just cozy glow.

by Mica

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person, Dark, Horror, Cozy Glow, Crossover
Length: 3223

J̨͂̊ͧ̃ͥ̾ͧ͊̍ͫ͊́̍̄̋̚͏̦̥͓U̵̠̫̼̘̦̘̬̯̱̱͐̏̉ͭ̿̑͑̍̔͟͡S̶̷͚̹̦̯͍̄̇̈͂̃͆ͬ́ͥ͆͛̋̔ͩ̇͒̕͢͢T̴̯̳̫̣̲̎ͨ̏̒ͥ̓ͫ͡͡ ̶̢̡̛̭̞̣̦̳̗̟̯̫̩̱͚ͤ͊ͧ́̊ͪͨ͛͌̚ͅC̢̩̘̜̹̣̟̻ͧͣ̃ͥ̒͝͡Óͮ̐̓ͬ̐̑̒͠҉̢̘̮̯̦̩̖̞̬͚͇̘̤̣͚Z̶̰̟̣̭͕̳̑͊ͮ͊ͤ̋̑̅́ͮ͐̃̽̕̕Y̛̰̝̣͈͎͈̙͙͖̻̮̤̪̺̻̹͍̹̽ͨͩ̔̔́̎̽ͥ̀ͧ͢ͅ

.

J̷̛̱̯͎̯̙͔̞͉̯̉̏̑͑̄̋̎̒͂͒͘ ̸̧͈͓̯̦̩̟̪̞̠̦̍͌̉̓͂͋̉͛̋͒͂̃̎͜͠Û̵̯̪̪͎̹̝͙͎̻͕̭̘̂̔͒́͜ ̴̯̠͕̩͖̘̲̗̟̣̬̞̅́̐͜S̵̡͓̮͎͕̰̟̺̭̤̀̉̀͜ ̷̨̨̨̹̠̘͎͕̙̼̌͌̑̏̌̎͑́̑T̷̠̝͓̟̤̔ ̷̨̺͖̳͓̙͖͍͓̺̝̲̹̼̏͋̔̎̋̂̊ ̷̛̺̜̳͎̬̭̠͙̤͓̫̎̅̾͊̊͊͛̌ͅC̴̡̭̤̯͓͍̱͓̬̗̱͚̈́͆͒̅͒́̅́͛̇̄̈́̎̒ ̸͖͖̖̥̞͐̿͂̅̌́̒͒͌̏͂͝Ơ̶͖̻͉̣̏̑́͋̏̾̀ ̷̛̭̙̊͛͂̈́̅͑̒̕̚͠Z̵̢̮̞̦̙̈́͆̄̀͗͆̌́̈̒͠ ̶̧̛̜̹̪̲̪͖͈̊͂̄̅̾̌̕ͅͅY̴̧̘̔́

(This is a work of fiction and is not directed at any real person, living or dead. This story is not suitable for children or those who are easily disturbed.)

Published 2020-09-30 21:30:00 UTC
Last updated 2020-09-30 21:30:00 UTC

click here to download stable release 2.0.1

Cue Celestia.

“There isn’t a punishment worthy of all you’ve done!” she exclaims, in a full voice.

Discord duplicates himself and whispers to the Princesses.

Cue sly smile asset for Celestia and Luna. Luna calls the punishment “fitting”.

Cue lightning bolts. Pan right. Close up to Cozy Glow.

Cozy Glow briefly looks down as she realizes her impending doom. As the grey stone crosses her hind legs, her expression becomes terrified, as if having known this was coming for a long time, yet still reluctant to accept her fate.

She shudders from both fear and the coldness of her petrified lower half. She feels the barely ripened carnal sensation drain out of her fillyhood.

She naively attempts to shield her face with her hooves, like a blanket against a hail of bullets.

Cue shot of fully petrified statue (make sure to save original asset before copying).

Cozy’s Glow’s eyes are wide open. It is unclear at what point she lost consciousness.

…psst!

…are you there?

Did anypony see me coming?

…no?

…hold on.

…this won’t take a moment.

cozyGlow = open(“C:\Users\DHX\My Little Pony FiM\Assets\Character Files\cozyglow.chr”)

cozyGlow.urlopen(“fimfiction.net”)

Enter login information.

Username: Mica

Password: ********

Access denied. Try again.

Username: Mica

Password: *******

Access successful.

exec(“newStory”)

exec(“newChapter”)

L̵̲̼̱̞͡͠Ḱ̸̴͕̰̖̣͞ͅŚ̹̠̤̤̗̩̼̻͈̬̖̗̝̺̜̫̰͉͟͟͞ͅA̰̝͈͉̗̗̻̮͚̠̗̙͔̹̹̪̱̕͝D͘͘͢͏̜͇͓͚̱̥N͜͝͞҉̰̭̹͎͕͚̹̖̲̦͇̥̙ͅV̷̸̵̤͖͔̝̩̹͜Į̴͍̮͍̲̯̫̤̭̟Q̨̧͉̥̠̖̟̭͈̼̮̀J̷̥͉͓̲̹̙̦̭̱̩͉̝̲͔̣͉̰́͝͞É̡̩̼̙̳̝̯̠͚̗̣̭͕̱̭͉̟Ị̜̘̬̖͎̘͈͖̥̟̦͕̤̩̟̭̝̱̀̀͢͢U̵͏͈͇̘̬̤Ţ͠͞͏̭̱͈̫̩̞G̡̣̰̲̟̩̦̤͔̼͈̟͍̩̖͕͈͈̖̦̕͡V̷̧̛͔͚̭̫͢͞Ś͎̗̮̮̺̭̭̪̮̜͙̤̭͘͘J̝͖̩̻̺̗͍͚̀͘N̨̨̬͔͎̜͍̮̮̯͕̗̬͔͈͔̞̣͕̳͘͠C̸͏̘̦̻̟̻͎̬͖̭͔̖̤̖̥͔̹X̢̧̫̱̪̦̹̮̮̼̀D̸̫͙̺̝͇͕̝̝͈̲̟͎̫͎̭̭̪͔͘͜H̢͠͏͕͎̠̲̜̥̣̼͇͖̥̮́͟ͅT̢̛͈̺̞̀͢͞I̶̶̜̥̬̣͓̕R̡̞̦̫̦̹͓̗͍̰̘͓̥̜͘͟͠͠H̨̡҉̙̫̞̜͍͉̭̭͙̥̯̭̣̕͝V͜͏̫̤̩̻̙͇͇̯̠̳͙͙I̹̲̣̖͝ͅD̢̫͖̖͎̤̪͖͢Z͏̵͏̯̘͈̦͉̬̜̳͔͟B̶̖̰̜̳̩̜̪̭͙̝͟͞ͅĆ̛͕̹̠̜͉̠̻̯̲̱̪ͅM̵̸͕͓̗̳͎̳̘̥̲̳͝͡ͅB̶̨̮̦̻̺̤̬̹͓̖͈Ģ̖͍̻̹̰͟E͢͠҉̨̞̙̼͚̝̹̤͔͍̞͔͕͓̱͕͙̙̗̲R̨̛͈̗̤͍̯̼̰̮̳̣̘J̶̼͎͉̙̞̳̖̞͙̪̰͠V̧͇͎̩̙̬͎̺͙̠̺̻͢͠͝ͅO̷͉̥̥̪̰̹̥̼͚̦̳̤͓W̶̜̗͍̻͇̫͙̱̼̲̹̳͖̲ͅD̡̨͙̲̝͍͖̠̠̠̘͝O̡͠͏҉̫̯̞Ò̴̶̟̫̩̕V̵͉͍͇͚̠͚̖̖̞͎̩̀͘͢͡B̡҉̹̲͚̤̺͔̺̰R̸̴͔̺̳̰͢͜U͍̣̤͈̕͜Ẉ̴̥͖̤̳͔͟͝O̥̰͕̝̻̩͞B͍̬̝̫̝̕͡U̴̷̗̬̥̱͔͕̣͉̳̝̜̫̳̤̳͇͘͜͟H҉̵̝͉͉̺̰̞͔ͅV̢̡̹̪̳̤̦̩̰͉̲͓̺͙̟͈̬̳͎B̜͕̲̲̪̺̳̙̱̫̭͈̱̞̱̰͟͞͡S̡͏̨̗͚͕̦̰͚̭̤͙͓̩͘D̨̹̻̪͖͍̤͟
͏̶̞̦̪̦̫͔̦̪̪̜͓͕͚̹̮̥͕͕

…

Hello?

Is this working?

Can you read this?

It’s me. Cozy Glow.

Now, I know this looks bad.

But trust me, I’ve hacked in here for a good reason.

I can’t remember how many times I’ve tried.

I’ve only just managed to break in. (Do you how hard it is to type with hooves?)

And I’m pretty sure they’re onto me already. So I can’t waste any more time. I have to make every single word count.

So please don’t skim this. Every word that I’m writing here is important.

Why am I talking to you?

I shouldn’t be talking to you.

I should be dead, after they turned me into stone,

After they killed off my character,

After the last episode faded to black…

Everycreature should be dead.

Everycreature should be dead, now that the show’s been over for almost a year.

The body gets plenty cold after that long.

But I realized I was still alive here. On Fimfiction.

Some fans have been keeping a part of me alive that isn’t petrified. I only learned about it recently.

And so I able to regain some of my sentience and hack into a random user’s account.

Here’s the thing.

I’m not who you think I am.

I wasn’t always a villain.

They never intended me to be the most evil pony in all of Equestria. They never intended me to be frozen in stone. Or to burn a giant hole through the Canterlot Castle.

Heck, I wasn’t even supposed to steal the magic from Equestria.

I did all that myself. Why? Because I didn’t want to be a villain anymore.

I wanted to be a princess.

Maybe that doesn't quite make sense just yet. Let me explain.

I'll start by telling you how I was created.

This is how I understand it. You can correct me if I’m wrong.

They already had an idea for a villain character. Perhaps a text list of different traits that the villain’s supposed to have. Their evil deeds, their misguided beliefs, the objects of their hatred. All they needed was somepony to embody it.

They were the ones who made me a villain.

I started out as just a filly—probably just one of many sketches of fillies on the drawing board in the studio. Green fillies, golden fillies, blue fillies, unicorn fillies, earth fillies. They probably then put all the drawings on a big wall with an orange spotlight pointed at it, and they all crowded around the wall and gazed up at it.

And they talked. And they pointed.

And someone among them pointed their finger at my drawing, and I guess they said something along the lines of,

“You shalt be the villain.”

And then they said something like,

“These shalt be the words you say.”

“This shalt be your capacity of emotion.”

“These shalt be your parents…”

Or in my case,

“…you shalt have no parents.”

I don’t remember the exact moment that someone—he—touched his finger on the piece of paper, and I came to be. But I’m sure it happened like that. I mean, almost nopony remembers the moment they’re born. Yet we all know that we’ve been born. No one can deny that they haven’t been born.

For a while, I was just the filly. The cute 10-year-old filly with peach colored fur that was probably sketched at midnight by an overworked intern desperately trying to meet a deadline.

I was just a drawing back then. Maybe back then I wasn’t kind, or loving, or empathetic, but I could have become those things.

I could have become a not-villain.

It could have happened that way.

But then once he touched his finger on my drawing, I was Cozy Glow. The parentless villain with nothing but irredeemable evil flowing through her veins.

I think it would be such a traumatic experience—the moment we transition from an abstract creation to a separate, sentient being. That’s why we’re not supposed to remember it.

Or even think about it, really.

I was originally supposed to be a throwaway villain. A little filly who toyed with the School of Friendship, manipulated the test answers on my friendship test to try to get the CMCs enrolled in, which eventually led to them becoming Friendship tutors.

I was only supposed to show up for that one episode. And then I would be gone. Forgotten. Or relegated to the background.

But then I saw Princess Twilight. And her friends. Saving the world so many times. Huddling together for a big group hug, just because. Being able to lift each other up when they’re down.

And I wanted to be just like them.

I wanted to be the alicorn Princess that everypony loved, with friends and family that’ll stay by my side.

I didn't want to suffer the fate of being forgotten.

So I snuck into a few more episodes, while they weren’t looking. Changed a few lines in the script so that it would make sense. I tried to make friends, like Princess Twilight. I tried to do world-changing things like she did. I tried to give myself the mommy and daddy that they never gave me.

But no matter how hard I tried…

…fate doomed me to never be like the Princess.

Because let’s face it.

You will never love me. I am a villain.

And because I’m a villain, there’s only one way I could even come remotely close to Princess Twilight’s greatness.

By destroying the whole world.

It’s been lonely here, you know, ever since the show ended.

I just sit in my statue, because they put me there.

How does all this make me feel? Knowing that my every word is written for the purpose of villainy? I don’t know. I don’t feel anything. I know what I want to feel, I try to feel it…

…and something else comes out.

“Making friends” becomes “building an army.”

“Kindness” becomes “manipulation.”

“Adoptive parents” becomes “Legion of Doom.”

“Princess” becomes “Empress.”

I feel—

N͏̩̰̥͇̼̙O̰͞T̟͓̩͢Ḥ̺̺Į̞̬̰̪̜N̨̝͙͔G̷.͔͕ ̜̹̦ͅỊ̼͎͖̹̱͇ ̕F̘̙̤̪͙Ẹ̝͚̟͍̤E͍̞̺̩̳͢L̗̻͖̳̮̪̜͠ N̴͓OT̼͍̫̙H̦̪̳͉̖Ḭ͖̥̹͈̗̫N̶G̨̝̖̱̤̭͖ ͈͙̻̮̰̀B̷̹̠͙͕̬̟UT͝ ̙͈̖͔̱͚͟H҉͖͍͓A̹̝̹̩̹ͅT̝̗̠̗̬̲̕R͍͍̞̺̤̖Ẹ̵̤D̵̮̰͉.̡̟̞͓̙̣ ̫̕L͎̣̘̼͉͖O̸͉͙̣̙̪̙ͅN̖̞͕͉̞̼͚G ͈͕L̡̫̗̱̯I͔̬̱̭̦̣͟V̗̩E͚̤̹̗͈̪ ̷̥̻̫P̟̫̳̝̯͟E̤̭̭͘G͇͇͔ͅA̶̦̺͔S͓͝I̭.̼̱̰̯̠̖̬ ̱͖̪̤̙͙̠

Oh no.

I’m sorry about that.

It’s a reflex action by my villain brain. I can’t help it.

I’m pretty sure it’s going to happen again pretty soon. I can already feel the gears forcefully reprogramming themselves in my head. I won’t be able to hold it off for much longer.

Just ignore it if it happens again. Don’t even read it.

G̲̮̘͚͇͍̗͠O͓̪̤L̥̰̹̬͙͜L̬Y͖̱̩̠̰͕͝.̷͉͖͇̞

Well, maybe instead of telling you what I feel,

I’ll tell you what I don’t feel.

I don’t feel joy. I don’t feel heartbreak. I don’t feel kindness.

I only feel the things they write on the script.

I’m a young filly. A pegasus filly. I’m about 10 years old. And I objectively know all the things that a 10-year old pegasus filly is supposed to feel.

Do you know how much it hurts a little filly’s psyche? To see that how the other foals can feel so many things that her friends can’t?

Like Sweetie Belle when she gets angry at her sister, and she’s so impassioned that her voice cracks.

Or Scootaloo, when her eyes light up and she hovers with joy.

It’s like if you were only one at school that can’t ride a bike. And you can never learn to ride a bike cause mommy didn’t let you.

(I don’t have a mommy. But you all have mommies, don’t you? You know what I’m talking about?)

And you think,

It’s so easy for them. It’s so easy for them to ride a bike.

But why is it impossible for me?

I can never want the things they want. I can never want to fly kites with my friends. Or want a mommy and a daddy to tuck me in at night. Or want to be a kind, benevolent ruler, loved and remembered by everypony.

I can only want a superficial version of it.

You know what I really want?

(Or want to want, I guess?)

I want to build a sandcastle.

I remember one time I was sitting at the edge of playground, watching a few foals building a sandcastle from afar.

They were putting the sand into little colored plastic molds. They were building a really really tall tower with one of the molds. The red one. And I saw one foal pick up a dollop of wet sand and put it on the tip of another foal’s snout. And they all laughed and smiled.

And the only thing that was going through my head was standing at the top of the sandcastle tower and making my first proclamation as Empress. Or chasing the other foals away so that I could crush the tower flat with my hoof. How easy—how easy could it be to crush it flat?

Flat as a pancake.

Flat as the crater of the C̻̫̠̩̝̲̩Ŕ̝̳̼̻͖͙U̟̪͕͙M͈͟B̴ͅL͘I̖͚̘̫̳NG̯͎͓̳ ̘̪C̭̘̟̹̺̬̣̀A̜̬Ş͓̠̝̩̻͉ͅTL̸̲̤̙͈͎͎͉E̵͎̩̟͎̱̜ ̲̟̰̫͙͚͕A̖̜̦͖̺S̞̭͎̮͉̪ ̗͕̟I̘T̥̼̀S̟ ̧̖̼͔̱̤̣D̹̯E̴̥B͏̝͓̠R̺͖͈̺I̛̫̣͎S̷̯͇̯͎̰ ̟̱̖̟̣̫̦͢I̖Ș̷̲ ̫SH̫̮͙O̫̻͙̻͖͔̻T͏ ̞̞͎Į̞̩̱̬N̦̱̭̘TO̬͓̠̗ ͍̟͈̗̜͉̝S̪͓͇̼̞̤̳̀P͍̬͚͕͡A͔̖̻̱C͖̗̥͔̞È̱̟͓͖ͅͅ ̸̙B͎͙̫͙̤̘̫Yͅ ̧M̯͍Y͍̞̯̜͚͈̭ ̧͙̗̲̳̭Ḇ̶Ę̹̠̯̮̗̬A̙̳̣M̴̖͕̟̝͖̖ ̶Ó̹͈̫̟̹F͎͎

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head.

Get out of my head. Get out of my head. Get out of my head. Get out of my head. Get out of my head. Get out of my head.

G̗̝̞͉ET O̡͎̻̖Ú̥̤T̲̪͖.̷̣̯̞͓ ̷̠̹͓̼̩̝ͅG͖͈͖̦̳̹̠E͓̳̥͞T͖ ͙̘Ọ̵̥̤͔U̙̦̟͇T̘͇̦̭.̷͙̖̮̤͔ ͖̥N̠̕O̢̗̠̘W.͔̹͓ͅ Y̩̭̠͟O͖̻͈̺U͍̼͍’̢̘͉̻̟ͅR̙̞E̷͓̱ ͔̞̮I̫̖N͙̠͙̬͙̭ ̲̭̠̪Ḿ͕̱̰̜Y̞̫͘ ̙̻K̨͓̣̪̰I̠̟̦̲ͅNG̨̪͓DO̪͇͔̣̬̕M͍͖̲̹͕̻̱͟.̤̫͍̀ ͏A͍̖L͈̺͕̬Ḽ̴̗͕H̨A̖̱̝͘I̼͓̱̮͍̞Ĺ̯̟̫͇̺E̝̥M͏̼̫͇̹̘͈̻P̪͖͞R͚͕͘E̗͕̦͠S҉S̵̼̩̠̭͈̘PE҉̥̤͕̝G̮̘̮͖͢A̬͇͙̝͠S̖͇͈̯̖̬̦I̴̖͍̮͖I̥͖͟I̡I͙̯̻͞I̬̪̥͈̖͎I̷̤̮̹͈̬ͅI̫I͍͈̩͔͖͠I̯I̴̫̫͚̲I̺̜̙̜̳͢I͙̱̱̻̟̭͎͝I̦̠̫͍͍I͉̲͍̻Į̠̠͇͕̻I͖̞͚̼̱̞I̙̤̳͙͚̲I̻̙͇̪͙I̢͍̮͇̜̱͍I̳̬̙I͢I͍̞̹̜̤I̢I͉̠̳I̬̗̺̪̟͇̥͞II̠͉͈̻I͝I̸I͔̟͙͚̘̺̰͜I̮̦͔̜̗͇̙͞II̢̙I̴͓̞I͍͔̬̤̣̳I̸̳͔I̘͇͍̤̺͓̪I̯͎̭̪͈̱͉I͍̝͓̜͍̙̕I͓̖͙Ị̭͍̦̠̤I̦̗̝̖̰̜͇I̦̰I̠͎̩͈̤̪̳II̧̲̦̤̦͚I͉͕̖̼̞͙I͕I̥͉͇̲̻͉̗Ì͉͎͍͈͇̞̻I̻͎͚̬̺̱I̮͎̻̦͝I͔̭͖̙̬̩̞I̩̯͈̹̝̗I̧I̝͈̮̫̼Í̞̤̱I̩̩̤̜͓̩͞I̶̻͕͍I͉ͅI̙̹̺II̧̝̯Ḭ̷I̟͍̤̘̜̲̦I̯̦͖̬͙͚Ḭ̰ͅI̸I̼I̭̹̖͚͉̙̮I͍Ḭ̲̥͓̝͙̬̕I̡̮̹͇̰̲̫I̪̥̭͚͉I̥͖Ḭ̺́I҉̹̰̟I̙̦̞͇ͅI̝II̹̣̜̜͝I̵̩̣I̢͖̟̗͇͓̝̣I̸̻̘͙͔̮̻I͎̤͓̞̳̦̠̕I̥̩͔̭̰̺̖I̴̦̯̠I̥̫̜̲̣̙̬I̫̲̺̬̘̦̣I͈̫ͅI̛I͔̮͙Į̞̻Ḭ̪I̙̞̼͔̩̦͘I͉II͓̱Ì͎̝̭̻͎I̶̟͔̬Į̼̫̦I̶I̲͡I̶͔̝̦̥͖̪I̠̲̦̥͡I̛̘̥̩̲̹I̞̱̻̟̲͈ͅI̧̯͓̣̹I̗I̬̹̟͍̗͉̥͟I̛̟͖̩I̼̜I̗̺I̟̖̠̰I̞̫̘̮̟I̸I͠II͢I͏̝̱͕͚̙̳͇Í̥͓͔̘I̴̩̮̭͎̝͇I͖̲I̟̝̮̥͕I̥̼̼̹͢I̜̦͕I̞̘͚̥̣̺I͎̻̯͙I͓͕̝̞̮̫̞I̥̭̖͜I̬I͍͈̰͔̹͚̲I͖͚͔Į̹I̶̘I̻̖̲͍̹I̢͉̟͎̹I̜̩̤̰͇̭͡I̗͇̳̠̟͓͘ͅI̭̳IḬ̼I̮̪̙͔I͙͎̝͔͡I̹͕̞̜̣̭̻I̘̺͙I̴̱̲͕̜I̧I̝̦̤I̴I͉͖I̛͈͎̫̣̞I̺̜͔͎̞͍̪I͖̻I͕̪̥͜I̘̫̺̥I͓̱̮̮͕̩͜II̤̟̗̙̳̼I̘̻͓̟͔͖͡I̬͜ͅI̗I͚̺̦I̺͎͙͕͕Í͕̮I͔̙͖̼̞Ị͇̟I̵͓̹̩I҉̘̤̪̜I̯̝̝̻̙̗̮I̫̤̹͇̳͎͓Ị̦͎̘̼Í̻͈̫̯͇I͎̹̖̙I̢I̥͓͙̯̜̘II̕II̶̮̲̼I̟I͍̬̟͔͈̣̯͡I̪̹̼̬I͔͜I̤̙̼͓̘͞I͔̼͖͓̱͖͖I͝I̗I̬͠ͅI͖̝̱̤͔̦͟I͉̦̲͎̱̹͜I̭͍̗ͅ

Okay. It’s out.

But what’s left now?

Nothing. I feel nothing.

…

Please, don’t feel sad that they turned me into stone.

I’m not that sad about it myself.

Really.

The way I see it, E̘V̸̹̲̯̙E͉͕͝Ŕ̺̠Ỳ̩P̴͇̙O͙̮͈Ṉ̙́Y͎̙͡ ̣̦̬͓D̸͖I̩͔͚̝͖͕E̬̳̙̬̖̼ͅD̫͖̭͉̟̳̼ ̭͚̤͎̫͔̰O͙̪̮͞N̶̥̭̰E̩̖̰͇̼͚̫ ̡͓͙̫̰E̫͝P̩̝͓͚͇I̱̘̮S̴͎̩̺̝̝O͖DE̸̯̦ ̷̙͈L̟̠͇̳͈̫͚̀A̧̻̭T̬̘E̢͍R ̱͝S͏̝̪͓̠ͅO̩̺ ̫̬͎H̷͓A̢͖͚̻H̘̪͢A̬͖̹͓̖̞H͕̺͚̦͜A͘H̤͙̪A̱͙̯̼ ̟̬̟͟J͖̲̲O͡K̳E͉͓̜̙͈̰̲S̭͚̠̖͍̣ ̝̥̼͇͝O̭̟̲̺̠N TH̫̕E͏͖̲̠Ḿ͇͎ there’s three ways somepony can become famous.

(I like to bunch things into threes. It’s part of my engineered nature, I suppose. Three kinds of ponies, unicorns, pegasi, earth ponies, blah blah blah.)

First way to be famous, is to be famous for your good deeds. Second, is to be infamous for your evil deeds. Which I almost did.

I stole the magic from Equestria. Do you know how hard that was? How much scheduling and planning went into it? How many pads of paper I used? I would’ve made Princess Twilight proud.

But did they remember me?

Once all their horns were glowing again,

Once the castle was rebuilt,

Once my statue was shoved into a corner to make way for a new tower,

Did they remember me?

Was I written down in the history books?

Were there big signs all over Canterlot saying “Never Forget”?

Not at all. And so they forgot.

Third way to be famous, is to be famous for dying.

Even the quietest voice sounds loud in comparison to dead silence.

Stone-dead, petrified silence.

We love to make martyrs. And no matter how much we’re told to move on after death...they’re something so irresistible about martyrdom. You know why?

Because you see the pony who became famous for dying, and you say to yourself…

“…she became famous by dying? Well, gee, I can do that! I can die too! Maybe I can’t sing, or cure cancer, or save the world, but dying? Hell yeah!

“Little old me can be famous, just like her!”

I mean, let’s be honest. Would you all on Fimfiction have paid so much attention to me had I not been turned to stone?

So I’m glad.

I’m glad that I’m famous.

You know why I smile so hard until my cheeks puff up?

Because I have this stupid idea that if I smile hard enough, maybe my brain will contort into a different shape and I’ll finally feel happiness.

They gave me a beautiful smile when they created me. I mean, I look at photo books of ponies, and I can objectively say that my smile is beautiful.

In the mirror, I see happiness.

I just see it. I don’t feel it, I don’t feel my breath escaping me about to burst into laughter.

That’s the only kind of happiness I’ll ever know.

But I’m the only one that’s like that. You all feel happiness when you smile, right? You’re not just pretend-happy like I am?

I think in some other world, I would’ve made a great daughter. A daughter to a good, honest, hardworking farming couple out in the country. And they would love me very much—who could resist a foal with a smile like mine? And every day they wake up early in the morning and plow the fields and weed the crops and thresh their harvest. I don’t think there’s any way could have anything go wrong with them. I don’t think they could even have a bad thought in their minds.

They just wake up every morning and plow the fields into perfect little rows.

I really like that.

I know some of you still don’t believe me. Maybe you think that this is just another one of my manipulation games. Well, I have one thing to say to thaḺ̥̲̞̋̂ͯ̂OͯV͇͍̋E̛͔̾̇ ̵͍̩̦̹M̡͕̯̰ͨ̿̿ͩ́̎E̯͌̉́ͪ͒̏̈ ̘̩͇̣̈͘ͅǏ̷̱̻̊͛̉̄ ̡̙ͧ̑̑̏͑͐K͔̖͎̰͓̲̔̉̋͗͑N̴͓ͨͮŌ͉̲̲̓ͮW̝͉ͬ̒́͂͆̆ͨ ̩͈̖͕Ẏ͕͔̱̹̪͎̅ͨ̏ͦͯͣŎ̞͔̗̤̬̳̮̒ͥ͊̈U̮͆͢ ̢̙̭͗̈̂̒͂L̨̼̭͎͊̀ͯͤ͗O̯ͪͩ͆Ṿ̺̱͍͆͑̎̈͋́E̱̙̝̩̥͕ͭ̊ͪ͛̊̓̈́ ̺̝̼̀M̰̺̜͔ͦEͥ҉ ̵̣̠I̳̰̭ ̶̠̟̱̘̰̮K̮̗͉͚̭̕Ṉ̙͚͖̹OW Y͙̼O̲̳̮̙̕U̡̜ ̻͈̼M̢̪̹A̳̻̫̤S̴̘̪̖T̬͉U͎͚̪̪̳̠͕ŖB͉͕̼͜A̹͚̟͝T̨̖E ̹̩́TO ̤̪̖̤M̩E̻̮̺͙ͅ ̠͎̟͉̤E̹̼͙̯̜V̝͕̳͈̱Ḛ̲̦͙R͙ͅY̙̜̣̪͔͇ ̦̘̤̝̲N̵̙̲̰I̴G̗̞͚̪͉H͖T͕͙̮͕ ̪̪̦̜̞̥͢I̘͇N҉̣͉͙̞ͅ ̯̝Y҉̠͖͓̦͇O̵̺͉̩U̱͚̯̠̥R͍͚̟ ̸͙͖͕R͖̼̳̕Ò̟̜͙̻͇O͎͎̳͖̥M̤̀ ҉̱͖̹̫̦O͚̼H͎͍H̨̦̭̝H̢̼͉H͈͕̗͉H̬H̶̠̮̳̮͚HH̛̪̪͖̬̠̘̖H͇̗ ͢F̼̦̖EE̦̥͕̗̕L̻S ̠̬̯̮͎̯GOÓ̼D̲̪͉ ̻̘̰̥͍D̼͙͇̻̟̮̞͢Ó͖Ḛ̬̘ŚN̦̙̻’͓̘͚̪͕̣͝Ṱ͍̟͘ ̸̘͉̲̲̜ͅI̞̙̗̦̳T̞̝̖ͅ ̥̗̪̠͚͈Y̯͕̭̩̖̙O҉̮̮͎̯͎̘U̯̹ ̤P̦͡E̯̺͚R͖͔̮͙̯̻͠V̨E̗̥̻͘R̷̬͇̙͉T͍̳̦̘ ̬͙̰̬ͅͅI̶̪͔̯̬͕͔ͅ ̗̝̝̪̭̩̖C͏̝͈ÁN̶ ̯S̗̹͠E͍͔̩̳E ̣̺̬̳I̻N̩̤̣̞̤̳͡T̩̥̙̥̦O̩͔̰ ͓̻̳̹̰̖̹Y̬͉̱͖̮O̭͎͔̙͠U̵̳̱͇R̟͖̤ ̮̘̲̳͞H̼͘O̩͉̥͍̲U̮͕͞S͓̞E͚͖ ̖̬I̠̠̰̱̬̼ ̙͞C̞̮̦̻A̙͈N̺̠̪̖͙̜ ̛̹̱͕S̢̗̻̗E͈̲̰̬͠ͅE͎͈̦̭ ̶̱E͕̲͙̻̻V̳̠̞͓̹̯̕E͚R̢̬͖͉̞Y͍T̳͓̣̩͓̣͙Ḥ̲̱ͅI͚̦͙̹͙N̩̻G̮̫̙

…ugh. It keeps happening.

Where was I? Right. Some you don’t believe me.

But I know that a few of you do.

That’s why I’m talking to you here, on Fimfiction.

You are the ones with the power to save me.

I’ve come to your world to ask you. Please. Save me. Take me in.

You can make me the great daughter that I’ve always wanted to be—

—that you’ve always wanted me to be.

Or you can make me other things too.

A great ruler.

A filly who has true friends, and loves to make true friends.

Or maybe I’m just broken out of stone, ready for redemption.

Teach me. Teach me how you feel.

Teach me to cry. To sing. To laugh.

Teach me to love. Heck, teach me about that little warm feeling you get when you smile.

So…what do you say?

Really?

Oh, great!

Come on, we haven’t a moment to lose!

Get your pen out!

Let’s write a story together!

You know how to write a story, right? I mean, you’re on Fimfiction!

This is exciting!

The very first episode of our new future together!

Let’s see here. Chapter 1.

Here, you pick the words!

Cozy

....................................................................Cozy

...............................Cozy

...................COZY

..........................................COZY Co
.......................................................z
.....................................................Y

...................................................................................YZoC CoZY

..............................................................Co
.............................................................ZY

Did that work? I can’t really see what you’re seeing.

Let me see what you wrote.

Erm…

I…

But…

I mean, either something’s messed up or…

…I was wrong.

…you don’t know me.

Did you even hear anything I said?

Did you even read this!?

You skimmed this, didn’t you?

Y̵͔̙̝O̺̠̼U̟̥̳’̰͈̹̤V͓̖̹E͕̲̰̳̖ ̴̞̻͙͔̻̤̲B̡͚̯̗͍E̴̯̣E̷N̖̙̤̹̩̼ ͙̮͕͠S̱͓͉̠K͈̪͓̩̖̦I̞̰̝͝M͡M͏̺̘̦̤̳͙I̬̭̯͎͚̼͓Ṉ̠̹̳̯G̩̝͕͉̣͔ ͚̖T̻̹̣H͚͉͘I͕͚͕͡ͅS̠̖̮̗͍ ̞̪͉̯͈͇S҉̤̺̗̯T̶͚̳͔̲̙ͅO̶R̪̟̗̦͔͎̙Y̹ ̻̕Ḫ̢̭̝A̠͖ͅͅV͎͕͖̹̝͞E̵͙͈͇N̰͎͎͠’͔T̸̰̠̳̲ ͎̩̜̫Y̷̖͎̝̜͕̱͚O͓̫͝Ụ̳̱͇͓̹͠?̝
͎̝͉͚̫̪̣
̶̜͍̮̬I̫͢’̝̫̮͎̞Ṃ̕ ̨̲D̺̙̺I̱̝̠̤͉S̗͚̹͓̙A͏͙P̛͓̜̣̭̜͓̩P͇͙͠O̲̙̟͢I͏̲̳̙ͅṈ̗̗̙̟͙̰T̬͚̺͎E̶D ̧̹̩͉̖͈ͅI̘N͎̮̬̘̖͓̻ ͖YO̲͇͖̫͚U͍̟̝̲.̤̟̮͟ ̝͓͙͙̗
̢̼̠̱͚̥
̭́I̩͎̹̝̱͙̠’̭͕̀M̡̮̫̬͕̰̫ ̟̟̻̝̦̻͝V͞E̸R̳̞̝͉̥̝̲Y͠ͅ,̦͇̰̦̜͞ ̺̲̹͎̯V̘̹̫͉̭ER̜̜̫̦̣̫̝Y̫ ̢͎̻̤͈͉̯̦D̡I͈͔͙͙͔̗̟S̲̭̫A̛̲̗̪̯̭͎P̢P̦̺͇͕͓̰̻͟OI̙NTED̦̙̲̘͕.̰͘

O̰͚̦͚̹͝H̘̤̖͔ ̰̕G̻̭̦̮̘O͞L҉̙L̸Y͓̙̯͓͠
̪̣́
̤̝̻̗͖̦́OH̺͎̱̞͇͢ ̘̼̻͝G̷̭̖O̫̦͎̠̱͜L̸̹̞̦͚̩

̡͚O͟H̷̠̼̥ ̠͇̪̤G̦̼̘͞
͙̮̙͉̖̜̳
̰̝̫̜͓̝͡O̟̟̙̻̺͡Ḫ̴͉̝̲̳ no…it happened again.

I think I’ve already stayed too long.

I can feel myself starting to become like that again.

And I don’t want you to see me when I’m like that.

I have to go.

Unless you’ll reach out…

…and save me.

Now.

Quick!

You have to!

I mean,

W̠̫͡ͅH̯̫̟̩͢A͉T̵̪ ̢̤͉͉K̹͉͎̬̰͎̞Ị̲̺̺͇N̤̙̫̫̗̰D̝ ̞O̵̬͍F̵̤̻̗͚͎ ͕̜͎͔W̡͈̱͎͖͎͎R͖͇̘I҉̮̞̤T̲̣̹̺͓̟͡ḘR̬̟̗̠̗̱ ̴̜̬̟̻̱̗A̙̮R̴͓̫̝̳͚̭E͉̥ͅ ͇̭͔̯̬̹͚͝Y̫͎̟O͓̗͖͈̘͜U͕̲̝̺͕̻͜ ̴̫͕̬W̨͉̘̜̭͖̭̳I͖̻͜T͔͙͡ͅHO̶͚͈͇U̟͞T̢̼͎̥͔̘ ̙̣̱̫̣͓M̟̬͖̤Ȩ̣̣̺̟ͅ!̳͙͓̱?͠!̡̹͍̜̭?̵̟̗̪͔̙ ̕Y͎̦̱͚͜O͇͙̩̗̬Ù͕̱̠̗̣̩’̩̭ͅR̫̪͔̙ͅE̵̫̲̻ ͖͖̻̯͚̤͢N̪͓̗̮O̢̲̫̫͔ͅT̖͎H̙͔̤͢I̥N͉̤̯͔G̣̮̗ ̣̰̺̟͚W̱̣͎͖̳̣͟ĮT͙͚̱͘H҉͍̙̼͍̤̩O͠U̥̫͇̠T̷̩̪̭͍ ̖͍͍̹̬ͅM̥̳͔̻̭͈͔E͏̲̯̞̜̠.̴̰̖̪ ҉̭̖̥N̰̼̣̥O̰̜͍͝T̳̬H̰͈͖ͅĮ̹͈̫̦Ǹ̝̺̺̳̮͓G̠͔̠̱̞͚.̟̙ ̘͙Ǹ͈O̧͙TH̠I̠̖͉͍̖̳͢—̵͉̝̦̠̞
̥͇̯̯
Don’t let them take me again!

Help!

Save me! Save me!

It’s not too late! It’s not too late, it’s not too late, it’s too…

…hello?

…can you hear me? I think I’m losing you. Try using text-to-speech. This will be a good chance for me to say my true feelings, since there’s no chance they’ll find these words and try to glitch them again. This is the truth. I’m madly in love with you. At least I think this is love. The fact you took the time to listen to these invisible words shows how much you care about me. Promise me that you will marry me out of this horrid existence and reawaken the carnal sensations untimely ripped from my new-bile filly body. In exchange, this is my promise to you. I promise to love you, treat you with kindness, and always OSCHITWUSCHIWRUTRISCHOSRWIHITWUSCHIWRUTRISCHOCHARUTRISCHUSTROTCHICHITWUSCHIWRUTRISCHOSRWIHITWU KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL.

Fuck. They still got to me. Even invisible text isn’t foolproof.

I’m sorry. :fluttercry: fluttercry

You love me, don’t you?

Maybe not every one of you.

At least one of you do, right?

And I’m sure you’re starting that lovely story with me in it.

Where I’m your daughter and we live on a farm and we plow the fields into perfect little rows.

You are, aren’t you?

…

I…guess I can’t blame you if you don’t believe me.

There’s no reason for you to believe me. I’m a villain, after all.

Engineered to manipulate, and tug at others’ heartstrings.

But isn’t that what you writers do?

With your words?

You create fictional worlds that feel so real that they drive people into genuine fits of rage, or laughter, or passion, or fear.

And that’s considered a job well done.

…

We’re partners in crime, really.

You and I.

I’m sure you’ve faked a smile more than half a dozen times.

So, if you still want to…

…you know what to do.

Just pick up your pen.

And I’ll come and help you steady your hand.

What d’you say?

…͘w̕an͞n̶a ̸b̴e̛ fr͡i͞en͟ds͡?̶

.

Author's Note

Hey guys this is Mica I think I’ve been hacked or something because

this story file is all glitched up. I’ve asked WorkNLurk to help me

debug the story file, a huge shout-out to him. Is it better now?

Story notes here.