You suggested Pinkie should draw ‘HELP US’ in the sand in great big letters.
“That’s a great idea!” she said as she sped out of sight.
You slumped onto your side, wondering why you even bothered to get up this morning. Out the corner of your eye, you saw the artefact. Hoping to keep it to yourself, you slowly crawled towards the artefact. With the last ounce of your strength, you clung onto it. You felt warm as the light around shone to ridiculously bright levels.
You wake up in an art gallery somewhere. It reminded you of that art theft you did back in your college years. You cautiously traversed the suspicious and almost ethereal white corridor of the gallery. You saw a painting of a griffin’s skull in a cupcake holder to your left.
“Don’t you know how to take ‘get lost’ for an answer?” you heard a voice echo “Dash doesn’t need to hang with a dweeb like you now that I’m around.”
You felt something vibrate in your bag, which you were surprised to find still on your person. You opened the bag and found a device displaying a message. It said ‘aren’t you getting tired of the g̡̹̣͆ͥ͗́͜r͉̗̱̘ͦ̾̔̓̾̓͡i͈̖̦͈͛ͮ̿͆̚͢͡͠n̴͙̯̥̗̟̼͍͎͋͛ͤ̇͋ͦ̍ḍ̴̛̲̹̙͚̘̜͕͛̈̄̓ͦͣ͗͢?̘͖̝̤̙̖͓̬̾̏̊̏̈̏ͯ’. To say it was cryptic would have been an understatement. You continued to walk down the corridor and saw, to your right, a painting of a pegasus being flayed alive. Screams echoed throughout the corridor followed by another vibration from the device. The new message read ‘̧̥̘̥͔̞͖͇̹͓̜̝̣̱̺̳̲̍ͭ̔͛ͣ͛͐̈́̾ͯ̈̅͐̏̓̄̂͟D̙̻̟͕̱͔̥͚̦̹̫͕̈́̐̈́̾̀̚o̵̵̳͎͈̯̣̖̪̫͇̺̩͚̺̣̘̝̬͓̎ͮ̃͂͑̉̔̎̓̀̕͟ǹͥ͗ͦͥ͛̿ͮͤ͂ͬ̔́҉̗̰̺̙̺̜̳͉͖̺͓͝’̵̖̤̱̬̱̜̲̜̝͙̙͓͖̘̿̋̾͐̽ͤ̀͟͝͠t͆̑̆ͥͧ͛ͮ̅̒͌̉͢͏̬̠̬̞ ̮͙̹͓̪̌ͭ̏̿͒ͦͦ̈́͐̇ͮͣͩ̍̏͜͝y͐͗̏̉̋͘͟͏̱͈̝̜̺̼ͅȍ̪̥͔̱̤̰̫͙̮͔̰͓͈͗̋ͤ̋ͣ̔̏ͧ͐̈͗̆̽́ͅuͣ̈̍ͣ̄̓͊ͪ͌̾̒̄̉́ͨ҉͍̮̼̲̳̳͕͈͢͢͡ ͦͨ͋͋̊̔̆ͭ҉̘̝̹͔̮͉̘̠͍̱͉̘̀͢͠f̵̭͉̜̙͖̖̱̱̱͔̖͗ͦͮ̾ͦͫͤ̍̔̑͑ͯͧ̂̅̉̆͞ȩ̵͙̰̺̗̘̝͖͕͍͋͂͗̏͐̑̽͒̋͛͆̎͛ͣ̉̃͆̌ͫe̸̵̶̡̥̞̠̣̱̝̬̞̜̙͖̫͙̟͖̼͂̓̈́ͥ͌̍̇ͭ͟l̢̤̰̹̹̘̥̮̪͉̖̱ͭ̏̅́͆̑ͯ͌͑͐ͦ͆̒͛̽̐̒́ ̶̃̉̔ͨ͝҉͜͏͎̟̹͙̣̻l̛̦͈͙͎̳ͯ̈́̂ͧ̈́̉̋͌̓ͨ̚͜i͐̂ͬ̈́ͭͦ̌̒͒͑̃̄҉͏̙̟̭̟͕̣̝̙̱͎̘̖k̸̭̳͇̤̪̳̀ͧͧ̎͐ͮ̇͑̐̎ͪ̊͆ͯ̐͛̚͘è̢̏ͧ́̍̉̉ͥͫ́̅̅ͭͯͬͣͧ́͘҉̗̣͍̣͝ ̢̈͊̈́̓ͨͫ̓͏̞̻̺͔̟̖̘̭̩y̴̸̴̖͍̗̦̲̟̻̘̥̗͕͕̜̟̜͖̗͉̐̄̉̒̂̀ơ̝̖͓͈̟̯̮͍̘̱̺̣͈̿̅̾̽ͬ̽͌̊ͬͦ̅̑̽̚ͅu̿ͭͯ͢͜҉̸͉̦̳͎̙̻̠̹͔̝̱̖͢ͅͅ’̵̘̙̟̻̖̭̞͉͍͑ͬͣ̓̍̅̔͐̾̂̂͞͞ͅr͆ͪ̅͛̆͂ͦͥ͌̂̇ͫ҉̞͎͈̠̯̼́ͅĕ̵̖̯͉̥͎̯̗̲̼̭͒̍̒̎ͮ̽͜͢ ̴̧̹̫͚͈̩̲̝͇̮̈̄̎̐ͅḋ̸̸̩̺̻̙̪̫͕̬͎̠͔̼̼̫̥̩̜̐ͭͣͨ̍͆̇͑̑͛̀͠o͓͖͍̩͉̣̰̲̰͙̞̞̱̹̹͕̻̔̂̇͛́͘͝i̢̡̩̞̗̜̬̬̯̹͖͇̬̺̬̺̯̻̤̦ͪ͊ͭ͛̈́͐̏̇̌̉ͤͫ̐̾̀͌͒n̵̸̢͉̟̰̳̫̣̱̪̥͕̝̳̬̞̼͈̦͊ͭ̅ͣ̆̊̑̍͒̌͂̏ͨͩ͌̾ͥ͌̚͞ͅͅģ̸̗̺͔̭̩̺͚̥̝̭̳̝̘̹͉̀̇̑ͨͨ̀̽ͤ͌̈ͩ̏̀̚̚͡ ͚̬̭̤͈͔͕̫̮̣̳̱̪̳̫̋ͫ̇ͫͭ̋ͬͦ̉ͬ̌̍̈ͨͫ̅ͤ̐̀̀t̴̵̂͑́̈ͣͩ̆͐̅́̍̕͏͙̻̫̘͓͙̞͔̰͖͓̮̣̯͚͇̟̫h̛͔̹̘̱͍͕̩̩̟̣ͫ̽̄ͪ͗ͥͪ̽̈́̏̐͌͗͊͊͗͘͟͡ͅͅe̴̛̹̥̫͖̅̑͗̍ͥ̔̎̀̚̕ ̡̡͍̭̹̤̜̪̲̙̖͍́̇͛̇̌̀s̸̵̼͎̤͍̗͔̗̥̯̬̀̀̾́̐̋̋ͤ̆ͣ̓ͨ̐ͫ̋̒̋a̷̸̡̮̮̻͕̠̼͓̖̲̞̗̣̜̫̠͋ͣ́͌͗͐̔̈́̌̈͑͢͡m̪̬͚̤̲̦͍̩̼͉͇̬̰̘̣̰̒̏̑͗̆̽͊̈́͜͞ę̴̸̶̱̬̬̺ͨ͌͐͗ͫ̒ͦ́ ̶̷̛̪̟̪̠̜̅ͣ̎́͌̂ͩ̀͝t̡̘̣̫̎̀̅͗̿ͯ̾̊̂̽̎̂h̵̷̨̞̰͓̺͎͓̠̱̹̝̘̬̞ͯͯ̈́̎̈́͝i̿̀̎̊͏̸͇̺͖͓̬͙͚̻̫̞͍̥̩̺͢ṋ̡̧̣͇̲̹̝̩͎̬̰̮̻͚̜ͦ͊̍ͫͩ͗͊̌̅ͧ́gͪ͂̏̐̎̇ͬͥ͏̭̮̰͍̠̼̯͢͟ ̸̶̲̘̰̞͙̫̦͈̻͉̝̪͔̈̑̑̄́͌̒ͯ͊̄͗ͩͫ̉̌̐̾̃̅o̶͓̩̤̜͒̈́ͤͯ̄̂́͠v̵̸͖͉̹͉̟̜̖̼͖ͤ̅̌͑ͩͫ̅̆͆̒ͦ̃ͭ̆͒ȩ̥͕̭̦͈̮̯̝̣̗̒ͣͤ͑̉̄̋̋̐͆̿͌̂ͩ̓͑̾ͮͭ͟͠r̨̨̻̼̠̹̹̩͖̺̘̐ͧ͊ͥ̓̇̾̕͝ ͖͍͍͙̹̾͗̋͊̌́̚͠͝͡a̢̋ͪͦ̍́ͮͬ̒͌̎ͥ̒͌ͫ̍̋͘҉̣̼̖̳̜̠͕̞͎̯̯̮̺̬ͅͅṋ̡̥̠̤̙͎͖̺̲̭̬͔͈̿ͯ̊̕͜d̽ͯ͂ͬͧ̔̋͏̧͉̗̜͎͕̣̙͇̰̫̗͙̳̲͍̩̣ ̵̴͖̞̝̤̰̠̌͌ͧ͗̈́̓ͭ̿ͧ̀ͤ́̀͜ǫ̷̛̝̝̯̙͙͇̝̭̮̲̖̗̳̂͑͛ͥͤ̋ͩ́͞v̵̲̤̳͖̙̯̬͌͊̐͗̔͗ͥͧ̓̆̾́́͞͠ͅĕ̷͙̩̻͙̹̯̘͇̝͓̯̳͇̥̻̺ͬͫ̇͌ͭ̌ͦ̇͌́ͬ̒̎ͬ͢͝ͅr̶̊͌͑̅̊̿̓ͪ̃͛̀ͫ̐́͌̐҉̩̹̤͚̖͉̤ ̵̝̬͉̭͙͈̰̞̜̹͙͓͕̏͐͆̾̄̍͐ͫ̒͊̒̄̕͞ą̴̛̫̬̥̟͉͈̱̜ͧ͊͛̈́́͋ͪ̓͑ͫ͘͝g̷̷̯̘̰͍͈̝̟̻̖͉͚̣̲ͭ́ͫͥ̉͆͑ͣͩ̿͑͗ͩ̓̚̕͜a̸͍̝̠̜̮̣͙̲̺͎͍̯͕̣͛̂̈́̒ͥ̔̾̋̌̆́͞ḭ̧̝̟͇̘̘͖̬̙̣͂ͭͧ͗̆̋̈́̑̇̓͆̓̕͝͠ṋ̩̹͚̤͖̆ͧ͐ͯ͞͞?̴̑̄̈ͣ̆ͬ͏̧̹͇͉̪̤̞̰̪̬̪̭̣̝̣́͟’.
You ignored the messages and continued walking down the corridor. The further you went, the darker it became. Darker and darker until the corridor became pitch-black. You could hear your hoofsteps getting louder and louder, echoing throughout the dark chamber. Then, at what appeared to be the end, you saw a picture of Pinkie Pie, illuminated with a big light within the floor.
“I’m gonna make you smile,” you heard her echoing voice sing until it became deeper and more distorted, “And I will brighten up your day.”
The picture began to peel away, revealing a darker picture of the pink pony with her mane down. She was scowling, her eyes piercing your very soul. The more disturbing picture also peeled away into nothing more than a skull.
“Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for this whole time?” you heard her ask.
You turned around and you saw Pinkie Pie right next to you, staring at you with bloodshot eyes and an unnaturally wide smile. Her mane and tail were as straight as the previous picture depicted her and she wore a stitched-up dress with a different Cutie Mark on each patch.
“Or do you want to keep playing?” she whispered right into your ear.
You felt a chill down your back. You tried to back away but she wrapped her foreleg around you. She started glitching and morphing into other ponies, including a little pegasus filly.
“I’ve been waiting a̻͖̳̖̗̱̬͎̟̗͚̣A̹͍̱̬̙̞̖̱̘̤̥̗͎͕̭͙̭a̹̭͕̮̖͓̮͙̝̝̼̲͚a̟̻̱͎͉̘͙̭̦̯̙̯͈͉̤͖͇̲A̮͉̩̺͔̣̰̣͕̹̖̗̣̹̫̫l̜̜͙̯L̞̮̟̬͎̤̲͚͓͖̦͓̻̬̝̯̤͙l͓͖͉͓̗l̖͈̰̜̲̰̠̱͖͉̖͈̯͉ͅ day,” she said, her voice reverberating and changing pitch, “I’ve been s̶̶̢̢̳͎͍̫̖̟̝̤̦ò͕̣̗̗̩͕͓̼̫͉̥͓͚̻̝͘ͅó̷̡̦̝̼͎̫͚̯̱̻̥̗̼o͕͇̪̲͙̜̞̻̘͙̜̳̭͟͟ǫ̷̺̠̖̱͕̺̗̰͓̱̭̥̦̳́o̮̗͍̙̼̬̝̼̯͕̞̝̬̲̪͉̹͕͢͠ excited thinking about all the fun stuff we’re gonna do.”
You felt her caress your chest. She was still staring into you, as if she could see you through the screen you are reading this fic on. You tried to move away but she kept dragging you closer.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, “You don’t wanna be friends with me? I̗̤͉̦̦̫̮ ͏͕̥̗̦̮͈t̷͇̰̦̙̯h̦̻͍̦ͅo̺͎͖͍͚̳u͏̫̟̙g̫̟̝̩̗͚h̥̙̝t̷͕̜̤̺̖̪ ͇y̤͖ó͓̭̯̪̤͈u̪̜͙͝’͉̺̫̣̜͘d̶̲͖̣͓̱̥̖ ̦͔͟b̟e͡ ̹i̶̠͕̣n̖̝̩͔̼̦ͅț̱̬̞o͓̹͓ ̧̜̰t̵̖h̲̳̤̤a͇͡t̤̮̮̝̞͙ͅ ̩̲̖̟͘k̜̘͢ͅi̥͡n͍̖͍̮d̻̘̼̞̲a̜͈ͅ ̹̙̥̲̥̥t̤͖h̦̘̜̲͝i̲͙͚͙̞̘ṇ̝̺͕͉͡g̲,̺̜̘͟ ̘͖͇͖̩̫ͅc̛̩o͏̣̞̫͎̲͎̱n̳̞̞s̴͈̣̤͓i͏͓̙͇̜de͔̥̰̬ͅr̷ͅi̺n̰̯̮ͅģ͈̙̟͍̪̥ ̙̩͉̤͈̻y̗̙̻̪͈o͉̱̝̟̘̺̣͠u͖̯̲̼͔ ̥̻̦̩̳͈wa̻͇ͅtc̘͍̻͚̺͡h͇̣̪̰̥͉ed̛͚̟̹̦̻̙̣ ̡̩̜̜̖a͇̪̗͍ ̞̺͞c̭͇͜a͔̱̯̤̝r͔̬͎̜͈̪̦t̝̹̦̻o̜͖̱̣̪̮͢on̮̣̕ ̣̰͕̫̯͉ͅf͕̹͝ó͙̯r̟͔̜̮̭̣ ͖͓l̠̘̞͇̩̲̱i̼t̴͈͓̣t͕̩l̻͇̜̼͟ͅe̠̪͉ ̴͔̖͉g͏̱͉̥̖i̕ͅŗ͔͙͙͖l̗̲͚͇̺̤s҉̭̞ ̣̭͍̪̬̯̟͟t̻h̝̗̣͞ąt̳͓͝ ͎͠ͅt̫͇̲̦͇͕̀a͖̪͉̼̜̰͜ug̴̳͕̖h̟̰̹t͏̪̟͍̺̳̭ͅ ͖̞a̲̠͈̭̣͢l̜̪͙͎̻̼l ̯̳͉̞͍͞a̫̹̻b͍͙o͎u͏̞̠̬t͎̗̟̗ ̡f̷̠r̰̦͔̗ͅi͖̣̩̼͇͈ḛ̯͎̦̠̺n̳͍̪̯̕d͓̼̣̯̙̳̱̕s̪̙̪̗͍̼h̬͉į̰p̻̪̤ ̺a̵̗̬͍̰̼n̰͎̠͈d͏̳̘̯̦ͅ h͙̩̜ow̺̯̩͔̹͇ ̠̬̹̤͚̪y̩ou͔̟͙̤͓͇̤̕ ̱̪̥̘͝c̹̕ą͎͚̺n҉̳̭͕̩͇̭ b̯͉̦̜̲̬͡e̵͔͍̥̩̜ ̪̺̮͇̺f̷͕̮̗ri̼̠̺̭e̮̙̞n̴̘͓̱̪̳ḍ͈̰̘s̟̘͢ ̤̼͉͔̝̗̭w̜̬̫̱̹i̭͇͉͈͞t̘̬͖̻̲͡h̢̝̼̟̱̖͚̟ ̶̪a̷l̺m̙̞͔͞o̹͕͕̣s͍̥̗̖̥̘t̶͍̣̦ ̻͍̕a̷̱n̤̼͍̣͈̮y͖̭̺͘o̮̖̞͇̣ṋ̛̥̮̼̟̻e̘̞.̡ O̦̦̮̟͇̼̻̒̍ͮ̋͆̔̾͐͘͝ͅr̢͉̠̻ͫ̎̋̓ͮ͌̈͟͝ ̡̖̟̂̍̎̑̒́m̩͙̖̖̊ͤ͑ͦ͑ͪä̼͈́͊͂ͤͯ̃̔̉̕y̸͕͕͉͚̙͙̜͎̲͛ͧͥͪ́͠b̵̨̬̫̗̮̦̬̱͋͂ͫ̎͗̊͡ḛ͓̹̟͖͎̯͎̀̅͆̆̓͘ ̞̏̏ỷ̶̛̙͇̰͖̞̻̭ͤͩ͟o̗̼̝͔̜͎̣̹͊͆̂u̧͎̲ͤ͋̂́͟ ̡͓̙͇̥̰͌ͦ̏̄̊̚p̛̙̠̝͋͗̃͜͜r̸͈̗̩̦̭͚̟̞̈ͦ̋ͫ̔̿ͬ̄e̘̱̲̥̘͈̜͈ͫͤ̑͆ͪ̆f̷̧͙͓̤̹̫̩̜̘̬̃ͪ̅e̘͎̮̤̟̩̋̇͑̑ͪ͒̓̍̀r̴̢̳͔̭̭̮̝̠̜̖̿̏ͣͩ̑͆̚͞ ͉͕̻ͧͯ̅̑ͯͯͣ̔t̷̛͈͓̯̠͇̬̽̌͝õ̳̘͇̙̣͑ͭͨ̑ͫͯ͑ͅ ̸̲̯̜͉̭̞͒͢â̫̜̣ͥͣ̅ͯ̏͘͡ŗ̵͓͈̹̌g̴͉͔͎͍̘̬̎͒u̵̵͖̻̣ͨ̀e̅̏҉̝̝̻̟ ̈́͗̏ͨ̏̌̈́̂͡͏̻̩͈͖̟ả̛̻̻̼̤͉̗͎̪̑̀̒̑̂̽̚̚m̪̹̬̰̰̰̻̣̐ͦͮ͘ǫ̸̥̱̼͙̪̮̗̏̍ͭ̅͊͐ͅñ͚̲͎ͣ̄̆͟ĝ̵̳̿̃ͣ̉͢s̏ͭͮ̍͆̇͏̷̗̭͘t͑҉̗͇̭̦̤̬ͅ ̡̟̥̣̠̯̖͕͉͓̎̎ͪͧy̨̖̜̟͕̮̫͙̪͂͛̎̚ǫ̴̺͓̠̓ͥ́̽ͪͬͫ͝u̵͚̩͙͖̮͎͆͟r͔͖̲̯̾́ͅs̸̻̜̪̩͎̭ͭͯ̑͟͠ę̶̰͕̹̥̥̣̤̮̄͌ͩ̉̂͂͋̀ļ̙̣̹̖̞̲̎ͥ̊̔ͣ̑ͫ͟ͅv̴̧̦ͪ͐͌̂̆̋e͎̦͉̍̃ͬ̎̾ͨ̓s̻̀͑ͪ̏̑͆̀̂̕͡ ̨͕̉͆́ͤͫͥ̍͊ą̴̜͚̝͈͇̬̉̈́̋́ͣb̵̻͙̹̰̤̻̃̆̏̌o͔͎̝̮̻͎̓ͧ̊u̘̠͓̖̯̞̟̫ͪ̇͛͊ͥ͂̀ͤ̕͢t̴͆̂ͮ̐͢͏̮̭̘̺̞̪ͅ ̴͉̞̳̫̱͈̅ͫ̆ͬ̚p̵͈͉̒̂͐̽̈ͥ͘e̸͍̰̼̭̥̜̰ͨ̽ͣ͒͊̒̈́͘ţ̷̡̟̫̗͈̠͚ͦͩ͂͂͛ͧͬͩt̻̻̰̤̞̯̹̍̔͑͌̒ͭ̾͛y̷̢̩̟̯̲̦͓̐͐ͤ̀͌̿ ̵̸̀ͬͭ̇͗҉̜̲͎̖̲̭l͛̑͆ͣͩ͐̒̚͏͏̺̙̭̦̯̳i̖̜͕̣͓̟̙̍ͪͣ̓̀͠tͨ̌̆ͧ͗̌҉̞͈̣̤̱̰͈̲͕ṫ̛̪̗͓͇̪ͯ͘l̸̤͛͌ͬ͗̉̒͒ͧ͞e̼̟̰̔̂̐ͥ͜ͅͅ ̱̠̥̹͙͉̥̪̓̈́t̙̫̓̊͋͂ͧͥ͠h̠͚͕̓̅͐̆̃ͦͪ̑ͭ͢i̛͎̞̙̳͖͔͐̆́͆ͯ̾̊̚n̢̞͕̤̰͎̝͉̺ͦ͗g̴̦̩̅̅ͧͧ̈͢ś͖̖͎́̕ͅ ̨̱͖̩̹̋̒ͮ̚͘l̪̼͍̖̳̏ͭͬ́̑̂ͦi̖̩ͩ̍̒̌̎k̶̡͔̣͈ͧ͌ͩ̇̔̓e̺̦̱̹̩̪ͩ̾̊̈͒͡ ̙̰͌͑̊ͤͬ̕w̼̺̟̬͕̖̗͛͛̉̽̊̽̃̑̀͟ḩ̼̟̣͖͛͑͒̀ͅy͌̾ͩͣ̉̐҉̪ ̡̬̻̻̰̳͓͂̊ͮͥ͐̈͜ͅd̢̗̟̹̥ͣͫ̍͋͛ͦͬ̽i̢͇͈̗̬̠̳̗̞ͥͭ̔̇ͬ͠d͍̻̼͔ͤͤͬ ̧͈̳̜̈́̽ͫ̑͆͒́̚à̵̜̙̖ͮ́ ̵̝̞͙̜͓̞̤̦̉̎͜c̡̲̖͎̗͎͉͕ͫ̂̽ͧͪ̅̕͞h̨͚̖͓͚̟̮̫ͫ̑ͦ̆͜i̛̛͇̭̇̓́ļ͎̖͊̔̇̽ͬ́̈d̴̶̟̤̫̩̓̄ͅ ̋̽ͪ̄̌̊͏͓̜̺̞̹͘͡g̨̠̦͈̳͈̟͎͂ͦ͠͡ͅͅę̵̤̭͉̼̄̅ͦ̃̓͛̿̚͠ͅţ̰̹̰̹̓̅ͬ͑͑͌̀͠ ͔̮̦͉͗ͥ̕t̡̲̱̠̠̞̍̓ͧ͐ŭ̯̺̻͙ͬ͌͌͛ͧͩ͢r̛̘̗̱̩̞̥̝̻̱̔ͣ͂̈n͑͐҉̫̗͞e̶̢̙̫͚̗̟̳͈͆̐ͬ̽d̤̺͓͈̟̻͓͎͕́͗̀̊̀͋ ̦̜̤̻̖͙͙͈ͯͣ̏̇́tͩͥͦ̾͡҉̢̩̩o͐̂ͣͮ̋͏͔̺͈͙̘̤̠ ̨͕͍̻̆́ͧsͦ͏̩̰͈͚͙̙͎͇t̊̂͂҉̨̼̞̞̞͉̱͔̦o̧͈͔̪̲͇̫̊̃̆ͫ́n̴̡̜̪̽̀̒͒̎͗̌e̠ͧ̓ͫ̒ͭ̚ ͈̔́̒́ͦͬ͗͘͜͢w͕̯͐̃͢͢ḥ̵͇̟͖̻͛͋͗ͤį̴̞̖͎̱ͫͩ͊ļͤͫͬ̃͡҉̮̯̬͓̯͈ḙ̵̰̼͊̃͛̍͢ ̵̸̗͖͚͔͎̪ͣ̏̾̓̎̀o̪͍̅ͧ̃̐̈ͬl̵̻̣͔̺̪̅̚͢͟d͚̟̝͔͔̜͚͐ͭ̅̋ͅê͈̘̟̘̙͔̅͆̀ͧ͟ȑ̢͖̗̗̪͇̗͎̓̐̽́̈́ ͓̙̯̥̟̼̲͈̇̐͆̂̇̑ͩ̇̚͞͞č͈̼͚̺͎͎͉̰̎ͮ͡ḩ̴̤̯͈͂ͥͦͤͫͭ͌̚a̳̘͈͊ͧ̇͛̀̚r̷̡̯̊̃ͧ̆͝ā̳̪̔̉̇͗͘ç̏ͭͬ͂̇̊҉̞̦͇̺t̖͇̅̿̀̓e͚͓͚̝͊ͭ́̕r͍̮͕̯̮͍̹̓ͬ̓́̕s͈̻̟͇̅̑͒̒̑͐̑̚ ̞̱̺̺̲͎̫̗͌̍͂̂̍̀͟g̫̳͍͇̥͈͙̖͓ͨ͊̓̈͘ḙ̸̞̯̖͎̗̬̓ͪ͑͋ͩ̉̽̌ẗ́̀̀̉̓ͭ͋҉̻̩ ̷̗̣͖̩ͮͮͯ̑̐ͥ̀o̼͕̲͌̒͊͞f̮̀̎ͬ͒ͮ̑ͭ̚ḟ̦̫̣̗̘̟̻̯̩̽̎̆͂͜ ̱͕̞̭̫ͦ͒͊̓̒͊ͧ͘s͔̩̠͍̦͑ͫ͑͠͠c̦̞̹͙̰ͬͧ͊͘͢͝o̼͖̭̬̫̬͆̐͑͜͠ṯ̴̶͉̳͙͊͐̈́̆̐ͫ̚͡-̸͚̜̦̘̘͋̓ͨ̌̇̄ͥ͜f̸̤̬̞̩͙̉͊͗̽̀͠ř͇̺̟̲̪̗̰̦̬͑ͪ́͌̌̆ͬe̖̱͍͚̰̞̖͙ͦ̏͠e̛͚̮͍͚̼̔̄͌̉̃̚͝ ̴͍̠̥͙̪̜̽͋͂ͧ͂̈́ͧ̃̂͘ͅf̢̫̙̣̹͖̣͊́̀͊̊̓͘o̘̻͉̩̯̙͍̿̎̆͡r̔̋ͬ͑ͦ̂̓̓̚҉̷̠ ̶̞̰͇͇̭̭̩ͨ̅͘t́ͣͣ̃ͫ̐̐҉̷̶̫h͕̔̇ͣ̉̀̄ͭͤͧ͡e̢̮͓̱̗͚̟͇ͤͪ̌͛͗ͤͣ͊ͣͅi̷̻̗̾̐̐ͣͅȑ͚͉̻̟̹͚̩̦̋ͫ̊ ̛͕̗̬̣̗̺͍̝̿̈̋̌ͮ͊̑̊ͯ͝c͋̿̑ͩ̿͏͕̘͈͚̮͉͝r̗̱̪̭̪̥͊̊́̃͋̿͟͢i̴̤̳̍̐͗͑̍m̴̡̦̆̏ͣ̅̆̆ͪ̎e̝̩̯̪͉̖̹͛̔ͭ̓ͣ̃ͩ͂̀͜s̐̆ͩͫ̅ͭ̅͡͏̢͚͔͕.̴̧̩͈̖̙͆̕ O̶̵̵̧̓̐ͧ̅ͤ͑ͥͤ҉̰̘̟̯͔͙̲͈̬̖̳̰̩r̸̡̡͕̺̗̞͙̼̘̲͚̻̼̞̪̭͓̻̻̠͎ͯ̋ͪ̽͐͗̒͑ͭ͊ͦ̋ͨ͑̈́̕͜ ̬̱̙̳̖͎̘̪̺̲̼̲̮̭̺̤ͪ̆ͬ́͘h̶̨̭̹͖̺̬̥̻̦̬̘͍̲̜͔͇̮͖͕͆̓́ͩ͒̕͠ơ̬̯̦̹̳̩͖̜̬̥͚̦̤͕̦͇̳͖̈́ͥͮ̑̓͑͋͟w̨̧̛͖̩̝̖̹̳̭̝̟̫͖̤ͭͤ̽̑ͧͪͫ͆̅́̚͟ ̞̭̜̱̙̩̫̝̦͚̣͙̗̒ͥ̃͢͠͠a̛̦̬͕̣͈̙̙͈̱̝̮ͣ̇ͧͪ̐̉̓̀ͭ͛ͫ͝ ̡̃͋̆̑͗̒ͯͮͯ͂̉́̄̈ͤ̇̚̚҉̴̱͉̺̯̳̙͎̀c̔͒̇ͯ̐ͬ̀͟͡҉̞̘͙̥̘̙̦͔͢ẽ̷̮̮̦̻̳̦̲̙̫̘͈̮̩̪̪ͪ̈́͒͗ͫ̃ͪͪ̀͠r̩̭̮̹̲̫̤̣̞̘̘̘̯͔̂͊͂̾͊̍͗̇ͬ̄͊ͩ͂ͭ͂ͮ̈́̃͠͠t̎ͮ̿̆̈́͗ͣͯͬ̍ͬͯ͏̗͓̬̦̞͈̗͈͉͕̻̭̙͓a̵̢͕͚̭̼͓̪͙̲̜͎̜͂̌͌ͪ͛̆i̶̛͓̮̜̬͎̼̤̻͉̮ͦ̒͋ͩͩ̓̂ͫ͋ͅn̳̘̬̗̖̖̲̫̜̻̭̣̬̹͗́ͯ̾ͬͧ̋̔̔͂̅̏͒͋̾̽͊̈͘͝ ̸̧̙͇̭͙͔͉̇̽̿̓̀͢͜uͨͯ̑ͮ͌̽͛̾ͨ̇̃͛̉̚͏̷̮̖̞͉̘ǹ̡͔̖͎͈̖̗͖̩̠̜̯̞̦̩͙͇ͦ̃͊͒̓̓̅͐̇̈́̃̒ͫͫͪ̏̏́̀̚ͅi̺͙͖̹̙͕̙̓ͭ͋̊ͦͮ͊ͥ̓̒̐ͤ͟͜c̴̢̖͉̣͉̗͇͉͕̰̰̹ͭ̀̇ͫͯ̎ͯ̈́ͣ̆ͪͯͤͭ̔̌̾̚͘o̝̰̤̩̫̯̗̺ͧ̓ͤ̉͑͂̍ͬ̓̏͛̇́̚͟͡͝r̨̢̝̪̲̭͕͎͙̬̪̪̞͑͌͛̽̒̉̿ͧ̾͂ͭ̽͗͘͢n̷̨̫̝̭̠̻̲͊̇͂ͬ̒ͨ́́̂̈̉̏̒ͣͦ̈͡ ̶̗̤͎͔̟̩̇ͧ̍̌͠ä̷̴̙̗͈̰̖̦̰̱̙̗͖̼̭̩́̍̉ͥ͜ͅͅp̴̩̠͕͇̭̞̮̗̣̭͍̭͎͕̯̹͍̏͛͋ͮ͆̂̑ͪ̇͆̾̎̆ͅp͑ͦͭ͛̐ͦ̎̎ͬ̑̄̊̀̅̓͏̝̤͎̝͇̞̖͖̜̖̜̯͓̩͢ḁ̶̘̭̺͎̼̝̺͕͓͈͕͐ͪ̐ͨ̆̂̇̾̓ͯ̕͝r̶͆̾͌̔̒̒̂̉̽̒̐ͣͭͥͣ҉̡̯̫̹̘͙̮͓͜͠e̛̗̠̺̥̟̼̩̭̪͚̠̯͚̮͎̼͆͒̇ͧͫ̓̄́́͘n̢̝͔͉͓̱͉̤͈̐͛͗ͬ͌̊ͥ̄̀̃́̊̅̀͘͢t̜͙̰̫̱̻͕̬͙̫͔̰̥̅ͤͥͦ͒ͨ̇͐ͯ̓ͯ̄̄̎͘͡͠l̡̨̥͙̪̪̳̒̄̿̐̒͑y̶̤̘̠̦̼͌̅̆̋ͨ̅̍̅̀̾̀͐͌̾̏̍̚ ̸͍͕̹̜̩͚͓̝̭͇ͦ͋́ͪd̶̜̜̟̲̭̠̬̘̤̙̹̞͆ͧ̂ͦ͗́̒ͮ͢ͅỉ̡̛͖̣͕̥̟̯͖̰̰͈̞̼̋̾͋͌ͣ̊ͧ͒̿ͨ̈́͌̿̄͘͟ͅd̡̩̪͉͔̳̝̖͚̖͊̿ͯ̒̑̓͋̒͊̽ͧ͊̌ͦ̒͐ͯ́͟͟ ̛̤͓̺̖̥͕̺͙̺̣͙̗͋̅̃̄͐̎̋ͦ̉̇̍ͦͬ̽͆ͨ́̕͝ň̵̟͕̼̲̟̭̝̺̖̹̔ͨ̌̌ͣͯ̅́̏̅̎͒ͭ̏̔̇̊̕͠͞o̽͒ͧͭͦ̈ͭ̀̐́҉҉̹̼̬̝̞͓̱̣̦͉̼̺͔͇̦̪͟t̾̎̽̋͑͛ͩ̌̈́͏̨͇̹̬̝̫͎̣̲̥̙͖͝h̨ͥ̾ͤ̔̽̆̇̈̎͂͛͏̫͖͔͕i̇̅̏͑̀҉̗̰̬̞͇͍̣̭̗͓̝͇̠n̆ͪ͋ͩ͑́͛̈̃͒̚͏̸̹͔̥̤͖̗̰̮̜g̽ͥ̇ͣ͊̃́̈́͒ͦͭ͗ͯ͌̑ͭ̽̚̚͜͏̱̞̤̜̜̼͎̦̖̼ ̢̲̳͓̠̲̯̝̙̲̿̇͐ͤ́ͩ̊̽ͤ̔ͫ̃̊͂́͝ͅẅ̡̥̭̗̦̈́̽̓̈͒̓̃͗̌̇͡ͅr̵̙̯̱̰̭͇̿̽͑ͮ̒̿ͫ͑͡oͦ̈͒̒̉̇ͧ̀̕͝҉̮͓͈̘̭̼̠̪̬̰͔̮͉̺̭͈̀ͅn̗͎̗̦̦͈͚͉̩̮̹̳͍̻̤͚̒ͫ͋͂ͯͧͥ͊̋ͫ̒̿ͩ́̕ģ͓̼̜̖̺͍͖̟̩̳̈̂̌̽ͮ͊ͥ̓ͦ͐ͤ͂̚͞.̸̛̬̭̞̭̖͉̜͇͚̝̯̩̣͓̼̾͆̄̇̔̒̏̉̽͡ͅͅ”
She pinned you onto the floor, cracking your ribs in the process. You groaned in agony as she pressed her hoof on your broken ribs.
“Or maybe you don’t pay attention to those lessons,” she snarled, “You should. They could teach you how to be a better person instead of creating m̰̺ó̖̹͙̓͞n̡͇̥͇͈̥̮̲s͚̠̟̟̟̘͋͋͊͑͒t͍̟̤̹͊ͬͦ̈̓̚ͅé̦̮͕̙͚͚ͥͧͪr͔̫̕s͓͓̙̤̺͂͆͐̆̒̚ l̮̞ͭ͑̄ͥ͑ͤͭ̌͜͝i̩͔̙̫͗ͭ͐̓ͨ̋ͦ̓́k̛̼̲̫̞͋ͤ̏e̷̫͍͈͆ͭ̉ͩ̃ͤͯ́̕ M̡̛̩̣͍͇̩͖̣̭̐̅̉̀̓ͤ͂̾̂̓̆͋ͤ̎͑ͮ͆Ȩ̐̊̓ͥͥ̂̀̚҉̯̲͈̥̫̹͓̼̬͖̞̲̖̬̤͙͕̬̹!̷̵̶͖͖͕̟̬̪͚̭̙̠̰̭̰̤̼̘̎̄͋͛ͥ̑ͤ̀”
You started coughing after she jumped off of your chest. Her mane sprung back to its usual curly appearance, though it was still glitching from time to time.
“But let’s not focus on the negatives,” she said jovially, “After all, your brain is just wired for negativity. We need more positive thoughts in your life. So I’m gonna be a good friend and give you two options. You could stop playing this funny little game of ours and read something more positive, like pornography or a random slice-of-life comedy or whatever you're into, or you could go back to the beginning and see how deep the rabbit hole goes. Either way, you won’t remember this conversation, should we meet again.”