PROLOGUE
There's always the bomb - the megaspell that's destined to obliterate Equestria. When I first saw the Wasteland in my dreams, I thought it was my job to stop it. To stop the war, to stop the megaspells, to stop us ponies from becoming the monsters I saw in visions of our dark future.
The trouble is: I can't stop it. Nopony can. You can change the future; you can change the present. Rumor has it that, with the right spells, you can even change the past, but some things simply won't budge. The apocalypse, sad to say, is one of them. It is going to happen. No matter what you do, the doomsday clock just keeps on ticking.
There's always the bomb.
* * *
BOOK ONE
THE GREAT ESCAPE
* * *
CHAPTER ONE – THE WASTELAND
"I will show you fear in a handful of dust." -T.S. Eliot
My story starts where so many other stories get started, and so many beginnings get begun - the quest for a cutie mark. What sets my experience apart from others' is that when I finally did achieve my cutie mark, it was one of the most miserable experiences of my life. It's supposed to be the happiest time in your childhood. You discover your purpose, your meaning, the one thing in the whole wide world you do better than anypony else.
Not me. I still don't know what the stupid symbol means.
Here’s the thing, though. That confusion wasn’t what made me miserable. Sure, it sucked, but it was a cover up – an excuse. What really ate at me was my secret life. I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really just wanted to be like every other kid.
I didn’t realize that that was what I wanted until the complete opposite happened. I found the Wasteland, or rather, it found me. I had to pass through every fire in Hell to do it, but I came out with a picture on my flank.
I was a totally changed pony, but I wasn’t sure it was for the better.
* * *
You see, I'd spent months trying to figure out what my special talent was. I wanted to be the first in my class to get one, so I laid out a plan. Have you ever noticed that a lot of ponies' names are pretty much just descriptions of their cutie marks? Well, I did, but nopony believed me, so while everypony was off joining clubs and sports and pursuing bizarre and irrelevant interests, I started right with my name - Rose Petal. I mean, that had to be it, right? Think about it! I looked almost identical to my sister Roseluck, except for the yellow, white, and pink streaks running through my red mane – all the different colors a rose could possibly be. It didn’t take a genius to figure out my destiny.
"Sis," I said. "Can you teach me to garden?"
She spat out her tea at the mention of it.
"Um…Are you sure?" She said, dabbing her chin with a napkin. It concealed her awkward smile.
I just grinned widely and nodded. My smile was cute enough to make a squeaky sound, so I knew I had her wrapped around my hoof.
Roseluck stared me down for a good long while, furrowing her brow, stroking her chin for dramatic effect as she silently weighed me with her eyeballs.
"Well," She said at long last. "If you really want to give it another try."
"I do! I do!" I bounced around her in circles.
After breakfast she led me into the garden - a cathedral of roses of every conceivable color. Bushes guarded the corners of each walkway like temple statues, or those big kitties I’d seen pictures of perched at the entranceway to the Manehattan Public Library. I don’t know why, but I pet them as I passed by, even though they were just regular old bushes. I even decided to name one of them. “Larry,” I called it, though I have no idea where the idea for the name came from. It just sounded like a funny word to me.
When you’re standing in Roseluck’s garden, great big vines arch over you from all directions - giant buttresses of flower. Sometimes, when the dew on the pedals catches the sunlight just right, it shines like a stained glass window. In fact, Roseluck says they're even brighter than Celestia’s windows, but she said we shouldn't tell Princess Celestia that, of course, because that's not very nice. Plus she's the princess and you don't say things like that to princesses. So far, I have not met any princesses, but if it ever does come up, I feel totally ready to be civil about the whole window thing.
Anyway, it was one of those stained glass window mornings. The sun was still low in the sky, the flowers were shining, and my sister was yelling at me again.
"Rose Petal, no!"
Before I knew it, the giant shears that I'd picked up were snatched right out of my hooves.
"But - but," I started to whine. A stern look zipped my lip pretty fast, and told me that that line of complaining wasn't going to get me anywhere. My poor sister looked exhausted. She tried to hide it, but she never was very good at that sort of thing.
"Why don't we start you out with…" Roseluck looked around at all of the various gardening tools, desperate for something she could give me that I wouldn't hurt myself with.
"Relax." I threw on my smoothest smile. "I can handle myself."
"Oh! I know!"
A big old sack of soil plopped down in front of me. A cloud of dust burst out when it hit the ground.
"Dirt?"
This time it was her turn to give the adorable squeaky smile. Older sisters shouldn't be able to do that! It’s not fair.
"See? All you gotta do is stomp out the clumps until they're nice and soft."
"That's it?" I said dryly.
Desperate as I was, I really didn't want to end up with a cutie mark in dirt. Luckily, as it turned out, I was in no danger of that. No sooner had Big Sis disappeared into the shed to get some supplies than I found myself face first in a pile of soil, and covered with thorn scratches from head to hoof. I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but it started with a garden hose I tripped on, a rake to the face, a whirlwind of I don't even remember what, and, well, let's just say it escalated from there. I am not a graceful pony.
Gardening was out. Check.
* * *
Over the months that followed, I volunteered to help out in just about every shop and farm. My friend Blueberry Milkshake came with me every now and again, but she wasn’t as passionate in her search as I was, especially after she found her own cutie mark which was, as you may have already guessed, a blueberry milkshake. To her credit, she tagged along for my sake, but I was the one who really threw my heart into it, and pitched in toward every local activity I could think of.
Except school.
I liked Miss Cheerilee and all, but I wasn't about to spend any more time in that big red house than I had to. I'm not crazy! At least I wasn't crazy yet. I didn't start losing my mind until the dreams started happening.
Anyway, on the night I got my cutie mark, Roseluck tucked me in as always, and I was reluctant to let her, as usual. It wasn’t ‘cause I was afraid of nightmares or anything like that. At that point, I didn’t have any idea what awaited me on the other side of the veil, and the only nightmares I’d ever had had involved being late for school, or dropping a pile of dishes in front of everypony I knew, or something to do with that bitch* Diamond Tiara.
(Okay, I’m really, really, really not supposed to use that word, but since neither Diamond Tiara nor Roseluck are ever going to read this, I might as well get it out of my system now. Diamond Tiara is the bitchiest bitch who ever bitched in from Bitch Street down by the Bitch District of midtown Bitchville. Why? Because she’s just that big of a bitch, and even her cutie mark indicates that her special talent is being a spoiled bitch. I bet she will die alone. She will die alone of being a bitch. There, I said it.)
“Time for bed.” My sister called out in a sing-songy voice. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to soothe or insult me, but I didn’t care. I was in too bubbly a mood.
“What about sandwiches?”
“Not before bed.”
“What about a story?”
“Another one?”
“The other story wasn’t about sandwiches.” I whined as I literally tried to leap out of bed. Roseluck pulled me back down and pinned me gently but firmly under the covers.
“You can’t have a sandwich so you want me to tell you a story about sandwiches.”
“Can the story have pickles on it? And mayonnaise?”
Roseluck didn’t bat an eye. She’s just that used to me. “Sure,” she said, on condition of my going to sleep afterward.
I don’t remember what the story was about. I just know it started with, “Once upon a time there was a sandwich named Ryelight Sparkle, who journeyed to Sandwichville to oversee the planning for the Summer Sandwich Celebration.” Then I fell asleep.
* * *
At first it was black. Black as black blackitty black black. Then I saw a blinding green flash, and heard the screams of millions of ponies. It was like having a chalkboard inside your brain with countless razors scraping against it, only worse because every scratch was actually somepony crying.
I think I screamed. Yes, I must’ve. But I couldn’t hear my own voice. At all.
The next thing I knew, I found myself shivering, huddled against cold brick on every side. Celestia only knows how long I had been crouched there. I don’t even think I realized I had been huddling – that I was even cold. I didn’t realize I was anywhere at all. I had totally shut down after the chalkboard-full-of-explosions thingy that had happened in my brain. It was only nostrils full of smoke that slapped me in the face and made me come to.
I opened my eyes. I was alive. Out in the cold somewhere, surrounded by brick, I must have been in a broken old chimney or something, but I couldn’t tell. It was too damn dark. Covered in ash and dust, I squeezed out of a hole in the side of the chimney, and wriggled on out of there, snagging my mane on the jagged bricks as I fell. A dry yelp climbed out of my throat. I rubbed my sore scalp. It was definitely night time, but it had to be like, the darkest night in the history of ever. Luna’s beautiful moon was gone. Just gone. That’s how thick the clouds were.
I looked for a fire to determine if I was in any immediate danger, but found none – only clouds of smoke wafting aimlessly across a field. I stumbled around, looking desperately for signs of life - a place I might recognize, any sign of civilization at all, but there were only silhouettes of twisted metal framework around, and partially crumbled brick walls.
“Hello?” I called out with a cough.
The dust in my throat probably saved my life. Everypony in the Wasteland knows you don’t just call out blindly like that. You’re a whole lot safer if whoever is out there doesn’t find you. But I didn’t know that. I wasn’t from the Wasteland, was I? I cleared my throat meekly and went out in search of water.
Stumbling out over brick and rocks, I made my way over a toppled wall, and came down with a big stupid clumsy crash. I rode the skin of my knee all the way down a nasty little pile of rubble, and came up crying. Again I was saved by a small miracle. As banged up and bruised as I was, the moment I looked up, I saw something that knocked the wind right the buck out of me, and actually made me forget for a while that I had a great big ol' bleeding knee.
Right in front of me was that touch of civilization I’d been looking for - a bit of familiarity. But I was sorry I’d found it.
A sign bigger than a cottage loomed over me - at least the parts of it that were in tact. There was a zebra depicted in the center - unlike any zebra I’d ever seen. Okay, so I’d only ever seen one zebra back in Ponyville, but she was nothing like this. The zebra in the picture had features so exaggerated that she was hardly recognizable as pony at all! Giant white teeth and eyes, more rings on her ears and neck than any actual zebra could fit on her whole body, and a bone driven straight through her muzzle. She lurked maliciously in the back room of a bookstore, cackling over a cauldron full of skulls. An entire battalion of strangely dressed royal guards seized her, and reached into her satchel, but even then, she didn’t seem to want to take her attention off of that skull pot. It was as though it would take a dozen of Equestria’s Finest just to take out a single zebra by the sheer malice of her personality, and terrifying Evil of her intent. Standing in the corner was a concerned citizen, smiling like a dope, hoof pointed nobly at the zebra’s direction, and a crowd of proud onlookers patting him on the back.
The caption on the poster, in gigantic yellow letters, read “IF YOU SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING.”
There was a lot about that picture I didn’t understand at the time, and still don’t understand today. All I know is that it was clearly designed for grown-ups. I mean, look at it! It would have to be.
Sitting there in the middle of a wasteland, staring slack-jawed at this crazy image, I was reminded of how stupid adults are. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t understand them. I hope I never have to. I didn’t know who drew that ridiculous thing, but I did know that you were supposed to look at that Concerned Citizen, and think he’s a swell guy – a bucking hero. I couldn’t. All I saw in him was the worst thing anypony in the whole wide world could ever possibly hope to be – a tattletale. Any kid in the world could look at that poster and tell you that, but grown-ups - a lot of them anyway - just aren’t too bright.
I turned it over in my head a while, but it was just baffling. I mean, sure, there was this zebra lady everypony was terrified of when I was little, but she turned out to be okay, and even if she hadn’t, we hid from her. We didn’t attack her! Ponies don’t do things like that.
That’s the thing I had the hardest time understanding. The poster was like nothing that anypony in Ponyville would ever have dreamt up in their wildest nightmares.
I mean, the gleam in that zebra’s eye was so evil that you couldn’t possibly feel anything for her. Like she wasn’t a real pony at all – just a caricature - a thing. I was in a world where Celestia’s guards could rummage through your bag just because you were funny looking and stripy. Nopony saw a problem with this. You were actually rewarded for turning on your fellow horse!
It was too bewildering.
No. I decided. Celestia’s guards would never do anything like this! Luna’s neither.
I didn’t know where I was, or how I would ever manage to get home, but one thing was absolutely certain – this place was some new kind of hell, and I wasn’t in Equestria anymore.
* * *
It was only when I stared at that poster for a good long while that it dawned on me how far away from home I really was. I backed away slowly in disgust, knocking crumbling hunks of brick into one another as I stumbled. Nothing I’d ever seen in Equestria had ever lead me to believe that such a thing would even be possible – this kind of recklessness, this kind of hate.
That darn poster was to blame! I wanted to tear it down, or throw a rock at it or…something, but sadly, I didn’t get the chance. Instead, my hoof caught on a metal wire jutting out from a broken wall fragment, and I found myself flat on my back.
As suddenly as I had fallen, I heard hoof steps, or more precisely, that rattling sound when a rock tumbles down a pile of other rocks. I laid myself back down again. Slowly. I didn’t know what had happened to the world in the poster – the world I had, in my own head, named Jerkland – but I sure as hay didn’t trust anypony around here – the descendents of those left around to tell the tale.
The rocks tumbled closer. I remained dead silent. I didn’t even know what I was afraid of. I mean, anypony I ran into would logically want to get away from there as much as I did! But still something inside of me screamed. Hold still, hold still, hold still, omigosh, what the hay is going on, hold still! For once in my life, I listened and was quiet.
Tiny pebbles and particles of dust kicked up by the strangers’ hooves started raining on me. They were that close. I heard no talking, just tedious stomping. I wasn’t sure how many of them there were, but they weren’t friends, and they weren’t enjoying each other’s company. Scared as I was, I found that kind of sad.
I lay there quietly. I didn’t scream. It didn’t occur to me to scream. I would have coughed, but it didn’t occur to me to cough either. It didn’t even occur to me to breathe. I just sat there listening to my own heartbeat thundering in my head, terrified that its stupid thumping would give me away.
Then a hoof stomped inches from my forehead, and I flung my eyes open in terror. I couldn’t help it. I thought it would be the end. They passed right by me. Just like that. Before the dust cloud started stinging and my eyes began to water, I caught a quick glimpse of them.
There were two bad guys, each wearing matching pink cloaks with yellow daisies on them. That sounds cheerful, but their robes were tattered and covered with blood. Not the red stuff you see when you first bang yourself up, but that black stuff you see when you throw away the bandage. Whatever these guys were up to, it didn’t seem to bother them that they had nasty crusty old blood on their robes. They surely woulda had time to wash it off. They just didn’t care. The thought sent shivers up my spine.
Draped over one of their backs was a colt just barely older than I was. His hooves were bound. There was fresh blood in his mane, and he was looking right the buck at me. I don’t know how he saw me, but he did. In fact, he downright lit up at the sight of me.
I squeezed my eyes shut and wrinkled my nose, desperate not to sneeze as the dust and ash settled in full force on my face. What in Jerkland was going on? Why were they towing around some kid? What were they going to do to him?
It didn’t even make any sense. Why?!
As I squeezed my eyelids shut to keep the dust out, I started to shake with anger. I had to squeeze down even tighter just to keep from crying or screaming. Right in front of me, something horrible was happening, and there was nopony around to do anything about it! I was powerless to stop this colt from getting – well, I didn’t know what they were going to do to him, but I knew I needed to stop the Jerks from Jerkland from doing it.
I opened my eyes again just in time to watch the strange boy’s head sink. I’d let him down. I’d done nothing. Nopony had ever looked at me like that before. I mean, sure Roseluck had been disappointed in me from time time to time, but this was not that “we are mad at you for stealing from the cookie jar and knocking over the cookie jar, and trying to cover it up by pasting the cookie jar back together and sweet Celestia, look at you, how did you even manage to get entire cookies pasted into your mane?” kinda disappointment. No. I gave that strange little boy a glimpse of hope for a tiny moment – maybe even the last feeling of hope he would ever know before they locked him up in a dungeon with no toys and no books and no friends (or whatever it was they were planning to do to him). I gave him hope. Then I broke his heart.
To make matters more confusing, I heard a voice just then. It sounded like my voice, but I have no idea where the idea came from at all. It just sort of surfaced inside my head like a bubble coming up in the middle of the ocean.
“Follow them.” It said.
It sounded just like me.
“Follow them, are you crazy?” I snapped back at myself. I also sounded just like me.
“Follow them.” The voice repeated.
I watched the silhouettes disappear behind the billboard. I could still hear them, but the sound was still all shuffling, and no talking. The two cloak-headed meanies were definitely not friends.
But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I was out of their line of sight, and I needed to find some kind of safety. I rose to my hooves, brushed myself off, and tip-hooved out of there. I wanted to run. I wanted to gallop wildly in the total opposite direction, but everything in Jerkland was equally awful all around, so I made my way across the most even ground, and tried not to kick loose any rubble.
I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t have any idea what I was going to do, but I knew that it had to involve moving. I may not have had the guts to charge after that poor boy, slung helpless over the cloak-head’s back, but I didn’t have the heart to let him out of my sight either.
Steadily, I made for higher ground. The bad guys had come from the other side of a hill. I hadn’t heard a peep from them till they’d emerged over the top. That meant that, whatever else I might find on the other side, there had to be ground that I could move on quietly.
Maybe there would even be a village or something!
“Follow them.” I told myself again, but couldn’t figure out why.
“Maybe the boy has parents over there.” I reasoned with myself.
“Follow them.”
There was a pale light on the other side. Maybe somepony could help!
“Follow them.” The voice repeated firmly. It was still my voice. Why did I keep saying that?
The ground gradually became more earth and less rubble, so I broke out into a trot. The hill was steep, and I was already running out of breath. But I didn’t care. Anything to make the voice stop.
“Follow them.” It said yet again, louder than before.
“Follow them,” I parroted what it said under my breath in a nasal sing-songy voice. Maybe if I teased it, it would go away.
It didn’t. The voice just repeated itself.
“For the last time,” I shouted inside my head as I broke into a silent gallop. “There’s nothing I can do to save him.” A few more steps and I would reach the top of the hill.
Then the voice replied quietly and calmly. “He’s not the one you have to save.”
I stopped in my tracks, and looked back over my shoulder. “What?” I actually said aloud. No answer came.
I could see the bad guys down there, far past the billboard – their shapes anyway. If I’m not supposed to save him, what in the hoof was I supposed to do then? Just follow them and watch?
Watch him die? Is that what they were going to do? Could ponies actually do that? Kill each other? Even Jerkland couldn’t be that terrible a place. Sure, this place had a tarnished past. Hate. Fear. All that fun stuff I’d seen in that stupid poster – that air of wrongness I could still smell in the air 190 years later. (How did I know it had been 190 years?) But killing children? And I was expected to watch it?
I kept my eye on the figures moving slowly and steadily across a vast gray wasteland. I kept walking without looking where I was going; I was so intent on staring down those strangers. They were actually going to kill him.
For some stupid reason I had to follow them, not even to save him, but to save somepony else who I hadn’t even seen. I wanted to scream, but instead, I walked right into the remains of a cement wall. It only went as high as my scuffed up knee. I’d reached the top of the hill, and hadn’t even noticed. Immediately, I whipped around to see what life was like on the other side.
There was a village, alright. I wouldn’t be getting any help from them any time soon. It was only a blotch in the distance, but it was a blotch that was on fire. Nopony was stampeding around trying to put it out. Nopony was rushing in or out of buildings, because anypony who could possibly have cared about the fate of the village was already gone. There were only figures moving calmly and dutifully away, towing some sort of cargo – as if the fires didn’t faze them. The bastards had done it on purpose. This is what ponydom had come to in Jerkland.
Looking past the village, or what remained of it, I saw something far worse. It was a mountainside. Built against the side of it was the silhouette of a castle – a skyline that I’d seen pictures of before lit up by millions of magic lamps. There were no lights now. It was just a shadow, but its shape was positively unmistakable. I was looking at the ruins of Canterlot.
The dirt in my hooves, the ash in my face – it was us. Not a bunch of jerks from some far away land where jerkiness was somehow more possible than in Equestria. The dust was Equestria. I was home, and somehow, the jerks had been us all along.
The ground gave way beneath me.
I felt weightless for a moment before I realized that I was falling. Falling off some cliff or some precipice I must not have seen. Falling into some Celestia-forsaken darkness. Falling, falling, falling. I couldn’t see a damn thing, and all I could hear was the barking of angry dogs.
* * *
I found myself on the floor of my bedroom screaming. Roseluck came rushing in. She knelt beside me. “Rose Petal, Rose Petal, answer me.” She said, gripping me by the shoulders. It was the first real terror I’d heard in her voice since Dad left. “Rose Petal!”
Suddenly, I looked around. I was home. Actual home, not some weird future home where everything sucks and is covered in ponydust.
I was back in Ponyville. I reached out and touched Roseluck’s cheek with my hoof. She was real. She ran her hoof over my mane, not a clue what had happened, but clearly terrified for me.
I threw myself against her chest and finally allowed myself to weep. She didn’t say a word.
"Innocence most often is a good fortune and not a virtue."
-Anatole France
Woe is Rose Petal; who -in the age of innocence- has the grim future thrusted upon her. How commendable that she attempts to make sense of this horrid reality with the understanding of a child, especially when such visions of pain and misery would break any lesser individual years older than herself and leave them numb and inert. Or is it because she is a child that she was not broken? Scarred? Perhaps, but not broken.
A very interesting start to a story. Looking forward to more.
I was very impressed with this. The concept is relatively fresh and interesting, you have a good cadence in your writing style, and Rose Petal is already becoming a relate-able and believable character through her unique and consistent inner dialogue. In short, it was just really good. Looking forwards to more, and you better bet I'll be looking for something to complain about, because so far, there's nothing.
Something I'm a little confused about. This chapter (not the dream scenes) seems to take place around the time of the show (as she mentions Diamond Tiara as a classmate). Based on the narration, it seems to be told on or after the Last Day. She would have been middle aged by the Last Day, and has been haunted by these nightmares her whole life. So why is the prose so child-like and innocent?
This story is great (certainly better than most Fallout: Equestria stories): it's original, the character is likable, the spelling and grammar are solid. I'm curious to see how this turns out.
A filly with the curse of Cassandra. Poor Rose Petal. May the stars have mercy on your soul, because nothing else is going to.
2200389
The entire story is told from her point of view as a child in modern day Ponyville. She writes this as a kid. Her assertion that the bomb can't be stopped is based on what she learns on her journeys to the future.
First some quick style notes (not corrections; you're free to ignore all of these if you really want to):
1. The asterisks you used a couple of times in this chapter (such as when Rose was talking about the bitchiness of Diamond Tiara) are unnecessary. It's clear from the context what the parenthetical comments are referring to.
2. While not a hard-and-fast rule, the standard used for writing thoughts as dialogue is to only italicize, rather than both italicizing and using quotation marks as you're doing.
3. Again, not a hard-and-fast rule, but online it's standard to put a full empty line between paragraphs instead of just indenting. Using indents looks good with printed materials, which is why it's done with books, but an empty line looks much cleaner and easier to read on a screen, which is why all websites (and all other stories on this site) do that instead.
4. I don't understand why the chapter title puts a space in "wasteland". Is this purposeful, or a mistake? If it is purposeful, you might want to reconsider your choice of it because it looks really odd.
5. I think you accidentally repeated your author's notes at the end.
Now that that's out of the way, I'm really liking this so far! There's not much in the way of...well, plot, yet, but concept is pretty interesting and one I've never seen before. I was especially amused by Rose Petals genre savviness when it comes to names and cutie marks.
Looking forward to where you're going with this.
Great story, going to watch how it continues.
2237224
I formatted it to look like a book for the PDF version. I'm new to FimFiction, so I didn't know that I would not be able to keep my format when I moved it to the website. Thanks for the formatting advise, though. I'll bear that in mind for Chapter 2.
As for The Waste Land, it is a reference to the quote "I will show you fear in a hand full of dust." That's from T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land, which is three words, and not two. "Wasteland" and "waste land" are both acceptable ways of writing it.
2299747 "Waste land" may be an acceptable way to write it; the problem, however, is that you write it as "wasteland" everywhere else. It looks better to choose one style and stick with it than alternate between various spellings (and that applies to everything, not just wasteland).
2299818 I changed it for clarity's sake. Thanks for the formatting tip.
A very, very good start!
First, let me say that I loved the quote you chose for this chapter. Excellent.
I'm loving the character of Rose Petal so far. You have managed to create a fairly intellectual and surprisingly mature child while not losing the sense of innocence and childishness (a story about sandwiches!) that keeps her a delightful child. Her occasional quirky and childlike word choices (Jerkland!) make her thoughts fun to read. Likewise, we don't forget that she is a pony -- you've kept the charming silliness of My Little Pony with her cartoonish clumsiness and similar elements (like the squeeky smile).
The billboard was perfect Fallout: Equestria, and wonderfully described and handled.
The jerks am us. It's too true. Your idea for the fic is solid. I'll have to keep reading.
PS: Greetings from your ol' pal, Warbalist. We should collab some time. Jam out on guitars.
PPS: I discovered what may be a typo:
"I you really want to give it another try."
Alright. Heard good things about this fic, so time to give it a try. And overload you with way way to in depth commenting and analyzing
Hmmm, I like already. Reading the description already have an idea what the story is about, but ignoring that, nice set up already. Telling us quite a bit, without actually saying much. Giving us plenty of questions. Who is this? How do they know about the bombs? The Wastes? Can they really stop it? If not, then what will be the point of the story? Now, given this little bit, and the intro blurb, I already have a few guesses. Either this ends up being AU and she DOES find someway to stop it. Not all the likely, but possible. OR, what I'm guessing might be the case, the story is simply not that big in scope overall. What I mean is, no they can't prevent The End, but, maybe it's not about the big thing, but about the little ones. Changing small things, saving ponies who would have died, making small, tiny changes that are nonetheless positive, that will matter. Like I said just a complete wild ass guess based on the little bit I know. But already eager to see what's coming and where the story goes.
Hmmm, more questions. One not related to the story, is just how am I going to handle this. Still debating between just some really in depth comments, or just some more sparse, first impression type things, followed by a more in depth blog post like this one I did for the main fic Might take a few chapters before I get the balance right.
But as to the story, again already getting drawn in by the questions. Given the wording, guessing the pony doing it is still fairly young. But how young? Her cutie mark day was miserable. But why? Something to do with the Wastelands, but how did she connect to them?
Then this, so young enough that she's worried about using inappropriate words. But, who is she saying this too? And using * as a footnote.. does that mean the whole thing is being written out by the character?
But yeah, just two little bits in, and already getting drawn in, so, really great start.
And somepony finally notices that. Really nice.
why would that be such a shock?
Hmmmm, and her being able to point out another thing that ponies don't seem to notice. Now, I can already see how some people might not quite like it. Find it to 'meta' a bit to distracting. But, I kind of like it, though hope it doesn't get to overdone. AND, raises a question. Maybe her ability to perceive these things most ponies ignore is related to why she ends up seeing The Wastes. Oh and, already really really want to start bringing Doctor Who references into this. Fixed points in time, perception filters...
Really nice description. Though, still having a hard time pinning down Rose Petal's current age. Not the one in the story, but the one telling the story. Keeps swaying between rather mature, and still rather young, just on how she talks. Though, guessing might be a case of still technically pretty young, but experiencing the Wastes caused her to mature faster then she should have to. But even then, a little filly, just of Cutie mark age dealing with The Wastes... it would be hard enough for a grown pony, but a foal? That is... not going to be pleasant.
So, is it just her being paranoid? Given she's one of the Flower Trio, would not surprise me in the least. Or... has Rose Petal done stuff before that gives Roseluck a reason to be worried?
And the latter. Rose Petal seems to be a bit of a klutz. Alright, talking SPECIAL, we know she has really low agility, and with the whole Meaningful Name and Squeaky smile spotting and all, guessing high Perception.
Really, or just, a kind of, feeling that she is?
So I was right, she's writing it down. Called it!
:fluttersad: Ouch... given... given what DOES happen to her..
There is a big sister, who has dealt with this kind of thing far far to much. Though, sooooo, are there's parents still around?
So, she's been there enough to know these things before she started writing this. And that begs another question, just how far into the Wastes is she? To soon after the Bombs, and there wouldn't be anything able to be alive. Clearly it's before Littlepip, but how far? And where exactly is she in them? And of course the main question, how the buck did she get there? Is it really just a dream? What would happen if she was hurt, or even died in the Wastes?
Hmmm, bit overdone, and yet.... can't really say it isn't something the MOI might have come up with.......
Yup, so is that going to be one of the themes here? Looking at the mistakes, the errors, the fuck ups the adults did, from a child's perspective?
So guessing that's a yes to my question. Though, also showing why a kids POV isn't necessarily right. Tattletale, yeah to a kid that is just wrong but, there are times.. you DO need to tell about something going on. But yeah going to be interesting looking at things from the more simplified view of a foal.
And here is one thing that is.. kind of.. iffy so far to me. I get she is supposed to still be rather young. Maybe not CMC age still, but at least still not an adult. Which, is fine and yeah looking forward to seeing that POV. But then, there are times she just, doesn't seem like one already. Like here. Just word choices, some of the ways she phrases things. I have a hard time seeing a foal talking like that at all. Granted it's still really early in the story, and these issues might either be explained or clear up later, but already.... just a tiny thing that's kind of bugging me.
On that, you are 100% correct.
So first trip to the wastes and, she's handling it rather well. Almsot to well. Just kind of "Huh, I'm here, now how do I get home?" No freaking out, no being terrified, no wondering what the buck was going on? Granted, it's being written by her later, so maybe she's just glossing over that stuff. Looking back with her current knowledge of the Wastes and what's going on, and forgetting just what it might have felt like that first time.
Well that's a bit harsh but... not entirely undeserved...
Get what you are going for but, still feels a tad odd to me....
Okay.. that was funny, and yet, hard to laugh given what else is going on. But yeah, nice image... in the middle of a much much worse one..
Hmmmmm, so, her own subconscious talking? Or, something else? Something related to why she's in the Wastes?
Wha!? Okay, so... twist. What's going on?
If only....
Okay so, a few years before Littlepip, another question of how she knows it, and and those last ones... overall she's really handling this a whole hell of a lot better then you'd think a foal would. Or anypony really.
Ehhhh, again get what you are going for but, the whole "It was us all along" bit guess there just hadn't been quite enough 'all along' for that to really hit. Or maybe it's just already knowing that. Though yeah could be a rather nasty shock for her.
Okay, their dad left them? So that's one parent accounted for... kind of...
Okay the reaction on waking up, much more believable. Though, could just attribute the reactions in the Wastes to shock, or, well if it IS just a dream.. then that.......
Wait you do the "Help my heart id full of ponies" articles? I love those!
Alright first chapter. Yeah I could totally try and make a more in depth thing for these. So not going to go to in depth here, but on the whole. Really liked the set up, everything leading to the first journey to the Wastes. But the part.... it was good but, just felt off. her reactions to it were, odd..... And the whole not really feeling like something a foal would write. Not sounding like a foal in her writing, other then the times she draws attention to it. It's.. just a bit off-putting...
But, okay so yeah seeing a few possible issues so far, but overall, a really great start. and enjoyed it. Already invested, wanting to larn more, to see what's going on, to find out what the hell is going on, why? So many questions. Rose Petal herself... not sure how I feel about her, still a bit hard to really get a grasp on her...
So, yeah few issues, but those might be things that get better, or are explained later. But a good overall start and a really intriguing premise. Gimme a bit to think over some things and let it settle before I try to do the more in depth writing for the chapter.
I recommend "equine" as a cross-species adjective, but that little thing aside, this is off to a great start. The writing mechanics here are perfectly solid, and the story has me interested enough to keep going.
I think this is gonna be a good-'un. In which case, only 89 likes is blasphemy.
I am curios as to where this is going.
I shall read and find out.
Also, this is for Rose to give her inspiration when thinking of Diamond Tiara.
This looks interesting. Too bad it's impossible for me to read while a TV is running in the background.
Rose Petal. Charming child.*
*upon reaeing of her opinion upon Diamond Tiara.
I put this off for too long. I was going to read this like... 2 years ago or something when Kkat promoted it on her blog. Roseluck's sister seeing the grimdark future? Alright, we can do that.
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Whoa! A show trope in my grimdark FoE fanfic? Communist infiltration, I swear!
It is kinda cute how MLP will throw out the occasional white girl name -- even for some ponies like Wendy Whistles -- but most bronies will stick to a rigid name-theming convention and refuse to even acknowledge it. Nice to see it get pointed out.
Only one had is necessary here.
Aha! There's the FoE edginess I knew was coming. The MLP tropes had me a bit confused and off-guard.
Wew. This aged poorly... Almost as poorly as my headcanon for Hollow Shades. Curse you, season 7!
That's quite a lot of white space. I realize it's a scene break but some asterisks, a horizontal rule, some written Hindi — anything would be an improvement. Just tossing that out there.
intact is one word.
Why is Terrifying Evil capitalized? Is that an emphasis thing? I'm probably starting to sound like a jerk at this point, and I'm sorry if I do, but italics works much better for conveying irony and emphasis. Equestria's Finest is borderline as well.
Was it as bewildering as that lonely abandoned quotation mark? Man, this needs some editing...
That's a good analogy a child would use. Kudos! Also, ewwww grooooss!
Anytime is one word. I will say I am a at least getting drawn in by this point. I'm barely in to this and she's giving away that she knows how far in this future this is and that she knows they're going to kill him. She seemed pretty clueless having literally heard a million ponies die spectacularly upon entering the dream.
Maybe it belongs to King Askia of Songhai.
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Hang on... What about the Dead Money DLC — I mean the Pink Cloud? Anyone standing nearby that place has worse things to concern themselves with than fire.
What's ponydust?
Anyway... Huh. Well I do think the premise is neat. So she's going to doing small, heroic deeds in the Equestrian Wasteland in a ... That-One-Story-Where-A-Filly-Kills-Baddies-With-Pink-Cloud-Accidently sort of way. Whatever it's called. It's worth reading another chapter to see where this goes, but it could use some brushing up if you get some spare time. Just a proofreader to poke around and tighten the nuts and screws or something.
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I'll admit that it took me a few chapters to find Rose's voice, and to really nail down the tone. I'm glad you're intrigued. It gets better, I promise. :pinkie happy:
Anyway, thanks for your input.
I think I got a good narrator voice going on for her.
Something casual. Past tone, maybe a little uppity, but solemn at the same time.
I can easily see her screaming at Celestia and Luna "you'll kill us all!" Before being dragged away by security.
I finally got around to reading this after a hundred years. So far, I really like this story! Rose Petal reminds me of my youngest sister, actually. Anyway, I'm going to add this to my favorites and keep reading!!
Nice work!
-AP