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>W-why wont you smile, Anon...
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>W-why wont you smile, Anon...
>No, not that fake smile... I know happy, and you're faking it!
>All my parties
>Hot coco at Sugar Cube after closing
>Nothing I do changes it
>That smile is fake
>... Why cant I make you happy
Because you're annoying.
Because I finally met my life goal of cummimg inside rainbow dash.
Everything in my life built up to that moment.
The plushes
The fabrics
The immense amount of time spent on /mlp/
And now that it finally happened, nothing can ever truly amount to that.
I think I might just call it good at that, pink horse.
I literally can't think of a single thing worth pursuing that will mean as much to me.
And thank you for trying so hard to light up my life.

Because you're literally the worst horse.
I hate parties and hot chocolate, I'd rather stay in with a small group of friends sitting by a fire and eating soup or stew on a cold winter night while watching a movie or playing a board game the captcha was soup
Because I'm not real.
Right in the feels
>Really? No... you really think that candys and that shitty collaborations what you call "party" with tons of ponies, what actually dont give a single fuck about me would make me happy?
>you try to smile for her again, but it falters in the face of her tears
>smiling was never really your thing
>and even when you did the physical action of flexing the necessary muscles to form one, it had never been the real thing
>it’s kind of funny- you learned how to smile because that was what was expected of you back in the real world
>people got upset with you if you didn’t smile for them
>if you didn’t debase yourself and grovel in the proper way while serving them
>if you didn’t wear the mask of happiness so as to not cause a ripple in the bubbles they all built for themselves
>they didn’t give a damn that your smile was wooden and fake as could be, you had just better display it to them, or they would take it up with your manager
>you had to be the smiling statue of Buddha for them, or they would do everything in their power to make your life hell
>And then you ended up here, and for a while it was wonderful… but it turns out, smiles are just as necessary here, and not smiling was near as much a faux pas as it had been before
>you had no manager to threaten to fire you, at least, but a lack of smile painted you as a kind of leper in this world.
>it was actually worse
>so you smiled whenever you could muster the energy and tried to get on with your life in the colourful world of talking horses
>after the new-world-smell had worn out, it was just as bad as the 11-7 shift at McPuke’s
>suicide had been looking as good as ever
>though you tried it once and it just deposited you here instead of whatever calm darkness you had been hoping for
>no telling what a second go would do
>there was always that one horse that gave you funny looks, though
>the pink one. She was fluffy.
>not when she caught you without the smile, but rather when you wore it
>a flash of the ol’ ‘Fries with that?’ smile drew a reaction out of her like your nose had just sprouted wings
>she liked you, at least. She was always around town, doing this and that, and everytime she saw you she’d bounce over and deposit a sugar-laced confection into your hand
>she might ask about your day, or comment on the weather, or try to weedle out something about your hobbies or what you liked to do in your free time
>you always smiled and thanked her politely for the diabetes
>you answered her questions as best you could, too
>that was really all you could do
>small talk was not a strong suit either
>eventually the awkward silence emanating from you would get through the fluff on her head and her smile would start to falter
>”O-okay then. I’ll see you tomorrow!”
>and she’d redouble her smile’s effort and beam it straight into your face
>stimulus, response- the ‘ol burgerflipper smile slipped onto your face like it always did, genuine as the food you used to prepare
>her smile would falter again and some colour seemed to drain from her eyes before she would wander away, much less fluffy and bouncy than she had been at the start.
>There were a lot of exchanges like that with her over the past couple of months
>results were always the same
>you gave consideration to informing her of the definition of insanity, but had decided it might be unkind, given the rude things that were sometimes whispered about her
>she wasn’t crazy-crazy, just a bit loopy
>you did kind of like her
>at least she gave a damn about you
>a few parties, some attempts at encouraging the hobbies you had told her about
>that had left you feeling quite a bit worse, since a fair number of the interests you had told her were complete falsehoods
>you have no idea what on earth suggested you tell her that you liked sports
>she arranged a hoofball match for you
>you got to be their equivalent of ‘quarterback’
>you didn’t even like football
>by the end of the day, not only did you come to hate football and it’s hooved equivalent, but also was fairly certain a heart attack was on the way and you had at least three broken ribs
>you kept the brave face on, though
>and of course, the smile.
>Today though, she had startled you with the tears
>The random meeting had started just the same as it always had- bounce, fluff, cupcake, smile, which was met with the instant smile-response, and then…
>then waterworks
>”W-why won’t you smile, Anon…?”
Please sir.
I want some moar
>you are confused
“I am smiling.”
>”That’s not a smile!”
>your ankles were getting wet from the forming puddle of tears
“Y-yes it is?”
>she was insistent, “No it’s not! I can tell a real smile from a mile away, a-and…”
>she sniffles. The sound made your heart hurt.
>”You aren’t smiling when I see you! The corners of your mouth go up and all that, but your eyes don’t change. You aren’t happy to see me, you’re just, just…”
>her mane was deflating like a balloon
>what the hell even is ponies.
“Pinkie, look, I don’t… I’m not ‘normal’, alright?”
>how the hell does one even explain ‘blunted affect’ to a horse?
>she’s clinging tight to your hand. Quite possibly you are making a scene right now, but it’s hard to care. It’s always been hard to care.
>”Don’t say that! You’re not weird!”
“Yes I am, Pinkie. Look- I guess… Look. I’m like a broken toy.”
>sogginess intensifies
>quite possibly that was the worst way to put it to this particular horse
>”You’re not broken!” she pleads, “I see you around all the time! You do nice stuff for ponies, you work hard and be polite and everything!”
>nice stuff?
“Nice stuff?”
>She nods vigorously, a bit of happy creeping back into her. She wipes one eye with the back of a pink hoof
>”You helped the Cakes move that couch!”
“Well, he asked.”
>”And you are the employee of the month at Hayburger!”
>”And-and…” her lower lip wibbles
>it even made the humourous sound effect
>you had never been called upon to comfort a horse before
>never been called upon to comfort anyone, come to that
>you assay a pat on her fluffy head. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, but it did just feel like messy hair. Given the amount of water that had come out of her eyes a moment ago, you might have been expecting sponge, or something like a hot water bottle.
>it doesn’t seem to have much effect
“Pinkie, what I mean is, there is a little thing in my head that doesn’t work quite right. Some wires just aren’t connected properly.”
>she listens
>the drowning threat seems to be diminishing
>”But you aren’t a t-toy, silly.”
>she is trying to keep up a brave face, trying to bring out her smile again
>in the back of your head, some slug-like thought stirs and instills a vague sense of envy in you- why could you never be that genuine?
>here she is, a mess of tears and soggy fluff, distressed like you’ve never seen her before, and she can still smile in a way that glows like a candle in the dark
>yes, even through the puffy eyes and slightly snotty nose
>you offer her a tissue from your pocket
>despite all expectations, her nose does not go honk when she blows it
“It’s just a metaphor. Think… wind-up toy. When everything is done right, it’ll move around and play a tune when it is wound up. Sometimes though, a piece is put in wrong. It still works and moves around when you wind it up, but the music doesn’t play.”
>you shrug one shoulder, your discomfort getting noticeable now
“I don’t really… feel happy. I can’t. Never have.”
Running out of steam here. This is about as far as I've experienced in my own life as an emotionless, fake-smile wearing husk.
Pinkie waits for a response, but he never answers. She sobs uncontrollably now, and the turnip bucket sits there expressionless and indifferent to Pinkie's tears.
Pardon my interruption, but isn't blunted affect usually a symptom, and not by itself a disorder?
Nice green so far either way but that's nagging at me.
I did intend to put schizoid there, but it is pretty much a meme condition on this site and I wanted to avoid using the word.

That is my excuse and I am sticking to it.
Ah, I guess I can see your reasoning. By all means, keep at it then.
Because your jokes are shit.
>wibbling intensifies
>you feel the need to invest in rubber boots
>she’s hugging you now
>quick as she was capable, Pinkie was standing and had her hooves around your middle, squeezing you tight in a hug that no doubt was intended to fill you with warmth and cheer and the knowledge that someone did indeed care for your wellbeing
>it just made you want to get a dry shirt
>uncertainly, you gave her head another gentle pat
>she turns her face up to yours, blue eyes bright and wide with hope, searching your eyes
>you can tell by the way the expression fades that she sees what you’ve always felt
>at least you gave her the honesty of not trying to wear the mask, though the instinct was so ingrained that you could feel the muscles flexing of their own accord in response to the stimuli
>it took actual effort to quell it
>slowly, she lets you go and settles back onto her haunches
>the waterworks seems to have run out of juice at least
>”Why do you smile all the time, then?” she asks, trying her best to wipe the remnants of tears from her cheeks
>a deep breath
“If you don’t smile, they think you hate them.
“I don’t hate them, but that is what they’ll think. And then they get angry because they are only getting messages from their own head, not from anything I did.”
>you shrug a shoulder
“Then they complain. To me. To my manager. To anyone who’ll listen. Then the rumours start, and it all comes around back to me in the form of reprimands or dirty looks or rudeness… all because I really can’t be bothered to wiggle my lips in a pleasing fashion.”
>there is a bit of venom in your tone, you can tell. Even a husk like you can feel bitterness
“So,” you shrug again. What else was there to do? “I learned to smile. People smile back, most of the time just as fake as mine, and we all get along. We keep lying about our happiness, and that keeps the ripples to a minimum. Show one shred of honesty, and the shitstorm, she comes.”
>it felt kind of good to describe it for once.
>you look down to the pink pony of happiness
>she’s just pink now, really; there doesn’t seem to be much happiness left in her. If anything, she looks dazed, like her entire world just got dug up and rotated a few times, shaken around a bit, then deposited back upside down and on fire
>reality is a harsh bitch
>pity you had to bring it to this place
>that was a strange feeling
>you actually felt pity for this little horse
>here she was, doing her best to try and cheer you up, and you had to drop a nice big dollop of reality onto her
>kind of a dick move, Anon.
>you stand there for a bit, discomfort rising. Pinkie just sort of sits in front of you, her fluffy mane hanging limp, staring into the middle distance like a soldier back from the line
>since her eyes had to be pointing in some direction, she was staring at your thigh and had the neutral expression of someone who might just be deep in thought, or who is deciding if she should lunge and bite
>you grind your teeth a little, a nervous tic picked up over the ages
>it really was kind of vicious to lay it out like that for her
“Hey, Pinkie?”
>she blinks, but that is about all the response you get
>you squat down so you are at eye level. You touch a knuckle under her chin, pushing it up just a bit for her eyes to meet yours
You're going to break pink pone. She can't handle this. but a fake pitty hug won't help
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>the old mask goes to your face easily, like a well-worn glove- a smile creases your features in all the right ways, though never really touches your eyes
“Hey, Pinkie?” you say again, “How about you and me go and get some ice cream?”
>your voice isn’t the cold monotone it had been, but rather a bit more playful and warm- after all, your friend was feeling down, and it was a friend’s duty to cheer them up, right?
>Something clicks behind the big, blue eyes, like the latch of a door being shut. SLowly at first, colour starts to come back into her expression
>”C-can I have rocky road?”
>your smiles broadens to show your teeth. You are the very picture of warmth and kindness. You had a fair bit of practice at this
“Triple-scoop, extra fudge.”
>the happy giggle boils up from somewhere in Pinkie’s belly, and her mane puffs up again, though maybe just a bit slower than what it might have
>”Ooh, oh! With sprinkles! I just love sprinkles!”
>she’s bouncing now. What signs of her distress had shown fade away quickly- the tears are gone and the smile is back, bright and beautiful as it always had been.
>you feel a bit guilty, though. even as you two joke and laugh over bowls of ice cream big as your head, you can see the little shadow at the back of her eyes
>the mask never really covers everything, but you have to know where to look.

I enjoyed this. Thank you for your time and effort.
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>never covered everything, you just have to know where to look
Thanks for reading. It felt really strange to just up and write all of a sudden, and even more strange to finish something.

I guess it's a good feeling? I wouldn't know.

Thanks for the prompt, OP. I'm off to bed.
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She 'really' wants to make you happy. As seen with Harshwhinny, she's kind of determined in that aspect. To see someone incapable of happiness would kinda make her feel useless in this situation. All she wants to do is help. Especially if she sees someone like Anon suffering like he has.

Nicely done, Anon. I think most of us who are compelled to produce subservient expressions on cue in the name of "customer service" at a soul-sucking job become drained and deadened by it. Suddenly being deposited into a world of genuine emotion would be very difficult to adjust to.
Same, desu-senpai, thanks for the good green.
that ending got me
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IExlTPuItLw Relevant, and depressingly accurate.
"I'm like Maud, alright? I'm not good at facial expressions."
>"Oh, okay."
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Some people just can't be happy Pinkie. Try as we might to fight it and no matter what we choose to fill the cracks with, we're just... broken. I'm sorry it bothers you that you can't /fix/ me but just know you weren't the first and you won't be the last. If you have to run away that's fine sometimes it's best to leave the dead weight to sink in the mud. You're a nice mare Pinkie, don't let me change that...
Because you keep raping me, you psycho!
But, anon, you said you like rape. I read your posts
Because you always invite that damn zigger Zecora. Always with her rhyming and jiving. Breathing all the equestrian air meant for PURE BLOODED EQUESTRIANS, and 1 human.
Just give me hugs you dummy.
just imagine how many dicks fit in her mouth
Especially if all she can do is torment you, and she comes to realize it.
Because I'm dead on the inside, Pinkie. We all are; everyone on this board.
So do it again ya fat fuck.
My life makes sense again. Thank you, Anon. Thank you.
Because I lost everyone I love and that pain won't heal so quickly
>Stare at the broken pink pony, not sure what to say to her.
>Motion for her to follow you inside.
>She sniffles and nods, walking behind you with her usual bounce to her step.
>You ruffled through a drawer by your bed and took out a cell phone.
>It was off.
>She started to ask what it was but you shh-ed her and powered it up.
>After the small device was done booting and complaining about no service, you took her to the gallery.
"My family."
>You swiped through pictures.
>Slowly, enough so she could see.
>People, places, even some things that didn't make sense to her.
>But she quietly watched as you cycled through photo after photo.
>In every picture you're in, you're smiling.
>A real smile, not the one she was so used to seeing.
>You stop on a particular photo, you're holding a small child.
"My daughter. She'll be five soon."
>You close the gallery and point to a number on the top edge of the screen.
>It reads 17%
"When that number reaches 0, I lose them forever. I can only look a few moments every so often. I have to be careful. That is why I don't smile. Everything I love is in here."
>You turn the phone off, then put it in your dresser.
>You sigh deeply.
>Pinkie's smile is faltering and tears are forming in her eyes.
>But you hated the expression of sadness.
>your mouth is stuttering trying to find the right words to say.
>Pinkie looks up at you teary eyed
"The truth is..."
>You hang your head low so she doesn't see your face.
"I feel empty inside. Just void of true emotions. I might feel happy for a minute after a good joke, or having a good time at a party but..."
>But what" Pinkie asks. "Chicken butt?"
>Your breathing gets funny for a moment
"I always feel like I'm going to disappear. And when I do...everyone will forget about me."
>Pinkie looks at you confusingly. "What do you mean disappear?"
>You don't want to tell her but she needs to know before it's too late.
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>and 1 human.
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I love you Anon.
We all love you.
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Because you're literally worst pony, go away.
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Because you aren't real.
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I'm genuinely glad I've only had one job in customer service.
I'll take making primers for ten hours straight over that any day.
>“Yes I am, Pinkie. Look- I guess… Look. I’m like a broken toy.”
>>sogginess intensifies
>>quite possibly that was the worst way to put it to this particular horse
i like this story
>"this unit does not understand the question mistress."
>"i have articulated my servos into the socially accepted facial expression every time my programming dictates that the given situation requires it."
>"Am i not good enough? I will reprogram myself for your pleasure. Or perhaps this body is not to your liking?."
>"i can change it if you wish. Protocol demands i please you and your friends."
>anon was human once.
> the machine improves much but leaves so little left
in some cases only damaging your own brain makes you not live alone anymore; they grow in number
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I didn't need to be reminded that those are a thing.
Thread replies: 60
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