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"Hot Dog Warmer" Edition

Previous thread: >>30043846

Archive of /nst/ greentext stories:

Tips for potential writefags:

Updated Wiki: http://nst.wikia.com/wiki/NST_Wikia thanks to NoHooves for updating it

All Human Twilight Sparkle content, such as greentext stories, art and discussion go here.

The original prompt:
>"Uhhh, mmm... Anon? W-what are you doing after school?"

Writefagging, drawfagging, discussion, and other SciTwi-related content are highly encouraged during "down time". New green, drawings, etc. are highly encouraged during these times
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thumb in bum
say nice things about your writefu
I haven't gone to bed >:^( you donks
good choice with the OP btw
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Thanks, m8ty, I thought you were asleep.
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She really is the best thing to have come out of anything related to /nst/, or the board in general. MLP. This site. Hell, all of fiction. All of human knowledge, even. Treehugger is simply "BEST". No matter how you slice it, everything leads back to this weed pony and the indisputable Bestness of her nature.

Taking /nst/, we can see that even the act of drugging and raping a minor is, for Treehugger, an unconditional act of Bestness. Not often can one engage in morally upstanding, drug-induced rape, yet Treehugger was able to make it a Good Rape. Not even Bill Cosby, beloved children's icon, could drug and rape minors in so caring and ethical a manner. The only conclusion one can draw here is that Treehugger is one of those special entities that is in themselves a good, something akin to a Christ or Trump figure who can do no wrong.

In the show, this quality is shown once more. Despite clearly sleeping with Fluttershy and performing all kinds of kinky, drug-induced sex acts on her—Discord's live-in girlfriend and soon-to-be-mother of his child—Treehugger is able to not only right all wrongs by the end of her episode, but prove that her wrongs were rights and the rights of others were in fact wrongs. Discord's jealousy over having his waifu violated in every hole by a filthy hippie is proven to be unjustified. Even further he is superseded when Treehugger solves the Smooze issue by herself, singing out the amniotic song of creation's stasis in the womb: clearly, her powers exceed even those of a god of chaos, for he is made both useless and utterly cucked by this Best Pony.

Taking these immutable qualities of Bestness that Treehugger has, we can see that she manifests herself in many forms, in many works, though of course never quite as perfect as in MLP where her true form has finally been attained after 13.8 billion years of evolution.
Is boringlight finished yet?
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Ironic, she can best all wrongs but not her own depression from falling in love with the victim, no, the favoured of such a good rape.
Reminder that if your waifu is not orange then she is pure trash
Fuck off appel fag
It's just the truth, partner
Look how breedable the two orange horsepeople are compared to the nasty purple one on the left
One fucks her brother and the other is a roastie
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I demand evidence for these wild accusations
Is there a lewd version of this?
> "Boy howdy do I love gargling my big brother's big cock, Ye-haw"
I want to steel Twilight's glasses and wear then to gain her powers
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>"Oh, hi Anon, are you hungry? You sure seem like it."
"Yeah, well, I forgot to bring lunch and I was wondering if you could maybe share yours with me."
>"Okay, just let me grab another ration"
>She grabs a bun.
>Pulls it down her skirt at what you imagine is crotch level.
>"Oh, this is a biggie!"
>Hands it to you.
>pic related.
that picture really wants to make me vomit
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I want to adopt that QT
That's your average roastie.
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You worthelss scum, i hope you all die. You cannot escape from the truth.
You will die, you will die a horrible death.
And then /mlp/ will sing for its free from the parasyte that you all are!
Die NST!
Die you scum!
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what the hell is going on in this thread lmao
Shut up, bitch, you're not real
Autism, NoHooves
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Thread's close

Go ride a dick
People are calling your waifu a degenerate and I am calling Sunset a roastie.
You are wrong
Appul is pure and Sunset is a precious cinnamon roll with a completely unsoiled vagina
All waifus are pure
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>Sunset is a precious cinnamon roll with a completely unsoiled vagina
idk man
i think her vagina is pretty raw from all the scissoring she did with glimmy
Not all
Some took the deep dicc
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>Appul is pure
Are you sure about that?
>i think her vagina is pretty raw from all the scissoring she did with glimmy

Don't you do this to me.
Of course
How could I have forgotten about her wife?
Please delet.
To borrow Rarity's line:

All Applejacks across the multiverse range from "incredibly pure" to "outrageously pure." There are no impure Applejacks.
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>no Applejack ever breeds
What a waste
>Non-canon bisexual.
>Ex top bitch.
>Unsoiled vagina.
Pick one and only one.
Holy shit, why would they animate dykeshit into a movie for kids, what the fuck?
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We have rediscovered our roots.
Stacy's are thots and roasties and should be gassed, this is the second universal truth, surpassed only by BEST.
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Oh God, this needs an edit.
They're absolute madmen
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Treehugger did nothing wrong. BEST.
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its a blue board anon
did you forget?
>Go to Sunslut's Sushi place expecting some nice fish
> Get a roast beef sandwich instead
ive seen that edit before
pretty sure its on derpibooru
i'd look it up myself but I am on my phone
I propose a once-in-a-lifetime event when Mirror Magic airs and all three generals come together for a single thread.
Someone needs to vectorize this.
I propose making a separate thread an then linking said thread to the three generals so that the Glimmerfags and us can call the Shimmerniggers faggots for the entire duration of that thread.
I like to think that not every Glimmer fan is a shitter.

I wish I could be proven right...
Not a Glimmer fan, I just don't dislike the character.
I want to fuck Traplight Glimmy while she moans random quotes from Tolstoy
Trixie shouldn't you be at school?
"Fuck! Glimm, I want to cum!
>You are almost on the edge and she still hasn't had an orgasm.
>The tightness of her pussy reminds you of the suction power of a vacuum pump connected to a Kitasato flask.
"Hurry up, say something!"
>"Everything comes in time to him who knows how to wait"
>Yes, it's working! You can feel her calming voice get through you.
>"There is nothing stronger than these two: patience and time, they will do it all."
"Ahh, thanks Glimm, that was a close call."
>To be honest, you still don't understand if it's her voice that calms you or the fact that she is quoting a Russian philosopher that has been deceased for more than a 100 years while you have your dick inside her.
>You don't really want to think about it anyway.

Finally, I have broken free from my autism and I can finally start writing. Might write something for /enestee/ on the next months.
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>>30228999 >>30230896 >>30235402
Cute in concept but the drawing is just...ugh.
here is the full pic by the way: https://derpibooru.org/1190857
that pic always gets my dick going
>you'll never be Twilight's internet boyfriend
>she'll never vehemently defend the fact that you exist
>she'll never show everyone your dick pics to prove you're real
>you'll never meet her after months of online discussion
>it'll never be the most awkward lunch date of your life
>you'll never laugh about it with her years later.
That stings.
>You will never hate fuck a commie Starlight.
This hurts, but it makes pic related more relevant to me.
Copied for future green.
"Twilight how does that rainbow haired girl know how big my dick is?"
>"I-I dunno I mean I totally did not show my friends the pics you sent me to prove you're real.. Nonsense."
>That pic again.
Oh, turns out the finger thing wasn't as retarded as I thought it was.
Might read that FimFic later.
Is it a sunlight fic?
Haven't read a FimFic in a while and Sunlight is getting a little tiresome to read but I might give it a try, seems pretty depressing.
Name is, literally, as opposed to figuratively, "Fractured Sunlight"
Eh, who knows. I can always hope for a heterosexual Scilight story.
get the fuck out of this general you piece of literal shit
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It has come true.
>That thread.
>Couldn't even write down "The".
>You will never help her get out of her abusive family.
Y-you too, and no I won't, you've really made my day.
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Any greens with very pushy twiggy? Or even midnight, I guess
Her taking the lead
>After helping Twi escaping through her window. you figured it wasn't the wisest thing to have her stay at your place for long period of time because of her crazy parents.
>You look through the records and find out Velvet was married to a "Nightlight" also Twi has older brother named "Shining Armor" who both live in the state.
>Twi is surprised hearing this she never knew about Nightlight or Shining Armor
>You find the address to Nightlight's house and knock the door and see a middle age man.
>You both explain the situation and Nightlight starts crying.
>He starts hugging Twilight which freaks her out then Nightlight tells you that Velvet told him she had a miscarriage and lost the baby 17 years ago.
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It will never be finished though.
>Pic related
Nothing else femdom-ish?
I'd search myself but the bin is so messy, there's no tags or anything
I still don't know what the pic means.
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It's loss.
If you don't know what loss means I am going to have to tell you to lurk moar.
Holy shit after more than a year I finally figured it out. I'm such a fucking dumbass.
Go on...
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fat and no penis
That's thicc, not even chubby, you plebian cunt.
>No penis.
I agree, that's a detractor for me, too.
Alway rember, if she breathe, she a thot.
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>"Uhhh, mmm... Anon? W-what are you doing after school?"
>You’re caught a bit off guard at the sudden voice from behind, and so you momentarily freeze upon realizing two distinct things.
>One: you don’t recognize that voice.
>Two: somebody’s actually talking to you at lunch.
>You close the locker and promptly turn around to see a pair of scared, purple eyes looking up at you.
>They belong to none other than Twilight Sparkle, honor roll student and adjacent locker mate.
>”Ehhehehe…” she chuckles, a bit of sweat showing on her forehead.
>You shake yourself awake and lean back onto your locker, giving a warm smile down at the sophomore once you’re comfortable.
“Nothing much, what’s up?”
>Her eyes flicker between you and someone just out of sight, though the stranger is quick and scuttles just out of sight as you turn.
>Once she realizes that she’s all on her own, Twilight sighs before mustering her courage and giving you a shaky smile.
>”I… Uhhh, was just wondering i-if...”
>She takes a moment to rub her arm with gusto, her eyes now staring pointedly at the floor.
>”If you’d mind sitting next to me during tonight’s soccer game…”
>”Aheh!” Twilight nervously giggles while beginning to rub her arm with renewed gusto as her voice grows frantic.
>“None of my other friends are going, you see, and I really, really don’t wanna’ go alone, s-so I was wondering…”
>You wait a moment for her to continue, but she remains quiet while stealing glances at you.
>You raise a brow and give her a lopsided smile.
“Never thought you liked soccer, Twilight.”
>You expected a small chuckle from that, but she just begins to rub the back of her head.
>”Uh, I’m really not… It’s just t-that, you know, Rainbow Dash is captain, and she always wants us to come and cheer her on…”
>Twilight’s eyes are alight with near-tangible fear and hope, her bottom lip slightly trembling as she now stares at you.

NEETlight when?
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>God, the sheer trepidation on this girl is just adorable
>And it’s enough to make you smile like a retard.
>You chuckle and give her a nod.
“Sounds good, I’ll see you there!”
>Her eyes remain on the ground, a hurt look overtaking them as she begins to speak.
>”No, it’s fine, really, thanks fo—”
>Your smile is quickly replaced with a grimace as she speaks, though it’s quickly replaced with confusion as Twilight looks up, her eyes alight with amazement and pure joy.
>”Wait, really!?”
>You stare at her for a moment before bursting out in a hearty laugh, of which echoes through the halls; all of the previous students having either entered the lunchroom or have gone to their favorite eating spots.
>And then you hear it a moment later.
>Twilight’s laughter.
>This is the first time you’ve heard her laughter outside of her being around her small group of usual friends, and, well, it’s heartwarming to say the least.
>You can’t help but stare for a moment, mind going off to past thoughts of another sophomore whose scratchy laugh was once your daily goal to hear.
>You’re snapped from your reverie when Twilight’s laugh come to an eventual end, her eyes still locked on you as she clasps her hands together while pivoting from one foot to the other.
>You move yourself off of the locker and begin to head off to your usual eating spot, but not before giving her shoulder a playful backhand.
“See you there?”
>You glance over your shoulder to see Twilight waving like a madwoman as the same smile adorns her face, “Yeah, see you then!”
>She quickly turns around before nearly sprinting down the hallway and rushing into the lunchroom, of which all her friends always ate in.
>You walk for several minutes in complete silence, though your mind is far from peaceful.
>You wonder what her friends will tell about you, should she tell them of the possibly budding friendship.
>Especially her.
“...Where the hell is everyone?”
>Your eyes dart around the near-barren bleachers and snack stands for any familiar faces that would care for a talk, but all are either sick of your shit or are complete strangers.
>Well shit.
>At least the field isn’t so bad, and the bleachers even offer a good view.
>Shrugging, you find a corner seat at the bottom of the bleachers and whip out your phone, though you quickly realize how fruitless the endeavor is when you realize just how small your list of friends who want to talk is.
>Maybe you could find a good story?
>You look back up to see if there are any amicable faces among the crowd, though you’re only met with the impassive faces of the teachers and parents.
>Windy Whistles gives you an energetic wave, though, followed by her shaking her husband’s shoulder.
>He gives you a solid nod with just a trace of a smile.
>You smile and wave to both of them before looking back at your device, feigning interest in the thing.
>You sigh at the ultimate truth that nobody’s willing to talk to lil’ old Anon.
>Seems you’re back to your least-favorite masochistic hobby: browsing fanfiction.net in hopes that at least one story will turn out good.
>Shit, shit, and even more shit.
>Like, you’ve read some shit in your days, but the stories you’ve just read bordered on furry cock vore mixed with angsty self-inserts.
>You think the worst one consisted of a plot where someone continually forced a woman to give birth and having her ki—
>”Hey, Anon!”
>You flinch at the closeness of the voice, nearly dropping your phone while you’re at it.
>The sun has started going down, leaving the field and bleachers in a nice, orange haze, though the sun is directly behind Twilight’s head, so you’re forced to squint up at her.
>”Heh heh, oops…”
>You pocket the outdated gadget before looking up at Twilight, a relieved smile now on your mug.
“Got worried you wouldn’t show, you know?”
>”I-it’s only five minutes ‘till it starts…” she offers with a slight rub to the back of her neck, keeping eye contact all the while as she grinds the tip of her shoe into the ground in a nervous fashion.
>You give her a lopsided smile.
“Just pulling your leg, Twilight. C’mon,” you say with a pat to the open bit of metal bleacher next to you, “sit down and enjoy the absolutely riveting sight that is soccer.”
>You turn to said field and give out a silent ‘Woot!’ before turning back to Twilight, a deadpan look now on your face.
>Twilight gives out a small giggle at that before she plops herself down beside you.
>”Well, I mean, it hasn’t even started yet,” she says while shooting you a small smile.
“But isn’t all soccer like this?” you say while scratching your head and going to steal a look at the captain as she does a small practice with one of her comrades. “Watching two people kick a ball back and forth while you eat overpriced nachos and cheap beer?”
>Twilight shrugs at that before a look of recognition crosses her face.
>”Have you ever even been to a soccer game, Anon?”
>You run a hand through your hair, eyes meandering up towards the sky as you give a light shrug.
>“Ooohooo,” Twilight cooes before tugging at the sleeve of your letterman, “Are you in for a treat, Anon!”
>You glance over at her hands, of which she quickly retracts with a small chuckle, though she continues on with the same amount of excitement.
>”You haven’t lived until you’ve seen Dash play, she’s like an animal!”
>Both of your heads snap to attention as the shrill cry of a whistle echoes throughout the field and beyond.
>They’re beginning the anthem to the Equestrian flag.
>Standing with the rest of the bleachers, you place your hand over your heart and begin to sing along, comforted by the fact that there’s someone familiar next to you.
>Well, familiar as you two can be with the handful of conversations you’ve had, but it’s a level of familiarity nonetheless.
>...God that sounds pathetic.
>The anthem soon ends and you take your seat, only to see Twilight sneak a peek at her phone.
>She snaps her fingers and turns to you with one brow raised
>”Hey, wanna’ grab some snacks?”
>A low hum escapes your throat as you try to remember exactly how much is in your wallet.
>Nine, maybe twelve dollars?
>Should be enough for a nice pretzel.
>You shrug and nod.
“Sure, but let’s wait until the first goal, though.”
>Twilight nods and pockets her phone, letting the moment pass as you two begin to watch the sport in earnest.
>And, much to your surprise, the first score is made in rapid succession, a mad blitz by the opposing team to your goal.
>Your side of the bleachers is deathly silent, nobody really expecting the first goal to be made in under a minute, but you’re quick to join in on the motivational cheer done by the cheerleaders.
>You remember this one by heart, despite your rather long hiatus from any school sporting event.
>Your booming voice is only matched by that of Celestia, her sister, and Dash’s parents.
>When you finish the cheer and take your seat, however, you notice Twilight trying to make herself a small figure as possible, leaning further and further into herself while she blushes heavily.
“Something wrong, Twilight?”
>Her eyes go wide for a moment before she springs back up in her seat, eyes now on you as she realizes that the cheering is over.
>”Just got a little nervous, I guess. Heh heh…”
>You give the young woman another lopsided grin before lightly slapping her shoulder with a chuckle.
“And here I was thinking you wanted us to cheer Dash on.”

Well, that's all I have written. I'll continue it if anyone likes it, and sorry for any mistakes I've made, this is my first time posting green. Oh, and major thanks to those two Anons yesterday who encouraged me to start writing yesterday in the, "Sum up why you're here in one image" thread. I'd buy you two a beer any day.





Please continue this.
Well, I'm interested. It's always cool seeing green, especially here, and I would have assumed you were a seasoned writefag. Maybe we'll get some life in this thread.
I gotta run in a few minutes but I will definitely read this when I get back.
>Her blush returns as her eyes dart from side to side, her fingers now lightly slapping her cheeks as she lets out a weird mixture of a giggle and a nervous groan.
>”Well, I, uhhh… You see!”
>You stare a moment longer before standing up with a chuckle, idly gesturing towards the nearby snack shack with a flick of your head.
“How about snacks, then existential crisis?”
>Twilight’s cheek slapping comes to an abrupt halt, her purple eyes now looking up at you.
>Ever so slowly do her hands fall to her sides as she makes to stand, though she’s now rubbing her arm again.
>”T-that’d be preferable…”
>And so you two make way for the snack shack, though both of you are far too wrapt with the furious game of soccer that’s just to your left, there never being a dull moment as people are sent flying nearly as much as the ball.
>Just as you’re third in line, however, the sound of polyester meeting flesh makes you chuckle.
“Woah, you see that?”
>You point at the laid out player, one underclassman which you can’t name at the moment, letting out a low whistle as you admire the new shade of purple his face is wearing.
>She looks nervously at the young woman before noticing that the player shoots a thumbs up to nobody in particular, much to the joy of both of the bleachers.
>She lets out a held in breath before adopting a cocky smile.
>”Told you it was a treat!”
“Heh, guess you were right, must’ve just forgotten how good these events are.”
>Twilight looks up at that, eyes somewhat wide as she looks up at you.
>”I never knew you came to any of the games.”
>You smile at her and shrug while looking at the captain talking to the downed player, a temporary pause in the game having been called to see if the girl had, despite her thumbs up, received a concussion.
“You must’ve forgotten that I’ve been here four years, and you’ve been here what, little over half of one?”
>You chuckle and move up in the line, now second place alongside Twilight.
“Hell, I was here when the soccer program just got started, was there at their first game too.”
>”Oh yeah, didn’t we somehow make state three years back?”
>You correct her with an upheld finger while turning back to her.
“Six, actually, but yeah, it was rea—”
>”Wait, six years? How have you been here six years?”

>You shake your head at the sudden interruption before returning eyes on the game as it starts anew.
“My dad’s Handy.”
>You hoped that your dismissive flick of the hand and quick explanation would’ve been enough, but Twilight merely looks at you as if you’d started speaking Russian.
>Oh for God’s sake.
“Handy, that’s his name, ring a bell?”
>”...The janitor?”
>Her confusion subsides quickly, but in its place you find reason to slightly hang your head and break eye contact with the field, now finding the parking lot much more interesting.
”Yeah, listen, it’s a long story. Mind if we don’t talk about this right now?”
>Detecting your apparent shame and reluctance to go in further detail, Twilight nods before turning back to the line.
>There comes a slight tug at your sleeve, followed by you realizing that it’s your time to order.
>You do so quickly enough, ordering a pretzel with some cheese while Twilight orders a blue snow cone and a small bag of cool ranch chips.
>You two take your seats again without much hassle before both digging in.
>Just as you’re stuffing your mouth full of fattening bread and cheese, however, there comes a nagging feeling in the back of your skull.
>It’s almost as if you’re forgetting something…
>You turn to your side and immediately remember, already moving to tear off a sizable bit of pretzel and dip it in the divine sauce.
>She accepts with a smile and a proper thanks before plopping the whole thing in her mouth...

>And then she subsequently melts into her chair, slumping back with a satisfied moan, of which sounded an awful lot like a ‘thank you’.
>You two watch the game in relative silence for a while, though you finish your snack all too soon.
>Thoughts of suicide appear in the place of your warm cheese.
>You glance over to see Twilight working on her bag of cool ranch tortilla chips, of which you nod at with a thumbs up.
“Best flavor, excellent choice.”
>”Uhhh, nacho cheese is better.”
>You take a deep breath in and clap your hands together.
“Cool ranch is objectively better, nacho cheese tastes like rancid ass smeared on a chip.”
>She actually chokes on that one, though you’re not sure if it’s in laughter or shock.

>You pat her back to help her through it at any rate.
>”Thanks,” she offers once she’s regained full control of her faculties, though her voice does sound a little hoarse.
>You don’t wait before making to stand, hoping that you’ve enough money for what you’ve got in mind.
“Be right back.”
>And so you leave Twilight back to her own machinations, silently hoping that she doesn’t manage to choke to death while you’re gone.
>The snack shack is thankfully less busy when you arrive for the second time, and you’re left with five dollars in pocket as you make way back to Twilight, angrily grumbling to yourself all the while.
“Dollar fiddy for a Goddamned water bottle… Fuckin kikes.”
>When you reach your seat, however, you realize that someone’s taken your seat.
>A very unwelcome someone.
>You merely stare at the young man below you, gaze unflinching as his eyes meet your own.
>His face, usually one of carefree joy or thoughtlessness, is now one of a solemn demeanor.
>Your sneer at the bearded manchild as he makes to stand from your seat.
>”Was just saying hi to Twilight.”
>Your eyes flash to Twilight, of whom is rubbing her arm furiously and glancing between you and Grizz.
>”Wanted to make sure she was alright.”
>You raise an eyebrow at him.
>”Because that’s what friends do, Anon. They care about each other.”
>You nudge your head to the rest of the open bleachers and before speaking in a low voice.
“Get the fuck outta’ here, Grizz.”
>He holds up two hands in a placating manner, a shit-eating smile on his face as he begins to fake shiver.
>”Ooo, scary. What’cha gonna do, fight me?”
>He shows his yellowing teeth in a bigger smile, one which you don’t return.
>”We know who’ll win if you do.”
>Stupid cunt..
>You glance at Twilight, her eyes now locked onto yours.
>She may not be saying it, but she’s silently pleading for this to end.
>You take another look at manchild, of whom is still holding that shit-eating smile.

>You sneer and shake your head.
>Any other day and you would’ve cursed this sperg into oblivion.
“Yeah, sure, if that’s what you wanna’ think.”
>You gesture to the side and lean back against the railing, adopting a neutral face again.
“We’re waiting.”
>Grizz blinks before turning to see the nervous faces of Twilight, several other sophomores and freshman, along with a few juniors who shoot you both skeptical looks from on the bleachers.
>He smiles at you before making a tactical retreat to the other side of the bleachers, not another word spoken as he sits down among the few seniors that would have him.
>You curse under your breath before retaking your seat next to Twilight, making quick to offer her the water.
“You sounded thirsty. Drink?”
>She stares at the drink for several moments, then back at you, then back at the drink.
>Your breath stops as she moves to shake her head, though she eventually goes against her initial decision and takes the drink.
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C-could it possibly be? The thing which comes only once every 10 thousand years.... a new writefag?!
>Her voice is weak and somewhat weary, though you can’t possibly imagine why.
“He didn’t say anything bad about me, did he?”
>She finishes taking a drink before managing to muster the courage to look at you, her eyes slightly wide at this.
>”N-no, he just kind’a… Introduced himself, asked if I was doing alright?”
>Her tone tells you that she’s as unsure as you.
“Ehrm, sorry that you had to see that…”
>Silence for a moment, then a slightly nervous voice.
>”It’s fine.”
>You breath a sigh of relief when realizing that it’s the usual nervousness that accompanies the young woman, and not one that’s fearful for any actual reason.
>Back to square on—
>A roar from the crowd around you forces both of you to look up from the floor and see the mass of uniforms as they scramble into well-rehearsed formations, the ball currently switching possession faster than you can keep track of.
>You glance at the scoreboard.
>Well, shit.
>And the time?
>Fifteen minutes left in the first half.
>Time sure does fly.
>Seems that you quickly realize why everyone on the bleachers, for both sides at that, is standing up and cheering their hearts out.
>The ball is constantly stolen, recaptured, and then stolen again as younglings crash into each other at an astonishing rate, yourself nodding several times as shins are kicked into submission while ‘missing’ the ball.
>And, surprisingly enough, there’s a distinct lack of injuries on the soccer field.
>Unsurprisingly enough, you find yourself cheering as a few familiar faces get the ball ‘this’ close from shooting into the enemy’s net, though, either by bad luck or clear skill on the goalie’s part, none of them enter.
>Just as you feel a bit of the momentum shift in the opposition’s favor, however, you feel something swell within your chest as a silent, yet profoundly loud in your mind, yet determined voice cheers out just to your side, the young woman now standing besides you.
>It’s something that you’ve not felt in several months.
>School pride.
>Sucking in a great mouthful of air, you let your voice echo throughout the bleachers as a familiar tune rings out from your mouth.
“Wondercolts are what?”
>A moment’s hesitation from the crowd comes, a fair share of eyes now on you, but there comes a reply.
>Oh, there’s a reply all right.
>You look at the principal and her sisters, smiles adorning their faces as they turn to see you, both of them jumping up and down in place.
>Luna makes an effort to wave around that foam finger she always fucking has at these events, even after all these years.
>Celestia, however, sucks in a breath before shouting out to everyone at your half of the bleachers.
>”Everybody now!”
>You turn to see the faces of Canterlot High School.
>Some are fiercely shouting at the field, any semblance of cohesion in their cheers lost.
>A few talk amongst themselves while absentmindedly pointing at the field and chattering away.
>The majority of them, however, look at you with anticipation.
>No scorn, no suppressed hate, just anticipation of a cheer that’ll give your team the second wind they need.
>It’s almost enough to make your heart flutter.
>And so you lead the glorious bastards through the near-decade old chant, your feet not bouncing you in the air as you pump an arm while beginning on another few cheers that haven’t been said yet this game.
>The cheerleaders were taking a break, but that’s alright.
>You got this one covered.
>Soon enough, however, you notice someone bouncing excitedly right next to you.
>Your smile expands exponentially as you see the sheer joy in Twilight’s eyes, herself now bouncing up and down with the rest of the crowd as the captain goes in for the kill.
>She cheers like a woman possessed, and you can only try to match her at this point, your voice long since gone as the end of the first half nears.
>You still stand with the best of them, but you’re left almost mute by the time your team scores, mere seconds before the half ends.
>The crowd roads, and, for a moment, you wonder if you’ll go deaf.
>You feel as if this is going to be a long, long game…
>Not that you’re complaining.
>You haven’t smiled this much in months.

You bet your ass, Anon. And I'm here to stay, as long as you'll all have me. Writing green, as I've just found out these past few days, is some of the funnest writing I've done to date.

I would say expect more before nightfall, but I don't exactly want this thread to turn into me putting my shit here.

Or is that acceptable and entirely what this thread is for? Dunno'.
Man I wish I had this much fun in high school.
Stlat, do you have Discord? If so, add IceMan#7038, and I'll add you to the writefags group.
You can post all you want m8ty. Completely acceptable as long as you don't burn yourself out.
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Hey iceman.
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How are doing?
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I'm fine. Kinda hungry because I haven't eaten anything all day.
Then eat something.
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I am. I was in the process of heating up some fried rice my housemate made.
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Update: the fried rice has been consumed.
>You think the worst one consisted of a plot where someone continually forced a woman to give birth and having her ki—
Alien: Covenant?
“Watching two people kick a ball back and forth while you eat overpriced nachos and cheap beer?”
I definitely love your Anon.
>this is my first time posting green.
>“Cool ranch is objectively better, nacho cheese tastes like rancid ass smeared on a chip.”
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Upon my honor as a writefag, I swear that what I say is true.
>Your cheering days are over, sadly enough.
>The game continues, yes, but there are no longer any truly gripping moments like at the end of the first half.
>Well, that is at least up until the very end.
>You look at Twilight, her voice somehow still managing to remaining to stay strong after the repeated hours of use.
>Her eyes still show all the joy of a child getting a whole tub of ice cream to himself, but you see the subtle signs of exhaustion on her face.
>Slight bags under the eyes, her blinking is slowed down to a point where she sometimes begins to hold her eyes closed before going back to get stuck in with the cheering, and, hell, she even gives out a yawn at one point before slumping back onto her seat.
>You tap her shoulder before catching her tired eyes.
>...Your voice.
>Dear God, you sound like some sixty year old smoker that’s on one of anti-smoking commercials late at night.
>Twilight leans close in after shouting back her response, cupping a hand around her ear to help.
>Chuckling, of which sounds an awful lot like Darth Sidious’, you shake your head and wave her off, trying your best to gesticulate that your voice has died.
>She tilts her head at you before reaching down and producing something familiar.
>You raise an eyebrow but take back the water bottle, offering a nod with a smile in place of any words.
>You chug the thing, though are promptly interrupted by the need to clench every orifice as the sound of well over two hundred cheering men and women shakes you to the core.
>Your hand slipped on the bottle, and, just like that, you now look like you’ve done and gone pissed yourself.
>Groaning, you make to stand and begin to walk off in hopes of finding a bathroom.
>A tug at your sleeve, however, stays your retreat.
>”What’s wrong, Anon?”
>You take a moment to gesture towards the empty bottle in your hand and the huge wet spot upon your crotch.
>”...Oh yeah, you should probably go get that washed up, huh?’
>She waves you off before returning her attention back to the game, no more than ten minutes on the clock.
>Grumbling, you begin to wander around before eventually finding the sorry excuse for this school’s bathroom.
>Drawings of dicks and white stains adorn the slightly yellow walls, as per usual, but it’s the smell that makes you gag.
>Good God, it’s as if the Pooping Bandit took one in the air vents and left it there to fester, it’s that bad.
>You soldier through it, however, and quickly find yourself patting down your crotch with handfuls of toilet paper.
>The task is done quickly enough, despite your dong feeling a little damp after three drying attempts, and you head outside to come face to face with a sight that you didn’t expect.
“Well, shit…”
>Rubbing the back of your neck, you make way to the forming crowd of CHS students and faculty going to greet the team returning from the field, sweaty hugs and warm congratulations filling the scene.
>Well, if there’s one thing you could always love about the CHS student body, it’s that they were always loving at sporting events, come win or loss.
>When you see a familiar rainbow colored head of hair in the crowd connect with a purple one, you can’t help but chuckle and give a small smile.
>Despite everything, it’s still good to see Dash having a good time, whatever the circumstances may be.
>Former friends all around you continue on this orgy of affection and good nature, but you can’t help but take a step back.
>Close as you are to the action, nobody makes way to greet you.
>A few people give you a nod, but you’re merely standing there with arms crossed and a lopsided smile on your face.
>Slowly, though, it begins to fall.
>People bump into your shoulder, laughter now roaring through the crowd as small groups begin to gather, close knit friends slapping each other on the back or cracking jokes.
>Everyone has a friend else to laugh with, to enjoy this momentary high in life with.
>You take another step back.
>The familiar sight of Rainbow Dash sends your heartbeat spiking again, but this time it’s different.
>You take another step back.
>The man she’s hugging…
>Another step back.
>She’s never given you a hug after that day, no matter how many times you apologized or tried to make it right.
>Two hasty steps back.
>So why would she hug the man who caused it all?
>Why would she trust that stupid cunt?
>You can’t take this anymore.
>The crowd, the smell, the cramped space, it’s all too much.
>Trying to calm your breathing as you make a hasty, yet calm, retreat out of the area, you more or less jam your key into the bike’s lock which keeps it attached to the rack, jingling and twisting the key in a desperate attempt to get it free.
>And come free it does, but you’re still feeling the anxiety like no other.
>You shove the key into your shoe before shoving the lock into your mouth.
>No time to think, just gotta’ get out of here.
>With a few kicks of the leg, thankfully, you are left speeding off into the night’s dark embrace, snarl on your face the entire time as that image plays in your head over and over.
>Why would she even pay attention to you anyway?
>You think back to that day, his words forever engraved into your memory.
>You mutter his familiar words through teeth clenched hard on the metal lock.
>They are slurred, but are all too clear.
”Why are you being such a fucking asshole, Anon? We’re trying to help you, and you keep acting a child!”

Alright, I'm dead, gone like twenty-eight hours or so hours without sleep, all the while writing this, needed to get my sleep schedule back on track anyway. Much love to everyone who's reading, you're all far too kind.

Will continue this tomorrow, that I promise you. And there'll be more Twilight, trust me on that, I've got a plan for all'a this.
Fuck yes, thanks for posting here this has been awesome so far
thanks for the story
Dem feels.
Jeff where are you?
Besides the occasional misspell, you write pretty good, Stlat
Hard to believe it's your first time.
Jeff is in Montana, joining a cult.
which cult
the dc girls fandom
He is in Montana teaching Ubisoft how to properly depict a religious cult.
He is now telling them, and I quote, "I'm gonna make Boko Haram look like a fucking joke".
What a champ.
>relevant in any way since Unity
Take your bad memes away. Best graphics and gameplay since AC1.
And to be clear, I don't like Jewisoft, I just think that Unity gets a lot of bullshit just for having a shitty launch.
Now, Syndicate, that's a fucking piece of hot garbage.
>Likes Catholic Timber
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Scilight is literally built for sex.
Yes, with her husband Timber
You understand that this bait is ineffective in here because we have an autistic multiverse, right?
>It’s hard to think everything was all so good little under a year ago.
>Friends with damn near everyone on campus, mom would have a hot meal waiting for you everyday, and, most notably, she smiled every time you met eyes.
>Or was it just over a year ago when things weren’t shit?
>...Or are you thinking about literal years or school years?
“I don’t fuckin know.”
>Your own stupid slurring forces yet another bout of mad giggles from you, everything feeling all tingly.
>”Dude, you’re fuckin’ gone.”
>You turn and glare at the woman just beside you, offering a single finger before jabbing her in the ribs, smile on your face all the while.
“Fuck you, you’re way more drunker!”
>Giving a gentle nod while staring at you with a challenging eye, she passes you the glass bottle as large as your head.
>Not daring to stop as you both continue towards the door, you press the thing to your lips and drink like there’s no tomorrow.
>Just then, few voices call out from behind.
>Oh, that’s new.
>You’ve never been called out to chug before.
>Inspired by the new sensation, you continue to glug the thing down until your lungs and burning and your head feels light as a balloon.
>It doesn’t even taste that bad.
>Hell, you’d wager that it tastes more like soda than actual vodka, but with a funny aftertaste.
>The bottle weighs noticeably less when you hand it back to her, though you can’t help but give a drunken giggle at that smile coming down from her.
>She grabs you around the waist before leading you forward towards the back door, your memory now returning to the task at hand.
>Man, this is going to be rad.
>Leaving the blaring music and cacophony of partygoers behind, however, you discover one fact.
>It’s so dark that you can barely see a few feet in front of you.
>She doesn’t give you any time to recover from the disorientation, so you kind of walk without thinking while still in her grasp.
>Oh, hey, a light.
>It’s a campfire.
>No, wait, that requires a camp, right?
>No, this one’s too small.
>Er, it’s just a fucking fire, that’s all you know.
>Not a big fire, but one with people sitting around it.
>They seem to be having a good time, giggling while they put something over the fire.
>You presume marshmallows, as even the fire and things around it is blurry.
>Everything’s blurry at this point.
>The arm around you leads you down a stone path, though, so you’re not with much time to oggle at the bright sight.
>But there’s an echo of a voice, barely audible, but audible still.
>Someone shouting in the distance?
>No, wait, it’s getting closer.
>Funny, it sounds familiar.
>You feel her hand slowly move down and to the right, which gets you atten—
>You snap to attention at the newfound face in front of you, trying hard to discern the face amidst the blinding darkness.
>You don’t immediately recognize the blurry face, so you squint at the newcomer’s face for several long, silent moments until you can just make out who exactly the face belongs to.
>You adopt a large smile and reach out with a hand to grab and shake her shoulder with gusto, giving out a guffaw as you do.
“Ayyy, wassup? Where ya’ been? Haven’t seen ya’ since the game!”
>Remembering what you were doing, you remove your hand from the sophomore and begin to jab your newest friend in the side repeatedly until she begins to giggle.
“Oh, oh, oh, Tilight! Ya’ gotta’ meet her, her names… Uh…”
>You look up to her with blurry eyes, but there comes no answer, just a smile.
“Yeah, somthin like that... But she’s got a cadillac, Twilight, a fucking ca-dil-lac! We’re hittin’ the town!”
>You can’t help but give out a another giggle at that, to which the woman holds you closer and returns the laughter.
>Man, this is gonna’ be great!
>Oh God.
>This is not good.
>You glance back at your group, eyes pleading for help, and immediately do three of your more courageous friends join your side.
>Coming in close to nudge your side, Sunset places a hand on her hip while looking at the three strangers with a slight scowl, eyes occasionally drifting to Anon with worry.
>”What’s wrong, Twilight?”
>Her voice, thankfully, comes as a whisper.
>Boldened somewhat by the presence of Rainbow Dash, Sunset, and Applejack, you take in a slow breath before returning the whisper.
“They’re going to do something to Anon, this isn’t good.”
>Sunset’s eyes dart to the three strangers before examining them in greater detail.
>All three appear to be in their mid-twenties, all just slightly taller than you, and there comes a terrible reek of alcohol and smoke.
>Worst of all is the fact that all the strangers appear relatively sober, this being even more noticeable as Anon begins to ramble with a terrible slur.
>Everyone decides to ignore him.
>Situation report?
>Not good.
>”Let me take care of this.”
>Sunset steps in front of you and all but growls out her next few words.
>”Yeah, no. I’m going to have to put a stop to this before you do anything you’ll regret.”
>Despite your blood running cold, Dash and Applejack move to stand shoulder to shoulder with Sunset.
>Anon blinks slowly at this before going quick, his eyes moving up to the eyes of the woman holding him close.
>Silence reigns king for several long moments, the women smiling down you four
>”Do you even know his name?”
>Sunset’s words are said with more than a healthy dose of venom, reminding you of less pleasant times with her, but the assertiveness in her voice is still enough to make the calm looks on the women’s faces falter.
>Eventually, though, one of them whispers something to the one holding Anonymous.
>The two exchange a look, their eyes concealed by the darkness of the night.
>Nothing happens for several moments.
>Anonymous then tumbles to the ground with a thud, the woman’s hand vanishing from around his hip.
>You move without thinking and move to his side, immediately helping the drunk man up after checking for blood.
>He’s wobbly, yet he stands nonetheless.
>You blush a bit as he reaches over your shoulder for support, but you only hesitate for a good ten seconds or so before grabbing him across the side to hold him upright.
>He stabilizes after that, and only now do you realize that the three strangers have vanished.
>You blink and look at Shimmer, only now letting loose that breath you were holding in.
>You then notice that the girls are surrounding you.
>Some look with interest, others amusement, and one with disgust, but all are placed on Anon.
>”He alright?”
>Anon tilts his head to the speaker, pursing his lips before offering her a somewhat shaky hand before uttering a clear word.
>Sunset merely stretches out a smile before pinching the tip of his index finger and giving it a tiny shake.
>She then pulls back and turns to the rest of you, smiling without a care as she shoots a thumb at him.
>”He reeks of the stuff.”
>Applejack gives out a short nod before flicking up her hat after having a small session of looking into Anon’s eyes.
>”Eeeyup, he’s outta’ it.”
>”I think we’ve gathered that much, dear.”
>Applejack shrugs, a hint of annoyance in her eyes, but continues on nonplussed.
>”Glad you noticed him when you did, at least. Lord only knows what could’a happened...”
>Sunset puts three fingers in front of Anon’s face, to which he stares at for several moments.
>These moments turn into a good half a minute until he gives a lame shrug.
Well that turned depressing.
>You turn back to Sunset with a groan, your usual face breaking in spite of having a drunk, and rather heavy, friend on your shoulders.
“Uh, Sunset? What do I do here, exactly? I’m not exactly experienced when it comes to these type of situations…”
>”Uh, right.”
>”Sorry, dalin’.”
>Sunset gestures back over to the fire and to one of the open seats, namely the open sofa.
>Being the kind soul that she is, Applejack offers to take the hefty man, literally, off your shoulders, and you don’t hesitate a moment before shifting him over.
>It’s then when you all realize that he’s asleep.
>Applejack gives a few light slaps to his face in an attempt to wake him, but nothing comes of it.
>Sunset holds his nose, to which he just begins to breathe out of his mouth.
>Pinkie them splashes his face with a glass of water.
>There comes a few gasps from the group, and a growl from Applejack, but Pinkie purses her lips once she discovers that Anon’s still asleep.
>Dash then makes for the man, opening an eyelid and staring into it.
>She stares for a moment before sighing and stepping back, offering a shrug before crossing her arms.
>”One of them probably spiked his drink, no way he’d be out this hard otherwise.”
>She then rubs the back of her neck before muttering something inaudible, her legs now carrying her around in circles as she begins to silently ramble to herself.
>”Well, sure didn’t expect to see this when I woke up…”
>You nod at Sunset, watching as Pinkie takes care of Anon’s legs before the two lead him over to the sofa, of which they set him down softly upon.
“Didn’t even know there were drinks at this party…”

Might have more later, but I've been extremely tired today for no apparent reason.

For the next thread, if the next op would be so kind: https://pastebin.com/phPMVFcM
Really need a nude edit of this pic. for scientific reasons.
Is the EQG edit thread up?
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No, they're apparently on hiatus or something until the next special because they don't have enough content.
Poor anon was gonna get raped.
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Trying out a somewhat new writing style in this one. Hope it works.

>There’s a certain quality to a Midwestern summer that really doesn’t exist anywhere else on the globe
>The air is thick and hot, smelling vaguely of sweat and corn-dust, and the sky above you seems to stretch forever in all direction in some sort of inverted neon-blue globe
>There’s absolutely nothing between you and the sun, and within minutes the sweat starts to break out along your scalp, dripping in hotly and fiendishly onto your normally-pristine glasses
>You raise a hand to wipe them away, and when your vision is cleared, you see that the line for the Sound Tech tent is moving again
>You shuffle forward with the rest of them, feeling immensely out of place in your plaid skirt and vest
>Most of the kids waiting in line are barely sixteen, dressed in faded jeans and t-shirts with acid holes eaten through them
>Nearly all of them have oversized headphones, with chords dangling across their shoulders and disappearing into the recesses of pockets stretched by trendy MP3 players
>Even though most of them are lost in their music, or examining what little of the Ponyville City Fair grounds can be seen, you can still feel the little angst-goblins taking occasional glances over at you
>You can’t tell if they’re watching you because you stick out, or out of lecherous teenage-boy desire, or both
>Either way, it makes you sick, and you’re starting to wonder why you thought this was a good idea

>Back when you were a kid, your parents would take you to the Ponyville City Fair every summer; it was a sort of a ritual, a supposed escape from the hustle and bustle of the city
>But even as a five-year-old girl, you always found like it felt very little like an escape from hustle and/or bustle, and more like just throwing yourself into crowds that were much more rugged, jostly, and offensive-smelling than those in Canterlot
>Because there’s a very special type of crowd that only exists in the Midwest, this sort of ambling summation of overweight bodies that lopes between food stands and benches, all while someone somewhere, just out of view, is dropping F-bombs at their kids
>So yeah, you’re not really a fan of the whole fair scene
>But they put out an ad saying they needed Sound Techs for the Sick Puppies concert (yes, apparently that’s a band that still exists) that’s happening later tonight, and you’re a starving University of Canterlot student, and that little combination of misfortunes lead you to this line, standing in muddy, churned up grass that smells vaguely of armpit, as you wait to be admitted
>Finally, you reach the head of the line, and receive your “Sound Technician” badge, along with a small instruction pamphlet that details what you personally will be doing today
>The man handing them out is quiet, resembling the glassy, stretched figure you’d expect from a Midwestern farmer
>You take your things and head further into the fairgrounds, checking over the itinerary
>Judging by the schedule, it looks like you won’t have any real responsibilities until around 8 PM, which leaves you with…
>…Christ, that’s almost eight hours you need to kill
>What are you going to do in this dump for eight hours?
>There’s no way in hell you’re ever getting on any of these centrifugal-force nightmares they call rides; each one of them looks like they haven’t been maintained in any way shape or form in twenty years, resembling spiders machines of rusting pipe and chainbelts that squeak and churn under the effort of their ridiculous momentum
>Fortunately, at the very least, your Sound Tech badge does entitle you to twenty dollars of free food, so you have that to look forward to

>Then again, when you check out the food stands, suddenly it’s starting to sound like it entitles you more to twenty dollars worth of diabetes; it seems that the only stuff on the menu is various forms of fried dough or crushed ice slathered in syrup
>Not particularly appetizing
>So you just sort of wander around, for a bit, your stomach rumbling
>The fairgrounds are laid out without any sort of discernible pattern; just a massive maze of pink and yellow tents, heaped in zig-zag lines in an effort to avoid the churned-up sections of mud
>This early in the day, there still aren’t a lot of patrons in the place yet; mostly either couples in their twenties carrying disinterested infants, or the elderly
>So you’re able to enjoy at least a little bit of peace before the throngs arrive
>Still, you have this odd sense that someone’s following you
>Which probably isn’t totally off-mark; after all, it’s a fair, there’s probably some other morning straggler making their way along a similar path
>But that doesn’t do much to calm your nerves, and you can swear you can hear sloshing footsteps tracing you just out of sight, somewhere amongst the grungy tents

>Gradually, you make your way over to the rear section of the fairgrounds, stepping carefully along the path to avoid getting your shoes dirty
>Again, you really have to wonder, what made you think you had to dress up for this?
>Not only are you the nicest-dressed person by far, these shoes are already hurting your feet after only walking half a kilometer, and you can tell you’ll be aching by the end of tonight
>Near the edge of the fairgrounds, though, you come across a surprisingly pleasant-looking ride
>Nothing terrible interesting, of course, which is probably why they buried it back here; it’s a single metal cage, about five feet by five feet, and is supported on a metal arm that seems to function vaguely like a cherrypicker
>Basically, it lifts you a hundred or so feet in the air, and lets you get a view of the entire fairgrounds, and of the clippings of Ponyville that can be seen over the hilly horizon
>You wouldn’t mind a look at the town; it’s a sunny morning, cloudless, so you can imagine you’ll get a pretty decent view
>A faded plastic sign hangs over the ride’s entrance, announcing it as the Sky-Hi View (sic)
>As you step inside, two pimple-faced kids — one of which is impossible short and fat, the other impossible tall and skinny, like they stepped out of a some old black-and-white comedy routine — pester you for tickets
>You flash them your Sound Tech badge, trying your best to look professional, and they just sort of shrug
>When you step inside the cage, it wobbles a little more than you’re comfortable with
>The floor, walls, and ceiling are all wire mesh, giving you a fairly unobstructed view of the entirety of your surroundings
>The two boys whisper something to each other, and the fat one eases a control lever downwards
>Pistons hiss and groan as the metal arm extends upwards in some phallic display of power, lifting you up, up into the air
>The machine doesn’t extend to its full height, though, for whatever reason
>The two boys only take you about forty feet in the air, giving you enough vantage to see the surrounding tents, the empty parking lot, and not much more
>A little disappointing, but you suppose it’s peaceful
>You stand at the far edge of the cage, with your fingers threaded through the holes in the mesh
>Leaning your head back, you take a long, pensive breath, letting the cool morning air fill your lungs
>That’s when you hear snickering coming from below you
A wild Jeff appears.
>It’s not particularly loud, but some trick of the breeze carries the insect-chatter of the two boys laughing up to your ears
>You glance downward, and they immediately look away
>For a moment, you wonder what the hell they’re laughing at
>Then it occurs to you that the floor, being mesh, is completely see-through
>And you’re wearing a skirt
>Beneath which, of course, are nothing but your shoes, socks, and a pair of frayed white panties you’ve owned since you were about twelve years old
“H-hey! Stop!”
>You should down at them, but your voice sounds shrill and weak, easily diffusing into the empty sky
“I said p-put me down! Stop looking at me!”
>You cross your legs, obstructing their view, but the boys continue to laugh
>The fat one jostles the lever, making the cart rattle
>You stumble, falling onto your ass and giving the dipshits below you a full view of your underwear
“Cut it out! I’ll tell…”
>You honestly can’t think of who you’ll tell
>But before you can finish the statement, someone strides out from the nearby Coin Toss Extreme tent
>It’s hard to make any details about them out from this high up, but you can tell they’re wearing a leather jacket, and have at least ten pounds on either of the boys
>Only, judging by the rippling size of their arms, that extra weight isn’t fat
>”Hey, screwheads! Put ‘er down.”
>The voice is unmistakably female, though it’s a lot, well… rougher, than you’d expect a girl’s voice to be
>Sounds like the kind of woman who’d try to fight you at a trash-metal nightclub
>The boys say something indistinguishable, but their tone is high-pitched and whiney
>Sounds something like “Blah blah blah …you gonna do to stop us?”
>”I’ll grab you by the hair and him by the balls, and just keep smashing you two together ‘till you’re suckin’ his dick. How’s that sound?”
>The boy says something back, sounding much less confident this time
>The woman kicks the fence with so much force a bar bends, and the resounding clang hurts your ears even from forty feet above
>Immediately, the boys cower, and bring you down so quickly that your stomach drops
>You stumble out of the cage, so furious you can barely speak, and stride right up the boys
>They shrink back, pale and terrified
“Y-you! I’ll have you know that—“
>The mystery-woman’s hand closes around your arm
>”Alright, Susan B. Anthony, ya don’t need to read ‘em the riot act. Let’s just get outta here.”
>Up close, her appearance fits exactly what you’d expect from her voice
>Rigid muscles, cropped white hair, and a squarish jaw give her a vaguely masculine appearance, but the size of her chest and the width of her hips would dissuade anyone from mistaking her for being male
“But I…”
>”Let ‘em jerk their dicks on their own. C’mon.”
>Before you can think of anything clever to say, the woman drags you away

>After the two of you get about twenty feet away from the ride, you pull away from her
“S-stop pulling me around! I need to tell security about this!”
>The white-haired girl raises her arms behind her head, stretching
“Because they l-looked up my skirt! That’s disgusting!”
>”They’re disgustin’ kids. Why’re you getting so worked up about some horny boys?”
“Because… because that’s abuse! They c-can’t do that!”
>The woman shrugs
>“Not like that can actually hurt you.”
“They c-could!”
>”Not if you don’t let ‘em. Good smack would have ‘em crying.”
“But… ah, whatever. You don’t understand.”
>A moment of silence passes, in which you and her continue walking aimlessly through the fair
“Thanks, though. For intervening. What’s your name?”
“Thank you, Gilda. Now can you find me somewhere to report a sexual abuse situation?”
>At that, she actually laughs
>Her laugh comes out more like a bark, something hardy, chest-heavy, and kinda impressively genuine
>”At the fair? Good luck.”
“What do you m-mean, ‘good luck?’ Those boys were abusing me! The fair is supposed to be a safe space!”
>She looks like she’s trying hard not to laugh at you again
>”Half of this shit ain’t been tested in ten years. At least one person’s gonna go to the hospital by the time it’s over. Since when’s a fair safe?”
“Since… I don’t know! It should be safe!”
>Gilda shakes her head
>”Look, dude. You can talk to the police if you want, but they’re mostly here to kick out the methheads. I don’t think they’re gonna bust anyone for peaking at your undies.”
>You can only gape
“But that’s… that’s so… that’s so unfair! That creates a completely unfair social dynamic! You’re telling me that I’m just a walking piece of meat that any boy can just ogle at his will, and—“
>”That’s pretty much what I’m tellin’ you. If you’ve got a problem with it, hit ‘em.”
“I’m not going to hit anybody!”
>”Then good luck gettin’ ‘em not to look up your skirt.”
“That’s not how this is supposed to work!”
>Gilda grins at you
>”That’s how everything works, dude. Either you scare ‘em or you get someone else to scare ‘em. And I don’t think the police give a shit, so…”
“So this entire place is basically just a giant creep-fest. Great.”
>”I mean, yeah, dude. It’s a fuckin’ carnival. At least half these assholes worship rapping clowns.”
“That’s not an excuse!”
>”Maybe not. But you’re here, dude. Might as well relax and enjoy it.”
“I can’t enjoy it when weirdos are s-staring at me! That’s awful!”
>”So you’re gonna let a few perverts win? The horny highschool kids get to control when you have fun?”
“No! I’m just… I’m mad!”
>”Then kick someone’s ass!”
>A toothy grin spreads across Gilda’s face
>”We could totally fuck those two up. I know where we can get a couple of rebar bars. One hit from one of those, and—“
“I’m n-not going to beat anyone’s ass. I’m gonna file a complaint. Where’s the security?”
>Gilda rolls her eyes, and points you in the direction of a booth with a cardboard “Security” sign hanging from its door
>You head over, and file your complaint

>It’s easier than you think; just a few forms to fill out, then a slightly-chubby police officer heads over to deal with the two
>Who are named Snip and Snails, apparently; you can’t help but chuckle a little at the non-irony in that
>When you walk out of the tent, though, your righteous indignation starts to fade, leaving just feeling a little…
>”What’s up? Not feeling as great as you thought you would?”
“Not really…”
>”Told ya, dude. Shoulda just whooped their asses.”
“I told you, I’m not whooping anyone’s ass.”
>”Then you can just ignore them.”
“I can’t ignore what they did!”
>”Why not?”
“Because it’s gross!”
>”So? Just forget about it, dude. Fuckin’ officer Krupke or whatever will deal with their asses.”
“How am I supposed to ignore something like that? It makes me feel digusting?”
>”Fuck if I know, dude. You’re at a fair, right? There’s gotta be something that’ll take your mind off it. Just, you know… enjoy yourself. Don’t let some idiots ruin your day.”
“Easier said than done.”
>Gilda shrugs, concealing a tiny smile
>”Hey, I’ve got an idea.”
>She throws her arm around your shoulders then starts to march, steering you away from the security tent and back towards the central hub of the fair
>”How about you buy me some wings?”
“W-what? No, I’m not gonna buy you wings…”
>”Aw, c’mon. I saved you back there.”
>You frown
“Right, you did. Okay, I’ll get some wings.”
>”Bitchin’. There’s a fucking killer wing place over on that end. Just hope you’re okay with spicy stuff.”

>You’re not
>You buy yourself and Gilda a boat of wings (you think it’s a Midwest thing, serving food in white-paper boats, such that the sauce inevitably eats through the material and ends up making an ungodly mess) and the two of you meander your way towards the picnic tables
>Though you try one of the wings, the resulting pain is so great that you decide you’d rather skip lunch than try to force any more down
>Gilda, however, mows the bonéd chunks of meat down like there’s no tomorrow, pausing to wipe her cheeks free of sauce only when absolutely necessary
>”God DAMN that is good!”

Will have more of this tomorrow.
>all while someone somewhere, just out of view, is dropping F-bombs at their kids
[vietnam flashbacks]

why you have to do this mango liking the story so far
I will always hate those little fuckers.
>>When you walk out of the tent, though, your righteous indignation starts to fade, leaving just feeling a little…
I like this Twilight, not really that much of a pish-posh kid.
I am cold and I can't feel my legs.
>Your head, legs, and everything in between groan in protest, yet you carry on nonetheless.
>The perfectly mown grass of CHS contrasts with the cloudy skies overhead, the nice weather allowing the student body to eat lunch wherever they please.
>It’s still shady, but far too bright for your taste.
>Everything’s too fucking bright.
>For you on any other day this would be irrelevant.
>But this isn’t any other day.
>You crack your neck, having already seen the somewhat familiar group out in the distance.
>Under one of the few trees that adorned the landscape surrounding CHS.
>A thought hits you as the distance between them and you lessens with every step: what if you aborted the mission?
>You could always just thank Twilight later when you see at the lockers and be done with it then.
>Nothing wrong with that, right?
>You see no problem with that.
>Alright, it’s dec—
>You’re heading home after this.
>Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.
>Maybe that’ll help ease away any ill feelings they harbored towards you for getting into last night’s pickle?
>You turn away from the ground and begin to make way for the front of the school, thoughts already running to how you’ll bike home with all your dizzy-spells.
>Maybe a buss?
>Do you even have any funds left?
>The sound of hastily approaching footsteps amidst the grass pulls you from your thoughts.
>You turn your head and stop to see a familiar face before you, though you notice the thin layer of sweat on her face.
>Did she really get tuckered out running over here?
>”Hey, Anon…”
>Twilight takes a moment to rest, legitimately rest while hunching over on her knees, but she quickly looks back up with a weary smile.
“Hey, Twilight, what’s up?”
>”Oh, uh… just wanted to say hi, you know?”
>Her smile is more than a bit nervous, though this elicits a small chuckle while you lightly slap her shoulder.
“Not much, was just thinking about thanking you for last night, though.”
>She gives a small raspberry before shaking her hands and head, looking off to the side.
>”Oh, that? That was nothing, don’t worry about it.”
>You shrug.
“Not many people would’ve given a passed out Anon a ride back home… Speaking of which, how’d you find out my address?”
>”Oh, that? Heheheh…”
>There she goes again, rubbing her arm and looking off to the side.
>”A friend told me.”
>You stare at her for a moment before letting it drop, instead going for a shrug.
“Well, still, thank you for doing that, means a lot to know that there’s at least one person who doesn’t think I’m an asshole.”
>She seems to drop her nervousness at that, shooing off your worries with a flick of the hand.
>”I mean, the girls also helped me quite a bit, as, well, I was a bit… Frantic, so to speak.”
>You raise a brow, letting the silence sink in for a few moments.
“So you’re telling me that your friends actually managed to give a collective fuck about lil’ old Anon?” you say with a small chuckle. “Reeks of bullshit to me, almost like you’re selling yourself short.”
>Her eyes adopt a sort of expression that borders genuine.
>”Well, I mean… Yes?”
>”You do know that people still care about you, yes?”
>She doesn’t know.
>Too young, too green.
“It was probably just pity coming out rather than any genuine like. I mean, would you leave Flash passed out at a party?”
>”Uhhh, yeah?”
>You blink at that, eyes darting to and fro for a moment before you shake your head.
“What about Snips?”
“Big Mac?”
>”Nobody would mess with him.”
“Maybe Vinyl…?”
>Smug as shit, she replies.
>”You do realize that she does that every party, right?”
>And, sadly, you can’t refute that.
>Doesn’t stop you from flashing a grimace before shaking your head to recompose yourself.
>”Not really?”
>You purse your lips and gesture for her to continue.
>”I mean, you do realize that Pinkie, Fluttershy, and Sunset still care about you after everything, right?”
>You act without thinking and jerk your head back, though this only gets you a small nod from Twilight.

Well that's all I've got right now, whipped that up right quick this morning, though I'm a bit pressed for time. Gotta' go run for a Navy meeting here in a few, so I'll post more later when I have time to continue.
never got my chance to repay the kindness of an editor. went out of his way to do a favor. and I blew it by not posting and fidgeting with details.
Do you like the blueberry uniforms?
Am actually yet to ship out to boot camp, I do that Sept. 5th, so I don't exactly have a uniform as of yet. By the time I'm graduating from camp, though, the Navy ought to have replaced the blue digitals with more standardized BDU's, battle dress uniforms, that resemble the Army's and USMC's green and black digital design. Because, well, it's rather hard to see a seaman who falls overboard if he's blending into the water with his blue BDU...

For those reading my "Cousin Anon" story, expect a dump in just a moment, just have to finish a few edits before it's ready.
>Your head, legs, and everything in between groans in protest, yet you carry on nonetheless.
>The perfectly mown grass of CHS contrasts with the cloudy skies overhead, the nice weather allowing all but forcing the student body to come and enjoy nature’s bounty.
>The beautiful weather wouldn’t have bothered you any other day.
>But this isn’t any other day.
>You crack your neck, having already seen the somewhat familiar group out in the distance, all of them enjoying the weather from under a tree.
>A thought hits you as the distance between them and you lessens with every step: what if you just thanked them later?
>They always hang out around Sunset’s locker just after school for a norm of five minutes, and you’d only need a single minute to show thanks.
>Nothing wrong with that, right?
>Alright, it’s decid—
>Wait, you’re heading home after this.
>Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.
>Maybe that’ll help ease away any ill feelings they harbored towards you for getting into last night’s pickle?
>...Maybe not.
>You turn away and begin to make way for the front of the school, brain already churning over how you’ll bike home with all your dizzy-spells.
>A buss, maybe?
>Wait, that’d imply you have any cash on hand.
>The sound of hastily approaching footsteps amidst the grass pulls you from your thoughts.
>You stop and turn your head to see a familiar face, though you also notice the thin layer of sweat on her face.
>Did she really get tuckered out running over here?
>”Hey, Anon…”
>Twilight takes a moment to rest, hands on knees and all, but she looks back up with a weary smile a few moments later.
“Hey, Twilight, what’s up?”
>”Oh, uh… just wanted to say hi, you know?”
>Her smile is more than a bit nervous, which, of course, is followed by a nervous chuckle.
“Not much, was just thinking about thanking you for last night, though.”
>She blows a small raspberry before shaking her head and looking off to the side.
>”Oh, that? That was nothing, don’t worry about it.”
>You shrug.
“Not many people would’ve given a passed out Anon a ride back home… Speaking of which, how’d you figure out my address?”
>”Oh, that? Heheheh…”
>A weak shrug is had, followed by a subtle lowering of the head as she looks at you.
>”A friend told me.”
>You stare at her for a moment before letting it drop, instead going for a shrug.
“Well, still, thank you for doing that, means a lot to know that there’s at least one person who doesn’t think I’m an asshole.”
>She rises back to full height at that, her nervousness slowly being replaced by a cheeky smile.
>”I mean, the girls also helped me quite a bit, as, I was a bit, well… frantic.”
>You raise a brow, letting the silence sink in for a few moments.
“So you’re telling me that your friends actually managed to give a collective fuck about lil’ old Anon?” you say with a small chuckle, giving her shoulder a light slap while you’re at it.
>Her eyes turn wide for a fraction of a moment before they slightly narrow with a slight tinge of concern.
>”Well, I mean… Yes?”
>”You do know that people still care about you, right?”
>She doesn’t know.
>She’s too young, too green.
“It was probably just pity coming out rather than any genuine care. I mean, would you leave Flash passed out at a party?”
>”Uhhh, yeah?”
>You blink at that, eyes darting to and fro for a moment before you shake your head.
“What about Snips?”
“Big Mac?”
>”Nobody would mess with him.”
“Maybe Vinyl…?”
>Smug as shit, she replies.
>”You do realize that she does that every party, right?”
>And, sadly, you can’t refute that.
>Doesn’t stop you from flashing a grimace before shaking your head to collect your bearings, though.
>She blows a small raspberry before shaking her head and looking off to the side.
>”Oh, that? That was nothing, don’t worry about it.”
>You shrug.
“Not many people would’ve given a passed out Anon a ride back home… Speaking of which, how’d you figure out my address?”
>”Oh, that? Heheheh…”
>A weak shrug is had, followed by a subtle lowering of the head as she looks at you.
>”A friend told me.”
>You stare at her for a moment before letting it drop, instead going for a shrug.
“Well, still, thank you for doing that, means a lot to know that there’s at least one person who doesn’t think I’m an asshole.”
>She rises back to full height at that, her nervousness slowly being replaced by a cheeky smile.
>”I mean, the girls also helped me quite a bit, as, I was a bit, well… frantic.”
>You raise a brow, letting the silence sink in for a few moments.
“So you’re telling me that your friends actually managed to give a collective fuck about lil’ old Anon?” you say with a small chuckle, giving her shoulder a light slap while you’re at it.
>Her eyes turn wide for a fraction of a moment before they slightly narrow with a slight tinge of concern.
>”Well, I mean… Yes?”
>”You do know that people still care about you, right?”
>She doesn’t know.
>She’s too young, too green.
“It was probably just pity coming out rather than any genuine care. I mean, would you leave Flash passed out at a party?”
>”Uhhh, yeah?”
>You blink at that, eyes darting to and fro for a moment before you shake your head.
“What about Snips?”
“Big Mac?”
>”Nobody would mess with him.”
“Maybe Vinyl…?”
>Smug as shit, she replies.
>”You do realize that she does that every party, right?”
>And, sadly, you can’t refute that.
>Doesn’t stop you from flashing a grimace before shaking your head to collect your bearings.
“Doesn’t matter, you know what I’m talking about.”
>You purse your lips and gesture for her to say it is whatever she has to say.
>”I mean, you do realize that Pinkie, Fluttershy, and Sunset still care about you after everything, right? It wasn’t pity that made us help you out, Anon.”
>You act without thinking and jerk your head back, though this only gets you a small nod from Twilight, a sad smile now on her face.
>You raise a hand and shake your head before she can continue.
>And, for once, you’re left without much to say, and it’s your turn to stare at the dirt, not really wanting to explain to the girl why she’s wrong.
>You sigh and straighten yourself, offering her a small smile as you do so.
“You’re good, I’m just a bit tired is all.”
>You go to rub the back of your head, but are quickly, and painfully, reminded of the cause for your early retreat from school today.
>She is taken aback by that, brows going high for a moment before she takes a step closer, inspecting your head with critical eyes.
>”Concussion!? When’d you have time to get a concussion?”
>She begins to circle you, adopting a sort of low, almost frantic voice as she begins to rumble to herself about… whatever it is Twilight likes to mumble about.
“From the party? Must’a fell over or got in a fight while I was out of it, because I sure as hell don’t remember anything.”
>She seems to ignore you for a moment, tapping her lips with a lone finger while staring pointedly at the ground.
“Recognized a few of the symptoms myself and went to Redheart just to make sure. She gave me a pass to go home, was just going to say thanks to you all before heading out.”
>You offer a smile before taking a step backwards, jabbing your thumb out towards the front of the school.
“Talk to you later?”
>Twilight tilts her head slightly, still somewhat in deep thought, before beginning to chew on her lip while eyes start to dart to and fro.
>When you wait for a moment, thumb still in the air and everything, she eventually comes to with a snap of her fingers.
>Raising a brow, you look at her for an odd moment as she begins to pantomime some scribbling.
>You shrug and produce a slip a page of paper from your backpack quickly enough.
>Twilight immediately snatches it from your hands before scribbling something down.
>A small blush is on her face when she returns the paper, though you decide to ignore the small amount of trembling in her hand.
>Raising a brow again, you take the piece of paper and read it, though a small smile forms on your lips before you can help it.
>”J-just in case, you know? C-call or text me if you ever get yourself in a pinch… Or need anyone to talk to, alright?”
>Whatever thoughts you had before are all replaced with a pseudo-high, a small chuckle forcing itself out of your mouth as you look at the quirky sophomore.
>A genuine, if not nervous as all hell, smile is placed on her mug, her left arm being rubbed all the while as another nervous giggle leaves her.
>You smack her playfully on the shoulder, bemused still at her skittish nature.
“I don’t know what made you take such an interest in lil old me,” you say before jabbing a thumb at CHS, “but thank you, you’re worth the whole damn bunch put together.”
>Her face lights up at that, the young woman visibly relieved at your words.
>She sees you off with a small wave, though you turn around a moment after heading off to see her running like a bat outta’ hell back to her group.
>Heh, strange girl.
>Stranger more for putting effort into be friends with you.
>The trip home, unsurprisingly, takes much longer than you’d like.
>Dizzy spells, sudden loss of breath, and the ever present bouts of exhaustion all turn your mile and a half walk home into the thing of nightmares, though you arrive nonetheless.
>You take a moment to throw your bag in the usual corner before feeling something terrible churn in your stomach.
>You know this sensation all too well, your legs moving on instinct as you move towards the kitchen sink.
>...Only to have a pang of disgust and anger run through you see the sink stacked high with a myriad of pots and plates.
>And so you run off to the bathroom, horrible taste of stomach acid and chunky… stuff coming up all at once, yourself only having just enough time to lift the bowl before it all comes pouring out.
>It burns, oh it burns, but it ends after only five heaves.
>After dry heaving for three times, though, you come to a realization: you’re exhausted.
>So, so exhausted.
>Eventually you make to stand and make a tactical retreat from the bathroom, trundling through the knee-high piles of ‘Still useful stuff!’ that dad consistently adds to.
>You arrive to your ‘bed’ after only a few instances of almost tripping and breaking your neck.
>Throwing the bundle of worn and ripped blankets over your form, not even bothering to undress fully, you relax into the comforter that substitutes for any mattress.
>Pulling a blanket over your face to ward off a particularly annoying fruit fly, you soon find comfort in the form of a dreamless sleep.
>You awake several hours later in a daze, feeling a certain ache in your throat and the beginnings of a headache.
>You get up and take a trip to the sink, managing to fill up your usual water bottle up with some tap before heading back to your bed, though you realize something rather unpleasant.
>Seems you’ve slept all day, if the darkened curtains are anything to go by.
>Well shit.
>Seems that going back to sleep isn’t on the table, as you’ve never been able to fall asleep after waking up, so you settle for the next best thing at the moment.
>You plop on your letterman and shoes before heading outside and closing the door behind you, though not before grabbing a little red box.
>And, man, is it fucking cold outside.
>You place a cigarette in your mouth before lighting it up, wondering if your two day gap had been the reason for the headaches today.
>Growing ever restless, you reach inside your right pocket for your phone, though there comes something weird.
>Crinkling, namely from a piece of paper.
>Oh yeah, Twilight's number.
>Shrugging, you pull out your phone and plug the earphones in before opening up the messaging app.
>You glance at the time.
>Should you risk it?
>You muddle over that for a moment before shrugging and muttering a quick, “Why not?” and tapping away.
”I think I died, sorry.”
>You chuckle at your own mental retardation before taking another inhale of the cancer stick, yourself now leaning over the fourth story railing.
>Glancing down at your phone, however, reveals something much, much funnier.
>There’s a large R right next to your previous message, indicating that she’s read the message.
>What appears at the top, right where you’ve placed her name, however, is where the comedic gold is.
>Twilight is typing…
>She just deleted her former message.
>Twilight is typing…
>Twilight is typing…
>And it just keeps going on.
>The comedic value of it seems to diminish after your cigarette dies out entirely, though, so you speed up the process exponentially by giving the socially awkward girl a helping hand in the conversation with a hastily typed text.
“Hey’o, Twilight, it’s Anon. Sorry I didn’t text earlier to let you know that I didn’t forget to add your number, just woke up around seven minutes ago.”
>Twilight is typing…
>You briefly wonder if she’s contacting one of her friends as how to go about talking to males.
>You’ve never seen her conversate with the other sex, now that you really think about it…
>Well, there’s Flash, but does that really qualify?
>”Hey, Anon! :D”
>”How are you? Good, I hope? You didn’t seem all that well earlier today, and you first message, believe it or not, kind of scared me.”
>Huh, seems you’ve finally met a woman who cares about being grammatically correct.
“Eh, about as well as I can be, all things considered. You? Also, you really thought that I died? Like Virgil would just walk up to me with a phone and say, “Ay, you get one call,”?”
>”I don’t know, Virgil seemed like a nice guy…”
>You snigger at that, genuinely amused.
>”But I’m doing fine as well, just having a sleepover with the girls right now at my house.”
>”You ever watch Shaun of the Dead? Dash is making us watch it… ( ゚ Д゚)”
>You move to respond, but she’s too quick.
>”It’s really scary, yet makes us laugh way too much. Like, Fluttershy is hiding under her blanket right now…”
>Then there comes a picture of one bulging mound beneath a blanket, just a bit blurry from motion.
>You can’t help but chuckle at that, lighting another fag one while you’re at it.
“Are you dead ass right now?”

>There comes another image, though this time you can see Twilight’s hand lifting up a bit of the green blanket, the flash of the picture showing a… rather revealing image of Fluttershy’s backside as she lays in the bowing position, head wrapped in her arms.
>Thank God she was wearing full pajamas instead of short shorts.
>...Not what you’re asking about, but alright.
>”Yep, she’s terrified.”
>You decide not to point out that she just sent you what 99% of your male friends would consider fap material.
“Damn, I mean, I knew she was squeamish as all hell, but isn’t she like turning seventeen in like, what, two weeks?”
>”Next Sunday, actually, but close enough.”
“Close enough indeed, but rewind for a little bit: you asked if I ever saw Shaun of the Dead?”
>”Yeah, why? You never seen it? It’s really quite great, definitely should see it when you have the time (^v^).”
>You temporarily question if she’s as smart as everyone says.
>You’re halfway through sending a message, but you quickly decide against it.
>You scroll through your old image gallery, flicking by a number of painful images from years prior, up until you reach a familiar video.
>After you send it, though, you feel compelled to rewatch it, as if you’re beside her.
>Shrugging, you tap it and watch the memories unfold.

All I got for now, may or may not write more tomorrow. And, yay, Anon&Sci are semi-officially friends. Now we can get into the real meat of the story... Paste: https://pastebin.com/phPMVFcM

And sorry for calling this "Cousin Anon" in an earlier reply, as I wasn't thinking straight, just put down the first title I remembered.
Fun fact about the blueberries, the uniform was originally thought to be fireproof but it actually melts on the skin.
Haven't been to /nst/ in a long time, glad to see there are still new writers around. Continuing to monitor.
I would certainly force her to put on some pants if I was her father.
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Welp, that's two and a half hours I'm never getting back. Probably shit and should've been writing green for ya'll in the meantime, but oh well. Went for a Looney Tunes vibe with the circles, if you're wondering why it looks like dogshit.
>while having a concussion
That's tempting fate, Anon.

>Twilight is typing
Too cute.

Good update.
Also, the first 3 (three) posts and a 1/7th are from the previous update.
Remember the Alamo.
>Welp, that's two and a half hours I'm never getting back
well you got two and a half hours of experience, don't give up!
Vote for me or die!
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>shining armor is playing his loud ass music again
that artstyle looks extremely familiar but I cant think of it
also nice trips
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Is this Andrew Miracles?
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idk maybe
ive drawn scitwi before
Maybe it was the Barneyfag, he might have gotten tired of fucking his dog.
If you're actually retarded enough to believe that, then you might as well think that Colbert actually gets angry at TWO SCOOPS.
Why is most of the well written SciTwi green either SciTwi x Sunset or SciTwi and Anon as Rick and Morty?
>namesearching yourself.

Also obviously not Colbert, but democucks actually got mad at that. It's hilarious how much they grasp at straws for being mad at a sitting President.
I want Sugarcoat to be my autism caregiver.
There was one a writefag wrote for some other thread about Twilight using magic to make her breasts bigger and then rape Anon but it's not in the archive. Also Sugarlight has Twilight being a dom half of the time, but that will never be finished either.

Because most greens are SciTwi x Sunset?
If you like traps, there's this thing I did a while back. https://pastebin.com/R053UHqg
Your reverse trap stuff is better.
I still want that Twilight in jail, Jeff.
Definitely. This was one of my weaker stories, hence why it didn't get finished.


Anyway, gonna upload a few posts of this story and then head out for the night.

>She slams her fist on the table, then cracks open a can of Bud Light, downing the whole thing in three gulps
>You have no idea where the can came from, but you have the sneaking suspicion it was hidden somewhere in her leather jacket
>She looks at you, her eyes slightly glazed with content
>”Not hungry?”
“Not particularly.”
>”Damn, dude. You still messed up about that whole thing?”
>She grins
>”Well, I know what’ll cheer ya up. Let’s go ride something legit! I hear the Wheel o’ Fire is finally up.”
“God no. I’d rather not throw up my breakfast.”
>”Aw c’mon. It’s awesome!”
>You shake your head
>”Fine. What’ll be more your speed, the Ferris Wheel?”
“I don’t want to ride anything.”
>”Jeez. You sure? Ferris Wheel’s pretty cool. We’d be all alone.”
>She swear you detect a hint of a purr in her voice, but you choose to ignore it
“I’m not feeling it. I think I’ll just wait here until my shift starts.”
>”Hah! Hell no you won’t. C’mon, uh…”
>You realize she still hasn’t figured out your name, despite it being printed on your Sound Tech badge in tiny font
>”…Smudge. C’mon Smudge.”
>She grabs your arm again, hauling you to your feet
>”You got a little smudge on your glasses.”
>Now that she mentions it, you do; a line of stray sweat has left a long, gray mark across the left lens
>You pull away from Gilda, again, and wipe the lenses of your glasses on your shirt
>She leans against a tree, watching, as she rolls her tongue between her teeth
“I should probably go check in with the Sound Techs. They might have something they need me to do.”
>Gilda’s eyes you so strangely it’s as if you just grew a second head
>”Wait, what? They didn’t give you any work to do yet, right?”
“Not yet.”
>”And you’re gonna go ask for *more work*?”
>You shrug
“It’s better than waiting around here watching you eat hot wings.”
>”Ouch. Still not settled down, huh?”
>Something snaps inside of you, and the tiny damn that’s been holding back all that indignant University Girl rage breaks and sends the whole messy, squawky tirade flooding out right at Gilda
“I’m s-still not over what they did to me, and I’m not going to be! They ruined my entire day! I’m a human being, I have rights! They’re treating me like I’m meat! It makes me feel gross, and violated, and unsafe, and… and… and worthless, and…”
>You stumble backwards, and sit down heavily on the grass, realizing that you’re shaking
>Gilda blinks, for a moment, her teeth clamped around the tip of her tongue
>Then slowly walks towards you, and sits by your side
>”Okay, yeah, that… that sucks.”
>The jeering edge is gone from her voice now
>She stares out over the hills, taking a strange interest in the flight paths of the bees that swarm around an overflowing trash can
>”Listen, Smudge… I don’t know, man. People here are just kinda like that.”
>”That’s putting it nicely. No matter where ya go, you’re gonna run into weirdos. Don’t let that ruin your fun, you know what I mean?”
“That’s easy for you to say…”
>”Is it?”
>She takes her eyes off the bee-swarm and locks them on yours
>”I’ve gotten my fair share of run-ins with pricks around here. Checkitout.”
>Gilda hooks her fingers under the hem of her shirt and lifts it up to about mid-chest, revealing an expanse of rough, muscled stomach and the faintest hint of where your breasts start
>You find yourself staring at her, for more than one reason
>Tiny, pocked scars dot her abdomen, looking like angry little splotches of ink set amongst her otherwise-pale skin
>”Came here when I was like twelve. Couple carnies kept grabbing my ass. I freaked out and hit one of them with a rock, broke his jaw. His friend freaked out, and shot me with a BB gun about twenty times.”
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”
>”Ha! Don’t be, Smudge. It was worth it.”
>She lets her shirt fall, slowly, but it doesn’t fully come to rest against the waistband of her pants
>It gets bunched up just above her navel, allowing you view of a tantalizing little strip of her stomach
>Gilda looks over at you, though, and you immediately avert your gaze, hoping your face doesn’t look red
>”You should seen the look on that guy’s face while he was tryin’ to pick up his teeth. Priceless.”
“Well. I don’t think I’ll be breaking anyone’s jaw.”
>”That’s not what I’m sayin’. Just, like… these people creep on you. Sure. But letting ‘em ruin your day isn’t gonna fix anything. Just fuck ‘em up in whatever way you can.”
>She bumps her shoulder against yours, and the resulting momentum transfer nearly knocks you over
>”You fucked those two over good. So just… find a way to ‘njoy the rest of the day, okay? That way, they’re like, I dunno, doubly fucked.”
>You sigh
“I guess you’re right. But this place still isn’t really… it’s not my thing.”
>”Ah, you just ain’t seen all of it. C’mon.”
>Gilda jumps to her feet, arching her back until it cracks
>When she turns back to you, instead of grabbing your arm, she holds out a hand
>For the first time, you realize she’s wearing those fingerless weightlifter gloves
>Something about that makes you feel… well, you’re not really sure how to describe it
>Giddy, in the way you used to when hanging posters of Sapphire Shores up in your room as a young girl
>You take her hand, and Gilda’s muscle-coiled fingers curl gently around your hand, lifting you into a standing position
>”I got some shit I think you’ll like.”
“Alright. But I need to be at my shift by 7:45.”
>”Yeah, yeah. Just c’mon.”
>She starts ahead, pulling you along behind her

>Now that your mind has calmed down a bit, you’re able to get a slightly better look at Gilda
>She’s huge, especially for a girl
>It didn’t really strike you before, but now that you’re just sort of casually walking beside her, damn
>The leather jacket is clearly cut for a woman’s figure much different than hers, and her biceps seem to place the material in a state of constant strain
>In fact, if you peer a little closer at her sleeves, you can even spot a few popped stitches
>The same thick layers of muscle continue up her shoulders and down her back, where the jacket seems stretched to bursting by the prominence of her deltoids
>Following down further, the small of her back seems to blend in one long wave of muscle into her hips, which look to be about one and a half times as wide as your shoulders
>Her thighs/buttocks threaten her cargo pants in a similar way as her arms to her sleeves, bulging and nearly tearing the fabric as they flex
>”Smudge. Yo, Smudge?”
“G-gah! Yeah, what’s up?”
>You immediately focus your eyes back on a neutral 90-degree angle
>Gilda smirks
>”You payin’ attention? We’re here.”
>She steps aside, waving a surprisingly posh “welcome” gesture towards the fair’s only (but mercifully) air-conditioned building
“The Ponyville Art Gallery?”
>”Yeah. Figured a fancy chick like you would like it, I dunno.”
“Heh, well… it’s probably better than anything we’ll find out here, at least…”

>She holds the door for you as you step inside
>The art gallery is held in a somewhat cramped, but wonderfully chilly multi-purpose building in the center of the fairgrounds
>Everything inside is all brick walls and drop ceilings, giving the building itself a somewhat drab appearance
>Fortunately, though, there’s more than enough color splashed across the hundreds of canvases, glass orbs, floral arrangements, and weird, abstract pieces
>”Ha. Knew you’d like it.”
>She stomps in, her boots clacking against the linoleum as she prowls catlike from table to table
>”Not gonna lie, I really don’t get this stuff.”
“It’s not that hard to figure out.”
>”Yeah, smart-ass? Then what’s that one mean?”
>She points towards a painting of hands made out of the twisted-together stems of flowers, each of which has petals colored vaguely to look like differently-ethnic skintones
“Probably something about how people are molded and formed by the nature around them, but they also have to cultivate and care for it.”
>Gilda opens her mouth to make a snappy retort, but falters
>”That… makes a lot of sense. Shit, kid. You’re smart. Guess all that college is paying off.”
“Did I tell you I was going to college?”
>”Nope. But it’s not hard to figure out. I mean jeeze, dude, look at you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean!?”
>Gilda just smirks, and you scowl at her in return

>The two of you wind your way through the art house for almost two hours, examining every single piece of art
>And every time you find a new one, Gilda asks the same question
>”What’s that one mean?”
>At first, you’re absolutely sure she’s subtly teasing you
>And she probably is, at least at first
>But she never hits you with any snappy retorts, more toothy smirks, or anything like that
>She just listens to your explanations, staring intently at the painting as you prattle about the human condition, man’s relationship with God, or whatever
>And when you get to the last few paintings, she even offers her own few words
>”That on’e totally about love.”
>Not a difficult thing to grasp; the painting shows a red, raw heart, skewered to a wall by arrows
>Each arrow is draped with a coil of paper, bearing unreadable words and marked with a lipsticky kiss-mark
>”Yeah, yeah. Definitely about love. It’s like, how you can love someone so hard that the things they say just fuck you up.”
>She smiles at you, immensely proud of herself, and you get the vague sense she’s waiting for you to congratulate her
“Seems like it. Or maybe how the things we say can hurt someone without us being aware of it. Or how someone’s words can lock you into a feeling a certain way, nailing your heart to a certain emotion.”
>”Whoa, yeah.”
>She turns to the bored-looking lady, a mousy thing with her hair tied up in a stern bun
>”How much for this one?”
>The lady looks up, surprised
>”I like the one with the arrows an’ heart, it’s awesome. Can I buy it?”
>”Oh, sure. It’s two-hundred—“
>”WHOO. Okay, heh, sorry, never mind.”
>Gilda grabs you by the arm and makes a beeline for the exit, dragging a very confused You behind her

Final part coming soon.
cute family
Gotta read this when I wake up.
It was a long time since I last got shitfaced while playing MGS3.
>The footage is a bit fuzzy, but not too bad as to where you can’t discern the obvious sight that is Principal Celestia’s face, her eyes closed as her mouth gives out a light snore.
>She wears a shirt that you haven’t seen her wear in some quite time.
>It’s a stark black tank top, the only thing noticeable about it being the single and bolded white word that runs down the middle: Director.
>Then there comes a snickering from just behind the camera and to the right, which is followed by the video panning right to show the smiling faces of Grizzly and an old friend, of which you’ve not seen since the day it all went to shit.
>It’s kind of weird, seeing his face after all this time.
“Shut the fuck up, retards.”
>Your voice is interrupted by fits of giggles as well, and your voice sounds like the closest to breaking out in full laughter.
>They give you two thumbs up.
>The video pans back to Celestia, though your green hand is now present in the video, of which closes in to the left of Celestia’s snoring face.
>Placing the hand holding some rather conspicuous near the side of her face, there comes another fit of giggles from the younger Anonymous before he clears his throat and speaks.
“Celestia, Celestia!”
>Her eyes pop open at that, somewhat red from lack of rest, but she doesn’t move as she detects that something’s pressed against the left side of her face in a familiar position.
>She thinks it’s a phone and doesn’t bother looking at it.
“Call for you, urgent!”
>Her eyes go wide, darting to you before looking forward, her voice tired but attentive as she speaks into the flip flop.
>”Hello? Principal Celestia speaking.”
>She somehow doesn’t notice your shaking hand as it holds the flip flop, nor does she notice your poorly-concealed sniggering.
>Again, she tries, a completely serious expression still on her face all the while.
>The video turns right to show Grizzly and Singsong, but, before a moment passes, Singsong breaks and completely loses it.
>Celestia’s eyes flicker left to see what the ruckus is about, but this is followed by Grizz following Singsong to the ground, both clutching their sides and slapping each other in merriment.
>It’s only natural that the younger Anonymous couldn’t have kept a straight face at that, and so your laughing booms out in the video.
>Celestia looks at you with a tired and confused look, then at the ‘phone’, then back at you.
>An exhausted look takes over Celestia’s face, but not before she puts on a weary smile.
>Her hand shoots out towards the camera, though goes to the left.
>It didn’t take much force to send you falling to the ground, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as you laid there, breathlessly laughing and clapping like a seal.
>Damn good times, Shaun of the Dead.
>Damn good.
>The video cuts off abruptly, another fit of your laughing sounding off through the phone, but not before the weary, if not bemused, sound of Celestia’s voice comes in.
>”You goof…”
>Her voice echoes through your mind, bringing back a plethora of memories of the three ragtag friends.
>Their laughter was a staple in your everyday life, especially Celestia.
>You tear yourself from one memory, one in which you filled her disk to the brim with gummy bears, to fill Twilight in about what exactly it was she just watched.
“That was two years ago, back when I was a sophomore, the school’s play was Shaun of the Dead. Heavily, heavily censored mind you, but we still had a bunch of gore makeup and whatnot. Favorite play I’ve ever been in, that’s for damn sure.”
>You shiver for just a moment at the harsh breeze, only to confide in your cigarette again before putting attention back on your phone.
>”...Sunset just confirmed you’re not lying. Why does nobody tell me these things? I didn’t even know we used to have a theater program (;_:).”
“No offense, but you never really struck me as the type of person who likes plays or musicals.”
>Twilight is typing…
>Twilight is typing.
>”Fair point.”
>You crack your neck before rolling your shoulders, unsure of how to spend the rest of the night.
>The grumble from your stomach is help enough to narrow down your options, though.
“I think I’ma head off for the night, go see if I can’t scrounge myself up a dinner, don’t want to keep you from your little get-together anywho. Was pretty fun, talk to you later?”
>Twilight is typing…
>”Of course, Anon! Don’t ever worry about interrupting, though, as I’ve always got time for a friend! Good night (^0^)/.”
>For the first time in a long while, you head into your home with a smile as you wonder exactly how you’ll find anything edible today.
>Being a senior at CHS, you’re allowed to take certain periods off, permitted you still have four classes and are a teacher's assistant for another one of your hours.
>Instead of relaxing with a nice nap in a secluded corner of the library, however, you’re stuck playing teacher’s assistant for your fifth hour.
“So, how do we get the length of this this side, provided we know the hypotenuse and angle C?”
>Of course, a purple hand shoots up the moment you quit talking, but you let the question linger for a moment.
“How about we give Twilight a break, class? Feels like a back and forth between me and her at this point.”
>Much to your surprise, though, someone actually accepts your challenge and slowly raises their hand.
“Ah, yes, Trixie?”
>”Trixie would propose that you would remember Sohcahtoa and solve it with sin?”
>You take a moment to smile at her, both glad and surprised that she’s finally studied the material.
>You also decide to ignore her shooting Twilight a smug smile.
“Very good, Trixie!”
>You begin to scribble down the basics of Sohcahtoa again, silence returning over the classroom as your turn around.
>Or, at least up until there comes a fit of boisterous laughing from behind your left.
>You don’t bother to show any signs of anger, but rather choose to continue writing out the next bit of the equation before turning on a heel and staring at the two culprits.
“So,” you say while gesturing with both arms wide open while looking the two in the eyes, “got somethin’ funny to share with the rest of the class?”
>Lyra flinches back at this, though your eyes quickly flicker off of her.
>She’s a good girl, just made a poor decision by sitting next to him.
>Said desk partner, however, you eye with ample attention while taking a few steps forward.
>He sniggers before giving you a cocky grin.
>Dropping your arms, you take a moment to slowly nod and set your piece of chalk down.
“Grizzly, you do realize that this is the third time today that you’ve laughed out loud and proved to be a distraction to the class, yes?”
>He shrugs in turn, giving a smile that knows damn well that his next words are a lie.
“And you do realize that there’s a chapter test tomorrow? One that this class seems to be woefully underprepared for, yes?”
“And you do realize that you’re currently failing this class, yes?”
>A number of the juniors adopt faces of “Oh shit, nigga!” while others chuckle into their hands, but Grizzly furrows his brow, subtle traces of a frown beginning to form.
>You snap your fingers a few times while pointing towards the small chair that’s off to the side of the first row, the chair and desk combo being one usually reserved for special needs students or disruptive children.
“Then come take a seat closer to the front of the class, just to make sure you’ll have no excuse to do badly on the text tomorrow.
>Grizzly, oddly enough, only stares at you.
>And you stare back, a lopsided smile now on your face as you lean back onto the chalkboard.
>”You haven’t changed.”
>If he expected a violent knee-jerk reaction, then he was sorely mistaken.
>You just shake your head and smile at him, now pointing at the tiny chair again.
“You can try insulting me again when you’re not failing two classes, Grizzly, now take your seat and be quiet.”
>The class, thankfully enough, goes by without further interruption.
>You announce that office hours after school are available, as per usual, but they all file out without any additional questions on the work or how to go about solving it.
>Sure, you were never a math person, but this is some really basic shit.
>You hate handing out F’s when grading for Cheerilee’s class, but you hate watching their willing negligence even more.
>Fucking idiots.
>”What was all that about?”
>You stop erasing the board and turn your head to see the prodigy of the class: one Twilight Sparkle.
>Sure, she’s only a sophomore, but she’s ahead a year in nearly every category, and she’s only needing to pass this trimester of precalc before being able to test out of it and move up to senior level math.
>Her eyes are worried, yet she doesn’t rub at her arm or refuse to meet your eyes.
>You know what she’s talking about before she even nudges her head at Grizzly’s seat.
“Oh, he just really got on my nerves today, don’t worry about it.”
>Your smile, however, is soon found faltering as her next words come out.
>”You didn’t always hate each other, did you?”
>You can only blink at her, surprised both by the question and her boldness to invade your privacy.
>”I was looking at that video you sent me last night, and I noticed how you seemed like a friend to him.”
>She takes a moment to rub the back of her neck.
>”Dash said that you two were once like brothers, even. Got me kind of sad, honestly…”
>You take a moment to look at her, then back at the door, then back at her.
>You think about telling her of the truth, but you speak without thinking.
“...Why are you care so much about me?”
>Your voice wasn’t aggressive at all, but only reeking with genuine curiosity.
>Twilight, however, continues to look at you with a somewhat saddened look.
>She takes a moment to let the silence sink in, but she eventually speaks after sucking in a gulp of air.
>”Because you were one of my first friends here?”
>You can only blink at her in response.
>”In walks little Twilight nobody into CHS halfway through the year, and all her classes are filled with jocks and idiots giving her dirty looks when she actually raise her hand or take notes…”
>She takes a moment to look down at the ground, more than a bit disheartened at the memories of how glum and alone she often looked, but she quickly looks up at you with a smile.
>”And then I met you.”
>She punches you playfully in the shoulder, now taking a moment to move to your side and lean back against the chalkboard, notebook still clutched against her chest.
>”Yeah, we started off slow at first, just a hi everyday while going through our lockers, but then we actually started talking. Talking, Anon, talking! They were some of… No, wait, they WERE the first conversations I had where somebody actually wanted to talk to me where they weren’t asking for my answers!”
>You begin to chuckle at the memories flooding your mind.
>...Jeez, have you really forgotten about all of this?
>I mean, sure, you never really paid the small talk much attention, but to completely forget all those talks where she would ramble on and on about her favorite anime, Spike, and Shining Armor?
>...Maybe you need to lay off the drugs.
“Heheheh… Now I guess you’re repaying the favor? Helping lil old Anon out when he’s down?”
>She jabs you in the side, but only hard enough to get another chuckle from both of you.
>”I’ve always wanted to know you better, Anon,” she says with a wistful tone, “but it’s not been until recently that… with the encouragement of friends was I able to overcome my fears and ask you to come to that soccer game, to see if you would consider me a true friend.”
>You shoot her a glance, your smile widening as you reach out and ruffle her hair.
“What’re you tryin’a make me do, kiddo? Tryin’a make lil old Anon cry, eh?”
>She can’t help but giggle and swat your hand away, though the damage is already done, her hair now resembling something akin to a mangy cat.
“But… thanks, Twilight. Been a long while since I’ve heard someone say somethin’ good about me, much less want to be my friend.”
>You slap her shoulder and remove yourself from the board, instead turning towards the door after shooting her a smile over your shoulder.
“Talk to you later?”
>”Y-yeah! C’ya, Anon!”
>With a small spring in your step, you head off to the library, rather pleased with how your day's going.
>The rest of the school day goes without trouble, thankfully.
>Neglecting to do your homework and papers due soon, however, you decide to lean back in your chair and prop your shoes up on the mahogany desk.
>You look away from the familiar math class, one of Cheerilee that you see at least once a day, and back to the ceiling.
>Man, tonight is going to be good.
>Apparently your hookup just got this new batch of high-end goods from some obscure group in the north, it’s supposed to make—
>You’re pulled from your thoughts as the door creaks open ever so slowly, of which creaks all the while like some wrought iron gate.
>A bit of light blue face and a purple eye peek out from around the corner to catch a glimpse of you, but you already recognize the newcomer.
“Well, hot damn!” you say while relieving your feet from the desk and making to stand. “Seems one of the juniors actually cares about their grades.”
>She eventually makes her way inside, looking more than a bit nervous at the situation, but a warm smile followed by a gesture towards one of the front-row seats eventually coaxes her into a calmer mood.
>”T-Trixie would like help on chapter five review.”
>You nod and walk to the board, grabbing a piece of chalk off of the thing’s frame.
“Sure thing, Trix.”
>She fidgets at the name, but offers no protest besides a slightly embarrassed smile.
>...Turns out that the tutoring thing isn’t too bad.
>Just like teaching the class when Cheerilee's off and gone, but a lot more one-on-one and easy for both you and the one with questions.
>Kind of pisses you off that she’s the first person to come to office hours after school since the start of the year, though, but whatever.
>That being said, Trixie was usually quiet when you went through the problems, though she occasionally had trouble with solving angles.
>All in all, far from an unenjoyable experience, as you would occasionally drop shit-talk upon her less competent classmates.
>She was all too happy to join in on that.
>It all ends too quickly, though, when she happens to notice a sudden darkening in the room.
>You both turned to look at the window to see the sun setting, much to the surprise of you both.
>She rushed to gather her things and retreat from the classroom, but not before offering you a grateful thanks and a smile.
>But that’s all in the past.
>All that matters right now is the little green pill in your hand.
>Sure, it costed everything in your wallet and a few favors, but that doesn’t really matter right now.
>All that matters is plopping the fucker in and chugging it down with some gin.
>You take your eyes off of the pill and look about for the bottle that’s been passed around the sorry lot of young stoners and fellow fuckups, though it’s quite hard to get a good look at anything.
>The only thing illuminating the room is a bit of moonlight coming in from between a crack in the curtain.
>You glance around for a moment before speaking.
“Hey, who’s got the bottle?”
>Your voice is quiet, what with Flash’s parents being asleep down the hallway and all, but it still rises above the gentle jazz emanating from the room’s speakers.
>”Over here, bro.”
>You lean over to Flash and take the bottle with a quick thanks, pill already in your mouth as you lift the thing up to your lips.
>...Only to realize that the bottle is empty, save for a few drops.
“God fucking dammit.”
>You make to stand and step over the myriad of stoners laying on the carpet and chuck the bottle in the trash, your legs carrying you to the kitchen and back, a mug of water in your hands.
>You’ve been to Flash’s house so many times at this point that you navigate it in total darkness, and it proves no different when you navigate your way back to his door.
>Drowning the pill down with half of the mug, you open the door and head inside.
>What you see, however, forces you to stop mid stride and stare, the light from the hallway illuminating the scene all too well.
Ayyy lmao, update. Probably will update tomorrow, as I've a graduation party tonight that'll be taking up a fair share of my usual writing time, but trust me when I say that there'll be an update tomorrow.

And sorry for that repost of earlier work, I dun' fukt up, no two ways about it. Will be more diligent in the future. Always learning, or some shit like that.

Have a good one, y'all.
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Fuck, forgot the Dropbox for y'all: https://pastebin.com/phPMVFcM . Sorry for spamming the thread up with this random big post and this extra message. Will try to make next update extra spicy for you glorious bastards.
Can't wait! This is a really good read so far.
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>EA quite literally ripped the PS2 Star Wars Battlefronts
We have found the path of God once more.
>>She slams her fist on the table, then cracks open a can of Bud Light, downing the whole thing in three gulps
Was this an Evangelion reference?
>and shot me with a BB gun about twenty times.”
Shit that hurts.
I will never be able to make sense of art post Picasso.
That man's conception was a mistake.

The diference in the writing style is that this one is more descriptive, right? I dig it.
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Just read the whole thing, pretty good, almost hard to believe this is your first green.

Piece of advice, when you change the POW you should make it more clear about who is talking, otherwise it breaks immersion.
Sorry, POV not POW.
Prisoners of war would have been weird.
E3 sucks already
/v/light when
Does she masturbate to Todd?
Shut the fuck up, Todd, not even Trixie would play Skyrim Remastered, pirated or otherwise.
I have imagined /v/Light many a time, not a pleasant thought.
I still think Trixie's rant against millennials and modern pop culture in that one story was the most spot on thing ever posted here.
I genuinely think most of what she said was right.
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tried doing a "chibi" or whatever for the first time
might color it soon idk
again your artstyle is really familiar and I cant think of it
do you upload your art anywhere? its gonna kill me if you dont tell me
yeah on deviantart but i have like 3 watchers lol
I'm going to be cosplaying Sci-Twi to a summer con, and was wondering if anyone had outfit ideas.
Male, but /fit/ as fuck. I'm super stumped as to what to pull together.
>peak physical condition
Ah, funny times.
Depends, you could do her Crystal Prep uniform, but try to get the tightest fit you possibly can find.
That way you will be /fit/Light Lord of the Gains.
You could also use her camp outfit, same concept.
yeah definitely go for her camp outfit.
short shorts will accentuate your muscly legs
assuming you dont skip leg day.
Ahhhhh, I laughed pretty hard at that.
Good call, her camp outfit is best (>not having every day be leg day)

Sci-Twi is my go-to especially because of glasses, but my friends are doing Mane Six and want me to be able to switch into Twilight mode, if you have any ideas on what to do for a summer (slutty? idfk) male Twilight outfit
ea is now doing gods work
unappreciated post
Oh, you want a male version. I don't think that would be as recognizable as her outfit though.
Embrace your inner cute girl, Anon, just dress as her.
Remember the tight fit, that's all that matters.
Unless your friends are also doing R63, then idk m8.
>Naturally, you’d like to call yourself a calm and collected man.
>...But you’ve also never seen a sight quite like this, so that thought goes right out the fucking window.
>There, just at your feet, lays one Snails foaming at the mouth, his eyes glazed over while his body jerks violently every which way.
>Wait, shit.
>That’s not foam, that’s vomit.
>You all but throw your mug down before slamming the door behind you and frantically searching for the light switch.
>When you finally find the switch, though, you’re stunned by a scene even more disturbing than the last.
>There, like a writhing mass of flesh and sweat, lay a scene more degenerate than even your worst fantasies.
>The five underclassmen care not for anything but raw pleasure, each one more desperate than the last for the fleeting gratification of touch.
>They are lost to all reason, carnal desire having long since consumed them.
“What the fuck…”
>You can only shake your head at the sight and take a step back.
>Sure, you’ve snuck peeks in when Vinyl or Tree Hugger wore something especially revealing, but this…?
>This is… wrong.
>And, oh God, the smell.
>A violent spasm in your peripherals reminds you of Snails’ plight.
>Taking a knee, you begin to examine him while trying not to panic, your breathing now heavy as a thousand thoughts run by your mind.
>His mouth is full of vomit, of which is a sickly green that rolls down his cheeks due to the overflow.
>You alleviate this by setting him against the wall and tilting his head downward.
>You check his pulse while patting him on the back, as you’re not sure if the scrawny shit is still breathing.
“...Oh thank God.”
>The little fucker still has a pulse.
>Once his vomit sessions ends with a nice cough, he begins to breathe again, much to your relief.
>A little raspy, though, as if there’s some stuff left in his stomach.
>A gentle push on his stomach should fix that.
“Good, let it all out… Atta’ boy.”
>And let it all out he does, the bit of carpet before him amassing a sizable puddle of green mush and half-eaten chicken nuggets.
>You grimace at the chunky puddle and lift the scrawny lad a few feet away so that he wouldn’t choke on the stuff if he would happen to fall over.
>He’s out cold, and you honestly kind of envy him.
>Giving Snails a small pat on the shoulder, you stand and look towards the unseemly scene unfolding on the bed.
>Just as you look over, however, that’s when Vinyl decides to barf on her chest and part of Flash.
>Much to your horror, he gives her an affectionate kiss and leans in, licking a bit of the stuff off of her breast and swallowing.
>You’re gagging before he has time to even close his mouth.
>Rushing out of the room, you find yourself heaving over a toilet no more than five seconds later.
>The first mouthful of barf and stomach acid wasn’t that bad, all things considered, but it gets progressively worse.
>The second mouthfuls you managed to pull through by shutting your eyes tight and trying to ignore it all.
>The third and fourth are where you begin to dig your nails onto the side of the toilet, the very core of your stomach threatening give in at this point.
>Or that’s what it feels like, at least.
>Like someone shoved a Goddamn tarantula down your throat before pouring tabasco sauce down your nose.
“H-holy shit,” is all you’re able to choke out by the end of it, being barely able to stand.
>You take a moment to drink some tap from the sink before catching your breath, momentarily thinking about going out for a fag and letting the underclassmen wear themselves out.
>Sadly, though, you’re the only sober one in the situation and need to be babysit them, yet again.
>Have to make sure Snips doesn’t go streaking again.
>You meander your way back into Flash’s room and take a moment to mentally prepare yourself for what needs to be done.
>Sucking it up with a grimace, you force yourself to look at the sight.
>Vomit everywhere, Snails is still propped against the wall, and the five underclassmen are still going at it.
>You wonder if you should separate them…
>Wait, why wouldn’t you?
>None of the fuckers would be wearing protection right now, and you’re not so sure that Tree Hugger or Vinyl would be the type to own morning-after pills.
>You look back at Snails.
>Then back at the group.
>Then back at Snails.
“Fuckin’ great.”
>Rolling your shoulders and cracking your neck, you curse your luck while heading over to the bed.
>You decide to avoid looking directly at any of them, instead keeping your eyes off to the side while keeping your voice loud, yet quiet enough that it wouldn’t happen to wake anybody in an adjacent room.
“Guys, c’mon, someone could get pregnant.”
>Tree Hugger, temporarily breaking herself from the debauchery, looks up at you and offers you a sultry smile.
>”Don’t worry, hun, Flash already got it covered…”
>You look her in the eye, then offer Flash one gl—
>Yup, okay, he’s wrapt up.
>You glance at Snips’ and are relieved to see a faint shimmer of plastic.
>Lastly, you offer Soarin a skeptical look…
>Only to see him furiously molesting a stuffed teddy bear off in the corner.
>Guess he’s not going to contaminate the rest of the world just yet.
>Shaking your head, you pull out a cigarette and light it up, not really caring about common courtesy at this point.
>You’ve earned this little pleasure.
“All I wanted was a good fucking night for once, and what do I get?”
>A throaty moan from the bed is your only reply.
>You mosey off towards the kitchen and grab some basic cleaning supplies, only stopping to curse at the house’s lack of gloves.
>The room’s stench still makes you recoil upon reentering, however.
>Fucking degenerate.
>You approach Snails’ masterpiece before popping a slav squat and getting to work, grumbling all the while.
>It doesn’t take much physical work, but it requires more mental fortitude than anything else.
>You fold the paper towels over nearly four times before picking up handfuls of the stuff and throwing it in the trash, the smell making your stomach churn and eyes water.
>No more than twelve minutes later is the carpet good as new, though your hands now smell like dogshit.
“I always tell Flash to not invite these two faggots…”
>You take a moment to wipe your hands off on Snails’ shirt before standing and grabbing your materials.
“They always puke, or have bad trips, or some stupid shit like that…”
>Lifting Snails onto the couch to rest, you look down at the unconscious lad for a moment.
>Man, two years later and this dipshit still hasn’t changed.
“And I’m always playing the mother hen with these fuckin’ tards, cleaning up their shit and making sure nobody fights.”
>Lighting up another cigarette, you mentally steel yourself while preparing another wad of paper towel for the next task.
>Vinyl still has that barf all over her…
>Man, and then you gotta’ get these fuckers dressed; make it seem like nothing happened last night.
>With any luck they won’t remember a thing.
>Sighing, you bite the bullet and move over to the main group, which, thankfully, had gone completely silent about two minutes prior.
>Heavy snoring greets your ears as you stand before them, though you note that Flash has fallen down onto the ground, his form being coated in vomit, urine, and other things you’d rather not specify.
>Right, time to get this done.
>You decide to get the worst over with first, and so your eyes look to Vinyl’s filth-ridden form.
>As you begin to get the slimy shit off of her, however, you can’t help but notice a few things.
>First is the lack of reaction she has to you rubbing down her chest and such, your liberal amounts of soapy washcloth not fazing her in the least.
>Second is the fact that she’s awfully cold, yourself shivering when you begin to scrub her clean, a vicarious chill running down your spine and into your skull.
>Third is the small bit of puke still in her mouth.
>Well that’s disgusting.
>Shrugging, you go back to the task at hand, trying not to stare at—
>Your eyes snap onto her face, or more importantly her mouth.
>It’s filled with the green slush.
“Oh shit!”
>You scramble to get Vinyl on her side, all but slapping the back of her head to help get the stuff out.
>Once it all leaks out of her limp mouth, you set her back down and begin to lightly slap her face, her eyes unmoving all the while.
“Vinny, Vinny, Vinny, hey, Vinny, c’mon, wake up, Vinny…”
>You notice she’s not breathing.
>Oh God.
>She’s not fucking breathing!
>You don’t even care about the horrible stench from her mouth at this point.
>It tastes worse than anything you’ve ever tasted, but you administer a lungful of air before beginning to apply CPR.
”Oh shit, shit, shit… C’mon, Vinny…”
>Three more pumps, one breath, three more pumps, one breath, repeat.
“C’mon, Vinny…”
>She’s still cold.
>No response.
>Tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes.
>You’re not so much pumping her right breast so much as you are putting your entire body weight into it, Vinyl jerking up and down with each movement of yours, every part of her body numb as her lifeless eyes look right past you, all semblance of that carefree and lovable underclassman gone.
>”Uh, Twilight?”
>You shake your daydreams away, your body seizing up for a moment before you recognize the voice.
>”You alright?”
>Sunset Shimmer, bless her heart, has decided to get the attention of the entire group with her choice words.
>All conversation dies down from the group of close friends and confidants, the seven teenagers now eying you with looks ranging from mild interest to poorly-concealed worry.
“Y-yeah, I’m good. Why wouldn’t I be good?”
>Smooth, Twilight.
>”Well, ya’ haven’t touched yer lunch.”
>”Your hair’s a mess, dear.”
>”You look like hell, eggy.”
>You take a moment to rub at your arm, eyes now staring pointedly at the untouched meal before you.
>”What’s wrong, dear?”
>Rarity takes a moment to stand up and make her way over towards you, the feeling of her delicate and smooth hands beginning to work on the knots on your back quickly proving too much for you.
>You give out a slight purr at the sensation before slumping slightly in your seat.
“That feels heavenly…”
>”Now tell your old friend Rarity what’s the matter, dear.”
>The drull cacophony of the lunchroom seems to dissipate upon her words, the shrill ringing in your ears no longer bearing down upon you with the force of a thousand suns.
>Maybe it’s the encouraging smile that Applejack wears, or maybe it’s the pat on the shoulder Sunset gives you.
>Either way, you can’t help but hope that they won’t think less of you for this.
“I’m worried about Anon.”
>”Oooh, Nonny time?”
>Pinkie swings around the table and slides herself next to you, her hands clapping excitedly all the while.
>Interested looks come from the rest of the table, none of them the indignant or hurtful looks that you imagined.
>Well, save for Dash, but that’s to be expected when speaking about Anon.
>”Why, what’s wrong?” questions Applejack, herself leaning into her seat with piqued interest.
“Uh, well… I presume you all heard about happened at Flash’s party, yes?”
>A few faces sour at that, but all take a moment to glance at Vinyl’s usual table, varying ranges of sadness phasing over them.
>”Damn shame, that.”
>Applejack takes a moment to tip her hat downwards, letting it stay there as she finds the table increasingly interesting.
>That seems to be the general consensus of the table, for that matter, as all consult the table for advice on the situation.
>Sunset, however, takes the initiative.
>”You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”
>The way she lets the words linger leaves a lot up to interpretation, a skeptical and slightly worried look in her eyes.
“W-what?” you stutter out, reflexively jerking back into Rarity and making an X with your hands.
“No, I’m not saying anything, it’s just—”
>”You think he’s involved?”
>Sunset, please, any time but now.
“No—well, maybe? I—”
>You look up from twiddling your thumbs to steal a glimpse at Rainbow Dash, her voice her unnatural low.
>When you see her, though, you’re forced to cringe.
>She’s already out the door.
>Oh God.
>Squirming out of Rarity’s grasp, you motion for the girls to follow before giving chase to the hotheaded friend, a sinking sensation in your stomach making you want to sit down and cry all the while.
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Phew, finally done with that update. Am feeling rather tired, so don't expect any more today, though I may post more come tomorrow, though no promises. And sorry for being late with this update, as I was rather exhausted today. Have a good one, you glorious bastards, and I'll see you soon.


>”Jeez. Two hundred dollars for a painting. I feel like an asshole now.”
“That’s pretty normal.”
>”For real? Fuck me…”
>She runs a hand through her hair
“It’s not that big a deal.”
>Gilda shrugs
>”Guess not. Still, two hundred dollars, fuck…”
>She kicks a rock off the path, sending it sailing in a clean arc right into a trash-can, where it lands with a sonorous CLANG

>The two of you wind your way back through the fair again
>Throngs of people are filling the narrow paths now, forcing you and Gilda to bunch of against each other to avoid being separated
>She slings an arm around your shoulders
“Nothing, just… is this necessary.”
>”Probably not.”
>She flashes you a toothy grin
>”But are you gonna complain?”
>”Ha! Holy shit. You’re so into me.”
“I am not!”
>”C’mon, don’t play that game. I’ve been around the dyke block. You’re so far in the closet you’re chillin’ with Tom Cruise.”
“I’m not in the closet! I’m totally okay with my identity as a bisexual woman!”
>”Sick. So you’re admitting you’re into me?”
>Needless to say, this conversation is attracting a fair bit of attention
>Multiple lumbering fairgoers are eyeing you so viciously as if to inject the wrath of god into you through some sort of Superman eyebeam
“No! I’m into girls in general, sure, but I barely know you.”
>”As if that makes any difference. You’ve been eyein’ me all day!”
“No I haven’t…”
>”Hah, whatever dude.”
>Gilda spies a vendor stand in the distance, licking her lips
>”Oh hell yes! Dude, they’ve got funnel cakes!”
>”They’re like the best thing ever invented! Go buy me one!”
>”Why not?”
“I bought you wings already!”
>”Yeah, so clearly you’ve got money to throw around. C’mon.”
“I’m not buying you a stupid funnel cake.”
>Her eyes light up
>”How ‘bout we trade?”
>”Yeah, dude. You buy me some more food, and I’ll give you, uh…”
>A hungry grin starts to spread across her face
>You’re trying really hard to look like you’re dreading her answer
“You’ll what?”
>”A kiss.”
>She smacks her lips at you
“I’m not buying you funnel cake for a kiss!”
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>You shouldn’t have shouted that; people are *really* staring now
>Gilda just throws her head back, hollering in laughter as a wave of righteous Christian disapproval seems to form up around the two of you

>You buy her the funnel cake
>In the back of your mind, you keep telling yourself you just did it so the two of you could get out of there
>Together, you and Gilda find the most remote park bench you can, and she chews happily on the fried dough and powdered sugar while you stew in the seat across from her
“You’re the worst, you know that?”
“The entire fair was staring at us.”
>”Looked like it.”
“I didn’t do this for a kiss.”
>”Tryin’ to up the ante, huh? I like your style. Since you’re cute…”
>She winks at you
>”I’ll give you two kisses. But that’s the final offer.”
“That’s not what I—“
>Holy shit your heart is beating hard
“Whatever. You’re impossible.”
>Her foot taps yours under the table
>You don’t stop her
>Behind the two of you, the sun is red, distended, and descending in the sky now
>Both your shadow and Gilda’s appear weirdly distorted on the grass, stretched out by the light’s arc until they meet at a point beneath the nearest park bench
>It’s almost time for your shift to start
>Across from you, Gilda is watching the sunset while licking the grease and sugar off her fingers
“Well. I should get going.”
“Shift’s starting.”
>”You’re working the concert, right?”
>”Nice. I’ll tag along.”
“What? No, I’m working sound. I’ll be in the tech booth. You can’t.”
>”Who the fuck’s gonna stop me? The dweeb-central security? It’ll be nice and cozy~.”
>She wiggles her eyebrows at you
“That’s… that’s not allowed!”
>”How’re they gonna know?”
>You shake your head, your brain too frazzled by totally not romantic thoughts to say anything back to her

>So yeah, she follows you to the sound booth
>The lead tech lets you in, and Gilda just sort of muscles her way in as well
>You’re not sure how she does it; the guy looks like he wants to tell her she can’t come in, but she just has that sort of presence that nobody wants to say “no” to
>So the two of you end up in the cramped, sweltering tent together
>There’s barely room for the both of you; she ends up sitting on the floor with her feet propped up on a control console while you fiddle with switches
>Whoever the last tech was, he completely screwed everything up
>The bass is maxed high enough to fry the speakers, and the treble is weirdly washed out
>Then again, the less Sick Puppies people have to hear, that’s probably for the better
>”Whoa. This is boring.”
“Tell me about it. But don’t actually. Because I need to concentrate.”
>”Yeah, yeah. When’s the band starting?”
“Ten minutes.”
>You adjust the sound levels while a few stage hands perform a sound check
>To expert hands like yours, the whole process eats up only about ten minutes
>Gilda taps her foot in boredom

>Everything is hot, muggy, and vaguely agoraphobic in only the way a summer evening can be
>”You got everything set up?”
>”Cool. Let’s get out of here.”
>She grabs your arm and tries to haul you away, but this time you don’t let her
“What? No. The band will be out any minute!”
>”Who cares? You already pressed your knobs and stuff. Let’s go find some beer, or—“
“No. I promised I’d do this.”
>Gilda sighs, sprawling backwards with her arms crossed behind her head
>”I don’t get you, Smudge.”
“I’m hardly the one who’s acting weird.”
>She shrugs
>”Seems pretty weird to me. Why’re you so caught up in all this… I dunno, stuff?”
“What stuff?”
>She frowns, clearly having trouble getting the right words
>”Gimme a minute.”
>Your voice comes out colder than intended
>”You’re all messed up about those dweebs from earlier, an’ the people here, an’ getting this all to sound right… even though you always take care of it. Shit, kid. You’re like a borderline genius.”
“A genius? Well, I mean…”
>You can tell you’re blushing, and hope Gilda will pass it off as just an effect of the summer heat
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
>”Eh? I mean, you’re smarter than anyone I’ve ever run into. And, like, everything we’ve done today has worked out, right? You’ve made it work out.”
“Have I?”
>”When didn’t you?”
“I mean, I was pretty upset about… what happened earlier. I wouldn’t say everything’s worked out.”
>”Yeah, but you still got those two kicked out. That’s pretty fuckin’ legit.”
“I guess. But you’re right, it didn’t make me feel any better…”
>”That’s what I don’t get.”
“I guess I don’t get it either.”
>A burst of guitar static hits your ears as Sick Puppies (or maybe it’s their roadies, you honestly can’t tell; all of them are scrawny, bald guys in Pantera t-shirts) steps up on the stage, and begins shouldering instruments
“You’re right though. Today really hasn’t been so bad…”
>”Of course it hasn’t. Today’s been, like, the second-best day I’ve ever had here.”
>She taps the toe of her boot against your shoulder
>”You’re a cool chick, Smudge.”
“A cool chick? That’s… heh…”
>”Hey! They hell are you laughin’ at me for?”
“Nothing! It’s just, that’s… that’s definitely not something I’ve been called before.”
>”No shit? How?”
“What do you mean how?”
>”Like… fuck it, dude, I dunno.”
>Gilda gets weirdly defensive, for some reason
>”You just seem cool.”
“Well… thanks.”
>You get up from your chair, and sit on the ground next to Gilda
“I think you’re pretty cool too.”
>”Well yeah, of course. I’m a fuckin’ badass.”
>She sits up enough to bump her shoulder against yours
>You smile at her, letting your shoulder rest against hers
>She returns it, doing that toothy-grin thing again
>You’re somewhat surprised to realize that your face is drifting towards hers, but don’t do anything to stop it…


>Out of absolutely nowhere, Sick Puppies slams into their first song
>Gilda flinches, raising her hands as if expecting a fight, while you jump about a foot in the air
“Ah! I g-got distracted! Does everything sound okay?”
>”I mean, it sounds as good as Sick Puppies is going to…”
“Is the treble okay? Too much bass? Vocals washed out!?”
>You scramble over to the control console, chewing on your nails
>Gilda steps up behind you, clapping a hand on your shoulder
>In order to be heard over the music, she has to lean in close, talk-shouting right into your ear
>”Sounds fine, Smudge.”
>This close, you can smell the cake on her breath
>It smells really, really good; sugary and sweet, and tinglingly warm where it brushes against your cheek
“Does it? I’m pretty sure I could raise the rhythm guitar a bit—“
>You reach for the control knob, but Gilda closes her hand over the back of yours
>When she does, you notice immediately that she’s taken the gloves off, and her palms are really, really sweaty
>Is she as nervous as you are?
>Something about that realization — combined with the strength of her fingers as they close over your palm — sends a fresh surge of electric-hot sensation down your arm, to your chest, where it slowly settles down into a warm, slightly fluttery dizziness in your belly
>”Chill, dude. It sounds fine.”
>Her other arm wraps around your waist, pulling your body back against hers
>You wind up with her breasts pressed against the back of your neck, and her abs on your lower back
>The feeling in your stomach drops even lower, rooting itself firmly and wetly between your legs
>You clamp your thighs together in response, hoping she won’t notice
“You sure?”
>”Hell yeah I’m sure. Fuckin’ hell, Smudge. You can even make a trash band like this sound okay.”
>She squeezes you, surprisingly gently given the size difference between the two of you
>For a little while, the two of you just stay like that, in a sort of awkward standing-spooning position, rocking slowly to music that’s hardly fitting to the moment
>Still, there’s something about just how not-fitting the crashing guitar chords are that makes the moment seem that more real
>There’s nothing cheesy or pretentious about it; you’re really here, Gilda’s really here, and every thump of her heart seems to reverberate through your neck and down your spine
>You lean back into her, breathing a long sigh
>”Wanna dance?”
>”The music sounds great. Your job’s done, senpai. Let’s dance.”
>”Don’t say no.”
>Gilda squeezes you a little extra tightly for emphasis
“I… I wasn’t going to.”
>You pull away from her, then take her hand in yours
>This time, you’re the one leading her

>An entire field of dancing bodies swirls around you as the two of you as you wander out into the center of the field
>Well, “dancing” probably isn’t the right word
>The field is full of stumbling-drunk college kids, townies in oversized flame-shirts, and uncomfortable chubby midwestern moms all jumping in place and screaming their praises to the band
>But they’re easy to ignore
>Gilda keeps tight hold of your hand, following closely behind you
>There’s sort of this air of awkward disapproval, but it’s so much easier to ignore when she’s here
>All it takes is a single glare from those intense golden eyes to get anyone to shrink away
>When you reach the center of the field (which is, of course, absolutely painted with crumpled beer cans and discarded food wrappers), you and Gilda face each other, both sort of awkwardly bobbing to the music
“I, um… kinda don’t know how to dance…”
>”Ha! Fuck it, dude, neither do I. Neither do any of these dweebs. Just do what feels right, ‘kay?”
>She takes ahold of your other hand, and the two of you start ambling around in this sort of 50’s-esque Twist
>It starts slow at first, as the two of you adjust to the rhythm of each other’s bodies
>Gilda steps on your feet a couple times, nearly breaking your toes, and you accidentally elbow her in the stomach once or twice
>But it doesn’t take long before you’re both jumping in place like the rest of these idiot, hands clasped together, your faces red and sweat-streaked and radiantly beaming

>The concert’s over before you realize it, and the two of you scramble back to the booth
“That… was… s-so… cool…”
>You’re so out of breath that it feels like you’re about to pass out, and your entire body is shaky and languid from exertion
>”Fuck yeah! You’re a… natural!”
>Gilda sucks in a deep breath, stumbling into the sound-tech tent after you
>You silence everything so the band can unpack their stuff, then collapse onto the ground, laying on your back with your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath
>Gilda falls next to you, landing just close enough that she can tuck her arm under your head
>You’re grateful for that, and nuzzle up against her side
>That makes her look down at you, a little perplexed
>”Damn, dude. You sure warmed up to me fast, huh?”
“Heh, well…”
>You’re pretty sure she can’t see how hard you’re blushing, seeing as your face is already bright-red from dancing
“It’s been a pretty good day.”
>”Hell yeah it has.”
>Gilda lays her head back, staring up at the tent’s ceiling
>”I, uh… oof. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
>”Thank fuck.”
>You lay your head on her chest, feeling it rise and fall beneath your cheek as she breathes
“You know, we haven’t gone on any rides today.”
>Gilda’s eyes go wide
>”Dude, we haven’t!”
“I’m not really up for anything, um, intense. But if you want to go on the Ferris Wheel, I’d be—“
>”Hell yeah, I’m down!”
>Immediately, the cuddle session ends as Gilda jumps to her feet, pulling you up with her
>And together, the two of you sprint off into the night

>You stumble a fair bit, and your chest is absolutely burning, but there’s a certain joy in mad-dash running
>The entire fair — now light up by thousands of yellow and purple bulbs — rushes by in a blur, and the night seems to couch a lot of the grossness of the place in darkness, giving everything a spectral, otherworldly vibrancy
>On the fair’s PA, a vaguely-familiar Beatles track is playing, sounding like something off Sergeant Pepper
>Gilda pulls you up the Ferrish Wheel, which is still circling in slow, graceful arcs through the sky, lit up by long bars of purple neon light
>She gazes up at it, grinning, the light catching in her eyes
>”Yeah, senpai. Whoa…”
>She wraps an arm around your shoulders, and doesn’t remove it throughout your entire time in line
>When you get to the wheel, a sallow-faced operator unlocks a booth for the both of you
>It’s crammed, clearly intended to fit kids instead of fully-grown adults
>So you have to wedge yourself in, ending up pressed tightly against Gilda’s right side
>Not something you’re particularly upset about
>A great creaking groan reverberates up the machine’s supports as the wheel starts to turn, slowly lifting you upwards along a rusted metal arc
>Gilda leans back, crossing her arms behind her head, and you let your head rest against her forearm
>Below you, the fair recedes into a mish-mash of brightly colored lights, illuminated booths, and streams of excited kids racing from one to the other, carrying slowly-melting desserts and tucking stuffed animals under their arms
“You know…”
“I wish I’d gotten a chance to see the fair like this when I was younger.”
>”What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. It just kind of hit me how… exilerating all of this is.”
>”Hah. Yeah. I got some good memories tied to this trash heap.”
“Am I going to be one of them?”
>Gilda looks at you, her face blank
>”What, you think I’m not gonna talk to you again?”
“I… I dunno… it wouldn’t be the first time…”
>”Jesus. Hell no, Smudge. You have any idea how hard it is to find another dyke around here?”
“I’m not a—!”
>”Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re a super special kind of dyke, or whatever.”
>Gilda uncrosses her arms and throws one of them around your shoulders, pulling you against her
>Immediately, whatever socially justified retort that was forming on your tongue disintegrates as the heat of her proximity floods into you
>”But still. You promised me a kiss earlier, remember?”
>You’re acutely aware that her nose is only centimeters away from yours
“I d-did not…”
>”You totally did.”
>”Let’s pretend ya did, alright?”
“Well, alright…”

>Now, you’re pretty certain that the vast majority of young girls look forward to their first kiss more than just about anything
>Years of Disney-movie conditioning and romance-novel endings build up so much hype around that magical moment that every innocent, doe-eyed preteen is absolute sure it’ll be this cascading, miraculous moment of intimacy
>And, as a corollary, you’re pretty sure that the vast majority of little girls are also horribly disappointed by how awkward and fumbling the first kiss usually is
>Yours, no exception, was a quick peck with Moondancer under the bleachers, where the two of you snuck off to during a horribly disappointing middle-school mixer
>But your first kiss with Gilda…
>Well, your expectations have finally been met, albeit eight years later than you would have hoped
>She doesn’t take a long time “setting up” the kiss, like you see in movies, there’s no long, slow-mo speed moment where your mouths slowly inch together
>On the contrary, she grabs you and practically slams her mouth against yours, kiss you so hard that your breath is, almost literally, sucked away
>You grab the back of your head, angling your mouth to meet hers, and return the kiss with (an attempt at) the same amount of passion, sucking greedily on her lower lip
>She responds, gasping slightly when her tongue slips between your teeth
>When the two of you break apart, you feel vaguely like you’re floating, soaring high over the blinking lots and greasy food-smoke, and into some ethereal, “holy shit I just scored” dimension
>”Holy shit, kid.”
>Gilda smacks her lips
>”You really know how to kiss.”
“Yeah, I read a lot of— I mean, I, uh, get a lot of practice… heh…”

>When you leave, Gilda’s arm remains around your shoulders the entire way out, the darkness serving to mask the disapproving stares that you know are still lurking around
>”That was pretty good. Just gonna go ahead and say it, that was pretty fuckin’ good.”
“Yeah… I don’t t-think I’ve ever kissed for that long…”
>Gilda grins
>”I thought you said you had a lot of practice?”
“I d-do! Just, um… in short intervals, heheh…”
>You bump your hip against hers, trying to knock her over
>She barely teeters, then does the same to you, accidentally knocking you into a row of trash cans
>You jump to your feet, trying your best to look angry, and demand that she carry you the rest of the way out as “punishment”
>Eventually, though, you reach the parking lot, where your car and her motorcycle (you didn’t think it was possible for her to make you any wetter, but here it is; these panties are definitely getting thrown out when you get home) wait for you
>”I, uh…”
>Gilda runs a hand through her hair
>”That’s really not how I expected the day to go, heh.”
“Yeah, same…”
>You nuzzle up against her, one last time
“I’m really glad it did, though.”
>”Same, Smudge. Same.”
>She hugs you, giving you a much gentler kiss than before
>When she pulls away, your feel her hand in yours, with a tiny piece of paper pressed against your palm
>”Call me, alright?”
“Of course.”
>”No, for real. Call me. I… I’ve been ditched after a first date too, ya know.”
“First thing tomorrow morning.”
>”Sweet. And hey, lemme know when we can meet up again, alright?”
“Right, of course.”
>Breaking the embrace takes far more effort than you thought it would
>But eventually you pull away from Gilda, and wave her a small goodbye as you walk back to your car
>She stays put, her golden eyes fixed intently on you the entire way to the vehicle, and then for your entire drive out of the lot, until she disappears from sight

The end. Hope you dudes enjoyed.
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I just got here so I'll have to read it when I have the time, but it was pretty darn good from what I saw. Great job, man.
Dang, you've finished so many of your stories.
Thanks, dude. Hope you enjoy it when you get to it.

I've finished a lot, but there's still a lot that are embarrassingly incomplete :'^
please finish 'without her' ;_;
It is finished, though...

She's not gonna come back, senpai
oh what the fuck
it's listed in ongoing in the /nst/ archive

and i checked just now and i swear to god i did not see the "The End" at the bottom before
the archive needs to be updated then
yes, yes it does.
I added the "The End" a couple minutes ago so people won't get confused again. But yeah, the story's done, and I'll ask JC to change it to "finished" in the archive.

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ay bitch that aint twi
I love how Arthur Conan Doyle used Sherlock Holmes to criticise the work of fellow writers of his time and in such a shitposting manner too.
That's all.
Really slow day on /mlp/
Will have some green up in a few, hopefully that'll quicken things up a bit? Plus it's barely nine where I'm at, people are probably still asleep.
Pretty good.
I was talking about the board in general though.

Finally updated the BoringLight pastebin. New updates might be out soon.
>You are Anonymous.
>And, fuck, are you stressed.
>”Trixie would then square this, yes?”
>Not like you didn’t have enough on your mind, but Trixie also decided to ask you for some extra help during lunch.
>Literally last minute before the test.
“Yeah, you got it.”
>You take a moment to yawn and briefly rub the sleep from your eyes, which only elicits a small groan as you accidentally rub the bruised one.
>Still raw from this morning, your face sports a black eye, a busted lip, and some mild swelling.
>Thankfully Trixie dropped the issue when you told her not to worry about it, though there was still worry written all over her face.
>Trixie finishes the problem as told and without a hitch, though she does have to stop and count with her fingers a couple of times.
“You don’t even need me at this point,” you say while leaning into your palm and resting your eyes, “you’re going to be done within the first ten minutes, just like Twilight.”
>”If Twilight can be done within ten, then Trixie will be done in five!”
>You glance over to see her puff out her chest and adopt a cocky smile.
“Oh, really now?”
>”Trixie would bet on it, Anonymous.”
>Hmmm, this gun be good.
“You know that I’m going to call you out on that, right?”
>”Trixie cannot boast, for there is nothing she cannot do.”
>Aww hell naw.
>Rolling your shoulders, you slowly sit up in your seat and give her a skeptical look, your hand already halfway up to offer the shake.
“Bet you lunch—”
>..That voice.
>That fucking voice.
>You haven’t heard her say your name in just under a year, and by God does it make your blood run cold.
>All but jumping out of your chair, you stand and turn to see Rainbow Dash storming her way towards you, shoulders squared and eyes narrowed.
>There’s a chill down your spine as you somewhat falter under her gaze, though you quickly dismiss your fears and stand tall.
“H-hey, Dash, what’s up—”
>”Don’t you ‘What’s up?’ me. You know damn well why I’m here, don’t you?”
>You cringe at her volume and choice words, though you try not to break eye contact.
>You feel uncomfortably warm, and, with a rub to the back of your neck, give the young woman a slow shake of the head.
“Something about Flash’s party, I presume?”
>”And how you made another Goddamn repeat of last year’s play?”
>You hear the sound of Trixie removing herself from her seat and making her way to your side, though you don’t dare break eye contact with the young woman before you.
>”Trixie would like to know the meaning of—”
>”None of your business, Trixie. Get lost.”
>”It is very much Trixie’s business when you interrupt our lunch!”
>Making effort to take a single, calm breath, Dash glares daggers as Trixie as soon as she’s calmed herself.
>”Not. Now.”
>You shake your head and put a hand on Trixie’s shoulder, yourself taking a step in between the two.
“Could we please not do this now? You’re making a scene here, Dash—”
>”And you didn’t make an even bigger scene by sending Vinyl to the hospital?!”
>You flinch back, as if physically struck.
>This only encourages the young woman, however, as she takes a step forward and begins to jab you in the chest with an accusatory finger.
>”You just couldn’t be happy with ruining your own life, no, you had to go and force your pothead shit on my friends.”
“No, I—”
>She jabs you again, harder this time.
>”Gotta’ go and force your, ‘Oh, I’ve got it so bad, might as well drown my problems in drugs!’ shit on everyone else, huh?”
“Dash, no—”
>”Well, we’re fucking sick of it, Anon!”
>She’s nose to nose with you at this point, a snarl on her face as she glares up at you.
>”If you wanna’ kill yourself with these chems, then go ahead, nobody’s stopping you.”
>She takes a moment to slowly raise her finger and point at your face, her face so close that you can feel her breath now.
>”But you’ve got another thing coming if you think you can go around trying to kill my friends again!”
>A searing pain explodes from your left cheek, your head jerking to the right from the force of the blow.
>There are sounds just in front of you, particularly a loud yell among the sounds of a scuffle, but you can only focus on remaining upright from the force of the blow.
>There are stars in your vision, your head is swirling from the unexpected blow, but you right yourself before stumbling.
>Before long, though, there comes a steadying force from your right: someone’s holding onto your arm to help keep you steady.
>Slowly, ever so slowly, you open your eyes to see the dark purple eyes of Trixie looking into yours, worry plastered all over them.
>”Are you quite alright, Anonymous?”
>Your vision is still swirly and littered with stars, but you give a nod nonetheless.
>Before she can ask you any further questions, however, you both turn at the sound of hastily approaching footsteps.
>Twilight and Rarity stand just before you, the rest of their group just in the immediate background.
>Fluttershy is being led off by Pinkie, the former no doubt still skittish around conflict, but you don’t care about them at the moment.
>What you care about is the sight that is Rainbow Dash, of whom is having a heated argument with Applejack and Sunset, though they’re just out of hearing range.
>You’re broken from your stare at Dash when a new pair of hands is upon you, with one being placed on your shoulder and another gently rubbing over the new bruise on your cheek.
>”Are you okay!?”
>Ah, Twilight’s staring up at you, on her tiptoes to get a good look at Dash’s hit.
“Yeah, I’ve had worse.”
>She catches look of your mouth while you speak, which causes her eyes to widen a little.
>”Anon, you’re bleeding.”
>You swallow the mouthful of blood and crack your neck.
“I’m good.”
>You can’t muster the willpower to give her a smile, as moving your face hurts at this point, so you opt to steal a glance at Dash.
>She’s still pissed beyond reason, her words lost to your ears, but you can still make out multiple curses from the way she moves her mouth.
>You wonder what’s going through that young brain of hers.
>Maybe she thinks you let it happen?
>Or maybe she feels obligated to act for the hospitalized friend, exacting revenge on her behalf?
>Or maybe—
>”Anon, Anon?”
>You shake yourself awake from the small reverie and look down at Twilight, of whom has now taken her hands off of you.
>”I’m really sorry about this, we were talking at lunch, then things kind’ajustspiralledoutt’acontrolandI—”
>Rarity places a hand on Twilight’s shoulder.
>”Calmy now, dear.”
>Twilight, with three pairs of eyes now on her, takes a moment to calm herself before beginning to furiously rub her arm.
>”Trixie fears that your acquaintance will bring Anonymous harm again.”
>She’s still holding your arm, though you’re pretty sure that you’re able to stand on your own by now.
“I’ll be fine.”
>The words are duly noted, but ultimately ignored.
>”This won’t happen again, I-I promise! We’ll talk with Dash, we’ll get it sorted out, I swear,” Twilight says while beginning to frantically nod her head.
>The two begin to talk again, but your vision drifts back onto the rainbow haired one.
>A part of you wants to cry, another part wants to go out for a fag before losing yourself in drink.
>The most vocal part of you, however, finds this all quite humorous.
>You can’t help but chuckle, though this quickly escalates into a lighthearted laugh, and then finally into a full-blown guffaw.
>A great many number of eyes are upon you now, but you don’t really care.
>You offer a light smile at the six pairs of eyes now upon you.
“I guess they’re right, you know.”
>You take a moment to look Dash in the eyes, her glare unwavering as you give her a lopsided smile.
“Either you die a hero, or you live long enough to become the villain.”
>Silence rings throughout the library for several moments, the only sounds being everyone’s breathing and your own heartbeat.
>Dash raises a single, accusatory finger.
>”Don’t try to—”
>The ring of the bell, signalling fifth hour and the end of lunch, cries out across the campus like a siren, temporarily overpowering all other sound in the library.
>Applejack and Sunset make to silence Dash yet again, though you can’t be bothered to care at this point.
>You’ve seen what trying to argue with her will bring, and you’re left craving a fag right now above all else.
>Trixie slowly removes herself from your arm before going off to gather her things.
>”Listen, I, uhm…”
>Twilight seems to be having trouble with her words again, though Rarity gives her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder.
>”I’m really sorry about all this, can we talk after school, get it all sorted out?”
>Her smile is hopeful, so much so that it almost physically pains you to tell her of your situation.
“You’re good, Twilight, but, uh, I was going to visit Vinny after school.”
>You grab your bag, of which is proffered by a returning Trixie.
“Hospital’s got really strict visiting hours, you know?”
>She seems to deflate at your words, though she still tries to put on a semi-confident look before nodding vigorously.
>”Heh heh heh, s-some other time, then?”
>You take a step past her, but stop to give her shoulder a light slap.
“Count on it.”
>With that, you make your retreat to Ms. Cheerilee’s class, Trixie in toe.
>You make sure to look dead ahead while passing Dash, though you can see in your peripherals that Trixie is giving her a pointed glare.
>Man, what a fucking day.
>You are still Anon.
>Before, you were stressed and exhausted.
>Down, but not out.
>You’re fucking livid.
>You can barely keep a straight face as you continue to circle the class of fifth hour, eyes just waiting for one of these little shits to fuck up and make themselves a target for your fury.
>Cheerilee is especially swamped this week, as there’s a fiasco going on with somebody stealing self-help books, and you’re being trusted again with monitoring the class and making sure that their answers are truly their own.
>Call it being an asshole, but you could really do with yelling somebody else at this point.
>A raised hand separates you from your mental musings, however.
>You make your way over to the youngling, a small and genuine smile now on your face as you lean down to see what the problem is.
“Hey, Lyra.”
>”Hey’o, Nun! I’ve just got a question here...”
>She goes on to show you the problem, explaining that she’s got it narrowed down but doesn’t remember if she has to square or divide the answer by half.
>You give her a skeptical eye, making sure to use your non-black one, and then glance down at her paper, then back at her.
>A nervous and slightly embarrassed smile meets you, followed by a slight blush.
>Anyone else…
>You gingerly tap her answer which was divided, her eyes lighting up as you pull back and take your leave from the bubbly junior.
>Running your hand through your hair, you make your way over to the right half of the classroom, namely where all of the tards sit, as it’s the farthest away from the teacher’s desk.
>Scanning over the students, you can all but feel them seize up at your presence, but you continue on.
>Reaching the back corner of the classroom, you lock eyes with Grizzly.
>The very same manchild who made you convince Cheerilee to have students sit one seat away from each other for these tests.
>However, there’s something about his usual look, something about that shit-eating grin that doesn’t sit right with you…
>You glance down at his paper, idly examining it for any oddities.
>And oddities there are aplenty.
>Namely the actual answers that look right, from a glance.
>If you remember correctly, a handful of the ones already completed are actually right, and he’s even shown some work...
>You squint at the paper.
>Not nearly enough, though.
“Finally studied, Grizzly?”
>You don’t break eye contact from the paper as you do, squinting at it while trying to remember of all the ways you’ve cheated in Precalculus.
>”Yep, aren’t you proud?”
>You hum at that, leaning over slightly and glancing at his palms for any writing.
>Hm, zilch.
“Nothing to be proud of, this should be simple stuff for someone of your age.”
>You look through his paper, what with the bright light from above, and check for any note cards hidden under.
>”Oh ho ho ho, throwing insults at me now?”
>Maybe there’s something you missed under the table?
“Being in this class is an insult in and of itself, young man.”
>He raises a brow at you.
>”Dude, you’re only a year older than me.”
>You make one last check around him, scouring your mind for any other ideas as to how one could cheat.
“Year and a half.”
>Stupid cunt.
>Finding yourself annoyed at being unable to find the source of his success, you turn and continue your slow circle around the classroom, only stopping to take a small drink of water and to check your phone.
>2:18 PM.
>Seven minutes until class ends.
>You roll your shoulders and swallow another bit of blood that’s pooled in the corner of your cheek.
>The remaining testers have either gone into full-panic mode or have begun to review their work, though you’re rather pleased to see Trixie being in the later group instead of the former.
>Twilight, on the other hand, is enjoying some obscure manga you’ve never heard of, an occasional chuckle leaving her mouth as she reads ever more, the girl having long since finished the test.
>You also grin at the fact that Lyra is standing to turn in her test now, and with a relieved smile on her face to boot.
>Making your way past the right portion of the class again, you glance over at the usual delinquents.
>Runts, jocks, and social retards.
>None have scored a higher than 79 to date, save for that one blonde kid who all the other juniors call “Ethnic cleanser”.
>When you’re just about to turn back, however, there comes the dull sound of a plastic bottle hitting the ground just behind you.
>Turning around, you take a knee and pick it up before eying the thing.
>Generic sports drink, probably about as likely to give cancer as it is to give some temporary energy.
>Shrugging, you set it back down on Grizzly’s desk before co—
>Shit, it’s rapper fell off.
>Cursing softly due to your laziness, you kneel down again and pick up the piece of garbage, before making your way towards the recycle bin.
>Just as you stand above the thing and hold the piece of plastic out, however, you notice something… off.
>When did it get so silent?
>No, wait, it was silent before, but there’s something about the air, something that makes your spidey senses tingle.
>Blinking, you slowly turn your head and see that the right half of the class is staring pointedly at you.
>Quirking your head to the side, you look to the wrapper with a newfound interest.
>Then you look back at Grizzly, his eyes lacking any bit of the usual confidence.
>Fixing yourself upright and clearing your throat, you slowly unwrinkle the piece of garbage…
>A small smile crawls its way onto your face.
>Can’t believe you forgot about the old wrapper trick.
>You are Twilight Sparkle.
>While you’re constantly praised for being smart beyond your years, it’s moments like these when you truly question that.
>Just in your hands lay your phone, a familiar messaging app open as you reread your message for the uptenth time.
“Hey, Anon, is Vinyl doing alright?”
>Maybe you forgot to apologize as to why you weren’t able to go with him to visit her?
>Maybe he’s mad at you?
>Of course he’s mad at you, you idiot!
>Would you be mad at Sunset if she didn’t want to come and visit one of your close friends in the hospital, when they need support the most?
>Of course you would be mad!
>You relax back into your bed, rolling yourself into a cocoon of blankets.
>What if he doesn’t forgive you for this?
>Rainbow Dash said he’s not good at forgiving.
>Is she right?
>Oh God, what have you done?
>You look back at your phone and unlock it, the light nearly blinding in your pitch-black room.
>”Eh, she’s doing as well as she can be doing, all things considered. She’s doing a lot better than last night, so that’s good.”
>He’s not angry…?
>Either he’s too distracted by Vinyl’s comatose state or you’ve gone crazy.
Wew, long shitpost was long. Also full of shit, but that was kind of obvious. More tomorrow, hopefully. And I apologize if this story seems to be more Anon focused than anything, and I'm trying to make it more balanced out with Scilight based with the POV changes, as shown. Am I doing too much Anon? Lemme' know if so.

Either way, have a good one, you glorious bastards.
So /nst/ how is Babadook month going so far?
Has any of your children been eaten away by that monster?
By Jove, might as well use a folklore monster like the Sack Man.
At first this was a "what the fuck I am reading, lel" kinda update.
Now I am sad.
And something tells me RD is going to be worthy of her nickname.
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>"Twilight I see you catch a wild cat. Did you knew that some species of cats imitate the sound of birds? Biologists say that it's a hunting mechanism developed to confuse the bird into gaining their trust."
"I see. And how does it taste?"
>"The guide says they taste just fine. But do you really want to eat a cat? He looks so cuddly and pretty.
"Well, when you put it that way... yeah, I kinda do."
>"Hmpf, you are a brute, Twilight, I refuse to save your progress until you release that cat!"
"Okay okay, geeze."
Good update.
Write the way it's more comfortable for you m8ty. There have been some greens not focused entirely on Twilight before, and they are great. Giving her POV importance from time to time seems like what you are most comfortable so just do that.
No dude, remember Rule Zero.
Way to Fall by Starsailor is a great song.
no ass
>nerdy girl that sits inside all day and avoids physical activities

yeah no shit she wouldnt have an ass
or would she
twi has a great ass
Wait, are they called the Power Humans?
I dont think so
I am deeply disappointed.
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Late, but I should have made it obvious that I have no problems dressing in full cute girl mode, just hopefully in a way that shows off my arms or I can't be a proper /fit/Light
I would do Fluttershy's humanized outfit, with the white tanktop and skirt, but I've been having issues with contacts and am stuck with glasses (and am also De Facto group leader, so might as well)

Going to go all out with horn and wings, and make sure her wig is perfect at least.
The Boss is an easy as fuck fight and anyone who wastes more than two minutes killing her is a scrub.
The purple girl is pretty schway tbhfams
I want to hug that cute girl
Fucking loved it m8
There are "people" in this thread RIGHT NOW that unironically dislike cold pizza.
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The future is now, old man.
Aha, but you see, the joke is on you, because I adore pineapple on pizza.
Only the most patrician can truly enjoy such a magnificent combination.
actually vomiting
>”Out on a walk while having a smoke, thinking about life and shit. You?”
>You kind of wish—wait, REALLY wish—that Anon avoided all the nicotine and underage drug abuse, but you’re not going to voice that.
>Not yet, at least.
>He’s going through too much right now.
“Laying in bed, thinking about you.”
>Anon is typing…
>Anon is typing…
>Oh God, Twilight, why don’t you preread your messages before hitting send?
>You want to correct yourself and state that it’s not in that way, but every time you begin writing your apology does Anon begin to type.
>Oh man, is it hot in here?
>Anon is typing...
>”I’m gay, sorry.”
>You jerk back as if you’ve been physically struck, an involuntary curse leaving your mouth as a sudden sinking feeling in your gut takes over.
>Anon’s gay!?
>Heart beating at about twice its normal pace, you stare at the message, something wet beginning to pool in the corners of your eyes…
>”Heh, just kidding.”
>You blink.
>You reread those words several times.
>Spike is licking your face in worry, but you can’t be bothered to care.
>You give out a breath of relief and go limp into your pillow, letting yourself stay there until a familiar buzzing comes from your device.
>”Uh, you alright, Twilight? Just a prank, bro.”
>You stare blankly at the phone, half of your face buried into your pillow.
>Anon is typing…
>”Oh, really just gonna’ leave a brother on read? For shame, Twilight, for shame...”
>You feel like slapping him, he nearly have you a heart attack!
>Groaning into your pillow, you take a moment to exhale deeply.
>A small thought hits you just then...
>Why would you even care if he’s gay?
>He’s a senior.
>You’re a sophomore.
>Simple as that.
>With a sigh, you get back to the task at hand.
“Sorry, got distracted (・_・;).”
>A momentary pause, and then…
>”All good, I knew what you meant earlier, was just fuckin’ with ya’. Oh yeah, and Trixie still doesn’t believe you when you said that you’d be able to keep Dash in line.”
>The mention of Trixie makes your brow furrow for just a split second, but you’re not sure why.
“Trust me, Anon, we had a very long talk with Dash about her actions today. She still thinks she’s in the right, but she’s agreed to not do anything nearly as rash in the future, no matter what. She Pinkie promised.”
>Not exactly sure why, you begin to unravel yourself from the bundle of blankets and slowly begin to make your way towards your bathroom.
>”Wait, Pinkie still does those? That's… actually kind’a adorable. Guess she hasn’t changed much since last time we spoke, just short of a year ago. Does she still bring a plate of cookies to lunch every Monday for everyone?”
>You blink at that, taking a moment to think while looking yourself over.
>Nobody besides your parents has ever called you adorable.
“Yep, though, between you and me, Rarity’s been having one too many of those… (^_^;).”
>You really hope he laughs at that one.
“Pinkie really misses you, by the way. She always gets excited whenever we talk about you.”
>In all honesty, you don’t know why you felt compelled to tell him that just now.
>Probably you just wanting him to be more social instead of just moving from class to class before going off to party after school.
>Your phone is silent for a while.
>Originally, you wanted a moment of silence, a moment to examine yourself in the mirror.
>You’re soon beset by worry, though, at Anon’s lack of response.
>Did you just overstep a boundary again?
>Anon isn’t that comfortable with talking about the past, and you just went into it.
>Before you know it, you’re rubbing your arm again while staring at the mirror.
>You don’t see anything that makes you smile.
>Maybe if you tried putting your hair in a bun?
>You grunt in effort, trying desperately to remember how it goes, but eventually end up with a head of split hairs and knots.
>Maybe if you…?
>The makeup drawer is immediately raided, soon a myriad of cosmetics and other such things lay sprawled out on the counter.
>A few minutes later, and, viola!
>You try and give out a few sexy looks to the mirror, even going so far to point finger guns at yourself and give out little ‘bang bang’s’, but even then you can’t help but groan at the futility of it all.
>No amount of makeup can change that all too small nose.
>Nothing can truly hide the bags under your eyes, the result of years spent up too late watching anime and reading bad romance novels.
>And you’re certain that nothing can make your eyes seem anything but freakishly small.
>Hell, you’re almost as flat as Dash!
>Shaking the ill thoughts away, you hesitantly unlock your phone and see what Anon has to say.
>”No shit, huh? Would be lying if I said that I didn’t miss the little goofball. You’re sure she’s still not at me for the whole Singsong incident, though?”
>Singsong incident?
>You’ll need to ask the girls about that one.
“You really think Pinkie would be the type of person to hold a grudge, Anon?”
>You’re not really able to explain it, but there it comes again as you tap away on your phone.
>That nagging feeling of doubt.
>”...Point taken. I dunno’, maybe I’ll say hi to her one of these days, maybe I won’t. Still got a lot on my plate, you know?”
>Despite your friends constant reassurance that you’re not hideous, you can’t help but feel like a monster while looking in the mirror.
“It would really make her day, just saying (^·^).”
>You’re revolting.
“Is it alright if I ask you a question, though? Just between friends?”
>Sure, you know about what happened at Flash’s party, what with Anon getting Vinyl to the hospital after the party died down and he noticed her, but you’re more interested in something else.
>Something that involves Anon’s bruised and battered face.
>”Ask away.”
>Fiddling with your thumbs, you offer the mirror one last glance before typing again.
“How did you get those bruises?”
>You are Anon.
>You are also cold and hungry, but you’re one thing above all.
>”How did you get those bruises?”
>The message is completely innocent, Twilight’s just worried about your wellbeing.
>Hell, you wish that you had more than one person who actually cared.
>Wish you didn’t have to spend lunch alone every Goddamn—
>Getting off track here.
>Pulling up to a familiar door and rummaging out a key, you open the thing without much trouble and step inside.
>How do you tell her this…?
>I mean, you could straight up tell her, but you don’t trust her that much yet.
>She could think she’s helping you by telling someone, which would end up being a giant fuckin’ fiasco.
>You continue to ponder this conundrum while seeing what’s left in the fridge.
>Your first instinct is to tell her that it’s a bit personal and that you’d rather not discuss it.
>But that would make you seem like a dick.
“Why are you being such a fucking asshole, Anon? We’re trying to help you, and you keep acting a child!”
>You mumble that to yourself in a mocking voice, trying to sound as retarded as the manchild who once spoke those words.
>Grabbing a few slices of bread and some cheese, you settle for a shit-sandwich before scuttling off to your room.
>Stuffing the thing in your mouth to free both of your hands, you settle on the bundle of comforter and frayed blankets that is your bed.
to start lifting again.”
>The sandwich is about as delectable as minced baby brains, but it fills your stomach nonetheless.
>”Who’d you fight with?”
>More than a bit direct are we, Twilight?
“Don’t worry about it, kiddo, little ol’ Anon can take care of himself.”
>You’re halfway through writing the next message, but another wave of exhaustion hits you.
>Groaning, you roll further into the covers and kick off your shoes, not even caring to chew the last bit of the sandwich that’s crammed in your mouth.
>”Just worried about you is all, Anon.”
>Flashbacks come up of a great many people saying the same thing come to mind, but you push them back with some effort.
“Thanks, Twilight. But, uh, I’m more than a bit tired at the moment, what with the concussion and all. Talk to you later?”
>And it’s not a lie, as far as you’re concerned.
>The morning’s fight, your complete lack of sleep, dealing with Dash…
>You’re spent, to say the least.
>”Of course! Good night, Anon! (^O^)/”
>Groaning, you toss in your bed before finding a comfortable position and groaning in satisfaction.
>There’s one thought running through your mind, though, one that makes you stay awake for another hour contemplating how exactly Twilight would react.
>Probably not well.
>Would she understand?
>Probably not, as she seems like the type to have it easy, just like the rest of them.
>Rolling over in your bed, a comforting mantra begins anew in your head, having been a staple in your mind ever since mother passed.
>It was one of the few sayings you remember from the soft-spoken woman...
>Family sticks together, no matter what.
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Well shit, sorry for the somewhat small update and it being a day late, as my sleep schedule is FUBAR at this point and I've been spending far too much time on War Thunder rather than producing green. Am planning to introduce a new POV to the story, though am undecided as to who it'll be. Try and take a guess in the meantime between this and the next update.

Until next time, you glorious bastards.
Another Mango classic, good shit bruh.
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I'm gonna guess Grizz or Dash. Usually stories with multiple pov's have one for the antagonist too.
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And it was said, that only for the first 100 posts you could see shitposting the likes of /nst/ hasn't seen since old/nst/ died.
we need more shadowbolts
Sugarcoat specifically.
>”I’m gay, sorry.”
I was thinking of that same joke.
>You give out a breath of relief and go limp into your pillow, letting yourself stay there until a familiar buzzing comes from your device.
Twily wants the good rape.
Multiversal constant? Oh god, I haven't said that in millennia.

>Before you know it, you’re rubbing your arm again while staring at the mirror.
>You don’t see anything that makes you smile.
Okay now, this IS a multiversal constant.

My guess is RD.
Maybe Flash.
Really? This thread? Shoulda known you were a barbiefag
I like AU Shadow Bolt Twilight. Because they made her guido as fuck.
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But that's just a purple shimmy recolor
Here's a weird one-off I wrote the other night. Hope you guys enjoy it.

>You are Twilight Sparkle
>You wake up late, you eyes straining against the mid-afternoon light filtering through your blinds
>Groaning, you sit up and rub your face while your left hand searches for your glasses
>When you force your eyes open, you’re greeted by the same bedroom: trash all over the floor, piles of books, manga, and discarded drawings, and an ever-present layer of dust over everything
>For a bit, you consider getting out of bed, then think better of it
>After all, it’s not like there’s any point
>You tuck your legs under yourself and curl into a ball, surrounded by stuffed animals
“Morning, guys…” you say to them
>The toys just stare back, not responding
“Hope you’re all doing okay.”
>A couple of your sapphire dragon plushies got knocked over while you slept, so you stand them back up and adjust their wings
>Outside, cars whir and scream past each other on the freeway, the blaring of their horns pounding into your skull
>Not feeling like facing another empty day, you flop back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling
>How long has it been since you left this place?
>The last time you went for groceries was sometime in April
>It’s June now, and you don’t think you’ve left the house anywhere in that time
>You roll over onto your stomach, your breath whistling out of you in a huff
>Two months in here…
>Somehow, it doesn’t feel anywhere near that long
>And at the same time, it feels like you’ve been stuck in this shitty apartment for years

>Eventually, your stomach starts to hurt so bad that you have to get up
>You grab the leftovers of the pizza you ordered yesterday, finding them congealed and cold, but still force a few bites down
>When breakfast is done, you wash it down with some tapwater, then plunk yourself down at your “computer desk”
>Really, it’s just a stack of a few boxes you never bothered unpacking when you moved in, with a metal folding-chair to sit in
>You flip your laptop open, eyes straining as the white light greets them
>It’s pretty much the same way every day has started for you, for the past two years…

>Evening slowly settles in outside, and you amuse yourself as you usually do
>For a few hours, you argue philosophical interpretations of your favorite anime (today’s topic: Moral Relativism in Madoka Magica), then try and work on your actual research
>Which basically involves chewing on a pencil while trying to make sense of Information Theory
>Eventually you give up, and just lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling again
>It’s amazing how quickly time passes when you do your best to ignore it

>At around 10 o’clock, your Skype finally pings for an incoming notification
>You know who it is immediately, without even needing to read the note; there’s only one person in your friends list
>Whoever this person is, you only know them from their internet monicker, DarkWolfXX
>They’ve assured you multiple times that the name is purely ironic, but you still love to give them shit for it
>Anyway, this person — who we’ll refer to as Dark here, to keep things easy — has been your only human contact for the past year
>Not that occasional Skype PM’s are human contact, but it’s the closest thing you have
>You met them (her, you’re pretty sure, from the way they type — there’s a certain typing style that only women lapse into, usually focusing on lots of extra terminal letters and excessive smilies) on some trash forum, and the two of you got in this huge discussion about how brilliant Power Ponies: Generation NEXT was, from a shipping perspective
>Their message reads nothing more than a simple [heyy], as expected
>She’s more than a little awkward, and can barely maintain a conversation half the time, let alone initiate one
[what’s up?]
>[not much, just orderedd breakfast]
[woke up late?]
>[yeahhhhh : (]
[should probably get some food. haven’t done shit all day.]
>[haha awww :’(((]
>Dark has this weird habit of starting all her sentences with “haha” whenever she’s trying to express any sentiment other than nerd-rage
>You think it’s some sort of weird coping mechanism
>Or maybe just her overwhelming awkwardness making itself manifest
>You get lost in pondering that, for a moment, until you realize that the sweatpants you’ve been wearing for the past week have started to itch
[i’ll brb]
>You stand up from the computer, stretch, and walk over to your closet, sliding the pants off and tossing them into the heap of dirty laundry you maintain in a sort of homeostasis next to your bed
>When you open the closet to grab some new clothes, the Present is sitting there amongst your piles of belongings
>It sits on top a stack of superhero t-shirts, as if it were sitting atop an altar
>You try to avoid looking at it but, as always, your eyes scan over the white rapping and the dainty red bow (well, it used to be red; time has faded it to an ugly brown), even if just for a moment
>You grab some new pants, throw them on, then turn away from the closet
[hey, back]
>[heyy : )]
>[so how r u?]
>[not good?]
[not really]
>[haha that’s too bad : (]
>[can i helpp? :/]
[don’t think so. sorry for being mopey.]
>[hahahaha no! totally okay : )]
>[i just wanna make sure ur doing ok]
[i’ll be fine. think i’m going to drink tonight.]
>[haha okay. sounds fun! lemme know if you want to stream anything]
[no thanks]
>[haha aww, okay :( ]
>You pause for a moment, holding your hands over the keyboard
[i’d like to talk to you, though, if that’s okay]
>[oh yeahh! totally : ) ]
>[i like talking 2 u]
[same. would you be alright doing a videochat though?]
>You’re not sure why you’re so desperate to get this person in videochat
>Since the two of you started PM-ing, you’ve wanted it to go down
>Probably because that would make you feel, at least for a little bit, like you had a real friend
>Like she, or he, or whatever they are on the other end, is really with you
>[ummm… I dunno : ( sorry]
>[you would think i’m gross]
[i wouldn’t]
[i understand if you don’t want to. but please think about it.]
>[okayy i will]
[brb gonna grab booze]
>You get up from the desk again, walking into your apartment’s kitchen
>Inside the fridge, you have: half a hershey bar, three bottles of ketchup, a half-eaten package of hotdogs, eight cans of off-brand cola, and a mostly-full bottle of vodka
>You grab the bottle and a can of cola, and trudge back into your room
>To your relief, Dark is still online
>Immediately, she responds
>[u wanna talk noww?]
>[cool! i’m ready whenever u r ! :)]
[alright thanks]
>You don’t own any cups, so you just drink directly from the bottle
>The vodka is ungodly; bitter and acrid, it slips down the back of your thrown, burning everything as it descends
>Immediately you chug the can of soda
>It washes a bit of the awful flavor away, but the burning still lingers in the back of your throat, making you hack
>[u still there?]
[yeah, was trying the vodka i got]
>[ooooh. how is?]
[it’s fucking terrible]
>[haha awwwww :( poor midnight]
>Yeah, Midnight is your screenname; you’re not proud, and it’s one of the reasons you never give Dark any shit
[i’ll be fine]
[but yeah, i have a really stupid question for you. am i…]
>You hesitate, trying to figure out what to type
[am i a bad person?]
>[y do u ask? ur like my best friend lol : )]
>Another defense mechanism
[no reason. just feeling really guilty today]
>[lol awww : (( why is that?]
[not sure. just remembering some bad stuff i’ve done.]
>[like wut?]
[it’s stupid. i let down a good friend a long time ago. i miss her really bad and i don’t know what to do.]
>Dark is silent for a very long time
>[maybe you should take to her?]
[i’m way too scared. plus she probably hates me now.]
>[maybe. i had someone let me down really bad when i was in hs. i hatedd her for a really long time]
[what made you stop hating her?]
>[i don’t know really :/ ]
>[i just kind of realized i missed her a lot]
[guess we’ve got that in common]
[missing people, i mean]
>[yeahh! it’s why we’re such good friends lol :)]
[hah, yeah]
[i can see that]
>[heyy can i say something to u now?]
[of course]
>Typing that was harder than it should have been
>You shake your head, realizing that the vodka is hitting you much harder than you thought it would
>A tiny sheen of sweat is breaking out on the back of your neck, and your body feels loose, floaty, and weirdly warm
>[i’m really glad we’re friends]
>[no i mean really glad]
>[ (would it be weird if i start drinking too? it would be almost like we’re at a party together!) ]
[ha, go ahead]
>[okay, brb! :) ]
>While she goes out, you pour yourself a little more vodka
>This one goes down easier, but only because you’re face is starting to get too numb to taste it
>You flop backwards in your chair, audibly going “bleh”
>A ping sounds from your Skype
>[heyy, back! my parentss only have wine in the house lol. it’s so gross! XP ]
[wine is okay]
>[it makes me cough. but imma still drink so we can be drinking buddiess! XD ]
[hah, sounds good]
>[whoa i’m already kinda tipsy]
[ha, same though]
>[okay since i’m drinkin you can’t make fun of me for the dumb things i say, okay?? ;) ]
[i’ll try my best]
>[okay because]
>[i’m gonna tell you something really personal]
[go ahead]
>[ur my best friend]
[same, if i’m being honest]
[i don’t really have anyone else]
[you can be weird a lot of the time but you really get me and i appreciate that a lot]
>[haha yeah i’m weird :P but so are u!]
>[and i’m glad i’m ur best friend too… i’ve never been anyone’s best friend before]
>A tiny smile is starting to spread across your face
>It’s the first time you’ve felt anything — that real chest-heavy sort of feeling, not just general “Bleh I feel X” — in longer than you’re willing to try and remember
>Dark starts typing, and she continues typing for a very long time
>[heyyyy so i’m actually kinda ddrunk now XD]
[eyyy same]
>[so i’m gonna ask more dumb questions!]
[ha, go ahead]
>[r u a girl?]
[oh, yeah. you?]
.[i am too :) ]
>[can i say one more weird thingg?]
[ha of course]
>[i kinda think i have a crush on u…]
[for real?]
>[yeah… sorry, i know that’s weird XD]
>[but ur really smart and the way you type makes me think ur pretty cute]
[haha, wow]
>[sorry if that was weird to say]
[no, that’s totally fine! just really surprising, lol. nobody’s ever had a crush on me before]
>[well, sorry the first person to say it had to be another girl XD]
>[unless that’s okay w/ you?]
[of course it’s okay. i spent like half my day yesterday writing about marevelous eating out zap]
>[haha, right! :)]
[i think i’m okay doing video chat w/ u, if you still want to]
>You’re grinning like an idiot now
>Partially from the booze, and partially because talking to Dark is actually making you feel human
>You click the video-chat icon, and the swirling call icon appears
>Feeling strangely giddy, you tuck your legs under yourself and quickly arrange your hair, hoping you don’t look awful
>You probably do, but the booze is giving you levels of confidence that your tiny frame is hardly equipped for
>The call pauses, not yet going through through
>Dark messages you
>[one moment, just putting on a sweater so you don’t have to see my boobs XD]
[that wouldn’t bother me desu]
>[haha for real?]
>[because i can leave it off if you want ;) ]
>Holy shit, why is this turning you on?
[go ahead if you want]
>And then she accepts the video call
>You clamp your hands together between your thighs, trying hard not to start shaking with excitement
>The call goes through...
>And for a moment, you’re not able to process what you’re seeing
>Your first thought it “whoa, she looks a LOT like Moondancer”
>And then you realize that, of course, that’s Moondancer
>She’s sitting in a room that’s, somehow, even messier than yours: the walls are plastered with anime and Power Ponies posters, piles of trash and shelves full of figures form a sort of maze across the floor behind her
>Moondancer stares back at you, her mouth agape with shock
>And she’s naked from the waist up, her breasts hanging like cherry-topped, D-sized scoops of vanilla icecream against her chest
>”T-T-Twilight? Is t-that you?”
>Something about hearing that stutter again sends chills down your spine
“Uh… hey, Moon.”
>For a moment, the two of you can only stare at each other
>Then Moondancer yelps, blushing, and cups her hands over her breasts
>”A-Ah! I’m s-sorry… I should g-go…”
>She turns her body sideways, keeping one hand over her tits, and tries to hang up the call
“Wait! No!”
>She pauses
“I’m sorry! The friend I was talking about was you!”
>You hang your head, tears and words both seeming to spill out of you
“Please don’t leave. I miss you so much. I’m… I’m so sorry, for everything…”
>Moondancer’s eyes drop
>”Why d-did you do it?”
“I don’t know. That day… it just wasn’t a good day for me. I didn’t want to see anyone. I’m sorry it had to be on your birthday.”
>”N-not the party. I d-don’t care about the party. You n-n-never called me, or wrote to me, or… or anything. Why not?”
“I was afraid. I knew I hurt you. And I didn’t want to face it.”
>You hold your head in your hands, trying to keep your voice steady as tears spill down your face
>When you glance back up at the screen, you can see that Moondancer’s crying too
>”You w-were my only friend. And you j-just stopped t-t-talking to me… that h-hurt more than anything.”
“I know. I’m so sorry, Moon. I really am. I…”
>You pick up your laptop and drunk-stagger over to the closet, throwing its door open
“I still have the present I was going to give you. If it’ll change anything… I mean, I know it won’t but… if you want… I can give it to you…”
>Moondancer is silent
“Please, Moon. I know you might not be able to forgive me, but… I want to see you again.”
>Moondancer sighs
>”I c-c-can’t believe I fell for you twice…”
>”I’ve had a c-c-crush on you since we were eight y-y-y-years old. When you left, it k-killed me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
>You’re crying so hard you can barely see the screen
“I promise, Moon. If you come back, I won’t leave again. I promise.”
>You hug the laptop against your chest
“I just want to see you again. Please?”
>Moondancer raises her face
>You can see that it’s drenched in tears, and marred with tiny acne scars
>But there’s a beauty in her that you never realized how badly you missed
>She smiles
>”Okay. W-w-where should I meet you?”
>You send her your address, and she goes off to ask her parents for cab money

>The moment she logs offline, you slump backwards in your chair, your head spinning
>The tears are falling still, but they’re driven by relief now, instead of pain
>You try to scoop some of the more offensive trash — stuff with rotting food in it, mostly — off the floor and stuff it into your overflowing trashcan
>Then you run into the bathroom, run some water over your face, then pull the drawers open and scrabble through the half-used tubes of toothpaste and worn-down bars of soap in search of any perfume
>There’s none, of course
>Eventually you give up, and just collapse into a spot by the door, holding the still-wrapped present in your lap
>There’s a solid centimeter of dust on it now, which you brush away with your fingertips
>The dust spirals up into the air, swirling and eddying in little currents until it drops back to the carpet
>And then you hear a knock on the door behind you
>You jump to your feet so quickly that you forget how drunk you are, and go tumbling back to the floor, ending up in a heap amongst the trash
>Groaning, you stumble back upwards and pull the door open
>Moondancer is standing there, looking almost exactly how you remember her
>She’s still wearing that same stupid sweater, and hasn’t figured out anything to do with her hair other than trying it in an awkward pigtail above her head, such that loose bangs still hang in her face
>About a half-second of staring passes before the two of you throw your arms around each other
>The force of her hug is enough to topple you backwards, and the both of you go tumbling to the ground, landing in a heap amongst piles of books, food trash, and the ever-present piles of clothes
>Everything is a blur, for a moment, as you squeeze Moondancer’s scrawny body against yourself and bury your face in her hair
>She smells good; not perfume-good, but a sort of musty, human good
>More than anything, she smells, feels, and sounds like a real human being
>The simple, primal joy of human contact floods through you, and for a few minutes you can do nothing but cling to her like a child
>When the two of you finally break apart, you both sit up, smiling sheepishly at each other
>Moondancer awkwardly lays her hand against yours, as if she’s not sure if it’s alright to actually hold it
>So you make the move for her, grabbing her hand and lacing your fingers against hers
>She squeezes your palm, scooting closer to you
>After the drama earlier, it’s hard to find anything to talk about
>”I, um…”
>”I d-don’t think I brought enough money for the t-trip back…”
“We’ll worry about that later.”
>You scoot close enough to lean against her, resting your head on her sweater-cushioned shoulder
“For now, you can stay the night, okay?”
>”F-for real?”
“Of course, for real.”
>You raise your head to look her in the eye, and find her staring back at you
>And the kiss just sort of… happens
>There’s a weird sort of inevitability in some kisses; the moment you meet Moondancer’s gaze, you knew it was going to happen
>Blame it on booze, on being repressed, on whatever; you knew it was happening, and there was nothing you could to do stop it
>Moondancer’s mouth and yours gently bump together; neither of you have any idea how to actually kiss, so you just sort of touch lips for a few seconds
>Then she hugs you, nuzzling her face into your messy hair
>”You c-c-can’t ever leave me again, okay?”
>”You p-promised. You h-h-have to stay with me.”
>She pulls away, looking you in the eye
>You can see new tears leaking from behind her glasses
>”So s-s-say it one more time. P-promise you won’t leave.”
“I promise.”
>You grab both of her hands and squeeze them against your chest
“I’m not gonna leave you, Moon.”
>You kiss her again

>Your bed is hardly big enough to hold her, you, and all your stuffed animals
>So you have to snuggle together in order to fit on it, not that you really mind
>There’s so much visceral comfort in touching her, and having her touch you
>Hours pass, and the two of you just talk
>About cartoons, about what you’ve been up to lately (not very much), what you tried to do, how you failed…
>Everything comes spilling out
>Eventually you get to the point where you’ve said everything you feel like you could say, and the booze has completely worn off
>So you flop backwards into bed, exhausted, and Moondancer lays herself next to you
>She lays her head on your chest, sighing in content
>”D-do you, um… you mentioned you had the p-present?”
“Oh, yeah.”
>You get up from bed to grab the package, then place it in her lap
>Moondancer’s fingers are jittery with excitement as she peels the paper off, revealing a worn cardboard box
>Inside the box sits a locket on a (fake) golden chain, glittering dully in your dark bedroom
>It’s nothing impressive; just a ten-dollar Best Friends Forever locket you got from the local CanterMart
>Hanging from the chain is a golden circlet with Best Friends embroidered on it in Comic Sans
>And below that, held in the locket by a panel of glass, is a terrible drawing you did of Moondancer
>Her eyes are huge in some awful faux-anime style, and her hair hangs edgily over one side of her face
>All in all, it’s a terrible gift, and anyone should feel insulted by receiving it
>Moondancer’s so delighted, she starts to cry
>Immediately, she clips the locket around her neck and pulls you into a hug
>”T-thank you! T-T-Thank you, thank you, thank you…”
>She buries her face against your chest, her entire body shuddering with sobs
>”I’m s-s-s-so happy… m-missed you so bad… s-s-so happy…”
>You squeeze her back, planting kisses down her face until you eventually reach her mouth
>And the two of you stay like that, wrapped together and trading kisses as your tears spill onto each other’s faces
>There’s no way of knowing if the promise you made to Moondancer will come true
>In fact, there’s no way of knowing anything that’ll happen with the two of you
>Right now, the world is a blur of warmth, of the smell and taste of the girl you thought you lost, and so you’re not particularly concerned with the future
>Because right now, you have someone else
>And for now, that’s all you need

The End.
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>When you win the Moonerbowl in every game you play
Aww this was so very sweet, was even tearing up a little at the end.
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Two times champion, my man.
>Traitors count as people.
Shut up IceMan, go back to Timber.
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Go eat some cold pizza you roachiod fuck.

Don't know who that is.
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Hello, IceMan here, I have come to talk to you about my husbando, Timber Spruce.

He loves to tease me because I am a beta wizard and cuckolds me with other men that are manlier than me.

Also I only eat pizza when it's burned to a crisp.
>pic related
Hey, I'm perfectly fine if he cuckolds me with other men. Is it really cuckolding if you're not interested in the other person?

Who is this Timber character anyways? Is it your boyfriend?
he is yours
I like you IceMan, I just like to fuck with you, you are a nice KGB spy.
Old Man Logan, great comic, though it's confusing as fuck why they went for a different thing with the (2016) run than what they started in (2015).
Makes no sense.
Actually, scratch that, they went back to it out of fucking nowhere which is even more confusing.
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would you play a writefag dating sim?
I would honestly play that
I-ironically of course
>Twilight always mutters to herself about how there was no real reason to bring Starlight Glimmer to the human world.
>Maybe Sunset could have figured out how to avoid getting sucked into the mirror after seeing Juniper's memory.
>But now Sunset's time has been more devoted towards Starlight ever since she stayed more often.
>Her presence has begun to devour the time between Twilight and Sunset.
>Even after all Twilight and Sunset have been through.
>It was easy to see in Sunset's eyes that she was more than aware of this. The way she looked at the floor, frowning.
>Giving Twilight a guilty look every time Starlight came up in conversation.
>What was going on was so obvious, and what was about to be going on was practically inevitable.
>Sunset already knew Starlight's new address, and vice versa; it was only a matter of time before things started... happening.
>And each day that marched towards this hypothetical day tore Twilight's heart in two little by little.
>Sunset's eyes got lost in Starlight's eyes about as increasingly often as Twilight's eyes getting lost in the surface of the floor through her tears.
>Neither of the girls wanted to bring it up. On Twilight's end, even just thinking about it hurt enough.
>Sunset stayed silent because she knew this; she knew Twilight more well than anyone else, though, it probably wouldn't be the same way back for long.
>Alone time flooded its way into Twilight's schedule. Replacing the time she would have spent with Sunset.
>Which only made the divergence even more apparent.
>Which only made it all hurt more.
>It took an entire five months for Twilight to finally muster up enough resistance to the malaise to confront her long time lover.
>"I... I just really, really need to ask you something." Her heart wretched as she spoke to Sunset, knowing too well what she might discover in this conversation.
>Sunset could immediate tell that this question Twilight was about to ask was more difficult to get out there than the first time She asked her out on a date.
>She didn't even bother asking if everything was okay; there was no need. "What's wrong?"
>Twilight's heart's fear of breaking was heard in the purple girl's voice. "Are you and Starlight getting... you know... close?" A shiver made Twilight's hands ball up into fists. "I mean like... close like you and I are."
>The spotlight had started glared down on Sunset. And she didn't feel like she liked it.
>Fumbling in her mind for an excuse. A way out.
>"Why are you..." Sunset reluctantly stuttered. "...thinking that way?"
>Twilight's gasp let in all the air she needed to spill it all out to Sunset.
>"Because you two are always together now, and you're never spending any time with me anymore! I know the way you look at her is the same way you used to look at me! I'm not gullible." Twilight wants this to end now, but with resolution.
>"I'm NOT gullible, Sunset. Just tell me now so I can sleep tonight! Are you... with her?"
>They both already know.
>All Sunset has to do is confirm it so she's not a liar.
>All Sunset would need to do is confirm it... and Twilight's heart would be in two forever.
>Twilight already knows it's coming, but she knows it's either now or later. It's too late to go back.
>She's willing to exchange her dying faith in Sunset for closure.
>"Yes." Sunset promptly answered, with her own heart breaking first.
>The exact same word that completed Twilight's heart ages ago is the same word that makes it follow Sunset's heart in breaking.
>Sunset's eyes are the first to tear up, not having prepared for this moment. Twilight's eyes don't last much longer.
>"Is it... is it over?" Sunset's mouth curls into a sharp frown, her voice quivering.
>Twilight weakly slams her hands on the kitchen table in her house; she finally remembered where she was.
>"No! Nothing is over!"
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>Sunset begins to feel dizzy. "N-nothing?"
>"I don't want anything to be over!" Twilight reveals the biggest thing she was afraid of to come from this moment. "I don't wanna let it be over! Not with you!"
>Her arms shake as she leans on them, before giving way.
>And Twilight collapses with Sunset guiltily putting her arm around her.
>"I... w-wanna f-f-fix... this..." Twilight croaks as she breaks down in quiet tears.
>She did want to fix it, but she didn't want to have to fix it.
>Sunset couldn't remember what she said next; her head was spinning too much.
>The only thing that stuck with her was what she felt, not anything either of them said from that point on for the rest fo the day.
>Sunset's conversations with Starlight were not the same.
>It was very easy for Starlight to sense something was wrong. She asked immediately, not waiting a day.
>But Sunset waited over a week to give a straight answer.
>A straight answer was necessary after the subtle cues that something was actually horribly wrong.
>Subtle cues like breaking down crying in front of Starlight... on the bed... before they both got dressed again.
>Starlight's own heart sank as soon as Twilight's name was mentioned.
>The girl took it for granted that she never found out. And felt the weight of Twilight's pain through the tears rolling down Sunset's face.
>"I can't end it with her!" Sunset finally utters after a minute long pause. "She refused to end it with me."
>Starlight sits and listens at the foot of the bed. Her fingers locked together and her heart pounding.
>"I can't remember everything she said, but she wants to confront you and I together."
>Starlight's heart speeds up in anxiety. "Confront how?"

Confront how?
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Twighlight takes in Appeljack's thicc wiener
Samurai style fight.
Two go in, one gets out.
Three way. The one with the most passion wins.
She's so dorky and cute.
She's perfect.

shit boys I need to get back into lucid dreaming, but I don't have the discipline. It was so much easier when I was in school because I had a regular sleep schedule.
Man, I can't even sleep deeply enough to regular dream.
I always get nightmares of war and shooting kids when I try to lucid dream.
>You are Rainbow Dash.
>You’re the best at a lot of things, but not the best at hiding your anger.
>Sadly, the others aren’t paying much attention to the glaring problem in the cafeteria.
>Stabbing at your salad idly, you can’t help but wonder why the other girls have forgotten about his sins.
>Anonymous, the cocky son of a bitch, currently sits no more than twenty feet away, sitting beside the wannabe magician and the mentally disabled siren, Sonata.
>They’re talking it up like no tomorrow, their food all but forgotten as they prattle on about whatever it is social outcasts talk about.
>The two act like they’re talking to someone who’s their equal, someone who deserves to be their friend.
>Shaking your head and clearing it of past thoughts, you turn to the speaker.
“What about Singsong?”
>Twilight takes a moment to drink from her water before looking up to you.
>”Oh, I was asking if anyone knew anything about this Singsong guy. Anon and I were talking last night, and he—”
>You don’t know why, but all of the girls, save for Twilight, are eying you warily at this point.
>It may or may not be due to the snarl on your face, of which is followed by a slight twitch in the eye, but you’re not certain.
“So you don’t know?”
>Maybe it was the way you said it, maybe it’s how you leaned towards her, who knows.
>Either way, Twilight looks quite uncomfortable all of a sudden.
>”T-told me what?”
>Sunset, offering your shoulder a hand, tries to step in, probably thinking that you were on the verge of snapping.
>You give her a flat look, not bothering to hide the pissed-off glint in your eye.
“Don’t tell me that you forgot about what he did?”
>There’s a flash of anger in her eyes, though you’re not sure if it’s entirely directed at you.
>”We don’t know if he even did anything, it’s Grizzly’s word versus his.”
>Twilight, now rubbing her arm and with eyes darting between you and Sunset, speaks up with the voice that’s more reminiscent of Fluttershy.
>”Oh, uhm, I… N-nevermind, heheheh…”
>Oh hell no.
“No way am I letting you walk into that mess, Twilight,” you say while jabbing a thumb in his direction, “friends don’t let friends step on landmines.”
>Holding up a hand to hold back any responses that would be had from the indignant group of friends, you take a moment to stand and take a seat beside Twilight.
>Scooching up against said bookworm, you wrap an arm around her shoulder before speaking, your voice loud enough to carry to adjacent tables.
“So, once upon a time, there were four amigos…”
>Holding up four fingers in front of Twilight’s face, trying to sound as casual as possible, you begin to count down.
”There’s Grizzly, pretty weird guy who sometimes tried to flirt with me, but was still a pretty cool guy. Friends with all the other three.”
>He’s still suspended from getting caught yesterday, so you just continue on with a small twirl of the wrist, jabbing a thumb in your own chest.
”There’s yours truly, trying to get the most out of her freshman year, also tryin’a be a good friend as I can to everyone…”
>You don’t have anyone to point to for the next bit, so instead just let your hand hold up the two remaining fingers.
“There was also Singsong, a pretty cool guy, also happened to be my boyfriend at the time. Sure, he was a junior, but we didn’t care, we had something deeper.”
>Counting down to one last finger, you point at Anonymous.
“And then enter him.”
>Releasing her shoulder, you take a moment to lean back in your seat, trying to calm your rising anger.
“So the four of us were all a real close bunch, yeah? We went camping together, shooting, parties, you name it.”
>A trace of a rueful smile hits your face as the memories come seeping back in, though you’d be lying if you didn’t say that you think about those moments near daily.
>”Sounds… nice?”
>Twilight sounds very unsure of herself, as if you’re explaining a trick question.
>You offer her a smile, and a genuine one at that, before pulling her close again.
“Oh, it was, trust me. It was kind’a like our group here, ‘cept a bit smaller and a lot more… rowdy.”
>There comes a few half-suppressed chuckles from among the table, memories coming back of the infamous group’s shenanigans around the campus.
“But, it’s play season, yeah? We were putting up, uh, what was it called?”
>”Groundhog Day?”
“Thanks, Pinkie. Yeah, Groundhog Day!”
>As you go on telling the story, however, you can’t help the slow souring of your mood.
“Singsong got a minor lead, Anonymous as one of the four more important roles, Grizz and I got background characters, but that’s not the point.”
>You turn your attention back onto Anonymous, grinding your teeth as he enjoys his newfound company.
“It’s closing night, yeah? We all just got done tearing down the set, and Anon told me he got drinks for him and Singsong, but I kiss Singsong goodbye anyway, thinking that he deserved some fun after all the hard work, yeah?”
>Most of the others at the table are now downcast, each one of your friends remembering the night in their own distinct ways.
>Well, all save for Twilight and Sunset.
>The former looks at you quizzically, wondering what could go wrong, while the other looks indignant and skeptical at you.
>”We don’t know for sure,” are Sunset’s choice words before she turns her attention back to her meal, not caring whether you had anything more to say or not.
>The tone in her voice and the disappointed look in her eye is normally enough to make you think that maybe, just maybe, you’re in the wrong.
>But this isn’t a normal situation.
>This is one of those times that you just have to be sure in yourself.
>You have to be, for him.
“So Singsong and Anon are enjoying themselves, partying like no tomorrow, yeah…? ”
>This is pretty nice, actually.
>Be Anonymous, and be rather pleased at today’s outcome.
>Aside from the pungent aroma of chemicals wafting through the room, it’s quite nice to have company besides Vinyl’s mother this time around.
>You were quite pleased, and downright surprised, to see a great number of Vinyl’s friends come to visit the hospital.
>Of course, it was a bit of a chore introducing each of them to Gooseberry, Vinyl’s mother, but you didn’t mind.
>The sheer joy on the aging mother’s face made it all worth it.
>The devastated and dead look in her eyes from the past two days was enough to give you a vicarious depression.
>It’s a nice change of pace, seeing her smile.
>You’d guess about twenty or so students of CHS came in total, though most left rather quickly, as it’s not been more than a half an hour later after their arrival.
>Only about six or so remain.
>Two of them are forgettable at best and complete faggots at worst, but the other four?
>”Hi’ya, Nannymoose!”
>They’re not too bad.
“Hey, Sonata, long time no see.”
>You’d just met the enthusiastic little jackass earlier today, of course, but the sarcasm is completely lost on her.
>”Like, right?!”
>She takes to your side, copying your style of leaning against the stark white wall.
>Rather than engage in further conversation, however, she merely follows your eyes and stares at the resting Vinyl.
>And so you two enjoy the pleasant silence together, both trying to ignore the idle chatter of Trixie retelling of her tales with Vinyl to Gooseberry off by the bedside.
>The silence, however, lets your mind slowly drift off to the newest additions to the room.
>Namely the three Dazzling sisters, two of whom are sitting across from Gooseberry and Trixie, their faces sharing a similar level of solemn concern as any other.
“Thanks for coming, by the way.”
>You don’t look away from Vinyl, but your peripherals spot Sonata giving you a bashful smile.
>”It’s nothin’, boss.”
>You shoot her a shrug.
“Still, good to know that some of Vinny’s friends won’t jump ship soon as things turn south.”
>You know that Sonata and her sisters are only sophomores and that any friendship that they had with Vinyl was estranged at best, but it’s still nice that they care at least somewhat about her.
>Sonata elbows you in the side.
>”Don’t look so glummy, boss, you look like she’s never gonna’ wake up.”
>You give her a glance, though you can’t return the hopeful smile.
“Glummy isn’t a wor—”
>”Like, cheer up already!”
>Another elbow in the side.
>Okay, enough of that shit.
>Tousling her blue head of hair before she can react, you’re surprised to hear the little scamp’s giggle as she scuttles away.
>And, for a moment, a smile grows on your face as you lock eyes with the sophomore.
>Before you two can exchange further words, however, there comes the sound of the room’s door opening.
>Taking your eyes off of her, you pry yourself from the wall and turn to greet the newcomers, honestly surprised that anyone else would come this near to the end for visiting hours.
>A smile initially graces your lips as you see the initial six newcomers, but your look of confidence falters when you spot the last two, of whom are shooting you grimaces.
>The stupid cunt, and the young woman who would never love him back...
>Rainbow Dash.
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Sorry for delay since last update, got distracted watching SS13 clips and also got a bit of writer's block for how to progress the story from here. Don't be worried, though, as the updates will come in normally now, and expect another update either later today or early tomorrow. Pasty—https://pastebin.com/phPMVFcM

Until next time, you glorious bastards, and kudos to those few who guessed at who was the next POV, as I'd originally written four or five retakes on this update, and nearly everyone's guess turned out right, as I tried writing the next bit from several perspectives until it all clicked in my head.
This isn't /v/, you cunt.
This feels very emotional have you been through huge breakup before
This is >>>/c/uck
>he doesn't want to smell her grape scented scalding hot methane
Kys my man
>Shitting on Sonata.
The nerve of this cunt.
Good green so far.
I don't think Twilight will outright believe RD on this one, she has the mind of a scientist, after all.
Judging by this dude's trip I don't think he's been in a relationship to begin with.
Also judging by his trip I think this will end really badly.
this desu
Perfection only comes from human instrumentality.
go to sleep jeff
>'I-I'm not real..!'
But what is reality? How can we be real if our eyes aren't real?
"How can mirrors be real if our eyes aren't real?"
Dykeshit is the lowest form of entertainment
no it isnt, just look at straightshit
Friendshit master race
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Threadly reminder that Croix did nothing wrong.
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technodyke surprisingly fits in this thread
too bad that the woman she loves is straight
I like that picture, so I think that will be the next OP
It captures her essence very well.
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There shouldn't have been an over the top plot for this animu. It should've just been about cute witches doing cute witch things; the characters are the best thing about it.
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There's always season 2 for that. Hopefully.
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Little Dyke Academia
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>Trigger anime
>season 2
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Don't you kill my dreams. Everyone knows the magic is in believing.
you do know inferno cop season 2 was announced

iceman you didnt even know who croix was before yesterday
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Shut your whore mouth, Jojo. You're just mad because Ursula's a slut, while Croix is pure.
>local IceMan has the worst taste in literally everything ever
utterly unsurprising
New thread


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