MOTHERBUCKER!!!

MOTHERBUCKER!!! -or- The Curse of Marty Stu

By: The Fanfic Stealer

Disclaimer: I do not own MLP… or whatever else I decide to throw in here.

A/N: Another idea that just wouldn’t leave me the heck alone. This one spawned from reading several HiE fics, as well as a parody or two… that, and, as a MLP fanfiction writer, I felt it was my duty to make at least one attempt at a self-insert… well, a semi-self-insert, at any rate-- the soft and squishy human won’t actually be me, but he’ll share basic similarities. Much like “Proto-Element of Harmony,” expect long updates with this one, as it isn’t my main focus.

-Break-

Prologue: Not So Much “RIP,” Bur Rather "HiE"

To the best of his knowledge, he was neither a whiny emo brat, nor some kind of tragic figure who’d tragically lost all of his loved ones in some kind of tragically tragic tragedy, nor a teenager with a completely illogical-yet-convenient set of skills and/or an equally illogical-yet-convenient repertory of knowledge.

Also to the best of his knowledge, he had neither been unwillingly sucked into nor willingly (and stupidly) approached a tear in space-time, been killed in some kind of freak accident, or died heroically saving a little girl, or something.

In truth, he’d been an old man who had lived a full life, and he’d gone to bed that night expecting one of two things: either a) he would wake up the next morning and go about his day, or b) he wouldn’t wake up, passing away into the next life due to nothing more than old age and a failing body. He was at that point in life where he no longer cared which happened, to be honest-- the former let him spend some more time with his cute little nieces and nephews (he didn't care if they were grown up, they would always be cute and little to him!) and their equally cute little children, while he already had everything squared away in case of the latter: his list of “Everything I Want To Do Before I Die” completed, his will written, his worldly belongings distributed to his nieces and nephews and their families (his one regret: he never married, so no children or grandchildren to call his own), a sizable amount of money donated to charity, and a system set up with his neighbors to make sure his body was found before it started smelling too badly.

Basically, out of all the people that could wake up and inexplicably find themselves in a magical land of fantasies come true, he was one of-- if not THE-- most unlikely candidates available.

…So why did he wake up this morning lying in the middle of a field, with a rather colorful town in the distance? A town that, even from this distance, looked to be populated with familiar pastel-colored ponies, the likes of which he’d only seen in that cartoon his grandnieces, some of his nephews (though they would never admit it), and he, himself (he was old, and as such, could afford to lose some dignity), liked to watch?

And, more pressing: WHY THE FUCK WAS HE A PONY?!? And not just any pony, but a BABY PONY?!? He was an old man, goddamnit! One who was quite satisfied with how his life had turned out, and had no desire to relive it, especially as a completely different species! WHY WAS THIS HAPPENING TO HIM?!?

Well, at least he was an average pony... right? Probably-- hopefully-- just a regular Earth Pony colt that couldn't make Big Mac feel emasculated just by existing, and probably not an unicorn that rivaled Twilight or-- God forbid-- Celestia in power and/or skill, or a pegasus that could outfly Rainbow Dash or the Wonderbolts. And he was most definitely not an alicorn that could do all of those things, and then some, despite being just a colt... right? Right. He was probably just a regular Earth Pony colt, with no especially outstanding features.

His thoughts were interrupted when a sudden breeze caused some unnatural ruffling across his back. Okay, so either he was wearing something across his back, or those were wings, which would make him a pegasus colt. He could work with that. Sure, he could fly and manipulate the weather, but that was normal around here, so that was fine. Yep, he could definitely work wi-- why did his head feel weird? It was heavier than he was used to, almost like... he had a growth on his forehead? A horn, perhaps? Then that would make him a unicorn, wouldn't it? Which would make the thing on his back just a blanket or something, because, once again, there was no way in hell he was an alicorn. Nope. No way in. Fucking. Hell.

But just to make sure he wasn't an Earth Pony with grosteque mutations, or a pegasus with an unfortunate case of brain cancer (as much as he didn't want to go through life again, and as a pony no less, he wasn't too inclined to die in incredible, tumor-induced agony, thank you very much), he quickly trotted (...how the hell did he already know how to do that? Probably just a side-effect of whatever had brought him to Equestria, and not some completely unexplainable instinctual knowledge unique only to him... hopefully) over to a conveniently nearby brook and checked his reflection, ignoring his outlandish color scheme (his mane and tail were fiery red and his hooves were a light brown. At least his coat was a shade of dark yellow that he had to admit was rather nice and, more importantly, looked fairly ordinary) in favor of studying his horn (royal blue, and bigger than was normal for his apparent age, but he ignored those details, if for no other reason than to preserve his sanity) in the middle of his forehead, right above his eyes. So he was a unicorn, then, and he had a blanket on his back. Alright. He could work with that, too-- he might have magic, but he was also in a world where a third of the population also had magic, so he was still fairly ordinary. Good. He was a perfectly ordinary unicorn colt with an unnecessary blanket on his back, which he was going to fix right now--!

Craning his head back, he made to pull the now confirmed blanket off his back when he froze in horrified, disbelieving shock at the sight that greeted him: apparently, he'd been wrong about the blanket, as, right there, attached right behind his shoulder blades, was a pair of wings. That were bigger than they should be. And pale lavender.

He began to twitch as the facts began to sink in: he was an alicorn, in a world where alicorns were overpowered benevolent rulers. What's more, he was an alicorn with a ridiculous color scheme, and-- he looked past his wings, more out of morbid curiosity than anything-- would you look at that? He already had a Cutie Mark, and it was-- surprise, surprise-- overly elaborate and what his nephews would have deemed "cool-looking": a silver circle connecting four other circles corresponding to the previously mentioned ridiculous color scheme, surrounding a twelve-point golden starburst that contained within it a silver crescent moon. The twitching only grew more violent as his mind tried to rebel against the truth staring him in the face, and turned into spasms as his mind lost the battle and accepted the truth of the matter. He felt a little piece of his soul die, and finally snapped.

And so, faced with his worst nightmare come true, 98-year-old Martin Stewards-- often called Marty Stu by just about everyone that knew him, much to his eternal shame-- reacted in the only way he felt was appropriate to his situation.

“MOTHERFUCKER!!!”

-Break-

A/N: ...I think I got most of the HiE beginning cliches up there. Did I miss any?