Disposable Income Monitored

by Fireflower

Rating: teen
Tags: Twist, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Other, Thriller, Drama, Original Character, Profanity, Random, Violence, Crossover
Length: 1212

A simple challenge for the sake of a contest: a prize to be claim if possible; a crossover experiment in media res so to speak. Failing that, a short story with low expectations and higher inquiries based on its contents in question nevertheless...

Commerce and labor are the lifeblood of economics, great and small, and today's world in and out of Equestria was no exception: even though bits are standard currency in their native homeland, lighter packages are still possible, especially regarding exchange; however, the concept of honest wages are still alienated for an alarming percentage of individuals, many who have turned to a life of crime and villainy.

Once upon a time, there were a trio of suitcases being pursued by a band of traitors to their nation, whether one world or another; now, one remains and along with it, one survivor, frustrated by an otherwise best laid plan thwarted by unforeseen consequences as is: it wasn't enough for one to be lost in the landmass, now another individual has stumbled across its contents and conspiratorial cutthroats.

Enter a tree stump, stuck in a desert along a horse with a name and an injury in dire need of treatment from the former's perspective: little is know about the latter except for the color of tresses and coat, not it'd done much good so to speak despite breathing freely; either way, as far as they're both concerned, by and large, regarding the scheme, to quote a junkie's words, "he can't keep getting away with this...!"

An entry for the A Thousand Words Contest II in the Experimental category.

Published 2023-07-30 04:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2023-07-30 04:10:01 UTC

Plant Amongst Silicate

Author's Note

My name is Fireflower and this is my fourth My Little Pony Fanfic, using normal canon characters that is rated T for Teen; therefore, it is no clopfic whatsoever but it does have some moments of distress to a small extent: as a matter of fact, it took me about over two hours to make this because it's going to be a contest entry y'all know of so to speak of.

Anyways, I just want to state for the record, aside from My Little Pony, or rather Friendship Is Magic along with its setting and characters belonging to Lauren Faust and Hasbro, the character on the cover is Dave from Yin Yang Yo whom belongs to Bob Boyle II, not Disney so they can eat ground glass for all I care, especially after what they were doing right now.

Enjoy it while you can 'cause this was inspired by an R–rated film, Cliffhanger, I'd been watching a lot since I was a little toddler and since it's out of my system now, you should know that I'm frustrated with the fact even syndication has messed up its contents, even during the watershed periods so to speak of, leading me to make this crossover challenge.

Plant Amongst Silicate

It was dark as night but more limited in dimensions as of yet, one that was young and envied by observers as far as it was known; speaking of which, there were at least two of them whom had seemed to be alike in fair dignity as a light was emanating all about: their current location was a mess but otherwise in order, despite the lawlessness tracked in from the outside world of beyond.

Verily, the dual occupants in question were different for all their similarities, especially considering their own appearance: one was a pasty redhead with long hair and a small gauze covering the forehead, resting in betwixt both bedding and mattress; another, all bark and in no mood whatsoever to bite as there were a few leaves overhead, two of which furrowed brows.

Xenofiction was the experiment in action, yet the two were neither observers nor subjects, just as class was out of session as it were; even now, the oxygen they’d shared together was threatening to transmutation into something unfit for respiration or aspiration: the latter couldn’t help it for even a second, the solid integuments picking up on whatever dioxide came by from wheresoever.

Likewise, the former was wheezing about, slow and steady as a turtle but without a shell or shelter from the elements alone; although safe and sound, the occasional gasping was enough for a brief alarm to be served without chili or banditry no less: it was dry as a desert but much colder as far as it was heard within the confines so to speak of, not there was much to communicate.

Come to think of it, all was calm and peaceful between themselves, something that was ever so desperately needed in tried times: the past was just a distant memory, flammable as cellulose, ergo in dire need of preservation for whatever posterity would be awed; as for the future, it was coming on like a troublesome entendre nobody was ready, willing, or able to prepare for as is.

Despite the thickness all throughout, the hardened tenant saw thru it all with the softness of both amethyst orbs, one commonality: the curvatures made underneath the bedspread was enough to show how different they were on a cellular level for want of a lemma; that being said, not even the lighter sleeper was in danger either, despite the papery protection woven uniformly anyways.

Much words were left on the wayside as the latter turned the viewpoint over to a much blackened suitcase sitting onto a desktop: whatever fabrics were they and would’ve been worn, they’d never cover up the stains of a rather otherwise clean exterior as is; by contrast, the contents were emanating with an aroma of a troubled past ready to make contact in the future so to speak of it.

“Rest easy, Twist: even though I’d found a way back, I can’t leave you here like this, not when they’re still messing around…” a low and husky voice muttered effortlessly about.

Meanwhile, the sands of time had been exposed to and by the golden sun above them as they were many times ago in the past: as beautiful its landscape was and is, desolation could be felt between heaven and earth, moreso beneath solid ground as it were; as a matter of fact, only the leafy onlooker was found in the area, protected by a large umbrella with some achromatic jugs.

Dark spots loomed underneath the loner’s purple eyes, imprinted between the snow white sclerae and the few freckles clustered: the leaves above themselves were arched together as they’d looked into binoculars’ lens at this present moment in due time; the heat and humid were nothing compared to the raw emotion channeled within their owner’s grimace shaken and stirred.

Considering the environment in and of itself, the leafy looker wouldn’t be the only one at wits’ end about the wait so to speak of: even with some water for company, they were a necessity compared to the solid object accompanying them all as it were; as a matter of fact, there were other plants but none like their observer, a bunch of cacti, greater and smaller as each other here.

Long ago, such an incursion and/or excursion was unthinkable by and large, no matter what the preparations made in their way; of course, patience was a virtue out of many, one that wouldn’t be so precarious signaled for the sake of attention, good and bad: in this case, all which had mattered was a certain turn of events to unfold out and about the desert, horseless and nameless.

Xenophobia was out of the question as far as the sands were concerned and so was xenophilia, neutral territory for nature as is; either way, it was only a matter of time until a meeting of the minds and souls alongside its bodies would finally take place: the ligneous looker knew it all too well as far as both eyes were still staring about, unperturbed by the wayward grains nevertheless.

Vitamins and minerals were in reserves as the leafy looker downed a jug of fluid without any kind of hesitation whatsoever; although some contents spilled onto the compound as they were, hydration was taking effect as the binoculars were overhead: its owner gasped for oxygen as the solution in and at hand regulated the temperatures within and beyond, returning focus at last.

In a matter of moments, morale was still descending thanks to gravity, even though there were no signs of steepness thereof here; although winds were hot and high, its gentle breezes were enough to keep the anticipation at bay, despite the sandy terrain as is: not even that would deter both flatfeet from making a trail somewhere else, especially after what had just been done as is.

A wave of static mesh escaped nearby the ligneous listener as an aged roughing tumbled bark garbled, “come in, dirtbag: I know you have the money; where the hell are you, dammit…‽”