last for a minute longer. I had to do something.
I fumbled with my forehooves to push my soaked hair out of my vision. Hooves being hooves, and the hair being more soaked than before, my shivering and bad mood further compounded on me, and I found it troublesome to displace the bangs. After a few poor attempts, I groaned in exasperation and tossed my head up. My forelock folded haphazardly onto my head, and I had a clear vision of the world again. I possessed a fury that mixed into my trembling but gave me no warmth. What it did give me was absolute bravado.
“That's it!” I shot up onto my legs, yelling at the sky. “I've had enough! I wouldn't think it would come to this, but I! Am! Leaving!” I emphasized my message with fierce hoof stomps. Peering at the darkened realm, I saw the contours of the river. Fueled by seething determination, I began to propel myself towards the body of water. I was actually galloping, but I paid little attention to how I was managing it. My fears had been quelled by the burst of rage, and I launched myself over the precipice. As soon as my legs left the solid ground, my rational side reasserted its place in my consciousness, and my fury dimmed.
Regret. Sadness. That was what I felt. So many things I still desired to experience. It had been, despite all the problems and hardships, a very fascinating journey. I wish it hadn't ended like this. My gallop hadn't even been all that impressive; I'd barely managed to clear the edge of the embankment with my leap.
A splash—everything became dark and all sounds were muted. I was floating with nothing under my hooves and feeling unusually peaceful. The water was chilly and surrounded me on all sides, but I wasn't trembling anymore. I held my breath, waiting to be thrown out from . . . wait? Oh no!
Instinctively, I began to push water with my limbs. I had no idea how to swim as a pony, and that only made my fear grow more severe. I had to find the surface, the bottom, anything in the lightless void that I could use to regain my bearings. The little oxygen I had stored in my lungs was depleting at an alarming rate. Bubbles were flowing out from my nostrils as my diaphragm began to relax, and I was afraid that my dream was getting the last laugh by forcing me to suffer a very authentic drowning. My heart was racing and my mind was consumed by fear, but I wasn't waking up! If I hadn't been underwater, I would have screamed in horror.
I was spinning in every direction when my hind hooves finally touched something hard. Instilling a speck of rational thought, I brought my second set of hooves onto the solid boundary; then, I launched myself in the opposite direction from what I sincerely hoped was the river floor. As I journeyed through the liquid, my throat convulsed for a split second, and I breathed a small amount of water.
A strange warmth and peace descended into me. My scared heart joined the tranquility, and I ceased my struggling. Maybe drowning wouldn't be as bad as I had feared it to be. How about that?
Air. I breathed air; my head had popped above the surface, and my instincts did their task valiantly. I coughed water, frantically pumping my legs in a dire attempt to keep me from slipping back underneath the rippling river. My forelock had again fallen to obstruct my vision; a brisk shake took care of that issue.
The opposite river bank was perhaps two dozen meters away, not tall and not too steep, laced with moderately-sized rocks and exposed soil—definitely climbable. My paddling soon found a rhythm, and it became easier to swim, but I gave it no thought. My goal was simple, and my eyes were locked on the inviting safety of rocks and grass. As I neared the boundary of water and earth, my bliss became stronger, ushering my fear of water to the sidelines.
“I can't believe it!” I said, laughing. “I can't believe I made it!” My hooves touched the soft soil a few meters before the shore. “I survived the fall!” My swimming transitioned to a lively gait. “A second chance at my dream!” I planted my legs on the earthen gradient and began to ascend the moderate slope. “It's so unbelievable, I could just cheer to my heart's content!” I reached a rock just beneath a protruding part of the meadow and lunged up to plant my forelegs on it. “I think I'll actually do that once I- WHOA!”
The brittle soil I had placed my forelegs on crumbled as I placed my weight upon it, leading me to slip off my legs . . .
“Oooff!”
. . . and slam hard onto a large rock, knocking the wind out of me. With my balance lost, I tumbled back down into the river, where I lay resting sideways and partially submerged. Dazedly, I picked myself up and trudged up to the meadow.
“Ah-oww,” I moaned as I came to a secure stop on the grass, my wits coming back along with an unpleasant sensation on my barrel. “I hope I didn't break a rib,” I continued as I timorously twisted and arched my back, trying to diagnose my pain. When I didn't feel anything poke at my skin or innards, I surmised I had sustained nothing worse than a nasty bruise.
Before I could retrieve my joy, something dreadfully alarming dawned on me. I had felt pain. Not discomfort, but pain. Authentic pain! If that . . . then . . . I . . . No! It couldn't be! It was impossible! This was supposed to be impossible! I . . . It . . . No . . . Oh no . . . Oh no! NO! I couldn't lose it!
“Come on! I can deal with this!” I began to reassure myself in desperation. “Just because this is real doesn't mean it's permanent! I can't think like that! This could be over in a few hours!” My voice began to fade in tandem with my declining hope. “Or a couple days, or in a week . . . a month . . . a year . . . never be over . . .” I trailed off, and an unimaginable bleakness enveloped my mind. Every bone, nerve, and tissue turned against me. I didn't want them! I didn't want to be in this body! I wanted out! I had to escape! Run! Flee! HELP!
“No! I can't panic! It doesn't solve anything! I can't escape this no matter how hard I try! I just have . . .” My voice began to shatter. “To accept it . . . consider the worst . . . could be . . . forever . . .” I whimpered and . . . and . . . I feared so horribly. The panic, I was succumbing to it . . . NO! I couldn't allow it to win!
“I refuse to submit! I won't panic!” I yelled, my voice wavering in terror. My eyes were layered with tears and my entire being was shaking, but behind it all, I was fighting tooth and nail. “I can calm myself! Be rational! Fight it! I can fight the panic! Defeat it! Crush it! Eradicate it!” Defiance began to crease my lips into a fierce grin. “Yes! I can fight this! I can win! I won't lose to the pitiful panic! Ha-ha! I laugh in its face! I won't take this lying down! I will prevail! I'm a strong girl! I can- What the hay!”
I froze. I had called mys- . . . It made no sense! It made no sense! I . . . I couldn't breathe . . .
I HAD TO ESCAPE!
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!”
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Image: http://i.imgur.com/A7vbG.jpgA brand new chapter is finally here!
You go, Girl.
I also want to add that the illustrations are wonderful, and the flow of the story just keeps getting better. I was not altogether pleased with the violent interaction with the human earlier, you seem to be at your most interesting when detailing the little feelings and sensations. You have little need of conflict in this story, in my mind, because you already have drama and fascination enough with the basic situation to last almost any length.
The experience here, I think, is the story, and it is indeed compelling.
Was that aimed at me or the protagonist? 
EDIT: your opening line, I mean.
I realize that the drama with the guy was perhaps not quite well constructed and conjured as I hoped it to be, and I also hope that I learned a thing or two from it. However, it must be understood that the stress was overwhelming for the protagonist and she (unjustly) vented it on the guy. It happens daily, you know. Things go sour at work and you might find yourself shouting obscenities at a bus that happens to occupy your lane when you're driving back home.
At any rate, I know my strength seems to be set in describing the protagonist's thoughts and actions instead of interactions with other characters. The protagonist meeting other people is unavoidable, and I wish that I, the author, won't mess up when she does.
But yes, you're correct; the true conflict is with the protagonist herself, especially now that her belief of sojourning in a vivid fantasy has finally been shattered at the end of the latest chapter.
Also, feel free to thank paper pony for the beautiful art. He is simply amazing at what he does.
Is it not incredible? The horribly long wait is over, and we are all happy! I'm glad people like this story, and I sincerely hope to bring a new quality chapter sooner next time. I'm sure we're all riveted on how the MC copes with herself now.
Yes, the protagonist was indeed doing quite well until that little deviation. She was arduously and valiantly combating a panic attack, but then she suffers the mother of all slip-ups which sent her firmly into panic mode. That little word she said was a precision bunker buster into his male ego, not only because she called "himself" a girl, but a strong girl. Strength is in the main character's mind a masculine trait. and that was essentially genderflipped with a single word. Thus, a devastating blow was dealt on the protagonit's malehood and rationality.
Anyhow, the enthralling illustrations are by paper pony, and words truly fall short on expressing my gratitude 
. It's truly remarkable how much illustrations can enhance a story.
Seeing this one character going through so much mental stress, panic, and pain is very intriguing. She has somehow kept herself sane long enough for her to realise she's not in a dream. Then, she conquered that panic attack, but brought on another when she called herself "a strong girl." bloody brilliant; bravo, Sir. I'm chomping at the bit for the next chapter.
I think she looks cute with that key on her neck
It's great how you come up with these things, i mean like this chapter was almost stationary and scene didn't change. But there was still so much action and thinking in it.
Something is bothering me ---> what took you so long? Answer ihan miten haluat (it's easier for me in finnish)
But you do have to admit the illustrations are of excellent quality and improve the story exceptionally.
Yes, she had remained sane because she had effectively convinced herself (or deluded herself to believe) she was dreaming. Simply put, she thinks transformation is plain impossible, and the only way she could be a filly was through a very realistic lucid dream. Since she considers a such experience to be a highly improbable once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, she clings onto the supposed fantasy even when she is both angered and saddened of being a feminine looking and sounding filly, stressed by involuntary ponyisms, and horrified by a few slip-ups and memories implying she's been a female pony for much longer than a few hours. Anyhow, the most feasible way for her to end the dream is through pain. When she finally injured herself and didn't wake up, her illusion of being in a dream was broken for good with uttely devastating effects. With the realization that she truly is in the shape of a filly without any clue on how to change back to a guy, she starts to lose it. Personally I think any person would panic in a such situation. In spite of the terrifying situation she strived to be rational and attempted to calm herself, but then she snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.
Mental fortitude destroyed; total panic commences.
Such a perfect way to ruin that "strong guy" image, too. Oh, I'm such a Discord! *evil chuckle*
Anyway, I wish to bring the next chapter sooner. I really do.
It's a bit peculiar, too. She thinks she's in a dream, yet takes her home key with her as if she'd actually return to her home. Now that she's not in a dream, the key potentially serves a real purpose.
True. The cliff scene didn't change much at all, I know; however, consider that the first three chapters were confined to her own home. She contemplates her (presumably temporary) existence as a filly, and in a way, her cogitations about it is the adventure in this story. Why have action following action and travel over great distances when suddenly being a female equine presents a much more fascinating journey than a typical action-filled quest could offer?
Anyway, why did this take so long? Esilukijalla oli kiireitä, ja enkä ollut kirjoittanut sitä taiantutkintaosuutta kovin hyvin alkujaankaan. Sen korjaaminen ja selventäminen söi aikaa. Toivottavasti seitsemäs kappale ei ole yhtä vaivallollinen eikä siten julkaisuaika ole kahden kuukauden päässä.
Yeah, many may've though she'd do something... intrusive to herself, but then she doesn't commence what a typical male would do with a female body, but presented a sensual side instead. Notice her acting out a fantasy of being caressed affectionately? What does that tell you? To me it tellssShe wanted to explore "his" feminine side and that was the result.
I'm glad you enjoy First Pony View adn paper pony's magnificent art . Again, I repeat myself when I say that hopefully chapter seven wont be two months away.
You know, I never understood why people think it's impossible to feel pain in a dream, or that it will wake them up if they do. I've had some pretty painful dreams before, and I didn't snap awake the instant the feeling appeared.
Anyway, that's kind of irrelevant. I'm curious if the main character is ever going to figure out what's really going on, or if it'll just be an unanswerable mystery to deal with as best as possible.
Personally I have never felt pain in a dream. When something painful has occurred to me (such as being stabbed), I've woken up instantly. Fortunately, very few of my dreams had made me the recipient of something painfully harmful. Anyway, I took my few experiences of "pain in dream equals end of dream" and applied them to the protagonist's mindset.
As for the protagonist finding out why he's become a filly, well... maybe she will find out, maybe she won't. One good way to break a character's mind is to never tell the why and how something extremely extraordinary has befallen them.
Reality itself can be much more cruel, inconsoling and unforgiving than a nightmare could ever hope to be. I'm certain the protagonist will know that, and I'm also certain the longer mane will be the least troubling feature of her new form.
Neither did I get the impression that you were understating reality's harshness; I fully understood what you meant. Anyhow, in the protagonist's case, reality meant she has transformed into a filly for real. What a harsh truth that is, to say the least. Consider that when she was under the belief of being in a dream, she basically equated it to be much like a video game. In a video game one can be scared when bullets whizz past like a horizontal rain and explosions are turning the environment into a fair emulation of lunar landscape. It's not real though, and neither is the fear, because, hey, a video game is fundamentally unrealistic. Can't be turly scared of something that can be dismissed with the press of a button. The player is always aware there's a piece of plastic in their hands that manipulates the intricate mosaic of pixels on the screen. A 120 high explosive shell meets the face and after a curse word or two from the player, the character is thrown back in time to be rematerialized at the last autosave. But if it were truly real, just a minute in the center of the battle would be the signal for the mouth to cry for the distaff parent and the other end to dispose its refuse without conscious prompt.
Yeah, so the "video game" just ended for the protagonist and stuff got very real. Sorry, Miss Protagonist, but there's no quit game option in the pause menu, because there's no pause menu to begin with. Of course, the power button exists, but it's a one-time use only, and it turns off the vitals.
Might wonder if she's tempted to go for it . . .
Somehow I doubt that suicide would even come up as a rational option for our Hiro, Miss Protagonist. She's had her self-identity destroyed and is now in a new world. While accepting her new reality might be, in some ways, giving up, suicide is giving up absolutely everything and admitting an absolute inability to deal with anything that this situation has thrown at her. And since it's not a dream, she would not wake up afterwards.
Who says she'd be rational after her breakdown, or during it for that matter? Overwhelmed with stress and horror that unquestionably impair any form logical thinking, she's liable to perform something poorly conceived in a dire need to flee from the unbearable reality. Afterall, her mind is now trapped in a body she doesn't any longer desire to have.
Do observe that she didn't say that she truly had the body of a filly, but called "himself" a girl during what was arguably her (or his) frailest moment. Huge difference. Her self-identity is most likely damaged now and will fall apart entirely -- or try to regain its integrity -- but prior to her panic it had been slowly eroding. Having herself tell how far that had progressed came when it was most inopportune for her, and it wasn't a thought-out acknowledgement, but an involuntary lapse. Again, huge difference.
And so, another 10 chapters go by before we discover that it actually was just a dream after all... Troll of the century! 
As the chapter unfolded, I was honestly surprised to discover that "experimentation" could even mean something other than, well, y'know... 
Then again, if he was going to do... stuff... I guess he would have done it before leaving the house.
I think it's fair to say it's anything but a dream for the protagonist now.
Anyhow, the experimentation was a perhaps an unexpected twist on what people would expect a male with a female's body to do. Sexy time with oneself, right? Well, no. He uncovered that feminine side, and then that feminine side wanted to express adorability and sensuality, not be the primary target of a male psyche's needs for primitive pleasure.
Although the personal experiences and thoughts and minor details appear to be your strong suit, I would just like to say that I eagerly anticipate the point at which she will have be interact with another character, perhaps the neighbor. That should be interesting indeed.
I like where this is going, and patiently await the next installment.
I have no plans to forget the nieghbor. The protagonist and he will meet again. Why and how? That's left unsaid at this moment.
Regardless, she'll have to interact with other individuals before that, and I hope that when she does, it'llbe believable; I'm still not quite satisfied in how the neighbor incident played out. Nonetheless, I wish to trust that I've refined my abilities to adequately produce a scene that involves the protagonist and another character interacting.
you can feel pain in a dream. once in a dream i had i crushed my hand. i felt the worst pain ever. and i didnt wake up from the dream.not saying he could still be in a dream just saying you can feel pain in a dream.great fanfic best one of them all. i have to get mic the microphone to read this.WHO WANTS TO HELP?publicity is just what this needs. theres so many memes that this could start. everyone go to mic the microphone channel and make him read this!GO! lets make another fanfic famous!
Doesn't matter to the protagonist whether pain can be felt in a dream or not. To him, feeling pain equals the dream ends, and in this case, the dream has ended in a very bad way for him, because now he's (physiologically at least) a she.
Anyhow, I'm glad you enjoy this story. Mentioning mic the microphone failed to ring any clear bells in my head, so now I have to do some Google magic to educate myself when time is avaliable 
.
I love this. This deep psychological view of how a relatively plain person from Earth would react is just gold. It just seems like many humans turned into ponies fictions tend to gloss over this fascinating, yet complicated subject. Indeed, it is a very complex art to coax words into actually describing the thoughts and emotions of your character in such a compelling manner that you manage to achieve. Good on you sir, I'll be watching you closely.
>>349729 oh yes
oh and uh do you no read? i said it only pertained to the story from the pain part i wasnt saying it was a dream still. oh and remember that stupid comment i wrote? what i meant was like talking to your inner-self the one that causes habbits and saves memorys. i talk to my inner-self every day. even in dream land! its actually pretty fun. and no im not psycho. i just talk to myself. in a funny way. but anyway "what if he talked to his inner-self?that would be funny." is what i meant in that comment.
you know what i just though it would be funny if he took a pencil and levatated it so he can use the computer and went to chatroulette or bloged on equestria daily thats what i woud do if that happen to me.
two bronys were on Chatroulette when:
brony 1: hey look its a pony!
brony 2: WHAT?!?REALLY?!?
MC:hi
both:HOLY CRAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I don't really read fanfiction so I'm not qualified to compare and contrast with other examples. I started reading this one more or less on a whim after seeing some of the art for it online and it's been really good.
A few things, I've never really experienced pain in a dream. But the one time I did (was hit by blinding white light in the dream) I woke up and my eyes hurt and I was seeing spots. Was really weird.
First chapter seemed to be plagued with Purple Prose just a bit but you've really hit your stride after the first couple chapters. I'm really looking foreward to seeing what happens next.
Don't watch too closely; I prefer some personal space
Anyhow, yes, it's very true that too many stories dedicate little effort into describing a person's adaptation to a new body. FPV apparently has one chapter and a half almost exclusively detailing a person adjusting to being a auqadruped with a horn on their head, not to mention tolerating being a filly. I've probably stated over and over how one can't simply shrug off the radical change from a primate to equid, and I think FPV demonstrates how difficult it is even if the person possesses a somewhat amenable mentality. Of course, now that stance has been broken . . .
That reminds me that unlike many stories where the first person narrator appears to be in control of their faculties at all times – which most of the time seems to contrast with their actions – I strive to do my utmost to present a direct look into the protagonist's state of mind. When he panics, it's not a fundamentally clear but dissatisfying "I then panicked and ran aimlessly like a headless chicken, heart pounding so hard I thought it would crack my ribs". That would come off as too collected, too distanced from the character itself. Instead of that, we see the protagonist (who is the narrator) lose his rationality as the situation he endures begins to overpower him. This is exemplified at the end of chapter six when he quite literally cries for help in his mind and the fligth instinct soon after takes over. Since the narrator and protagonist are the same, I can't have the protagonist descend into blind panic whereas the narrator retains a seemingly calm attitude. It would turn the narrator into a separate observer! No, the narrator is integrated with the protagonist, and I reiterate: the narrator and protagonist are the same.
Okay, so you talk to yourself, and you mean that the protagonist would do the same? Well, he has already. Being alone on a cliff as a filly can perhaps crook one's sanity to cause some conversations with oneself to arise.
And then the following night some guys in black armor armed with tranquilizer guns would smash down your door and haul you to a clandestine location whereupon you'd be a most exotic test subject for whatever experiment they'd wish you to endure.
Have fun!
Did you find this story through paper pony's DeviantArt gallery? Apart from this story itself I'm clueless as to where else the art is featured.
I don't know what to say to that dream experience. I've had a few where I've fallen into my bed, but nothing has ever occured that'd impress me with a semblance of injury or pain. My dreams are usually violence-free, and if any violence takes place, it's rarely directed at my being. When it is, I wake up before or right as the injury is inflicted. Never have I had a wound on me in my dreams. Not even disabled or ill. Perfect health practically all the time.
The first chapter is undoubtedly lacking due to the amateurish skills I had when I started writing FPV. Alas, the attempt to compensate for my deficiencies in any way I could lead to patches of purple prose. Hopefully I have vastly improved my literature crafting skills since that poor beginning. However, perhaps the first chapter could also show the protagonist displaying a rather casual attitude while he was under the impression of being a stallion? Was that the closest we saw of his male human personality before it dawned to him that he was a filly and that body started to affect him? In fact, at what moment may we presume the protagonist to have displayed obviously feminine behavior?
Anyhow, it's sincerely pleasant to reply to the comments this story receives 
Yup~ That's where.
Perhaps. Even plagued by patches of purple prose it proffered a tale with plenty of promise.
Added Alliterative Appeal anyone?
But yeah, first chapter was pretty good, then you seemed to hit your stride and it's just been getting better and better from there. It isn't unusual to read sequential works by published authors and see the quality of the story spinning go up as the series continues, even if its not their first book series. You just sort of find the groove for a certain story and it takes off.
That's very nice 
, even when the image paper pony has on show spoils the first and perhaps most crucial twist of FPV. I won't hold it against him though since he asked and received my permission to upload any art he desired. Not that he'd need to; it's his art and is therefore free to do whatever he wants with it. 
Again, I'm pleased that you find FPV captivating despite the rough beginning. I think that it was perhaps not only until the fourth chapter when I started to get a honestly formidable grip on how to properly handle this whole writing business 
What, you mean if I'd talk to myself i'd receive a reply from myself?
I must test this! 
*ahem* Do I get an answer if I ask myself a question?
No, you don't.
Okie dokie lokie! 
. . . 
Hey, wait? 
Haha, I trolled you!
Nuh-uh! I trolled myself! 
. . . huh? 
Bwaaah-Hahaha!
slash psycho twilight on them! hell id bake them into cupcakes if i knew how!
I'd think it'd be pretty hard to go ballistic on your captors when you're incapacitated, and once awake the best you can do is use telekinesis on whatever locking mechanism they have for your cage. I mean, I won't say you can't do anything to aid yourself with that power, but I'm confident that you'd be in deep sh...ludge once outside your confinement. Guards with guns and yourself essentially now an alien being on the run. Honestly, if you were to really wake up one morning as a unicorn filly in our world, you'd probably plan to live far away from any civilization and live off the nature if you're smart and wish to survive. Or if you aren't, cry in a fetal position in your home until you're discovered. If you'd go broadcasting your new form in public, I'm fairly sure you'd be either stupid or crazy. Or both.
Oh well. Your life; your choices.
SPOILERS:
I'd argue that the twist isn't the change, but the question of whether or not it's real. Even the title, First Pony View, risks spoiling the big transformational reveal. You'd pretty much have to be dropped into the first chapter blind to be sure the suddenly a pony angle wasn't spoiled.
End Spoiler
If I were in the shoes of our protagonist, my reaction would probably be something along the lines of: "Oh Cool! Oh-Crud." "I'm going to need some help." Then trying to get ahold of some family. At least once I was sure of the reality of the situation. Like, right now SPOILERS: He or She if you prefer, is stuck in the middle of nowhere after being half drowned. I'd try finding a telephone and admitting I'm out of my league. "Hey, Donna, yeah it's CaptRory, I know my voice is weird. I have a big problem, get one of the guys to bring the van and some towels to XYZ. I'll explain when you get here."End Spoiler
>>353175 truthfully if this really happened to me id just live my life normally. wouldnt it be funny for a pony to take your order at McDonalds? And besides i know plenty of bronys that would protect a pony that looks like it came from MLP:FIM from the FBI or the CIA. so id think id be fine if this happened to me.
A story based around the rights of the individual changed into a pony vs. the government trying to stick them in a lab would be interesting.
"I am a man! And I will not comply! I demand to be treated with respect! I will not give up my individual rights to the collective!" That could be extremely powerful writing.
Lets see how you go on about with your life if you woke up as an earth pony, and assuming that the gang of bronies you have would be able to thwart a well-armed team of trained specialists like it was an 80's action move, then sure, maybe you'd be fine.
Anyway, toy with the thought a bit. You, one morning, in your bed, and with hooves and no horn and no wings, perhaps no horn down there either. Well, now lets think that you won't be kidnapped by some morally debased people and can live as a pony in relative safety. What'd you do? No hands means no video games, no driving, no bicycling. Pretty much everything that requires the deft usage of hands would be beyond your capabilites. Then, of course, you'd have to accept that meat is a no-no for you. No problem if you already are a vegetarian or a vegan. If you loved cheeseburgers, well, soya can replicate the taste of beef quite well, I hear.
Finally, if the change flipped your sex . . . well, I leave that to your imagination. I'm sure the response we'll get is fascinating, No really, I wish to hear a well-thought out reply that explores every conceivable scenario of you waking up as an earth pony mare. Or unicorn or pegasus mare, if that's more of your style. If you say alicorn, I will name a potato after you and boil it whole the next time I prepare soup for myself!
However, that's an idea worth pondering. Do we have a fan fic here that explores the righteous struggle for equality, respect and security of a man turned pony in a world where he now is the sole representative of the pony species? Would he conquer the hearts of the general populace and triumph over the sinister agendas of the governments of Earth? Would he be forced to remain hidden, and have his life be throttled coldly by the very hands that belonged to his own kin, perhaps by the hands of whom he loved. Would the regal princesses themselves intervene and harshly lecture the humans on their rampant hatred, cruelty and irrational fear of those who are different before inviting the former human to the safety of Equestria? Or would the ponies come not as his savior, but as his army, who then woouldn't persuade the minds of the humans to their side, but vanquish them as inherently inferior beings unworthy to live on their own planet?
Oh, the possibilities are endless.
I think the reveal is not that he is a pony, but a filly. The notion of him being in a dream is his conclusion, whereas the audience won't be so easily convinced, I gather.
That estimation of you in the protagonist's situation was despite its brevity quite interesting. One thing I would've done long before going outside would've been to check the Internet and see if it was the day after the previous, then further check more intricate details of both my home and the web, thus probably confirming that I wasn't dreaming. I'd then spend the day researching the online world if there was anything pertaining to humans inexplicably turning into ponies elsewhere, and I would remain indoors to minimize exposure of my form to the public for as long as the matter of other ponies existing was unverified. If I was in the situation where the chapter six ended, I would've probably suffered a breakdown, but instead of a panic, the suspicion of having become a female pony in mind may lead to an overloading of my brain and a subsequent fainting. Also, assuming I was in another universe, I'd most likely find my way to civilization after waking up, but I'd be wary to call my family or friends on the basis that a me might already exist. It'd create an awkward but shocking meeting without doubt when a filly and human would both share same the same personality and memories. Or would we?
In whose home did I wake up in if the human me doesn't live there? Oh crud! I think I'd hear the core aspects of my identity crumbling,
Now that is interesting. You really expanded on the first thought I had there.
Well, that's presuming you had the ability to even operate a computer at that point. It took a good while to just work out the telekinesis thing. Which assumes you have it to begin with. Try operating a mouse as an earth pony, at least you can hold a pencil in your mouth for the keyboard.
But yeah, I'm not shy about going "Yeah, I'm out of my league here and need some help." I'd rather get some help up front then waste a lot of time and effort screwing up or being totally ineffective. Next time I have to do something I'll have experience you know? In this case, secrecy may be important, but not if you end up in worse trouble because you tried to do it all on your own. You're in a much stronger position in your own apartment proving your identity than trying to convince someone on a payphone to come to your rescue.
I can always assume I'd follow the same steps as the protagonist in learning telekinesis. He himself, however, was under the belief of soourning in a finite dream and dismissed the further exploration of telekinesis in a desire to explore the world as a pony. Anyhow, I believe I'd have to attain some mastery of telekinesis before I'd be able to use a computer, though I guess the clumsy application of a hoof on a mouse and a pencil in mouth for the keyboard would have to suffice if telekinesis remained rebellious.
Nevertheless, I'd be extremely reluctant to leave my home if I knew I was a pastel pony, let alone anyone else know it. I'd be hard pressed to even tell about it to my parents or friends. The less people know of my predicament, the smaller the chance it becomes public. I admit that keeping myself hidden sounds to be the safest choice, but I also realize that it can come to bite me in the end if I mess up. Similarly, calling for help from those I wish to trust can lead to unforeseen consequences which I'd have no control over.
>>353509 Hiding is a terrible idea. It would insure that only a few people would end up knowing about you and able to do anything if you were abducted by the government. They would be declared insane, or committed by the very people who kidnapped you to an asylum. That is why that if I woke up, gender-bended, as an earth pony, I would collect my thoughts, or cry a little in the corner whatever makes me feel better. Then I would proceed to get basic coordination down pat (though this might take several days), soon after running (cantering? galloping?) out my door talking to whomever I met, then run into the busiest street I could find, possibly screaming at the top of my lungs (though this may prove to be unnecessary considering that a walking talking equine is not something common to our world and is sure to gather attention anyway), to insure that there is evidence of my existence posted everywhere on Facebook, twitter, and every single nook of the internet. This will insure that I will be unable to "disappear".
Hopefully.
Well, I have a hard time disagreeing with you since it's more a matter of personality and preference than of being right or wrong. Plus it's all speculation because I don't think anyone has actually been in this sort of situation or one remotely like it. I'd remember if I woke up as a pony one morning, hehehe.
Another thing to consider is, you can't hide forever. Sooner or later friends or family are going to want to come by, so better you're in a position to control it than having them happen by and freaking out.
But annnnyway, I think this is more a discussion of what we think we'd be likely to do rather than really reflecting what's going on in the story at this point. Except you're the author so the two overlap rather more than what I think I would do, does.
Wow that just sort of took a machete to English grammar. hehehe
At first I thought you were bonkers, but then I realized you had devised a rather smart plan with barging outside and proclaiming your existence like a fire alarm on four hooves.
If a day or two of observing the internet offered no credible evidence of me not being the only lone pony (and the pony-safe food I'd have was depleted), I'd have no choice but to take the drastic option. Since I live in a rather populated area, my first idea would probably be to ring all the doorbells of the apartment I live in. That's... hmm perhaps fifty people who'd see me before I'd rush outside to the streets. Also, I'm fortunate enough to own a camera, so if I were to be able to work my telekinesis/hooves/mouth, I could manage to photograph and record video of myself, then upload and present those on the internet right before embarking outside.
Yeah, I'd call that a contigency plan in case I truly was a lone pony in the world. Perhaps do it regardless. This hypothesis makes me think of FullMetalPony's "Reality Break" though.
Hey, disagreeing with me doesn't mean you're wrong or lead to me taking offense . I'm a civilized and rational person who, as an author, must regard any contrasting opinions with sensibility and never perceive mine as the truth.
Anyhow, I enjoy speculating, and a bunch of speculations of my own was what instiguated me to write FPV. Wake up as a pony; what would I do? The start was pretty much that simple.
That's also an interesting question. A demure female pony insisting to his parents he is their transformed son? How would it play out? Personally, I'd probably recount events I had shared with them to my best of abilites to convince them of who I am, though if they'd distrust me or something worse, I won't lie, I'd break into tears. My own parents abandoning me at a moment of a severe crisis would be . . . horrible 
, to say the least.
Given time, yes, their eyes would open. Hopefully. Or, if you were to tell of something that only you and your parents have experienced together. Something intricate and complex. Something that couldn't be known by anyone else than you three. Perhaps then?
Hehe indeed. Taking a discussion personally is never a good thing, nor is attacking someone ad hominem. So yeah~
Exactly. Every family has its own history along with secrets and fond memories and all sorts of things. If one doesn't have that sort of relationship with their own parents (and/or siblings or what have you) then they probably have a surrogate family they do have it with, even if it's just a tight knit group of friends. I'll tell you now that, if I couldn't reach my parents, my next stop wouldn't be my extended family. There are friends and "Aunts" and "Uncles" that I would go to first.
Assuming the change is only physiological, I guess I'd be me with the body of my favorite mane six. It'd be just as freaky if I woke up as any pony, original or canon. If I had their personality,however, then would I be myself any longer? Where can I draw the line where I'd be me and not, say, Rainbow Dash? Besides, I like Twilight Sparkle the best .
I would only shock prod my pre-reader if I was very, very angry, and I'm not easily angered.
Heehee~ Twilight Sparkle is the definition of Adorkable. So cuuute~ ^^
Yeah~ It'd be a really mean thing to actually use a cattle prod on someone.
On the other hand... I think we're all champing at the bit to see the next chapter. 
I know, I know, horse puns. XD Hehehehe
Adorkable? Ah, TVTropes! Right? But yes, Twilight Sparkle equals me has smile .
Anyway, yeah, after this long delay, maybe I have the justification to be a teensy bit rougher. But my Fluttershy side would kick in at a precise moment.
"Um, would you please pre-read quicker. I mean, if that's okay with you. I-I got a tool t-that's..." *stares at cattle prod; it zaps at nothing. Eyes shrink* "EEP!" *Leaves cattle prod on floor and runs behind cover. Shakily peeks at it a moment later*" ...scaring me."
Hehe, yup. TV Tropes.
D'awwwwww that's so kyuuuuuuuuuuute~!
Speaking of Twilight Adorable Lil' Twilight. Not sure if you've seen any of the fan comics floating around. This is one of my favorites.
Hehehehe, so true.
I like Cute and Adorable even more than my friend Wendy, and she's the girl, hehehehe.
<Wendy> "I need brain lysterene now! I'm getting cavities from all the sugar!"
<Me> "It's so cute! I love it!"
<Wendy> "Of course you do. It's giving me diabetes though!"
.I'm not sure there is one. Yay double standards.
We joke we're like a platonic Pink Boy Blue Girl couple, except I don't look or dress or really act feminine XD Maybe it would be more accurate to say that I have a healthy dose of Real Men Like to Cook and Watch Ponies.
Darn double standards. Just because I think tanks are cool doesn't mean cartoon ponies aren't! Oh yeah, real men wear pink. Does it count that the shirt I wear now features Fluttershy? She's got a pink mane. That, however, reminds me that in most video games where it's possible to dress up the character, I'll without doubt have the avatar at any point wear a piece of hot pink attire regardless of gender.
Presently my contact with tanks is through Saints Row: The Third. Its pretty funny to call up a homie to deliver a tank, recruit him so he can act as gunner, then roll on to the survival area. Literally sitting still with the tank, I act as a certified pacifist, whereas the gunner eliminates the wholly inadequately armed gang bangers with his .50 cal machine gun.
Bwahahaha~ Awesome.
Most of my experience with tanks comes from the Battlefield series. I even wrote a guide for the first game.
Never played the Saint's Row series.
I too have a GameFAQs account! I post very little nowadays though, and hardly ever on the game boards. I love the BF series though, but haven't played them since BF:BC2 for obvious reasons .
I used to play a BF1942 mod called Forgotten Hope eons ago. Fun times.
Me in a Churchill tank, engine on fire and immobile about 100 yards from an enemy base. I think I scored six panzers and a dozen footsoldiers before an airplane came to drop a bomb on me. Then were the countless times I was the only guy left on the team and I captured a flag on me own. Like the time I armed with nothing but a Johnson LMG (a joke of a weapon), assaulted a Japanese bunker. After downng ten guys the base was mine. Oh, and I can't forget the time I was a sniper near an enemy runway and I ran out of ammo. So I had to sneak into the enemy base and steal their ammo. I then returned to my sniping spot undetected. As I said, much fun was had.
Oh, and in Battlefield 1943 I defeated a sniper who was perched on a hilltop. With my plane. By running him over.
Seriously, the series is a gold mine of exciting moments to happen.
>>353509 Your first point here to CaptRory reminds me of an episode of Dexter's Laboratory where Deedee convinces Dexter to transform her into a horse; he wants to do experiments on her, her best friends want to ride her, but eventually she wants to be let free…which is when the spirit of the Pony Puff Princess intervenes to protect her from the others forcing them to let her go free.
If this story had featured a roommate, would he or she also be a pony that morning? Or would the roommate think the protagonist has gone insane overnight for suddenly denying being a pony and insisting on being a human? Would the protagonist be able to convince the roommate, or would the protagonist only further cement the roommates belief that the filly has totally lost her mind?
Hey, if you were to improve your English, then maybe you'd have the proper tools to mix the ingredients you presented into a fan fic of your own?
I've seen that episode too, and now I see why my little speculation brought that episode to the minds of some. No, it didn't act as inspiration for FPV and neither will I deliberatedly reference that episode in FPV.
I especially liked the idea of the Princesses showing up at the end, with an army. Suddenly, you have to choose where your allegience lies. Do you just let them rampage all over humanity? Do you turn your back on friends and family and blameless millions? Could you even stop them if you wanted to? *Strokes chin~* Very thought provoking.
Indeed. It actually reminds me of The Salvation War in some regards. Pony army shows up. And meets a modern military. Another reason to try and call off a conflict. Friendship may be magic but can it stop a bullet fired from a mile away that's traveling so fast it outran its own sound? I'd rather not find out.
I will agree with that.
Once you bring the current day setting into the story you need to think about that sort of thing though and avoid situations where it would be stupid not to. So, pony armies showing up would be a bad thing if it isn't reasonable to defuse the situation.
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