Author's Note and BIG THANK YOUS
(Sorry this took as long as it did. The mod wouldn't let me past.)
AUTHOR’S NOTE
So here we are.
It’s been a while since I’ve written a good fic.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve never written a good fic. But I’ve made lots of friends on this site and read some beyond great material, and even introduced many of my IRL friends to writing in general. FiMFiction has done a lot for me and really helped my true transmutation into full brony-ism. I gave up on FiMFiction long ago and left you with none of the stories I promised (even though there’s only two or three of you probably actually reading this, plus my girlfriend’s cousin who I asked to) and probably won’t fulfill said promises, but, you know, whatever. Instead, for my one year anniversary (even though quite a few months I wasn’t even online) I’m coming back and writing a crossover fic about Felix Kjellberg (PewDiePie), Toby Turner (Tobuscus) (even though I’m growing away from him, due to a good 95% of his fanbase), and Austin Hargrave (PeanutButterGamer ). I already started writing, and I’m starting to think this would have been better with Markiplier instead of Tobuscus.
In the meantime, this is happening.
This is just a one-shot mini-thingy to get me restarted. Why, you may ask? Well, I’ve only ever written two decent fics, Ponies on Red Dwarf, and another my least favorite mod Alextrassa (I know you’re reading this, asshole!) wouldn’t let past, named Flywest, which I’m going to redo. Also, a pony standup comedy one I never started, but the rough drafts looked great! I’m not doing that one, sorry!
Let’s just say my sense of humor has changed, and I’m probably going to have to try and permanently forget The Ponyville Connundrum exists. And I am GOING to delete WYWYDWS, no questions asked! I was not meant to write Scootaloo! Leave that to Darcy’s cousin that I can’t remember his FiMFiction username! I think it’s Tails-115.
Also, RANs are gone. For those first-time readers (which I doubt there’ll be any) RAN stands for Random Author’s note. Those would often pop up as me breaking the fourth wall and offering my (what I at the time thought was witty) forced commentary. (RAN: As so!) Horrible mistake, but I thought it was my shtick. (RANL: They’d pop up as often as this, and sometimes not even have relevance!) It technically was, and it was a horrible shtick. (RAN: Yes, quite horrible) TPC2 wouldn’t be half the size it is without them. (RAN: This is getting annoying, isn’t it?) I’m regretting writing them, and I’m probably going to delete the TPC series. (RAN: And these are why.) Also, it was poorly written. Somehow no one hated it, or else they kept it to themselves or told me white lies. That happens a lot. (RAN: For instance, quite a couple of people tell me I’m a good artist. Some are persistent on making me believe that/good at lying/both and it gets annoying. Both in the case of Darcy’s cousin.) What RAN said. Anyway… (RAN: Fun fact, did you know that--) SHUT UP, RAN! Anyway, I can only trust one person to be honest with me: Izzy Christiansen. Thanks for that.
I appreciate you reading this far.
Anyone still willing to read my fic at this point is probably just here to laugh at it. Or else named Daniel or Timothy.
Have a nice time!
SOME PRE-STORY THANKS
Camo Flash (who has asked me not to use his true name) – For always being there in my early fic writing days, putting up with my bullshit, helping developing my headcanon, and helping me write my fics from square 3. No one was there for me at squares 1 or 2, but that’s not his fault.
Alextrassa, Poultron, and Knighty – For developing the site and then making me hate it so much that I keep coming back!
Izzy Christiansen – For being the only one honest enough to tell me exactly what’s wrong with everything I do. And for being the first person to admit I’m the ugliest person you’ve met. I appreciate it, I was seriously getting annoyed no one would admit it.
Darcy Johnson – For being nice enough to say yes, and then continue to bare my insanity after experiencing it firsthand. I really needed that one!
Timothy I-never-caught-his-last-name – For inviting me to co-host that panel on fanfictions at Midwest Brony Fest, relighting my creative (if you can really call it that) flame, and trying to make me tell myself I’m good for something. That is very kind of you. I also like you as a person, in a completely plutonic way.
Tyreese Tyler – For being the best editor to walk the face of the Earth. Too bad he left
Ty Lomax – For making me art. I may not be good at it, but I sure as hell love it.
*insert clichéd special thankses here* - *insert sappy message somewhere along the lines of “thanks mom!”*
And finally…
RawrCharlieRawr (RCR) – For threatening to slap me if I didn’t keep doing what I love, although I’m no good at it now, and to keep practicing it, so that I might can do something well one day. (Highly doubtful.)
ENJOYS!
Slip
by wtfboom88
Me?
I felt a strange sensation rush over me. There was no one else around, nopony I could see anyway. It was dark. Not dark as in I could see, but barely, dark as in there were no lights at all. I felt something on top of me, such as leaves or mud. I raised a hoof to see what exactly had happened. I couldn't move.
I heard voices. I... couldn't make out what they were saying. But they were familiar voices. Friends, family, something along those lines.
That was when the realization struck me. I didn't know who I was, nor where I was. Off the top of my head, I remembered that I could fly. Barely, but I could. I attempted to do as such, but to no avail. As I pointed out earlier, and may have forgotten at the time, I couldn't move. I felt no breath coming out of my lungs. For some strange reason, I remember breathing so lightly I couldn't really feel it. I began to hear music. An eerie, almost sad melody. It chilled me to the bone. It felt as if on a loop, constantly abrading me with a simple, skipping, sickly sweet sound. I can't pinpoint exactly, but it was part of a rhythm I'd heard before. Something memorable. Something along the lines of a lullaby.
I felt a new sense of being threatened. A sense of anger, directed straight at me. But it didn't bother me, somehow. Like I deserved it.
The music was getting louder… louder… more abrasive.
"... a... ick... wa...!" a certain voice called.
I remember it now, not a name or a face, but more experiences. She was a nice pony, annoying at times. I’m not sure how exactly, but I remember there was always some tension between the two of us. There was always somepony there to break us out of a fight before it happened…
"...o! ...e ...an... b... ...ea...! ...e... an!" another howled.
That one! Yes. That voice, so familiar. I remember she had some sort of peaceful twinge to her voice, like her entire family. I’m not so sure now, but I remember thinking about hard work and earning bits. I also remember her sister being extremely strict.
"S...!" a third cried.
The fourth one, though possessing a memorable voice, I don’t recall anything about her. As if I’d only met her once or twice. It’s strange realizing that, you know? Realizing you don’t know a voice you recognize.
"...ot m... o... ...y ...an...!" a fourth, older voice screamed. "Y... ...ui...er! D... ...ui... o... m...!"
That fourth one. I felt a sick sense of love towards it. One I knew shouldn't be. A friend, maybe? I didn't remember. Nor do I now. But I do know that I shouldn’t have had certain feelings that I did.
Hey, stop snickering!
I found myself able to see again only briefly. I caught glimpse of a dark sky, trees, and the moon. That moon. The moon, I remember thinking, is so comforting. I should let myself go, see the moon... The music began to subside. I felt… almost, at peace.
NO! I snapped myself back. I didn't know what was happening. I felt like... dying. Giving in. I knew now that was my purpose in being here. To die. But I couldn’t! I was only beginning to become aware of who I was. I was so young, I almost felt as if I was too young to be dying. At least I seemed to be going peacefully, and I’m not sure why I was so fast to accept it. But I was almost positive it was because I went out with a bang. I did what I needed to, and now I was leaving.
There was still that sick sense of leaving something. You know the feeling. Like when you leave the house and forget your wallet. When you do, you can feel it in your gut that you left something. You get that burning sensation, sort of, combined with the butterflies. For some reason, I got that feeling. Like I needed to go back and get something. I think I know, but I can’t say for sure. I can’t put my hoof, you know?
You know, looking back, death was a strange thing. I feel like, if I hadn’t experienced it, I wouldn’t have imagined it like that. I would have thought, prior to death, it would be painful, slow. No, even as I was dying in a position that obviously should have been painfully uncomfortable. But, somehow, I felt nothing.
I began to slip. I was able to catch one or two sentences before going under. It was the fourth, oldest voice. Female in nature, high pitch but raspy. It said:
"I told you that you weren't ready to fly, Scootaloo, why wouldn't you listen?!"
There was something so enjoyable about her saying that. I had done something I wasn’t supposed to. Also, I’ve got a name: Scootaloo.
The other thing she said?
“Not my number one fan! Why now?!”
Now, that to this day makes me cringe. I almost feel like I hurt this mare’s feelings. But I still don’t care, for the most sense. I still feel like I left her behind for a good reason. Again, I went out with a bang, doing something that I wasn’t supposed to do. That, to this day, makes me feel good. Fighting the power, you’ve known me long enough, that’s something I love to do.
Afterwards, I was in a dark room. This room was the kind of dark where, in fact, I could see, but just barely. What I saw was a mirror and a door. The mirror held no reflection, not even my own. I went up to it, pushed it open, and I ended up here. In this city. One just like the one I vaguely remember. And, the strangest thing is, I hadn’t known what happened or how until 2 years later. Times change, you know?
For some reason, I want to meet that mare again one day. I just feel like I need to say goodbye to her one last time.
I know it won’t happen.
So how'd you end up dying, then? How’d you get here?
...
You don't remember?
Well, how’d you find out? Did you read it in a story? That sometimes happens.
Did you read that you were dead?
And this is all purgatory?
Yeah, it was hard for me to grasp, too. At first. You get used to it.