In The Air Tonight
First Pony View
A My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic fan fic
By Suomibrony
Chapter 9
In The Air Tonight
Voices intruded upon my black tranquility as I became aware of a rocking motion. No! I didn't want to wake up! I didn't make a sound. More talking. One apologetic and defensive, another admonishing and displeased. I tried to retreat back into my tranquil state. I heard a mutual understanding, spoken with calmer words. I still didn't respond, even as I felt gentle prodding begin. More talking, now worried. My sleepy feeling was comfortable . . . but I was starting to feel weird all over. I guess my sleep was ending. I suddenly felt myself hoisted . . . like a pallet on a forklift? Wait! What was going on?
My eyes shot wide open. “Heyyy!” I cried in surprise and confusion. The feelings tripled when I registered the uncharacteristically high pitch of my voice and a blurry impression of what might've been a bathroom. Shortly, my focusing vision confirmed it really was a bathroom. Somehow, I was suspended above the floor.
“Oh man, am I glad that you're finally back!” a relieved male voice came from a little overhead. Something uncomfortably integral atop my head twisted around to make his subsequent talk clearer: “You gave us quite the scare when we found you out cold and couldn't wake you. But Aidin did a quick examination and said you were okay.” I was momentarily perplexed, but my senses hastily kicked in to remind me of the present reality: where I was, who had spoken, what he had spoken about, and . . . that white thing in my vision meant—No!
“Yes, that I did,” another male voice said from beyond my immediate eyesight, currently filled by the white floor. With a light cringe, my semi-autonomous ears turned to my left to pinpoint the source before my eyes followed. Golden eyes that sat beneath furrowed brows focused on me. “But then, I began to worry that your loss of consciousness might be a symptom of a brain injury, like a hemorrhage, so I want to get you to the hospital.”
“Oh, yeah, that . . .” Marcus admitted plaintively. “So, that explains her erratic behavior you told me about?”
“Anxiety, communication problems, unexpected loss of awareness . . .” Aidin sighed, then continued, “I'm afraid they might indicate a hemorrhage.”
I had countless inquiries spinning in my head. Concentrating on the most pressing problem, I asked, “What's a hemor—?” Every muscle in my body turned rigid as the sound of my light voice reached my ears, and I squeezed my eyes shut to dispel my shock. “Hemorrhage? Wh-wh-what's that?” I continued, dismayed by how frail my fear-filled voice sounded.
“Internal bleeding,” he clarified after a momentary hesitation. No doubt my episode emboldened his suspicions of my health. “Or it could just be ischemia,” he muttered under his breath as he turned around for the bathroom exit. I had no idea what that word meant, but I knew enough already. The thought of my brain bleeding brought on a fresh slice of dread. How was internal bleeding stopped anyway? With an operation, I supposed. The imagery that presented itself to my mind's eye chilled me to the core.
“Please follow me, sir. We must go,” Aidin urged, glancing over his back as he left the room. The world began to sway and bob as my living forklift obediently trailed him.
“And, and, uh, this bleeding . . . it's bad?” I struggled against what seemed to be my body's inclination to speak in a hushed voice while still keeping my faculties organized. Being carried like a lapdog wasn't helping, but unfortunately, I still didn't feel I could walk on my own.
“Yes,” Aidin said to me, his expression serious. “Very bad.” Shouldn't he just say everything is fine? Or was it better for him to be bluntly honest? Either way, the pony considered my health to be in danger, and it seemed certain I wasn't going home as soon as I had anticipated.
“A-are you sure that your diagnosis is correct?” I worried, hoping he had misjudged and that I wasn't carrying a subcranial time bomb; I didn't want to die anymore. Blind luck had guided me to that road, and now that I had a second chance at life, I didn't want it to end on an operating table.
“I'd also like to know if you're correct on that,” Marcus shared some of my feelings. I had taken little notice of his home's decoration and furniture, but now, a plain white door with six identically shaped square windows stood before the pony's path.
“No, I'm not, and I can't be sure until I get her to the hospital, but I hope I'm wrong.” He glanced at me. “Now, uhm, this door is locked, er . . .” A grimace twisted his lips as he flailed a forelimb indicatively toward the door. Marcus deftly opened the lock without dropping me. “Thank you,” Aidin sighed, relieved. “Human houses and their doors . . .” The sand-yellow pony pushed the door open with his left foreleg, permitting the outside air to rush over us. Its chilly bite on me was minor, and I guess I had my coat to . . . thank.
A hospital wasn't a place I wanted to go to—a building packed to the brim with people who could label me insane the moment I said something about being a human male. I truly hoped I wasn't ill. If I was, I'd have to remain hospitalized for days. How could I keep myself secret for that long? Maybe I couldn't? Who am I kidding, I definitely couldn't! Oh no . . . Oh no! No, no, NO!
Desperately, I tried to argue. “But I-I, uh, I f-feel fine,” I stammered shakily, sounding like an imperfect Fluttershy copy. I wasn't sick, as in puking, coughing, or . . . paralyzed. Truth be told, I had no idea what hemorrhage could really lead to. The illness I best identified was the chronic discomfort and anxiety caused by my highly unsettling female equine form.
Turning his head around to reply, the paramedic had a sad glint in his eyes that matched his words: “I'm very sorry, but feeling fine and being fine aren't the same thing.” As we stepped outside into the rainy darkness, the water that began to run down my ears afflicted me with a sudden queasiness.
I hated to admit he was right; a life-threatening ailment could be amidst my brain matter. A trip to a hospital was likely unavoidable, and I'd be crazy to conjure any new counterarguments or attempt to flee. I had to accept this.
“I'm not taking any chances,” he continued as we began to head for the driveway, “and I fear I may not have taken action soon enough.” He let out a sigh that expressed both worry for me and remorse for himself.
“However, while you were unconscious, I took the liberty to check your pulse and finish the medical examination—and I apologize deeply for encroaching on your privacy.” He glanced at me with a sorry frown. “I hope you understand.” I was a bit disgusted, maybe even slighted, at what he had done while I was out cold, but I did understand his actions. “I believe you are unharmed, but a TIA or similar injury—or something worse—could be possible, and that's something I can't treat with the medical equipment I've brought with me.” I had no clue what a TIA was. My medical experience was limited to perusing random articles on human anatomy while bored at home, and that information was of little use to me now.
Marcus joined in to be the voice of reassurance. “If you ask me, I think you're completely fine, and your stay in the hospital won't be a long one.” Hopefully, he spoke the truth . . .
Cursorily, I noted that Marcus' home was the only house I could see out here. I guess we were in a rural area. Even the distance from his old-fashioned house to the driveway was notable, as were the two pony-like shapes facing us, illuminated by the driveway lights.
“I'm glad that you're hopeful, and I assure you, so am I. Still, it's better to be safe than sorry,” Aidin said as he came to stand before two soaked pegasi. “But if my worries are unfounded, then you're free to leave the hospital at any time.” After this, a pegasus by his side pointedly cleared her throat. “I'll also owe somepony special a bag of carrots, if you're sound as a bell,” he said to me with a confident smile. The mare chuckled lightly after that statement; I think she was more than convinced of my well-being.
“Don't sweat it,” Marcus said as I tried to discern the details of the flat object placed on the ground between the two pegasus ponies. They wore body-length harnesses that connected to the green contraption with two flexible rods per pony. “You'll be back on your legs in no time!” His fingers rubbed me lightly as he carefully adjusted my position in his arms, lightly tickling my new form in the process. Unfortunately, I couldn't appreciate the sensation.
“Of that, sir, I have no doubts,” the paramedic concurred with surprising decorum. The others watched me with compassionate curiosity as Aidin motioned at the device between them. “Now, please rest her gently on the stretcher,” he instructed amicably, identifying the contraption for me. Marcus began to do as prompted, and as my health—and my life—could be in jeopardy, I decided it was best to be perfectly compliant. Carefully orienting me to be parallel with the two pegasi, Marcus let my forehooves touch down on the stretcher first, which ensued without too much mental conflict; however, when I was laid prone and my hind legs were tucked to my sides, I winced with an unintended grunt. The reconciliation with my extremely unusual physiology was still in its infancy. Marcus voiced an apology, which he augmented by gently running his hand down my neck and back. Nonverbally, and therefore secret to him, I accepted his mollifying gesture, although my briefly tensing muscles informed how questionably I regarded his gesture. He almost seemed to perceive me more as an animal than a sapient being.
Heeding Aidin's further instructions, Marcus began to affix belts over my forelegs, back, and across my . . . tail. That sent a powerful squirm along the total length of my spine, but I knew that I had to be secured. Simultaneously, I realized that I was about to be taken into the air by the pegasi duo, which was a fascinating method of transportation. Still, it was hard to ignore the feelings of unease and disgrace for my restraints, but those were nuisances compared to the real threat on my well-being. A glance revealed that the locking mechanism for the belt holding my forelimbs in place was fastened with a user-friendly lock even . . . a pony could open. With their . . . my mouth.
“Thank you for your help, sir,” Aidin said politely once the three belts were in place. The tangerine-maned pony looked at me with a gentle gaze, although I could see his worry shimmering in his golden eyes. “Now, please allow me to introduce my colleagues.” He looked to my right: “Ampoule.” The pegasus nodded silently with a lean smile, his short cobalt blue mane and eyes creating a strong contrast with his bright yellow coat. “And Medical Brace,” Aidin said with warmth to the mare to my left. Her aquamarine pelt was identifiable thanks to the illumination provided by the few lollipop-shaped driveway lamps.
“Hello, hon,” she said with a smile, half-lidding the amethyst eyes that sat beneath her long and weathered peroxide blonde mane, before lowering her head down to whisper into my ear: “If you're what we call a false alarm, my sweetheart here owes me some fresh carrots. I promise to give you a share after you get a clean bill of health, okay?” Compassion and confidence were drawn on her features when she withdrew from me, but I was simply confused. A false alarm?
With a smug expression on her visage, she looked at Aidin, who poorly feigned obliviousness of what she had said. I think. I couldn't tell if they were being honest, or if it was simply an act to make me feel safe. Relaxed. I managed to reply with a ghost of a smile. I didn't know if they could tell, but I was starting to feel ill from stress. I could only hope I'd build a resistance to my fears, and inure to my ears . . . before I broke into tears.
“All right, everypony. The situation is this,” Aidin said to both pegasi, and I looked at him attentively. “As I said earlier, our patient seems to be suffering from psychological trauma. She lost consciousness recently, and she may have an intracerebral injury.” The two ponies nodded sharply in acknowledgement, whereas my frown worsened; I found no joy in being referred to as a female, and I was very much concerned of what would happen to me at the hospital. My fears ranged from surgery to death, to the potentially devastating consequences of an accidental or forced revealing of my identity. Plus, the rain landing on my literally inhuman ears was discomforting. “Good. Now—Oh, pardon me!” An apologetic grin dawned on Aidin. “I almost forgot to tell you: her name's Rosy.”
Rosy? Rosy Stripes? That was my name? The one that had caused me to faint? The one that I had outright refused to think of again? The name that had always been mine, except not before today? My name must be a sign of brain injury! I mean, that name! Aidin was right; I was really suffering from a brain injury!
Worryingly, the two pegasi, whose cutie marks I saw matched their names, dawdled with benign expectation on their expressive muzzles. In turn, I eyed both with justified alarm on my mind. “Um, h-h-hi,” I managed to whimper to the stallion. Ampoule simply bowed his head with a frown of sympathy, radiating goodwill that I was impervious to. My ears and head sunk down, the latter mitigating my stress none, and I closed my eyes tightly as I began to counter my ascending anxiety and hyperventilation.
“Don't be afraid, hon,” Medical Brace's dulcet tone slinked into my ears, and I felt something soft grace my neck. “You can count on all of us.” She paused, while the massage continued. “Remember what I said about carrots?”
“Yeah,” I pushed a shamefully tiny squeak past the lump in my throat. I couldn't understand nor believe that I was capable of producing such a sound.
“Listen. In an hour, you'll be eating carrots with a smile on your lips. Trust me, hon,” she assured. By now, I believed she was sincere. As I turned to look at her with exhausted eyes, I noticed what was on my neck and smiled lightly. A real pegasus wing! It was so soft, even through my fur. A desire to unbuckle myself and cry into her aquamarine plumes threatened to impose its will upon me, but I pushed it back—simply being graced by her wing was more than I could've wished for.
A rustling alerted my ears, which informed me that it came from behind, and Medical Brace retracted herself. A translucent tarp that was apparently integral to the stretcher was rolled over me by Marcus. It shielded me from the elements, much to the relief of my overly sensitive ears. The fairly spacious cover that was now being painted by the downpour had small support beams of its own, probably to provide rigidity against the colliding air once we were airborne. Noting that I was saved from the rain's torture, and with the help of Medical Brace's gesture still fresh in my mind, I began to calm. I was so shaken that I wanted to leak tears from behind my closed eyes, but I couldn't allow that. Not now, not here. Maybe . . . if I let out just a few furtive tears . . . just a small release . . . No, not even that was permitted. I had cried more in the past few hours than I had in an entire year. I had to show some dignity and resilience.
By the sound of things, Aidin or Marcus began to close some kind of latches to secure the cover in place. Aidin spoke, “I wish to speak with Marcus for a while, so leave without me this time.”
“D'accord,” the so far silent stallion said, and then I heard the flapping of wings.
“Sure thing! See you soon, sweetheart,” Medical Brace affirmed chipperly to her special somepony. I was silent, but a few seconds later, my eyelids and ears ascended as I suddenly remembered something vital. “But, uh—” It was too late; a small g-force pressed my body to the canvas when I was hoisted into the air. “My pears . . .” I continued in a pitiably mousy tone, followed by a moan of comparable quality as I slumped my head between my forelegs. The lock for the belts irritated my jaw, but I didn't care. A muted, agitated groan emitted from my throat when my annoying ears fell, too. No matter, sooner or later, I'd acclimate to them, but the single morsel in my stomach had probably dissolved by now, and soon I'd have an empty hole in me again.
Why were all the good things being taken from me? I had to overreact. I had to mess up, and now, I had only myself to blame! Everything could've gone better had I not been tricked twice by my name . . . Or a subcranial injury was the culprit. That must be what was making my name feel so genuine. I could do absolutely nothing now but hope the hospital could cure me. And maybe provide me with nutrition, too. Preferably something edible and tasty. Perhaps. Was hospital food terrible? I didn't care. I just had to be tight-lipped about myself and disallow my curiosity to act. My survival as a free, inconspicuous individual rested on being laconic and passive.
I peered into the darkness. The lights from a few houses and scattered light poles of this rural area were a drab sight. I glanced at the ponies by my side, noticing a gently upwards-slanted surface between them and me. The shape was connected to the equine's harness with a pair of segmented rods. As I was examining it, the flight path changed, and a brighter light show crossing the horizon caught my immediate attention. It took me a few seconds to identify it as a highway a few kilometers away, and . . . it was beautiful. The orange streak that was slowly nearing us had me mesmerized. I couldn't help but smile, and I felt . . . a little happy. My concerns were being pushed to the caboose of my train of thought.
The air and rain noisily toyed with the tarp, but they didn't distract me from soon fantasizing about the perky droning of a horizontally opposed, four-cylinder Lycoming engine rotating a two-bladed propeller at 23,000 revolutions per minute. I closed my eyes to immerse myself deeper into this stress-alleviating vision.
Clear sky all around, with the exception of a few clouds. The scenery of roads, lakes, forests, and towns a few thousand feet below scrolling gently by at a velocity of 90 knots, with the wind, the entrancing rotations of the airscrew, and the heart of the machine as a soundtrack. My imagination ran so vividly that I began to hear ATC chatter, and the engine and the propeller sounds became subtly separate. Flying an airplane was a wondrous beauty worth achieving. A wish to covet. A dream to realize. It was so close. Me and the plane, together in the air . . . experiencing a freedom like no other, not as two, but as one . . .
I sighed, I couldn't properly describe it, but it would be magic. I had only one more month of jobless procrastination until I was supposed to enter flight school. Despite my initial concerns on the contrary, I would safely make it on the money I had saved from my former job.
I had worked in a small electronics shop, owned by one Oscar Dahlin. My task there was to do pretty much everything that didn't require his seemingly unlimited expertise on electronics. While I never saw him outside work hours, we were nonetheless cool with each other. He didn't talk much about his personal life, but what I did learn was that he was a widower with no family. He was also very passionate about his little enterprise, which he had kept successfully afloat for about thirty years. I found that to be a very admirable accomplishment.
What was funny was that when he placed his old car up for sale, I bought it almost right on the spot, with the money I had earned from being in his employment. I had to wonder if getting me the car was his intention. I wagered it was; he had an air about him the days leading up to his decision to sell it. The car wasn't expensive, and it wasn't in bad shape. Of course, it didn't have power steering, central locking, or proper air conditioning. Pure practicality. Still, I was happy with the sky-blue sedan, and I think he was happy that it was in my possession instead of in a scrap yard. Sadly, he kicked the bucket the next weekend. Apparently, he ruptured a vessel, or something. I hoped it had been painless . . . and that brought back to mind my present condition. What was I thinking about? I had to go back to it! It was Oscar, and he . . . Gone . . . The shop . . . Yes! Calming, calming . . . calming . . . calming memories . . .
After Oscar's death, I decided to simply enjoy my home, living on my meager savings and unemployment benefits for a while. Occasionally, I would hang out with my friends, but I had grown tired of their idea of fun, which entailed drinking themselves stupid almost every time I was with them. It hadn't always been like that, but it seemed that adulthood equaled a right to frequently invoke intoxication. Since I was the only sober guy, it was highly awkward being with my temporarily obnoxious friends, who voiced opinions that I didn't acknowledge, hoping they weren't their true beliefs; however, the louder they became, the quieter I became, and with that kind of isolation came conviction. About two weeks ago, when they were once again in an altered state of mind, I finally lost my cool and gave them a piece of my mind. After an embittering altercation, I left them to their own devices. It would take a while before I'd dare to see them again, if ever . . . They were still my friends . . . Or were they? Was I a friend to them? I was so torn on those subjects . . . and I didn't want to focus on that now.
Oscar had looked so healthy that day. Slightly graying hair, but other than that, his features bore no trace of the sixty years of his life's journey. I still remember the smile on his spry, bespectacled face when he handed over the keys to me. Said that "I should take care of the humble fella.” I bought his car for a meager sum and fully expected to see him after the weekend. But that was the last I saw of him. Next I heard, he had collapsed on the way out of a hardware store. I hated to admit it—even now—that I had honestly teared up a smidgen when the news reached me.
Life went on, I wasn't in any kind of financial trouble, and I was the new owner of an old car, so things were comparatively good. During my first days of ownership, I took the car on a few excursions to get a better feel for it. Namely, I tested the nimble sedan a little on a sizeable and usually vacant lot of a horse racing track outside the city limits.
At some point, I had promised myself to take very good care of the aged sedan for as long as possible. I felt it was the right thing to do. Some kind of legacy, or duty, that Oscar had passed to me. Four meters of alloy and plastic weighing at about one ton gained status that was beyond its original intent as an ultimately impermanent and replaceable form of transportation. I believe that in an effort to ensure I'd responsibly protect and preserve the car, I applied a name to it. Or would that be him? Quite absurd, I confess, that I was taking Oscar's humorous comment a bit too seriously. Jim's just an unfeeling, lifeless machine . . .
Maybe someday, I'll get over the sentimentality and give him a good home. I had actually learned a few days ago that he was just a couple of years short of qualifying as a museum car. I guess that was another, much better and logical reason to maintain the car. My little automobile, a future museum exhibit? That kind of an impressive accomplishment would make me burst with immense pride and joy!
Wait, what was that?
Ampoule's sudden guffaw wrenched me out of my memory lane. Whatever the cause of his mirth was, I had now been brought back to the present moment, and my current method of travel was dissuading me from slipping back into my recollections.
After an arbitrary glance of my immediate surroundings, the compactible wing design that was integrated to a stretcher made me primarily wonder whether it was a recent innovation or if it had been perfected over several generations, and had it been developed here on this Earth or brought from Equestria? If that place truly existed, that is. As I understood (with the help of countless fictional stories and some educated theories), there's a universe for anything and everything, and more are created constantly and indefinitely. Even the number and arrangement of atoms flowing in and out from my lungs probably created an infinite number of universes for every passing attosecond. Hence, it wouldn't be a completely absurd claim that two drastically different universes – one with humans, the other with ponies – were somehow connected.
However, I had no way to ascertain the existence of Equestria other than asking the pegasi . . . What if they asked what Equestria was? How would I explain that? These ponies weren't inarguable proof of its existence. Maybe I could blame the brain injury for my unusual question? Perhaps it would be wiser to start with an innocuous question from which I could segue the direction of the conversation to the ponies' birthplaces. I just had to hope they wouldn't ask me any similar questions; I didn't trust myself to produce a proper cover story on a short notice. Maybe I could pretend that I was amnesiac? No, that would be too risky. However, I could learn a lot just by starting a conversation with a simple question that's unrelated to Equestria and ponies. Now, what could that question be . . . ?
Luckily, the air and rain rattling the protective tarp sparked an idea, and with a smile, I looked at the pony to my right. “Can you tell me what our altitude and airspeed are?” I queried enthusiastically to Ampoule, but my distinctively feminine voice immediately caused me to gag in disgust. I had defaulted to being an out-and-out male on a subconscious level in spite of my awareness of my equine shape. I may've received a reply to my aeronautically pertinent inquiry, but I didn't hear it over my morosity.
Suddenly, I recalled an instance when I was in an ill mood, just like now. In my mind's eye, lush rolling hills were stretching so far that the vivid green blended with the light blue horizon. I was just a young . . . filly?
No!
The memories of my own human past were unquestionably authentic, and the brief vision I had just seen was nothing but a glitch caused by my cerebral injury! I shouldn't worry too much. I would be healed soon, and then my real name would be restored. The name that I could see in my mind but had failed to come out. No fear. The docs would fix me. Save me.
Unfortunately, I doubted they could cure my number one illness: my physical composition. I had been assured—and I wanted to be sure—that I wasn't in a life-threatening danger. If I kept quiet, there was a very good chance that once I was discharged, the hospital staff would be none the wiser of who I was. And then I'd stroll home to do some on-site research, and . . . If that research was inconclusive? If I found nothing from there, or from the infinite well of information that was the Internet? Or if I learned that there was no way back? That this was how I had to be, for all time? That the worst case scenario had become real and eternal . . . ?
Something started to tug at my heart, and my breaths became spasmodic. Those were the symptoms of the vague but disheartening predictions that were swirling in my mind. There was no clear vision of what kind of a life I'd have as a female equine, just . . . abstract horror and overwhelming melancholy. I knew there was nothing I could do, not right now . . . except to keep my hopes up!
‘For goodness sake! Here and now's not the darn time to drag myself down to sadness city! Anything less but the total restoration of my real self and life is completely unacceptable! I will prevail!’ I scolded myself, frowning tensely as I worked to perish the dismal thoughts and salvage my declining mood. The contempt I felt for my own moment of weakness channeled outwards, and I glared at nothing, hoping to overhear the ponies' conversation.
Much to my disappointment, the two were talking in a language I recognized but couldn't speak nor understand. I almost growled at my linguistic deficiency; it would've been less menacing than a revving Vespa thanks to my dauntingly feminine larynx.
I was envious of the duo's method of flight, although I would have preferred a machine to pilot. Regardless, if I had any say in my unexplained transformation into a pony, I would've chosen to be a pegasus.
A pegasus stallion, just to be clear.
The rhythmic oscillation of their wings gradually soothed my ill feelings, though I wasn't exactly sure why my sights became affixed to the repetitive movements of their plumed limbs. Obviously, I was amazed by their existence alone, especially now that the worst of my mind-addling trauma was behind me. I could've tried to initiate dialogue with them again, but . . . those wings . . . I stared at them in complete bewilderment.
After a short duration of thoughtless observation of both ponies, it occurred to me that the wings were working in opposing directions: when the mare's wings were in an upward cycle, the stallion's were thrusting downwards, and vice versa. It took me a while, but I was able to guesstimate that turning was accomplished by the pony on the inner side reducing the wing beat rate, whereas the outer pony increased theirs. Their wings may have tilted, or the pony yawed to aid the maneuver, but such intricate details were difficult to distinguish through the darkness and the droplets streaking the plastic cover; it was only because they carried lights that I was able to see them at all. The change of heading was comparable to steering a twin-engined airplane by adjusting the engine power to create asymmetrical thrust. It was interesting that the pegasi expertly employed a technique usually demonstrated by aircraft whose control surfaces had become inoperable.
The flying pair changed heading nimbly and efficiently, maintaining a level attitude. When the ponies had lifted off, the folded surfaces between them and the stretcher had expanded to produce an airfoil of sorts, although that had gone unnoticed by me when it had occurred. Apparently, sex didn't have much effect on a pegasi's muscle mass, as Medical Brace had no trouble matching her partner's wing strokes. Another apparent and astonishing aspect was their adherence to aviation regulations: the lights they carried were navigational lights! A red and a green collar on the mare and the stallion, respectively. I had to wonder where the strobe lights were. Maybe hidden underneath the stretcher and airfoil?
I finally detached my focus from the pegasi to scan my surroundings. The highway was below us now, dotted with the moving reds and whites of automobile lights. Moist air was rushing in from small gaps between the tarp and stretcher. To my surprise, the smell of emission from the cars below was detectable but not irritating. Not too far away was the familiar sea of colors belonging to my home city. Mostly orange and white, in addition to logos, traffic lights, and other signs. A few kilometers ahead, on the right side of the highway, was a mall. The illuminated latticed column, most likely brandishing familiar brand names, marked its location. I had been there once or twice.
The rural landscape gave way to more and more homes of various types, and commercial buildings as well. Passing the mall, we soon reached the city proper, and the highway transitioned to a thoroughfare leading into the heart of the population center. The lights of civilization that stretched out in every direction were unusually bright and vibrant. Maybe it was the darkness creating a contrast, or the water on the tarp working as lenses to enhance the luminosity of the incalculable gleams. Or my vision; I didn't exactly have human eyes anymore. In any case, it was an unusual but magnificent view.
I saw so much more and farther. This vista helped me to remember the times I had ventured to one of the few hills in the city to survey the landscape. Armed with binoculars and a map, I'd sometimes stay there up to an hour, spotting landmarks for my own pleasure. Although the hill wasn't very tall by worldly standards, most of the city's buildings were of less height, thus granting me a good impression of the scenery. The farther away the landmark, the more spectacular and breathtaking it was to witness. Most notable was the water tower over 30 kilometers away! The wondrous sight was spellbinding; it took so long for me to tell myself to leave every time I had been up on that hill. All I had done was watch in stunned awe and delight. It had been so beautiful, yet so simple, and so was this.
Really, what could be more wonderful than flying?
Because I had no way to tell the time, I couldn't gauge how long we had been in the air. We had left the expressway behind to cross over the denser areas of the city. In the distance, a relatively large building stood almost half again taller than the ones surrounding it—our destination. I recognized the thirteen-floor-tall monolith as the city's main hospital. A sadness at the end of my flight, and the uncertainty of my future, began to creep in at the same rate the predominantly white building became more distinct. Hopefully, in less than an hour or so, I'd be told I was okay, or at least being treated back to health.
I hoped they had unicorn magic that'd be able to fix me. The image of my head being cut open, the insertion of surgical tools and . . . brain bandages or whatever—Those didn't play well with me. The relaxed look I had just moments ago had been replaced by a frown, and my tail was trying to hide itself between my legs. That felt uncomfortable. Regardless, my primary objectives were to be as inconspicuous as possible and to keep my male humanity strictly to myself. I had to wear my appearance like it was perfectly normal; I couldn't detest any of its properties or show signs of ineptitude.
It took a few seconds for me to fully comprehend my scheme, but when I did, my face blanked in unprecedented terror and shock. The greatest challenge of my life was minutes away, and I had no better or wiser options available. I would strive to be as passive and reticent as possible to minimize the attention I'd receive, besides the obvious medical care, and the staff would naturally be predisposed to perceive me as what I resembled.
Once the hospital was no more than a few hundred meters away, I summed up the behavior I'd stick to: withdrawn, quiet, and very cautious of what I'd say or do. However, I had to ask myself: was my planned guise just another layer of humiliating femininity I was applying to myself? Was it better if I behaved as myself, sans the male human traits? Was it even possible to disallow my innate characteristics from manifesting? I couldn't know for sure. I was being taken to a hospital, a place stacked with people who could legitimately suspect my sanity the moment I acted outside my soon-to-be-assumed role. I had to attract as little attention as possible. I couldn't tell what frightened me more: the supposed brain injury, the methods the doctors would employ to treat me, my true self being exposed, or my ruse of being an authentic pony if the situation demanded for it. I hoped for the best, but I had no idea how to prepare for the worst.
With the flight in its landing approach, I took notice of a wide white structure with an overhang at the far side of the rectangular roof. Exercising much precision and care, the two ponies flared to a glide along the length of the roof before landing smoothly underneath the overhang. The wing-like assembly and stretcher lowered to the floor, and a pair of the sliding doors in front of me opened into a surprisingly bright room.
The sudden increase in luminosity forced my eyes to close. The two ponies pulled the entire wing assembly, and me with it, into the room. Judging by the clicks and shuffles, they were proceeding to uncouple themselves from the complex harness. The stallion said something in a complaining tone, and the mare replied with an appeasing one. Why did they speak in that language? Not that I could ask. I had to be passive.
I heard more clicking, and then the stretcher was lifted off the floor and almost simultaneously rotated 90 degrees. A quick glance informed me that I had been placed transversely on the ponies' backs. I had not seen or heard any others besides the two, so they must've done it by themselves.
Hooves clacked softly on the floor, then came to a halt after only a few seconds. The two spoke briefly again in that fancy language, and I heard elevator doors open. It wasn't until now that I actually questioned why I had been airlifted by pegasus ponies instead of an ambulance delivering me here. If it wasn't so unnerving being in a hospital, I would've felt amazed again.
“Feeling well, hon?” Medical Brace asked softly. I replied with a hasty, positive-sounding hum. The too-high sound that climbed from my throat didn't convince me, but at least I hadn't gone rigid in dread. “Don't worry,” she continued in that unbelievably soothing voice of hers, “You're safe now, and you'll have carrots soon. Promise.” How could she be sure of that? Was she the pony splitting my head open and staunching my internal bleeding?
The brightness inside the elevator was unbearable to me, so barring a few quick looks, I continued to keep my eyes sealed while I waited for my vision to acclimate. I briefly envied the two ponies for being less light-sensitive than me. To help quell my fears, I wondered if, perhaps once this was over, I could ask for a return flight home? I almost smiled in anticipation in spite of my concerns.
To think, the previous evening, right before sleep, I had been busy playing . . . a video game? How odd. Why couldn't I remember what game it was? I had . . . four games? That few? I saw them on the desk this morning, and yesterday, too. Didn't I have more? Odd. Something seemed off about my home now that I thought about it. Something I should be aware of, but my mind wasn't telling me what it was. Or . . . it was simply the stress and possible brain injury throwing my faculties into disarray. Probably that, yeah. I would've continued to play whatever video game it was the next morning and leisurely counted down another day to flight school, had not fate, or whatever, done this to me. I had been removed—No! Torn away from my comfy and safe existence, and all I could do now was maintain hope that it wasn't impossible to get it back. Until then . . . For as long as I would be here, in this hospital, maybe even in this realm . . . I had to keep myself a secret . . . and that meant . . . I had to be a mare.
What had I done to deserve this kind of torment?
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A featured story in which a someone turns into a somepony...intruiging. You earned a read. Now, to actually READ it. Ugh, so many good fanfics to distract myself from writing. :/
You sly dog you. When I asked about the pineapples, you said there would be an answer to a question from Chapter 4 in the next chapter. I was expecting a revelation regarding said fruits.
But instead, you revealed who 'Jim' was.
*Shakes fist*
Real good chapter. I hope the next doesn't take too long, because this story strings me out like a heroin junkie (which I'm not, never touched the stuff).
Thanks for updating!!!
now to read the awesome!
Lucid Dreaming. It's extremely fun...sometimes.
Kinda reminds me of "The Matrix" you know... Waking up in a world were everything you have ever known turns out to be false...
Now that's intense...
if i remember correctly less then 24 hours have passed. how long is this story going to be?
still a good story though.
Still struggling, Rosy? I do believe psychoanalysts could easily help you with melding of your two souls. Especially pony psychoanalysts.
And yet another brilliant update to the story.
This is now my favorite story!
UPDATE!!!!!!
.. that was not very russian, was it?
201780
That is one badass collection of comics
Well done!!!
In the feature box again!!!
Good way to start a day: wake up ---> read FPV. This chapter brought back some good memories.
"My pears" oh how I laughed at that
imgs.xkcd.com/comics/morning.png
This is wonderful, as always, and I have to compliment the illustrations again. Really nice lighting work on the flying scene.
I'm absolutely thrilled at this being updated. It was another interesting chapter...
My only complaint is that it had to end. Ah well. Here's to waiting for the tenth chapter.
Update to First Pony View? Best birthday present ever!
wait is this a Conversion Bureau story sense humans and ponies are together? also good chapter cant wait for the next
This remains a very intriguing story. For awhile I've been afraid that this was a Conversion Bureau story but with each chapter that seems to be less and less likely. Hopefully that's the case and this story remains original and mysterious. Overall still very entertaining and the art just adds a wonderful touch to an already immensely enjoyable tale. Thanks for sharing and I look forward to the next!
881650
It is intriguing, because . . . really, how many of us would wish to be a pony? This guy gets that, although . . . did he wish for it? If so, he should've been careful what he wished for.
Anyhow, I hope your own fic goes well despite the distractions.
881687
No idea what's going on? I'd figure the first chapter is the least confusing, since it merely details the struggles the guy faces as he tries to command his new form to obey his neural pulses. At any rate, it's quite nice that you compliment the articulation of the story. The first chapter was written when I was still new to writing anything beyond message board comments. As for the sadness that incomplete fics bring you, I must tell you that this story is far from its closure.
881688
I said in a far, far away comment that I'd begin to unveil things and not just drop questions. So, isn't it great to know who Jim is?
Anyhow, I try to work harder on getting the next chapter out. Just needs a few kinks sorted out, and then it may go to the editor.
881722
Oh, it's awesome? Thanks!
881726
It's extremely fun. Or was fun. Now it's a bit closer to a nightmare for poor MC.
881767
Well, I have to confess that I haven't seen The Matrix, but general exposure through second-hand sources allows me a rudimentary comprehension of the movie and what it tells of. Therefore, I may wonder, what is real for the MC and what is false? Quite a profound and potentially frightening question, is it not? Especially if the answer could disprove ones existence. Or confirm it. His or hers? Or are they one and the same? I better not tell anything.
881777
I was worried for a moment that my poor writing skills had compromised the story for you. Anyhow, let me see what you ask.
1. Oh, I can't reveal that.
2. A future chapter holds the answer.
3. Maybe it was real.
4. It's nice that you overthink, because I tend to overthink, and so does the MC occasionally.
P.S. That meme is so overdone it's unfunny, and the MC knew it was unfunny, yet employed it in an unfunny way. Hence, the unfunny was so unfunny, that it inverted itself and became funny!
881818
1. I hope to provide an explanation once the pony meets this man again.
2. The way the MC acted, it might as well been.
3. Angry people do angry stuff. Then again, he wasn't enough angry to turn her into a disfigured lump of broken bones and disheveled fur. Perhaps she was too cute?
4. Very cryptic what now? Oh, the pineapple event? Yeah, it's not very coherent, is it?
Anyway, I'm glad that you enjoy my amateurish story despite its shortcomings.
881834
Why indeed less than 24 hours has passed in the story. No idea how many days the story will span. I've laid out events that may or may not transpire, but onetheless covers enough time to reach up to two days after chapter nine.
881846
Very nice rules. Of course, the MC wasn't aware of them, which might've been to our (the audience's) advantage and entertainment. The only thing he wanted to change in accordance with his supposition on what a lucid dream permits was his physical form.
881856
It's okay. This story will patiently wait for you.
881865
I'm not sure Rosy would want to see a head doc. They could say that she's a mare and nothing but mare, and that any resistance is futile.
881882
Oh? It is? Thank you. That put a sincere smile on my lips.
881887
?
Does it make a differense was it very russian or not
881889
I suppose they are. Maybe you may wish to print them and place them on your wall? Speaking of which, I bought MLP stickers to decorate my laptop with.
881892
881893
Good memories? Oh, my curiosity wishes to know more, just like it wonders what amused you about “My pears.”
881901
Dead pixels? I thought they were called stars
881929
He's an impressive artist. Without those images, we'd never see how cute Rosy is. Yes, even when she's utterly broken and laced with grime does she look adorable.
882216
What a one-shot this would be if it was just one big chapter, huh?
I have to agree; it was quite disheartening to know that I had to end the chapter. Maybe, somewhere out there, is a story that has only one chapter. Oh, wait, there are. They're acalled one-shots!
Anyway, I may want to run through chapter ten a few times to ensure it looks good before allowing the editor slap me upside the head and wonder what drivel I've permitted myself to produce
882305
Well, I'm glad to provide! Also, at the risk of overstated redundancy, I hope you had some authentically real and genuinely existent cake of the certifiably and inarguably tangible variety!
882319
Well, it looks to be just the same world as MC's, except with ponies. Sounds like a dream come true, right? For the MC, it is, except I'm sure he would've preferred a more relatable form.
882450
To be honest, I've read some TCB stories and indeed have faved a few, but I found their futuristic dystopia to be principally unrelatable. Nanotechnology, world government, rampant pollution, and a barrier of unstoppable magic that literally eradicates most , if not all, human-made things, including humans themselves. The end of a world and humanity as a species, and in some stories, the eradication of human culture down to the most insignificant minutia. Suffice to say, the TCB fics are far too removed from our daily lives, just like sci-fi stories and mythology tales are. Now, what would our world look like if ponies coexisted with us today? That you could look out your window, see the world the same as it was just a minute ago, and then you'd see a pony walking the street or fly in the sky? That'd be so absolutely astonishing and amazing, that your jaw would risk detachment from the body, to put it lightly. Now imagine that it has been like this for years. Decades, maybe. Ever since the beginning of recorded history? Not so unusual anymore, right? Rosy has ventured quite a while in his (or her) own home and some rural cliff, not to mention pondered on everything related to her form. It's about time we began to see glances of the world that's just as new to him as it is to us, yet identical in so many ways that it could pass as his if it were not for ponies inhabiting it.
I'm still captivated by this story.
The surrealism of unreality, the acceptance of the unacceptable, trips down memory lane, the visual pictures... all of it.
It's fascinating.
"She lost consciousness recently, and he may have an intracerebral injury." Normally small spelling and grammar errors don't really matter much, but you really don't want to accidentally switch gender identities in this story.
882731
. If my brain permits to apply this to itself in relation to myself, then I think I've fixed the error.
Oh, that was an embarrassing typo
882713
!
Thank you
I was in such a troubling state of mind when I did and had produced that little insight into the MC's memories, fearing that it would shatter the pastless character that he had been so far; however, I have to admire myself just a smidgen for including memory that apparently insinuates he has a past as a female pony.
I saw that this updated and I thought 'He's getting faster!' Well anyway, great chapter into the mind of the poor mare/man thing. I honestly think this could go on forever and never get old! I mean, who wouldn't want to see the average life and adventures of Rosy?
882699
>I'm not sure Rosy would want to see a head doc. They could say that she's a mare and nothing but mare, and that any resistance is futile.
Good doctor will try to understand the patient, at least. And if said patient believes that he was a human male before and has memories to back his claim... why not help him/her in melding these memories and personalities into a new being?
Oh, and any doctor to say that shouldn't probably exist in the land of ponies and people. You tend to not get paid when your 'help' just worsens the condition - in the right, uncorrupted country, at least.
881846
Right, except not. These apply to majority of people, but not to all.
Falling does not awake me. I know a person whose dreams are exact replica of reality, and disregard all your points. And nearly everyone can enter "phase", state described by Mikhail Raduga (not sure if his books are translated), where even reality seems less real than dream you're in.
P.S. Ugh, I hate bbcode. Wakabamark is sooooo much faster to type.
883016
Yeah, I'm getting faster, haha! There's so much Rosy has yet to experience before I can safely call this story to be over. If this ever becomes a slice of life story, then I may want to start it as a new one that continues from the conclusion of FPV. Something like . . . First Pony View: Ma Vie En Rosy.
883044
Good point about competent and authentic doctors not twisting Rosy's arm to accept her being a her; however, she has her dispositions which may be entirely inaccurate and separated from reality, fueling her want to keep her true identity a secret until she finds someone she can entrust with the truth. Then again, if a doc who has heard her tale encourages her to stop pursuing the returning of his mind to another body in a different universe, she may come to believe that the doc is trying to brainwash her self-identity to become that of a mare named Rosy Stripes, which I imagine is not what she truly desires to hear from someone she may've resigned or convinced herself to trust with her problem.
883161
And that's the problem. How she will be able to know if a person is trustful? Will she even be able to _talk about_ his life, given that he can't even pronounce his own name?
And, of course, there's entirely different matter in magic, which probably should have 'mindwalk' spells and the like, allowing unicorn doctors to look into mind of their patient and subsequently discover legitimacy of both set of memories, thus proving them that they need to heal not Rosy Stripes, but both personalities caught in body of this (adorable) mare, quite possibly culminating in said personalities willingly merging or separating completely.
883214
That's an interesting look into Rosy's dilemma. Although she spoke her name twice, I'm fairly sure she could speak his name. It may just be that as he may now be in Rosy's body, some mental wirings have changed to reflect that. Thinking my name leads to the result being Rosy Stripes, not what his name is. As far as we can deduce, she's now being taken to the hospital because she may be suffering from a brain injury. The docs who then adinister aid to her will most likely check for signs of intracranial damage, not if the mare truly is a mare in mind, either because they've not been assigned to do it or because they simply don't have a unicorn who can cast the psyche-analyzing spell. Of course, the discovery of dual minds may not come if neither he or any others expose it. In fact, even if a unicorn with the capabilites to produce a mindwalk spell was present, its casting may be thought to be unneeded if Rosy doesn't do anything to warrant the usage of said spell. t's feasible she could be treated back to health, and once she is discharged, the staff would be none the wiser to what the ice white mare contains within her body because her cover had been sufficiently convincing.
However, it may also be that once she leaves the hospital after who knows how long, the mare's persona has superseded the human's to the point that she has convinced herself that she indeed is a mare and always has been.
883443
You can't erase a second set of memories. Hide, yes, suppress, yes, but not erase. So Rosy convincing herself that she always was a mare will just result in personality struggle subsiding and pony personality becoming dominant, with human one dormant.
If brain damage is not present, but symptoms are there, they surely will check her for psychological ilnesses. And they ARE there. She has visible mental breakdown (you know many healthy people who faint after saying their name twice, second time much weaker?) presumably reported by (unburdened and thus much faster) Aidin, and doctors usually can tell if you're behaving normally or faking 'normal'.
To the point of saying _his_ name, will Rosy be able to do it? She's currently thinking in terms of 'I', and it's shown that for that body 'I' is Rosy Stripes. Will he be able to describe his evening, or will he describe _hers_ instead, at least at first?
brb asking local psychotherapist about being able to tell faking patients
This is good fanfic, but... all that "slowly replacing human personality with completely another one of a mare unicorn" thing is downright scary. Very scary. At least, for me.
I always love this story so much. It's a little bothersome with how slowly things move considering how often new chapters come out. I understand it updating slow and it's important to what's great about this story that it keep moving at this pace, but together it leaves me feeling annoyed whenever I finish a chapter. This chapter is different though. Things actually happen in this chapter and we're given more to see. It has the perfect balance of the inner dialogue that drives the story and the description of the events, sights, sounds, people, and ponies. After a chapter that takes place in a single boring location between a hill and a river and more recently a chapter taking place almost entirely in a small bathroom it's nice to get out in the sky and see some sights.
881767
there's a FO:E side fic I know of that more directly rips off the matrix. I'm not seeing as much of a parallel here though.
883746
I never got that impression. It's more that the character has memories from two lives but any time any from the pony life creeps in s/he panics and tries to think of something else. So what we're given here is the question of which is the real set of memories or if they're both real. One of those options seems unlikely now though considering the amount of background information on the human memories we were just given, in some way those memories are real. There's plenty to speculate on that, like maybe this poor little unicorn was doing a magical experiment involving memory loss in humans and somehow both a human's personality and memories were merged with hers. Though we were given a hint that maybe certain details of the apartment are off. Maybe his mind was merged with the inhabitant of the same apartment in a parallel world. There are infinite possibilities here until the story progresses more, but it's a bit of a jump to say that the human memories are being replaced. They seem to exist side by side no matter which is real.
I must say, this is quite a fantastic story! It is well written, well thought out, thought provoking, funny, and very clever. Bravo.
Now comes the hardest part of reading incomplete fanfics. Waiting.
I bet the language she can't understand is English and she's been speaking Equestrian.
883922
Well, true... But this is anyways leads to a situation as in that fanfic about Celestia being a human in a mental clinic. Which one of "you" are truly real? Which one should you "kill" in order to bring back mental stability? And what if your choose will be wrong?
But yes, I maybe jumped to conclusions too fast, but after all, Rosy starts to talks and thinks as a pony even before she come out of her (his? Probably, why would pony live in appartaments suited for a human?) home. And, if I remembered correctly, even before first pony flashback. I don't think that it is "just memories".
I think this is my favorite chapter yet.
The only suggestion I would have is moving the flying illustration a bit earlier in the story or having one done to show how the protagonist is harnessed up and ready to go between the two Pegasi. The illustration really pulls the descriptions together.
mental change, huh? thats it, im out. un-favorite
882699
"My pears" was just something in my mind that made it so funny, considering that she had troubles getting them eaten boosted the mental image.
And for the memories... yes, they're good/hilarious memories. Like with the "I bought his car for a meager sum" reminds me when my brother bought my grandmothers old (and awesome) Volvo for 2€.
882713
In Rosy's case, a "trip down memory lane" is more like she trips on a rock and faceplants into the sharp gravel of memory lane.
...Wow, that was a grim interpretation of that turn of phrase.
884268
Maybe. It would be interesting, certainly. Although Ampoule speaks French once, so maybe it's that. Also, I may be mistaken, but I'm pretty sure the author is Finnish, and since it started as a self-insert, perhaps they're speaking another language from the region that (s)he (maybe?) doesn't understand, like Swedish or Russian.
I love stories that mess with the main characters mind. I find it quite interesting but it does require alot of focus to right and you might need to know someone whose gone through a phase like that. This story is going great so far so here take a moustache.
I just want to know how MC got turned into a pony.
Until this is explained, I'm just going to believe this is secretly a TCB fic, and that somebody slipped him a cherry-potion in his sleep.
emotibot.net/pix/111.jpg
FIRST PONY VIEW IS ON EQUESTRIA DAILY!
Congratulations! Also, expect an influx of new readers!
742857 It's a nice yogurt-colored pink.
Equestria Daily!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It finally got onto EQD!
884835
I doubt that this story will end with: "Whelp I'm actually a mare. Who's this human guy that I've been thinking about? He doesn't exist at all he was just my imagination." But the main drive of this story is for MC to fight against such changes.
883622
That's possibly true that his memories can't be hidden so well they are irretrievable; however, she may fool the doctors IF they don't scrutinize her behavior with extreme diligence. Then again, we know very little of this world. Maybe it's quite common for ponies to suddenly have two personalities stuck inside one body, and maybe there's a remedy for it. Now, what would that remedy be? Would they simply beam magic at her and then MC is back in his own body and world? That'd be quite nice for both characters, but ultimately an anticlimax that would dissatiate the audience, especially if it leaves so much of this new world unexplored. If there was no way to separate the characters, then a comprimise has to be made. Since Rosy most likely has a life of her own, the MC may have to take on her role and abandon his own. How successfull that is depends on the efficieny of the treatment and her willingness to cooperate. We also can't dismiss the notion that what has happened to Rosy may be an unprecedented occurrence of which there are no records nor references, and that the doctors may estimate that she's suffering of a severe personality delusion instead of trusting her words. As of the moment, there are numerous variables and scenarios to consider, each which can completely discredit any theory we propose.
We can assume that original Rosy Stripes has always existed as herself, and all of a sudden she no longer identifies herself as mare. A doctor who becomes aware of that may wonder why Rosy doesn't behave like a pony. Perhaps she has to be examined head trauma, or review her medical history for any past psychological issues in order to compile a picture of what she may be currently experiencing. That brings up to my mind another thing. What if Rosy truly is delusional? That her being a male human, her friends, parents, pony-less world and so on was nothing more but an extremely elaborate forgery her own broken mind has produced? We're seeing things from her perspective, after all, and she can be an unreliable narrator without her own knowing.
Anyhow, what would be the very ideal path for him/her, and what is that what the audience in general expect? Do we want to see her get out from the hospital without arising too much suspicion so (s)he can continue her quest of putting things back to how they were?
883746
And here we have another point to ponder on: a slow transition from male to mare. How it takes a little from there, then here, until nothing more is left but a bonafide mare. I can see that as being scary, and if Rosy doesn't or can't get help to stop the effects from the hospital, that would only make her more anxious. If the hospital can only provide the means to hasten the change, then she'd definitely disagree on accepting the mental healing.
883922
As much as I love to show what Rosy ponders on and limit the chapters to one location, it was about time she covered some ground (through the air). Funny that this chapter was essentially limited to her being on a stretcher. Anyway, we will definitely continue to see how her mind works, but now that she'll be in the presence of other individuals who may constantly interact with her, she has less freedom to sink into her mentations.
884082
For all of us, I hope you don't have to wait for too long. I've learned a few things from writing the ninth chapter that may be of a positive contribution to my writing skills.
884268
Interesting. She definitely did understand Marcus. Does that mean he spoke Equestrian?
884662
Glad you enjoyed the chapter.
As for the illustration, I received two, and placed them where I thought they best reflected the narration.
884835
Oh . . . you didn't see that coming? Rosy's been apparently changing gradually ever since chapter three. Well,
885161
Haha! That's an awesome purchase, if one can even call it a purchase.
885224
may be mistaken, but I'm pretty sure the author is Finnish, and since it started as a self-insert, perhaps they're speaking another language from the region that (s)he (maybe?) doesn't understand, like Swedish or Russian.
It was (perhaps poorly) implied that both ponies spoke French, which is a language Rosy recognizes but can't speak nor understand. Since Rosy shares some aspects of myself still, she could be proficient in more than one language; however, I'm undecided on having her speaking or thinking in a language that's not identifiable as English to us.
886160
Hehehe, maybe Rosy wants to have a little hair under her nose? Or . . . She already got quite a lot of hair all over herself, so perhaps a mustache is not quite the appropriate symbol of masculinity she'd want.
Anyway, while I have no personal experience of waking up as something I am not but am becoming slowly, I shouldn't let that stop me. I got a good imagination, which will help me quite a lot in writing this story.
886162
Even if that were the case, would she not have seen Celestia and Luna in a dream, and not have odd and distressing memories and allusions of always being a mare?
886827
887179
886918
.
Strawberry yogurt pink. The next time I buy shirts from WLF, I'll buy that shirt and in that color. No question about it
887455
I still love it how I created that entire sequence. Small clues here and there, until the very final line of the chapter assembles the final piece into a (literal) picture for the audience.
887617
Oh, that little pineapple trip was quite fun to write. Oh, what did she eat, many of us still wonder. So does she, but I got some plans on how to expose pertinent info in a future chapter.
887637 Yeh. Character seems very highly unstable mentally
. I also don't know whether to say him or her now. Also I was up all night reading this that I only got 2 hours sleep. Don't know whether to thank you or 'thank you' (sarcastically) 
So I've finally finished reading through. I've got to say that I really enjoy the images, they help solidfy the characters and scene, and they're well done to boot. (I recognize some of the photoshop effects in that last one)
This latest chapter is the best chapter yet. It's a welcome change of pace for the narration to describe the physical landscape rather than the cyclical mental landscape. The plot also seems to be picking up the pace, which is nice to see. It's good to see the aforementioned Jim actually explained.
The plot is thick enough that I can't really guess accurately at what's going on (what has happened to lead to the initial situation). Quite like this so far!
884388
You don't need to kill any of the personalities.
Oh, by the way, can you contemplate the possibility of awaking one day as a mare yourself? It's a quite interesting thought experiment - what you would think and do in the same situation poor Rosy found himself that morning.
886827
>IE
Ewwww! Why?
I'll repeat my analysis from a previous comment... BRILLIANT. The last chapters have been a bit slow compared to my normal tastes, but the character development is SO GOOD. I just want to keep reading.
Related: we need a :rainbowread: emoticon. Stat.
887656
.
She's unhinged to some degree, yeah. That's what tends to happen when someone is trusted into a body they're not familiar with yet seemingly becoming what that body is. I guess as long as the MC thinks he's a he, he is perhaps on the sane side of life. Or not. It depends on the perspective, I suppose.
Anyway, I take your 'thank you' as a compliment regardless of the tone you used
887668
The illustrations are undeniably superb. Many times have I admired them, and paper pony definitely improves with every image he draws. It's comparable to how I'm (hopefully) improving as an author.
I wasn't quite sure I was doing the right thing with this chapter, especially with exploring the MC's past, so knowing that this chapter has earned a good status in your opinion is very reassuring and pleasing. With this story now garnering so much attention from here and EqD, I must work hard to ensure the quality of the story doesn't drop.
The MC's heading for the hospital, and that's, for a lack of better expression, a hornet's nest. It's also an opportunity to explore the titillating topic of magical ponies coexisting with humans in a modern world. We may also wish that the MC doesn't lose his nerve, or attract the kind of attention he does not seek to receive.
887905
I thank you greatly for the kind words! I truly hope to excel, especially now that the upcoming chapters may show something so much more than just the MC pondering on himself.
And I wholly agree on that emoticon.
P.S Look at the stats! A steady number below 50 for a week, and now it has soared to be above 1,000! It's almost unbelievable!
888007 I meant I dont know whether to be sacarstic or not :P I've got really high expectations of where this goes and I reckon this shall be good. I would've laughed my ass of if this ever happened to me then I would go insane
. Nonetheless can't wait for next chapter and should shutup so you can get it done lol. (Hope that doesn't sound pushy).