Badfic Bonanza: In which I read nearly 100k Words of Pure Torment (Part 2)

The next chapter not only switches to an entirely different character, but the fifth chapter is also in first person without any indication as to why or if this will be a regular pattern. As if that's not enough, they're using Somber's protagonist from Project Horizons:

My name is Blackjack. Before, I went by the name Go Fish, but I changed it because I didn't like the sound of it. I'm 20 years old and I reside in Marechester, particularly in the Gay Village of the city. It's a decent place to live; there's no radiation or mutations to worry about, though there's a constant occurrence of shootings and car-jackings that one should not overlook.

1) THEY. DON'T. HAVE. FUCKING. CARS.
2) Our author, once again, did not ask to use this character. I have no idea if this is her actual backstory or why she's here.
3) How exactly are there no radiation or mutants? This is fucking Fallout and the author thinks that having even part of a country being nuked to nothingness on a continental level would allow the remaining portions to survive without collapse or any negative effects, allowing for a functioning society to exist alongside one filled with strife, slavers, and widespread poverty.

The bedrooms, too numerous to count, echo with the silent emptiness of their unoccupied beds. Even the air feels heavy with loneliness as it swirls through the hallways, carrying the weight of unspoken words and missed opportunities.

And then there's the pool. A shimmering oasis of tears, where I hurl myself from the balcony to plunge into its icy depths. As I sink into the cold embrace of the water, I find solace in its silent depths, surrounded by my own suffering as I gaze up at the indifferent gray sky above.

1) How does any of this exist in a literal wasteland?
2) Unless you have dyscalculia or a fucking castle, how can you not count the bedrooms in your own house?
3) This is My Immortal levels of prose here.

I've tried reaching out to Glory countless times, desperate for even the slightest hint of acknowledgment. But each attempt is met with the same icy silence, her voicemail message serving as a harsh reminder of our fractured relationship.

"I'm Glory," her voice echoes in my mind, dripping with disdain. "If you call me for a matter related to sex, rest assured I won't answer. Fuck off." It's the only response I've received from her since the day our trio fell apart, leaving behind nothing but bitterness and regret.

How do they have working phone networks in the fucking apocalypse?

After finishing my destructive rampage, I hurled the hammer aside and made my way to the weapons room. Dominating the space was my security armor, its dark blue hue contrasting sharply with the bold yellow number 99 emblazoned on its surface. The armor, covering nearly my entire body save for my tail and head, stood ready for action.

With a flick of my magic, I removed the Pipbuck from my left hoof and affixed it to the armor. The armor featured a button that allowed it to open halfway, facilitating easy entry. I gingerly positioned myself within its confines, and as it detected my weight, the armor closed around me, providing a snug fit while ensuring I remained cool with its built-in air conditioning.

If she's playing a character in a show in this universe, why aren't all of these fake? Does the author not know what props are? What do literally any of these weapons listed in the paragraph following these two look like? Also, why do they treat the plot of Somber's story (which is supposed to be fiction in this universe) and the relationships in it (presuming that they aren't altered) as though they're simultaneously real, and that none of the characters are actors, but they somehow also are? Why doesn't any of this make sense?

As I debated whether to bring my elixir of life, I hesitated. It was a precious resource, difficult to obtain, but ultimately, I decided against it. With weapons in hoof, I felt a sense of security—a necessary precaution in this unforgiving world, where danger lurked around every corner.

How does she have a literal elixir of immortality? What is even happening in this story?

One of my favorite places is the Gay bar, which is not far from my mansion. Sometimes, I go to those bars to meet mares and stallions and then invite them to spend the night with me.

'Gay' is not a proper noun.

I've had two cars, but I totaled them both. I'm not very good at driving, and because there are very few auto repairs in operation, they charge too much. Almost all my bottle caps are spent on alcohol or with prostitutes, so I couldn't buy another one even if I wanted to.

YOU. ARE. A. FUCKING. HORSE.

What sometimes saddens me is seeing multiple happy couples enjoying moments together while I walk through these streets.

Why are they doing this in the literal wasteland?

I found myself standing at the intersection of Pertland Street, where the traffic lights blinked in their ceaseless rhythm. This was the perfect spot to snag a vehicle, or so I hoped.

There is literally no frame of reference for these street names.

As the vehicle came to a stop, my eyes flicked over its make and model—a Jensenet S-V8, if I recalled correctly—but such details hardly mattered in the heat of the moment.

Just describe what the car looks like.

The location of Charlton remained fixed in my mind, a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty that plagued me.

That's not a very horse-world name and also gives us no perspective of what the distance is like.

DJ-Pon3: To wrap up the news segment, a group of ponies are rebuilding the bridges of Neigh York, mentioning that nopony thinks about earth ponies.

Swift Road: We're busy reconnecting the bridges to Bronclyn and New Jarsay. We can't do magic, fly, or any other fancy shits we can't do. Not all of us have access to boats or helicopters. We may be strong, but that doesn't mean we can swim half an hour from one island to another.

1) Manehattan is the pony version of New York City, unless you're trying to establish an AU from uh... season one. (Which would still be inconsistent with Fallout: Equestria canon.
2) None of the other locations are canon to the wasteland, as far as I'm aware.
3) 'Swift Road' doesn't make much sense as a name for a pony.
4) How are literally any of these things able to operate on a large scale in the wasteland?
5) Why is literally every radio insert completely irrelevant to everything in the setting?
6) The character of DJ Pon3 doesn't report on subjects like this in Fallout: Equestria's canon.

Swift Road: At this rate, I estimate two months. We'll have to remove the friendship train tracks and use them to create a sea railway. Also, you can get head on the bridges for twenty bottle caps.

The train is called the Friendship Express and it is a proper noun. It also isn't the only train in the show.

I love how every time we meet a pony in this story, we have no idea what they look like or where they are. Glory is just a floating concept in a void with no real mannerisms or anything else.

"If you REALLY want this friendship to keep working, I'm going to need you to do me a favor. If not, I don't want to see you again."

I felt a chill run down my spine at her words. I didn't like the sound of this at all. But faced with the prospect of losing her friendship, I knew my options were limited. What else could I do? I couldn't bear the thought of returning to that empty mansion, spending countless months in complete darkness without anypony to listen to me.

"What-what is it about?" I asked in a low tone, my eyebrow raised in apprehension.

"I need you to be my contract killer," Glory stated matter-of-factly, her words sending a shockwave of disbelief through me. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'd known Glory for a long time, but I never thought she would be capable of asking me for something like this. Could things really have gotten so bad that she was asking me to take somepony's life?

Literally why does anything in this story happen?

I've ended several lives before, but most were in self-defense. But me... being a contract killer? It felt like I was being asked to abandon my principles, to sacrifice my morals for the chance to salvage a friendship that was hanging by a thread.

So, is Somber's story real or not? Is it just fiction? If she's an actress, why and how has she been killed? Also, how does she have any values if she was willing to do literally anything to get here? Where does she draw the line?

---

Chapter six opens with an author's note that reads:

Warning ⚠︎: This chapter contains rape

There is literally a tag for that. Use it.

We're back to following the plight of Stardust Glitter, who is almost right where we left her. For some reason (which isn't explained, of course), the state of unreality in the hospital appears to be no more.

A sudden, chilling sound pierced the silence, causing Stardust's heart to lurch in her chest. "No, not another creature, please!" she pleaded silently, her steps quickening as she hastened towards the clinic in desperate pursuit of the much-needed supplies.

It'd be cool if literally anything in this story was given descriptions that justified things like 'chilling' and whatever else the author wants to be telly about.

With slow, deliberate steps, Stardust moved forward, her ears twitching at every creak and groan of the building. As she peered out into the hallway, her blood ran cold at the sight before her - a grotesque creature, a Hospital Horror, with tentacles writhing from its mouth and sinister red eyes piercing through the darkness.

This shouldn't be a proper noun.

"Fuck! NOOO!" Stardust cried out, her body wracked with terror as the creature's vile appendages violated her, seeking to implant its eggs within her. The sensation was unbearable, her cries of anguish lost amidst the echoes of the clinic.

Her vagina, once untouched, was now subjected to the invasive assault of the Horror's tentacles, sending waves of agony and revulsion coursing through her body.

"NOOOOO PLEASE!" Desperate to escape the creature's grasp, Stardust kicked and struggled, tears streaming down her cheeks as she fought against the invasive assault on her body.

Of course, the poorly described creature that probably isn't even related to the setting rapes her...

...And she still doesn't attempt to use any magic.

But the Horror showed no mercy, its relentless assault driving Stardust to the brink of despair.

Everything, every action, every emotion in this story is described in the most poorly done, beige-ass, cliche-ridden prose that I simply cannot feel that a single scene in this story is written in a remotely satisfactory manner. All of the points that are supposed to be emotional fall flat. This prose needs to be put through boot camp.

Normally, when authors end up writing like this, I'm often inclined to believe that they just don't read -- either ponyfic or in general -- but this person has read stories on the site that aren't just coomer slop. There is genuine stuff in their big ol' favorites shelf that can give someone inspiration on how to tell a good story.

"That was...horrible. That bloody thing...touched me, and I...I nearly peed on meself," she confessed, her words choked with frustration, fear, and shame as she huddled in a corner, her body still shaking from the ordeal.

It isn't a confession if she is alone and speaking only to herself. If she isn't at least addressing an unseen party, it undermines the concept of what a confession is.

Also, this dialogue is absolutely grating to read in what is supposed to be a harrowing and realistic depiction of something as serious as sexual trauma.

"I've got to...try to forget this," Stardust murmured, her gaze falling reluctantly to her private parts. The memory of the Hospital Horror's violation, marked by the repulsive fluids staining her jumpsuit, served as a cruel reminder of the trauma she had endured.

As she sat there, lost in her thoughts, Stardust couldn't shake the feeling of disgust and dread that lingered within her, knowing that this experience would haunt her for a long time to come.

Please. Please research the stuff you're writing about before you publish stuff like this. I'm begging you.

"Why does this shite have to happen to me NOW?" Stardust muttered, her voice heavy with anguish, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "Not only do I hear voices, I'm trapped in bloody space, I fight these disturbing creatures, and now... now I've been raped..."

Gonna ignore the bad quality of the dialogue for a moment -- if she's from a Stable under the equivalent of Baltimore, why is she using Britishisms?

Yeah, I get it, a British author is a possibility, and a lot of people (myself included) often give Equestria at large a sort of general trans-Atlantic culture.

But this is one of the cities specifically inspired by an American location and the ponies that were in her Stable were presumably local to the area... and if she's descended from those ponies, it makes the most sense she'd still retain some of their cultural artifacts instead of one that isn't fitting... and an author should generally take care to emulate that... and, oh, why am I trying to have anything in this story make any fucking sense?

"I can't... I can't tell anypony about this," Stardust whispered, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart heavy with shame and embarrassment. "Nopony should know... I'm sorry, Mum, Dad, Violet... this is so bloody humiliating..."

While reactions to trauma are variable, Stardust has been established as a naive, thin-skinned, and very vocal character. She is quick to complain, quick to cry, and easily frightened or excited. Trauma reactions still have to take into account who has been impacted because they're not defaulted or alien behaviors that just attach themselves to anyone like leeches. They evolve from our own existing behaviors, thoughts, etc.

I'd expect her to maybe hide the information from her parents if she thought they would demand she return to the Stable... but that would require her to acknowledge that she puts visiting a ruined amusement park above all else... and I have no idea why she would do that or how this author would manage to pull off establishing that in a way that is remotely convincing. This story literally has characters wrecking their homes on impulse, committing grand theft auto on impulse, and literally every other action is done on impulse for every character.

With a trembling hoof, Stardust squeezed her eyes shut, the weight of her secrets pressing down on her like a crushing weight.

I'm guilty of having word choices pop up shortly after said word was used, though it's something I try to actively avoid. Shit like that happens to everyone. But this is just... the department of redundancies department. It's a whole different level.

I am in pain.

Alone in her agony, she wished for nothing more than to erase the memory of her ordeal and bury it deep within the recesses of her mind.

Every sentence just feels edgy.

"I'll just sit 'ere for a while before continuin'," Stardust muttered to herself, her hoof pressed against her throbbing head as she sank into a weary stupor.

She literally runs from fucking everything, this is not a believable reaction to her being raped while also knowing that her new friend is dying.

Oh, and we also still haven't solved the problem of what the mysterious acid trip experience was or the ghostly stallion's voice that was talking to her. So, as far as we know, those experiences were absolutely meaningless and the author just thought they were funny, I guess.

"I feel like it's been hours since I last saw the sun," Stardust remarked, her gaze flicking left and right as she surveyed her dim surroundings. The oppressive darkness of the hospital weighed heavily upon her, casting a pall over her senses and fueling her growing sense of unease.

She literally should not be able to see the sun in this setting.

"I 'ope I never lay eyes on those sons of bitches again," Stardust spat out bitterly, her voice laced with a potent mixture of shame and anger as the memories of her traumatic encounter continued to torment her.

Not only is this exposition painfully obvious, but all of the dialogue since the attack sounds out of character for countless reasons. This one in particular just feels like it comes from another character entirely.

As she reached the sixth floor, Stardust's gaze fell upon the familiar 'Noisia Life' logo, its ominous green and black letters looming large on the hallway wall. The sight sent a shiver down her spine, a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked within the desolate corridors of the hospital.

The hospital's name doesn't even sound like it belongs in the setting.

"Whatever's inside, I bloody well 'ope it's not those tossers again," Stardust whispered to herself, her hooves moving unsteadily as she made her way towards the clinic, the sound of her breaths the only thing breaking the eerie silence.

Why does she keep becoming British?

"Every time I look out that window, it's like starin' into the abyss, reckonin' I'll never make it back to Equestria, doomed to rot away 'ere alone," Stardust murmured, her gaze fixed on the window to her left, the vast expanse of space beyond serving as a harsh reminder of her isolation.

"I never thought I'd 'ave thoughts like this... it's all so much to process, and it's only me first day in this blasted wasteland," she continued, her voice heavy with despair as she cast her eyes downward, the weight of her situation bearing down on her like a suffocating blanket.

"Suicidal thoughts, please... just stay the fuck out of me mind," Stardust pleaded, her voice trembling with the effort to maintain her sanity amidst the chaos of her thoughts.

She is literally choosing to stay instead of leave at this point.

Her determination wavered like a flickering flame, her emotions swirling in a turbulent sea of uncertainty and fear. She couldn't help but question the worth of her continued struggle, weighed down by the constant emotional and physical risks she faced with each passing moment. Yet, despite it all, she found herself still clinging to life, a fragile thread of hope in the darkness that threatened to consume her whole.

This type of prose only works if you balance it with realistic descriptions of emotions that have a tangible presence in the form of things such as (but not limited to) body language. So far, this story has just been annoyingly wishy-washy and emotions are always both vague and heavy-handed at the same time, which is insane and frustrating. Abstraction has its place but our author here can't pull it or the basics off.

Tears mingled with the vomit on her cheeks as she fought against the overwhelming sense of shame and humiliation that threatened to engulf her.

You keep telling us she is ashamed and humiliated. Not only does what I said above apply, but at this point, it generally comes across as the writer being a sick fuck.

It was the second time she had emptied her stomach that day, but the feeling of vulnerability and degradation only intensified with each retch.

I don't even remember what she ate before leaving or how much she ate, but I'm not sure if is even possible to vomit up this much, at least in her case. Even though horses irl don't actually vomit, ponies don't appear to be special walking puke bags. They vomit like people and this much vomiting from one character within such a short span of time feels suspicious.

"Seems like I'm doomed to suffer this humiliation over and over," Stardust murmured, her voice thick with shame and self-loathing as she grappled with the aftermath of her second visceral reaction.

"This pain... it's like a fire inside me, consuming me," Stardust continued, her hoof pressing against her chest where her heart beat frantically, a relentless drumming that echoed her inner turmoil.

I hope you hate this dialogue and useless, poor-quality repetition as much as I do. This still literally does not even sound like the same character and more like the author is just looking for a puppet of melodramatic suffering -- when characters suffer, they don't become totally new entities. Behavior that seems out of character can be contextualized and made to work by a skilled author, especially one with keen insight into trauma and related conditions. That's an essential part of writing dynamic characters in general.

The specter of madness loomed ever closer, threatening to engulf Stardust in its suffocating embrace. The image of her own demise, a shotgun pressed against her temple, flickered in her mind's eye, tempting her with the promise of escape.

This is one of the worst and most glaring examples of the bad prose and abuse of abstraction to seem profound which makes me want to bang my head on my keyboard. It also shows that the author was willing to slap the suicide/self-harm tag on this story for just intrusive thoughts (so far) but won't put the rape tag for a full-fledged and entirely explicit rape scene.

"I won't... I won't succumb to that," Stardust declared, her voice trembling with a mixture of defiance and despair. "There are still ponies who love me, and a life that's worth living... I won't throw it all away."

It'd be cool if you actually showed us Stardust thinking about her loved ones and what they mean to her. Hell, this could even be a great time to introduce meaningful flashbacks.

Frustration boiled within her, mingling with the despair that threatened to consume her whole. "Damn it... my own mind has become my enemy," she spat out bitterly, her words echoing in the empty confines of the hospital. "It's toying with me, driving me to the brink of madness."

With each passing moment, Stardust felt herself teetering on the edge of sanity, her grip on reality slipping like sand through her hooves. "I've had enough of driftin' through this empty void," she declared, her voice growing louder with each word. "I refuse to be a pawn in this twisted game any longer!"

The first paragraph made me groan. It just underscores how bad the telly aspect of this story is. Imagine if someone followed you around while you did mundane tasks and narrated the most painfully obvious details about those tasks to the point you wanted to throttle them -- and, to top it off, they narrated things to you, as if you somehow might not know those things.

The second paragraph contains lines of dialogue that might be suspenseful or powerful in another story and in a different situation, but just exudes a sense of cringe and obliviousness here. Not only is this character currently here of her own free will and delaying her chance to leave, but this story is presently absent of the kind of high stakes and overall grand narrative needed for the whole 'game' idea to properly apply. There is absolutely no sense of order or authority in any of the places outside of the Stable, and invoking them just feels entirely inappropriate.

No matter how hard Stardust tried to salvage a glimmer of positivity from the abyss that surrounded her, it remained an elusive dream. Every step she took through the desolate hallways of the clinic served as a grim reminder of the relentless string of misfortunes that had plagued her since she first set hoof within its walls.

With a heavy heart, Stardust moved away from the vomit that stained the floor, a macabre testament to her suffering that she desperately wished to erase from her mind.

The prose of this story makes me feel like I'm perpetually caught in a Groundhog Day situation, and mentally, I'm in the scene where the car is driven off a cliff. That is my wholesome and authentic reading experience.

With a heavy heart, she turned right, her gaze fixed on the hallway adorned with the ominous Noisia Life logo. "I'll suss out this area, see what I can find," she muttered to herself, her determination to escape this hospital and return to Equestria burning fiercely within her.

You know why I quoted this passage here. Don't make me say it.

"What in Tartarus is goin' on? Now even inanimate objects are movin' on their own... it's like I'm trapped in some twisted nightmare," Stardust muttered, her voice tinged with fear and disbelief.

Not only does the character still feel out of character, but uh... I think her perception needs work. And so does the overly cliche prose.

"I suppose I ought to get used to these bizarre occurrences in this bloody hospital," Stardust murmured, her voice heavy with resignation as she let out a weary sigh. "But I can't bloody well tell which ones are gonna hurt me, or if I'm just hallucinatin'... Ahg! It's all so confusin'."

This is totally a good mindset to have in a setting where you are a fish out of water and everything is trying to kill you. I'm sure that nothing bad will be happening because of it.

"Maybe I can lay me 'ooves on somethin' that'll 'elp me get to that other bleedin' hospital made of cubes," Stardust mused, coming to a halt to ponder her next move. "If I manage to get there, maybe I'll be able to scrounge up the bandages I need. I've already turned every ruddy clinic inside out on every floor, but no luck. The mental clinics and substance control, they ain't gonna do me any good, I reckon."

I need a button on the site's toolbar to de-British literally every aspect of this story.

"Bloody annoying noise," Stardust muttered under her breath, her senses on high alert as she scanned the room. She couldn't shake off the unease brought on by the mysterious voices echoing through the hospital.

"Hey, dear, fancy a trip to the amusement park this weekend? We could have a right laugh," came the voice of a young stallion, his tone brimming with excitement.

"Don't call me 'dear,' and I'm not interested in going to the park," replied a young mare voice, tinged with uncertainty.

I know that any other author could have pulled off this transition quite skillfully but everything in this story happens suddenly and with no execution skill and I literally hate everything that happens at this point. I'm genuinely wondering if the author considers it a legitimate writing strategy to make the audience so disgusted that they literally cannot give a fuck to be a remotely viable writing strategy to getting away with whatever the hell they want.

"It's just not the same anymore. For the past month, I've felt... uncomfortable being with you," the female voice explained, her resolve firm.

There isn't a single part of this story that uses genuine mystery, like almost every other Fallout: Equestria story. We don't get to discover anything. There is no joy in uncovering the past. The characters don't have to work at interpretation. We don't explore the characteristics of those who are long gone or ever have to place ourselves in their shoes. Everything is just talking heads with a pinch of gender and telly prose attempts. None of these flashbacks or hallucinations have any reason why they occur nor do they add to the world in any way. In other Fallout: Equestria stories, the characters react to the epistolary parts with the same possible range of emotions that actual sapient beings do when they are exposed to relics of historical events.

As Stardust listened to the tumultuous exchange between the unseen couple, she felt a pang of sadness and empathy for their plight.

"Now I get it, now I see it. You meet some fancy classmate with rich parents, that's the only explanation. Can't figure out why else you'd dump me. I've always been faithful, always had your back," the young stallion's voice dripped with frustration.

"No, it's not like that. When we got together, I felt like I had to say yes," the young mare's voice quivered with regret.

In this story, we don't get to feel the impression that anyone in the past was a living being with a story worth telling. We just get... this.

Stardust wiped away her tears, feeling a pang of sympathy for the stallion's plight. She couldn't interact with voices like he did, but she understood the pain and complexity of relationships.

"I've never experienced love myself, but I hope I never have to endure something like that," Stardust said, dabbing her eyes with her left front hoof.

She has been making out with her friend Violet since they were fillies.

Also, she has no idea whether she can or can't interact with each hallucination (?) or ghostly memory. She hasn't consistently tried. Plus, when she peeks into rooms, we barely get a look at what is inside. All the potential to flesh out history and personal stories, or even place objects for Stardust to find, is tossed into a few sentences without any heart. We always either find nothing or just what the author wants in the most forced way possible. There is never a sense of tension or investigation.

Yet, her troubles didn't end there. As she approached the stairs, Stardust encountered a disturbing sight—a crimson tide of liquid pooling across the floor, blocking her path. The viscous substance seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, forcing Stardust to confront an unsettling decision.

"What in the bloody hell is this?" Stardust recoiled in disgust, her stomach churning at the sight.

"I pray it ain't what I reckon it is," she muttered apprehensively, tentatively dipping her hooves into the pool of red liquid.

"Bugger me, that's ruddy disgusting. Can't believe I'm wadin' through this bloody mess," Stardust grimaced, her concern growing as she weighed her options. If she lingered too long contemplating her next move, the Iron Maiden would undoubtedly close in on her once more.

"Bugger it all, here goes nothin'!" Stardust exclaimed, steeling herself before plunging into the crimson sea.

There shouldn't be active bleeding somewhere that no one has been for over two centuries. Also, the author has no idea how to format dialogue for a single speaker.

This story is going to make me Anglophobic, I swear to God.

"What in blazes is goin' on?" Stardust wondered aloud, her anxiety mounting as she struggled to comprehend the unsettling phenomenon unfolding around her. Desperate to reach the clinic and find the bandages she sought.

As Stardust continued to swim through the confined space of the clinic, her movements were cautious and deliberate, every stroke calculated to avoid any potential hazards lurking beneath the surface of the crimson tide.

"This bloody red liquid makes me skin crawl," Stardust muttered with a shudder of revulsion, her mind recoiling from the grotesque reality of the menstruation-filled ocean she found herself submerged in. The mere thought of its origin sent a shiver down her spine, and she pushed the disturbing notion aside, focusing instead on reaching her destination as swiftly as possible.

Andy here really doesn't understand what talking while you're alone realistically sounds like.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Stardust reached the end of the hallway, her heart pounding with a mixture of relief and dread at what lay ahead.

Every time there is something remotely like a time-lapse or a pause in this story's events, the same cliches are used.

Stardust stood frozen in terror as she beheld the grotesque sight before her: a Fetus Ghoul, its malformed form looming ominously in the cramped confines of the clinic hallway. The creature's rotten, decaying flesh hung loosely from its skeletal frame, its malformed limbs twitching spasmodically as it emitted a low, guttural whine that sent shivers down Stardust's spine.

1) That's not a proper noun.
2) She shouldn't know what it is called.
3) Even in major stories founding the canon of this 'verse, ghouls don't usually actively bleed. Those that do usually have a reason, and this one is producing a disproportionate amount of blood.
4) It wouldn't be big enough to loom.
5) Ghouls have an appearance akin to mummies unless they've been mauled; their flesh doesn't generally hang off. It all depends on the conditions that they're in.
6) Even if this thing could stand upright, it shouldn't be able to be this visible. The remains are literally those of an infant.
7) Because the remains are those of an infant, if the vocal cords are still intact (let alone developed enough), they shouldn't be able to produce a 'low' or 'guttaral' sound.

The stench of decay filled the air, thick and suffocating, as the Fetus Ghoul's malformed hooves scraped against the blood-soaked floor, sending ripples through the crimson tide that surrounded it. Its umbilical cord, twisted and mangled, dangled limply from its bloated abdomen, a grim reminder of the creature's grotesque origins.

Newborn horses (and ponies) have fairy fingers. I've never touched them or seen them up close, so I don't know how long they stay on a regular foal (let alone an undead one) but if they're still on the ghoul, they probably wouldn't be able to walk -- let alone send ripples (due to their size).

Stardust's heart raced with fear as she realized the danger she was facing. Fetus Ghouls were notorious for their savage aggression and monstrous strength, and this one was no exception. With a primal instinct honed by its twisted mutation, the creature lurched forward, its malformed features contorted into a grotesque semblance of hunger as it prepared to launch its attack.

1) Fetuses do not have very developed or pronounced features. Stardust wouldn't be able to see the expression change from a distance and they don't have that complex of expressions.
2) SHE LITERALLY DID NOT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE WASTELAND BEFORE LEAVING THE STABLE. SHE DID NOT BRING FOOD. SHE DID NOT BRING HER OWN MEDICAL SUPPLIES. SHE DID NOT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT COMMON ENEMIES. SHE SHOULD HAVE NO IDEA ABOUT RARER AND MORE POWERFUL GHOULS.
3) THAT IS LITERALLY AN UNDEAD BABY. IT CAN'T DO SHIT. THIS IS LIKE BEING AFRAID OF ROLY POLY BUGS. YEAH, IT'S GROSS, BUT THERE IS LITERALLY NO REASON IT SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO SHIT BEYOND MAKING MEAN NOISES.
4) OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.
5) And... of course, we get a hyperlinked song.

As the Fetus Ghoul closed in on Stardust, its grotesque form cutting through the murky sea of menstruation with eerie grace, Stardust's mind raced with panic.

1) Equines do not menstruate.
2) Even if they did, that is a very different type of blood compared to what this thing is in.
3) Do literally any research.
4) All of this would imply that the parent's corpse is still producing fresh blood. We didn't even see the skeletal remains of a mare in this part of the hospital. In fact, I don't think any distinct remains in general have been noted.

The impact of the Fetus Ghoul's hoof sent Stardust careening into the wall, a sharp jolt of pain shooting through her body as she struggled to regain her bearings.

This is like expecting a teacup dog to be able to topple a full-grown adult-ass human being.

"After dealing with this wretched creature, I must find a means of escape. I can't endure its presence any longer; it fills me with dread," Stardust muttered, her hooves trembling.

The dialogue is so fucking lifeless.

The Fetus Ghoul bore down on Stardust once more, but she deftly evaded its charge, sliding to the side with the aid of her rockets and taking refuge behind a nearby privacy screen.

Seizing the screen with her magic, Stardust shattered it against the wall, creating a multitude of jagged glass shards.

With the Fetus Ghoul momentarily stunned by its failed attack, Stardust seized the opportunity, levitating the shards with her telekinesis and hurling them towards her assailant.

1) HOLY SHIT THE AUTHOR ACTUALLY REMEMBERED THAT SHE IS A UNICORN!
2) Not every sentence is a new paragraph and it is painfully prominent in this chapter.

In a fit of frustration, the Fetus Ghoul pounded the ground, unleashing tremors that reverberated throughout the clinic, causing the surroundings to quake.

This is so bad that it isn't even funny.

The Fetus Ghoul surged towards Stardust with alarming speed, poised to crush her with its colossal hooves.

This made me sigh audibly.

Maybe the author just doesn't know what a fetus is.

Maybe.

I guess I can hope.

"I finally made it... Now I have a way to get out of here," Stardust muttered, relief tinged with exhaustion evident in her voice. But her respite was short-lived as an alarming siren pierced the air.

The shrill sound reverberated throughout the hospital, causing the entire structure to lurch into motion, spinning at a dizzying speed. Stardust clutched her head in agony, the cacophony assaulting her senses and intensifying her headache.

"Now what the fuck is happening?!" Stardust exclaimed, her voice strained with confusion and discomfort. She attempted to cover her ears, seeking refuge from the piercing noise, but her suit hindered her movements, leaving her helpless against the onslaught of sound.

And where is this siren?

Desperation clawed at Stardust's consciousness as she fought to stay upright, her thoughts muddled and disjointed amidst the cacophony. The world spun around her in a dizzying blur, each rotation plunging her deeper into a swirling vortex of torment.

And then, with a final, deafening crescendo, the world faded into darkness as Stardust succumbed to the overwhelming agony, her consciousness slipping away into unconsciousness, consumed by the relentless assault of the siren's wail.

If she passes out here she will literally be killed.

Stardust slowly regained consciousness, her head still throbbing with a lingering ache.

She found herself back in the familiar surroundings of the Baltimare Medical Center Hospital, on the very floor where her harrowing journey had begun.

I want to flip a table.

With a gentle touch, Stardust reached for her Pipbuck, relieved to find that the device had regained its signal and was functioning as usual. Two unread messages awaited her, one from her mother and the other from her best friend.

Scarlet Glitter: My dear, where are you? Why you do not answer my messages? Your father and I are deeply concerned about you, please respond, we want to know where you are and who you have been.

That's not even a complete sentence.

Tears streamed down Stardust's cheeks as she replied, her hooves moving deftly over the Pipbuck's interface. "I'm fine, Mum... I've had a few setbacks. I'm very sorry for not answering you. I'm safe and sound... with a pony named Lollipop. She's helping me get to Sparkle-World safely," Stardust conveyed, her words infused with a mix of relief and sorrow.

Lollipop hasn't agreed to do shit before passing out. At least not from what I remember.

Violet Glow: I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye to you Judith, I was busy, it took me longer than I thought, but now that you're out there in the wasteland, I'd really like you to be careful out there, okay? I will be looking forward to your return to the Stable, things will not be the same for me if you are not here.

Her name isn't Judith.

With her message sent, Stardust finally arrived at the entrance of the house where Lollipop awaited her. She took a deep breath, feeling a renewed sense of determination coursing through her veins. "Don't worry, Lollipop," she whispered to herself, steeling her resolve. "I'll save you."

With a determined stride, Stardust pushed open the door and stepped inside the shelter.

The distance between those two places was actually much larger and here the author acts as though the buildings were right next to each other.
And that's where things end... for now.

---

Onwards to chapter seven, which is called 'Healing Rain' and opens with an author's note saying:

Warning ⚠︎: This chapter contains Watersports

1) Fuck you.
2) There isn't even a fetish tag on this mess.

We're once again following Blackjack -- or, at least this story's version. I have no idea what the actual one is like. She's in her mansion, which she trashed the last time we saw her, and she's bemoaning being a contract killer, though she hasn't done anything yet. And she has been ordered not to tell anyone about it.

This ain't about sex, not even close. I just want Glory back, to have us together again like we used to.

And if that means becoming a contract killer, putting my life on the line, then so be it.

This is the character that was being melodramatic about how she had principles not too long ago. Just remember that.

I let it consume me, the weight of it all bearing down. Now, I'm paying the price. Sure, I've got plenty of caps, but what good is it without companionship? Loneliness is a heavy burden, one I'd rather not carry.

Make some friends.

The bar itself was a dimly lit sanctuary, the soft glow of neon lights casting a hazy aura over the scene. Bottles of all shapes and sizes lined the shelves behind the counter, their labels promising a temporary escape from reality. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke, a heady mixture that only served to deepen my sense of despair

This character whines about what she's supposed to do other than have no impulse control... then proceeds to act out having no impulse control, and acts as if you put a gun to her head and ordered her to do all of these things.

As I swigged from my bottle of Wild Pegasus, the familiar burn of alcohol searing my throat, my thoughts drifted to the red light district. Maybe a little companionship from the ladies of the night could provide some temporary solace, a fleeting escape from the relentless grip of loneliness that clung to me like a shadow.

But as the jukebox filled the air with the haunting melodies of "Friend of the Night" by Mogwai, memories of my mother flooded my mind. She is my rock, my guiding light in a world shrouded in darkness. I remember the stories she used to tell me, tales of her escape from the hellish confines of Stable Ninety-Nine, where stallions were nothing more than tools for breeding, devoid of any semblance of ponymity.

1) This character somehow has less than no impulse control. She is the opposite of sympathetic too.
2) I'm pretty sure that is an actual, 100% irl artist. The setting is supposed to have very different music.
3) I'm not even sure that the author did more than skim the stories in the setting that they're supposed to be using.

But even she may not be enough to keep the demons at bay forever.

The author claims to do a lot of research into language but the best expressions that they can manage are cliches and dead metaphors. They also can't keep any remotely pony elements of speech present. A line like this wouldn't be anything to raise an eyebrow at in another story, especially when 'demon' is a broad fantasy category, but in a story like this, it just serves as one of countless reminders that the author is hypocritical in their actions and their results, even if they do mean what they claim.

"Yeah, that's one of the reasons folks flock here. Marechester was spared the worst of the war's wrath," Aether replied, his tone tinged with a hint of relief. Memories of my foalhood in Hoofington flooded my mind, a city ravaged by radiation and despair. It was a fucked-up place, a cesspool of misery and decay, where danger lurked around every corner. I had been oblivious to the dangers, too naïve to see the devastation that surrounded me. To my mother, I was nothing more than a perpetual headache.

Once again: is she an actor or is she not? Why was this choice even made?

"That's why my brother and I ended up here. We didn't give a damn about being mercenaries. We just wanted a simpler, quieter life. We were sick of the shootings, the deaths, the blood. I'm tired of hearing about that crap every day," Aether said, a hint of anger in his voice. I get where they're coming from. The Pegasus Enclave screwed over Griffonstone so many years ago during the war.

Griffonstone wasn't canon when Kkat's original story was published, and this author hasn't put much effort into world-building in general. He certainly hasn't done much to integrate how later canon was able to work with Kkat's setting.

I mention this because of my habits. I'm a nymphomaniac and an alcoholic. Let's just say it's not easy to maintain healthy friendships with those qualities.

Even if the reader doesn't already know this, this is the worst possible way to convey it.

They're a part of who I am, but if I don't find some kind of balance, I'll probably end up even more alone than I already am.

This is how abusers usually talk. They're also not traits that you can balance. Having a beer now and then isn't comparable to being an alcoholic. This isn't a binary with the two options being 'liver damage' and 'teetotaler' and the same applies to sex addiction. It isn't a choice between addiction and chaste life, and 'being sexually active' isn't comparable to nymphomania.

At one point, I felt some small touches on my back, like hooves. Slowly turning around while still holding the bottle in my mouth, I wondered what was going on. Was this a pony interested in talking to me? I hoped so, and not somepony looking for revenge for the car I stole earlier today. I wasn't up for a fight at the moment.

"What the... you're Blackjack, right? The one from Project Horizons!" she exclaimed. A unicorn mare stood before me, with a bluish-gray coat and a cutie mark of a group of roses and black candies. Her mane was styled with double ponytails on the sides, black with lavender stripes, and her eyes a captivating amber color. Quite pretty, I must say...

"Yeah, that's me... and who are you?" I asked, never having seen her before in my life.

"My name is Candy Rose. I can't believe I'm finally talking to a star like you," Candy said excitedly, bringing her front hoof to her chest. Was I a star? Those days were long gone. Even if she said nice things about me, it wouldn't boost my self-esteem.

1) Of course, we don't even get any internal dialogue about trying to resist slipping into these behaviors immediately after she was thinking about how she could stop them. And this isn't done with a sense of self-awareness by the author to create tension or make a point by the character. It's just bad writing.
2) Throughout the story, we are fed inconsistent information about Blackjack's fame. It always swings between 'she's a star' and how she's a washed-up has been. Which, again, is a false binary. This is one area where the author could use being telly to their advantage.

"I'm glad you think so highly of me. Do you need anything?" I asked, keeping my eyes on Candy as I continued to drink.

"Nein, ich wollte nur etwas trinken, but what I didn't imagine was finding you here," Candy replied. I only caught the word 'Nein' from what she said.

"Could you please speak Equestrian? You must come from Maremany, but here most ponies speak Equestrian," I requested, hoping for clearer communication.

"Es tut mir leid, I've only been in Marechester for a year, so I still have part of my native language," Candy explained. Seems like we might have some communication hurdles. No matter, I'll manage. At least I have a pony to talk to.

1) I sincerely hope that isn't Google Translate German.
2) There are better names for horse Germany in both German and English. I've literally never seen this one before but it's the weakest that I've come across, equal to 'Germpony' which I just thought of (but hope that no one actually uses).
3) We're going to make an assumption based on what little information we have here. We're going to assume that Equestria occupies most of the continent it is on, which was something generally agreed upon even during season one when Kkat wrote her story. Next, we'll be assuming that the zebras' country was on a different continent (within the same hemisphere) or on a different hemisphere entirely (which is what I think was the case in Kkat's story). That would mean that the actual fallout is on a continental level and that all other countries are intact, isolated from the two destroyed nations, and generally only impacted by the problems with the sun and the moon having their gods gone. That means that horse Germany was spared the fate of Equestria and doesn't suffer from the same problems, so with that said, WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU MOVE TO A BOMBED-OUT WASTELAND? WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT? THAT IS EVEN STUPIDER THAN SOMEONE THINKING THAT SOMALIA IS A GREAT VACATION DESTINATION OR THAT SOUTH SUDAN HAVING CHEAP REAL ESTATE IN USD MEANS THAT IT WOULD BE A SWELL PLACE TO RETIRE IN! WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL WOULD ANY REASONABLE CREATURE SEE IN EQUESTRIA? 'AWW GEE, I DON'T WANT TO MISS OUT ON ALL OF THOSE INCREASED CANCER RISKS, MASS POVERTY, GETTING MAULED BY MUTANTS, AND THE DOZENS OF RAPISTS IN ALMOST EVERY NEIGHBORHOOD.' UMM, HELLO?! WHAT?!
4) If this were almost any other author, I would think that maybe she was a descendant of immigrants, but Andy gives her dialogue that rules that out. Plus, the setting has canonical xenophobia increasing massively in the time up to the ruin of Equestria, even if it primarily targeted zebras. That would make speaking the language and following other traditions unlikely, and I know that an experienced author would take note of this. An experienced author could also manage to convince me that Candy's situation is so bizarre and desperate that she was batshit insane enough to move to Equestria's ruins... but this author? Yeah, no.

"That's nicht true, Blackjack... I had keine Ahnung that you were having so many problems in dein Leben, but I know how to solve it. What do you think if we talk, while wir drink und get drunk together?" Candy suggested. Her comforting words lifted my spirits a little. I decided to change my plans and spend the rest of the night with Candy. I hoped I wouldn't reveal my worst side, driving her away and leaving me alone again.

There seriously better be translations in the author's notes or...

Wait.

Andy used the author's notes to tell us that there would be nasty shit in this chapter. Unless he hyperlinked a blog with translations somewhere, there is literally going to be nothing to remedy how hard it is to understand all of the foreign characters.

Fucking hell.

I don't even know how kosher this is with the site's rules because all the stories I've read with multiple languages present weren't like this.

Although my situation with Glory has a dubious status, since now I am her contract killer. I still love her as a friend. I would like us to be a couple again, but I doubt that she wants to be a couple with somepony as stupid as me, and also with a nymphomaniac.

Wow, as if I could forget.

"Well, Blackjack, if I'm being ganz honest with you, I never fancied that side of you much. Aber, the good thing is that you accepted your mistake, und ich weiß, you have a good heart," Candy remarked, her words stinging a bit, but hell, truth ain't always a smooth pill to swallow, ain't it?

How does the author choose which words to leave in German and which ones to leave in English?

Candy's the only one who's sticking by me now, so I gotta start treating her like more than just a fan. She's my friend, plain and simple.

You just met her.

"Well, you hit the nail on the head when you mentioned I hail from Maremany. Born and bred there. In my tongue, we call Maremany Stuteland. And back in those days, I used to binge-watch a ton of Project Horizons. Very entertaining, I gotta admit," Candy explained, grabbing her bottle of vodka, a true enthusiast if ever there was one.

...And she moved to a wasteland.

Feeling a bit... frisky around her, but I gotta rein in them urges. Can't go jumping the gun on anything, gotta let her take the lead. Fucking nymphomania acting up again...

"Candy, what do you say we get good and drunk, and you crash at my mansion? I live nearby, and I reckon it ain't safe for you to be driving in that state," I suggested to Candy.

"Really? Ich würde gerne! I can't stay too late, maybe I can just spend the night at your mansion," Candy said excitedly, quickly taking a swig from her bottle of vodka. Seems like we got ourselves one thing in common: our love for the drink.

I don't think that people with sex addictions have this kind of unnatural internal dialogue, bro.

"We're gonna fuck right here, in front of everypony," I declared, clumsily dropping my bottle onto the counter. I was so fucking wasted that I couldn't even control my magic properly.

"You like being treated like a whore, huh!? Can tell by how fucking soaked your pussy is, Miststück," Candy slurred, struggling to keep her balance in her chair.

Do not.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud, Aether. If you're up for it, you can join in. Always wondered what it'd be like to fuck a griffon," Candy chimed in, finishing her sentence with a small belch.

"Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. Come back another day," Aether said firmly, hoisting us both up and making his way towards the exit with surprising strength, setting us down carefully on the ground outside.

I'm pretty sure that this constitutes sexual harassment.

It's not hard to see why ponies don't really have pro-social values anymore.

I was so fucking plastered that I could barely make sense of what was happening around me. Glancing to my left, I saw my mansion just across the street.

There isn't a single location in this story that has a realistic proximity.

Clamping my front hooves over my mouth, I forced down the vomit churning in my gut. Shit, if I puked, Candy'd probably never wanna touch me. Guess downing twelve bottles in record time wasn't exactly the smartest move.

Glancing back, I saw Candy, her head bouncing off light poles. "RED PHONE BOOTH, EVERYWHERE!" she hollered before crashing right into a phone booth.

Not only is this disgusting, I don't understand how the author can think that this is consensual sex, given the state of the characters.

"There's my car, goes beep beep!" Candy exclaimed, making a car horn sound with her mouth. Did she just pull that off?

"Quit talking bullshit and just follow me, ahahaha!" I chuckled, leading the way across the street. Candy was spouting off all sorts of nonsense that only had me laughing harder.

Didn't even bother glancing at the traffic light as I crossed. Everything looked warped and distorted, and I couldn't hear the sound of any engines, so figured it'd be safe enough to go for it.

This feels even more rape-y with each passing second.

Reaching the door of my mansion, I swung it open with my magic and glanced back. Candy was sprawled out on the ground.

"Ich glaube, ich brauche Hilfe... Help me, bitch. I'll never make it to this fucking place," Candy groaned, her face pressed into the floor.

"You're a mess, Candy. Can't even go three seconds without taking a spill? Fucking slut," I shot back at her, the words spilling out without a filter. Alcohol had taken hold of our brains, so it sure as hell wasn't us speaking right then.

Feeling a bit more sober than her, I used my magic to grab her by the tail and levitate her to the entrance of my mansion. Setting her down on the couch as gently as I could, I closed the door and made my way over to her.

Do not.

...yeah, since the author not only has them fucking right on the floor as soon as they get in, and he said he was putting gross shit in here, I'm not going to bother going through this scene. I don't want to throw up or get close to that point, thanks.

Anyway, disgusting content is disgusting, we resume here...

I lay there beside Candy, my mind drifting into the depths of my thoughts. The words lingered on my lips, heavy with the weight of my emotions. "I hope we're together forever," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper in the quiet of the room.

The thought of being alone again, it scared me more than anything else. It's a feeling that's been gnawing at me for months now, like a cancer eating away at my soul. There've been moments when I've thought about ending it all, about taking that final step into the void. But something always held me back – the memory of my mother, Gin Rummy, and what she'd think if I went through with it.

But with Candy by my side, it feels like everythin's changed. Like there's finally a light at the end of the tunnel, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. I don't need to tear myself apart anymore, don't need to drown in the depths of my own despair. With her, I'm not alone – not now, not ever.

Never...

The chapter ends here after Blackjack drunkenly fucks an even drunker pony on her floor in the most creepy way possible.

And now she's fixated on this.

Extremely haram.

---

The next chapter has Morning Glory as the narrator. Yes, for some reason, Stardust Glitter is the only character who has a third-person narrative. I genuinely don't even know if this has a storyline at all or if the author is just throwing whatever at the wall to see what will stick and picking the next narrator from a list on a whim.

That was yours truly, Morning Glory. Twenty-one and counting, I ditched Thunderhead and Hoofington ages ago for a shot at a better life here in Marechester.

She's only twenty-one, or is this some odd slang that I don't know, and the author just decided to throw it in here?

Assholes, one day I'm coming back to Hoofington, gonna settle scores with you three: Dusk, Moon Shadow, and 'my father.' Guess I should just call him Sky, he sure as hell don't deserve the title 'father.'

And why is that? Is that just going to be left there?

I'm worth more than that, and mark my words, I'm gonna prove it, you'll see.

I'm not sure if this is a fumble with perspective and she's actually addressing the reader.

I ain't scared of taking a bullet or a beating, don't give a shit about that. I know I can handle it. No pain compares to being remembered as some whore, the sidekick of a suicidal idiot, chasing after fame and its decadence from grace.

The last part of that sentence doesn't parse no matter how many times I read it.

On one hoof, I feel a tad guilty about using Blackjack to rid myself of those assholes who've been causing me grief, but I reckon it's only fair, considering all the crap I've been through on account of her.

So far, she keeps saying the prospective targets are 'assholes' and never expanding upon that. I can't tell if it is the writer keeping their cards close to their chest or if it is another problem with this story being a general mess.

I took advantage of her vulnerabilities to get her to do me these favors... and it makes me feel like some sorta manipulator.

You don't say.

I never figured I'd stoop to such lows in my life, pulling the same moves ponies have pulled on me. Is it the right thing to do? I ain't got a clue.

How is she worried about that but not the fact that she wants others dead?

But with all the problems in my life, it's impossible not to push boundaries I'd normally never even consider to achieve my goals. If I off Sky, the whole Thunderhead enclave's gonna be breathing down my neck.

Assuming she's talking about the Grand Pegasus Enclave, that should be capitalized because it's a proper noun. Also, if she is, then I don't know why she's calling it the "Thunderhead Enclave" because there is only one Enclave in the setting. Unless this is something exclusive to Project Horizons.

I feel for her, I really do. She's been on the run for most of her life, ever since they found out what they could do with her immortality. She had to split from us temporarily to keep us safe.

So Andy here is just going to drop that a character is somehow immortal as a one-off line? Wonderful.

At some point, those enclave bastards are gonna sniff out where I'm hiding. So, I can't say I'm sitting pretty. Before I off Sky and my sisters, I gotta be ready. I gotta have my own crew to help me deal with this shitshow.

And why does she want to kill her sisters?

Why does anyone in this story want to do anything?

I got some new buddies I met here in Marechester, Comet Star and Linus. They're solid, always ready to lend a hoof when needed.

Comet Star's name is hyperlinked to character art. So, if we ignore that these characters don't have any real personality or qualities to their mentions thus far, there is something worth mentioning about this art. It doesn't look like it was commissioned. At the very least, this was a free-to-use base that the author decided to edit. However, if you look at it and how the parts are drawn on or cut and pasted from different pictures without proper editing, it's possible that this isn't a free-to-use base that is the author's first try at character art. Given the author has stolen art before, I can't rule out that this is the case.

Also, I would like to point out that the cutie marks of all characters -- when they're mentioned at all -- have nothing to do with the skills or other attributes of the characters. The same applies to the name of every single character in this story that Andy has created.

Linus, though, he's a bit hard to understand with that thick accent of his. He's always saying "An ting" and calling me "Rasta" for some reason. Beats me what it means, but it don't matter much. Even if his Equestrian ain't the best, he's still a good mate, and I know I can rely on him.

Zebras being Rastas is something that I haven't seen before, but like the presence of Candy, this raises more questions. I'm not sure if the author realizes that Rastafarianism is a religion -- specifically an Abrahamic one and that it is heavily Afrocentric. If we temporarily put aside the fact that it literally split off from Christianity makes no sense in this setting, the idea of Afrocentrism would most likely translate into being zebra-centric... which should have this character being socially maligned, especially in the Wastelands where friendship and virtue-related magic in general is hard to come by and something ponies don't care about anymore. The entire Fallout: Equestria setting exists because of a fucking race war that isn't too dissimilar from the basic tenets of the Manson Family's Helter Skelter doomsday scenario (which I think is hilarious).

Worldbuild with care.

My mom's over in Spanningfields, about fifteen minutes from here. You could fly there, but it's a real wing-tirer. Sometimes it's easier to just take the car, not that I'm in any hurry to visit her.

How is that tiring? She is literally a pegasus.

Great Ponytain's been a real blessing for us, nestled up here in the north of the Celestial Seas. You could say this side of Equestria's about as safe as it gets.

Equestria is its own country. Is this supposed to be a distinct region? A province? Shire? State? How does literally anything in this setting work?

Ended up settling here in Charlton, the lower-class part of town.

Too many human names like this pop up.

It was night, and I'd just wrapped up another contract, finally getting paid in bottle caps. The last episode was a pain in the ass to record, but I didn't give a damn about the rest of it. It was all about the caps and hanging out with Rampage.

This entire scene is in bold for no clear reason.

What good memories. I should visit them more often, maybe next week. Right now, I can't.

Wasn't she just having a normal flashback? Y'know, something that you don't have to physically 'visit' like that. They just happen.

I flew towards the door and saw Comet's 1994 Marcedaz Banz E500, black. I'd recognize that car from a distance. I opened the door and flew a few kilometers forward.

That is literally using a human year system.

"Hey, Morning, que pasa?" Comet Star greeted me as he got out of the car.

"Wah gwaan, rasta?" Linus said, emerging several seconds after Comet.

The audience has no way of knowing what these characters look like, how they move, or sound. I'm also going to bet that most of the audience has no idea what either of these means.

"Same, Morning. We have a surprise for you. It'll be useful for what we're going to do. We're taking down a gang that stole some weapons from Linus," Comet said, heading to the trunk of his car and opening it.

I flew closer to Comet, feeling worried about what he said. "How did it happen? Who were they?" I asked.

Why are they talking about doing crime in a public place? Why are they visibly prepared to commit crimes in a public place?

"I was sellin' my weapons on di corner an' ting. Den, several cars roll up an' dem was packed wid too many boys an' ting. Dem hit me. Mi couldn't do nuttin' against dem. Dem was too much. Dem take mi weapons an' never pay me. Mi want mi weapons back! Ya know?" Linus explained, gesturing with his hooves vigorously.

1) This is probably the most detailed body language in the whole story.
2) Eye dialect is easy to fuck up and this feels like a prime example of that.

I remained silent for a few minutes, trying to decipher Linus's words. It seemed like he was talking about some sort of attack involving weapons and a group of assailants.

Comet, noticing my puzzled expression, stepped in to clarify. "What Linus is getting at is that he got jumped while peddling his goods. The Rogues. They not only jack stuff to flip it for a profit, but they also got a real beef with zebras," Comet elaborated, gesturing with his hoof towards me.

Too much is redundant here.

"Alright, rasta, but nuh fly too high, seen?" Linus said slowly, trotting towards me.

As an author, you literally have the option of using the reactions of other characters to help clarify characters like Linus and the ability to use the author's notes to provide information about how he speaks.

Linus slowly extended his hoof towards mine, avoiding making eye contact with me. He seemed embarrassed, likely remembering the day I slept with him.

Is everything important just going to be revealed in one-off sentences that never get brought up again?

"Alright, chavales, get ready," Comet said, getting into his car and turning it on.

The same issue with explaining what the characters are saying applies here too.

"Yo, yo, yo! Yu tink we goin' too high, rude gyal?" Linus blurted out, his voice tinged with urgency.

What is the line between diverse eye dialect that immerses the reader and offensive caricature? This story makes me wonder if that line has been crossed.

"I have to go at this height so you don't hit objects like traffic lights," I assured him, gathering and spreading his hooves again and again.

Yes, because working urban infrastructure would exist in a literal wasteland after two hundred years with no one to maintain it.

"I s'pose you caught it on EMT, innit? That telly channel that dishes out music vids. Only the bleedin' lucky ones get to watch it; snaggin' a telly ain't no cheap task," the mare observed, examining herself in a mirror held with her wings.

My brain is rotting the more British these characters get.

"Sex," both mares chimed in simultaneously. I couldn't help but laugh at their conversation. Sex has become the number one means of pleasure in all of Great Ponytania, much like Hoofington.

Yeah, this totally points to a place being stable and worth living in. The author has a really solid grasp of economics here.

As we continued through the neighborhood, we came across a mother sitting on a bench with her foal, who was engrossed in playing with an RC car. They were conversing in a foreign tongue, a common sight in Marechester. For these ponies, mastering Equestrian was a necessity; without it, they'd struggle to communicate with others in this city.

"Mamma, guarda, va così la mia macchinina, brr brr!" exclaimed the colt excitedly, steering the RC car around with enthusiasm, occasionally crashing it into nearby walls. But his joy was undeterred by the mishaps; all he wanted was to revel in the moment.

"Stai attento con quella macchinina, potresti ferire qualcuno. E non voglio nemmeno che tu la usi vicino alla strada, è pericoloso" the foal's mother cautioned with a worried tone, releasing a weary sigh. Motherhood, it seemed, was far from the idyllic image often portrayed.

The characters have so little to say about anything in this story that sounds genuinely personal or worthwhile and it makes me wonder why any parts of this story are told in first person at all. Also, why would immigrants be migrating here?

I don't think I've ever seen a story with this much no-context non-English dialogue on the site. Seriously, writing a story where multiple languages have to be integrated isn't easy, but that doesn't mean that doing it poorly somehow makes you rank above writers who only write in English. It does the exact opposite.

"Don' worry, rude gyal, mi armor mek me invisible fi a likkle bit, mi can drop some a dem bloodclots an' tek dem weapons to defend meself," Linus explained, retrieving a combat knife from his lengthy mane, which cascaded down his back and covered half of his left eye.

"Linus takes the fight against Babylon very seriously, even if he uses a pencil while the others use swords," Comet said, reloading his two Uzis.

Most stories in this setting actually bother to explain how the characters can handle guns and only adapt a limited amount of guns into the setting.

This author just slaps anything in here. The reference to swords feels out of place too -- even if it is just a figure of speech, it doesn't feel like it should have survived in every speech variant in the wasteland. Most bladed weapons in the setting are heavily improvised and there isn't really any representation of trades like blacksmithing any longer, even though swords would have been a staple prior to the megaspells.

Also, in the dialect of Rastas, 'Babylon' is more than just a reference to make or a cute nickname, there are actual religious implications there and it is so distinctly Abrahamic that it feels as out of place as the characters in the pony world talking about going to church.

I was rubbing my front hoof with the other out of embarrassment because I didn't really understand what Linus said. "We have to cover ourselves with cars and walls, I got that part, but the rest of it, what did you say?" I asked.

How are they friends if they can barely understand one another? How haven't they worked out some form of understanding to serve as a middle ground between their cultures and ways of speaking?

A group sat inside a Velkswagen Karmann-Ghia 1600 L, tuning in to the beloved Moving Darkness radio, a popular Drum & Bass station in Great Ponytania.

Thanks to the author, for continuing to assume that we live inside of his head and never need anything described under any circumstances ever. Being able to recognize every type of gun, car, and whatever else by name is totally a sensible universal character trait to have for every member of the cast.

"It's that damn zebra cocksucker! Kill 'em all, and that whore with 'em too!" one of the Rogues barked from behind cover, his voice dripping with frustration and malice.

Zebra Culture Music

What the hell did he just call me? Did he call me a whore? I'll smash his fucking head!

I love how these characters are all unhinged, bloodthirsty freaks the instant things turn ugly or they get insulted. So far, characters have gotten angrier over being called names than they have been when hearing something happened to their friends or something like that. And no, this isn't done as a way to purposefully characterize them. All of the characters have these universally skewed emotions. In a good story, where characters have distinct tempers, I would expect different things to trigger different emotions and emotional intensity in different characters. Here, that's not the case. The kind of insults that would be kiddy fare in a Call of Duty lobbby make characters here homicidal.

Oh, and we have another out-of-place hyperlink.

As I landed, the ground quivered under the weight of my armor, causing him to stagger slightly. Before he could aim his gun at me, I thrust my right hoof forward with all my strength. It pierced through his ribs, shattering bone and tearing flesh as it plunged into his chest cavity. He let out a bloodcurdling scream, tears streaming down his face as agony gripped him.

With a determined grip, I seized his heart from around the aorta, yanking it forcefully from his body. Blood gushed forth, drenching me in crimson spray, but I paid it no mind.

This is mildly rude.

(Also, why does she need a contract killer when she can do this? What are the logistics to that, huh?)

His lifeless form crumpled to the ground, leaving behind a spreading pool of scarlet. In my hoof, I held his still-beating heart, squeezing it like a ripe tomato until it burst, splattering gore in all directions.

Shouldn't they try to not leave evidence? Am I crazy for thinking that if you're going to do what amounts to a professional hit on someone, then you probably shouldn't be too focused on popping their organs? Or is that just me?

The stench of the street was bound to worsen, and unfortunately, somepony else would have to clean up our mess.

Why would anyone clean these up without reporting anything? To... whatever weirdly intact element of law enforcement the author probably has existing?

Curiosity gnawed at me as I approached, picking up a piece of paper marked 'Missing' in red. What could be missing? Further investigation revealed more papers, each bearing the image of a missing foal. It was a disturbing sight, one that raised more questions than answers.

I'm sure that they're just hobbyists.

I flew to the Velkswagen. I would've liked to stay and admire its beauty, but with corpses about to rot nearby, I got into the car immediately. Luckily, the keys were inside, so I didn't have to search for them.

Rotting takes time to happen.

And now onto the comments, since this chapter actually has them.

---

We have a chonker of a comment from User #5 that I'd like to highlight excerpts of.

First of all this feels like someone took two completely different stories and smashed them together.

Don't they just?

Then she enters the hospital and we're suddenly in Silent Hill, rape scene included. We also have pony versions of the Iron Maiden from Resident Evil, which is a pretty cool idea.

...Okay, so both of these franchises are ones that I have no experience with. I have no idea how how much of Silent Hill was used, but given this author's track record, I'm going to say that they went with the 'creative' direction of ripping off the franchise instead of simply taking inspiration. Remember, there is no series tag for this story other than 'Fallout' and there is absolutely no crossover tag whatsoever.

But the thing is, they aren't cool ideas. There isn't any reason for these things to exist. The writer has no idea how to use the setting that they're allegedly trying to integrate their story into. They use characters that they don't appear to understand without the permission of their creators. This isn't marketed as a mega-crossover or anything of the sort. It's just a mess from every level -- characters, setting, prose, and more. If I hadn't seen the bookshelves of the writer, I would have thought that they were completely unfamiliar with the stories that they were working with. At no point do they feel familiar with them, or even MLP itself.

However, there are some serious flaws, too. The main character's motivation seems pretty weak. Why does she wants to leave the safety of her Stable and travel through the dangerous Wasteland to Sparkle World? Because she has always been obsessed with the place since her childhood?

This also warrants attention. The character's love of Sparkle World isn't even convincingly established in the earliest chapters of the story. Now, I'm supposed to believe that as an adult she is both willing -- and allowed -- to risk her life to see this park? Why? This doesn't even seem like it should warrant multiple story arcs unless it became replaced as her goal, much like how Littlepip's goal to find a pony who left the Stable is replaced with helping the wastelands at large. This character doesn't even have any minor goals along the way; there isn't any indication that there will be a subplot or that she is even going to meet up with the other characters that we've been seeing so far. How am I supposed to leave that these multiple stories relate in any way? Or that they'll come to fruition? So far, I can't find one other reader who has honestly expressed that they believe the author is even attempting to do anything of the sort.

This is not a funny little field trip. It's a dangerous journey throughout the Wasteland. So it would make more sense for Stardust to either pull a Littlepip and leave the Stable against the orders of the Overmare or to give her a stronger motivation to go on her journey.

So far, this user's comments are better than literally anything in the story. And honestly? I'm not even sure if this counts as a story. At best, it is vaguely resembling an anthology, though it appears directionless and without any overall similarity except an ill-defined mashup setting.

Then we have the monster descriptions. Don't tell the readers that a Centaur is a Centaur and an Iron Maiden is an Iron Maiden. Stardust doesn't know that. Just give use a description of the creature and if you have to reveal it's name, have a character like Lollipop tell her how the creatures is called (in case of the Centaur) or have Stardust stumble upon some notes about the creature (in case of the Iron Maiden).

Finally, someone who gets it.

Also please put some trigger warnings before chapters with explicit scenes. Especially if it contains rape or fetishes (like water sport) than aren't everyone's cup of tea. "If you have read other FE fanfics, you will know what I mean." is really, really vague. Especially since there's a wide variate of stories with different levels of violence and sex.

Wait, somehow the author was previously even worse and more deceptive about the contents?

Now calling PH an action-comedy is as accurate as calling Games of Thrones a romantic comedy.

That's a nice way to put it. I seriously don't understand how the writer thought they could make that work. Even the most prominent satire of Kkat's stories, Duck and Cover, manages to weave in horror. (Whether the sequel to Duck and Cover counts as direct satire is up for debate; the author doesn't appear to consider it as such.)

Of course this also begs the question why any studio would make a radio show about the made-up adventures of a bunch of randos from the Wasteland. That seems as likely as me going to a movie studio and tell them to make a movie about me and my friends being super spies and them actually agreeing.

I honestly hadn't even considered this point, and it is absolutely equal to how weak Stardust Glitter's motive is.

Overall this part of the story also feel like we suddenly walked into a different setting. Blackjack and Glory live in a city with bars, cars and movie(?) studios. They even have tourist from other countries. There's nothing in the story that makes it feel like it takes place even remotely in the same universe as Stardust's adventure. Glory's chapter amplifies that feeling even more because her helping Little Jacob Rastafarian Zebra taking out a rival gang feels like a GTA mission.

Remember how I said that I wasn't familiar with Somber's story? Well, this reader clearly is. And boy, am I glad for it. They manage to clarify beyond any doubt that Somber's story doesn't have things like cars, entertainment industries, or supposedly untouched cities.

I also haven't ever played any of GTA's games -- my exposure to GTA is through secondhand means like YouTube and watching friends and family play it. Due to this, I'm not going to say I agree with it because of how uninformed that agreement will be. I'd like to see how the writer responds to this comparison since it could shed some light on the truth behind this.

And speaking of Glory: That's not Glory. Her hating Blackjack with a deep burning passion because of Blackjack screwing up is believable and an interesting development. But the rest? She hates her family, except her mom, because her family wants her death which is a stark contrast to how they are portrayed in PH. She doesn't has any medical skills or wants to help others. She's actually into stallions. She gaslights Blackjack – who in this story has none of the combat skills of the original Blackjack, which makes this a bad idea – into murdering ponies she don't like. To put it bluntly: The only thing this character has in common with Glory is her name, color pattern and that she was once friends with Blackjack.

Lordy, there is a lot that I'm thankful for in this paragraph alone. Let's dig into it:

1) In-story, the character of Glory apparently wants her mom and sisters dead. According to this same story, there is one sister who is confirmed to be a minor. So, we have a character who canonically would do nothing to brutalize her family now wanting to facilitate a family annhilation. This, of course, happens without anything to explain why or establish the difference. It also creates further confusion: if Glory is an actress, why is her name still Morning Glory, why are her relatives also playing themselves, and how is it that these events are both real and fictional?
2) Her skills, motives, and character role (in relation to her group) are all completely erased.
3) She is canonically a lesbian. If a character has a canonical sexual orientation, it takes effort to establish why they aren't like that any longer. In Kkat's story, Littlepip is canonically a lesbian. If you want me to read a story where she's portrayed as something else -- like bisexual -- actually put effort into showing why things are different. Or, at least totally make your works clear as an alternate universe. The same would go for breaking up canon characters -- like Cadance and Shining Armor, or Lyra and Bonbon. These aren't simply headcanons; they're canonical information within their respective universes, and in the case of fan projects, it involves a much more individual creator (since many characters in the show were the product of multiple peoples' work). This would be like if someone wrote a fanfic of my personal story 'verse and decided to erase something foundational to the universe, such as a character's sexual orientation. Doing something like this can range from being simply rude (knowingly or not) or intentionally bigoted. Don't be a dick.
4) In general, wanting to write a portrayal of a character that radically goes against what they are in canon needs some kind of justification. Whether it's writing a sunshine-and-rainbows Tirek or a tyrannical hero character (Twilight Sparkle, Celestia, etc.) just put in the work to make it so that your story can pull these off. I'm not going to treat the mere concept as though it is somehow inherently bad. Good writing is worth commending, and interesting ideas and theories are worth exploring.

Now Blackjack, on the other hand, still feels like Blackjack. There's the familiar misery, self-loathing and alcohol abuse. Not much to complain about her. And she' comes across as far more sympathetic than Glory.

Since I'm not familiar with Blackjack, I think that this is worth putting here for those of y'all who are, even though I don't like what I'm seeing in Andy's story. While the character that I'm reading here obviously has a sex addiction, substance abuse issues, and emotional problems, she also comes across as distinctly wimpy and desperate to the point of having no real morals or substance in general.

The rest of the crew is notably absent. Rampage only makes a short cameo appearance and has no lines, despite being a childhood friend of Blackjack and Glory. The others are only mentioned as having moved on to other things with the implication that they are actors. Which is a a shame. Would've been interesting to see this story's take on P-21 (Why would he even have that name in this story?), Scotch, Boo and Lacunae.

I feel like this speaks for itself.

Now, we have Andy's reply:

I don't have editors or proofreaders, so this whole process becomes even more complicated.

This is painfully obvious, but there is nothing to stop Andy from getting some.

I understand that Stardust's motivation is not the best, but I wanted to start "Family Friendly" by having a simple dream of going to Sparkle World and for the story to become darker as the chapters progressed, then ideas and more began to occur to me. ideas, such as creating realistic and complex versions of other FOE characters such as Blackjack and Morning Glory,

I think the author confuses being 'family friendly' with the character being... uh, just plain stupid. Here are the initial motives of some of the non-satire major Fallout: Equestria story that I've read:

Littlepip: finding a missing pony.
Puppysmiles: finding her mom.
Murky: finding freedom from slavery.

...Care to tell me why these aren't 'family friendly' according to whatever definition the author is using?

The radio shows try to imitate the dark humor of GTA where I satirize social and political issues (based on those of my country and not USA specifically). It was a creative idea so that my story wouldn't be too dark.

I don't have the words right now to say just how angry this makes me, or how disgusted I am to find someone who has literally no understanding of what satire is.

My story handles many protagonists, it does not focus solely on 1, there are 10 protagonists and I have to create arcs with each of them, that is why I cannot focus on just one.

One of my top favorite stories on the site has a main cast roughly equal in number to this. The Night is Passing follows the Mane Six, the Royal Sisters, and Spike -- with more characters, to boot. Having a large cast isn't anything new, and it's possible to devote roughly equal portions of time to each one. However, that story handles it phenomenally and manages to tell a coherent epic. So can other stories on the site that use larger main casts.

This story isn't anything like that. It barely qualifies a story as it is. This is at best, an anthology, as I said. I am currently over 50k words into this story and there isn't even a hint that these characters will interact. This isn't even the author's 1st story, it's Andy's 14th, which is why I'm arguably fairly harsh on it. If this was an entirely new author, this blog wouldn't exist. Instead, he'd have just gotten a long comment and links to some writing resources.

This isn't even the author's first story above 10k either.

Andy, as an author, genuinely needs to start reading stories that use elements that he envisions wanting to replicate, take notes, and start practicing.

It is also to add variety so that the story does not feel very similar to others, one day the moment will come when all the protagonists know each other, the story is in a very early phase.

If this story resembled other stories in the setting, that would be a genuine improvement compared to whatever it is that I'm reading.

PH is considered an action comedy, because PH can be repetitive and resort to shock value so much, subtracting the impact of the scenes and sometimes coherence to history (such as chapter 33 - 34, which motivated me to stop reading PH, by that I could no longer take it seriously and I could only enjoy it if I read it with the perspective that it is a satire to post-apocalyptic movies and not a serious story)

...

OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.

THAT DOESN'T MAKE SOMETHING AN ACTION COMEDY.

GENRE ISN'T DETERMINED BY YOUR REACTION TO THE STORY.

I wanted to avoid making the same PH mistakes, here I simply make little criticisms towards the original story, but I understand that there are people that like PH despite its flaws.

...if you didn't finish reading the story, how do you truly understand what mistakes it made? Where is the criticism? Nothing in this story has been critiqued.

I know sometimes it feels like a GTA but remember I'm just trying to be original, plus it was fun learning Patois and creating Linus, all the zebras in this story have a Patois and an African accent, it's also to add realism to my story.

...

'African accent.'

THERE ARE OVER FIFTY COUNTRIES IN AFRICA.

Do you think that even one African country has a single, uniform accent?

Even people in the African diaspora do not have a uniform accent! Hell, even African Americans don't have one singular dialect or accent! There isn't an 'African accent' any more than there is a 'European accent' or an 'Asian accent' holy shit.

Rasta is also from Jamacia and primarily reflects influence from that Caribean island. That is very far away from Africa!

I didn't add warnings, because at first I added those scenes for "shock value" (But now they have a impact in the story) to see if people would react and comment, I know it was a dirty move, but when I can I will add warnings, now that I know there are people reading this, I could be more considerate.

At that time, I was frustrated that no one commented before I planned to write that chapter. I thought that people wanted more gore, violence, and dark moments like that, but I also tried to show the emotional consequences for the characters, in this case, like the mental breakdown of Stardust.

So... having no comments whatsoever led you to make substantial changes to your story and assume how you should handle your content?

Just... ugh.

A lack of something means nothing. Even downvotes aren't helpful without comments. Never jump to conclusions, especially in writing.

I understand why you think that; I think it hadn't been mentioned yet, but not all cities in Equestria were bombed; some are more habitable than others, and in those cities entertainment things are produced, such as radio shows, TV shows, and other goods.
The Stardust and Lollipop sides retain the typical essence of "exploring the wasteland," while the Morning Glory and BJ sides are more action-oriented and show life in livable cities.

This literally makes no sense.

At least I'm glad that for now, there are no contradictions or inconsistencies in the plot, that has me a little worried, mainly because of my condition, I tend to forget many things, I even forget the names of my characters and I have to read the chapters again to remember.

1) That is literally all the plot is at this point.
2) Take notes. If you are writing a long-form story, you should have notes by default.

---

The next chapter is just a lore interlude. It is written like an in-universe piece of nonfiction of some kind. However, it's not very coherent, nor is the science very clear. The piece looks like it should be mimicking a scientific explanation of some sort, but it doesn't actually mimic it well or have what such an article would actually explain. It refers to the planet as 'Earth' even though it isn't called that (it has no canonical name). The basic questions about how this impacts the setting aren't really hinted at. Plus, this isn't even something that has shown up in the setting. That would be fine if I could expect it to be foreshadowed, but given who the author is, I don't think that's very likely.

Only two comments are present here. One is from User #5:

And there are rumors that these cosmic rays can give you new fetishes. Random fetishes to be specific because there doesn't seem to be any relation between the ones listed. Since there already has been a sex scene involving water sports and urophilia being among the fetishes listed, I worry that the rumors are true. Because comsic rays that give you random fetishes sound really stupid.

Yeah. Cosmic rays that give you random fetishes.

Because reasons.

Andy replied with... whatever you want to make of this:

It's a complex topic. The Moonshadow Resonance is basically a pony version of the "Schumann Resonance." Not only was it a matter of taking this concept and translating it into my story, I had to find a way to fit it with MLP. Now, the Schumann resonances are electromagnetic vibrations that occur in the cavity formed between the surface of the Earth and the ionosphere at a frequency of 7.83 Hz (basically the same as the Moonshadow Resonance). Some scientists say that this frequency can influence human behavior and that there is a connection between the human brain rhythm and this frequency.

This frequency cannot be altered because it is said that it could have negative effects on us. Of course, in real life, these frequencies cannot affect us in any way, and they are just pure theories. But, in my story, it is basically what would happen if these frequencies could affect us both physically and mentally. The resonances do not give you random fetishes; the individual must have an interest in or taste for that fetish, and the resonance intensifies the desire to carry out these fetishes in real life. Not only fetishes but also dark fantasies or behaviors that you would like to carry out but cannot because it would be unacceptable in society, resonance intensifies those desires.

Also, to clarify, the resonance does not control minds or anything; all ponies still have free will; it is up to each one if they decide to surrender to their desires or fight against them. I had to find a way to explain this in the simplest way possible. I had to oversimplify the concept of resonance because I wanted it to be accessible to everyone and not make my story more complex than it already is. I hope this has resolved any doubts. I think my fanfic is the first to implement this concept, and I hope it is interesting for everyone.

For example, Blackjack's nymphomania is due to an experience that she had a long time ago; this will be explained in detail in an future episode, so with the altered frequency and the electromagnetic alterations, Blackjack is sensitive to them (some ponies are more sensitive to them than others; it depends on several factors such as their mental state, genetics, etc.). Sometimes she gives in to her nymphomania; that's why she was fighting not to get horny when she was talking to Candy in chapter 7.

Now, onward to the next chapter.

Also, as an aside, I would like to add this: not all of the comments were actually this legible. In writing this series, I went over these blogs very thoroughly and that meant that I accidentally used Grammarly to correct some of the other users' comments, as well as Andy. I promise y'all that he's not actually this coherent.