[Alternate Realities Journal Entry 002]
 
[Shift 9 – Date unknown]
 
[One caveat of this particular brand of space-time breaking travel is that I seem to have lost any and all concept of time. When I shift, there's no guarantee that the realm I end up in will be at the same time as the last one, if it even uses the same timescale. Though for the most part things have been relatively linear; I haven't been flung insanely far into the past or future so far. For whatever reason, every universe I shift into seems to be at around 2 years since it's version of myself came to Equestria, much like myself. I can only assume that I am still at least somewhat normally moving forwards through time, even if I am zipping madly back and forth across the barriers of the multiverse as I do so.]
 
[I do sometimes wonder what happens to the original Anons when I suddenly replace their existence in each realm. Though, to be honest, I'd rather not think about it. I've already got enough on my mind without adding the guilt of potentially obliterating a multitude of different versions of myself on this wild ride I can't seem to get off of, even if I wanted to.]
 
[And after my latest reality jaunt, I really, really want to.]
 
===
 
>BLAM
 
“God, why does that have to be so damn |loud|.”
 
>Futilely covering your ears, you contemplated just how much you hated the sound of your shifting. You had sincerely hoped that it was only a temporary side effect of the spell, but after being deafened by it 8 bloody times now, you were afraid it may be yet another irritating part of your new life. Eventually this was going to turn into 'the wacky misadventures of reality jumping anon that's also fucking deaf'.
 
>”What's so loud, Anon?”
 
>The voice of Rainbow Dash pushes through the ringing that had taken over your head. It sounded muffled, like she was talking through a thick layer of cotton. Great, the permanent damage had already started. You open your eyes to- oh sweet fuck what
 
“Gyeah!”
 
>You recoil sharply in horror at the picture your damnable eyes paint for you. Standing next to you was what for all purposes looked like a normal humanoid creature, albeit dressed in a colorful, light blue furred costume. It's eyes were fixed in an eternal thousand-yard stare, quite literally just bits of plastic sewn onto the oversized head, atop which multicolored strips of felt dangled erratically. It looked like she cobbled the thing together in her garage from loose carpet samples and fiberglass insulation ripped from the walls. ...At least you sincerely |hoped| there was a female creature under there.
 
>”What? Are you feeling okay?”
 
You flounder for words. “Huh? No, I- I mean, yes, I'm... I'm fine.”
 
>You were most assuredly |not| fine. On the Equestrian Standard Scale of Fineness, with 1 being “fine as hell” and 10 being “damn son, calm down”, you were currently clocking in at roughly 22, which top pony theorists described as being so unfine that it would most likely be lethal to the creature that incurred the state. They, of course, reassured everyone that it was also purely hypothetical, and unlikely to ever come about. Fucking idiots. You are roused from your mental tangent by the suited biped addressing you again.
 
>”Well, sort out whatever crazy human stuff you've got going on up in that noggin of yours. I'mma dash on ahead to Sugarcube Corner. Catch ya there!”
 
>The vague approximation of Dash stretches her fuzzy, stumped costume arms out forwards and runs off at a perfectly logical rate of speed, all the while making whoosh noises with her mouth. You weren't entirely sure what you were expecting her to do, but it sure as Celestia wasn't that. Still standing somewhere out in the middle of Ponyville, you took a moment to try and compose yourself.
 
“Okay, I can deal with this. I've |got| to deal with this. If I don't start working on that now, I'll be dead before the week is out. Or has it already been a week? And why in the world am I talking to myself?”
 
>”You could be under a lot of stress, that's usually when I start doing it.”
 
>Your heart pretty much jumps into your throat. Swallowing it, you turn to find a similarly suited monstrosity; this one attempting to be Twilight, and doing a very bad job of it. Her mane was the wrong shade of purple, her cutie mark had the wrong number of stars, and you were rather certain that the purple pony you knew didn't look to weigh over 300 pounds. You'd honestly give this creature a right solid critique on it's level of craftsmanship if you weren't so pants-shittingly terrified.
 
>”Something on your mind?” the creature rasped through a mesh mouthhole. You managed to shake your head rapidly. Fatlight tilted her head a little “Are you sure?”
 
“Yeah, I'm- I'm just a little anxious right now, is all.”
 
>With some kind of exaggerated arm wave, Grimace Sparkle leaned forwards a bit and put her suithooves together, taking some stance she evidently thought to be cute. It wasn't.
 
>“Aww, you know there's no need to be anxious around me, ya big lug. C'mere.”
 
>Like a man on a beach as a 70-foot tidal wave lurches towards shore, you could only watch in hopelessness as the rotund atrocity against ponykind lunged for you with surprising speed, embracing you in a hug. Your body froze up like a deer in headlights, and you desperately tried to ignore the acrid stench of body odor now invading your nostrils, or the sensation of matted fur rubbing against you through your mercifully thick clothes. You barely had a sense left that wasn't being violated against your will.
 
>After 12 agonizing seconds, the purple narwhal releases you, looking up at you expectantly. You struggle to crack an uneasy smile, now more than ever afraid of the repercussions of acting out of line of your alternate self. You liked your organs right where they were, thank you very much.
 
>”Now let's hurry on to Sugarcube Corner, the party's surely underway by now.”
 
---
 
>You stand before the saccharine door to what you were sure were the gates of Tartarus themselves. Here, contained within, were more foul aberrations than you were ever prepared to encounter in a single lifetime. Thankfully, your crossing the threshold of the damned was delayed, if only for a few precious moments, as you stood waiting for your unwanted companion.
 
>”Just... just a second, hahh... hahh... I'm coming... hoo boy...”
 
>Lardlight Cankle continued her slow, labored march to your location, having trailed behind you the entire way. On the bright side, you no longer feared for your life around her, being moderately certain the only time this one ever picked up a bladed instrument of any kind was to cleave away more slices of cake for her insatiable vacuum of a stomach. Eventually, she reaches her destination, resting her handstumps on her knees, a feat you thought impossible since you doubted she's even seen her legs at all in the last 10 years.
 
>”Alright... alright, I'm good. Man, that sure worked me up an appetite. Let's get in there and get at those sweets.”
 
>You silently look from her back to the dreaded portal. Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepared yourself for what lay ahead, and placed your hand on the door.
 
>The second the door was even slightly cracked, a torrent of hot, sweaty air blasted you in the face. With it it carried the smell of more bodily fluids than you thought could conceivably mix, causing you to look away and choke. Once again steeling your reserve, you pushed onwards, into the maw of insanity.
 
>It was, for all intents and purposes, worse than you could have possibly imagined in any plane of existence. The confectionery was wall-to-wall crammed full of all manner of terrifying degenerates, each dressed in their own slipshod costume. A bloated Mrs. Cake handed out trays of cupcakes and cookies, all of which were shortly grabbed and jammed into creepy, static faces. Some of them didn't really even have a proper mouthhole, so all they ended up doing was smearing icing and cake all over their costumed heads, adding to the collection of other stains you wished not to dwell on the origins of.
 
>You squeezed through the shuddering masses of spaghetti, and took a seat at the table along with some of the creatures you recognized as profane approximations of things you once called friends. You were beginning to wonder why you bothered trying to keep up appearances of not being an interdimensional traveler, but then again this world had yet to really give you any time to think about anything logical.
 
>For a time, you sat there in silence, letting the world be as it was around you. You watched Fluttershy, who was merely wearing a yellow spandex suit and one of those weird horse masks that had been modified with hair and paint, undulate unnaturally in the corner, your eyes unable to look away. At least until you saw what was supposed to be Applejack, somewhat impressively the only thing around on four legs. Her pained struggles at simple movement told you that whatever was inside was not supposed to be as such. You also took note that there were no less than 12 Derpys present.
 
>Eventually you were again brought back to the now, much to your chagrin, by someone calling your name. It looked to be Rarity this time, who for her credit looked the most normal out of anything you'd seen here so far. Her mane was still a little screwy though.
 
>“Anonymous, you seem tense. Aren't you enjoying the party?”
 
“Who, me? Oh, yes, I'm having a wonderful time! Yep, just great. Everything's fantastic, that's for sure. Yessir, nothing wrong with this old fellow, heh heh heh heh.”
 
>”Then why are you scratching the finish off of your chair?”
 
>You looked down to find you were indeed griping your chair awfully hard. With a sigh, you released the hardwood arms of the chair, and brought your own arms forward to rest your head against.
 
“Alright, look. This has gone on long enough, and I need to talk about it now. This might be hard for some of you to believe, but I'm not-”
 
>You are very abruptly cut off by a huge mass of pink leaping into your line of sight. Pinkie, who's bug-eyed stare came from a head far too large for her body, even by this universe's crazy standards, had somehow come from |above|, dangling from the ceiling fan just overhead.
 
>“Ooh, ooh! I know! You finally realized you're not really a human, and are just a pony trapped in an alien body, right? Right?”
 
“What? No! I'm from another-”
 
>She cuts you off again. “From another world, we know! We've all been spending the last two years trying to help you find out your true self, and it's finally paid off! Oh, we'll get you a suit and everything and it'll be great! Oh, what's your pony soul look like? Is he red? Black? Both? I bet he's an alicorn, isn't he?”
 
“You're not listening to me you daft fool! I'm trying to say-”
 
>”And the best part is, you'll finally get to marry Twilight, like you always wanted!”
 
“-That I'm from- what.”
 
>The blob of purple across from you, though incapable of blushing, grabs her head and shakes it back and forth in pantomime embarrassment. You stare blankly for a full minute, your brain slowly processing this new piece of information. Finally, a click.
 
“Well, I'm done.”
 
>You throw your hands up and scoot your chair back. Standing up, you take the straightest path you can manage to the door, leaving the table dumbfounded.
 
---------
 
>The next shift came as several of the suited miscreants were desperately trying to wrestle a hacksaw out of your hands while you tried to cut your own head off. Realizing what happened, you discard the slightly bloodstained saw and come to find yourself standing in front of the Carousel Boutique. Hesitantly, you ring the doorbell. Every atom of your body hopes as hard as it can that the creatures of this realm weren't as unimaginably horrible as the last one, as impossible a prospect that that seemed. You even started to chant this wish under your breath.
 
“Please don't be weird, please don't be weird, please don't be weird...”
 
>The door swings open. A tall, white-fleshed creature stands before you. She has 12 sets of eyes, all different sizes, and several pairs of large, pincer like limbs sticking off of her back, curved forwards and baring their sharpened ends. Her curly purple tail of what seemed to either be snakes, worms, or something in-between twitches idly as a greeting gurgles out of the many tentacled orifice that served as her mouth.
 
>“Oh, hello Anonymous.”
 
“...Oh thank god.”
 
>“I assume you're here for my weekly full-body scale scrape? The sisters at the spa just don't know their way around a belt sander like you do. ...And they don't accept such... alternate methods of payment as you do.” She draws a seductive circle on your chest with a clammy hoof.
 
>A wide smile overtakes your face as waves of relief invade every fiber of your being.
 
“Lead the way.”