Title:           StupidAnon Story 1
Author:          StupidAnon
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/rUGSvQZ4
First Edit:      Sunday 5th of October 2014 02:20:16 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Thursday 5th of February 2015 07:54:41 PM CDT

Part 1 | 4
Part 2 | 136
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Part 1
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>>19943199
So uh, I wrote something in that "You find a portal roll to see what you become" thread that died shortly after. Since it was pretty anonish, I thought I'd clean it up a bit and just post it here to continue from. So uh, enjoy I guess?
 
> You are currently upside-down, and falling.
> You have been so for an indeterminate amount of time.
> Folding your arms, you sigh and think.
> Or you try to; a voice intercedes.
 
> "My my. What an unfortunate night to pursue your vanity"
> You shift yourself as best you can to find the voice, yet no matter how hard you twist and struggle you can't seem to orient yourself within the void.
> No sooner you hang your head in defeat, a cold force presses against your chin, raising your gaze.
> A wide cheshirean smile cuts into the darkness, and two beady yellow eyes follow.
 
"Get off of me! Who—"
> You flail about, screaming and batting away whatever force held your chin.
> You are cut off by a sudden press against your entire body, spinning you back into the undefined darkness.
 
>"—Well! I never! Here I am, offering MY sympathies, to YOU, and first thing that you do is sling an interrogation at me?!"
> The voice drips with sarcasm.
 
> "Still, I suppose I should do something for you."
> Abruptly you stop turning.
> A large throne, chipped and broken from eternities sits center within a pillar of light.
> Upon the throne's frayed cushion is a messily coiled length of ribbon, topped by a blank oval dome.
> No, not a dome.
> Its a mask, perfectly featureless except for two thin slits through which the ends of the ribbon were drawn.
 
> "After all..."
> The mask begins to rise from the throne, twirling fervently as its ribbon wove in red a body behind it.
 
> "You are the first guest I've had in years."
 
 
> The mouth from before smiles on the porcelain surface, eyes opening.
> The ribbons finish twisting and weaving, leaving the mask attached to a four-legged body of some sort, with a looped cloth tail.
> You have to shake your head to wave away the anxiety growing in your gut.
> The mask's grin thins sinisterly as you form words to speak.
"I.. Look can you at least tell me who you are?!"
 
> "Hmmm? Well, in my honest opinion..."
> The cloth being stretches and slithers in the darkness, wrapping around to rest its mask on your shoulder.
> "Perhaps the question you should ask is who YOU are."
 
"What?"
> The ribbon creature floats back to its throne, sitting down, crossing its lower two legs.
> "Well, can you?"
 
"Of course I can... I—"
 
> "—Of course... You can't. As to be expected of someone like you."
> The thing reaches behind the throne, pulling out a slender needle of gold.
 
“What is that even supposed to mean? Who are you?!”
 
> The mask tilts its head to the side and emits a sigh.
> “I am just the one tasked to this bit of darkness between stages. and you, good sir, are a failure in need of a new wardrobe.”
 
> What?
> Your arms go limp.
> You're not useless, nor a failure.
> You take a deep breath to scream and yell at the thing, but your voice never comes as the golden rod is pressed against your lips.
 
> “Now now, be calm. I assure you I am a tailor of magnificent quality.”
> You push the rod away.
 
“Will you just tell me what going on!”
> This time the mask groans with annoyance, as the throne begins to circle your body.
 
> ”Very well, if it would give you solace. But I do hate being interrupted so let me do something about your outbursts first.”
> It taps your cheek with a single red strand of its ribbon, and your lips peel off into streams of red.
 
 
> “At some point in time you – my dear dear friend – decided to venture into the mirror that I call home.”
> Soft lace rubs against your arm, which bubble and drip away from your body like ink
 
> “Perhaps you were bored of your old world, or maybe you wanted to run away from the past. I've seen plenty of people come through here, enough to not judge anymore.”
> Drops of white and black run down your cheek as you cry, your vision blurring into darkness.
 
> “Anyways you can't just go from one play to another without dressing up for the part. And mostly the mirror handles such, weaving form to match the character of those in transit.”
> Soft fabric rubs against you, the creature on the throne breathing excitedly as it drains the color from your being.
 
> ”But sometimes. Sometimes people just aren't interesting enough to get through; Failures who have no redeeming qualities, for whom the magic of this place just can't seem to figure out.”
> The color drips away and coalesces atop the golden rod, leaving you an awareness floating in the emptiness
.
> “Leaving me with the job of going through your memories and giving you a costume to best reflect your... Shortcomings.”
 
> You are the keeper of the mirror.
> In front of you floats, without a body, one of the few guests you have ever had.
> You know everything about them, simply by a glance.
> You chitter happily, knowing just what kind of flesh to dress this dreary excuse of life.
 
> “In life you were a lie, wearing masks of smiles to hide your unfounded jealousy. You had every opportunity to live a full life, but instead you squandered it pining in the daydreams of others. You had so many chances find friends, yet were too far in self-pity to give such friendship to others. Yellow for envy, black for the thirst you left unquenched, and a second mouth for your deceit. Finally a hunger for the magic you never had within.”
-----
> Pain overcomes your being.
> Strand by strand you feel new flesh, knit and pieced together.
> From the tips of two stubby legs, stretching out through the muscles and tendons to the tips of your fingers.
> A blast of light overcomes you as the threads twist about to form your neck, and then your eyes.
> You gasp for air as soon as your mouth is formed, collapsing to a floor that suddenly is below you.
> You feel something heavy on your back, but your hands quickly grab your attention from that.
> They are small and pointed, cartoonishly deformed.
> “And done.. Now then, off you go. I tire.”
 
> The beam of light that was shining on the throne suddenly shifts to illuminate an elaborate mirror.
> You look at it incredulously, a chuckle finding its way out of your fried mind.
 
> “Eh hem... I said 'Off you go'”
> You turn around to the strange beast, still dizzy and unsure.
 
“I...”
> The ribbons of the creature shudder, as its mask leans in.
 
> ”You... You... Come on now, spit it out.”
 
> You look down at your hands and shake your head.
“I don't even know my name! I don't know anything! Please!”
> You look up at the mask, feeling a trickle of water down your cheeks.
 
> ”Ah, it'll come in time. Just get going”
> The body of ribbon leans back into its throne.
> You just keep looking at it, shaking as your fingers claw into the undefined floor.
 
> The ribbon tosses its arms up.
> ”Fine, fine! If another boon will get you to leave so be it!”
> It looks upwards with eyes closed, with a heave of its chest.
 
> “You were never anything than a blank and empty face. Anonymous in all things important before, Why not let that be your title?”
> The mask snaps its gaze back you.
>Before you can say anything, the body of ribbon explodes towards you, slamming you towards the mirror.
 
---
Part 2
---
> “5 bits say he still hasn't come up with one.”
> You are Bright-Bolt, and you used to be employee of the year.
> Now you are –by royal decree– the official census taker of the Vespermint settlement.
> The runt griffon waving five bits at you is your assistant    Feather Stone.
 
“I don't enjoy taking money from the needy.”
 
> ”What was that? I swear on my talons, you say that again you punk.”
> The griffon buffets you with a scruffy wing.
> You stumble and nearly lose your bite on your clipboard.
“Celestia, watch it there I almost lost my papers!”
 
> “And I almost lost my temper!”
> The cat-bird preens a bit with a sly smirk.
> Smug bastard.
 
“Fine, if you really are so desperate to give me your money. But hurry up, we're behind schedule”
> You shake your head as you break off from the main road and up to the door of House B2.
> The building is a plain plaster off-white, a copy of all the other houses in the area.
> You give the front door a firm double knock.
> A brown, black-maned earth pony answers the door and upon seeing who you are, stands aside for you to enter. 
 
> “Oh, Mister Bolt. Its that time again isn't it? Please come in and make yourself comfortable while I get the others.”
> He smiles and waits for you and Feather Stone to enter before closing the door behind you.
> “Just a moment.”
> With that he goes up stairs.
> Leaving you in the living area with a sneering griphon.
 
“What now?”
 
> Snickers commence.
> “Nothing, just having me a chuckle.”
> You groan.
> You already knew you were going to hate what was coming next.
> “Mister.”
> You scrunch your face as he draws out his vowels.
> “Bolt.”
> You wish cat skinning wasn't a criminal offense.
 
“For everything good and decent Feather Stone– ”
> You chop the air in front of you with a hoof, hoping to cut through some of the birdbrain's idiocy.
“– Will you stop calling me that. It's bad enough Stove-Top does.”
 
> “Sure thing, Boss.”
> He circles the pastel rug in the middle of the room twice before setting himself down.
> You roll your eyes as you take a seat in the plaid covered couch in the rooms corner.
> Most of the furniture in this settlement was donated.
> You are pretty sure the couch and rug was donated more out of spite and hatred for life rather than any feelings of charity.
 
> “Sorry for taking so long.”
>  Stove-Top trots down the stairs, a motley band following behind him, numbering five bodies in total.
>  They take seats opposite of you, on the second plaid sofa.
>  Furthest to your left is Stove-Top. Going to the right is another earth pony stallion, a pegasus stallion, a unicorn mare, and.. The other.
>  While it does have the general shape of a grey earth pony, its entire body is a nonsensical mess in its composition.
> Random swaths of dark red scales and tufts of dark black fur are speckled over its hide.
> Even more alien are the calcified protrusions on its back, hard crystal like formations that pierce through the skin and catch the light.
> It makes your skin crawl.
 
“ Before we begin I need to ask if you two have come up with names for yourselves yet.”
> The pegasus blushes and averts its gaze, but the thing nods with a great big grin.
“ Oh...”
> You put on your biggest, most plastic smile you have and pray that you can hold it.
“That's... Wonderful. What exactly is the name you've chosen.”
 
> “Gemhide.“
>  For a moment, you just look at him.
>  And look.
>  You start hearing the sounds of geese, thousands of them.
>  They burst through the walls in furious gaggles, showering the room in wood and plaster.
>  Like vicious blades of steel their wings engulf Stove-Top, the splattering of blood from his shrieking form landing against your face.
> The other stallion sitting next to him is too busy having his eyes pecked out to care.
> The pegasus desperately tries to fly away from the horde, but is caught by another explosion of splinters as more geese enter the house from the main entrance.
> Where the unicorn once sat is now a ruffling pile of blood covered birds.
> Gem-Hide leans back into her chair, and winks seductively at you.
> The shiver down your spine is enough to break you from your happy day dream.
 
“ How wonderful.”
> You cradle the your clipboard as a drunk would nurse his beer, and deftly pluck your pencil from the attached holder.
> Writing the name Gem-Hide is thankful less painful than looking at her.
“ And I guessing that look means you still haven't come up with one yet, 83?”
> You look up at the pegasus mare.
 
> “Yea. I mean, no! I mean I haven't!”
>  She recoils at her own verbal bumbling with a shake.
>  Feather Stone nudges you with his tail.
>  That's five bits you won't have for cider later.
 
“ I see. No worries 83, your number will suffice as long as it needs to.”
>  The mare fidgets in her seat, mouthing a silent affirmation.
“ Right... Feather Stone can you give them the papers?”
 
> “Ofcourse.”
>  Feather Stone takes five sheets from his side pack and hands them out with a courteous nod.
>  When he isn't giving you a hard time, he really is the model of professionalism.
>  It's been a point of curiosity for you ever since you got paired up with him for this job five months ago.
 
> You feel a pointed tap on your shoulder.
>  “Hey.”
>  You blink and see Feather Stone in front of you giving the strangest look.
>  He leans in and lowers his voice.
>  “Look, if you want to get in touch with the vegetative side of your family tree that's fine with me, but keep it to non-work hours, Brightly.”
>  You lean around the bird's annoying face and see that the others are finished with their census papers and talking with one another.
 
“ Right.”
> You clear your throat and stand up from the sofa.
“ Thank you for your time. I'll see you all again in a month”
> The residents all smile and give you pleasant nod.
> Except for Gem-Hide.
> She just winked at you in an attempt to be alluring.
“ Lets get going Feather Stone.”
> Just turn around, and keep walking.
> Past the horrid furniture and through the door to freedom.