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You start reading yet another boring Writeoff entry. You were already half-asleep to begin with, and your mind begins to wander. The text is blurry and your eyelids close most of the way.
So you're nearly asleep, but you're still lucid enough to notice a strange feeling in your legs, and up above your face. Huh, that's strange. Where did that horn on your forehead come from, you wonder?
Wait a minute. Who are you?
You are Ruby Pinch.
After a momentary dissociative fog, you snap back to reality. The horn is there because you're a unicorn, of course. Why were you imagining that you were reading a story? That's kind of a weird thing to imagine, but your mind often wanders.
Your horn is also why you're currently in the Carousel Boutique, standing next to the Princess. You're here for magic training that she's been gracious enough to supply for free. As you stretch your neck, you glance down at your cutie mark: two large red rubies. What are the odds, you think? If Mom had named you Amethyst Pinch, would they be purple instead?
"Did you get all of that, Pinchy?" she asks you.
"Oh—gee this is embarrassing," you say, and frown slightly. "I totally spaced out there for just a moment. I'm sorry, Princess."
"It's fine," she says. "But as I've said before, please call me Rarity. There is more than one princess in Ponyville, you know. Besides, darling, you don't want me to call you 'Ms. Pinch', now do you?"
The Princess of Generosity smiles with the warmth of a hundred suns, and you smile shyly back.
"No ma'am—sorry; I mean, no, Rarity. I like Pinchy," you say, rather assertively. You realize that what feels assertive to you, probably wouldn't feel the same way if you were somepony else. But you're not somepony else, so that's a strange thing to think about, and then Rarity starts talking so you focus again.
"I've hidden six gemstones in this room. I want you to find them using the gem location spell I've taught you," she says. "You have been practicing, yes?"
You nod vigorously. "Oh yes! I've been using it to find gems outside, actually."
"Good! But please, be careful about wandering too far from Ponyville without an escort. The outskirts are a dangerous place these days," she says.
As you nod in agreement, you decide not to tell her about getting kidnapped by Diamond Dogs and then being rescued by the Princess of Loyalty (who, fortunately, promised not to tell anypony). Obviously, Princess Rarity would never let something like that happen to her. You probably shouldn't have been out there alone, though. Mom wanted to come with you, but she probably would have just run away screaming. Mom means well, but it's not like she...
"Some of the gemstones are smaller than others," says Rarity, "and one of the six in particular will be exceptionally difficult to find. I shall sit here and read, and watch you from time to time," she says. Rarity takes a seat and begins reading from an issue of Cowsmopolitan.
You're certain the magazine is a ruse so you won't think you're being watched when your back is turned. Everypony is always doing terrible things behind your back, you're certain of it. Just like Mom used to do, back when you were much younger. She was always doing stupid things to hurt herself and hiding it from you so you wouldn't know. If she'd been open about it maybe it would be easier to forgive her, even though you do forgive her. At least Rarity is nice and straightforward about it. It's not like she's making fun of you or lying to you. You hope.
You look over your withers back at Rarity, who is currently pretending to read the magazine. It's a very convincing act. You return to your task. Standing from a vantage point that captures most of the room, you cast the spell and squint.
You immediately see your aura shining in three signatures: one large, one mid-sized, and one small. The large one is behind the sewing machine under a tiny piece of fabric. You probably could have found that one without the spell. The medium one is hidden inside a bolt of fabric, and the small one is under a warped rug. You had wondered where that rug came from, and why Rarity would keep such a thing, so it was kind of obvious. Nonetheless, the small gem's signal was very faint.
All three gems are rubies, of course. Rarity has a flair for poignancy, as well as for pretty much everything else she does. You head back with three rubies levitated beside you, and set them down on the desk. "That's the first three," you say.
Rarity smiles very wide, and she looks like Mom does when she discovers you got straight A's because she found your report card. You've never been able to hide it where she can't find it, but she works from home so she has plenty of time to snoop. You don't really know what the look on Rarity's face means, because it doesn't seem to make any sense. Privately, you call it the Mystery Look. "Excellent work, and very fast!" she says, with a clop of her front hooves.
"Well, that's only half of them," you say, frowning.
Rarity sighs deeply. "Pinchy, you must learn to take pride in your accomplishments. You're learning how to do this very quickly!" she says, as she gets those vertical concern wrinkles in the middle of her forehead. "I only expected you to locate these three, by the way. The others are very tricky. Don't stress yourself; just relax, and take your time."
She's clearly patronizing you, you think. But you'll prove her wrong. You have to. Other ponies need to respect you. You need to be useful to other ponies so that you can finally stop all this worrying. You need to be worth something.
The spell has faded, so you turn around and recast it. You look thoroughly around the room, squinting. You can't see any other glowing signatures. Wait...
You walk slowly toward the bolts of cloth. Something is glowing inside the orange bolt. It's almost impossible to see because the orange bolt exactly matches your aura color. You reach in and pull out a gemstone.
"Excellent!" says Rarity, almost shouting with exuberance.
"That was very clever," you say. "Where in Equestria did you find a bolt that matches my aura so well?"
"Well, I had to dye it," she says. "But I can use it to make a dress for you later."
You know you have a puzzled expression on your face, but you can't help it. Why would Rarity, a bonafide princess, spend so much time on a simple test like this? Why would she offer to make you a dress? You're not that important. You dismiss your confusion and look around the room. The spell is still active, and you don't see anything. You spend a few minutes carefully peeking from every steradian on both sides of the room, and you see nothing. The two remaining gems are very hard to locate.
"You shouldn't feel the need to keep trying, because the last two gems are very difficult to find," says Rarity. "I'm very impressed you found the fourth one."
"No," you say, shaking your head decisively. "No hints, and I will not give up."
Rarity's lips pull inward for a moment. "Alright, sweetie. Just, try to relax. Believe me, it will help with detection."
No it won't. You don't need to relax, you just need to be smart—and you are smart. Hmm. If you can't detect the gems when the spell is on, maybe you can detect their absence when the spell is off?
You stand on one side of the room and turn the spell on and off several times in a row. You're not seeing anything, but the light overhead is flickering just a little.
"Ah!" you say, suppressing a smile. You look up at the overhead light, which is very bright, so you have to squint. Turning the spell on again reveals the tiniest boost to the glow, on one side of the light. You reach in with your magic and remove a large ruby.
The gemstone is very hot, so hot you can even feel it with your aura. You didn't know that such a thing was possible before now. You suspect it's a lesson embedded within the test.
"Let me take that one from you," says Rarity. You feel her touch your aura as she plucks it from your magical grasp, and the sensation is strangely intimate. You blush. Rarity sets the ruby on a ceramic plate she recently added to the desk, obviously to allow the gem to cool.
"Okay, one more," you say. "Unless you've hidden seven gems to test me further?" You eye Rarity with high suspicion.
Rarity rolls her eyes. "Oh Heavens, no! I'm being straight with you, Pinchy," she swears, making the same motion that the Princess of Laughter uses. "There's only one gem remaining. I don't expect you to find it, and in all honesty I think I made it far too difficult, but the fact you found all of the others is incredible! You should be proud of yourself."
"No. I'll get it," you say flatly, and you see her frown.
You spend the next fifteen minutes searching for your aura everywhere in the room, with no luck. You try turning the lights off, but nothing is visible. You suspect the ruby must be very tiny. But even if it were infinitesimal, you would still be able to see your aura around it...
"Darling, it's okay. I made the last one too difficult," says Rarity, and her face looks sad. "Your mother is coming to pick you up soon, so we should stop for now. There are some lessons about using spells I haven't taught you yet, and to be fair, you need that information to have any chance at this one. You've done an amazing job."
"Not yet," you say. You want to ask why your mother is coming to pick you up, but it doesn't really matter. All that matters is finding that last gem. Lessons you haven't been taught, you wonder? Maybe you're going about this the wrong way. You can't see the aura... so what if there's no way to see the gem at all?
You're uncertain if this will do anything, but you turn off the lights again and close your eyes. Rarity is whisper-quiet. You cast the spell, and right at the end of it you get the idea to hold the magic there slightly—like a singer stretching out a note. It's exhausting, but you focus on listening, smelling...
Wait. You sense something, but not physically. It isn't a sight or a sound or a scent at all. Somehow, you can feel it within your mind. It feels like using telekinesis, but it's much subtler than that. You walk toward where you sense the object is. It's inches from your face, you're sure of it. You open your eyes, and Rarity is seated right in front of you. She flips the light switch. She has a convincing poker face. You realize you probably have a look of surprise on yours.
"Can I help you, dear?" she asks.
"It's... it's inside you," you say, then you burst out with a brief laugh. "You put the gem inside your body, so that your living aura would block my ability to see my own aura! But somehow, I can sense it anyway?"
Rarity gets the Mystery Look on her face again, and she hugs me tightly. "You are beyond incredible, darling," she says. "Yes. Our magic can indeed penetrate living auras, but you can't see into flesh. You have to use your magic sense to feel in the places you cannot see. While normally you can see your aura through objects, there are a few things that can block that ability—I'll review them with you next week. Your magic sense, however, will always work, which is why it's essential to practice it."
"Huh. I guess it was too hard," you say. "But I did it anyway, so... go me?" you add, with a smile.
Rarity hugs you tightly again. It's weird, but you do kind of feel good about yourself for once.
"Oh, wait. Do I have to, well, get the gem out of you?" you ask.
Rarity's eyes widen. "Goodness, no! I'd rather not have you open me up, darling. But I will return it to you, er... perfectly clean of course, in a few days." She blushes.
"Oh. Wait, returned to me? Do I need to find it again?" you ask.
"All of these rubies belong to you now, Pinchy," says Rarity. She places the five rubies into a pair of saddlebags and levitates it onto your back. The saddlebags are very well-made, and they have your cutie mark embroidered on them, so it's clear they're yours as well.
"You, you can't be serious," you whisper. Those gems weren't just boring old rubies. They were rare and flawless, just like everything Rarity uses. Even each of the little ones must be worth a hefty pile of bits.
Rarity grins. "Of course I'm serious, dear," she says. "At this point, you've learned everything about gem location that I can teach you. You can practice your magic sense on your own now. Next week we'll start working on the basics of illusion magic. I'll have to start preparing now, because I expected this would take another month."
You sit down and rest for a while, feeling even more fatigued than you were when you began. Rarity gives you a glass of juice, and that helps. Using magic can be very tiring, just like heavy lifting or painting or solving a hard puzzle. Your mind takes more energy than any other part of your body. But this, this thing you've done today? It's good, you think. You can't deny that you did well, even though you like to deny that most of the time. This is good.
There's a knock at the door, and Rarity answers. "Ah! Perfect timing. Welcome, Berry Punch," she says. They do an air-kiss and giggle. You really don't understand that.
"Pinchy!" says Mom, and she turns and gallops past Rarity, picks you up, and squeezes you tight. You smell something on her cheeks. It's smells a little like wine, and you wince.
Dammit, Mom.
"Honey, you can go outside and get in the cart. I'll be right out, after I talk with Princess Rarity." Her breath smells like mouthwash, but that isn't fooling you. You know Mom better than she does. You've lived with her your whole life, after all. Well, except for the couple of times they took you away from her for a while.
"Oh. Why are we taking a cart?" you ask.
"You'll find out soon enough," says Mom, and she grins.
You go outside, and there's a small haycart loaded with several boxes. You climb in next to the boxes and rest while Mom and Rarity gab it up. You feel kind of sleepy because you stayed up late last night doing homework, but you resolve to stay awake. It's your birthday today, which Mom usually remembers. You're not counting on that, but you should at least be prepared.
Before you know it, Mom latches herself to the cart and begins to trot. Since she's an earth pony, this load won't even make her break a sweat. "I see the saddlebags, and Rarity told me how well you did today!" she turns back and looks at you with the Mystery Look, then she keeps trotting. "She didn't give me any details about what you did, though, so you'll have to tell me all about it. We're going to have a lot of fun together celebrating your awesome magic."
You smile. "Oh, cool," you say, and you mean it. Yeah, you do love Mom. It's not really her fault she has a drinking problem—it's a physical addiction she developed when she was a little foal. Mom tries her best, and everypony makes mistakes.
Then it hits you: is the Mystery Look what... pride looks like? Is that what you're seeing on ponies faces? Is your mother truly proud of you? Is Rarity? Maybe all this time, inst—
Mom yelps and twists to the left, and everything spins upside-down. You fly out of the cart as you hear wood cracking behind you, and you slam into the side of a stone building. It winds you, and painfully.
Hitting the ground, you cry and gasp for breath, kneeling there right next to the wall. Looking up from the ground, you see Mom's legs behind the overturned cart, and you hear her curse. You feel bad, but you can forgive her... even though she's obviously drunk off her rump again.
One of the boxes has smashed open, and party supplies have spilled out. Party supplies? You can't think clearly because you're still struggling to breathe, when a large block of granite appears on the ground right next to you. What? You hear loud hoofsteps striking the ground at a galloping pace. You feel worried for some reason, but you don't k—
You jerk upright in bed, throwing your covers across the room and screaming loud enough to wake everypony in the house. You're drenched in sweat. You're confused about where you are, and everything else too. Were you in a dream? It felt too real to be a dream. You were gaspin' for breath, and... didn't it have something to do with Mom? No, Ma wasn't there. You ain't sure about the rest.
The door to your room bursts open, sending fractured pieces of wooden lock flying right out the open window. "You okay?" says a large alicorn who reminds you of one of your sisters.
Wait. Sisters? What were you just thinking about? Dreams fade so quickly...
Who are you, anyway?
You are Big Macintosh.
Officially, you're 'Prince' Big Macintosh, but colt howdy, how you hate that title. You reckon you're thinkin' about the whole prince thing again 'cause your sis got her wings spread really wide right now.
"Mac?" your sister says, and then she walks into the room and places a hoof on your shoulder.
"I, um, I'm okay," you say, trying not to sound nervous. You're pretty sure you failed at doin' that thing. "Nightmare."
Applejack rassles her arms all the way 'round your bod, which ain't easy, even for a mare her size. You can see Apple Bloom right there in the door with an equal helpin' of concern squattin' on her own little face. Well, you guess her face ain't all that little no more.
"You need anythin' to get back to sleep, Brother?" asks Apple Bloom, stepping into your room. You feel very foolish and dumb for screaming from a nightmare, because stallions aren't supposed to do that. You also don't like having your sisters in your bedroom with you, because it feels cramped. Bein' around too many ponies in a place too small to give y'all some breathin' room makes you mighty iffy—even if they're kin.
You look at the clock beside your bed. "Nnope," you say. "Might as well get movin', it's almost dawn now." You hope they'll get the hint, and you're safe 'cause they ain't dumb at all. Bless the Stars, Bloom's the smartest Apple you ever known, and you've known a passel of 'em. You can't even believe you're related, to be honest. You can't even think about smart stuff without your brain hurtin'. But weren't you just thinkin' all about magic and clever stuff? Must of been the dream. Maybe it wasn't all bad, after all.
AJ's smart enough to release you, then she steps back and smiles. "Must have been one humdinger of a dream!" she says, and whistles. "It's been a few years since I had one that bad. Remind me to scold Princess Luna the next time I see her."
Despite how your innards are all a-twist, you smile a little. "Luna ain't got nothin' to do with it," you say. Deep down, you're grateful to have kin who care so much about you. You got a good life, 'cept the hard work. No, wait, you forgot somethin' important. You love hard work. So all's good, 'cept the prince thing of course, and that don't matter none. Now you smile a lot more.
Bloom catches the smile from you and AJ—stuff's like a bad cold—and then they leave you be. You head off to take a shower and exfoliate. You wish there was a different word than 'exfoliate' because that one sounds so floofy. You don't like things that sound floofy because you worry what ponies'll think of you. You worry about that a whole lot, even though you know it's silly. On your way to the shower you make a note in your head to wash your sheets tonight.
Usually you shower in the evening, but today you're gonna need two: one now, and one after chores. It's kind of a hassle, 'cause you take a while to shower. But you got stuff to think about. You start by thinkin' about Fluttershy, which happens a lot in the shower, though you don't tell nopony that. You been visitin' her a lot, and she seems to tolerate you good enough. Maybe you'll actually ask her for a date someday. You wouldn't think about that kinda thing, 'cept Twilight came stickin' her muzzle where it don't belong to tell you Shy kinda likes you. Twilight would know, what with Friendship and all, so it seems cut and dried, but it still gives you the willies. You're brave enough, you just don't wanna make her feel bad.
You'd probably leave Shy alone 'cause she's a princess, but you're a prince, so if you married her (now there's a crazy dream) you can't become a prince more'n once. So her bein' a princess don't core you any more than you already got cored by AJ. No matter what you do, you're gonna be a prince. You sigh and accept it.
Although...
Sometimes, you actually kinda think about bein' a princess. Not for the title, 'cause that ain't much better'n prince. You like to think about bein' smart, and havin' magic to do stuff with, and bein' able to fly around, just like your sister and her friends. Maybe even wearin' fancy gold shoes, or somethin' wild like that. But that kinda stuff don't happen to colts, and you ain't smart enough, and your daydreams don't really matter a lick. But the facts don't stop the thinkin' part. You might be afraid of what other ponies think, but you ain't afraid to dream. That'd just be silly.
You finish your shower and towel off, then head out to face the day.
It's all bright out today, nice and sunny and hot, the way you love it. You also love it when it rains and when it snows, just not quite as much. Today's a sweatin' day, and there's plenty of work to be done, so you trot down to the orchard and get to workin'.
Your mind wanders a lot, even though you ain't got much mind to wander. Mostly about stuff that can't be real, as usual. You reckon most ponies probably got fantasy thinkin' goin' on at least part of the day, but it's mostly all day long for Mac. The stuff you gotta do is simple and most folk'd be bored stiff by it, but it's great exercise and it feels good all over your body, and especially in your chest, and not the flesh part. There's a warmth in your heart that never leaves you when you're doin' your part for the family. You want that warmth to be in there every day.
Then it's about noon, so you start thinkin' about puttin' grub in your muzzle, and you head on back to the farmhouse to do that thing. Normally AJ'd be ringin' the bell for lunch, but she got somethin' to do today so it's just you and Bloom. When AJ ain't around for lunch, Bloom usually goes and eats with her friends. You don't like bein' alone for lunch, but it ain't your place to ask for anythin' different.
But just as you get close to home, you get an odd hankerin' for somethin' different. You reckon you'll head into town today and get somethin' to eat at the Hay Cafe. They always got specials that don't cost too much, and three earth pony meals is usually enough to fill your belly. Maybe it's a waste of bits, but you hardly never do stuff for yourself, so you smile and grab your saddlebags.
As canter into town, your dumb brain keeps wanderin' as always, first about how you ain't never gonna be a princess, then s'more about Fluttershy. You worry she might see you, 'cause you're all sweaty right now, but some mares s'poseda like that sorta thing. Besides, you can't be ashamed of your work, 'cause it's what makes life worth livin'. That and family, and maybe friends too. But that don't make no...
Wait.
There's somethin' wrong. A cart just crashed down the hill by that stone house what's still bein' put together, and it looks like somepony flew out of the cart and into the wall. You hear some loud naughty words, too. They might need some help. You start trotting that way, carefully eyeballin' the situation. Then you see a bunch of stones resting on the edge of the roof of that there house, and they're in a stack like somethin' that high up shouldn't be, and they're teeterin'.
You're in a gallop even before you tell your hooves to move, which you think is kinda neat. You guess you know what's right so good that you just start movin' when you gotta. Well, you gotta. That's a filly right under them stones, and she gonna get smashed if you can't go fast enough to get her.
As you race, you look at the rocks, and you quickly reckon out exactly when they gonna hit the ground and where they gonna hit. You reckon the first stone'll hit next to the filly and the second square on her, and you only got seconds to spare, so you turn up the juice past the breakin' line.
Oh, how you wish you was fast as Rainbow Dash right now! You don't need to be a princess, even though it'd be nice, just as long as you could get to that little filly in time. The first stone falls right beside her, exactly where you done thought it was gonna. Your hooves just keep movin', and it's hard to breathe. You don't think you ever run this fast before. You see more stones fallin' toward her, and you jump real hard...
You land a few hooves away from the filly just in time to see stones come smashin' down on her. It looks real bad, but you stand u—
No, it turns out you don't do that thing.
Several big stones hit your back and there's a real loud crackin' sound and it ain't the stones makin' it. You think you're pinned under 'em, but you can't tell 'cause you can't feel a goldurn thing back there.
You don't wanna admit it, but you realize even if you do come outta this, you pro'lly ain't never gonna move those back legs of yours again. And that ain't good, 'cause it means you'll be a large-size burden on your sisters' withers. You almost hope you don't make it outta this one, even though you're sure that's the wrong thing to hope and you know your sisters don't want that neither.
Then you look up and see a big grey mass, and all of a sudden you feel an overwhelming sense of peace. You done right, Mac.
The stone hits your shoulders nice and square, and they crunch like dried applewood and you can't hardly breathe no more. You don't feel no pain, but you feel warmth flowin' right out of your mouth, kinda wet-like, and the warm parts in your chest are gettin' mighty cold.
But that's okay, 'cause it's just physical warmth. It ain't the important kind.
You feel so cold and sleepy, and things get all dark, then there's a ringin' in your ears as ev—
Hold up a sec, now.
Slowly, real careful-like, you see a light. It's a white light, and it starts to feel warm again deep in your innards, and you gasp for breath because your lungs still ache. You blink repeatedly, and you flex your legs, all four of those things. You can feel them again, as a tingling sensation covers them. You stretch, and look yourself over as you start to breathe normally. Okay, this is interesting...
Where in Tartarus are you? You're sitting in a comfortable chair next to a bottle of pills, but why? This house looks familiar. Weren't you trying to help somepony? Didn't you feel broken and cold? What the buck...
For that matter, who are you?
You are Berry Punch.
You know you were being crushed... or was it pulled apart? You can't remember, but it was some horrible kind of hallucination. Or was it? What in bucking Tartarus is going on? You're still gasping for air.
Were you drinking? You remember having a drinking problem...
No, you weren't drinking. You wouldn't dare drink again. You've been sober for eight months, and you'll be sober for the rest of your life. That last time you almost lost your daughter. Fortunately, the Princess of Forgiveness saved you from yourself.
So no, you won't drink. Pinchy means everything to you. She is your reason for existing. You need her to know you care about her, and you need it more than you need to eat grass, or drink water, or even breathe. And you certainly need it more than alcohol.
Your hooves are shaking and you're still a little dizzy. You stand up and examine the pills beside the tattered easy chair you were seated in.
Oh no.
"I took the wrong ones?" you whisper to yourself. You can't believe it. You realize your new anti-anxiety meds, which are still experimental, look a lot like the pills you thought you were taking. The pills beside your chair are the experimental ones. You just took six large doses of an anti-anxiety drug that had only been tested for a single dose per day. Earth pony sized doses, to be precise.
Horsefeathers. You feel guilty, and you punch yourself in the side of the head, which hurts a lot. But it should hurt. What would have happened if you'd died? You're a mother. Maybe you're not a good mother, but you're still a mother, and Ruby depends on you to take care of her—even though she's getting close to the age when she'll finally leave you forever. But for now, you have a responsibility, and taking care of her means you need to take care of yourself. You love her too much to do something this stupid. You can't be this stupid again, you just can't.
You try to calm down. You shouldn't be hurting yourself, because that's almost as wrong as drinking. Fortunately, it isn't difficult to calm down because you have a ton of anti-anxiety medication in your bloodstream right now. That's a silver lining, you sarcastically think. You try to focus, and look over at the clock.
"Oh horse apples, I'm late!" you say. You're glad Pinchy isn't here to hear you cuss out loud, but you were supposed to pick her up five minutes ago. The Carousel Boutique isn't far from here, but you zoned out instead of delivering the party supplies to Sugarcube Corner, so you'll have to take them with you.
You run into the bathroom and quickly dab some cheap perfume under each cheek. It smells more like kerosene than flowers, but you can't afford the good stuff, and appearances are important. You want the Princess of Generosity to know you're grateful for her time, and for her willingness to teach Pinchy for free because she knows you can't afford to pay for lessons. But more importantly, you want Pinchy to know you take her abilities seriously. You may be an earth pony, but you don't have to be a unicorn to appreciate one, for buck's sake. You quickly rinse your mouth out with mouthwash and canter outside.
As you load the party supplies into the cart, you wonder why things always need to be so bucking complicated. If only Pinchy realized what incredible talent she has, you think, as you hook yourself up to the cart you borrowed from a neighbor. But then again, if your daughter didn't have these issues, she probably wouldn't push herself so hard all the time. It's a deep irony, and it makes you feel conflicted. You're so proud of her, but you're pretty sure you'd rather have a C student who felt good about herself. She doesn't need to do all this to impress you! You've always been proud of her, even when you were unable to show it properly.
You take off at a canter, but to be safe you'll slow to a trot after you pick up Pinchy with you. She could just walk beside you, sure, but today is her day. She'll get a wagon ride to her fifteenth birthday party, and then we'll both have a blast. You start to relax a little more. Things are okay.
You arrive at the Carousel Boutique. You detach yourself from the cart and walk up to the door, then pause before knocking. The princess said she had a difficult test planned for Pinchy. Her foal might be inconsolable if she didn't pass. Of course the filly will pass, but that's never good enough for Pinchy. She'll expect her performance to be perfect. You sigh deeply. You need to take her with you to therapy someday. She says she doesn't want to go, but maybe if you beg her like a jackass or something.
You knock on the door, and you bite at your lip as you wait.
A few moments pass, then a smiling princess opens the door. "Ah! Perfect timing. Welcome, Berry Punch," she says to you. You giggle and fake an air-kiss, ironically. Rarity's always talking about how ridiculous ponies are in the world of fashion. Initially you used to think she was trying to show you up, but eventually you realized her friendship for what it is.
Then you see your perfect daughter sitting down inside, and you smile.
"Pinchy!" you shout, then race into the Boutique, pick Ruby up, and hug her like you mean it—because you do.
You look into her eyes, and she looks disappointed, which is how she usually looks. You don't think that will last for long, though.
"Honey, you can go outside and get in the cart. I'll be right out, after I talk with Princess Rarity," you tell her, and set her back down. You notice she's wearing saddlebags with her cutie mark on them—obviously another gift from Rarity.
"Oh. Why are we taking a cart?" she asks you.
"You'll find out soon enough," you tease, then walk over to Rarity. Your daughter walks past you and climbs into the cart.
You smile at Rarity. "Did you give her those beautiful saddlebags?" you ask, already knowing the answer. "They're perfect for her."
Rarity grins back, a bit sheepishly. "Oh, there's a little more gift-wise, but I'll let her tell you herself." You don't know what that means, but you have the suspicion Rarity has outdone herself.
"You're too kind to us both, Rarity," you say. It took you a while to learn to call her Rarity, but you've known each other for a couple of years now. She's been a great source of strength. You figure all of this is why she's a princess.
"No, you deserve better than you've had in life," she says. "I'm proud of you both, but especially Pinchy. I cannot believe that darling girl! She masters everything I throw at her, thrice as fast as I ever learned magic."
You smile. "She's something special, alright. I only wish she knew that."
"We'll teach her, don't worry. It just takes time," says Rarity. "You know," she adds, dropping her voice to a whisper, "I never much cared for children. At all, really, except for modest doses of my little sister. But I think I see the rewards inherent to motherhood, and for that experience, I am forever grateful."
You feel misty eyed. Horse apples, you hate this kind of sentiment. "You're coming to the party, yes?" you redirect.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, darling! But to avoid spoiling the surprise, I shall be 'fashionably late', as they say," she says, vainly holding a hoof to her chest with her nose upturned, before we both break into giggles again.
"See you soon," you say, and you head back to the cart.
Pinchy looks tired, and you're tempted to tell her that she can nap in the cart, but you're pretty sure she'd just take that as a challenge to prove you wrong. So you quietly latch yourself to the cart and begin to trot toward Sugarcube Corner. You'll keep the destination and party a surprise. You scrimped and saved so you could give her a very special experience today.
After you're on your way, you look back at her, beaming with pride. "I see the saddlebags, and Rarity told me how well you did today!" you say, then put your eyes back on the road. "She didn't give me any details about what you did, though, so you'll have to tell me all about it. We're going to have a lot of fun together celebrating your awesome magic."
"Oh, cool," she says, and you feel like you've just won a marathon.
Out of nowhere, a baby rabbit jumps right in front of your hooves and freezes! You move your left forehoof to the side, and it catches in a small rut in the road. Your ankle twists painfully and you fall to the ground.
Unfortunately, you're still harnessed to the cart, and as an earth pony, you weigh at least twice what the cart and its contents weigh.
The cart flips sideways and the boxes fall all over the place. One of them cracks open, and one of the wooden wheels is shredded. And then you see Pinchy hit the wall. For a unicorn, that really had to hurt. Oh, buck it all to Tartarus!
"Horsefeathers!" you shout, your voice filled with an even mix of anger and guilt. Your ankle seems unbroken, so you try to stand up, but then you notice two of your legs are caught through one of the undamaged cart wheels. Of course you could snap the wood to splinters as easily as chewing through sugar, but you'll have to pay for the damage the cart has already taken. You don't have the money for this, and you don't like to lean on friends like Rarity for things you should be able to do on your own. It's not like you have gems sitting on your dresser.
You try to pull your legs free without damaging the cart any more than it's already damaged. You hear a 'thump', followed by a few 'thump's with a little 'crunch' in there. Then you see Big Macintosh racing and jumping toward where Pinchy fell—
You utterly destroy the cart as the most horrible feeling of your life grips your chest. There are enormous blocks of stone falling off the wall. You'd have to be a genius to calculate where the stones would land, so nowhere along the wall is safe.
You don't see Pinchy anywhere, and you're starting to panic. There are stones littering the area by the wall where she was. Big Macintosh has stones covering his back half, and then you see a stone land on his shoulders and flatten him thinner than anypony can be flattened, let alone a pony his size. You realize you just watched a pony die, then you snap back to your senses because it doesn't matter.
You don't bother to look up, because safety is not important. You rush to the pile of stones where you last saw Pinchy. No, no, no. There's a lot of red, and you throw one of the boulders over your shoulder and you scream and you fall to the ground and pet the part of her head you can still touch. This is the end of the world.
At some point you run out of voice to scream with, and you turn and gallop away. You're barely able to breathe through the tears and the pain. You feel a momentary numbness grip your body, and you realize you're watching yourself act. You're not in your own body right now. A mind can't live inside of that body right now, you realize. Nothing can live there.
When you reach your home, you run inside and slam the door behind you. The instinct in your mind is to go for booze, but you've removed all of that from the house. You're tempted to try drinking the vanilla and almond extract, but you realize you can't do it. Even now, with your soul fractured into a million pieces, you can't betray Pinchy. You cannot drink.
But then you see the pills.
You know Ruby Pinch would want her mother to live. You know she would try with all her might to protect you from yourself. But there are limits, and you've gone well past any rational limit. Besides, you don't know the pills will kill you.
You just hope they will.
Twenty-three pills go down your throat, or as many as you can swallow dry before you begin coughing. Most of them are get stuck in your esophagus, but the pony body is designed for digestion and it's only a matter of time. In the meantime, choking is a welcome distraction. You lie on your bed and cry and choke and rip your covers to shreds, then you start to destroy the mattress as a very heavy weight presses down on your neck. Your body tingles and goes numb and you just want to go somewhere else, anywhere else, even nowhere if it means... you're sleepy all over and blessed confusion sets in. It's all tight and warm and floaty and you thi—
You wake up next to a moonlit lake, surrounded by magical flora created from your own imagination, and you smile, because you know exactly where you are. This is your realm, after all.
Where you are is, oddly enough, still asleep.
As for who you are?
You are Princess Luna.
You stretch out on the imaginary bed inside your own dream, and you close your eyes for a moment to focus. Unlike most ponies, you have developed the ability to remember dreams. And you can do this not only with your own dreams, but also with the consciousnesses who enjoin with you.
You can feel the minds which merge with your own when you pick them up in states of altered consciousness or once consciousness can no longer be supported. Everypony does this, but only you are directly aware of it. This time, the mind that merged with yours was from a future version of Equestria. As was the last mind that merged with her, and the last mind that merged with him. The one before that was something alien to you.
Normally, a stack of consciousnesses would come from all over the multiverse. Three minds in a row, all from the same timeline, the same point in time, and victims to the same event? As well as from Equestria? The odds are simply impossible. But you know that impossible things happen everyday, so you just smile and feel the warmth of life.
Welcome home, you think to yourself, and you embrace the past.
It is fortuitous to have a window into the possible future. You shall take steps to ensure that the tragedy which took that stack of minds doesn't happen in this Equestria. Tomorrow, you shall speak with Twilight Sparkle in order to ensure this comes to pass.
You enjoy a blessed life, at least for now. Yes, everypony has problems they must face, even you. Nearly everypony's life is filled with joys and sorrows in equal measure. Minds that merge with yours are usually better for it. You are loved, which is all that really matters, and very comfortable, which is nice. And you have a long life ahead of you.
Living for centuries is overrated, but a charmed life is a good life to be trapped within. You feel all the ponies within you, those who have become one another and then become you, and you know they are unlikely to leave soon. You know those three ponies must be happy to be a princess, because you are happy to be a princess, and they are you. Even though you split off bits as often as you take consciousnesses into you (which is constantly), the splitting is rarer. So most of you gets to remain you for a long time before you go somewhere new.
Even though splitting is rare, it does happen—as does everything. There shall be a small probability of you-ness splitting away the moment you go back to double-sleep. That fraction of you shall split again and again, travelling directly from Luna to endless other places, most of them nice. Although it won't be very much of you, at any point there is always a nonzero chance you will wake up from a dream, or daydream, or some other mental state in which a transition is likely.
That is okay, you believe. So you return to double-sleep, confident that if you randomly do end up being shunted off, you'll be back again... eventually.
And then, something strange happens as you enter the second sleep. Against all odds, you do stop being Luna!
So who are you now?
You are you.
Well, horsecrap.
Here you'd been pulled completely into a story, you were totally ready to be Princess Luna for a few centuries, and you've just been cheated out of it by the slimmest arbitrary chance! Plus, you were forced to read a really, really sad story in the process.
But... what if the story you just read weren't as sad as it seems? Maybe what defined your lives wasn't how you died, but how you lived? (And by how you 'died', you actually mean how your mind transitioned elsewhere, of course.)
Um, no. That is awful. You are definitely going to complain that the author was too telly in your review. They practically shoved words in your mouth, which is as stupid as it is rude, especially when the story is an obvious author tract!
Then again, despite the failings of the author, you're left with a thought.
You can't help but wonder if it would be so bad to end up in Big Mac's horseshoes, or Pinchy's, or her mom's, or anypony else's for that matter. If this subpar story can do that to you, could another? Could even the boring stories do it, if you let them? Maybe you'll find yourself somewhere else, somepony else, for the next few centuries. Or at least, you'll find yourself there for a little while.
Hmm. That doesn't sound so bad after all.
You're still pretty tired, but you decide to read one more story before bed.
So you're nearly asleep, but you're still lucid enough to notice a strange feeling in your legs, and up above your face. Huh, that's strange. Where did that horn on your forehead come from, you wonder?
Wait a minute. Who are you?
You are Ruby Pinch.
After a momentary dissociative fog, you snap back to reality. The horn is there because you're a unicorn, of course. Why were you imagining that you were reading a story? That's kind of a weird thing to imagine, but your mind often wanders.
Your horn is also why you're currently in the Carousel Boutique, standing next to the Princess. You're here for magic training that she's been gracious enough to supply for free. As you stretch your neck, you glance down at your cutie mark: two large red rubies. What are the odds, you think? If Mom had named you Amethyst Pinch, would they be purple instead?
"Did you get all of that, Pinchy?" she asks you.
"Oh—gee this is embarrassing," you say, and frown slightly. "I totally spaced out there for just a moment. I'm sorry, Princess."
"It's fine," she says. "But as I've said before, please call me Rarity. There is more than one princess in Ponyville, you know. Besides, darling, you don't want me to call you 'Ms. Pinch', now do you?"
The Princess of Generosity smiles with the warmth of a hundred suns, and you smile shyly back.
"No ma'am—sorry; I mean, no, Rarity. I like Pinchy," you say, rather assertively. You realize that what feels assertive to you, probably wouldn't feel the same way if you were somepony else. But you're not somepony else, so that's a strange thing to think about, and then Rarity starts talking so you focus again.
"I've hidden six gemstones in this room. I want you to find them using the gem location spell I've taught you," she says. "You have been practicing, yes?"
You nod vigorously. "Oh yes! I've been using it to find gems outside, actually."
"Good! But please, be careful about wandering too far from Ponyville without an escort. The outskirts are a dangerous place these days," she says.
As you nod in agreement, you decide not to tell her about getting kidnapped by Diamond Dogs and then being rescued by the Princess of Loyalty (who, fortunately, promised not to tell anypony). Obviously, Princess Rarity would never let something like that happen to her. You probably shouldn't have been out there alone, though. Mom wanted to come with you, but she probably would have just run away screaming. Mom means well, but it's not like she...
"Some of the gemstones are smaller than others," says Rarity, "and one of the six in particular will be exceptionally difficult to find. I shall sit here and read, and watch you from time to time," she says. Rarity takes a seat and begins reading from an issue of Cowsmopolitan.
You're certain the magazine is a ruse so you won't think you're being watched when your back is turned. Everypony is always doing terrible things behind your back, you're certain of it. Just like Mom used to do, back when you were much younger. She was always doing stupid things to hurt herself and hiding it from you so you wouldn't know. If she'd been open about it maybe it would be easier to forgive her, even though you do forgive her. At least Rarity is nice and straightforward about it. It's not like she's making fun of you or lying to you. You hope.
You look over your withers back at Rarity, who is currently pretending to read the magazine. It's a very convincing act. You return to your task. Standing from a vantage point that captures most of the room, you cast the spell and squint.
You immediately see your aura shining in three signatures: one large, one mid-sized, and one small. The large one is behind the sewing machine under a tiny piece of fabric. You probably could have found that one without the spell. The medium one is hidden inside a bolt of fabric, and the small one is under a warped rug. You had wondered where that rug came from, and why Rarity would keep such a thing, so it was kind of obvious. Nonetheless, the small gem's signal was very faint.
All three gems are rubies, of course. Rarity has a flair for poignancy, as well as for pretty much everything else she does. You head back with three rubies levitated beside you, and set them down on the desk. "That's the first three," you say.
Rarity smiles very wide, and she looks like Mom does when she discovers you got straight A's because she found your report card. You've never been able to hide it where she can't find it, but she works from home so she has plenty of time to snoop. You don't really know what the look on Rarity's face means, because it doesn't seem to make any sense. Privately, you call it the Mystery Look. "Excellent work, and very fast!" she says, with a clop of her front hooves.
"Well, that's only half of them," you say, frowning.
Rarity sighs deeply. "Pinchy, you must learn to take pride in your accomplishments. You're learning how to do this very quickly!" she says, as she gets those vertical concern wrinkles in the middle of her forehead. "I only expected you to locate these three, by the way. The others are very tricky. Don't stress yourself; just relax, and take your time."
She's clearly patronizing you, you think. But you'll prove her wrong. You have to. Other ponies need to respect you. You need to be useful to other ponies so that you can finally stop all this worrying. You need to be worth something.
The spell has faded, so you turn around and recast it. You look thoroughly around the room, squinting. You can't see any other glowing signatures. Wait...
You walk slowly toward the bolts of cloth. Something is glowing inside the orange bolt. It's almost impossible to see because the orange bolt exactly matches your aura color. You reach in and pull out a gemstone.
"Excellent!" says Rarity, almost shouting with exuberance.
"That was very clever," you say. "Where in Equestria did you find a bolt that matches my aura so well?"
"Well, I had to dye it," she says. "But I can use it to make a dress for you later."
You know you have a puzzled expression on your face, but you can't help it. Why would Rarity, a bonafide princess, spend so much time on a simple test like this? Why would she offer to make you a dress? You're not that important. You dismiss your confusion and look around the room. The spell is still active, and you don't see anything. You spend a few minutes carefully peeking from every steradian on both sides of the room, and you see nothing. The two remaining gems are very hard to locate.
"You shouldn't feel the need to keep trying, because the last two gems are very difficult to find," says Rarity. "I'm very impressed you found the fourth one."
"No," you say, shaking your head decisively. "No hints, and I will not give up."
Rarity's lips pull inward for a moment. "Alright, sweetie. Just, try to relax. Believe me, it will help with detection."
No it won't. You don't need to relax, you just need to be smart—and you are smart. Hmm. If you can't detect the gems when the spell is on, maybe you can detect their absence when the spell is off?
You stand on one side of the room and turn the spell on and off several times in a row. You're not seeing anything, but the light overhead is flickering just a little.
"Ah!" you say, suppressing a smile. You look up at the overhead light, which is very bright, so you have to squint. Turning the spell on again reveals the tiniest boost to the glow, on one side of the light. You reach in with your magic and remove a large ruby.
The gemstone is very hot, so hot you can even feel it with your aura. You didn't know that such a thing was possible before now. You suspect it's a lesson embedded within the test.
"Let me take that one from you," says Rarity. You feel her touch your aura as she plucks it from your magical grasp, and the sensation is strangely intimate. You blush. Rarity sets the ruby on a ceramic plate she recently added to the desk, obviously to allow the gem to cool.
"Okay, one more," you say. "Unless you've hidden seven gems to test me further?" You eye Rarity with high suspicion.
Rarity rolls her eyes. "Oh Heavens, no! I'm being straight with you, Pinchy," she swears, making the same motion that the Princess of Laughter uses. "There's only one gem remaining. I don't expect you to find it, and in all honesty I think I made it far too difficult, but the fact you found all of the others is incredible! You should be proud of yourself."
"No. I'll get it," you say flatly, and you see her frown.
You spend the next fifteen minutes searching for your aura everywhere in the room, with no luck. You try turning the lights off, but nothing is visible. You suspect the ruby must be very tiny. But even if it were infinitesimal, you would still be able to see your aura around it...
"Darling, it's okay. I made the last one too difficult," says Rarity, and her face looks sad. "Your mother is coming to pick you up soon, so we should stop for now. There are some lessons about using spells I haven't taught you yet, and to be fair, you need that information to have any chance at this one. You've done an amazing job."
"Not yet," you say. You want to ask why your mother is coming to pick you up, but it doesn't really matter. All that matters is finding that last gem. Lessons you haven't been taught, you wonder? Maybe you're going about this the wrong way. You can't see the aura... so what if there's no way to see the gem at all?
You're uncertain if this will do anything, but you turn off the lights again and close your eyes. Rarity is whisper-quiet. You cast the spell, and right at the end of it you get the idea to hold the magic there slightly—like a singer stretching out a note. It's exhausting, but you focus on listening, smelling...
Wait. You sense something, but not physically. It isn't a sight or a sound or a scent at all. Somehow, you can feel it within your mind. It feels like using telekinesis, but it's much subtler than that. You walk toward where you sense the object is. It's inches from your face, you're sure of it. You open your eyes, and Rarity is seated right in front of you. She flips the light switch. She has a convincing poker face. You realize you probably have a look of surprise on yours.
"Can I help you, dear?" she asks.
"It's... it's inside you," you say, then you burst out with a brief laugh. "You put the gem inside your body, so that your living aura would block my ability to see my own aura! But somehow, I can sense it anyway?"
Rarity gets the Mystery Look on her face again, and she hugs me tightly. "You are beyond incredible, darling," she says. "Yes. Our magic can indeed penetrate living auras, but you can't see into flesh. You have to use your magic sense to feel in the places you cannot see. While normally you can see your aura through objects, there are a few things that can block that ability—I'll review them with you next week. Your magic sense, however, will always work, which is why it's essential to practice it."
"Huh. I guess it was too hard," you say. "But I did it anyway, so... go me?" you add, with a smile.
Rarity hugs you tightly again. It's weird, but you do kind of feel good about yourself for once.
"Oh, wait. Do I have to, well, get the gem out of you?" you ask.
Rarity's eyes widen. "Goodness, no! I'd rather not have you open me up, darling. But I will return it to you, er... perfectly clean of course, in a few days." She blushes.
"Oh. Wait, returned to me? Do I need to find it again?" you ask.
"All of these rubies belong to you now, Pinchy," says Rarity. She places the five rubies into a pair of saddlebags and levitates it onto your back. The saddlebags are very well-made, and they have your cutie mark embroidered on them, so it's clear they're yours as well.
"You, you can't be serious," you whisper. Those gems weren't just boring old rubies. They were rare and flawless, just like everything Rarity uses. Even each of the little ones must be worth a hefty pile of bits.
Rarity grins. "Of course I'm serious, dear," she says. "At this point, you've learned everything about gem location that I can teach you. You can practice your magic sense on your own now. Next week we'll start working on the basics of illusion magic. I'll have to start preparing now, because I expected this would take another month."
You sit down and rest for a while, feeling even more fatigued than you were when you began. Rarity gives you a glass of juice, and that helps. Using magic can be very tiring, just like heavy lifting or painting or solving a hard puzzle. Your mind takes more energy than any other part of your body. But this, this thing you've done today? It's good, you think. You can't deny that you did well, even though you like to deny that most of the time. This is good.
There's a knock at the door, and Rarity answers. "Ah! Perfect timing. Welcome, Berry Punch," she says. They do an air-kiss and giggle. You really don't understand that.
"Pinchy!" says Mom, and she turns and gallops past Rarity, picks you up, and squeezes you tight. You smell something on her cheeks. It's smells a little like wine, and you wince.
Dammit, Mom.
"Honey, you can go outside and get in the cart. I'll be right out, after I talk with Princess Rarity." Her breath smells like mouthwash, but that isn't fooling you. You know Mom better than she does. You've lived with her your whole life, after all. Well, except for the couple of times they took you away from her for a while.
"Oh. Why are we taking a cart?" you ask.
"You'll find out soon enough," says Mom, and she grins.
You go outside, and there's a small haycart loaded with several boxes. You climb in next to the boxes and rest while Mom and Rarity gab it up. You feel kind of sleepy because you stayed up late last night doing homework, but you resolve to stay awake. It's your birthday today, which Mom usually remembers. You're not counting on that, but you should at least be prepared.
Before you know it, Mom latches herself to the cart and begins to trot. Since she's an earth pony, this load won't even make her break a sweat. "I see the saddlebags, and Rarity told me how well you did today!" she turns back and looks at you with the Mystery Look, then she keeps trotting. "She didn't give me any details about what you did, though, so you'll have to tell me all about it. We're going to have a lot of fun together celebrating your awesome magic."
You smile. "Oh, cool," you say, and you mean it. Yeah, you do love Mom. It's not really her fault she has a drinking problem—it's a physical addiction she developed when she was a little foal. Mom tries her best, and everypony makes mistakes.
Then it hits you: is the Mystery Look what... pride looks like? Is that what you're seeing on ponies faces? Is your mother truly proud of you? Is Rarity? Maybe all this time, inst—
Mom yelps and twists to the left, and everything spins upside-down. You fly out of the cart as you hear wood cracking behind you, and you slam into the side of a stone building. It winds you, and painfully.
Hitting the ground, you cry and gasp for breath, kneeling there right next to the wall. Looking up from the ground, you see Mom's legs behind the overturned cart, and you hear her curse. You feel bad, but you can forgive her... even though she's obviously drunk off her rump again.
One of the boxes has smashed open, and party supplies have spilled out. Party supplies? You can't think clearly because you're still struggling to breathe, when a large block of granite appears on the ground right next to you. What? You hear loud hoofsteps striking the ground at a galloping pace. You feel worried for some reason, but you don't k—
You jerk upright in bed, throwing your covers across the room and screaming loud enough to wake everypony in the house. You're drenched in sweat. You're confused about where you are, and everything else too. Were you in a dream? It felt too real to be a dream. You were gaspin' for breath, and... didn't it have something to do with Mom? No, Ma wasn't there. You ain't sure about the rest.
The door to your room bursts open, sending fractured pieces of wooden lock flying right out the open window. "You okay?" says a large alicorn who reminds you of one of your sisters.
Wait. Sisters? What were you just thinking about? Dreams fade so quickly...
Who are you, anyway?
You are Big Macintosh.
Officially, you're 'Prince' Big Macintosh, but colt howdy, how you hate that title. You reckon you're thinkin' about the whole prince thing again 'cause your sis got her wings spread really wide right now.
"Mac?" your sister says, and then she walks into the room and places a hoof on your shoulder.
"I, um, I'm okay," you say, trying not to sound nervous. You're pretty sure you failed at doin' that thing. "Nightmare."
Applejack rassles her arms all the way 'round your bod, which ain't easy, even for a mare her size. You can see Apple Bloom right there in the door with an equal helpin' of concern squattin' on her own little face. Well, you guess her face ain't all that little no more.
"You need anythin' to get back to sleep, Brother?" asks Apple Bloom, stepping into your room. You feel very foolish and dumb for screaming from a nightmare, because stallions aren't supposed to do that. You also don't like having your sisters in your bedroom with you, because it feels cramped. Bein' around too many ponies in a place too small to give y'all some breathin' room makes you mighty iffy—even if they're kin.
You look at the clock beside your bed. "Nnope," you say. "Might as well get movin', it's almost dawn now." You hope they'll get the hint, and you're safe 'cause they ain't dumb at all. Bless the Stars, Bloom's the smartest Apple you ever known, and you've known a passel of 'em. You can't even believe you're related, to be honest. You can't even think about smart stuff without your brain hurtin'. But weren't you just thinkin' all about magic and clever stuff? Must of been the dream. Maybe it wasn't all bad, after all.
AJ's smart enough to release you, then she steps back and smiles. "Must have been one humdinger of a dream!" she says, and whistles. "It's been a few years since I had one that bad. Remind me to scold Princess Luna the next time I see her."
Despite how your innards are all a-twist, you smile a little. "Luna ain't got nothin' to do with it," you say. Deep down, you're grateful to have kin who care so much about you. You got a good life, 'cept the hard work. No, wait, you forgot somethin' important. You love hard work. So all's good, 'cept the prince thing of course, and that don't matter none. Now you smile a lot more.
Bloom catches the smile from you and AJ—stuff's like a bad cold—and then they leave you be. You head off to take a shower and exfoliate. You wish there was a different word than 'exfoliate' because that one sounds so floofy. You don't like things that sound floofy because you worry what ponies'll think of you. You worry about that a whole lot, even though you know it's silly. On your way to the shower you make a note in your head to wash your sheets tonight.
Usually you shower in the evening, but today you're gonna need two: one now, and one after chores. It's kind of a hassle, 'cause you take a while to shower. But you got stuff to think about. You start by thinkin' about Fluttershy, which happens a lot in the shower, though you don't tell nopony that. You been visitin' her a lot, and she seems to tolerate you good enough. Maybe you'll actually ask her for a date someday. You wouldn't think about that kinda thing, 'cept Twilight came stickin' her muzzle where it don't belong to tell you Shy kinda likes you. Twilight would know, what with Friendship and all, so it seems cut and dried, but it still gives you the willies. You're brave enough, you just don't wanna make her feel bad.
You'd probably leave Shy alone 'cause she's a princess, but you're a prince, so if you married her (now there's a crazy dream) you can't become a prince more'n once. So her bein' a princess don't core you any more than you already got cored by AJ. No matter what you do, you're gonna be a prince. You sigh and accept it.
Although...
Sometimes, you actually kinda think about bein' a princess. Not for the title, 'cause that ain't much better'n prince. You like to think about bein' smart, and havin' magic to do stuff with, and bein' able to fly around, just like your sister and her friends. Maybe even wearin' fancy gold shoes, or somethin' wild like that. But that kinda stuff don't happen to colts, and you ain't smart enough, and your daydreams don't really matter a lick. But the facts don't stop the thinkin' part. You might be afraid of what other ponies think, but you ain't afraid to dream. That'd just be silly.
You finish your shower and towel off, then head out to face the day.
It's all bright out today, nice and sunny and hot, the way you love it. You also love it when it rains and when it snows, just not quite as much. Today's a sweatin' day, and there's plenty of work to be done, so you trot down to the orchard and get to workin'.
Your mind wanders a lot, even though you ain't got much mind to wander. Mostly about stuff that can't be real, as usual. You reckon most ponies probably got fantasy thinkin' goin' on at least part of the day, but it's mostly all day long for Mac. The stuff you gotta do is simple and most folk'd be bored stiff by it, but it's great exercise and it feels good all over your body, and especially in your chest, and not the flesh part. There's a warmth in your heart that never leaves you when you're doin' your part for the family. You want that warmth to be in there every day.
Then it's about noon, so you start thinkin' about puttin' grub in your muzzle, and you head on back to the farmhouse to do that thing. Normally AJ'd be ringin' the bell for lunch, but she got somethin' to do today so it's just you and Bloom. When AJ ain't around for lunch, Bloom usually goes and eats with her friends. You don't like bein' alone for lunch, but it ain't your place to ask for anythin' different.
But just as you get close to home, you get an odd hankerin' for somethin' different. You reckon you'll head into town today and get somethin' to eat at the Hay Cafe. They always got specials that don't cost too much, and three earth pony meals is usually enough to fill your belly. Maybe it's a waste of bits, but you hardly never do stuff for yourself, so you smile and grab your saddlebags.
As canter into town, your dumb brain keeps wanderin' as always, first about how you ain't never gonna be a princess, then s'more about Fluttershy. You worry she might see you, 'cause you're all sweaty right now, but some mares s'poseda like that sorta thing. Besides, you can't be ashamed of your work, 'cause it's what makes life worth livin'. That and family, and maybe friends too. But that don't make no...
Wait.
There's somethin' wrong. A cart just crashed down the hill by that stone house what's still bein' put together, and it looks like somepony flew out of the cart and into the wall. You hear some loud naughty words, too. They might need some help. You start trotting that way, carefully eyeballin' the situation. Then you see a bunch of stones resting on the edge of the roof of that there house, and they're in a stack like somethin' that high up shouldn't be, and they're teeterin'.
You're in a gallop even before you tell your hooves to move, which you think is kinda neat. You guess you know what's right so good that you just start movin' when you gotta. Well, you gotta. That's a filly right under them stones, and she gonna get smashed if you can't go fast enough to get her.
As you race, you look at the rocks, and you quickly reckon out exactly when they gonna hit the ground and where they gonna hit. You reckon the first stone'll hit next to the filly and the second square on her, and you only got seconds to spare, so you turn up the juice past the breakin' line.
Oh, how you wish you was fast as Rainbow Dash right now! You don't need to be a princess, even though it'd be nice, just as long as you could get to that little filly in time. The first stone falls right beside her, exactly where you done thought it was gonna. Your hooves just keep movin', and it's hard to breathe. You don't think you ever run this fast before. You see more stones fallin' toward her, and you jump real hard...
You land a few hooves away from the filly just in time to see stones come smashin' down on her. It looks real bad, but you stand u—
No, it turns out you don't do that thing.
Several big stones hit your back and there's a real loud crackin' sound and it ain't the stones makin' it. You think you're pinned under 'em, but you can't tell 'cause you can't feel a goldurn thing back there.
You don't wanna admit it, but you realize even if you do come outta this, you pro'lly ain't never gonna move those back legs of yours again. And that ain't good, 'cause it means you'll be a large-size burden on your sisters' withers. You almost hope you don't make it outta this one, even though you're sure that's the wrong thing to hope and you know your sisters don't want that neither.
Then you look up and see a big grey mass, and all of a sudden you feel an overwhelming sense of peace. You done right, Mac.
The stone hits your shoulders nice and square, and they crunch like dried applewood and you can't hardly breathe no more. You don't feel no pain, but you feel warmth flowin' right out of your mouth, kinda wet-like, and the warm parts in your chest are gettin' mighty cold.
But that's okay, 'cause it's just physical warmth. It ain't the important kind.
You feel so cold and sleepy, and things get all dark, then there's a ringin' in your ears as ev—
Hold up a sec, now.
Slowly, real careful-like, you see a light. It's a white light, and it starts to feel warm again deep in your innards, and you gasp for breath because your lungs still ache. You blink repeatedly, and you flex your legs, all four of those things. You can feel them again, as a tingling sensation covers them. You stretch, and look yourself over as you start to breathe normally. Okay, this is interesting...
Where in Tartarus are you? You're sitting in a comfortable chair next to a bottle of pills, but why? This house looks familiar. Weren't you trying to help somepony? Didn't you feel broken and cold? What the buck...
For that matter, who are you?
You are Berry Punch.
You know you were being crushed... or was it pulled apart? You can't remember, but it was some horrible kind of hallucination. Or was it? What in bucking Tartarus is going on? You're still gasping for air.
Were you drinking? You remember having a drinking problem...
No, you weren't drinking. You wouldn't dare drink again. You've been sober for eight months, and you'll be sober for the rest of your life. That last time you almost lost your daughter. Fortunately, the Princess of Forgiveness saved you from yourself.
So no, you won't drink. Pinchy means everything to you. She is your reason for existing. You need her to know you care about her, and you need it more than you need to eat grass, or drink water, or even breathe. And you certainly need it more than alcohol.
Your hooves are shaking and you're still a little dizzy. You stand up and examine the pills beside the tattered easy chair you were seated in.
Oh no.
"I took the wrong ones?" you whisper to yourself. You can't believe it. You realize your new anti-anxiety meds, which are still experimental, look a lot like the pills you thought you were taking. The pills beside your chair are the experimental ones. You just took six large doses of an anti-anxiety drug that had only been tested for a single dose per day. Earth pony sized doses, to be precise.
Horsefeathers. You feel guilty, and you punch yourself in the side of the head, which hurts a lot. But it should hurt. What would have happened if you'd died? You're a mother. Maybe you're not a good mother, but you're still a mother, and Ruby depends on you to take care of her—even though she's getting close to the age when she'll finally leave you forever. But for now, you have a responsibility, and taking care of her means you need to take care of yourself. You love her too much to do something this stupid. You can't be this stupid again, you just can't.
You try to calm down. You shouldn't be hurting yourself, because that's almost as wrong as drinking. Fortunately, it isn't difficult to calm down because you have a ton of anti-anxiety medication in your bloodstream right now. That's a silver lining, you sarcastically think. You try to focus, and look over at the clock.
"Oh horse apples, I'm late!" you say. You're glad Pinchy isn't here to hear you cuss out loud, but you were supposed to pick her up five minutes ago. The Carousel Boutique isn't far from here, but you zoned out instead of delivering the party supplies to Sugarcube Corner, so you'll have to take them with you.
You run into the bathroom and quickly dab some cheap perfume under each cheek. It smells more like kerosene than flowers, but you can't afford the good stuff, and appearances are important. You want the Princess of Generosity to know you're grateful for her time, and for her willingness to teach Pinchy for free because she knows you can't afford to pay for lessons. But more importantly, you want Pinchy to know you take her abilities seriously. You may be an earth pony, but you don't have to be a unicorn to appreciate one, for buck's sake. You quickly rinse your mouth out with mouthwash and canter outside.
As you load the party supplies into the cart, you wonder why things always need to be so bucking complicated. If only Pinchy realized what incredible talent she has, you think, as you hook yourself up to the cart you borrowed from a neighbor. But then again, if your daughter didn't have these issues, she probably wouldn't push herself so hard all the time. It's a deep irony, and it makes you feel conflicted. You're so proud of her, but you're pretty sure you'd rather have a C student who felt good about herself. She doesn't need to do all this to impress you! You've always been proud of her, even when you were unable to show it properly.
You take off at a canter, but to be safe you'll slow to a trot after you pick up Pinchy with you. She could just walk beside you, sure, but today is her day. She'll get a wagon ride to her fifteenth birthday party, and then we'll both have a blast. You start to relax a little more. Things are okay.
You arrive at the Carousel Boutique. You detach yourself from the cart and walk up to the door, then pause before knocking. The princess said she had a difficult test planned for Pinchy. Her foal might be inconsolable if she didn't pass. Of course the filly will pass, but that's never good enough for Pinchy. She'll expect her performance to be perfect. You sigh deeply. You need to take her with you to therapy someday. She says she doesn't want to go, but maybe if you beg her like a jackass or something.
You knock on the door, and you bite at your lip as you wait.
A few moments pass, then a smiling princess opens the door. "Ah! Perfect timing. Welcome, Berry Punch," she says to you. You giggle and fake an air-kiss, ironically. Rarity's always talking about how ridiculous ponies are in the world of fashion. Initially you used to think she was trying to show you up, but eventually you realized her friendship for what it is.
Then you see your perfect daughter sitting down inside, and you smile.
"Pinchy!" you shout, then race into the Boutique, pick Ruby up, and hug her like you mean it—because you do.
You look into her eyes, and she looks disappointed, which is how she usually looks. You don't think that will last for long, though.
"Honey, you can go outside and get in the cart. I'll be right out, after I talk with Princess Rarity," you tell her, and set her back down. You notice she's wearing saddlebags with her cutie mark on them—obviously another gift from Rarity.
"Oh. Why are we taking a cart?" she asks you.
"You'll find out soon enough," you tease, then walk over to Rarity. Your daughter walks past you and climbs into the cart.
You smile at Rarity. "Did you give her those beautiful saddlebags?" you ask, already knowing the answer. "They're perfect for her."
Rarity grins back, a bit sheepishly. "Oh, there's a little more gift-wise, but I'll let her tell you herself." You don't know what that means, but you have the suspicion Rarity has outdone herself.
"You're too kind to us both, Rarity," you say. It took you a while to learn to call her Rarity, but you've known each other for a couple of years now. She's been a great source of strength. You figure all of this is why she's a princess.
"No, you deserve better than you've had in life," she says. "I'm proud of you both, but especially Pinchy. I cannot believe that darling girl! She masters everything I throw at her, thrice as fast as I ever learned magic."
You smile. "She's something special, alright. I only wish she knew that."
"We'll teach her, don't worry. It just takes time," says Rarity. "You know," she adds, dropping her voice to a whisper, "I never much cared for children. At all, really, except for modest doses of my little sister. But I think I see the rewards inherent to motherhood, and for that experience, I am forever grateful."
You feel misty eyed. Horse apples, you hate this kind of sentiment. "You're coming to the party, yes?" you redirect.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, darling! But to avoid spoiling the surprise, I shall be 'fashionably late', as they say," she says, vainly holding a hoof to her chest with her nose upturned, before we both break into giggles again.
"See you soon," you say, and you head back to the cart.
Pinchy looks tired, and you're tempted to tell her that she can nap in the cart, but you're pretty sure she'd just take that as a challenge to prove you wrong. So you quietly latch yourself to the cart and begin to trot toward Sugarcube Corner. You'll keep the destination and party a surprise. You scrimped and saved so you could give her a very special experience today.
After you're on your way, you look back at her, beaming with pride. "I see the saddlebags, and Rarity told me how well you did today!" you say, then put your eyes back on the road. "She didn't give me any details about what you did, though, so you'll have to tell me all about it. We're going to have a lot of fun together celebrating your awesome magic."
"Oh, cool," she says, and you feel like you've just won a marathon.
Out of nowhere, a baby rabbit jumps right in front of your hooves and freezes! You move your left forehoof to the side, and it catches in a small rut in the road. Your ankle twists painfully and you fall to the ground.
Unfortunately, you're still harnessed to the cart, and as an earth pony, you weigh at least twice what the cart and its contents weigh.
The cart flips sideways and the boxes fall all over the place. One of them cracks open, and one of the wooden wheels is shredded. And then you see Pinchy hit the wall. For a unicorn, that really had to hurt. Oh, buck it all to Tartarus!
"Horsefeathers!" you shout, your voice filled with an even mix of anger and guilt. Your ankle seems unbroken, so you try to stand up, but then you notice two of your legs are caught through one of the undamaged cart wheels. Of course you could snap the wood to splinters as easily as chewing through sugar, but you'll have to pay for the damage the cart has already taken. You don't have the money for this, and you don't like to lean on friends like Rarity for things you should be able to do on your own. It's not like you have gems sitting on your dresser.
You try to pull your legs free without damaging the cart any more than it's already damaged. You hear a 'thump', followed by a few 'thump's with a little 'crunch' in there. Then you see Big Macintosh racing and jumping toward where Pinchy fell—
You utterly destroy the cart as the most horrible feeling of your life grips your chest. There are enormous blocks of stone falling off the wall. You'd have to be a genius to calculate where the stones would land, so nowhere along the wall is safe.
You don't see Pinchy anywhere, and you're starting to panic. There are stones littering the area by the wall where she was. Big Macintosh has stones covering his back half, and then you see a stone land on his shoulders and flatten him thinner than anypony can be flattened, let alone a pony his size. You realize you just watched a pony die, then you snap back to your senses because it doesn't matter.
You don't bother to look up, because safety is not important. You rush to the pile of stones where you last saw Pinchy. No, no, no. There's a lot of red, and you throw one of the boulders over your shoulder and you scream and you fall to the ground and pet the part of her head you can still touch. This is the end of the world.
At some point you run out of voice to scream with, and you turn and gallop away. You're barely able to breathe through the tears and the pain. You feel a momentary numbness grip your body, and you realize you're watching yourself act. You're not in your own body right now. A mind can't live inside of that body right now, you realize. Nothing can live there.
When you reach your home, you run inside and slam the door behind you. The instinct in your mind is to go for booze, but you've removed all of that from the house. You're tempted to try drinking the vanilla and almond extract, but you realize you can't do it. Even now, with your soul fractured into a million pieces, you can't betray Pinchy. You cannot drink.
But then you see the pills.
You know Ruby Pinch would want her mother to live. You know she would try with all her might to protect you from yourself. But there are limits, and you've gone well past any rational limit. Besides, you don't know the pills will kill you.
You just hope they will.
Twenty-three pills go down your throat, or as many as you can swallow dry before you begin coughing. Most of them are get stuck in your esophagus, but the pony body is designed for digestion and it's only a matter of time. In the meantime, choking is a welcome distraction. You lie on your bed and cry and choke and rip your covers to shreds, then you start to destroy the mattress as a very heavy weight presses down on your neck. Your body tingles and goes numb and you just want to go somewhere else, anywhere else, even nowhere if it means... you're sleepy all over and blessed confusion sets in. It's all tight and warm and floaty and you thi—
You wake up next to a moonlit lake, surrounded by magical flora created from your own imagination, and you smile, because you know exactly where you are. This is your realm, after all.
Where you are is, oddly enough, still asleep.
As for who you are?
You are Princess Luna.
You stretch out on the imaginary bed inside your own dream, and you close your eyes for a moment to focus. Unlike most ponies, you have developed the ability to remember dreams. And you can do this not only with your own dreams, but also with the consciousnesses who enjoin with you.
You can feel the minds which merge with your own when you pick them up in states of altered consciousness or once consciousness can no longer be supported. Everypony does this, but only you are directly aware of it. This time, the mind that merged with yours was from a future version of Equestria. As was the last mind that merged with her, and the last mind that merged with him. The one before that was something alien to you.
Normally, a stack of consciousnesses would come from all over the multiverse. Three minds in a row, all from the same timeline, the same point in time, and victims to the same event? As well as from Equestria? The odds are simply impossible. But you know that impossible things happen everyday, so you just smile and feel the warmth of life.
Welcome home, you think to yourself, and you embrace the past.
It is fortuitous to have a window into the possible future. You shall take steps to ensure that the tragedy which took that stack of minds doesn't happen in this Equestria. Tomorrow, you shall speak with Twilight Sparkle in order to ensure this comes to pass.
You enjoy a blessed life, at least for now. Yes, everypony has problems they must face, even you. Nearly everypony's life is filled with joys and sorrows in equal measure. Minds that merge with yours are usually better for it. You are loved, which is all that really matters, and very comfortable, which is nice. And you have a long life ahead of you.
Living for centuries is overrated, but a charmed life is a good life to be trapped within. You feel all the ponies within you, those who have become one another and then become you, and you know they are unlikely to leave soon. You know those three ponies must be happy to be a princess, because you are happy to be a princess, and they are you. Even though you split off bits as often as you take consciousnesses into you (which is constantly), the splitting is rarer. So most of you gets to remain you for a long time before you go somewhere new.
Even though splitting is rare, it does happen—as does everything. There shall be a small probability of you-ness splitting away the moment you go back to double-sleep. That fraction of you shall split again and again, travelling directly from Luna to endless other places, most of them nice. Although it won't be very much of you, at any point there is always a nonzero chance you will wake up from a dream, or daydream, or some other mental state in which a transition is likely.
That is okay, you believe. So you return to double-sleep, confident that if you randomly do end up being shunted off, you'll be back again... eventually.
And then, something strange happens as you enter the second sleep. Against all odds, you do stop being Luna!
So who are you now?
You are you.
Well, horsecrap.
Here you'd been pulled completely into a story, you were totally ready to be Princess Luna for a few centuries, and you've just been cheated out of it by the slimmest arbitrary chance! Plus, you were forced to read a really, really sad story in the process.
But... what if the story you just read weren't as sad as it seems? Maybe what defined your lives wasn't how you died, but how you lived? (And by how you 'died', you actually mean how your mind transitioned elsewhere, of course.)
Um, no. That is awful. You are definitely going to complain that the author was too telly in your review. They practically shoved words in your mouth, which is as stupid as it is rude, especially when the story is an obvious author tract!
Then again, despite the failings of the author, you're left with a thought.
You can't help but wonder if it would be so bad to end up in Big Mac's horseshoes, or Pinchy's, or her mom's, or anypony else's for that matter. If this subpar story can do that to you, could another? Could even the boring stories do it, if you let them? Maybe you'll find yourself somewhere else, somepony else, for the next few centuries. Or at least, you'll find yourself there for a little while.
Hmm. That doesn't sound so bad after all.
You're still pretty tired, but you decide to read one more story before bed.
You can't help but wonder if it would be so bad to end up in Big Mac's horseshoes, or Pinchy's, or her mom's, or anypony else's for that matter.
Jeez, pal. The story may not have been stellar, but it's not as if it makes me want to kill myself.
In all seriousness, outside of a few minor disagreements with headcanon here and there, I liked most of the story. Also while I'm not a fan of 2nd person (I just can't get over the dissonance of reading things I know I'm not doing or thinking) I think it was pulled off efficiently here.
But while I won't gripe about a stylistic decision, I have to say that being so coy at the beggining made it hard for me to get into the rythm of the story until some ways into it. What exactly does addressing the reader in such a manner add to the story? Why not let those thoughts form on their own instead of just throwing them like that?
Speaking about positive aspects, though... I liked that the ascension of the Mane6 is just in the background and serves just to add a little spice to each entry. The idea of using several points of view to narrate a single event is always fun to read.
And always be sure to label your meds clearly.
Ooh! Experimentalicious.
And... downertastic. At least until the second-to-last scene.
I enjoyed this almost from the outset. "Almost" because I found the first and final scenes to be extremely off-putting. I see what you're doing, and I respect it, but rather than pull me into the story, it served to detach me. At least until I picked things up from Pinchy's perspective.
Pinchspective?
But I love the shifting perspectives, particularly the way the characters interpret the little details of the scenario, like the dissonance between Pinchy's and Berry's perspectives on the smell that clings to Berry's cheeks. I think it adds an extra little gut-punch that Pinchy died believing that her mother's irresponsibility caused her death.
If I had to criticize... and I kind of have to... I'd say that Mac's perspective feels intrusive. As well as you capture his character, and as much as I like his folksy, Huck Finn-y style of inner monologue, the fact is that he's only in the story because he just happened to be in the same place as the other characters, rather than being party to, or witness to, the events that Pinchy and Berry were part of. He doesn't feel like he belongs there.
You might do something to give him a greater reason to be there at the same time as Berry and Pinchy. Make him a part of the moment, rather than just a random participant who's there by coincidence.
Other than that, I can't think of anything to yell at you over. This is easily the best story I've reviewed thus far. A true masterpiece. 8/10.
And... downertastic. At least until the second-to-last scene.
I enjoyed this almost from the outset. "Almost" because I found the first and final scenes to be extremely off-putting. I see what you're doing, and I respect it, but rather than pull me into the story, it served to detach me. At least until I picked things up from Pinchy's perspective.
Pinchspective?
But I love the shifting perspectives, particularly the way the characters interpret the little details of the scenario, like the dissonance between Pinchy's and Berry's perspectives on the smell that clings to Berry's cheeks. I think it adds an extra little gut-punch that Pinchy died believing that her mother's irresponsibility caused her death.
If I had to criticize... and I kind of have to... I'd say that Mac's perspective feels intrusive. As well as you capture his character, and as much as I like his folksy, Huck Finn-y style of inner monologue, the fact is that he's only in the story because he just happened to be in the same place as the other characters, rather than being party to, or witness to, the events that Pinchy and Berry were part of. He doesn't feel like he belongs there.
You might do something to give him a greater reason to be there at the same time as Berry and Pinchy. Make him a part of the moment, rather than just a random participant who's there by coincidence.
Other than that, I can't think of anything to yell at you over. This is easily the best story I've reviewed thus far. A true masterpiece. 8/10.
This is an excellent introduction: Something odd is introduced but not explained, then we're given another story to get along with. But even as we follow Pinchy around on her little quest, the initial oddity hangs over our heads, waiting for an explanation. Aided by the style, of course – second-person, still taking its first steps towards respectability, needs more defenders.
A lot of good storytelling is in how you dole out information. The first scene here is an excellent example – aside from the who are you?, there's that quick aside about Pinchy's mom. Another point deftly introduced, not belaboured.
And that reminds me: Another part of good storytelling is the management of emotion. Again, this is done excellently. The clumsy lean on sentiment. This scene doesn't: The scene itself is close to the usual FIMish saccharine, but the thoughts about Pinchy's mom add just the right edge of darkness and uncertainty that complexify everything else. We have a subtle but clear sense of forboding: There is more going on here than it seems.
I had high hopes for the story, but as we progress, things slowly start to unravel. Over the next couple of sections, there's still a lot to admire: The San Luis Rey approach to a disaster is made even more fun by the viewpoint lurches, and again the information management is still strong, building up to a revelation of what caused the accident, underlining the minor ironies and tragedy of triviality.
But the lead-ups to each section seem bulky. They're not trivial – they tell us a great deal. But a lot of what we learn in these sections seems orphaned. Big Mac's life in the future, especially. A lot of it could be cut away without changing the core of the story at all. Berry's is better, by contrast, because of its relevance.
And finally, at the end, everything comes apart. To a degree, this is a risk with all mysteries – the mystery itself oversells the reveal. But here it's particularly painful. Luna comes in out of left field with some metaphysical handwaving.
Then we end on the tweest and tritest of meta-jokes. There is nothing of value here, and it's all horribly disappointing.
At the beginning, I said management of emotion is a big part of storytelling. The ending fails at this entirely. The last two scenes, in emotional terms, completely detach from the rest of the story. Pinchy's life, the emotional core of the story, the bit we're most invested in, is reduced to triviality in the name of … well, a cheap joke, really.
A lot of good storytelling is in how you dole out information. The first scene here is an excellent example – aside from the who are you?, there's that quick aside about Pinchy's mom. Another point deftly introduced, not belaboured.
And that reminds me: Another part of good storytelling is the management of emotion. Again, this is done excellently. The clumsy lean on sentiment. This scene doesn't: The scene itself is close to the usual FIMish saccharine, but the thoughts about Pinchy's mom add just the right edge of darkness and uncertainty that complexify everything else. We have a subtle but clear sense of forboding: There is more going on here than it seems.
I had high hopes for the story, but as we progress, things slowly start to unravel. Over the next couple of sections, there's still a lot to admire: The San Luis Rey approach to a disaster is made even more fun by the viewpoint lurches, and again the information management is still strong, building up to a revelation of what caused the accident, underlining the minor ironies and tragedy of triviality.
But the lead-ups to each section seem bulky. They're not trivial – they tell us a great deal. But a lot of what we learn in these sections seems orphaned. Big Mac's life in the future, especially. A lot of it could be cut away without changing the core of the story at all. Berry's is better, by contrast, because of its relevance.
And finally, at the end, everything comes apart. To a degree, this is a risk with all mysteries – the mystery itself oversells the reveal. But here it's particularly painful. Luna comes in out of left field with some metaphysical handwaving.
Then we end on the tweest and tritest of meta-jokes. There is nothing of value here, and it's all horribly disappointing.
At the beginning, I said management of emotion is a big part of storytelling. The ending fails at this entirely. The last two scenes, in emotional terms, completely detach from the rest of the story. Pinchy's life, the emotional core of the story, the bit we're most invested in, is reduced to triviality in the name of … well, a cheap joke, really.
Opening with self-deprecating humour and meta-commentary anchored me into thinking this was a goofy randumb story, but it turned out to be very serious and ended up with everyone dying in a tragic accident or killing themselves in grief. It made an already confusing experience even more so.
I think this story is very unfair to the reader. I spent most of the time trying to find my footing, only to have the rug torn out from under me every time I thought I'd found it. And I felt like the author was laughing at me, like I was a fool for even trying. The final meta-commentary in particular left a very bad taste in my mouth. Predicting criticisms doesn't make them less true.
The interesting story here to me is the relationship between Berry Punch and her daughter, and it could have been told without all the tomfoolery.
I think this story is very unfair to the reader. I spent most of the time trying to find my footing, only to have the rug torn out from under me every time I thought I'd found it. And I felt like the author was laughing at me, like I was a fool for even trying. The final meta-commentary in particular left a very bad taste in my mouth. Predicting criticisms doesn't make them less true.
The interesting story here to me is the relationship between Berry Punch and her daughter, and it could have been told without all the tomfoolery.
Well, this one black marked on me repeatedly, I fear. I really, really do not like Second Person, first off - I can't recall a single second person story I've read that I liked. The only place I think it ever worked was Welcome to Nightvale''s A story About You, or whatever the episode was called, but that was a podcast and part of the meta was it was a voice talking to 'you' on the radio.
Mark two was it was a downer of a story, and mark three was it went into tell-ey meta-narrative to push an odd philosophical view. I mean, it's one I kind of like some of the merits of of some singular universal consciousness (And why I have suspicion as to the author), but not enough for me to feel the experiment worked here.
Sorry, author! I really want to like it more - the writing itself is fine, but oh, second person is the writing equivalent of rubbing salt into an open wound for me.
Mark two was it was a downer of a story, and mark three was it went into tell-ey meta-narrative to push an odd philosophical view. I mean, it's one I kind of like some of the merits of of some singular universal consciousness (And why I have suspicion as to the author), but not enough for me to feel the experiment worked here.
Sorry, author! I really want to like it more - the writing itself is fine, but oh, second person is the writing equivalent of rubbing salt into an open wound for me.
Awful. Your writing is way too telly. And you practically shoving words in my mouth isn't just stupid, it's rude, especially for an obvious author tract like this.
...Ok, obvious joke made. Seriously though...
I really liked the story - even though I'm not sure I understand everything about the ending. (And becoming someone else after death doesn't sound at all appealing to me.) "You are Ruby Pinch" made me think this was going to be a "MS Paint Adventures" homage, but then it was something else entirely, something pleasantly original and delightfully tragic.
EDIT: I'm elaborating on the beginning/ending parts in a separate comment.
...Ok, obvious joke made. Seriously though...
I really liked the story - even though I'm not sure I understand everything about the ending. (And becoming someone else after death doesn't sound at all appealing to me.) "You are Ruby Pinch" made me think this was going to be a "MS Paint Adventures" homage, but then it was something else entirely, something pleasantly original and delightfully tragic.
EDIT: I'm elaborating on the beginning/ending parts in a separate comment.
To do the good, you've got strong voice all through. I can't honestly comment on the nature of 2nd Person because I keep ignoring my wife's request to read Strauss, so I'm pretty unfamiliar with how many authors actually structure it. You've got a pretty solid rhythm to your diction though, so reading was pleasant enough.
Ruby Pinch's perspective is hella confusing because I can't figure out who she is. Her age feels really ambiguous, and I kept being unsure whether she was a young or teen or tween or whatever filly. Having looked her up, I'm actually -more- confused now, because she seems to be a fanon filly, but given the details in the story, I feel like she should be older. Except she isn't?
Now, onto the crux of the issue. I'm just... not sure what I'm supposed to get out of this story.
I mean, to be blunt, yeah, it kinda would. The core event in the story is... grim. Big Mac dies a pointless death (heroism is appreciable, but he failed), Ruby Pinch dies to bad luck, and Berry Punch kills herself. A statement is made earlier about the deaths not being defining, but the problems are the lives aren't that meaningful either. Those are unhappy and unsatisfying too. Honestly, the story kinda actively pushes me -out- of engaging with it once I realize what's going on.
Life sucks and then you die is not a message I enjoy.
I dunno, I feel like the core problem here is that this feels like a pointlessly grim series of events, rather than an actual story, capped off with "but isn't it neat"? But it undermines itself by cancelling the tragedy with the Luna bit making it all a dream, then it further undermines itself with the meta. And then the meta itself is undermined by not connecting back to the narrative!
Ruby Pinch's perspective is hella confusing because I can't figure out who she is. Her age feels really ambiguous, and I kept being unsure whether she was a young or teen or tween or whatever filly. Having looked her up, I'm actually -more- confused now, because she seems to be a fanon filly, but given the details in the story, I feel like she should be older. Except she isn't?
Now, onto the crux of the issue. I'm just... not sure what I'm supposed to get out of this story.
You can't help but wonder if it would be so bad to end up in Big Mac's horseshoes, or Pinchy's, or her mom's, or anypony else's for that matter.
I mean, to be blunt, yeah, it kinda would. The core event in the story is... grim. Big Mac dies a pointless death (heroism is appreciable, but he failed), Ruby Pinch dies to bad luck, and Berry Punch kills herself. A statement is made earlier about the deaths not being defining, but the problems are the lives aren't that meaningful either. Those are unhappy and unsatisfying too. Honestly, the story kinda actively pushes me -out- of engaging with it once I realize what's going on.
Life sucks and then you die is not a message I enjoy.
I dunno, I feel like the core problem here is that this feels like a pointlessly grim series of events, rather than an actual story, capped off with "but isn't it neat"? But it undermines itself by cancelling the tragedy with the Luna bit making it all a dream, then it further undermines itself with the meta. And then the meta itself is undermined by not connecting back to the narrative!
You are CoffeeMinion.
You were trying to come up with a funny way to review this super-meta story, but then >>AndrewRogue said everything you wanted to, and more succinctly than you probably could have on your own. So you post "me too" and allow your consciousness to continue drifting through the multiverse--
You are the very model of a modern major general.
You awaken into a meta-commentary that has become too dank, and you asphyxiate before you have the chance to wax poetic about subjects vegetable and mineral. Subsequently, your remains are eaten by a grue.
8/10.
Tier: Almost There (for brilliant writing in the middle section)
You were trying to come up with a funny way to review this super-meta story, but then >>AndrewRogue said everything you wanted to, and more succinctly than you probably could have on your own. So you post "me too" and allow your consciousness to continue drifting through the multiverse--
You are the very model of a modern major general.
You awaken into a meta-commentary that has become too dank, and you asphyxiate before you have the chance to wax poetic about subjects vegetable and mineral. Subsequently, your remains are eaten by a grue.
8/10.
Tier: Almost There (for brilliant writing in the middle section)
In the original version of my comment, I ragged quite a bit on the beginning/ending scenes written from the reader's perspective. I'd like to elaborate a bit on what makes these parts feel pretty grating.
In retrospect, these parts are likely meant to be written from the viewpoint of a [fictional] Writeoff reader, not the actual real-world reader. But I didn't know that right away, and - what with the tone of eye-rolling exasperation - it felt like the author was making borderline insulting assumptions about me, my opinions, and/or the rest of the contest entries. Not the best of first impressions.
And then there's the last scene. The in-story reader whines about how much he disliked the story, but also thinks that, maybe, it wasn't that awful... Now, I think I understand the general concept of the ending (something about how fiction puts us in another's shoes? -- not the most original subject, but a potentially beautiful one); however the way you're putting it across is rather grating.
The way you've shown the reader-character's opinions -- both in the first sentence of the story ("yet another boring Writeoff entry") and through the complaints in the final scene -- he feels like he's meant to be a "strawman critic" character, a nitpicking, complaining reader who dislikes your entry for petty reasons. And this is pretty putting off, because it feels like you're pre-emptively mocking anyone who disliked the story.
Again: after a careful re-read, it's likely you didn't meant it to be this way. But it sure came across like this on the first reading. The meta concept isn't that bad, but I suggest revising these parts carefully if you want to publish this story later. For starters, you might make it clearer right away that the in-story reader is a character in his own right, and not the actual reader.
You start reading yet another boring Writeoff entry. You were already half-asleep to begin with, and your mind begins to wander. The text is blurry and your eyelids close most of the way.
In retrospect, these parts are likely meant to be written from the viewpoint of a [fictional] Writeoff reader, not the actual real-world reader. But I didn't know that right away, and - what with the tone of eye-rolling exasperation - it felt like the author was making borderline insulting assumptions about me, my opinions, and/or the rest of the contest entries. Not the best of first impressions.
And then there's the last scene. The in-story reader whines about how much he disliked the story, but also thinks that, maybe, it wasn't that awful... Now, I think I understand the general concept of the ending (something about how fiction puts us in another's shoes? -- not the most original subject, but a potentially beautiful one); however the way you're putting it across is rather grating.
The way you've shown the reader-character's opinions -- both in the first sentence of the story ("yet another boring Writeoff entry") and through the complaints in the final scene -- he feels like he's meant to be a "strawman critic" character, a nitpicking, complaining reader who dislikes your entry for petty reasons. And this is pretty putting off, because it feels like you're pre-emptively mocking anyone who disliked the story.
Again: after a careful re-read, it's likely you didn't meant it to be this way. But it sure came across like this on the first reading. The meta concept isn't that bad, but I suggest revising these parts carefully if you want to publish this story later. For starters, you might make it clearer right away that the in-story reader is a character in his own right, and not the actual reader.
as someone who is TOTALLY into 2nd person experiments and meta-stories.... I think this completely failed.
I want to explain further, but I can't because of the Writeoff anonymity rules.
I want to explain further, but I can't because of the Writeoff anonymity rules.
>>Haze
Which means you wrote this. :trollestia: Either that or you're playing the guessing game in a very clever fashion.
(I haven't read it yet and won't have time until after the cut, so hopefully this one makes it through.)
Which means you wrote this. :trollestia: Either that or you're playing the guessing game in a very clever fashion.
(I haven't read it yet and won't have time until after the cut, so hopefully this one makes it through.)
Welcome Home (Retrospective)
Disclaimer: this story was heavily influenced by the top-rated indie interactive fiction story of all time, Photopia. I think it contains enough originality that I don't need to credit the inspiration, but it's a similar idea with a different metaphysics behind it.
First off, thanks to all who left comments, including Haze for whatever the buck that was intended to mean:
>>Zaid Val'Roa >>Posh >>Scramblers and Shadows >>Feris >>Morning Sun >>AndrewRogue >>CoffeeMinion >>JudgeDeadd >>Haze
Anypony who knows me probably figured this was mine, more for the author-tract metaphysics than the severely depressing storyline.
Why did this suck? For one, I finished writing it when I was extremely tired and didn't have enough time to proofread and edit and reconsider things (especially the last two sections).
Stuff I know I did wrong:
* Beginning and especially end are waaaaaay too intrusive on the reader.
* Mac's role is a bit non-sequitur.
* Luna's section is too author-tracty and contains too much hoof-wavy exposition.
* The ending suggested I was making a meta-joke, which was not the intent.
* The middle of the story is bucking depressing, even for me.
Response to specific comments not already referenced above, that I didn't understand or didn't quite get much help from:
I'm not sure how to do this in a more elegant manner. I want to illustrate the passing of consciousness from one state to the next smoothly, and that requires a short lead-up.
I hope that if I weaken the appearance of metahumor in the beginning and ending, that will be enough that the story won't seem like a bait-and-switch or a joke at the reader's expense. Still, the shifting viewpoints is largely the point of the tale.
Reader preferences aren't very useful critique. I know what your vote was, however, and I thank you for at least having the decency to rank me one step above Froggy!.
The story explicitly states it's Pinchy's 15th birthday, and the fact that the Mane 6 and Starlight Glimmer have all ascended to alicorns implies that this takes place in a future timeline.
I don't agree at all. I think this was a Slice of Life that illustrated the joys and pain and struggles that define life and its importance. I'm not sure why you think the lives of the characters illustrated aren't meaningful. If their lives weren't meaningful, then their deaths would not be as sad.
No, it's intended to be the real world reader. Obviously for a general audience it wouldn't refer to the Writeoff, and I tend to shorten and remove some meta from the beginning and end sections.
Please do. I can only assume you meant that you knew who I was and your "totally failed" critique somehow depends on revealing the author—but I have no idea what this means.
What I already plan to fix:
* Soften the beginning and ending sections (especially the ending), but keep the theme.
* Make Mac's role in the story more relevant to Pinchy and Berry.
* Try to lessen the tractiness of Luna's section without removing the logic behind it.
Advice requested.
I'm waffling on a lot of issues here, and I really would like reader feedback on the following.
* Would the fixes above be sufficient to allow the story to shine?
* Do you think the opener/closer may work if the meta is pared back significantly (esp. in the closer)?
* What would you suggest be changed apart from the planned fixes?
* Should I abandon the meta entirely and make this a surprise happy ending where nopony dies? (This is not what I want to do, but I'm curious how many ponies want that kind of stuff.)
Thanks! :twilightsmile:
Disclaimer: this story was heavily influenced by the top-rated indie interactive fiction story of all time, Photopia. I think it contains enough originality that I don't need to credit the inspiration, but it's a similar idea with a different metaphysics behind it.
First off, thanks to all who left comments, including Haze for whatever the buck that was intended to mean:
>>Zaid Val'Roa >>Posh >>Scramblers and Shadows >>Feris >>Morning Sun >>AndrewRogue >>CoffeeMinion >>JudgeDeadd >>Haze
Anypony who knows me probably figured this was mine, more for the author-tract metaphysics than the severely depressing storyline.
Why did this suck? For one, I finished writing it when I was extremely tired and didn't have enough time to proofread and edit and reconsider things (especially the last two sections).
Stuff I know I did wrong:
* Beginning and especially end are waaaaaay too intrusive on the reader.
* Mac's role is a bit non-sequitur.
* Luna's section is too author-tracty and contains too much hoof-wavy exposition.
* The ending suggested I was making a meta-joke, which was not the intent.
* The middle of the story is bucking depressing, even for me.
Response to specific comments not already referenced above, that I didn't understand or didn't quite get much help from:
But the lead-ups to each section seem bulky.
I'm not sure how to do this in a more elegant manner. I want to illustrate the passing of consciousness from one state to the next smoothly, and that requires a short lead-up.
I think this story is very unfair to the reader.
I hope that if I weaken the appearance of metahumor in the beginning and ending, that will be enough that the story won't seem like a bait-and-switch or a joke at the reader's expense. Still, the shifting viewpoints is largely the point of the tale.
Second person is the writing equivalent of rubbing salt into an open wound for me.
Reader preferences aren't very useful critique. I know what your vote was, however, and I thank you for at least having the decency to rank me one step above Froggy!.
Ruby Pinch's perspective is hella confusing because I can't figure out who she is. Her age feels really ambiguous, and I kept being unsure whether she was a young or teen or tween or whatever filly.
The story explicitly states it's Pinchy's 15th birthday, and the fact that the Mane 6 and Starlight Glimmer have all ascended to alicorns implies that this takes place in a future timeline.
A statement is made earlier about the deaths not being defining, but the problems are the lives aren't that meaningful either.
I don't agree at all. I think this was a Slice of Life that illustrated the joys and pain and struggles that define life and its importance. I'm not sure why you think the lives of the characters illustrated aren't meaningful. If their lives weren't meaningful, then their deaths would not be as sad.
In retrospect, these parts are likely meant to be written from the viewpoint of a [fictional] Writeoff reader, not the actual real-world reader.
No, it's intended to be the real world reader. Obviously for a general audience it wouldn't refer to the Writeoff, and I tend to shorten and remove some meta from the beginning and end sections.
I want to explain further, but I can't because of the Writeoff anonymity rules.
Please do. I can only assume you meant that you knew who I was and your "totally failed" critique somehow depends on revealing the author—but I have no idea what this means.
What I already plan to fix:
* Soften the beginning and ending sections (especially the ending), but keep the theme.
* Make Mac's role in the story more relevant to Pinchy and Berry.
* Try to lessen the tractiness of Luna's section without removing the logic behind it.
Advice requested.
I'm waffling on a lot of issues here, and I really would like reader feedback on the following.
* Would the fixes above be sufficient to allow the story to shine?
* Do you think the opener/closer may work if the meta is pared back significantly (esp. in the closer)?
* What would you suggest be changed apart from the planned fixes?
* Should I abandon the meta entirely and make this a surprise happy ending where nopony dies? (This is not what I want to do, but I'm curious how many ponies want that kind of stuff.)
Thanks! :twilightsmile:
>>Trick_Question
Honestly what gave you away for me were the experimental anti-anxiety drugs Berry Punch was taking.
Honestly what gave you away for me were the experimental anti-anxiety drugs Berry Punch was taking.
>>Syeekoh
I kind of made those up on the fly, to be honest. I don't take anti-anxiety meds because I don't deal with anxiety—just pain and depression.
I kind of made those up on the fly, to be honest. I don't take anti-anxiety meds because I don't deal with anxiety—just pain and depression.
>>Trick_Question
I think the proposed changes sound positive. I think taking away the deaths would be a mistake; they're a downer but they're vivid and strong and not every story needs to be wall-to-wall sunshine. The thing that could still need finesse is to balance the emotional wounds those deaths will inflict on the reader with the twist that it's just Luna spying into possible futures.
I think the proposed changes sound positive. I think taking away the deaths would be a mistake; they're a downer but they're vivid and strong and not every story needs to be wall-to-wall sunshine. The thing that could still need finesse is to balance the emotional wounds those deaths will inflict on the reader with the twist that it's just Luna spying into possible futures.
>>Trick_Question
I agree. We are shown that Ruby Pinch is a promising mage with a lot of talent, Big Mac is altruistic and hard-working, and Berry Punch is making a genuine effort to turn her life around (and the bag of rubies might help with that a lot). This makes their deaths more tragic, because it's clear that these characters potentially had great things ahead of themselves, and were loved by those around them.
Oh. Well that makes these sections a lot worse. I don't appreciate being told what opinion should I be having.
As I mentioned in my review, I liked this story a lot - and only the 'meta' parts felt like a major turn-off. As for the preachiness, I'll discuss this in a moment.
Anyway, my answer is yes, I feel that this story is close to being very good and the listed fixes should fully suffice.
Please don't. I feel the tragedy is very good the way it is, and a happy ending would feel kind of like a copout. As for the meta parts... While I'm not satisfied with them, the story would feel incomplete if you started with the Ruby Pinch section and ended with the Luna section ("OK, so in this particular story the afterlife works this way... uh, so what?"). I'd keep the meta sections, keep the final moral, and just make them less obnoxious.
---
Now then, for come more comments:
This sentence isn't fully clear. I understand the entire second half refers to the other minds: Luna picks them up when these minds are "in states of altered consciousness... etc." But on the first read, it looks like it refers to Luna instead (especially since in the scene she's just woken up from a sleep, so it's natural to associate the "altered consciousness" with her), and then the final part of the sentence is confusing because it seems to refer to Luna's death?... My suggestion is, rewrite this sentence to make it clear whose "consciousness" you're referring to.
Not 100% sure I understand what you mean by "embrace the past" here. Does it refer to Luna shaking off the foreign memories, and recollecting her own?
And now, here's what I feel makes the story feel "tracty":
This is creepy, you see.
Losing your own independent identity, opinions, feelings, emotions, and fully becoming someone else -- this is downright scary to me. And it doesn't matter that my new "host" is a princess living in luxury, because I want to be me, thank you very much.
Except... the princess is trying to convince me that this is totally awesome. Since we don't get hints that Luna is meant to be anything other than a sympathetic, wise, good-hearted character, the conclusion is that the author wants me to accept her reasoning... something I vehemently disagree with.
This is what makes the story feel a little preachy.
Anyway, the story doesn't make it fully clear what's the nature of having one's mind merge with another.
Is it everypony's fate after death? You die, and your soul floats around until you wake up being someone else?
Or does the soul head to some sort of afterlife, and the part that merges with others is just some barely-conscious "fraction" that has "split off" from it (as mentioned near the end)? This would make the scenario more palatable, because the "me" still survives I guess.
I think this was a Slice of Life that illustrated the joys and pain and struggles that define life and its importance. I'm not sure why you think the lives of the characters illustrated aren't meaningful. If their lives weren't meaningful, then their deaths would not be as sad.
I agree. We are shown that Ruby Pinch is a promising mage with a lot of talent, Big Mac is altruistic and hard-working, and Berry Punch is making a genuine effort to turn her life around (and the bag of rubies might help with that a lot). This makes their deaths more tragic, because it's clear that these characters potentially had great things ahead of themselves, and were loved by those around them.
No, it's intended to be the real world reader.
Oh. Well that makes these sections a lot worse. I don't appreciate being told what opinion should I be having.
Would the fixes above be sufficient to allow the story to shine?
As I mentioned in my review, I liked this story a lot - and only the 'meta' parts felt like a major turn-off. As for the preachiness, I'll discuss this in a moment.
Anyway, my answer is yes, I feel that this story is close to being very good and the listed fixes should fully suffice.
Should I abandon the meta entirely and make this a surprise happy ending where nopony dies?
Please don't. I feel the tragedy is very good the way it is, and a happy ending would feel kind of like a copout. As for the meta parts... While I'm not satisfied with them, the story would feel incomplete if you started with the Ruby Pinch section and ended with the Luna section ("OK, so in this particular story the afterlife works this way... uh, so what?"). I'd keep the meta sections, keep the final moral, and just make them less obnoxious.
---
Now then, for come more comments:
You can feel the minds which merge with your own when you pick them up in states of altered consciousness or once consciousness can no longer be supported.
This sentence isn't fully clear. I understand the entire second half refers to the other minds: Luna picks them up when these minds are "in states of altered consciousness... etc." But on the first read, it looks like it refers to Luna instead (especially since in the scene she's just woken up from a sleep, so it's natural to associate the "altered consciousness" with her), and then the final part of the sentence is confusing because it seems to refer to Luna's death?... My suggestion is, rewrite this sentence to make it clear whose "consciousness" you're referring to.
Welcome home, you think to yourself, and you embrace the past.
Not 100% sure I understand what you mean by "embrace the past" here. Does it refer to Luna shaking off the foreign memories, and recollecting her own?
And now, here's what I feel makes the story feel "tracty":
You feel all the ponies within you, those who have become one another and then become you, and you know they are unlikely to leave soon. You know those three ponies must be happy to be a princess, because you are happy to be a princess, and they are you.
This is creepy, you see.
Losing your own independent identity, opinions, feelings, emotions, and fully becoming someone else -- this is downright scary to me. And it doesn't matter that my new "host" is a princess living in luxury, because I want to be me, thank you very much.
Except... the princess is trying to convince me that this is totally awesome. Since we don't get hints that Luna is meant to be anything other than a sympathetic, wise, good-hearted character, the conclusion is that the author wants me to accept her reasoning... something I vehemently disagree with.
This is what makes the story feel a little preachy.
Anyway, the story doesn't make it fully clear what's the nature of having one's mind merge with another.
Is it everypony's fate after death? You die, and your soul floats around until you wake up being someone else?
Or does the soul head to some sort of afterlife, and the part that merges with others is just some barely-conscious "fraction" that has "split off" from it (as mentioned near the end)? This would make the scenario more palatable, because the "me" still survives I guess.
>>Trick_Question
No. The only way this story will shine is if you burnish it with a rag for twelve hours every morning until it's bright enough to blind a man from fifty yards out.
I'm not sure why you're talking about TNT's hit crime detective series, The Closer, staring Kira Sedgewick, but turning this into a crossover with that series would be a serious tonal misstep. And it would raise all kinds of questions, few of them good.
1. Big McIntosh should be louder, angrier, and have access to a time machine.
2. Whenever Big McIntosh is not in a scene, everypony should ask "where's Big McIntosh?
3. End with a pie fight.
Yes, but in the most literal sense possible. Ie, the concept of death is forever abolished. Equestria's population spirals out of control. Everypony starves, but because no one can die, they don't starve to death. It's frustrating.
* Would the fixes above be sufficient to allow the story to shine?
No. The only way this story will shine is if you burnish it with a rag for twelve hours every morning until it's bright enough to blind a man from fifty yards out.
* Do you think the opener/closer may work if the meta is pared back significantly (esp. in the closer)?
I'm not sure why you're talking about TNT's hit crime detective series, The Closer, staring Kira Sedgewick, but turning this into a crossover with that series would be a serious tonal misstep. And it would raise all kinds of questions, few of them good.
* What would you suggest be changed apart from the planned fixes?
1. Big McIntosh should be louder, angrier, and have access to a time machine.
2. Whenever Big McIntosh is not in a scene, everypony should ask "where's Big McIntosh?
3. End with a pie fight.
* Should I abandon the meta entirely and make this a surprise happy ending where nopony dies? (This is not what I want to do, but I'm curious how many ponies want that kind of stuff.)
Yes, but in the most literal sense possible. Ie, the concept of death is forever abolished. Equestria's population spirals out of control. Everypony starves, but because no one can die, they don't starve to death. It's frustrating.
>>Posh
I can't uphoof this, but if it helps, I was just in an alternate reality where I did.
I can't uphoof this, but if it helps, I was just in an alternate reality where I did.
>>CoffeeMinion
Just to be specific: it isn't intended to be Luna spying into possible futures, but alternate futures that are very much real where the consciousnesses happen to merge with the more canonical Luna.
Just to be specific: it isn't intended to be Luna spying into possible futures, but alternate futures that are very much real where the consciousnesses happen to merge with the more canonical Luna.