Falling Off The Edge of the World
Some time ago, humans who had been transformed into ponies began falling out of their own respective universes and into Equestria. Eventually the problem was fixed, but Equestria was left with hundreds of confused alien refugees who were unable to return home, and unused to life in the body of a pony. Official state programs were established to assimilate these once-humans into equestrian culture. In Ponyville this program is overseen by Lyra Heartstrings, a mint-coated unicorn therapist. This is the story of one of her patients...
Prime Material Plane of Equestria
Group Therapy Session, Lyra Heartstring’s Center for Displaced Humans, Present Day
“... and I explained it to Big Macintosh, and it was all one big misunderstanding, and the cow’s not gonna file sexual harassment charges, hell, I didn’t even get fired.”
The light brown earth pony took in the looks of amusement, shock, and disgust from the assembled formerly human ponies in the room and gave an annoyed sigh. Iam Noone did not do group therapy well. That’s the reason he never did well in rehab. Well, that and his own deep personal disinterest in being rehabilitated.
“Iam Noone, how could you?” Not-a-Child, the age displaced pony about whom Iam could never remember a single detail from sheer personal dislike, “Am I the only one asking why he’s not in jail yet.”
“They told me to milk the cows,” Iam snapped with unrestrained annoyance, “It’s how I’m making bits. We can’t all be wards of the state and spend however many years you feel like passing elementary school again getting adjusted. I’m not that good with my hooves. So I improvised. Dirt ponies and wing ponies use their mouths for things. It was a natural assumption, goddamit!”
Not-a-Child hopped from her seat and stomped an angry hoof, “There’s no way you can just write that off as ‘I used to be human’! You… you make our entire species look like degenerate drug addicts! He’s growing marijuana and psychedelic mushrooms and god knows what else. Please tell me nopony is buying that whole ‘smoke alchemy’ story. Is everypony here just gonna sit back and wait until he gets his cutie mark for reinventing methamphetamines? Because I’m pretty sure that’s where this is going!”
The mint-coated unicorn named Lyra Heartstrings interrupted, “We do not pass judgements in group sessions!”
“Seriously,” said the unicorn whose name Iam could never remember, “calm down. Everybody knows Iam isn’t right in the head.”
Not-a-Child’s nostrils flared in indignation, “And everypony knows he’s not above using that to get out of trouble! He belongs in jail, or in an asylum.”
Iam jumped to his hooves, “Go fuck yourself, you self righteous bag of cunts!”
Lyra turned her full ire on Iam, “Iam Noone! How DARE you use that kind of language towards a filly. Even knowing her true human age, that was… I need to talk to you outside, Mr. Noone.”
Iam Noone felt two very familiar feelings rush through him. The first was deep sense of personal embarrassment. The second was a curious falling sideways sensation. Every one in the room was clearly and openly staring at him/
“Yeah, this is a thing that happens sometimes,” was all he got out before he fell sideways into a hole in thin air.”
Lyra’s troubled voice was the first to break the silence, “I honestly thought he was making that part up.”
Artificial Demi-Plane
The Office of the Text, timeless
Iam stood in a blank field of inky blackness.
“Hey Fred, it happened again,” Iam gave a friendly wave.
‘Please leave me alone. I got you out of the asylum. I gave you the drugs. You got what you wanted. I just want to wash my hands of this whole thing. Just go away.’
“Come on, Fred,” Iam was all smiles, “Don’t be like that.”
‘Why do you keep calling me that? My name is not Fred! I am a formless and nameless force that exists between the ether of the cosmic spheres. I sculpt the destinies of men and ponies and gods alike. DO NOT CALL ME FRED.’
“Dammit Fred,” Iam snapped in annoyance, “Stop being such a dick. It’s not like I can controll falling out of reality. Do you really think that of all the places I could land I just happen to pick here two out of three times because I like hanging out with you so much?”
‘You need control to leave me alone? That seems… surprisingly reasonable. Fine, I’ll help you get your cutie-mark. You can then get your special talent, and then you can leave me alone. Agreed?’
“If that’s how you feel, Fred,” Iam shrugged apologetically, “I thought we were friends.”
‘We are not. And can you please stop calling me Fred?’
“So what? I gotta have some kind of epiphany and realize what I’m really good at?” Iam None braced himself, though he didn’t know what exactly he was bracing for.
‘In your case it’s more like what you are. You need to remember how you got here. How you really got here, not that “overdose” nonsense you tell the ponies’
And then it happened.
*Prime Material Plane of Atabnae*
*Prozate Center for Mental Wellness, Much, Much Earlier*
“It pains me to do this, and I would rather have your consent, but your family has approved the procedure,” the doctor spoke calmly, “You really left us no choice. You’ve refused medication, generously offered at no cost from Prozate, LCC, whom you have chosen to maliciously slander with every word from that filthy mouth of yours.”
The restrained patient’s eyes darted about as orderlies strapped the remote surgery robot into place over his face. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t even move. He wanted to beg, to scream for help, but the restraint in place to keep him from biting or swallowing his own tongue prevented more than a muffled whimper.
“Now there’s no need to fret,” The doctor smiled with fake kindness, “It’s not like the lobotomies of the old days. We’re just going to… remove some undesirable traits. There will be some loss of intelligence, but you will be able to live a normal, drug free life. You will no longer feel the need to avoid your medication. You will longer be burdened by your paranoid delusions that Prozate, LCC, is anything but a beacon of corporate responsibility. In short you will no longer be a burden on society and the people around you. That’s why we’re doing this, just so you know. It’s not for you, it’s for them,” the doctor made a sweeping motion with his hand, “I’ve come to realize that you are not a patient to be treated, you are a plague to be cured. And that’s precisely what we’re doing now. Soon it will be like the person you are now will have never existed. He is no one…”
The tiny mechanical arms moved into place as the patient struggled impotently against the restraints that held him fast. There was a bright flash as the laser scalpel activated. And it was over. And Iam Noone, a pony once again, writhed in a fetal position in an endless field of darkness sobbing bitterly.
Artificial Demi-Plane
The Office of the Text, timeless
“They gave those butchers permission to cut up my brain, Fred,” Iam sobbed, “And they didn’t even come to visit me once. Not even to tell me what they had done. I was already dead to them. I...I was no one.”
‘And I took pity on you. You asked to go somewhere where no one knew you. I sent you to Equestria. I asked what you wanted to bring with you, and you said you wanted two book-bags full of drugs and and your favorite t-shirt. I complied because I thought it would be entertaining. I was mistaken. That doctor was right, Iam Noone. You are a plague.’
The earth pony shook his cyan-maned head ignoring the writing on the wall, “That’s why it always happens isn’t it? Why I keep falling in and out of the universe? Because I really am no one.”
There was a small flash of light and a sharp sting, like getting a large tattoo done all at once.
‘There, now get out and don’t ever tell anyone, human or pony. that I had anything to do with any of this.’
“Later, Fred,” and Iam fell easily back into the world.
Prime Material Plane of Equestria
Lyra Heartstring’s Center for Displaced Humans, Somewhat Later
Iam lay on the floor, twitching and muttering to himself. A thin line of drool gathering in a small puddle on the floor. The former humans from the support group were gathered around him looking worridly to Lyra for guidance. Their voices not quite reaching Iam in his topor.
"Is he allright?"
"Should somepony call a doctor?"
"He's probably just passed from whatever he's high on."
"How do even get a cutie mark for passing out in group therapy?"
It has been said before, and will be said again. Iam Noone was never good at group therapy.
The Pitfalls of Quicksand
Okay, not the second chapter I initially intended to write, but David Silver went and changed the universe. And since I'm telling this story in his universe (with permision he probably wishes he could take back 
) it means I have to at least try to roll with it. Is cool. This takes place imediately after this, just after Lyra and Bon Bon try and sneak off, but before they're confronted by Lyra's other patients.
Iam Noone stalked angrily through the woods. Lyra had closed up the rehab center for former-humans and just skipped town. There was a note on the door when he’d shown up for his weekly session. He’d blown it. It was even worse than that time he’d lost that bet with the big gay mexican drug-lord. And that had been a pretty low point in his life. How many second, third, fourth chances was he going to waste like this? Reborn into a world of pastel talking horses were practically nothing was illegal (at least that was the only explanation he could come up with for why he was still a free man, or horse, or pony… whatever), and he was still nothing more than a hopeless embarrassment. Hell his THERAPIST just skipped town on him. And it was actually her JOB to be his friend. Because oddly enough, it seemed that was how that worked here.
Part of him thought he should be happy. No more group therapy. No more nosey unicorn trying to coax him into talking about stupid things like where he came from, or how he felt about his situation, or asking how he was adjusting to being a midget horse. No more stupid minty horse lady asking him stupid questions about his stupid life. His life could finally get back to normal. He could finally get back to not existing in the eyes of the world around him. Finally, the only creature that had ever shown any interest in his existence had up and skipped town.
Iam briefly noticed that his hooves were wet, and looked up to notice he was no longer walking through a wood, but was deep in a swampy bog. This would have alarmed any creature with any sense of self preservation. Iam merely looked back down and went back to his own miserable thoughts.
”She was just another head shrink at the end of the day,” he sulked bitterly to himself, “You can pretend she was your ‘friend’ but you know damn well that in the end you weren’t even in the friend zone. You were a patient.”
Iam let out a short bitter laugh, “So that’s it? Iam Noone tries to have one friend. Just ONE LOUSY FRIEND,” he screamed at the surrounding swamp, “I’m not even trying for a girlfriend, oh gods-forbid that! Just thought maybe I could actually be friends with my lesbian pony therapist. This day could not get any worse.”
Suddenly it occurred to Iam that he wasn’t going anywhere. Also, the trees were getting taller. And his horse-knees were wet for some reason he knew should be obvious.
“And of COURSE it’s quicksand,” Iam muttered darkly, “Why the fuck wouldn’t it be quicksand. Well I’m pretty well fucked. HEY, ANYBODY WANNA HELP AND/OR KILL AND EAT ME?”
He waited a moment as he looked around for anything he might could grab with his mouth to pull himself free. Nothing, of course. By now he was down to his shoulders. He knew there was no sense in struggling, unless he just wanted to drown tired. And so Iam Noone prepared his silent death prayer And from his mind poured forth the most trollishly obscene horse-blasphemy he could conceive as his welcoming cry to the gods.
If you really want to read Iam Noones final plea to the gods of Equestria you have nopony but yourself to blame. Downvote yourself or god over this, cause it's not my fault. I warned you.
Thirteen red and black alicorns danced through the rainbow factory as the author’s OC shipped with Twilight Sparkle. Prince BlueBlood fucked Rarity straight in her horsey plot hole while rainbow cupcakes flew across the moon. Narrative conventions were cast to hell as Applejack cunt-punted Fluttershy straight into the Crystal Empire.
Discord shipped shamelessly with Spike the dragon, reaming his little dragon ass for all it was worth, while singing in the voice of the ghost of Robin Williams. The author soon lost all sense of decorum and the world dissolved into one big giant horse-pussy as the downvotes fell like rain. Woona slid down the pink slippery slide into the hell of foal-shipped pedophilia.
Pinky Pie tried to slit her own throat to escape this literary abortion, but found her knife had transformed into a giant dildo, and she was forced to simply bash herself in the face repeatedly with the rubber dick in the hopes that she might eventually lose consciousness.
Meanwhile, as Scootaloo squirmed helplessly on the rotisserie rack, the diamond dogs clubbed Sweetie Belle like a baby seal and dragged her into the ground for raping and dismemberment that would never be described adequately for the reader’s perverted pleasure. Apple Bloom just shook her head sadly, knowing that sooner or later she too would be dragged into this poorly written madness.
And these were the final living thoughts of Iam Noone. And sometimes the gods are actually listening….
Iam awoke on a dark and misty plane that seemed to stretch forever in all directions. Silent wails of remorse assaulted his mind as silence assaulted his ears.
“Great, the ethereal plane. Guess I’m dead again,” Iam let out a sigh of frustration, “Not one of my better runs at it, gotta say. HEY FRED?!?! Little help bro?”
“You’re friend the Text is not coming to save you this time,” Iam jumped and spun around to find himself being addressed by an angry-looking white rabbit carrying a ridiculously large scythe, “He’s moved on to more entertaining subjects. You were… a disappointment. At Best.”
“Yeah, that’s what your mom said,” Iam laughed at his joke, then looked thoughtful, “Mine too, actually. So, are you the rabbit of death? Thought you’d be blacker.”
“You can address me as the Angel Bunny of Death,” the rabbit said in the most dignified and somber tone imaginable. Somehow Iam managed to contain his amusement to a stifled snicker, but even this brought the fel reaper’s ire in his general direction, “You are very calm for a being about to face the judgement of the gods he mocked with his dying thoughts. I wonder, why not scream your blasphemies with your dying breath for the world to hear?”
“The whore who screams the loudest, means it the least,” Iam said after a moment of thought.
“And in your silent scream you meant every word,” Death nodded his bunny head, “I see. Well, no matter, we have business to attend at the divine courts.”
“Okay,” Iam shrugged and fell behind the reaper, “You know, this is the first time I’ve ever faced divine judgement. Usually the powers that be just reincarnate me in different prime material plane while nobody's looking.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me at all,” Angel Death Bunny replied dryly, “We’ve had a real problem with that lately.”
“Yeah, my therapist, Lyra was in charge of getting us all integrated into being horses,” Iam frowned, “At least she used to. She up and left town the day of my last session. Not that I can blame her....”
Iam grew silent, thinking of his former friend. The truth was, he thoroughly blamed himself for Lyra’s departure. He tried his best to hide his patient-crush, but he knew she could tell, and he knew it made her at least a little uncomfortable. And he had lied to her at every turn. About the drugs. About his plans. About how he had come to her world.
The reaper seemed aware of his thoughts, “Your friend Lyra was going into hiding from a dangerous monster that had escaped from Tartarus and pursued her lover. Like most things in the world, it had nothing to do with you.”
“Oh,” Iam replied quietly.
“Had you not been so quick to indulge your own self pity, you could have joined your fellow refugees in helping to defend her from that same creature. It was your own selfishness that led you to this end, Iam Noone.”
“There’s no need to be a dick about it,” Iam grumbled, “Still, I’m glad to hear she’s alright. She’s gonna be getting gay married soon, ya know?”
“We are here,” the Angel Bunny of Death stopped abruptly, “The Plane of Concordant Opposition, Neutral meeting place of the Gods!”
Iam stood before a massive tower extending upwards beyond mortal sight into the depth of infinity. With a slash of the Death Bunnies scythe, reality was cleaved cleanly and they were elsewhere.
