Fallout: Equestria A tale of Four Friends, magic, and transdimensionalism

by CloudTwister

Rating: mature
Tags: Human, Dark, Alternate Universe
Length: 435

Four friends, Three are bronies and the other despises the show, all however are beyond psychotic. When they are dropped into the Equestrian wastes how will they survive? Or the wastes survive them for that matter.

You know how most of us bronies at least want a taste of Equestria? Yeah I do too.
I wasn't ready for the sheer blind chance that three of my friends would come with me, least of all the devout non-brony. And, on par with my luck, Its the Equestria filled with things that want to gut me.
Yeah. I want to go back to my old life please.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-01-05 08:04:15 UTC

Prologue: Same old Song and Dance

War, war never changes, from the day man could make a stick sharp we have been killing each other and anything that had what we wanted. But even as we killed one another without remorse, we had allied with others and discovered the other immutable force of nature. That together, the weak were stronger than any one man could ever hope to be. And from this evolved friendship.

These things shaped our world and continue to do so to this day.

Today was about as boring as any other. I had finished work down at the hardware store and biked back home to do more work before falling asleep exhausted and without eating any dinner. It wasn’t glamorous but it paid the bills and kept me from spiraling the drain of depressing thoughts as to when any publisher would contact me back. It was coming up to the end of the month and deep down I knew that my story wasn’t going to match up to the next fucking twilight rip-off or some shit that I want to burn for warmth if it wasn’t so ungodly expensive.

I had been keeping in contact with three of my close friends. Zach was the whitest black guy I knew and was working in a garage on the next island over. Mars was focusing on his music which, with the lack of fans on our shitty backwards rock, was mostly to keep from getting rusty. Glenn had moved over finally and it was difficult to find a job on the island anywhere other than coffee plantations, hotels, or some other seasonal job that was built for people with no concept of fair pay. It was safe to say we were struggling to make things work out, but that’s all part of what it is to be human or something romanticized about the daily suffering grind that ruined most of your creativity by shoeboxing you until you complied with its rules and regulations.

Tonight was extremely tiring since I felt about ten times worse than when I had been in any one of my three car accidents. I practically dragged myself into my bed and rolled over until I was facing the wall in something half resembling the fetal position and a kind of relaxed crunch. It didn’t really matter to me because as soon as I fell asleep I would reposition to be lying on my stomach. The bedding was unusually cool and I felt so comfortable when I started drifting off, I didn’t want to wake up for a while.