Midnight Review: Mistake · 6:13am Feb 8th, 2017
A Midnight Review
Hello from your neighborhood MidnightChaos, reviewing another HiE story for shits and giggles, as well the benefit of the author if I can manage it. There will be jokes, possibly memes, and some spelling and grammar corrections. Opinions and wording may be seen as offensive but I will try to tone down the level of bitter asshole I usually put into things.
Mistake by The Lunar Toaster
Well, well, well. It seems the author realized what he was doing here, didn’t he? The truth will set you free, sometimes at least. In this case we have a fic tagged with Anon, Gore, and just about every tag that leads me to conclude that I should have the bandages ready for use, asap.
I didn't mean to hurt anyone. My anger is a curse that boils within.
I hurt on the inside. I wish I could just, run away forever. Nobody wants to be my friend, or even look at me. What am I going to do…
The story is continuing, but I'm trying to make it better.
...You didn’t mean to, but we have the gore tags. Perhaps a murder most foul? Who did you kill, Monsieur Anon? Was it… PINKIE PIE!? WERE HER CUPCAKES NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU? So, yeah. We have anger stew, which is most agreeable with 99% of stomachs.
So do I, buddy, so do I. Might just be a case of gas, but I digress. This is the part where I say, “Run, Forest, Run!” except you probably lay down like Sadness from Inside Out. I hope you at least read the manuals. Same, Same. No friends either, naw, I’m kidding, I have plenty of friends. Like that rock outside my window- wait, where’d he go. NOOOOOOO.
I really hope it isn’t continuing, for your sake. That ratio of likes and dislikes, hoo wee.
No. No it is not. Seriously, look at it!
Dare I say, downvote away. :bemusedaj:
Whew lad, glad to hear that. Might yet be able to recover from this.
Downvotes ahoy, off the starboard bow. Two chapters ahead!
I sit in a dark corner in the back of my house, listening to the sound of my ears and the occasional clip-clopping of ponies outside my door. I have my legs pressed up against my chest, with my arms wrapping around them. Tears, long since dried, I sit, waiting, for a glimmer of hope, that maybe, just maybe, it'll be OK. I look towards my kitchen, eyeing the knives, then burying my head into my knees. My eyes return to it's familiar damp feeling, as I sob silently…
I sit there, contemplating my sheer edge. Shiver, shiver, sh-EDGE. I actually think this could out do an exacto knife with its edge. However, at least the description is moderately okay for the time being. *sob sob* ME SO LONELYYYYYYYYY. WRRRRRY. I actually think few people could top this. And holy fucking gods, I think you have, as Leone says, “Comma Coronary”. I, eye, the, knives, wonder, if, it's, worth, cutting, my, wrists, to, escape.
Sobby sobby sobby. Man up, you little twit. Gods.
"I never meant to hurt anyone. No one at all," my sobs intensify as more and more tears pour out of my eyes. The images of the last few days jump back at me. This is what happened…
Also, where did this even come from? Like, this reads like the shitty prologue to a 90s sitcom romance. “I ALWAYS loved you, Jeffery!” Or, hell, it even reads like the end of Titanic where the dumbass known as Rose is too selfish to share her door and let’s Jack drown. He’s not jumping any more candlesticks, I can tell you that.
Again, man up. Are you a person, or a water fountain? I swear you could LITERALLY cry me a damn river, sweet fuck. Careful not to flood the house at least. Wait, the images are jumping back at you? Like, 3D!?
Dun, dun, duhhhhhhhhh!~~~~ ~_~
I sit in Sugarcube corner, happily eating some cake Pinkie had so delightfully served to me, her squeaky happy-go-lucky voice being music to my ears. I chew happily on the last bite, being sure to leave some bits on the table as a tip. I stand up, and head out the door, a nice wide smile on my face. Little did I know, it just might be the last smile to elicit from my face again.
Munch, munch, much. Das sum gud cake u got roiht der. Also, I’m not sure if Squeaker Pie much feels the same way. You’re voice probably sounds like a cat being dragged down a cheese grater.
You get quite a bit of joy from sweets, don’t you? How sweet! *dry laughter* Anyways, I think the best part here is that you actually left a tip, I’m fairly certain Pinkie throws food around like grass, or in some cases actual grass, I mean hay. She will now be able to afford a bit more ingredients at least.
This is. The. WORST. POSSIBLE. THING! *faints* To quote the author, “There’s a katana here, be wary of the edge for it will cut you.” Cut me it did, like a chainsaw and some razor blades.
`I tread down the dirt road, and up at to my cottage. I see my door open, and I get a slight twinge of anger, and fear. I am known for having a really short fuse, mind you. I open my door slightly with a long, drawn out creak. I hear a small gasp, and my anger kindles into something more powerful. I swear to god, if Twilight is in here again, I will punch her in the muzzle so hard. My thoughts are now clouded by hate.
Why the apostrophe? Anyways, your house seems eerily close to town but it’s portrayed like it’s a long distance away. Literally, “So close, yet, so far away.” Nice at. REALLY nice at. On a side note, when is the door opening? You have a horizontal rule after this when it seems like a shift change back to the before the last paragraph.
What’s more powerful than anger? I’ll tell you what! YOU CAN TAKE HIS PRIVACY, BUT YOU CAN’T TAKE HIS RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGEEEEEEE! And, if you’re breaking into a house, why even make any noise. Is she trying to get caught?
...Nice foreshadowing in them italics. Really nice, I almost wonder if you’re going to do just that? Just, wham! Like a semi truck going fifty just smacked you across the face with its side mirror.
My thoughts are now clouded by questions.
More streams of tears fall down my face. I shiver slightly, just remembering what ensued was too much. I shakily get up and walk over to my door. I more hobble over there, from the several bruises I got from only hours earlier. I'm grateful that I didn't get anything broken, but... Almost everybody in Ponyville hates me now, for what I did... I open up the door, rays of light stream into my cottage. I take a step outside, and look around, holding the right side of my ribs. A few ponies who were near by glare at me, with the intensity of the sun itself. I don't even wipe the tears off of my face, before I'm already hobbling down toward Twilight's place. I've said sorry many, many times before. None of them seemed as pitiful as this one. I gulp down my pride, as I see Twilight's castle in the distance. Another tear rolls down my face, as I reach the golden staircase, and sit on it. More tears, and more pitiful sobs.
You sob more than a teenage girl on Diazepam. And, might I just inquire how you shiver instead of shake? Ah well, you start shaking here so that’s cool. So, why are you bruised? As far as I can tell, nothing has happened in all these scenes shifts. It’s like leaping from cliff to cliff as they begin to fall apart. AVALANCHEEEEEEEEEE!
...You fucking punched her, didn’t you? I swear you had to have done so after that shit. And, whoo boy are you playing that feeling of pain right here. ...Man, that’s a fucking glare. I didn’t know pony eyes reflected sunlight that intensely. It;s like a godsdamned magnifying glass, are you going to burst into flame?
Hobbiting, I’m hobbiting, I’m hobbitting… Anyways, real smart after what I’ve so far inferred. IS IT TOO LATE TO SAY SORRY? SO MANY TIMES BEFOREEEEEEEE. And, I’m pretty sure they are at LEAST as pitiful with how you’re acting. How long has it even been since you did whatever you did? Four score and holy fuck it’s been twelve years? At least, that's what it feels like in context, seeing as you’ve mentioned that it was several hours before even though you’ve apologized a lot.
Also, the literal name of this chapter is “The Sadness”, which is how I feel about this story.
I walk into my house, anger and adrenaline coursing through my veins. I can't think right, everything is foggy, and red. I rush into my livingroom to see Twilight, like a deer caught in the headlights, looking at me. She is obviously afraid, and she should be. I stomp over to her and grab her horn. I draw my fist back, and she looks at me terrified, and stunned.
Wait, when? Talk about an abrupt scene change. I feel like I was just thrown out of a motor vehicle on the Nascar raceway, and apparently you do as well from the amount of adrenaline you are feeling. Which is then clouding your vision like you just walked into some mist made of blud.
And then you fucking see Twilight and seem like some chucklefuck with a motherfucking shotgun. Deer caught in the headlights, damn straight. You could make this even worse by having her piss herself. I feel like a sadist and I’m not even the author!
...Jesus fucking christ, why did you go for the horn? “Bitch let grab them magic spazzle on your forehead while I kick ya ass!” Stomping to seem more intimidating, noice. I AM A FUCKING TYRANNOSAUR. That’s what you seem to be doing.
"I TOLD YOU!" One punch in the muzzle, a shrill scream following, "NOT TO GO," another punch in the muzzle, another scream, and a sob, "INTO MY HOUSE!" One final punch, and I let go of her horn. I shake my head, as if waking up from a trance, and look at my painful knuckles. They are covered in blood. I look at Twilight who has tears streaming down her face, sobbing quietly. I reach out towards her, myself shocked at my actions, she jumps, and runs out the door.
AND I WAS FUCKING RIGHT! Talk about malicious, you just tore into her like a godsdamned rage reviewer into a Displaced fic!
Not to mention how fucking brutally punctuated this scene is. YOU. FUCKING. MUST. PUNCH. PURPLE. SMART. And she’s bleeding? Fucking christ. This is so jarringly brutal.
You need to sort out your priorities, mister. Checking yourself and not the pony you just punched the fuck out of? Hot damn. Covered in blud for emphasis.
...I don’t even, just wew.
I wrap my arms and legs around my chest, and sob quietly for god knows how long. The only noise I hear is the angry grunts of nearby ponies, and my own crying. I hear the castle doors open behind me, then close after what sounded like a painful gasp. More memories…
When did you sit- oh wait, another scene shift. Which is followed by you being a teenage girl, and sobbing excessively. And, which room are you in that you can hear the ponies grumbling? On a side note, castle doors? When did you get into the tree castle? Why are you IN the tree castle? Once again, if you’re in the tree castle how can you hear people outside!?
Painful gasp and memories… Uh oh….
"Oh my god! What happened!" A voice booms out from outside. I look down at my hands, one spattered in blood, and one... Not spattered in blood.
A muffled voice replies, "A-Ahnern perched me een da mrrzleee!" Another sob.
...So, would ponies even use the term god? I mean, sure they’d probably have the word or something similar, but likely not in the same context. And, since when do voices boom like that? And, why the scene jumps? Do they really have to happen so often?
...One covered IN blood, one not. I really like how this had to be specified, like really like. IT’s very much convenient to the image i have in my head. Like adding that your character is wearing a fucking vomit baby barf green T-shirt.
...His actual NAME is Anon? Like, that’s his name? Wow. This fic is giving me more and more reasons to not bother reading Anon except I’m actually getting sick pleasure out of this. And, how can Twilight even speak to this extent when you punched her that fucking much?
I look back with tear stricken eyes, to see Twilight glaring at me intensely from her castle doors, a prominent cast is on her muzzle. Neither of us exchange words, as I already get the message. I stand up, and hobble away from the castle. I trip and fall to the ground, looking back, a random stallion had tripped me. I look down, I deserve every bit of this punishment. I stand up slowly, hobbling away from the castle. I look back, to see Twilight, Rarity, and Applejack walking in my general direction. I limp slightly faster, in fear that they might beat me up. I get up to my house.
...On another note, when did you even get inside the castle? Did you teleport there or something? In fact, I have to question why you’re in the castle after abusing the fuck out of pony who owns it. That’s like making an extremely racist black joke and heading over to the ghetto while shouting it at the top of your lungs. “YOU KNOW WHAT THEY CALL A NIGGA IN A PILE O’ HAY?” “A PIECE OF SHIT!”
So, by prominent cast, is this like a fucking Pinocchio cast? Every time you tell a lie, it gets more in your face! Much like this fic. Anyways, you probably should have gotten the message before even going there, all things considered.
On another note, weren’t you IN the castle? No, seriously. I’m fairly certain you were inside, not outside, but… Yeah, no I can’t let that go. Where the fuck were you? Space?
But, damn straight. Kick his ass stallion! But, here we go. Anon’s impending DOOM. Yes, all caps. And, as I’m fairly certain you would’ve have to pass Twilight and as I have to no clue why the stallion didn’t sit on you… Why weren’t you grabbed?
YOU LIMP FASTER, BECAUSE YOU, THE GUY WHO PUNCHED THE FUCK OUT OF PURPLE SMART UNTIL HER MUZZLE WAS BLEEDING DON’T WANT TO GET BEAT UP? My fucking gods, you’re both a coward and a dick!
I like how this pacing goes from good, to horrifyingly fast in all of five seconds.
Screams erupt from outside, and what seemed like a stampede coming inside, I dash out the back door.
...I’m fairly certain you’re dead, Anon. Kill yourself and just be done with it. Also, why are ponies, who are entirely friendship, rainbows, and super happy fun times, which makes them sound like hippies actually, coming after you like this?
I shake my head, and immediately regret it as twinges of red hot pain bolt of my spine. I massage my neck with my good hand, and enter the musky smelling house. I shut my door gingerly, and get into the bathroom. Pills, pills, pills galore, each one for each issue. Ones for anger, ones for depression, ones for pain. I lower my head, contemplating the easy solution to a hard problem. I take out 3 pills, one for each issue. I walk into my kitchen and grab some hard cider. I plop the pills into my mouth, and take a swig of the alcohol. Walking back, I wipe off the remaining tears, and slip back into the corner of shame.
...Yeah, you got your ass kicked from here to high heaven. And, have you been masturbating or something while you’ve been injured? Why does your house smell like that? Is it because it’s the scent of a real man, aka not you?
Take the fucking pills and get your sorry ass out of here, just fucking end it Anon. Everything you’re experiencing is your own damn fault but here you are treating it like you’re the victim. That’s like a rapist going, “But her genitals felt like they were on fire!” *followed by sobbing*
...Who the fuck prescribed you these, by the way. Fuck, Anon, man the hell up for fuck’s sake. And, taking cider with pills probably isn’t the best of ideas considering the majority of medications suggest against- why am I arguing? Do it, just do it so your evil arse is dead.
And he’s done it, now we wait for his death. *crickets* “The Corner” of Shame sounds like something from preschool or Despicable Me. GET IN THE BOX AGNIS.
"GET HIM!" A female voice shouted, as I dashed away from the town. Only a few strides later, I am tackled by a stallion, a fierce rage in his eyes. I am pelted, beaten... Broken... I sit in a mangled heap, sprain in my shoulder, dislocated rib, and bleeding fiercely from all parts of my body…
GET HIM. KICK HIS ARSE. *a less, and disappointedly so, female voice cries out* No wonder you get caught that quick, Anon, horses are fucking fast. On a side note, which way were you facing so that you could see the horse, were you running backwards?
And, another thing, how can you tell what your injuries are as this reads both like present and past tense here? And, all things considered I doubt you got help all that quick. And bleeding from ALL parts of your body? Shouldn’t you be dead if you’re bleeding that much?
*literal flood of blood* I’m fine. *blood becomes a large lake* No, I feel perfectly fine. *ocean of blood* I SAID I’M FUCKING FINE DAMN IT. *drowns in own blood* Your anus was bleeding, Anon. Your anus. Was bleeding.
I shiver, remembering the scene. Then, the feelings of sadness, pain, and anger wash away. Leaving me sitting in the corner of the room, thinking about life. Will I be able to redeem myself? I will never know…
Yeah, definite chills going down your spine, you sadistic masochist. Also, why do those feelings just wash away like that? Twilight’s didn’t. “MY NAME IS INIGO MONTOYA, YOU KILLED MY FATHER, PREPARE TO DIE.” *crickets* ‘Actually, I changed my mind, we good.”
Man, talk about the basis for a fucking existential crisis. But, yeah, we gotta know.
Mr Toast, how many licks does it take to get to the center of an Anon in Equestria fic?
Author's Note:
So, I felt depressed and I expressed it into words. How'd I do?
Ergh. Another chapter will be coming, just so you know.
I also realize that I don't exactly make the longest of chapters, but... I like to push out one short chapter first, then work on one for a week, maybe? Then publish it.
Alright, now, one more thing before I go and work on Love's Hunt. Should he be able to redeem himself? Or will he forever be lost in the depression of yesterday.
Like Icarus himself, the author known as Toast has brought us great potential for an Anon trollfic, inspired by depression, and edgier than Shadow the Hedgehog plowing Ebola-chan the pony.
...Yeah, we’ll ignore that chapter as this ending is suitable.
Lost, please. I wanna see an Anon die. And, here you all go, one healthily toasted fic.
