Indulgence

by Quill of Filth

Remedy For Pain

"Pinkie? Could you do me a favor?"

Leaning down with a mitt in her mouth, Pinkie grabbed the baking tray out from the blistering heat of the oven. Pivoting and using a hindleg to shut the oven door, she trotted to the counter with an organized chaos of baking supplies and placed the tray down in an empty space.

"Uh-huh," Pinkie chirped, examining the perfectly formed exquisite and warm cookies laced with extra sugar.

Mr. Cake raised a brow. "Are we already out of sugar cookies?"

"Yep! It's been super-duper busy this week."

"Speaking of which, I was wondering if you could go get the mail? And afterwards, if you'd like, you can take today off."

"Okie dokie!" Pinkie replied.

"Thank you," Mr Cake said, departing through the saloon doors.

Outside Sugarcube Corner, a lone pink mailbox stood. The door to the mailbox mysteriously fell open, a pair of cerulean eyes opening in its shadows.

The familiar pink mare began to crawl out of the mailbox. Her hooves touched the dirt except for a hindhoof that was stuck in the mailbox, and a forehoof holding the mail.

She examined the first letter at the top, using her mane to slide it in the back after she finished reading it. Cycling through the not so fun taxes, she stopped on one, noticing her name written in flowy, fancy, almost calligraphic writing– except for a few jitters. "Hm," Pinkie mused.

Removing her hindleg from the mailbox she trotted back into Sugar Cube Corner.

Mr. And Mrs. Cake were at the front counter conversing.

"We've had a busy week," Mrs. Cake confirmed.

"Here you go!" Pinkie chirped, leaving the other stacks on the counter, and failing to see the perplexed expression from Mr. Cake as he looked from the kitchen to the front door.

Pinkie began up the stairs.

"You'd think I'd get used to her doing that by now," Mr. Cake said.

Shutting the door inside her room, she sauntered to her bed and plopped on it, bouncing up and down a few times, fixated on the letter in her hooves…

She flipped the letter over, bulging a conspiratorial eye as she examined its lines and creases. Bringing the letter to her nose, her nostrils flared as she sniffed, then lifting her head, she raised a brow with pursed her lips.

Shrugging, she tore it open with a content smile, expecting at worst for flying snakes to explode forth. Instead, golden confetti popped out, making Pinkie giggle.

Her eyes wide, brimming with excitement, she began to read.

Hello, Pinkie Pie! You're invited to the luxurious establishment of Nepenthe! It's all about the party, and you're considered the heart and mastermind of them! We'd like your input on how to make our experience more enjoyable, appealing, and most of all fun and the best it can be for our customers! We get a smile from seeing the smiles, especially after a dark day, it gives us a purpose and a reason to continue forward! And we'd like your help to see more! If you're interested, we reside in Las Pegasus! Hopefully, we'll see you there!

Sincerely, D.

Pinkie lowered the letter, staring blankly while in thought.

Possibilities of what the place could look like cycled through her mind: ponies laughing as they all played party games, ponies laughing as they enjoyed their meals, ponies laughing enjoying the time they spent together. A wonderland of fun all so ponies could enjoy themselves and have a good time.

Pinkie smiled.

She darted out the door, practically tumbling down the stairs.

"Hey, Mrs. Cake! I'm going to Las Pegasus! I should be back later today or tomorrow!"

"Oh," Mrs. Cake replied, taken aback for a moment by the sudden declaration. "Okay then. Stay safe and be back soon, okay, dear?"

"Will-can-do!" Pinkie called, waving while trotting backwards out of Sugarcube Corner.

The smell of the revitalizing morning air filled Pinkie's nostrils as she trotted down the steps, the sound of a creaking nearby wagon prompting a sidelong glance. Earning her full attention, her eyes lit up as she pivoted and waved her hoof in a blur.

"Hey, Applejack!"

The gamboge earth pony stopped, unlatching herself from the cart with a smile. "Hiya, Pinkie! Where ya headin' off to?"

"I'm heading to Las Pegasus!"

Applejack raised a brow. "Yeah? What for?" She asked, sauntering to the back of the haul. She heaved a wooden bucket from the cart, letting it rest on her back.

"I got a letter from a pony who wanted my help with their business since I'm the heart of the party," Pinkie said, placing a hoof to her chest.

"Are you sure that's a great idea?" Applejack asked, sauntering toward her.

"Why not?"

Applejack stopped in front of Pinkie, "Not to be too cynical, sugarcube, but a lot of places over there ain't the best, some even rotten to the core, unlike these beauties," she noted, turning a bit to show off the apples in the bucket.

"Have you been there before?"

"Yeah," Applejack muttered and borderline glowered. "And I reckon if my previous experience is anything to go off of, it probably won't be great. But who knows, maybe I'm jumpin' to conclusions," Applejack muttered, passing Pinkie.

Turning, Pinkie smiled. "You most undoubtedly are," she confirmed in jest, closing her eyes with a slight bow of her head.

"I suppose if I tagged along I could find out myself," she said, walking up the steps, "but I've been mighty busy helpin' run a business of my own."

"Or you just don't want to be proven wrong," Pinkie replied in a sing-song voice, with lidded eyes.

Maintaining her smile, Applejack rolled her eyes before she looked over her shoulder. "Just– be safe, alright, Pinkie?"

"What's the worst that can happen? I go there and leave having an existential crisis? I have a Pinkie Sense after all," she said, her frizzy tail vibrating on cue.

Applejack looked up, her emerald eyes searching the morning sky.

Pinkie giggled.

The farm pony smiled shaking her head, entering into the building.

Pinkie bounced away from Sugar Cube Corner with a bubbly smile.

---

Pinkie's forelegs draped over the side of her hot air balloon, the wind ruffling her cotton candy mane as she looked down on the distant landscape of Equestria, now beyond the vast green plains, seeing shimmering lakes, rivers, and cascade forests.

Part of her wished Gummy came with her so she could play I Spy. Gummy was the master at it. She could've played with Applejack, but Applejack had chores to do to keep the family business going, and from what she knew, with the help of a busted water shoot, it was hard work, and not really fun. But, from the sound of it, the business she was visiting may be the opposite of that.

She just hoped it wouldn't be like the Gala– which did actually get better since the first time she went. A little bit. A tiny bit. An itty-bitty bit.

She thought the Gala was going to be quite the shindig, but of course, it fell short of her expectations, face first. Now however, her expectations were lower, and it did surpass it a few times with some of the experiences and memories she made. But this place sounded promising, and she hoped it lived up to her expectations.

Her gaze lifted up towards the clouds, seeing a distant city above a lake.

The balloon ascended, swimming through the sea of clouds in the blue sky. The clouds grew dense before she burst forth, now above the 'ground' of the city.

Landing on the designated platform, she hopped out, tying off a knot to keep her balloon in place before she gazed at the city in all its exciting extravaganza.

Trotting over the bridge, she looked around wide-eyed with her mouth slightly agape, seeing various large elaborate structures and even a distant ferris wheel. Despite the sight-seeing, she reminded herself to stay on the path and away from the edges so she didn't fall through the clouds.

She continued around, scanning various building names and logos, until she noticed a pegasus with unfurled wings and a wobble as she walked as if they had been spun around and asked to pin the tail on the pony.

The pegasus flapped their wings, managing to get off the ground but their wing beats alternated out of sync, causing them to drop back down with a stumble. They tried again, managing to actually fly but not very well or steady. It reminded Pinkie somewhat of Twilight when she first got wings, making her internally giggle a bit.

Down the road where the pegasus came from, a sign that seemed promising snagged her attention, prompting her to head in that direction.

The explosive and attention grabbing sign read Nepenthe and the building climbed high and dwarfed many others nearby.

Giddy, Pinkie pranced in place before trotting inside. The first thing she was greeted with was a sign that advertised some sort of party with masks tomorrow, then neon lights accentuating the semi-opulent architecture and shapes, along with a carpet with almost psychedelic patterns that were mostly red and black. Passing the threshold, it opened into a spacious room, housing a plethora of ponies who were partaking in mini games and–

"Hello, is there anything I can help you with?"

Looking over, Pinkie noticed a pale pegasus mare with a clean suit, wearing a tight tuxedo vest with a white undershirt, a black mane in a bun, and cerise eyes.

"Yes, indeedy!" Pinkie reached into her mane pulling out the letter, "The owner, Mr. D, contacted me because he needed my help."

The mare's cerise eyes skimmed over the note. Raising a brow, she lowered the letter, examining Pinkie who was grinning ear to ear. She enunciated each word slowly, "Right this way then."

Pinkie bounced behind her until eventually, they arrived at a corridor with a fairly inconspicuous door at the end.

The mare knocked on the door.

"Come in," a muffled voice replied.

The mare opened the door, allowing both to enter.

Pinkie's eyes widened when she saw who was sitting at the desk. It wasn't a pony at all, but some sort of bipedal creature. He wore a black tuxedo with a red undershirt, had a short goatee with a light mustache, mini horns poking out of his forehead, and goat legs kicked up on the table while holding a wineglass of some sort of blood red liquid.

"Well, if it isn't the one and only Mrs. Pinkamena Diane Pie," he said in admiration, getting out of his chair.

"Hello, Mr. D," Pinkie greeted, extending a hoof forward.

He took it with his left hand, "Some call me Desire," he said in jest, wiggling his eyebrows to the mare behind her, "but I prefer Dilate, but you can call me whatever you'd like," he finished, looking down at her with a smile, shaking it gently.

Pinkie examined the smile, noticing it seemed genuine on its surface. But something was off; it was extremely faint, vague, opaque, like there were small cracks in his visage. It had a strange.. reminiscence.

Alongside it was the feeling as if he was hiding something under his sleeve, but that he wanted to keep it that way. She made note of it but dismissed it for the time being, content with her overall assessment.

Dilate turned around with a sly smile extending another wine glass in his left hand, "Care for a drink?"

Pinkie glanced at the crimson liquid. She hadn't drank anything in a while. She saved it for, in her words, super-duper omega special occasions with her friends– or Cider Season, particularly on the first day– but it was tempting to say those occasions were everyday with the friends she had.

She shook her head. "No thanks."

"Really? Are you sure? It's the best drink I've had. One drink wouldn't hurt, right?"

"Nope!" Pinkie replied, raising her head, waving a hoof across.

Dilate's brow knitted as he quirked his lip, retracting the glass a bit. His visage returned to his normal smile as he brought the glass to the other, pouring it almost to the brim, "Not much of a drinker?"

"Sometimes I do, occasionally with my friends. But otherwise, neh," Pinkie dismissed with a downward swipe of a hoof.

"I wasn't really either," he admitted, "but here I am. Life happens," he finished, drinking the remaining liquid. "But I'm surprised you made it here."

"What do you mean?" Pinkie asked.

"I assume you know how business goes up here," he replied, passively placing the empty glass on the table.

Pinkie's mind traveled back to what Applejack told her. She scrunched one side of her face. "Not really."

Pinkie gave the room a once-over, noticing a table next to the wall riddled with stacks of paper and documents, and a white board on the wall with various notes and writings, one phrase standing out saying: The Three H's, written in marker. But the actual words that started with the 'H' were too small to see.

On Dilate's oak desk itself were a few papers with strange scribbles, some looking irritated, and others.. like hieroglyphs? At the corner of the desk sat a vase with strange trumpet shaped white flowers, with sharp prongs erecting from the petals.

"Oooo, what are these?" Pinkie inquired, trotting to the flowers and leaning forward.

Dilate raised his voice, "I wouldn't get near those," he admonished, his voice lowering upon getting Pinkie's attention.

"Why not?"

He paused for a moment as if searching for the right words. "They're... dangerous."

Pinkie raised a brow. "Then why do you have them?"

"Let's just say they're a souvenir," he grumbled, waving away with his freehand.

Pinkie looked back at the flowers, their presence now eliciting an eerie undertone.

"Anyway," Dilate resumed, his tone brightening, "I guess we should get started. How about a tour?"

"Fine by me!" Pinkie exclaimed, attempting to rekindle her enthusiasm.

He opened and held the door with a wineglass still in hand, allowing Pinkie to pass through, giving him a smile as thanks. She sauntered down the corridor, entering back into the spacious room.

"We have a vast amount of party games," he gestured with his left hand. "Varying from slots, to wheels of fortune, to poker– it's all very popular among our guests."

Pinkie could see various ponies playing mini games at machines or tables, all of them smiling with wineglasses or bottles in hoof or aura, a cheer erupting from a distant table, alluding to a big win.

"That over there is where I think you'd be most interested. Perhaps you'd like to see our selection of sugary sweets."

Pinkie followed his finger seeing a section at the side that seemed to house a kitchen.

"And that way is where guests can check into our own hotel rooms that are above us," he said, gesturing to a large staircase at the end of the room.

"So, any ideas on where you'd like to begin to make this place more fun?"

"What's the best thing you offer compared to other places?" Pinkie asked.

"That would probably be our drinks. We have some exotic flavors and concoctions..." His expression shifted, his brows furrowing as he gazed behind her.

She turned, seeing a pony approaching with a stern visage, smoke billowing from the cigar in his muzzle. His mane was slicked back and his features were sharp even though he appeared to be an older stallion. It was as if he was resisting the aging process or found some fountain of youth solution in a bottle.

"Dilate," the pony greeted with a faux smile.

"Doctor," he greeted with a hint of insincerity. "Come to cure another victim?"

"We have some things to discuss about your business," he said sternly. The stallion smiled at Pinkie. "if you'd excuse us for a few minutes."

Dilate sauntered away with the pony alongside him.

Perplexed, Pinkie watched them depart for a few moments, before she surveyed her surroundings. She spun around in a circle, feasting her eyes upon the constant stimulation, entertainment, and eye candy. There were constant distractions everywhere, begging, calling, enticing for her attention. You could almost get lost in it.

Almost. Something felt off. The distractions and aesthetics felt substance-less somehow, banal, surface level, lacking any depth, empty at their cores. Despite probably being heretical to someone like Rarity, she wasn't too concerned about it, waving it off, instead, the feeling of the party did perturb her.

She'd gotten an inkling of it from Dilate, but now observing the party itself, it was more apparent and potent. The fun felt almost fraudulent, spoiled, illusionary. The ambiance was lively but somehow felt… lifeless. The little areas of rambunctious behavior should've been more appealing, especially to someone like her, but even the Gala, though mostly boring, had some genuine fun despite its more dignified and pompous nature, but here it was nowhere near the same vein. Like a dark carnival; it felt more… insidious.

Her eyes surveyed the chaotic fun, seeing all the commotion, the chatting, the joking... the drinking.

Her gaze traveled beyond to what looked like the center of the room, a hot spot of activity where a circular bar seemed to be, with neon letters at the top surrounding its circumference with the words: Pleasure Island. Above the sign appeared to be withered branches and limbs of a tree.

Ambling forward, she had to maneuver between ponies, which got more difficult as she neared the island bar. The density reached a point where she turned and twisted her body, no longer able to weave through. Despite bumping, nudging, and squeezing past ponies on her way through, offering a few whoopsies and sorrys, little paid her any mind.

Arriving at the bar where a plethora of ponies sat, she saw plenty of drinks on display and what looked to be the tree roots crawling up pillars and the walls. It had a strange aura emanating from it. Climbing on to what appeared to be a one of the only vacant stools, she read the different names for the drinks: Divine Daiquiri, Alicorn Mead, Alicorn Ale, Endorphin Elixir, and in large letters– Soma, and Lotus Root.

Pinkie swiveled on the stool, surveying the party further, her scrutinizing eyes darting between ponies expressions but most of all, there smiles.

The smiles weren't forced. But they looked… possessed? She supposed it's what it meant to be under the influence.

She had a passing thought weighing if alcohol just really revealed the truth of who one was, removing the 'filter'. She herself couldn't help but say what was on her mind sometimes, even without drinking, especially around her friends, or when she was happy. But deep down, she felt it wasn't exactly true, but she couldn't exactly articulate why. Maybe because it distorted who one really was instead?

Upon further inspection, she noticed that many ponies didn't have Cutie Marks.

She felt a surge of semi déjà vu, the strand of skepticism amplifying.

Hoof touching her chin, theories and ideas jumped in her mind as she began to postulate what was occurring. The best she had to offer was that their was a giant conspiracy involving a secret syndicate running the casino and that the drinks were enchanted to keep ponies hypnotized and trapped. It was fullproof.

Except that ponies didn't appear 'hypnotized', they just appeared to be having a good time–

A pony with a hoof wrapped around another fell back, bringing the other along, intertwining their fates as both wineglasses in their hooves flung golden liquid through the air as they hit the floor.

Recklessly.

"Anything I can get you, ma'am?"

Swiveling back, she saw a pegasus stallion bartender who appeared to have a more slim stature with a thin mustache.

The thought of having a drink entered her mind. She realized she could see for herself, after all, even if she was wrong it wouldn't hurt to have just one, right? But if she was right then she may be under the spell.

"You wouldn't happen to know what's in the drinks, would you?" Pinkie asked, attempting to act nonchalant by resting a foreleg on the counter and turning her head.

"Uh, well, it depends on what you wish to try, but most of our concoctions are made of things that make them taste as good as alcohol allows. A personal favorite of mine is Divine Daiquiri. It's pleasantly strong but not overpowering. Pretty smooth as well."

Pinkie's mind raced as she weighed her options. She internally relented. "Uh, I'm a pretty big fan of water!" She offered with a brittle smile.

The bartender's expression shifted to one of slight intrigue. He quirked a brow. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," she affirmed with a nod. "Hydration is important," she added, punching to the side with her hoof.

"Al-right then," he replied, leaving her while attempting to shrug off the slightly idiosyncratic display.

Tossing her previous theory mostly out, she continued to think.

Her ears flicked to the sound of someone yelling. Looking over through the crowd for the source, her curious eyes laid upon a stallion at a blackjack table with an irate expression staring flames at the dealer.

The dealer had his hooves up as a de-esculating gesture but the stallion was having none of it.

"I want my bits back!"

The ambient chatter that muffled the voice started to diminish.

The dealer replied but his voice was inaudible.

"I don't care! GIVE ME MY BITS BACK!"

Two stallions in black suits approached the table, conversing with the stallion. The stallion abruptly flipped the table, sending a mess of cards and chips to the floor. He was then swiftly restrained, held by his forelegs as he was dragged away.

"It's all rigged!" The stallion yelled, kicking, as he was dragged toward the exit.

Pinkie scanned around, surveying ponies reactions, but after a few moments, the chatting resumed, as if nothing had transpired. The ponies continued their jovial discussions, rough banter, and guffaws, in a state of ignorant bliss or apathy.

Some ponies couldn't handle being the losing-loser-pants, Pinkie thought, Rainbow Dash entering her mind making her smile. But as quick as the smile came, it vanished, her muzzle now stricken with a frown.

The sound of something sliding on the counter in front of her pulled her attention back. She noticed a glass of water.

"Thanks," Pinkie said.

"Yeah, when night rolls around, it's a lot worse," the bartender replied. "Clean up crew has a lot of work to do."

He began attending to other ponies before Pinkie could ask anything further.

She brought the glass in front of her, and looked down at it, swirling the ice. It seemed to be plain old water. She took a sip, and sure enough, it was.

She surveyed the room once more, when something snagged all of her attention. Her eyes rested on a pony sitting on the floor near the far corner of the room outside the crowd, his expression grim and blank as if he was staring at nothing.

Pinkie felt compelled to follow the calling.

"Hey," Pinkie said, causing his ears to flick, "are you okay?"

He seemed to search her eyes and expression for a few moments, giving Pinkie a glimpse into the hurt behind them before his eyes scanned the room instead, as if looking for something else.

Pinkie watched with curled up brows. "What's your name?" She tried, with a concerned smile.

"Why are you here?"

"Because you look like you're having a not so fun time."

"How'd you guess?"

"Well, I can see it. Especially with that frown."

"What do you want?"

"To turn that frown upside down," Pinkie informed, standing straight, pointing to her muzzle while giving a heartfelt smile.

The stallion simply stared blankly into the party.

"Do you have any friends or family?" For all she knew, his 'friends' could've helped get him into this position.

The stallion in response turned the bottle in his hoof beside him, faintly seeing his reflection on its dull surface while his eyes seemed to be reliving memories…

Pinkie glanced to his flank, noticing it bare of any mark. "Do you have any hobbies?"

"Yes, he does," a voice answered. "Being here."

Pinkie saw Dilate who sauntered toward her then stopped beside her with furrowed brows.

Pinkie looked up at him, her visage stricken with concern. "Is there anything we can do?"

"We could give him to Doctor Glean," he casually suggested, swirling his drink while looking into it. "But I'm not inclined to do that."

Pinkie raised a brow but her attention
was pulled back to the stallion, noticing he was still staring at the bottle. "Deep inside you don't you feel like there's more to life than this?"

The stallion seemed to not be paying attention, his eyes still fixated on the bottle.

"It's okay to have a bit of the sweet stuff from time to time," she continued, "some of it. But having so much of it that you destroy yourself and slide down a downward spiral isn't good– or fun, especially later on."

"Wouldn't that make you a hypocrite?"

Pinkie was taken aback by the comment as she whipped her head over and up at Dilate.

"You are the heart of the party and quite the party animal. But you also have quite the sweet tooth. You let and encourage others to indulge in them."

"Indulge?!" Pinkie parroted, the word offending her and sour on the tongue. She glared. "You're exploiting these ponies' pain!" She said, gritting her teeth.

A glare flashed over his features, then returned to his sly smile. "I'm offering them a fun time with smiles and a place to let loose. They have the choice. I'm not forcing them," he said, holding his left hand up as if he was free of blame or guilt. "After all, you didn't take the hospitable drink I offered earlier. Besides, tomorrow's not a guarantee. Might as well enjoy the party while you can until it's over," he said, drinking from his wineglass.

"Parties are meant to be a gathering for ponies to celebrate life and have a good time," Pinkie growled, pointing an accusatory hoof. "To maybe forget about hardships and pain for a bit–"

"Life is pain," He corrected, his tone rising. "And isn't that what I'm offering? You and I do the same thing. You sell sugary sweets. I sell drinks."

"It's not the same thing," Pinkie denied. "Your drinks are worse. You even have one!" She pointed to the glass in his right hand.

Dilate's smile turned almost sinister, like a withering grin as he chuckled and leaned forward speaking in a hush. "Didn't you hear me? You consume all the sweets your gluttonous little heart desires. We both have vices. But one of us may need it more than the other."

Pinkie's confusion morphed into sadness upon gazing at his visage, seeing the dark cracks, but now, she could see a liquid leaking forth, finally revealing what was obscured on the other side.

She'd recognized that smile. The deep pain, misery, despair, reaffirmed beyond the dull red eyes. She should've known better, listened to her gut, acted on her suspicion. But his grin was laced in something else…

Pinkie sagged as her head lowered. She took a sidelong glance at the stallion, noticing him staring intently at her. Pinkie understood what it was like to be trapped in a dark pit, clouded by mental anguish, blinded by misery, unable to see the light. "I'm not perfect," Pinkie confessed. "I can't say I know exactly how you feel, but I've been in a deep dark pit too. And I don't want you there." A thought crossed Pinkie's mind, reminding her of something Twilight would say. "You still have so much potential. You can still come out of this," Pinkie said, extending her hoof forward.

The stallion looked down at her hoof, then glanced at her hopeful sincere smile. His eyes then flicked to Dilate who judged with furrowed brows. They moved back and forth between them. Endless moments stretched as the air thickened. He leaned away. "J–just leave me alone."

"Let him pursue his happiness," Dilate said.

Pinkie lowered her head. "You don't want to be happy... You want a meaning to sustain you through pain, and tragedy, and to give you a reason to get out of bed. To move forward."

Turning, she started at a steady gait, the chaotic party ambiance around her blurring while her cerulean eyes rested on the floor.

Outside, she walked across the bridge, arriving at her hot air balloon, and untied the knot, allowing the balloon to fly freely.

The balloon descended below the clouds to a steady altitude, floating over the vast pine forests, sparse teardrops falling from it almost like a lone raincloud.

---

Supine in bed staring at the darkness concealing the high ceiling, the deafening silence coaxed Pinkie's thoughts to flow like rapids.

She imagined she was going to be laying there for a while, the bed becoming her tomb, but to her, it was inconsequential.

It felt as though she was wobbling, balancing on a cliffside she's already balanced on before, on the verge of falling into a pit of despair.

She'd been at rock bottom, seeing just how deep and practically bottomless it could go, knowing it could end up deeper becoming a practically endless fall in space, but in the dark, she found the light. But apparently, it wasn't good enough. Or maybe even real...

Maybe she was just stupid, she wasn't the 'brightest' after all, or that's at least what she thought– unable to articulate what she felt deep in her soul, to help, convince, or show others in need that there was more to life. Pinkie's mettle had endured great tribulations, allowing her to hone her own resilience.

But the splinter of doubt in her moral fiber put everything into question.

She had lived with moments of absolute sorrow, with everything becoming heavy, deflated, colorless. The only thing underlying the numbness and able to surface being pain.

The words 'life is pain' echoed in her head, stroking her anguish.

Hanging by the edge now, feeling the sad thoughts spurring madness, the possibility of derealization underlying it, she held on, her grip slipping.

The tranquility of falling asleep would be a her only escape, but despite the lengthening night, it wasn't within reach.

"Feeling the robes of void," she jingled, her pitch faulty. "Feeling the pain of an open wound I'm trying, to soothe. All I wanted was a smile that was true. To fulfill my purpose, what I was born to do. But I'm unable to deal with the fact… I couldn't help you," she finished in a monotone cadence.

She rolled over, laying in a fetal position.

Piercing through the darkness, a thin light shone across the room, staying that way for a few moments before extending across and over her bed, revealing a shadow stretching across the floor. Pinkie could hear a few hoofsteps.

A weight sat at the end of the bed. Willing herself to look down, her eyes met Applejack's emerald ones.

"You okay, hun?"

Pinkie sighed. "You were right."

"What happened?"

"I went to the place, and it seemed like fun. I met the owner, who turned out to be a goat-monkey, or something, and he seemed nice– until he wasn't. But after hanging out for a bit, I noticed something was wrong, the party just wasn't right. It felt hollow and rotten, everypony was drinking and it was sort of crazy. I saw a pony sitting in the corner who looked sad and miserable. I tried to help him but…"

"You can take a pony to water but can't force them to drink. At least you tried," Applejack comforted.

"He did seem to want it! I think," Pinkie added, her tone flimsy. "But that monster, Diehate, or Dielate, or whatever his name was, was convincing him not to! He's deceiving ponies into going there and trapping them with fake fun, offering them those nasty drinks!" Pinkie exclaimed, tossing her forelegs. "But why?" She mumbled.

"Pinkie–"

"I know, for the bits…"

"He could be telling the truth, or what he believes is the truth, believin' what he's doin' is right, justifyin' the bits. Hopefully deep down, he's lyin' to himself and he knows it."

Pinkie was unsure. She didn't know him, but he appeared as if he was too far gone, uncaring, corrupted somehow, whether by the drink, greed... the sadness.

Pinkie remained quiet, sinking in her failure, plagued by a deep corrosive doubt.

"What're ya thinkin'?" Applejack asked. "Be honest," she chided playfully, nudging her with a foreleg.

Pinkie sat in silence. The impossibility of putting what she was feeling into words overwhelmed her.

Applejack slid off the bed and began toward the light of the doorway. Stopping, she looked over her flank. "Come on. Let's go for a walk," she said gently, motioning her head toward the door.

Despite the lead blanket draped over her being, and the chaotic consuming feelings, something deep within her, shining invisibly from her unconscious, connected to even her instinct, motivated and compelled her to move.

She could feel the weight in her limbs and body as she attempted to move. The weight grew as she heaved herself out of bed with all her will, her hooves seeming to drag across the floor as her head hung low.

They entered the quiet night, the cold air gently holding them as they sauntered through sleeping Ponyville, the only sound being their hoofsteps on the dirt path, the army of crickets and cicadas chirping, and the croaking of distant frogs.

Pinkie's eyes stared at the dirt, seeing only Applejack's tail and hooves ahead of her which she absently followed. The sound of a gentle river filled her ears as she walked over a bridge, then the dirt changed into grass, but she didn't notice, she was too lost in her mind, the chaos apparent, so much so, she didn't even want to enter it, even if she might attempt to quell it. She just let it be, simply observing the anguish.

After a bit, she underwent slight strain, her task at walking becoming a bit more difficult, the acclivity of the terrain along with the weight she felt working together, but it wasn't enough to pull her out of her own inclination and stupor.

At the top of the hill, Applejack stopped and sat down in front of a tree, just shy of the roots crawling through the dirt behind her. Pinkie simply stood in front of her with her head still low, waiting for her to speak. Applejack with a sincere smile patted beside her with a hoof. Pinkie obliged, sitting beside her, but her eyes still never left the ground.

"Sometimes," Applejack began, "I like to come out here after a long day on the farm and relax. Or even after a hard day. Take in the simple things in life and what most of us overlook. It sort of reminds me of my years as a young filly."

The symphony of the night filled the lengthening silence between them, the distant gentle river coalescing with it.

Until Applejack gently spoke. "What's on your mind, sugarcube?"

Pinkie thought about denying her feelings or simply letting it inundate her, but she glanced at Applejack's emerald eyes, seeing a caring true friend.

Pinkie opened her mouth and took a breath, "Ijustdon'tknowifmypartiesareactuallygoodorifthey'rereallyreallybadandleadingponiesdownabaddarkterriblepathlikeescapinglifeorsomethingbutI'dliketothinkthey'regoodbutIjustdon'tknow."

"Whoa there, slow down, sugarcube," Applejack replied.

Pinkie sighed. "I just– wonder if my parties are like that one. Or if I've led anypony down a bad path, chasing happy feelings, partying all day and night long, all the while destroying themselves…"

"Do ya have rigged party games and take ponies' money every chance ya get?"

"No, but–"

"Do ya try to keep ponies miserable for profit?"

Pinkie sighed. "No."

"It's good to feel doubt every now and then," Applejack said gently, "but I can assure you that your heart is in the right place. The fact that you're concerned proves it. Parties are gatherings meant to celebrate events, or deeds, and maybe let loose a little bit. Have a bit of fun. Not as an excuse to shun responsibility or get–get," Applejack reiterated, searching for the right word.

"Wasted?"

Applejack sighed. "Yeah."

"But what if ponies have so much fun they don't want it to end? And what if they only want to party?"

"Some ponies don't want to grow up, or even go back out into the world. They try to force being happy, or chase it, but happiness doesn't last forever. Ya need something to give ya strength, that you believe in with all your heart when life gets tough…" Applejack seemed to be absorbed in her own thoughts, and after a few moments reached up with a hoof and readjusted her stetson. "Some of the happiest moments of my life came naturally; times where even if it wasn't easy, it felt like everything was lined up, and was right," she said in reminiscence.

A piece of heaven is being joyfully lost in moments but lucid– enraptured especially through play as the clicking clock is blurred to a silence and time disappears as you're in complete enjoyment or bliss; and even if it was relatively ephemeral, paradoxically, it did but also didn't feel that way, having a lasting residual effect. It felt almost as if everything was aligned, good, and going to be okay. Those magical moments were one of the core things Pinkie lived for, that gave her fulfillment, and she had them often with her friends.

"Your parties do have integrity. Practically everypony after your parties is in high spirits. Everpony smiles more. Your positivity is infectious. You show ponies that there's things to smile about, and that things can and do get better. In the darkest of times, you give them hope."

Pinkie's gaze rested on the meadow field down the hill, fireflies swirling and dancing everywhere freely, their silent undulating lights shining despite the darkness.

An undertow of emotion grew, eliciting potent echoes of what she felt long ago, that there was something profound and meaningful woven into existence and the mysterious nature of reality, that it all had purpose.

"You're a living example of that. You know how to make me laugh, cheer me up, and make me happy, Pinkie. Especially after a rough day. You mean a lot to me and always will."

Pinkie's eyes went glassy as they welled up, her vision blurring. She squeezed her eyes shut and lunged at Applejack, wrapping her forelegs around her. "You do too," she uttered, hot tears trickling down her cheeks.

Applejack returned the embrace, resting her forelegs over Pinkie's back, leaning her head into her.

Her breaths were uneasy as the emotion cascaded from her, giving a loving squeeze as she pressed her cheek into Applejack's neck, holding her like she was the only thing in the world.

Warmth emanated from her chest, a powerful sense of gratefulness, happiness, and most of all, love coursing through her, that despite the pain, and everything tragic, she was able to experience moments of joy, that she had a strong friend like Applejack who loved her despite her issues and she loved back deeply with all her heart.

"I'm glad that mane of yours is still puffy."

Pinkie's uneasy breathing turned into a fit of laughter. "My eyes are too."

She pulled back and sniffled, using a foreleg to wipe her tear stained cheek, a smile now dawned on her face. "Can I ask one last thing?"

"That's what I'm here for."

"Do you think I have a sugar problem? Be honest," Pinkie playfully chided while nudging her with an elbow. "And don't sugar coat it," she said, winking.

Applejack chuckled. "Honestly, in my opinion, I think ya could probably cut back a little bit, but I know ya like the stuff ya bake, and it's not like ya need it or anythin'. Ya look fine and seem healthy, so I think you're alright. And you're fairly responsible. But moderation is key."

"Yeah, that's sort of what I thought. But some of the stuff I bake is de-licious."

"Sometimes I wonder if your stomach is a bottomless pit," she noted.

"Nope. No bottomless pit here."

Applejack had a way with words that Pinkie envied in a way. Most likely because they were honest or truthful to the best of her ability– not that she herself was necessarily deceitful– but Applejack spoke with integrity, her words never empty, utilizing her accrued distilled wisdom. Even when it hurt, it usually came from a place of love.

She also admired Applejack's strength, especially in tough situations. Pinkie sometimes wished she had those attributes, but she supposed it just wasn't who she was. But it didn't mean she couldn't try to emulate them or aspire to be better– be the best version of herself...

"I wish you came with me so you could've given them a piece of your mind."

"I don't think I could've done much. Some ponies can't be helped, and need a rude awakenin', Ya can tell them things all day long, but in order to learn, they have to get a burn."

Despite agreeing with the latter statement sorrowfully, Pinkie still contemplated going back with her mettle now reinforced, willing to try again even if it may be in vain. She didn't like to see ponies fall or hit the bottom. Even if it may be a lost cause, something told her it wasn't, she still had hope. After all, she wasn't one to miss a party, and she never has.

Within the comfortable silence, wind brushed the leaves above, making the branches flow with the breeze. The thoughts submerged, her attention captivated, watching the branches cease motion with the wind before looking over at Applejack. She followed her emerald eyes to the field in front of them, letting her own wander the valley with a smile.

Author's Note:

Remember when I said I was working on this one and it'd be done soon? Yeah, me too. What a ginormous delay. Life, and the usual writer issues erected a wall. Probably illusionary. I just struggled to get into this one. Part of it was tackling something extremely tough and complicated like addiction. Part of it was also writing Dilate as a character as I was trying to find something I liked. Part of it was also my perfectionism, as I didn't want this story to feel too samey compared with the others, which it still kind of is to some extent. And another part of it is procrastination. All in all, it's a lot of parts that equal no written words. Which may have been for the best. But I decided to finally let it go and post it.

Anyway, enough excuses and remember, hedonism can lead to hell, and alcohol is especially sneaky, so be careful. Though, some would say it's a better hell than the one they're already in.

If you have any criticisms (especially relating to characters) or want to see this story continue, let me know! Even though I definitely didn't meet my goals I set. I hope you have a nice day or night, and drink responsibly!