Musings on Lyra Heartstrings, or The Likely Result of the Mixed Chromosomes of Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie and Its Adventures.

by TMH

Chapter IV: Sorority of Sinister Siblings

Musings on Lyra Heartstrings, or the Likely Result of the Mixed Chromosomes of Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie and Its Adventures

Chapter IV:

Sorority of Sinister Siblings

Now, now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Celestia and Luna this pony is sexy.” and, while that is very true, you should be thinking this: “He totally just made that last chapter up as he went along, especially the end.”

While that is completely true, in fact every, entirely true and accurate, story I’ve relayed to audiences has been, um, improvised, only in the most minute of details of course, I must attest the whole and pure validity of these anecdotes.

With my compulsory prologue out of the way we can continue.

As per the norm with Lyra’s reunions with her family, Lyra found herself consumed in a kidney-bruising embrace after being quizzed in various criminal laws and their similarly various loopholes.

The current example of reunion was chiefly composed of none other than Lyra’s only sister, Misty Morning.

Misty Morning was a pegasus with an off-white mane and tail, a coat that seemed to shift and glimmer as if it longed to shroud everything about it, and, perhaps paradoxically, brilliant mint green eyes. It very well could be said that she resembled near terrestrial water vapor condensing due to temperature difference between ground and higher atmospheric elevations, in the morn no less.

To reiterate, she looked like what you would expect.

She happened to be an officer, in case you somehow missed that. An officer of finance. An agent of doomsday. A member of They Who Taketh Our Funds to Pool Our Funds. A lady of lament. A messenger of monetary mastication.

To say more concisely, a tax collector.

The horrors that this, this, abomination, of “justice” and other such nonsense as the “rule of law” and “sound financial management,” wreaked upon good, honorable citizens is despicable. Her, in lieu of a word or calligraph that accurately describes it, “profession” was not the oddest thing about her, however much I might detest that.

Neigh, the oddest thing about her was her family.

Now, I’m sure you expect me to make her out as the “normal” one in a family of nutjobs. And I’m quite sure you expect me to attempt cliched comedy skits with it that weren’t funny even when they were new.

Never make such unfounded assumptions. It shall transfer you to no great station in life.

When I say, “the oddest thing about her was her family,” I mean that her family, including her, are quite the unorthodox bunch.

Starting long ago with Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great Auntie Roseberry Dew, who was well renowned in her day for collecting objects and novelty decorative pieces that we might call gewgaw. (I assure you that word is founded in reality.)

Some say Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great Auntie Roseberry Dew was a close friend Her Most Immaculate and How Does She Never Get Stains On Her Coat I Can’t Wear White Hoof-Cuffs Without Getting Them Soaked in Everything Majesty, Princess Celestia of Eques-waitforit-tria. Trading knick-knacks and antiques and telling the most elaborate stories of them.

Circuitous and verbose stories if you ask me, I would never sink to such lows as to fill my lack of proper reporting and affluence of procrastination with purple prose that is verisimilitudinous of true intellect.

Truly, my humility knows no bounds.

Returning to the genealogy lesson at hoof, we shall find that, through the generations, a certain level eccentricity was maintained and radicalised.

From Great-Great-Great-Great Grandfather Marred Weather, a most appropriate name, who produced and, illicitly, tested the first contemporary theories of meteorological warfare.

To Great Grandmother Kernel Corn, another most appropriate name, who pioneered in the field of battlefield nutrition, devising and issuing the first canned goods light enough for soldiers to carry with them.

Beforehoof, the mares and stallions of war relied on the bulky and, also quite apropos, succulent targets that the large refrigerated wagons that supplied nourishment in far-flung wastelands made for.

She was affectionately nicknamed “Colonel Corn.” Although she was technically a Commandant. Being a Marine and all.

Returning to the time period of this story, we find that most of the former customers of Sugarcube Corner have mysteriously vanished. Sometime after hearing Lyra’s sister was in town the townsfolk furtively, so as not to let them smell the fear, galloped the hay out of there. Most of the rest vanished after realizing Misty was a tax agent.

The two sisters paid no heed, however, and instead proceeded to inform the other of her life since they last spoke.

I shall present the information in an abridged, narrated format, as the two talked through speech, body language, their family’s own verbal code, and even some primitive telepathy Lyra knew.

The relevant information is as follows:

Misty is going to be in town for the foreseeable future, helping whip the locals into good economic shape.

They’re both still single. Not surprising. *cough* Ahem, what?

Hollow Shades is a wonderful place to live, according to Misty. The bat ponies have the most exotic and effective invasive interrogation techniques.

Ponyville is as boring as ever, according to Lyra, the only ponies that see any action are the Elements of Harmony, and Derpy. Plus, the Import-Export Guy (Interesting Note: This was communicated using all the ways listed above.) only comes once every two-months.

Mom and Dad are still on vacation in the Western Islands training local militia groups in exchange for a small villa, a not-so-small sum of precious metals, and enough jungle fruit to feed a small army.

So they finally have a reliable food source for their insurgency then?

Yeah, but Mom likes it there so much she wants to abandon the plan for the Southern Griffon Kingdoms and overthrow some of the local republics and tribes instead.

You seen a dragon around here?

Yeah he came in about five minutes ago, walked upstairs. Why?

He’s trying to get my keys back from the Pink Devil that inhabits this foul place.

Seems nice enough for me. Could use some darker colors, but-

Give it time.

Want some help with those keys?

Yeah sis. And the b-

And the body?

Yeah...

Got you covered.

Mr. and Mrs. Cake watched the whole thing in a mixture of awe, then fear, and finally dismissiveness, muttering something about, “Mares these days.” Then they went about their business trying to find a way to keep some twenty-five pounds of recently ordered baked goods warm.

======&&*&&======

I’m quite confident that all of you kind and patient readers are quite eager, some may go so far as to say restless, to hear of the continued adventures of Spike the Fearless.

Unfortunately for you wandering drunkards, the only Spike hear is Spike the Retriever of Key Rings.

So it is that after casually walking up the stairs Spike oriented himself and began his walk toward the Room of our long anticipated foe.

It being Pinkie Pie’s day off, however, meant she was off gallivanting about the town in search of “Friends” and “Smiles” and other such frivolous frivolities.

Thus is is that our very own Spike the Retriever of Key Rings simply walked through the open door, located the spot that Lyra told him she last remembered holding the keys in her telekinesis, and, with much pomp and circumstance, plucked ‘em up and started on his way back to Lyra.

Perhaps it is apposite to note that Spike undertook all these actions described with a rather severe frown, much like after he eats a particularly bitter gem with lemon juice, and intermittent mumblings about how he, “Never agreed to any of this,” and Lyra, “just had to follow them [Him and Twilight] to Ponyville.”

In fact, Spike was just in the middle of describing, to nobody in particular, how he doesn’t even get paid for what he does. And his allowance doesn’t count.

It could even be assumed that he would have continued on this rant and eventually gone home to Twilight empty-clawed and sulking.

Lyra, then, inadvertently took the place of Pinkie when her sister and she snatched the keys from Spike’s claw, quickly stabbed him with a syringe of propofol, covered him in a burlap bag, and then stuffed part of the bag in his mouth to prevent him yelling out.

Pinkie doesn’t like unhappy ponies, or dracos, and, if Pinkie was a Psychologically Unstable Unicorn from a long line of genetic crazy, it could be ascertained reasonably that she would consider doing something similar to what Lyra and Misty just did.

“Hey, sis?”

“Yeah, Misty?”

“This isn’t Pinkie Pie is it?”

“No sis.”

“This is Spike?”

“Yep.”

“What are we-”

“Take my keys and go back to my place, you remember where it is?”

“Yeah, the one with the bomb shelter out back?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well, what are you going to do with him?”

“Don’t worry sis, I got this.” Lyra uttered these words while standing on her hind legs and propping herself up by placing one of her hoofs on the bag covered Spike and the other hoof in the crook of the first. And I’m pretty sure somewhere a dramatic orchestral piece played.

======&&*&&======

LATER THAT DAY

DING-DONG

“Hmm, Oh! Sorry, we’re past public hours. Please come tomorrow.”

DING-DONG

“Oh, Celestia.” Twilight Sparkle rose from her cushion in front of desk and made her way toward the Library door. “This better be important.”

*Muffled speech*

*Gulp* “Hehe, well, here goes nothing.” Twilight opened the door only to have her expectations of a prankster/hostage crisis dashed by a medium-sized burlap bag wiggling around and producing muffled yells. There was a note attached to it.

Twilight Sparkle,


Tell Spike I appreciate the assistance, and he can expect a shipment of delectable gems within the week.

Vesania ab Gloria,

Lyra Heartstrings

“What in Equestria?” Twilight magicked open the bag and had a nonplussed Spike come crawling out panting. “Spike?”

“Twilight, I’m taking my sick days. All of them.”

“Umm, what hap-”

“I’ll let you know when I get back from Dr. Sure Sense.”

“Why are you going to my psychologist?”

“Because if I don’t, I doubt I’ll ever be able to be touched by a pony again.”

“So what happened?”

“Lyra, Lyra happened.”

Author's Note:

And here we are. After nearly a week of procrastination and general laziness I managed to have a spark of inspiration long enough to finish this chapter.

Since I started Musings I always intended for it to be a side-project. Writer's Block Be Gone, if you will. And I always intended for them to come in sets.

So from now on, I'm going to be updating Musings much more sporadically, but in bursts of three or four chapters at a time. And before the end of the month I should have my first one-shot out and two or three-ish chapters of Flamma out.

So that's the update, for the four or so people who care. I'm such a big-shot!

Questions, comments, concerns? I encourage you to hit up the comment section below.
AND FOR THE LOVE OF LUNA IF YOU LIKE OR DISLIKE THE STORY TELL ME WHY!

That is all.

Comments

[TMH]

1,000+ views.
21 comments
7 likes
1 dislike

Which of these things is not like the others?
I would beg some more, but honestly, I'm tired of it myself.

I'm gonna keep updating, and some 995 of you can just completely ignore me. That's fun.
I'll be at the top one day! Maybe!

Carry On

[Ficta_Scriptor]

This is probably the weirdest, most bonkers piece of literature that I've ever laid eyes on.

And I want more.

[TMH]

2389854
Thank you kind sir/madam.
I do endeavor to sate thy desires to fullest of my potential.

Carry On

[Blagdaross]

I honestly cannot explain my reason for liking this story, except perhaps for Lyra's eyes in the cover art.

Truly, my humility knows no bounds.

Or possibly that. I'm really not sure.

[TMH]

2392911
So you either like my taste in art or enjoy my vast reservoir of traits and attributes?
In all likelihood, though, you are enraptured by my devilishly good looks and inexhaustible wit.

Or maybe you just have too much time on your hands/hooves.

Carry On

[Blagdaross]

2396335 It's worth pointing out, if only for the sake of full disclosure, that spirituous liquors are also a factor.

[TMH]

2396496
Ah! So your avatar image is not merely for the "lulz," as some might say?

Carry On

[Protocol]

This review is brought to you by the group Authors Helping Authors.

I'm going to focus on the cons here, since I feel that you don't really need an in-depth analysis of your good points to continue doing those things in your writing,
Grammar Score:
8/10

Pros:
- Original style of writing and plot that I don't see too often on the site.
- Scenarios seem to be planned out well.
- You have nice dialogue going on between your characters. I'd say this was the most charming point of the story for me, as the humour was generally conveyed through the dialogue.

Cons:
- You've got issues with pacing. Reading this story is like watching a Nascar race track, without the predictability of the constant left turns. You need to punctuate your story better. Punctuation acts as little breaks or pauses in the reading, and the readers can move at a slower, more comfortable pace if the story has its pauses, commas, breaks, and periods in the right place. Paragraph spacing will also do wonders for pacing, as I myself recently discovered from one of my reviewers. When you want to set something apart from the rest of the text, Start a new paragraph. You seem to have the basic rules of paragraphing pretty decently covered, but it's not enough. You need to actively make new paragraphs to set a good pace for readers.
- You don't stay consistent with your verb tenses. You'll start off in present tense, run around past tense for a little, dash over to future perfect, and jump right into future tense. It's extremely confusing and it irked me quite a bit when I was reading this story. I might even go far as to say it was the thing I disliked most about this fic.
- Caps lock usage, brackets, and narrative voice. These are a few minor things, so I'll try and bundle them in one. First of all, your narrative voice style doesn't match your writing style at all. The narrator is extremely childish and immature, while the writing and wording are overly sophisticated and complex. This tends to generate a very in-your-face style of humour, but it's a little too much, especially with the added use of caps lock.

Notes:
Your writing tends to leave its impact through the dialogue. What I strongly recommend is to describe your characters' tones of speech more with adjectives and verbs, not with other literary devices.

When you have time, please take a look at my story, A Young Lady's Gude to the Demon Slaying Arts.

Until next time,
~Black Lightning

[TMH]

2411336
Danke, gracias, and thank you.

On Issue One: I'm not entirely sure how to go about fixing the pacing. I thought I was giving enough commas in my five line sentences, apparently not.

Issue Two: Verb tenses I am very well aware of. When I started this story, the first two chapters, I wasn't entirely sure how I was going to be telling this story. In fact, when I started the very first sentence I had no idea where I was going. I have a general plan for the future now, but this story started off as, and still is, just a free-writing kind of deal with me. Now, however, I've decided to release more in bursts of three-ish chapters or so, mini-arcs if you will, so expect to see vast improvement in this.

Issue Three: As far as the narrator goes, I'm going for a bit of a GLaDOS style, if you will. By that I mean that the narrator is highly learned and intelligent, but at the same time very base and immature. He will rant on for paragraphs, interjecting jibes and observations.
On caps lock, I'm not entirely sure what you mean. Chapter Two is the only chapter that uses much caps lock, and I'm fairly sure it's all in apposite places.

On the whole, thank you very much, your criticism has been highly constructive.
I suppose 'tis only fair for me to viciously rip your literary work to diminutive shards of tears and broken dreams in recompense.

Carry On