Some weird person who writes stories about ponies. You should probably just ignore him.
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54w, 4dHiatus 50 comments · 129 views
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71w, 1dI Must Be Slowing Down in My Old Age 14 comments · 69 views
74w, 3dCollab Fun-Time 12 comments · 86 views
75w, 22hContext 13 comments · 102 views
77w, 2hGrinning from Ear to Ear 10 comments · 101 views
Your mouse cursor hovers over the link.
You don’t know what could happen. Sure, it’s just a link, but you can feel an ominous sense of foreboding. That feeling could be the link, or it could be your breakfast from this morning. You can’t remember what you ate which is probably for the best.
Mulling it over for a few moments, you finally mutter, in the words of your late-cousin Eddie (just before he stuck a fork into an electrical outlet), “What could go wrong?”
You click the link.
Nothing happens. You glance around expectantly, as though space should start shifting and bending around you. You chuckle at your overreaction. "I shouldn't be so jumpy!”
That’s when space begins to start shifting and bending around you.
You leap from your chair, but it’s no use! Where are you going to go? The rest of the basement seems to be unaffected (a good thing, too, as your mother would kill you if you did anything to her blue-ribbon cactus). Unfortunately, it seems that you are. Being affected, I mean. You gaze at your hand, which seems to be stretching, twisting, all before finally fading away into nothingness. You make a mental note to ask your nutritionist if this counts towards your weekly weight loss goal.
You observe as the rest of you, starting from the feet up, begins to disappear. There is little you can do, and you’re quite thankful that everything below your waist has disappeared. If it hadn't, you're fairly confident you would have peed your pants several times by now. Eventually only your head is left. And as that disappears as well, the last you think is; This is going to be one of those days, isn’t it?
And then you're gone.
As your head begins to reform on the top of your body, you look around. Well, you would look, but your eyes haven't materialized yet. You wait patiently, and when your eyes do form, you quickly look around your new location. It most certainly isn’t your basement. It's far too dry. Instead, it seems you’re inside some sort of library, one with a rustic feel. Actually, you’ve no idea what rustic really looks like. But you do know there’s a lot of wood. The walls, ceiling, floor, furniture, everything's made of wood! Well, okay, the carpet isn’t. And there are a few vases. There's also a good number of shelves lined with books, but since books are made of paper (which come from trees) you think they should count towards the high percentile of wood in the building. You smile at your brilliant logical deduction.
That smile lasts for little more than a moment. You attribute that to your disorientation from being transported, your confusion at just what happened, and the fact that you’re now looking into the eyes of a purple cartoon unicorn, obvious proof that you’ve gone insane. You contemplate finding an inanimate object to talk to and share your troubles with when you suddenly notice that this purple pony is, in fact, Twilight Sparkle.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” she cries. “I really need your help!”
“Indeed,” you respond tactfully. This was turning out to be an odd day indeed. You quickly summarize your current situation in your head; you seemed to be in some alternate dimension (Most likely My Little Pony because, well, why the hell not?) and Twilight Sparkle needs your help.
What are you going to do?