/ub/ - Überhengst

>>8592
I finished The Collector, and Down and Out in Paris and London not too long ago, but right now am reading Blood Meridian.

Blood meridian is such a fun read, despite the lack of punctuation, the author is really skilled at setting the tone, pacing and providing a clear image of the scenes.

I'm reading "Bitter Harvest - The Great Betrayal and the Dreadful Aftermath", ii is an autobiography written by the last White Prime Minister of Rhodesia.
Spoiler alert: Civic Nationalism (giving political rights to negroes) doomed Rhodesia and her White Nation.

>>8592
The Bible and the 48 Laws of Power (Robert Greene)
>>8605
Based

I've recently gone back to a book I finished a long time ago.
I almost never read a book twice, and usually forget the title also BUT

Jack L Chalker, the Wonderland Gambit series, starting with the Cybernetic Walrus

It's the Maretrix long before who whozit brothers tried to tell the tale. It has a segment with herm centaurs, so there's that.

>>8592
About a third of the way through. Can't say whether I actually like it or not yet, but something about it is haunting, and I feel it creep up on me when I'm alone. Not sure if it's actually going to build up to something, or if it's just going to wander through all the different protag's lives, as a snapshot of lost souls. Wouldn't mind either.

When I was in my late twenties, I still weighed as much as I did when I was fourteen. - 150lbs.

Then I was forced to work full time, and became an alcoholic. Some two decades later I'm north of 190lbs and probably never going to regain any portion of my health that I so briefly had.

>>8162
Although I am Iranian and these matters may not directly concern me, but I would like to share a thought with you:
Throughout history, peoples of Aryan roots have rarely changed their beliefs by force. Whether in the northern lands of Europe or on the Iranian plateau, these peoples, when embracing a new faith, were often either disillusioned by the corruption of their old traditions or found profound parallels between their ancient beliefs and the new ones.
Let me illustrate this with an example from our own history:
During the arab invasion of Iran, despite fierce resistance, the arabs ultimately prevailed due to the internal weakness of the Sassanid Empire. Yet the Iranians did not accept islam by the sword. Over generations, through gradual acquaintance and by recognizing deep similarities between Zoroastrianism and islamic teachings, many willingly embraced islam. Additionally, the corruption and decay that had crept into late Zoroastrianism made this transition more natural for some.
An even more striking example lies in the Mongol invasions. Despite the overwhelming brutality, Iranians never adopted Mongol shamanism. Instead, over time, the Mongols themselves converted to islam and were profoundly influenced by Iranian culture.
Thus, if the northern peoples turned to christianity at some point in history, it is hard to believe it was purely by force. Considering the proud warrior spirit of Aryan people, it is far more likely that they either grew weary of their old ways or found meaningful resonance between the old traditions and the christian message.

Therefore, instead of opposing christianity, perhaps it would be wiser to highlight the similarities between the ancient traditions and christianity. Otherwise, one might inadvertently suggest that your ancestors abandoned Paganism out of mere defeat, rather than by recognizing profound commonalities, which would not do justice to the proud and resilient spirit of Aryan peoples.

>>8624
I just want a mare to ride my face till I drown. Is that so much as to ask?

>>8626
it just occurred to me that horses don't do any movement that could be associated with facesitting
sorry anon

>>8627
Two examples.

>>8628
I concede
They'll have to pry me away with a crowbar

Behond! A 3D printer that can print clay for under $500!
Also
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metal_clay

So there I was in my little shop welding on some things and thinking about guns and ammo and how the state is buying almost all of it up, leaving nothing left for people reloading their own ammo.
Then I got to thinking "how could the state make it impossible for average people to own a gun legally?"
Well, they did already, sort of.
With the NFA tax, full auto and suppressors more than doubled the cost of the firearm when first implemented. It is only because they didn't scale the NFA tax with inflation that suppressors are fairly common these days.

But really, how could the government do it right now?
Let's back up a bit and see how a typical firearm system works. There is the cartridge which includes the primer, rifle powder, projectile, and casing. Then there is the rifle which is either bolt action or simi-auto.
The state (BATFE) knows that a low-ball ban would enrage most people, such as, declaring rifle powder a high explosive. I don't think that will happen.
What might happen though is switching to a completely different kind of ammo that doesn't use primers, and slowly shutting down primer manufacturers via OSHA regulations. There are only 3-4 companies in USA making primers.

Pretty much all commonly used munitions and firearms are designed by the military. If the military could buy firearms that are impossible to make on a lathe or mill then it's possible to slowly get rid of most civilian firearms. Almost all firearm companies rely on those juicy government contracts to supply the military and other government agencies with firearms and munitions. If the government suddenly switched to some sort of new design that some component was illegal to own, then I could see further divergence between government and normal people over the span of maybe 75 years or so.

>How The Amazingly Burly ‘Buffalo Bicycle’ is Changing The World
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QV88C5ZK0x0
>17 minutes

This bike seems to be an engineer's wet dream. Does anyone know of other projects with the goal of "robust design and reparability with crude tools and limited supply lines"?

I know there are at least two laptop projects. The Framework laptop emphasizing reparability and customizability / upgradability, and another laptop with clear plastic and individual parts you can repair yourself and source from any store that does what Radio Shack used to do. This is different from just a housing for a Rasberry Pi or market equivalent.

This second laptop project costs a bit more than the first one, and I think it can't use windows.

>>8208
>This second laptop project costs a bit more than the first one, and I think it can't use windows.
I'm sure you mean the MNT Reform. That's good, as illiterate winblows niggers can't use it. The CPU is on a module, and so is swappable. There are different ARM modules available, and a new RISC-V module is being developed. I'm considering to get one someday. Let winniggers suffer eternally in jewtel/JMD x86 hell.

For the record, my smallest of kittens fixates on the spots I spray Ayanne snowpity

High school juniors with shop class trade skills like welding and plumbing are getting job offers for $70,000/year before they even graduate. No debt.

Okay, no joke, notice how fast she's hitting those notes. Please let this become a thing
https://youtube.com/shorts/gx2HlP5y9bk?si=pL_DmFlq3uOhLHwe

On a relevant note, on /r9k/ I met a self-identified far-right Jewpilled dude into pegging. He had the whole dommy mommy obsession going on and was a violent misogynist who could only fantasize about being a femboy dominated by another femboy. He was 29 and French. He bragged about how he was obsessed with Vtubers but never donated to them because that would make him a loser simp.

>>8613
I made a meme about French people's worst fears being The Bible, razors and marriage, and he said "I've never seen someone meme on my nationality so accurately."

Happy Friday
Trajectory is everything, what you do every day defines who you are as a person. Even if you only commit 2 minutes to a task a day, you embody that task and become your actions.

If you are constantly procrastinating then this advice is for you, forget about your goals, the path, everything. Focus on the task, the system, the actions you do every day.

1% better each day = 37.8x better in one year
It really is just showing up every day. That's all you have to do to win.

>>7720
Okay, normie.

>7720
>all cartoons aimed at teens and adults are still anime-style
Not even close to true.
>to me
You do not decide what is and isn't anime.

>>7720
Who's crying? You're objectively wrong.
Anime isnt the umbrella term, cartoons and animation is the umbrella, of which anime is the sub-category. You're effectively trying to argue that all furres are MLP, instead of all MLP being furries.
Lol

>>7720
>all cartoons aimed at teens and adults are still anime-style to me. So ill still call it anime.
That's retarded. No western show has ever actually had an anime style, they were only anime-inspired at best. Nevermind that, none of them were ever written like an anime would be, and had vastly different dialogue and messages, so putting them together with other anime would be retarded.

>>7720
>Nigga wrote a whole wall of text just to say
Please fuck off back to discord dot com thanks

Would you?

>>2297
Sorry, a lot happened, and I honestly lost interest in this book, chapter I has a lot of interesting insights but chapter II decided to focus on the party itself and It's not that interesting at all.

I feel like this is an unresolved business of mine so I'll just post some excerpts up until the end of chapter I. Too bad no one else took the flag and kept the thing going but that kind of thing happens I guess.

Page 281
>Whoever wishes to win over the masses must know the key that will open the door to
their hearts. It is not objectivity, which is a feckless attitude, but a determined will,
backed up by force, when necessary.

>The masses are but a part of Nature herself. Their feeling is such that they cannot
understand mutual hand-shakings between men who are declared enemies. Their wish
is to see the stronger side win and the weaker wiped out or subjected unconditionally to
the will of the stronger.

In this page we see hitler indicating that for politics to truly work, one must change the masses themselves. In other words, give a man a clear objective and a reason to change and they will change, and they will follow you through hell.
But also remember that what the masses want, may not be exactly what you want, despite having the same objective.

>The nationalization of the masses can be successfully achieved only if, in the positive
struggle to win the soul of the people, those who spread the international poison among
them are exterminated.

He also mentions 'the poison' a lot refering to what you can otherwise call demoralization agents or agents of chaos. If you study the way nazism worked back in the day, it is clear that hitler took this very seriously. People nowadays think the tactics employed by him were evil, but I find them quite genius myself.

Page 282
>men who would try to educate the pug-dog to do the work of the greyhound, not
understanding that neither the speed of the greyhound nor the imitative faculties of the
poodle are inborn qualities which cannot be drilled into the one or the other by any
form of training.

This page starts with what nowadays people call 'racial realism'. In other words, years and years of evolution have led to certain people act certain way, be it due to tradition or just because their body adapted to said lifestyle.

He further expands into these ideas by mentioning the cultural differences between the races. It is clear that hitler had noticed a problem and that he was trying to address it: Races mixing lead to issues in old germany, and these issues lead to a fucked-up country.

>To incorporate in the national community, or simply the State, a stratum of the people
which has now formed a social class the standing of the higher classes must not be
lowered but that of the lower classes must be raised.
We now begin to talk about the importance of the working class for a functioning society, and how international ideas can clash with the working class, also he briefly mentions how the leaders of the working class may follow said ideals, and how these ideas may conflict with national ideas, and how this ultimately is just bad for every party involved.
Hitler likes to focus on the working class, for ultimately it is the working class that maintains the whole system afloat, thus gaining their favor is very important. He seems to have a strong sense for justice.

283

>A worker certainly does something which is contrary to the spirit of folk-community if
he acts entirely on his own initiative and puts forward exaggerated demands without
taking the common good into consideration or the maintenance of the national
economic structure. But an industrialist also acts against the spirit of the folk-
community if he adopts inhuman methods of exploitation and misuses the working
forces of the nation to make millions unjustly for himself from the sweat of the workers.
He has no right to call himself 'national' and no right to talk of a folk-community, for he
is only an unscrupulous egoist who sows the seeds of social discontent and provokes a
spirit of conflict which sooner or later must be injurious to the interests of the country.

And here we see him calling-out greedy individuals whom amass millions at the expense of everyone in the country. The following paragarph is also critical about the dangers of internationalization, and how it is important for the fatherland ideas to reign over international ones. Hitler sees humanity not as 'the human race' but a bunch of races, just like dogs. This makes a lot of sense since he likes animals, it is quite an animalistic way to see the world and I can't say it's wrong, however it is the kind of thing that upsets people online where foxes talk to lions as if they were one and the same 'animal' race.

>>8586
>If among those intellectual circles that are nationalist in their outlook men can be found who genuinely love the people and look forward eagerly to the future of Germany, and at the same time have a sound grasp of the importance of a struggle whose aim is to
win over the soul of the masses, such men are cordially welcomed in the ranks of our
movement, because they can serve as a valuable intellectual force in the work that has
to be done.
Here he explains that he is not against the bourgeois itself, he is willing to take those that genuinely care about the nation's people, but

>But this movement can never aim at recruiting its membership from the
unthinking herd of bourgeois voters. If it did so the movement would be burdened with
a mass of people whose whole mentality would only help to paralyse the effort of our
campaign to win the mass of the people.
Sadly the burgeois is compromissed of people that would be no-good for the group. He further explains why in this paragraph, if you wanna read it yourself.

>If propaganda is to be of service to the movement it must be addressed to one side
alone; for if it should vary the direction of its appeal it will not be understood in the one camp or may be rejected by the other, as merely insisting on obvious and uninteresting truisms; for the intellectual training of the two camps that come into question here has been very different.

Here he talks about the importance and paradoxical nature of propaganda. The information on this page might be useful to understand why is it that those in power would rather manipulate the masses than outright tell them 'we need this' or that:

>Even the manner in which something is presented and the tone in which particular
details are emphasized cannot have the same effect in those two strata that belong
respectively to the opposite extremes of the social structure. If the propaganda should
refrain from using primitive forms of expression it will not appeal to the sentiments of
the masses. If, on the other hand, it conforms to the crude sentiments of the masses in its words and gestures the intellectual circles will be averse to it because of its roughness and vulgarity.

just to expand on the previous point.

288
>Therefore, from any and every viewpoint, the organization is only a necessary evil. At
best it is only a means of reaching certain ends. The worst happens when it becomes an
end in itself.

> Since the world produces more mechanical than intelligent beings, it will always be
easier to develop the form of an organization than its substance; that is to say, the ideas which it is meant to serve

'organizations' are necessary evils, because it is extremely hard to spread ideas on themselves due to nature's nature. In this regard I have to disagree, as I find it more important to educate mechanical beings into believing in ideals rather than relying on organizations.

291
>If an inspiring personality who has the gift of leadership cannot be found for the
organization and direction of a local group it is better for the movement to refrain from establishing such a group than to run the risk of failure after the group has been
founded.
Leaders are important in an organization, without a leader, it fails. This is also the reason nazism failed, an organization falls-apart without a leader, or if the leader makes a big mistake.

>It is quite erroneous to believe that the strength of a movement must increase if it be
combined with other movements of a similar kind. Any expansion resulting from such
a combination will of course mean an increase in external development, which
superficial observers might consider as also an increase of power; but in reality the
movement thus admits outside elements which will subsequently weaken its
constitutional vigour.
In other words quality over quantity. You can't piss on a cup of water to get more water.

292

>By amalgamating political organizations that are approximately alike, certain
immediate advantages may be gained, but advantages thus gained are bound in the
long run to become the cause of internal weaknesses which will make their appearance
later on.
I gotta say this is a weakpoint, another crack in hitler's personality was his paranoia. Despite this paranoia fueling his extremely successful campaign at uniting his nation, the lack of introspection and insistence on the importance of perseverance and spirit may only have led to the weakening of his own cause. If mlpol is to serve as an example, sometimes two causes with different outlooks do need to join forces to breed a new and stronger race; That is also why dogs have so many breeds.

> The movement ought to educate its adherents to the principle that struggle must
not be considered a necessary evil but as something to be desired in itself.
Persecution of an idea only makes it stronger. This is something that resonates to this day. However, if anything, we can see that too much persecution leads to the oppression of an idea to the point it becomes 'wrongthink' and is eventually smothered.

------------------------------------------------------------

And that's it, this silly thing is finally finished.

>>8585
>>8586
>>8587
Friend I'm happy to see that you're around. I read this book because of this thread, so I want to thank you for the great summary of each chapter so far. I'll take the cahnce to do a re-read I think.

>>7774
Without hesitation

>>6545
Silly poner.

>>6545
You were correct the first time, except for the rake, that's used to remove leaves, and the limb cutter should be used on wrists or large tendons.

Hyperborean exercise activated.

5 hour hike yesterday, gonna be lifting heavy things later this evening.

The sun beamed down on Ponyville, painting the town in a glow that seemed to whisper promises of joy and laughter. Through the streets bustling with their everyday symphony of hooves and hellos, Pinkie Pie danced a rhythm all her own. Clipboard in hoof, her eyes sparkled with plans and dreams as she ticked off another item from her list, her heart fluttering with anticipation.

"This year's going to be epic," she chirped to Gummy, her trusty alligator companion, who offered nothing but a blink in return. "I mean, last year was fab, but this? This is gonna be the party to end all parties!"

Her mane bounced with each step, a cascade of pink that seemed to capture the very essence of joy. As she zipped from store to store, collecting decorations, treats, and a myriad of other party essentials, memories of the previous year's bash filled her mind. The laughter, the games, the endless dancing under the stars... it was perfect. But perfection is meant to be surpassed, isn't it?

"I'll need triple the balloons," she mused out loud, adding a note to her ever-growing list. "Ooh! And a cake that's at least five layers high. No, six! With edible glitter and sparkler candles!"

Her enthusiasm was infectious, turning heads and drawing smiles from every pony she passed. Pinkie Pie was a whirlwind of joy, a force of nature with the singular mission of spreading happiness. Today, more than ever, she was determined to make her vision come to life. The stakes were high, not just for the success of the party, but for the promise she'd made to herself: to bring every pony together for a night they'd never forget.

As the sun began its gentle descent, casting golden hues across the cobblestones, Pinkie Pie took a moment to gaze at the sky, her heart as full as the balloons she'd soon set afloat. This party wasn't just another event; it was a testament to the magic of friendship, the kind that turned ordinary days into extraordinary memories.

Yes, she thought, this party will be the best yet. Because when you mix love, laughter, and a little bit of Pinkie magic, anything's possible.

With a determined nod and a final check of her list, Pinkie Pie set off towards her next destination, the wind carrying whispers of the laughter and joy that was to come. And as Ponyville continued its peaceful hum, none could doubt that something truly spectacular was about to unfold, all thanks to the boundless enthusiasm of one pink pony.

>>8594
The next day dawned with a symphony of chirping birds and a sky so clear it seemed as though Ponyville itself was caught in eager anticipation of the night to come. Pinkie Pie, with her heart set on perfection, woke with the sun, her mind racing through the final preparations needed for the grand celebration.

However, as she trotted through the town, a series of unexpected mishaps began to unfurl like a poorly planned party streamer. First, the bakery mixed up the orders, leaving Pinkie with a cake far too small and decidedly lacking in sparkler candles. "Not a problem," she chirped, her optimism unwavering. "I'll just make cupcakes, too! More variety!"

But then, the shipment of special order balloons she'd been so excited about was delayed due to a mix-up at the post office. And if that weren't enough, a sudden, unseasonable downpour soaked through her carefully selected decorations, leaving colors running like tears on a painter's canvas.

For any other pony, such setbacks might have spelled disaster. But not for Pinkie Pie. With a determined puff of her chest and a flick of her tail, she set her hooves to work. "So what if things aren't going exactly as planned?" she mused to Gummy, who watched her scramble from one task to the next. "The best parties are about the fun and the friendship, not the frills!"

As the day wore on, Pinkie's relentless energy saw the party beginning to take shape once more, albeit in a different form than she'd first imagined. Yet, despite her best efforts to spread the word and drum up excitement, the responses from her friends were worryingly noncommittal.

Twilight had an unexpected study session with Starlight. Rarity was caught up in a last-minute order. Rainbow Dash was called away on Wonderbolt duty. Applejack's harvest was taking longer than planned, and Fluttershy had a sick animal that needed her care. One by one, the reasons piled up, each more disheartening than the last.

Standing in the middle of her partially decorated venue, Pinkie Pie couldn't help the flicker of doubt that shadowed her usual bright outlook. "They'll come around," she whispered to herself, trying to shake off the feeling that this party, the one she'd poured her heart into, might end up being less about bringing everypony together and more about facing her own company.

With the sun setting, casting long shadows over her plans, Pinkie Pie's heart swayed between hope and hesitation. The day's challenges had been many, and the dwindling daylight seemed to mirror the sinking spirits of her party aspirations. But just as the last rays dipped below the horizon, an idea sparked within her, bright and bold and brimming with possibility.

"Why not just reschedule for tomorrow?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of revelation and relief. "It's Saturday! Everypony loves a weekend party!"

The decision felt like lifting a weight off her shoulders. With renewed vigor, Pinkie bounced around, sending out new invitations with a promise of an even bigger and better celebration. "One more day gives me extra time to fix everything up and add even more surprises!" she mused, her optimism blooming once again like the flowers after rain.

>>8595
Under the soft glow of the moon, the party venue shone like a beacon of hope and happiness amidst the quiet of the night. Pinkie Pie, her mane now peppered with streaks of glitter and frosting, moved around the space with a gentle grace, far removed from her usual effervescent bounce. Each step was measured, each decoration placed with a silent wish that it would bring a smile to her friends' faces.

As she hung the last of the handmade streamers, a sigh escaped her lips—a mix of exhaustion and anticipation. Her eyes, reflecting the twinkling lights she'd strung up around the room, drifted to the empty space that would soon, hopefully, be filled with laughter and chatter. In that quiet moment, memories flooded in, each one a precious reminder of the bonds she cherished.

She remembered the laughter that filled the air during their impromptu picnic at Sweet Apple Acres, the warmth of the hugs shared after a successful fashion show at Rarity's boutique, the thrill of adventure from their last-minute trip to the Crystal Empire. Each memory was a snapshot of joy, a testament to the love and friendship that tied their lives together.

With every recollection, her resolve to make this party perfect only grew stronger. "This is more than just a party," Pinkie whispered to herself, her heart swelling with the love she felt for her friends. "It's a 'thank you' for every smile, every hug, and every moment that we've shared."

The final touch was a small, but special addition—a photo booth corner with props and backdrops for capturing the night's memories. "Because every party should be remembered," she thought, a playful grin spreading across her face as she pictured her friends striking silly poses.

Despite the fatigue that clung to her like a persistent shadow, Pinkie Pie's spirit was undeterred. As she looked over her handiwork, her heart hummed with a hopeful melody, one that whispered of reunions and new memories yet to be made. Tonight, she thought, would be a night where the magic of friendship shone brightest, illuminating even the darkest sky with its indomitable light.

With that heartwarming thought, Pinkie Pie settled down to wait, her gaze fixed on the path that would soon, she hoped, bring her friends to her side. The night was still, but her heart was alight with dreams of laughter, love, and a party that would be remembered for all the right reasons.

>>8596
The clock ticked away, echoing through the expanse of the room, each stroke a reminder of the time slipping into the night. Pinkie Pie, positioned by the entrance, wore a smile that flickered as brightly as the party lights strung overhead. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, darting to the door at the slightest sound, her heart a drumbeat of hope and excitement.

But as the night deepened, the vibrant energy that had filled the room seemed to dim, suffused with an air of longing and quietude. The door, which she had imagined would swing open with laughter and cheers, remained still, a silent guardian to the dreams she had woven with such care.

Finally, the soft murmur of conversation announced the arrival of some guests—Fluttershy, her gentle demeanor a balm, and Applejack, whose steady presence was as reassuring as the earth itself. Their smiles, though warm, carried traces of apology, an unspoken understanding of the vision that had yet to fully materialize.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world, sugarcube," Applejack said, her voice laden with sincerity. Fluttershy, nodding in agreement, added, "Your parties always bring so much joy, Pinkie."

The words, meant to comfort, only served to underscore the chasm between expectation and reality. Pinkie Pie, ever the embodiment of joy and resilience, rallied her spirits, pouring her heart into making the evening memorable for those who had come. Games were played, albeit with less vigor than usual; jokes were shared, their laughter not quite reaching the corners of the room; and the dance floor saw shadows more than shapes.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere, though tinged with a subdued warmth, couldn't shake the pall of what might have been. Pinkie Pie's laughter, usually so infectious, now seemed to echo too loudly against the walls, a stark reminder of the empty spaces around them.

In a quiet corner, away from the gentle hum of conversation, Pinkie Pie allowed herself a moment of reflection. The glittering decorations, the carefully curated playlist, the array of treats—all seemed to mock her with their promise of a celebration that fell just short of its mark.

The glow from the festive lights that once seemed to promise a night of unparalleled joy and camaraderie now flickered softly, casting long shadows that mirrored Pinkie Pie's waning spirits. She watched her friends, Fluttershy and Applejack, make the best of the evening, their smiles genuine but occasionally faltering, as if caught between the desire to uplift and the reality that hung heavily in the air.

In these moments, Pinkie's heart felt like a balloon deflated, not by a sudden pop but by a slow, almost imperceptible, leak of hope. The games she had planned with such enthusiasm were met with polite participation, yet the vibrant energy that usually characterized her parties was conspicuously absent. The laughter that did surface was a testament to the enduring bond between them, a bond that Pinkie cherished deeply. However, it was also a bittersweet reminder of the joyous cacophony that could have been, had the room been filled with all her cherished friends.

The music, a playlist curated with each friend's favorite song in mind, now played to an almost empty dance floor. Pinkie herself swayed to the melodies, trying to ignite a spark of festivity, her efforts a vibrant dance in the face of quietude. Applejack joined in, her movements a mix of awkwardness and earnestness, while Fluttershy tapped her hoof in time with the music, her gentle spirit undimmed by the night's turnout.

Even the feast laid out on the table, a colorful array of sweets and treats, each crafted with loving attention to detail, seemed to lose its luster as the night wore on. Pinkie had imagined her friends delighting in the flavors, their faces lit up with joy and surprise. Instead, the dishes were sampled with appreciation but lacked the communal joy of shared discovery.

As Pinkie Pie stood amidst the party she had poured her heart into, a sense of solitude enveloped her, a stark contrast to the loneliness she had sought to banish with this very celebration. The realization that effort and love do not always guarantee success weighed heavily on her, a lesson as profound as it was painful.

>>8597
As the last whispers of laughter and the soft shuffle of departing hooves faded into the night, Pinkie Pie found herself enveloped in an almost eerie quiet. The vibrant echoes of what she had hoped would be the best party ever now seemed like distant dreams, carried away on the wind. Left alone amidst the remnants of her carefully planned celebration, Pinkie's heart felt heavy, a myriad of emotions swirling within her like a tempestuous sea.

The glittering decorations that had once promised a night of endless joy now stood as silent witnesses to her disappointment. As she began the solitary task of cleaning up, her movements were slow, reflecting the weight of her thoughts. Each piece of streamer taken down, each plate cleared away, felt like she was also trying to tidy away the feelings of betrayal and sadness that clung to her.

"Why didn't they come?" she whispered to the empty room, the question hanging in the air, unanswered. The silence from her friends, those who hadn't shown up, felt like a gap she couldn't bridge, a chasm too wide to cross with her usual cheer and optimism. In this moment of solitude, Pinkie confronted a truth she had never wanted to face—the fear that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as important to her friends as they were to her.

The quiet of the party room, now stripped of its festive air, served as the backdrop to Pinkie's silent contemplation. With each question she whispered into the stillness, it felt as if the shadows themselves were leaning in, eager yet unable to provide the comfort she sought.

"Did I do something wrong?" The question lingered, floating up to the ceiling where balloons still clung, remnants of her hope. "Was my party not fun enough? Not pink enough?" Her attempt at a joke fell flat, the humor lost in the vast emptiness of the room.

The questions kept coming, each one a gentle probe into her own insecurities, a reflection of the doubts that had started to cloud her usually unshakeable confidence. "Have I been too much? Too loud? Too... Pinkie?" For the first time, she considered the possibility that her boundless energy, her ceaseless joy, might have been overwhelming, even for her closest friends.

She thought about the invitations she had sent out, each one crafted with care and a dash of her signature exuberance. "Did they not feel the love I put into each word? Did they not see how much I wanted to share this happiness with them?"

In a moment of overwhelming sadness, the brightly colored noisemaker she'd been absently twirling between her hooves slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the floor with a sound far too loud in the oppressive silence of the room. Pinkie's gaze followed it down, watching as it rolled away, a vibrant reminder of the joy that had failed to take root. Suddenly, the walls seemed to close in on her, the festive decorations morphing into vivid taunts of her loneliness.

A sob caught in her throat, growing with intensity until it burst forth, a raw expression of her pain. Her hooves moved almost of their own accord, sweeping across the table and sending a cascade of cups and plates crashing to the ground. The sound of shattering hopes was deafening in the serene night, each break a symphony to her breaking heart.

She couldn't stand it anymore—the echoes of her dreams against the reality of her solitude. Turning on her heel, Pinkie dashed from the room, her sobs a tumultuous storm trailing behind her. The party room, once a place of laughter and light, now stood as a monument to her despair, the scattered remnants of her efforts lying in disarray.

Her room offered no solace, the familiar walls watching in silence as she flung herself onto her bed, burying her face into the pillow. The fabric muffled her cries, each tear a testament to the depths of her distress. She cried for the party that wasn't, for the friends who didn't come, for the happiness that seemed just out of reach. The pillow soaked up her tears, the only witness to her vulnerability in this moment of utter desolation.

Exhaustion eventually claimed her, pulling her into a restless sleep, her cheeks still wet with tears. The night passed slowly, the moon casting a gentle glow through her window, a silent sentinel over the pony who had tried so hard to spread joy, only to find herself adrift in sorrow.

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I wanted to write this story, and it's been sitting in my 'WIP, to proofread' folder for ages. It has been written with AI-assistance, i wanted to just get it off my chest as soon as possible rather than write, I guess.

I hope at least one of you enjoys it, but I would do appreciate any comments on it. People don't usually comment their thoughts on the stories I write.
It's ok if you hate it, I rather hear hate than nothingness.