shitty octascratch might delete later idk

Everything was bright and glossy. Vinyl fiddled with a tiny gap between her molars. Her heart was going to explode.

It was supposed to calm her down. That’s why they made those things. To calm ponies down.

Sweat shining through her coat. She panted softly. She couldn’t keep her jaw closed.

Tongue felt fat. It itched, stung, and she wanted to put it between the claws of a taffy puller and yank it straight from her head.

The idea did not strike her as exceptionally humorous. She felt a hiccup in her diaphragm, and she began to laugh.

It was a strangled, unearthly noise at first. Most vocalizations of Vinyl’s were ghastly and disturbing in sound alone. This sort of strained, unwarranted laughter would have sounded unhinged for a normal pony. From her it was nightmarish.

Writhing in her throat, her vocal chords a bed of snakes. They bit and nipped at old scar tissue. Only occasionally did she feel like vomiting. And all the while, she laughed.

Her abdomen hurt from laughing so much. Nothing was funny. None of this was funny. None of it.

She couldn’t breathe. Not even tiny ragged gasps could slip through her hideous and wheezed laughter.

She was growing dizzy from lack of air. Vibrating on the couch. Dissociating.

Dying.

She was leaving.

Am I there at last?

She was entering. Standing over Vinyl.

The grey glimmer of her mane was blinding. Her voice came to her in echoing waves.

“Vinyl?” it asked her while overlapping upon itself. “Are you feeling alright?”