It's Time to Stop Posting: Intervention


                                            >(you) are in Equestria.

                                            >There are no computers, cell phones, nor internet.

                                            >This is forced abstinence from r/4chan.

                                            >(you) do not cope well since your zoomer brain is wired to seek instant gratification.

                                            >(you) write onto slips of paper and "post" them onto anything as (you) go about your day.

                                            >Real-time shitposting.

                                            >The locals don't appreciate it.

                                            >It's definitely not because all of your "posts" are mean or vulgar.

                                            >These damn buzz-kills need to lighten up and key-in.

                                            >(you) are currently visiting Starlight Glimmer.

                                            >Starlight gives (you) The Talk.

                                            >One misfit to another on the importance of boundaries and respect.

                                            >"Anon, I understand your 'posting' is an important part of your Earth culture, but ponies around here don't tolerate being the object of ridicule like your 'horsefucker' friends back home. I don't want you to feel like I am slighting your culture. I just want to help you to understand that ponies are sensitive and that stopping will help you fit in better."

                                            >"Besides, I worry about Fluttershy. Your 'posting' causes her so much grief that she hasn't left her cottage in weeks. She is afraid you will 'post' something that makes her feel uncomfortable."

                                            >Starlight falls silent and smiles nervously to punctuate her spiel.

                                            >(you) don't respond to her heartfelt talk.

                                            >(you) instead "post" a slip of paper onto her coat that reads "tl;dr."

                                            >Starlight sighs in defeat and motions to Pinkie for the check.

                                            >Pinkie's ass jiggles as she hops over to your table.

                                            >(you) quickly scribble onto a slip of paper and slap it onto her flank.

                                            >"Whoa Anon. Don't put your claws near my cookie jar. We're just friends..."

                                            >Pinkie leans in and whispers the end of her sentence "...for now."

                                            >"Hey, what does '>rape' mean?"

                                            >Celestia bless her naive heart.

                                            >Starlight eyes the offensive note with shock.

                                            >All of these real-time "replies" make Anon tingle.

                                            >(you) "post" again on Pinkie.

                                            >"'Built for BHC?' What in the world does that mean?"

                                            >Starlight's expression changes to one of confusion as she attempts to decipher its meaning.

                                            >(you) "post" again.

                                            >">being this new."

                                            >"Costanza.jpg"

                                            >Starlight drops her bits onto the table and flees to avoid the embarrassment she is experiencing by associating with Anon.

                                            >Damn normies.


                                            >(you) rise up from bed.

                                            >(you) greet the dawn.

                                            >Outside is a pleasant chill permeating the air and dewy grass.

                                            >Gentle rays of sunlight illuminate Equestria.

                                            >It is paradise.

                                            >Boredom immediately sets in for the agent of chaos: (you).

                                            >It is too peaceful for your liking.

                                            >(you) suit up and reach for your pen and paper.

                                            >But the instruments of your will are gone from the nightstand.

                                            >This moment of realization causes (you) to freeze.

                                            >(you) cannot "post" without pen and paper.

                                            >Early birds chirp their melody in the stillness.

                                            >A loud crashing and tinkling of falling glass follows.

                                            >Amidst the broken glass is a stone with an attached note.

                                            >"Jerk!"

                                            >(you) scan outside the broken window. The culprit is nowhere to be found.

                                            >(you) are unnerved and nervously try to move on with your day.

                                            >Your urge to shitpost compels (you) to walk into town.

                                            >Hail assaults (you) when you step out of your home.

                                            "What the fuck?"

                                            >It is definitely the work of a pegasus.

                                            "Rainbow Dash! I know it is you there! What's the big idea?"

                                            >Your question is answered with confetti paper.

                                            >(you) catch glimpses of what is written on the papers as they flutter around your head.

                                            >"Jerk."

                                            >"Meanie."

                                            >"Rude."

                                            >"Foul."

                                            >"Uncouth."

                                            >These simple words somehow hurt more than all of the salty vocabulary (you) familiarized yourself with on 4chan.

                                            >The hail stops following (you) upon entering the town.

                                            >(you) stand in the open-air market, soaked and shivering.

                                            >At this time merchants are filing in and setting up their stalls and wares.

                                            >(you) look down to avoid stepping on anypony as (you) make your way through.

                                            >(you) perceive touches on your body and attempt to shake off the sensations.

                                            >It drives (you) crazy and (you) let out a frustrated yell as (you) swing around to face your tormentor.

                                            >Every time (you) throw your head around (you) see nothing out of the ordinary.

                                            >But (you) did see that each touch left a note on your body.

                                            >Upon each note are doodles of frowning, teary or glowering faces.

                                            "Who the hell is there? Does anybody see them?"

                                            >The ponies around (you) shake their heads while sporting amused looks.

                                            >Some even openly laugh.

                                            >(you) feel like the ass-end of a joke.

                                            >They mock (you).

                                            >How could they do this to (you)?

                                            >Stepping carefully over ponies, (you) flee to Sugarcube Corner while flailing away at the invisible hooves.

                                            >(you) throw open the door, which rings a shopkeeper's bell.

                                            >As if summoned by the chime, Pinkie materializes besides (you).

                                            >How the fuck she does it (you) cannot say, but this is no time to wonder.

                                            >"Hey 'Nonners. A secret admirer ordered you a cupcake! Isn't that great?"

                                            >Pinkie produces a cupcake for (you), which (you) take and bite into.

                                            >(you) take your wins when (you) can.

                                            >"Oh! They also left a note. 'Dear Anonymous. You made me cry. I just wanted to be your friend.'"


                                            >The sweetness of the cupcake turns bitter in your mouth upon hearing that heart-rending confession.

                                            "Huh? Who said that?"

                                            >"But wait! There's more."

                                            >Pinkie Pie shuffles to another sheet of paper.

                                            >"This letter here says 'dear Anonymous. Everypony is very worried about you. Your 'shitposting' as you call it is making it difficult to grow close to you. We want to believe you don't mean those offensive things that you write and it's just a weird coping mechanism to deal with not being able to return to Earth. Everypony here wants nothing more than to see you happy and flourishing. We all implore you to stop 'shitposting' and find a healthy outlet for your mourning. Your dear friends of Ponyville.'"

                                            >Pinkie Pie shows (you) the open letter. Underneath the message are signatures of every inhabitant of the town...

                                            >...Including Pinkie Pie's signature.

                                            >The cupcake drops onto the floor as (you) take the letter with your shaking hands and silently read it.

                                            >Quiet shuffling disturbs your reading.

                                            >(you) look up from the page to meet eyes with all those of Ponyville.

                                            >One by one the ponies proceed to "post" onto your body little notes.

                                            >(you) read them.

                                            >"You are my friend."

                                            >"You look handsome."

                                            >"Your eyes are beautiful."

                                            >"Show me your kindness."

                                            >"Speak with your lovely voice, not post-it notes."

                                            >"I like your mane."

                                            >"I want to be hugged by your strong arms."

                                            >"Please don't be sad anymore."

                                            >"I can be your new family."

                                            >"You are awesome."

                                            >The "posts" continue ad infinitum until the last pony.

                                            >Delaying until the end, Starlight Glimmer levitates her note up for you to see.

                                            >It reads "built for pony pussy."

                                            >She sticks the note onto you with a smile and says "for (you), big guy."

                                            >(you) - no, you are crying from the touching gesture.

                                            "I never had so many positive replies to my OP. I am so sorry for my behavior. I will stop. I love you all so much."

                                            >The entire room is filled with supportive ponies that take turns comforting Anonymous.

                                            >Still in tears, Anonymous silently vows to stop being a gigantic faggot from that day onward.

                                            >The End.