Mixing It Up
First Pony View
A My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic fan fic
By Suomibrony
Chapter 16
Mixing It Up
“Hmmh.” Night Light's countenance transitioned from bemusement to a despising frown. “Treatin' a patient as a friend ain't unusual, Embee,” she said without a trace of sympathy.
Her frankness shocked me. ‘Is she for real? She can't possibly disapprove—’
“It's lovely!” Night Light declared.
‘Oh . . . Never mind.’
“In fact,” she continued, “didn't ya spend almost three hours with a little colt who'd injured both his wings tryin' to fly from one apartment to another where his friend was, and he was worried he'd never fly again? Oh no, no need ta answer; I already know ya did! That was so sweet of you, keepin' yer wing over him and talkin' with him till he dozed off, all peaceful and happy-like.”
A modest blush colored Embee's cheeks. “Me being me.”
My mind was busy digesting the info gained from the chit-chat as Night Light went on, “Oh, I ran into Ampoule, and we talked for a bit. Get this: he had some 'insight' about culture. He reckons that learnin' the language is the key ta learnin' the culture.” A sly smile spread over her lips. “If'n ya ask me, I think he's just too embarrassed to admit he's fawnin' over his girlfriend,” she whispered, giggling a bit. Embee, however, wasn't amused. “Don't give me that look. He roped ya into learnin' the basics of the language, and ya spent a week beatin' yourself in the head over it. Say whatcha want 'bout poker, he beat ya fair an' square. Anyhow, he also said that a language has proverbs, metaphors, and expressions formed and developed through millennia, so when ya know the language, ya know the culture! Ain't that amazin'?”
I felt like leaping into the conversation, but I chose not to. Night Light continued, “Sorry, listen ta me, talkin' your ear off like it's my favorite hobby, hahahahaa!” The jaunty earth pony's focus shifted to me as she walked further into the room, smiling like nothing weighed on her mind. “So, who's the gir . . . uh?” She stopped in her tracks, mouth dropping slightly ajar. “Oh dear golly . . .” she said in astonishment, her wide-open eyes surveying me as if I were clad in neon signs. She may've seen my blank flank. Maybe that was the cause? What would I say if she asked? That I was a late bloomer? I could at least try to see her cutie mark. Or not. The saddlebag and angle we stood at meant that I didn't have a line of sight on hers. When her focus returned to my face, she coughed up an unexpected laugh. “I saw you had a few smudges here and there.” She raised her forehoof to casually point its tip at me; apparently I had some grime on my chest—or whatever the area ahead of the sternum was called. “But I didn't realize you were that filthy. Did ya take a bath in a muddy ditch or somethin'?”
I wasn't pleased by her flippant presumption. “Oooh nooo, not a ditch, but a river, where I nearly drowned,” I answered in a mocking singsong voice. “It was . . . It was fun,” I finished dolorously. This wasn't my body and I had nearly gotten it killed. Twice! What a terrible disgrace! Oh no, I couldn't start crying . . .
“Uhh . . .” Night Light stammered as I carefully checked that my shame and grief weren't opening my tear ducts. “I'm . . .” Contriteness creased her countenance. “Sorry?” Then it turned into genuine concern. “You okay?”
“As in healthy?” I cleared my throat, stabilizing my tone. “Sure am. Don't worry, I only had an accident.” If the only means of escape off a cliff could be called that. Anyhow, there was no need to tell her the entire story. “The worst is behind me now, and I'm getting better. Just still in shock, that's all.” I willed a smile, turning my attention to Embee. She looked pensive. I didn't think deeply on it. “So, as much as I prefer not to sleep in a hospital, can you please lead the way?” A command in my head said to point a finger toward the hallway. Naturally, this meant I held a hoof toward it. I assured myself that the promise of sleep would keep my recurring equine incompatibilities, and related concerns, to a minimum.
“Whoa there, hang on now!” Night Light briskly strolled to Embee, effectively blocking our path. I had a direct view of her side now; her cutie mark was a clipboard illuminated by a lantern. “If'n you've been in the break room with this here patient, then she's already been discharged, right?”
“I'm right here,” I mumbled, a little annoyed that she was talking to Embee about matters pertaining to me. A single "she" wasn't enough to rub me the wrong way. However, feminine pronouns were the least of my concerns if she asked my name.
“Yes.” Embee nodded politely. “Signed and approved.”
“Hmh. Okay.” Night Light cast a brief glance at me, scrutiny and inquiry written on her visage. I pursed my lips, rolling my eyes aside in pretend-haughtiness. “She's been discharged, so why's she needin' a bed?” She laughed in the manner that implied some form of nervousness; I once again felt disgruntled. Was it too much to ask that she speak to me? “Ya know the rules, Embee. This ain't no hotel. I know ya care a lot 'bout the patients, and that really is amazin', but we can't go grantin' beds ta ponies when they're lookin' grimy and weary.” Another glance of examination my way. “From what I can tell, she needs a shower, but she's gonna have to find someplace else ta sleep.” After her adamant statement, her gaze returned to me. I was trying to contain my minor indignation in a ball of apathy. Moreover, the pronouns didn't mean I was any less of a male to myself. “Has your family, next of kin, or friends been notified of your situation?” she asked in evident concern, rotating to be in line with me. Yay for no longer treating me like chopped liver.
“No, nopony knows, and I don't have anypony here . . .” Aside from Embee, I was by myself, and being alone felt kind of unpleasant. When in new company, I wasn't confident admitting my more sensitive feelings to myself, let alone showing them. Which I might've already done. “They don't know anything about this, let alone that I'm here, because they . . .” I drew a soft but audible breath, thinking for a moment. “They're pretty far away.” Distance between universes was impossible to calculate. Technically, I was maybe ten to fifteen kilometers from my parents; I had never measured the distance. “I'll tell them what's occurred the next time I see them.” In other words, mum's the word. Nopony would believe me, and being in the form of a cuddly magical pony from a line of toys and cartoons marketed for adolescent gir . . . females was a surefire way to earn strange looks, demeaning comments, and at worst, allegations of sexual deviancy and gender confusion. I was being really negative, wasn't I? My parents would refrain from judging me poorly. Hopefully.
“Alright then.” Night Light's conduct changed from circumspect to warm. “Well, ya probably wanna get home. Unless you're homeless.” She laughed lightly; however, she became serious in a blink of an eye. “Oh no! You ain't homeless, are ya?” she said pityingly.
“Wha?” I stuttered for a moment as I powered up my voice. “No, no. I have a home.” It wasn't truly mine, but it was better than nothing.
“You do? Oh good! That's great news!” She cheered up surprisingly swiftly. My mind fell on the concept of homeless ponies. That was truly tragic, but I held no doubt that charitable organizations eagerly provided food, aid, and shelter with no strings attached for those who had fallen on tough times, just like they so kindly did for humans. “So, if you're all ready to go, we can arrange for a taxi to take ya home.”
“Oh?” I whispered, intrigued by the easy return to my sort-of home. I mused whether homeless ponies were offered transportation to Equestria . . . to continue being homeless? Anyhow, I had to voice a relevant complication that had almost instantly become apparent: “Is the taxi service free?” I asked, extremely aware that I lacked a single dime to barter with.
Night Light's solemnity didn't instill me with joy. “Afraid not, sorry.”
“Excuse me,” Embee said to her, then cleared her throat. “Something's come up, but it's confidential. You understand?”
“I understand patient confidentiality,” Night Light replied nonchalantly.
“You also understand that you owe me a favor. Well, I have a request,” Embee spoke equally relaxed, but I got a bit nervous; was Embee going to ask Night Light about mind swaps?
Night Light blinked her eyes. “Now?” she inquired, to which Embee nodded decisively. “Okay . . .” Nonplussed, my brain was in a flurry over the possible outcomes of their dialogue, and a flight reaction prepared me in the event that things took a nosedive. Of course, if the plane had gone into a spin, it was corrected by . . . setting throttle to idle, keeping the nose down, and countering the spin with the rudder, then increasing throttle and leveling out once longitudinal rotation was controlled. I didn't need to worry; I trusted Embee knew what she was doing. “Uhh . . . hum.” Night Light stole a glance over her back. Nopony was out in the hallway, but I did hear a faint din of indiscernible talking. “What can I do for ya?”
“You live just down the street from here.” Embee smiled gently, still as self-assured as before. “How about you hoof over your spare key and let her stay in your home while you work the night shift?”
Notwithstanding Embee, our faces blanked. ‘What? That's quite a demand . . . No, an unreasonable request, and . . . Well, if Night Light complies, then should I not agree as well?’
Night Light's mouth spread into a strained grin with a titter. “Come on, Embee. Be serious.”
“You think I'm not?” Embee replied with apt seriousness, which was replaced by sympathy as she looked my way. I was too bewildered to utter a word, let alone decide if I should smile in reluctant consent or perform a dissuasive headshake. “She's gone through a lot more than meets the eye, and I think a place that's cozier than a hospital bed would help her relax and recover from her shock,” Embee implored to Night Light. She glared at Embee in disbelief, then glanced at me with an obvious desire to hear my input on the matter.
“Yeah, I've gone through a lot and, so, uhm . . .” I let my voice fade to nothing, finding the floor very appealing to my eyes. Never the kind to boldly speak my opinion when negative consequences seemed assured, my body language took the reins and set my ears to full flaps down. My ambiguous disposition must've made Night Light consider me as Embee's subservient accomplice.
“Embee, I know ya mean well and all, but you really oughta think about what you're askin' for. Ya earned one favor from bestin' me in a dance game challenge. That ain't a free pass to force me to do anythin' ya wish, even if it ain't for your benefit.” That was quite an indirect warning to Embee, while also moderately motivating me to do something. I couldn't in good conscience stay in Night Light's home, let alone feel welcome if she had given her consent through gritted teeth.
“Um, well . . .” I whispered so quietly I wasn't sure I had said a thing. Thinking I could give a visual cue, I looked at Embee. Alas, her head was turned aside and downwards. From my position, I wasn't able to read her expression. I did surmise she was in her thoughts, but could I trust her to know what was right? If I reached . . . Oh, I couldn't tug her nonexistent sleeve. I must've subconsciously perceived Embee as equal to a human—and that was a good thing. Regardless, as much as I valued her support, affability, and concern for my well-being, her request was too much. Now, if I could just say that kindly. It felt like it took a minute to scavenge my courage to speak clearly, even though no more than a second or two had passed. I tested my voice box with a light cough. “We don't need to burd—” She flipped her head around so suddenly that I shut up with a hiccup, but I was relieved she wasn't upset or offended in any way, shape, or form. “Haha, you spooked me there,” I noted self-consciously. “Anyhow, um, it's obvious Night Light doesn't want to comply with your request to accommodate me in her home, so I think we, uh, we should respect that.” I put on a conciliatory smile, although a dash of doubt made me question if my equine facial muscles replicated my attempt with perfect fidelity.
“See, Embee, even she understands,” Night Light said with a slightly scolding undertone, nodding at me. With Embee's attention on her presumed friend, I had to rely on her ears to tell me what she was feeling. “She knows what's best for her. And me! And she's being a lot more sensible than you.”
“Hmmh,” I hummed in assumable agreement. ‘Me? Sensible? Yeah, right!’ If anything, my rationality had stalled over a dozen times ever since I took my first steps as a magic-capable female ungulate.
“She don't wanna be in my home if I don't like it, and no offense to either of ya, but I ain't gonna accept a guest on such short notice,” Night Light continued, softening her tone as she spoke.
“None taken,” I interjected; Embee remained silent. I took a step closer to see a part of her face.
Night Light glanced behind herself. The door was still open. Was she going to close it? “Things uh . . . Things have happened,” Embee said during the intermission. Profanities! She wasn't going to spill the beans, was she?
“Yeah, I get that, and whatever's happened, you inform who needs to be informed and fill out a form or two,” Night Light replied, a little flustered. “I take it ya don't wanna drag me into this, but that's exactly what you're doin' by askin' me to house a discharged patient who says she's all fine an' dandy.” She spared me little more than a cursory glance, then gestured at Embee. “Yet you say she's still in shock from nearly drownin'.”
“My shock is passing . . .” I said diffidently, but I was ignored. “And it was I who said I nearly drowned,” I added so quietly my lips barely moved.
“Just 'cause she'd feel cozy in my home ain't enough to win me over. Unless one of ya tells me what's goin' on, I can't take your silly request seriously.” The silence that ensued was broken only by nonspecific noises from the bowels of the hospital. “So, what's it gonna be? Tell me or don't tell me? I ain't got all night,” she said, glancing at us both, although I could sense from her tone that she wasn't really interested in what we were hiding. I considered pulling out the pineapple ruse, but reticence prevailed. While I waited for Embee to make the call, I presumed she hadn't considered that Night Light would decline taking a total stranger—me—into her home. Not so firmly and bluntly, anyhow. Compared to me, Embee had behaved in a nearly flawless manner, so . . . I still wasn't understanding her misjudgement. Then, I recalled what had happened in the office, and I realized that I didn't know what Embee was like. Perhaps her empathy was about helping those whom she perceived to need help more than placing herself in another pony's hooves? I really didn't know, and my mind was becoming dulled.
“Alright, alright,” Embee eventually said, sounding both resigned and resolute. “I was wrong. You're right.” She looked over at me with a sad frown, as if apologizing for failing me. Before I had a chance to say anything, her attention returned, with a sigh, to her colleague. “You're both right, and I'm very sorry.” She humbly inclined her head, with her ears following suit. “I really don't know what came over me. Ah, I'll ask for a favor some other time, for something else,” she said ruefully, a slight stammer creeping into her tone. She was taking this harder than I had predicted. I needed to boost her confidence somehow, but . . . I didn't know how!
“Yeah, somethin' less ridiculous,” Night Light added pointedly. I furrowed my brows in disapproval at her impudence. “Besides, she . . . I'm sorry, miss, I didn't catch your name.”
Her politeness didn't fully prevent my irritation from getting the better of me. “Sorry, not telling you.”
“Uh, okay?” A slightly stymied Night Light soon gave Embee a curious look. “Do you know her name?” Of course, if I didn't speak my name, Embee would.
She sighed through her nose. “I do, but if she doesn't want to give her name, then I'll honor her wish.” Leaving my responsibility to myself was sort of okay, I supposed.
“O . . . kay then?” Embee's reluctance seemed to dumbfound Night Light, as the earth pony's brown eyes drifted over to me. “Are ya sure you don't wanna tell me yer name?”
“I'm sure,” I replied without hesitation, hiding my apprehension with a cool demeanor. If I did something wrong, she'd sense that I wasn't a true pony, and then I'd be in a pickle.
“Alright.” A small smile curved her lips. “I'm Night Light.” She showed me the underside of her forehoof. “Pleased to make yer acquaintance.” Heeding an assumption and hoping to minimize any suspicions she had, I held mine to hers. She promptly gave it a light bump, and her smile spread. Just to be safe, I replicated it, though it felt strained. I hoped it didn't show.
“Likewise,” I said cordially, feeling I had averted disaster as we both dropped our hooves. To her credit, introducing herself so that I'd introduce myself was cunning, but as small as a name was, I couldn't let Night Light believe and spread that lie. I composed myself and devised a little something that, hopefully, would defuse the dawning tension. “Dear Night Light, I hold nothing against you, and I hope you hold nothing against me. As normal and expected as it would be to kindly introduce myself, I wish not to reveal my name. I don't ask you to understand why, and I can't answer if you ask me why. I’m sorry, but I only ask that you respect my decision.” The peaceable delivery sounded pleasantly silky, which wasn't so bad, apart from the fact it came from my mouth.
Night Light's face relayed disappointment. “Have it yer way then, missy,” she desisted curtly. I sensed she would get back at me somehow. “You don't wanna tell me your name, fine, but I gotta call you somethin’, so . . .” Her face lit up with glee. “I can just call ya 'Missy'!”
“Wh-what?” Surprise surged through my vessels. “Uh, I mean . . .” I didn't want to accept the nickname, nor did I want to stir up conflict. I put on a nonchalant face and looked her in the eye. “Yeah, I can live with that.”
“Alright! Missy it is!” she said with so much delight that I . . . No. Rather than follow my frown with a retort I'd regret, I shifted my sights to the left wall. I was annoyed by being called "Missy", and annoyed that I was annoyed by it, but also rethinking the necessity of my female guise. Alas, breaking it now would introduce a variable whose disposition I hadn't adequately determined. While I gazed at the wall, I believed I heard Embee quietly berate Night Light. At least my right ear had cranked around, so what I heard must've been real instead of imagined; I wasn't the kind to hear voices in my head other than my own. “Well, as I was sayin', you’ve got a home, and . . . hum? That's a house key, ain' it?”
“Hm?” I cocked a brow at Night Light. ‘The what now? A key on me? Oh, right!’ I had almost forgotten the source of the easily-ignored sensation on my nape and beneath my throat. “Sure is,” I affirmed simply. I had smartly collected my keys before I left my sort-of home. I also had a vague recollection of being inside a very familiar automobile earlier today, but I was sure I hadn't driven it anywhere. I hoped I hadn't! Darn canned pineapples and something in them that disrupted my . . . magic frequency? Whatever it was, it wasn't good for me. How could I have driven, though? This body lacked the dexterity and dimensions to use both the wheel and pedals. Then what did I . . . Rosy do with a car if driving was unfeasible?
“Unicorn with a house key? That's a house key?” Night Light mumbled, peering at me investigatively. I almost asked if it was odd for a unicorn to have a key. “Nmh, whatever. Ain’t my concern.” Following her nonchalant hoof throw, she whipped her head to Embee. “But hey. You're my friend and all, and I do a lot for ya when asked. But this idea ya had? I can't get it outta my head. I mean, what were ya thinking? You normally ain’t like this.”
I was in for a bit of a surprise when Embee sighed and gingerly facehoofed, a posture she held for several seconds. “I'm not sure. I must've thought I had a great idea,” she whispered as her hoof came off her face. “I'm sorry, Night Light. This day must've worn me out more than I thought.” My ears sagged in guilt and sympathy; I wouldn't have exhausted her if I hadn't dawdled on everything.
Night Light said casually, “It's okay, Embee. You're still my friend, and ya do look a bit tired. I suggest ya got get some sleep before ya contract eye circles.” She laughed lightly. Whether she was subtly mocking Embee or kindly teasing her was hard to deduce, especially as Embee sported a smile, albeit a lean one. “You also look like ya need a bit of shut eye,” Night Light said to me, interrupting my guess on how healthy their friendship actually was. “Yer the third pony I've seen in the last ten minutes that's lookin' worn out.” It dawned on me that if it weren't for that accent of hers, Night Light's voice would be even a closer match to the stealthy female from Red Faction 2—a lackluster game compared to the original. “Anyhow, I don't know what else ya've gone through today, and I suppose tryin' to pry won't garner nothin', but . . ." she paused as her muzzle scrunched with a sniff, "Ehh. No offense, Missy, but ya got a, uh, loamy aroma about ya, as my pa used to say. Have ya thought about showerin'?” I'd better get used to that nickname for as long as we were talking.
“Maybe I'll shower, maybe I won't. It's hard to say anything conclusive yet.” I let my hoof migrate to my jaw. Taking a shower as a pony wasn't appealing in the slightest. Nonetheless, I had to be mentally prepared. I tossed my tail lazily as I relaxed my forelimb, both of which reminded me how much I still had to make sense of. It wasn't sensible to imagine applying a magic-enshrouded brush to my coat, standing petrified and staring in depressed resignation at nothing as each stroke swept away more of my dignity. Perhaps it would be less torture if I were sitting? “I'll think about showering once things have normalized,” I said to reassure myself, and to ensure that apprehension hadn't, and wouldn't, invade my voice. My ears remained upright, and neither mare looked like they were going to inquire about my state of mind.
“Sounds good to me,” Night Light said, casting some validity to my assumption. “But I gotta say, I think your coat’ll be nothin’ short of lustrous once all that dirt comes off.”
“Lustrous?” I repeated tepidly, knowing full well she had spoken a compliment. I was leery of saying more, daunted by the notion of catalyzing the topic to conditioners, coat care, primming up etc. Basically, I was afraid to engage in filly talk, where my total lack of experience would guarantee me much embarrassment and humiliation.
“Yeah. Dazzling. Stunning. Beautiful.” She smiled. I didn't. Not only was I hoping to end this topic through reticence, the synonyms had now spurred my imagination to depict my current form as a Rarity mock-up. If it ever came to settling for some kind of style, that wasn't it. I preferred simple and casual, for starters. Night Light continued to stare at me with a spark of inspiration glistening in her eyes; I stared back with blank disinterest. “You know, to have a pretty coat and mane,” she said as I watched her teal hoof point at my respective anatomy. Or was she more blue than teal? “Ya’d look absolutely lovely.”
Expressing my mild agitation in its purest form would be unwise. “Hmm . . .” I hummed thoughtfully as a pretext to soften my voice. “So, Night Light, if I were to look lovely, would you fall in love with me?” I cooed, throwing some (presumably) demure body language for effect.
Night Light promptly broke into a hearty guffaw. “Only if I were into mares, ya foxy miss!” she rebutted, slashing her hoof vertically like a claw, sporting a daring grin that exposed her teeth. Foxy miss? It could've been a lot worse, but nevertheless, the moniker and her unabashed response weren't instilling me with confidence. While I did what I could to keep a cool demeanor, her expression softened into a lax smile beneath . . . bedroom eyes? “Or maybe I actually am into mares, did ya think of that?” she whispered, coquettishly closing the small gap without a trace of hesitation. Overwhelmed by the confusion of this development, my mouth dropped a little. An operational part of my brain favored producing and then furiously waving a stop sign in her face. “When the time's right, when ya’ve normalized, and when I'm rarin’ for a certain special kinda bliss, how ‘bout we, hum, get a bit dirty together?” Centimeters from my face, she softly double-clicked her tongue and fluttered her eyes; I felt her gentle breath twirl in my nostrils. “Whad’ya say to that, Miss Foxy?” I stared at her, trying to do the thinking thing that made the smart thinking happen. Once the cogs in my brain got free, I backed away with a burst of nervous laughter.
“Okay, that's enough. You've had your fun,” Embee spoke up, shooting me a worried glance before locking her stern gaze back on Night Light. “For crying out loud, you're creeping her out.”
“Creepin’ her out? Ya kiddin’ me? She's embarrassed, not creeped out.” Night Light pointed at me, unfazed by Embee's scolding.
I had collapsed onto my hindquarters, my equine face and limbs having proved no deterrent for my forehooves to do their best at the adjoined-fingers-over-mouth gesture. Still unsure what had transpired within my head, my breaths were tinged with laughter. “Oh gosh, what the hay?” As jumbled up as my gray matter was, it posited that Night Light had enacted a bit of vengeance for my refusal to reveal my name.
“Yep, totally embarrassed,” she stated. “Red cheeks and all.” I spied a bespectacled dark-haired man stop outside the doorway, casting a bemused look at us before shrugging and continuing on.
Embee seemed to relent. “You incurable prankster,” she said blithely as she shook her head, then tilted it. “And you told me to be serious.”
“Don't go gettin’ your feathers all ruffled and start actin’ all 'professional' on me,” Night Light defied leisurely. “It really don’t apply to me since my shift ain’t even started. Don't forget that you're not above doing little harmless pranks yourself.” I may've been in a bit of a tizzy, but I was sure Embee's face flushed. I felt that Night Light was being hypocritical with the whole "act professional" thing. “Besides, respondin’ playfully ain't hurtin' nopony. Just look at her, she ain't upset one bit.” Their attention turned to me right as a sound not much unlike a nicker escaped me. Was that how I tittered? A nugget of dismay insinuated that my laughter wasn't as it used to be. I imagined my voice box as a literal cardboard box with the Venus symbol crudely painted on it, paired with an equally crude arrow-shaped sign pointing at it and stating, "Explanation, darnit".
Meanwhile, Embee conjured thoughts of her own, furrowing her eyebrows at her friend in presumed dislike at her jaunty attitude. The unspoken rebuke evinced a sigh from Night Light. “So, ya feelin’ okay?” she asked me, mirth still in her voice and expression. With my forehooves now back on the floor, I spied Embee raising an eyebrow in curious dubitation. Night Light rolled her eyes at Embee, huffing lightly. “You're not offended, upset, shocked, or somethin’ to that effect?” she continued insipidly.
“Nah, I'm fine. Jokes are jokes, and it's all fun and games as long as they're harmless, and this one was harmless,” I said as I laboured to get myself up, thinking how to wrap my mind around what happened instead of letting my quadrupedalism disrupt my upbeat mood. “It was funny in hindsight, because I didn't expect you to, umm . . .”
“Come on to ya?” Night Light helped when it became apparent I wasn't finding the words.
“Ahh . . . Yes.” I smiled self-consciously, looking aside as my ears took a horizontal position. “I thought you'd, uh, you'd back out in shock or disgust, but you did the opposite.” I flicked my eyes at her, where they lingered for a few seconds. “You were direct, open, and unabashed, so . . . yeah.” How many would react with offense to an apparent approach from the same sex? How many would go beyond the acceptable and react with violence? Those who were thin-skinned, I presumed.
“Don' worry 'bout it.” She chuckled casually. Sufficiently relieved, I found the willpower to turn my head. “Not everypony's swingin’ both ways like I am.” She . . . just boldly admitted to being bisexual? Wow! That was ear-prickingly brave! “It was clear to me that your flirtin’ was just for giggles, though.”
“Yeah, that's right, I'm straight,” I affirmed nonchalantly—Oh profanities! “Uh, sort of . . . ish.” What a mistimed moment to reconsider where I stood on the Kinsey Scale!
“You mean, ya have doubts?” Night Light asked, becoming sincere. “Or . . . I hope this ain’t true, but have ya been pressured to keep your sexuality a secret?” She glanced over her back; the hallway was empty. Embee strolled out to take a look, ostensibly confirming our relative solitude and privacy before returning. We were now standing in a triangle, and I hadn't thought of a single thing.
“No, I don't have . . . er, I haven't . . . I mean, yes. Or no. I'm not sure. Well, I'm not really into . . . into the, um.” I chose to mute myself before I nervously stammered out something blatantly honest. ‘I'm not into ponies in the romantic or erotic sense, and, actually I'm not into the whole sex thing either,’ I finished the sentence in my head. Had I said that, I would've made things much more complicated. How much could I say of myself without making it apparent I wasn't a genuine mare? Night Light was bi, so she couldn't possibly be prejudiced and skeptical. Could she? It'd be tragically ironic if she was. I had less faith in convincing her of my humanity, and now wasn't a good time to reveal my true gender. Anyhow, I had a mare's body; I naturally identified as a guy; as weak as my libido was, I was sure my preference was for females; and lastly, ponies shared enough humanlike aspects to qualify as humans in my subconscious. So, with all those accounted, if I were to state and express interest toward mares, what would that make me? To her I would be lesbian, but what I would I be to myself? Oh, this puzzle was too massive for my tired head to solve.
“Hey, listen,” Embee's intervention started as a whisper, drawing our attention. “I know your intentions are good, but I think you're only putting her in a tight spot,” she reasoned with Night Light.
I saw an opening to remove myself from the potentially difficult discourse. “I agree. You obviously care about my . . . about how I feel on the inside, and that I don't submit to what I'm expected to be like.” How poignant. “I'm sorry that we have to cut this short. Embee and I got places to be, and talking about, uh, sexuality is an awkward topic for me anyhow, so let's drop it. Please?” I beseeched conciliatorily. If I ever let on that intercourse disturbed me profoundly . . . I wasn't devoid of romantic feelings, but . . . What kind of intimate relationship worked without intercourse? A guy who wasn't getting any action was typically seen as a loser, but what was a guy who wasn't interested in the action at all? Celibate? That was commonly associated with religious vows, and I was agnostic.
“Sure thing. Dropped,” Night Light stated, lightly striking her forehoof to the floor.
“Thanks.” Stunned and a little pensive, I barely got my voice above single decibels.
“Don't mention it.” She produced a small smile, but the disappointment and sadness of resignation was in her eyes. I felt like I had denied her the chance of helping me out of my (assumed) sexual conformity.
“So, Embee?” Night Light said, and I swear she sounded a little morose. “You could, I dunno, pay for her taxi ride? You know, when she goes home?” A free taxi ride? That would be most excellent! If Embee's smile was of any proof, she was agreeing with the proposal. “Maybe even let her use your perfume?”
“Perf . . . um?” My inchoate smile was replaced by blank shock, shortly followed by a vision of my present form effusing varieties of scents in the shape of wavy trails and rose petals, myself traipsing gracefully and carefree—and producing heart shapes in the eyes of every stallion unfortunate enough to be caught in my wake. I got my smile up and running before the true pony females caught on to my apprehension. “You mean, deodorant?” I indirectly asked for confirmation for my supposition. I had no doubt I could employ several methods to dissuade any stallion (or mare) unlucky enough to take genuine interest in me. Also, perfume was the aromatic version of a sundress and high heels. Granted, I was a male and therefore unlikely to wear either item, but my current sex hadn't kindled my mind—especially towards high heels. They were scientifically proven to be harmful, and were impractical as well. Deodorant, however, was equivalent to a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Unless it was an explicitly feminine deodorant, in which case the t-shirt was hot pink with "XX chromosome power!" written on it and the jeans weren't loose fit.
“No worries, hon. I have both perfume and deodorant. If you wanna use one or both, I don't mind lendin’ them to ya.” The provided info and Embee's calm smile helped me overcome the remainder of my apprehensions.
“I respect your offer. Thank you. In case personal hygiene becomes an acute issue, I may ask for what you have available.” I would've voiced my disinterest in perfumes, but I didn't wish to infringe a female code I was unaware of.
Night Light giggled for some reason while a cursory presumption emerged in my mind: Applejack and Rainbow Dash might touch a perfume bottle once or twice a year—to Rarity's dismay. Or by her desperate behest. “I don't know you, Missy, but I think you're good with words,” Night Light merrily remarked, which I took as a compliment. “You don't have the flair or accent, but I'm wonderin', do ya hail from Canterlot?”
“Uh, no,” I replied swiftly, a touch surprised. Of course, every locale had its own customs and culture, and I was certain that Equestria wasn't culturally homogenous, just like I was certain that I . . . Rosy wasn't from Canterlot.
“Hmh, okay. I had this picture in my head that unicorns from Canterlot are usually needlessly formal wordsmiths. Never been there myself. My mother says that they're snooty prigs, but I'm sure they're all fine and kind.” I didn't laugh with her, though I tried. I would've been worried about my overall conduct not being inherently mine, but unlike memories, a name, and definable ponyisms, separating virtually identical traits was next to impossible. Fright threatened to envelop me, but resignation and subsequent acceptance quickly reduced it to a tepid ember. After all, if the traits are identical, then why should I worry? Taking a brief look at my hoof, I thought that maybe we weren't so different in some other respects. Kind of like having a parallel universe version of myself with the same humble home, same relic of a car, same overthinking—
“Heeeey,” Night Light drawled abruptly. “Why so quiet all the sudden? Did I say somethin’ wrong? I know I sometimes say stupid stuff, but ain't no reason to give me the silent treatment.” Heeding an inkling, I turned my attention to Embee. I caught her thoughtful look, and she caught my diffident expression. She let out a soft breath and drew her lips to a warm smile. That was supposed to be reassuring . . . right? “Okay, I really shouldn't get involved with whatever's going on between you two,” Night Light spoke up again, a little frustrated by our strange behavior. “I'm sure it's all sorts of friendly-like and patient confidentiality-like and, heehee, totally not sensual-like. That was a joke, Embee. Stop squintin’ at me. Yeah, I'm just stallin’ you two. My bad. Ah but what I could get involved in is enjoyin’ a cup of coffee. My shift starts in, oh, ten to fifteen, so—” Directing a quick glance toward the kitchen, her outlook changed with a wide-eyed blink to an ear-fallen frown. “Oh please, tell me there's some coffee left for me?” she said in a pleading tone, giving us both earnest looks.
“There's plenty,” I replied distractedly, indifferent to the coffee now that Night Light's earlier remark about unicorns may've given Embee a reason to doubt the truth. Nah! That was a ridiculous supposition sparked by illogical paranoia.
“Great!” Night Light's lips formed a new smile. “Oh? It ain’t decaf, is it?” I detected a hint of dismay in her voice, an assumption which her hanging ears substantiated.
“I'm sorry, Night Light, but it's decaf,” Embee answered consolingly.
Night Light's outlook transitioned from solicitation to sadness, slowly settling on a sullen downward stare. “Peachy,” she muttered, making her way toward the kitchen with a protracted huff. I couldn't tell if she had chosen to derive whatever delight the unideal coffee could offer, or if she now had a score to settle with her colleague.
“Will you and Night Light be okay?” I whispered to Embee. “You two kinda didn't see eye-to-eye a few times, and I am, uh, was worried that might strain your relationship.” Night Light's ears didn't turn, so I presumed she didn't hear us.
“Eh.” Embee's sigh felt orphaned without a shrug; she waited until Night Light was out of sight. “She's happy-go-lucky.” Just like Embee was in Peachy's office, I recalled. “She's too forgiving to hold a grudge for long.” A peripheral glimpse of a person walking past the open door caught my attention, this time reminding me that hospitals never slept, only became a little quieter. With Embee making her way out, I saw fit to follow.
“Okay, who done spilled water all over the floor?” Night Light's unamused voice twirled us around. The earth pony appeared in the doorway not a second later, her frown evidencing she hadn't been rhetorical.
“Sorry, Night Light, that was my fault,” I said, promptly taking the rightful blame.
“Sorry, Night Light, that was my fault,” another voice spoke over mine.
“What?” With my hoof still aimed at myself, I looked over at the second speaker in disbelief. “No, I did. Wait, why’re you . . . ?” We had spoken at the same time, our stances were similar, and I bet even our expressions were exact matches. We cast our collective looks at Night Light. Her mouth was spread open in a frozen laugh, as if she was in a conflict between guffawing at our comedic behavior and demanding a proper answer for her inquiry.
“What in the name of Eques . . . Ah no, no don't bother,” she said lightheartedly, throwing a forehoof. “It don’t matter who did it.” Her smile vanished as she glanced into the kitchen, her eyes unmistakably taking stock of the spatters there. “I'll clean it up anyway.” Her cheeks bulged as she billowed out a breath, whereas I was too stupiefied for thoughts or actions. Her eyes landed on the radio, appraising it for a short moment before taking herself there. In a matter of seconds, she had powered it up and tuned it to a station that, by the first notes I heard, didn’t sound like Radio Nostalgy or whatever; violins played a high-tempo but beautiful melody. However, her adept manipulation of the radio awed me; Embee had been baffled by the device. “Ain’t this Vivaldi's Winter?” Night Light asked elatedly, followed by her starting to trot on the spot to the piece.
“It could be,” I speculated despite her being ostensibly entranced by the audible art. Classical music was very recognizable, but I was poor at connecting the names to pieces and vice versa. I was mesmerized further when she elegantly danced her way back into the kitchen, where the clicking of her hooves continued echoing into my ears. “Classical music is one of the finest genres ever conceived,” I whispered, entranced. Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin, Dvorak, and more; it seemed unlikely that Equestria had those. What else did they not have? Blues? Punk? Heavy Metal? House? Psy-Trance? Didn't punk originate from counterculture, just like rap and rock did? Maybe they did have those genres? For all I knew, the various indigenous cultures here on Earth presented unthought-of musical treasure troves for ponies.
“It sure is nice music.” Embee sounded like she too was captivated; the violins were now playing a much calmer, serene melody. “I'm not sure I've heard this one before. But oh, hey.” She nudged her foreleg into mine. “We better get going before we get lost in the music, okay?”
“Yeah . . . After you, please.” I decided that she should walk out first, as I wanted to get lost in the music for a couple more seconds.
“You know, not everypony's . . .” Embee halted moments after stepping into the hallway. “Oh my!” She wheeled around so quickly her tail stuck out horizontally. “Peachy!” she exclaimed, her brows standing as far up as possible. “Of course!”
“Of course what?” I queried, naturally confused.
“How could I've forgotten?” For the first time since we'd met, Embee's mouth went wide in realization. Her behavior would've been startling if I didn't trust her sanity. I was still confused, though.
I tilted my head. “Forgotten the, um . . . the raincoat?” I guessed with a smidgen of jocularity, feeling exposed now that I made my nakedness apparent. I cast an arbitrary glance to my left, seeing Night Light standing in the kitchen doorway with curiosity written on her face.
“Yes, sure, that as well!” Embee said, dismissing the modesty-enabling attire as a triviality. She then gestured for me to come out into the hallway, and I complied. Shortly after, she punched her hoof into a hole by the door, which then closed. I looked up, spotting the mechanical door closer. It was so far above. “She may know how to help. She works late today, but let's hope we're not too late.” Aiming herself to her left, Embee glanced over her back. I prepared myself for the short walk that I knew was coming. Peachy could help me, somehow, and that was just awesome! “Follow me!” Embee sped off in a hurry.
“Right behind you!” I shouted (or tried to), my eyes affixing to her distancing shape. I was asking for full throttle, but my legs had become unresponsive. With desperation fighting my petrification, I looked down at my right foreleg. “How do I gallop?” I raised my limb as if the answer was there. I wracked my mind, trying to solve my quandary. I knew walking and trotting, but galloping was . . . incomprehensibly complex. So, FR and then . . . my hind leg? Left or right? Darn. The golden success I urgently needed eluded me. I looked ahead, expecting to see Embee waiting for me. What I saw were several doors spaced evenly on both sides of the hallway, wooden chairs with red seats lined against the walls here and there, and the hallway itself ending in a T-junction. But no Embee! Profanities! I had lost her! “Ooohh,” I moaned miserably, staring down the vacant hallway as if my vocalization could summon her.
With the hope that I'd find her or Peachy's office keeping me from spilling tears, I set one hoof before the other. I was determined to reach the junction and from there I'd go . . . left? Oh, never mind. Embee would come soon to check why I wasn't right behind her, or was waiting for me around the corner. Everything was fine. Except for walking. Almost zero sensation, and far from being quiet. If I thought the clacking was loud now, a racket was guaranteed were I to (successfully) gallop or trot. Or canter. Only I was creating noise, which meant that if anypony was nearby, they weren't walking.
Doors were on both sides of the hallway. Embee had sped off, presumably waiting for me right around either corner ahead. Passing a few red chairs, I was a little shocked when I realized their height matched mine; then again, I wasn't holding my head up. These chairs were meant for humans, but might they work for ponies as well? I placed one hoof on a chair before I decided against it. Facing the pale white end of the hallway again, it occurred to me that a small car might fit in here. A British Leyland Mini! What a spontaneous observation mixed in with whimsical fantasy! But really, I would be more than thrilled if I had the opportunity, the permission, and the bravery to commandeer the renowned and recognizable automotive icon. However, my allegiance was, and would always be, to my own car, although it wouldn't fit in here anyhow. Maybe just barely? Just had to work my imagination . . . Oops. Imagination. Not magically start clustering airborne particles into a tenuous wireframe sculpture. Admittedly, this was a brilliant sight, like luminescent white yarn suspended in thin air, but . . . No, I shouldn't be doing this.
The display vanished in a blink of an eye, but with the sight fresh on my mind, it was no challenge to envision the affordable, and strangely adorable, light blue car. With the windshield wipers in motion. W-what was that about? Was Jim trying to tell me a story or what? I didn't speak windshield wiper. I was just tired . . . “Buh,” I vocalized lethargically, returning to reality from my drowsiness-induced inanity. Daunted by the feel of my ears twisting and swaying, I denied myself a brisk head shake that might have exchanged additional weariness for lucidity. “Mwhahm . . .” I stifled a yawn.
The third and final door on the right was open. Voices emanating from the room primed my ears, so I stopped and peeked in as I passed by. Five low-sitting, empty beds were on each side of the room. No, there was a sixth bed behind the white curtain in the far right. That was where the talking was coming from, and neither voice was Embee's. The beds had equal-sized wooden head/foot-boards framed by curved stainless steel, and wheels instead of legs. My presumption of hospital beds as simplistic, unappealing constructs made by the lowest bidder was challenged by these modern and stylish examples. Much like in the break room, the colors here consisted of various hues of brown, and the windows lining the wall at the far end provided a view of the city. By the beds were night stands, each with a lamp so slender they had to be LEDs. Most important of all were the beds themselves. The clean, white sheets, pillows, and blankets tantalized me with promise of respite. So, which one would it be? Find Embee and fight to stay awake, or sneak to the nearest bed and hope for a moment's escape from my present form? Decisions, decisions . . .
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Ah good, things are moving along now. But she/he isnt out of the woods yet
Yay another chapter and stuff is happening. i just had to read it before going to bed no matter it is 2 am now
Come on dude! I literally just finished your last chapter this morning! Oh well, at least I don't have to wait.
The suspense... It's killing me! A generic comment, but true none the less.
How many chapters do you plan on having for this story and do you have any idea when you'll be completely finished? Do you think you actually will finish this story? I really liked the beginning of First Pony View (and I still do enjoy it), but the pace has seemed to slow down considerably.
Oh now she thinks of passing out. On the clean sheets as well!
I'm a little confused how the doctor might help, since he already approved her discharge. They're going to have an interesting time convincing him to second-opinion himself ...
Keep going! ;)
4906430
The way he behaves, I'm not sure he can take himself out of the woods without tripping over a few roots.
4906884
Sleep is the cousin of death
4907197
Lucky coincidence for you.
4907486
It was suspenseful? Well, well.
4908257
I have no idea how many chapters this story will consist, but this story will eventually come to an end. I have some things outlined, and even have thought of whether the end will be the end of FPV or lead to a sequel. The pacing is slow at the moment. Too slow recently. I must think of how to increase the pace without artificially hastening the plot. I believe that were Viv to receive good news and rest well, his mental state will be improved. This should allow him to think rationally and reduce anxiety.
4908556
Well, there are no dirty sheets to pass out on.
Perhaps Embee believes the doctor knows something about body swaps?
4908585
Once again you have a excellent point! in fact I am quite certain that not only could he/she trip over the roots, but slight raises in the ground level as well.
4909333
Four-legged locomotion must be an art in itself. Unfortunately, Viv is no painter.
4909514
Not even with fingerpaint and the chance to make a legitimate mess and call it modern art?
She's doomed
4909524
Perhaps there's a chance Viv sets a new standard for hoofpainting?
4909567
I can see it now
Why a British Leyland? Most of them are rubbish.
4909632
Pehraps he doesn't know of Morris?
4908925 one can't lose anything by asking I suppose.
There are probably sheets with patients in them already, I suppose if she accidentally entered into an occupied bed that would satisfy the dirty sheets requirement. Though perhaps the occupant would not appreciate that so much.....
4909712
I think Viv would never be so tired he would forget to check if a bed he might try to clamber into is occupied.
4909725 yes exactly, wouldn't that be great? Though the story isn't tagged as Comedy it would be nice I think to have someone genuinely upset at her instead of everyone coddling her to death. Though that should probably happen after she awakes....
4909740
The storys not tagged as comedy, but fortunately, that doesn't bar anything funny from happening.
As for someone getting cross with him... If that happens, hopefully he doesn't make the situation worse.
I love how you've drawn everything out. It really feels like the story is happening in real time, and it lets you get into her (his) thoughts. On the other hand, it's not a boring kind of drawn out. It's tricky to maintain interest when you do that, and you've done that brilliantly with this story.
A piece of art I noticed drew me in from elsewhere and though I rarely read fan-fiction, let alone those that involve humanity in some form, the idea was intriguing in that it wasn't entirely a wish fulfillment scenario as so many others are. Though admittedly a tad bit overdone in verbosity and tangential strings in some areas, the flow and draw has been enough to keep me occupied with all my free time in the evenings to do nothing but read. I am now regrettably caught up to the point where I realised it wasn't a completed product yet. I do so hope that it will be continued and look forward to the conclusion while I kick my fountain of patience into gear for new chapters to arrive.
Cliff notes, what happened?
I agree with kdalips. This story is good, but it's still a little too slow, and there's still so much we don't know yet.
4911529
Maintaining the balance is very tricky, and I think I haven't done too well lately; a couple of the chapters before the latest were criticized for being too drawn out. That the newest chapter evidently avoid that pitfall is very fortunate and welcome. Still, the intimate look into his mind is probably one of the primary features of this story. A raw feed, as I like to think of it as.
4912042
Ever since the beginning, I had decided that this story would not be a bed of roses for the protagonist. However, to depict the dilemmas he endures with sufficient detail, I though he had to be sufficiently intelligent and his vocabulary be above the average. I suppose the downside of that is occasional verbosity, and depending on his stamina and mental state, thoughts with tenuous relevance to the original topic. The tangents often provide small insights into his personality, and might be acceptable long as they don't severely diminish the quality of the story. Pardon my curiosity though, but may I ask what was the art that caught your attention?
4912233
Sorry, can you explain what you mean by that?
4912589
Possibly.
4912923
Well, this chapter was an improvement, wasn't it?
Question: Which part of the Winter was played in the radio from four season? Its say its high-tempoed so I think its either 1 or 3 because the mechanism they are created (not sure if understandable so i try other way: every "season work in a way that 1 and 3 is fast while 2 is slow) It could help if there were a link somewhere there or something. I know its a trivial thing, but its bother me a bit.
I really glad when i found out this was updated, and its a really good chapter, i highly enjoyed it
Also the last picture seems a bit odd for me, maybe the camera angle......
Go back to the room if you don't find Embee in either corner, but at least wait at the entrance of that room. This sounds like it could be your only clue to find out about your curse. Anyway Night Light sure mix things up a bit and I bet she wouldn't have the patience to deal with V and his situation even if he went to her home.
4913652
The short animated loop where the pony form is gazing into a mirror with a blink, though it seems it was edited slightly to remove the other vision in the mirror. All vaguely alluded to as it is a ways into the story and I wouldn't want to leave potential spoilers for those that read comments before content.
I can understand the reasoning for wordiness, flowery language and distractions. Certainly my mind will run similar circles around itself. It doesn't really bother me overmuch, just an opinion I'd share.
Given how it seems I just caught the latest chapter the day after it was posted, it looks like I'll have a while to wait for the next with the current pattern of timestamps. Ah well. Quality over quantity is generally better.
>mfw this fic updates
img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20121117231843/mlp/images/5/5c/Pinkie_Pie_clone_big_smile_S3E3.png
Take a shower already you filthy, filthy mare!
4916043
Would you kindly elaborate please?
4915199
Ah, yes, it wasAllegro non molto. It's a treat to the ears and mind, no?
I too thought the last image looked a little odd, but just like you, I chalked it up to the perspective.
4915652
While it would be best were he to stay on track, it's starting to look like he struggles with thinking sensibly. He is exhausted and tired, and wants to rest, which might influence him more than he'd like to admit. Still, wouldn't it be likely that were he to plop onto a bed, Embee would soon come to pull him out? Would that cross his mind, and would he still try to rest? In ny case, that Embee might have an idea who can help him is the best news to him. And yes, Night Light didn't seem like the kind who would be anywhere as patient as Embee has been. I can't imagine what kind of a hassle it would've been for Night Light and Viv if she had to accommodate him in her home.
4915965
I have no idea. Cars are inanimate and lack sapience. She would not move and not think? That's much better than being trapped. And he, er, it, in her body? Yeah... Best case scenario, we'd have a vegetative pony. Anyhow, Viv is out of the room, and things look brighter for him.
Viv had thought about what a female would do as a male when Embee asked “A bit for your thoughts”. Of course, Viv then considered asking her what she'd do as a male, but chose not to.
4916179
Ah, alright. I've heard that the mirror animation has gained some fame beyond the scope of the fic. Maybe even regardless of the fic. Anyhow, your consideration for other readers is noble and appreciated.
It's good to know your comment on the protagonist's verbosity and sidetracked thoughts was an opinion. I sadly have a tendency to see comments as a form of critique, negative or positive.
The latest chapter was a hair above 8,500 words. The last chapter not to exceed 10k words was chapter 9. So, I've taken to set the goal for the next chapter to be 10k words or less. The shorter length should equal less material to edit, and that I turn means a shorter wait for the next chapter.
4916191
His unclean and disheveled appearance is an act of defiance against female gender roles!
4917430
I have no idea what I was thinking back then.
I will straight up admit that chapter 4 might be one of the weakest chapters, and I still regret some decisions I made. I was very nervous of introducing dialogue to the story, let alone another character, and that may've played a critical part in the outcome of the chapter. I also had to consider how the main character behaves and the consequences, and it's likely I didn't explore and develop the neighbor's actions and state of mind with sufficient fidelity. As far as I recall, I the main character had to meet someone, during which his fears and speculations get the better of him. He would treat the guy unfairly, but not without a comeuppance. Sadly, the premise was sound, but the execution was poor. Alas, my inexperience and self-doubts were detrimental, and the fourth chapter, as flawed as it is, pretty much laid the foundations for where the story headed and where it's now at. I have a feeling that the protagonist must make amends with the neighbor, if possible.
Also, those pineapples. Good grief.
I'm truly sorry about that disappointing chapter.
If I could go back and write a much better chapter, I would do so without hesitation. However, polishing the chapter to be more cohesive is one thing, but altering the events altogether would require so much rewriting of every subsequent chapter that the story would be changed entirely.
4918123
I liked the pineapples... sure it was plot convenient, sorta, but people rarely tackle just how unusual a change in species could be on one's diet. It doesn't always have to be as simple as meat->hay. When revealed that it was the evil bisphenol-A that causes psychotic episodes in unicorns I actually laughed out loud. Plus "getting stuck in a ditch" isn't exactly the easiest plot to deal with. It didn't look like you were jury rigging pineapples in there just to put the character in a difficult position to write for.
Though I'd honestly have that scanny unicorn be the one to deliver the BPA news, not much later, in memories brought to you by Rosyvision.
Embee is the most perfect soul. Ever. I'd have broke down and killed our main character 4 chapters ago. :P
4918123
Maybe it'll be a bit easier for Night Light to just show him the bed if that happens, at least he won't be spending his time standing there a lot. Anyway, I suppose his exhaustion would make going to bed more enticing than going to talk to a person who could help him.
4918624
You can't imagine how feverishly I was thinking and fussing about patching up that pineapple-sized hole. Then one day, being bored, I read about tin cans, and came across BPA. After some further reading, I thought that might just be what I had been looking for. Perhaps we could now surmise that Rosy has a BPA allergy, if we're to also assume that the majority of unicorns can eat canned pineapples without adverse effects.
4918757
Oh? Well, thanks!
4918958
That is... brutal, unkind, undeserved, and goes against the Hippocratic oath. But I trust you were joking. You were, right?
Anyhow, yes, Embee has the patience of a tectonic plate.
4919578
It's likely that if Viv doesn't go looking for Embee, he'll go for a bed. It's also likely either Embee or Night Light will find him. Whether he's then allowed to sleep or hauled off to Peachy is up in the air.
4922152
Well now waking up with Embee and Peachy watching over him sounds more enticing than ever. You get your rest and the two ponies who could possibly help you, though I'm surprised his exhaustion causes him to stand still and think for hours on end.
4923319
That outcome might be the best for all three.
4923380
I'm surprised I left an incomplete thought, but yeah waking up with the two ponies that wanted to help you with you, sounds like a great outcome as well. I just hope as Peachy was as influential as a doctor, who could tell when a patient or at least a former patient needs rest, but can't move due to exhaustion. I don't think that's good doctoring, I think I should've asked a doctor about that before I left college. Well, that's considering that Peachy is a doctor and/or Embee can pull off that excuse.
yes, update!
took me 3 days to read since i have been reading on off chances every so often.
vivi finally escaped the break room! yes!
I see her falling asleep on a bed and embee waking her up.
hmm... you say vivi is going against the stereotype of being a clean female? well wouldn't her current state of dirty put her in the stereotype of the female who gets dirty cleaning and doing yard work and enjoys it?
4923956
Well, perhaps it's not only Vi who needs to rest. Embee seemed a little tired, and ostensibly Peachy has worked overtime to midnight, so she might be weary as well. Everyone being well-rested would be preferred, I'm guessing. Unless Embee, Peachy, or Viv himself decrees that his condition is extremely acute.
4926049
No more boring break room for Viv and Embee.
Yep, update!
I agree with your guess; it's likely Viv heeds his primary need and sneaks off to a bed.
Viv a gardener?
Well, we don't know what Rosy aspired to.
4926389 well, i meant that in her attempt to escape one stereo type she may find herself in another.
4926616
Unless he dreams of tending to flowers and plants, then he's not a gardener. Secondly, I don't think gardeners are perpetually dirty. I actually don't have any idea what a stereotypical gardener is like.
4926686
depends on the gardener and part of the world. you have the gardeners who about wear hazmat suits and will only tend to their gardens under perfect conditions, and gardeners who will dig into their gardens without gloves and even putting the compost on with bare hands.
viv being dirty could also be a sign of mud wrestling.
also i wonder if the original rose did have a desire for sex and like females? these feeling could smash away viv's feelings for not wanting it. although i'm not against clop, if such a thing happens i would prefer it is nothing more then a refrence at having happened and not an actual scene.
4926702
I suppose gardeners come in different kinds. Anyhow, what started out as a tongue-in-cheek response to a humorous remark seems to have diverged into a semi-serious disussion. I don't think I have any educated opinions to provide here. A gardener tends to a garden, and a ertain form of science is involved. Botany?
Viv a mud wrestler? I think that would be unlikely. He does seem rather sedate and unwilling to get into a literally dirty fight.
Rosy preferring to get with females? Hard to say. We see everything from Viv's perspective. If he'd feel something, I'm sure he'd know. He'd be revolted, confused, terrified... cautiously curious? Who knows? It does look like he has the upper hand in the identity conflict, and is able to tell apart his and her traits when they're distinctly disparate. However, did you mean that Viv would see a memory of Rosy engaging in a sexual act, or that he would in the future do something o the kind himself?
4927816 that is unknown. I am saying that it could cause him to take sextual interest however. Viv ' s mind likely won't be the same if returned to his original body.
4927839
He wasn't completely without feelings when in his own body, and he disagreed with those feelings. Might be he would disagree if he developed feelings in Rosy's body, too.
However, he hasn't contemplated much on how his time in Rosy's body might affect him. It's certain that he won't forget his experiences, but whether they'll damage or benefit him is a serious brain-teaser.
4928203 it will also be, will he think they damaged or benefited him?
he may think something beneficial is damaging and vice versa.
4928336
It's possible.
I've loved the fanfic ever since it came out and it just keeps getting better with every chapter (with the exception of the pineapples)! Unlike some people I've actually enjoyed some of the slower chapters (11-14?) They have really gotten me into the head of Viv and becoming deeply invested in his character. I actually share A LOT of the same dreams and aspects of his personality...it's kinda scaring me how similar we are sometimes... Hopefully you can implement some more world building of the universe in FPV. Every time Embee mentions something that peeks my interest or if Viv wonders about an aspect of Equestrian life it's usually never explored. My curiosity is demanding more!
Can't wait for the next chapter! Do you have an estimated release date by any chance?
This is, by far, the slowest fic I've ever read.
Roughly speaking, about how far through the story do you think you are? Or are you just taking it as it comes?
4934268 While I agree, I also note you can't rush perfection.