Anonymous Wants to Be Hardcore, But Twilight Won’t Let Him
By IceMan

>Day α, a member of a complete ordered field, in Equestria.
>You are Anonymous, and you have grown rather bored of the saccharine peaceful life in Equestria.
>Back home, you used to ride dirt bikes, play electric guitar, and do all sorts of awesome shit all the time.
>But here it’s always a boring routine: wake up, have breakfast, lounge around for a bit and have Twilight experiment on you, help fix friendship problems with common sense and logic, come home, sleep, rinse and repeat.
>It’s time to get back to your roots.
>You’ve gone out to a local guitar shop and picked up an electric guitar that you had fashioned for you with some of your spending money from Twilight without her knowledge, along with an amp.
>You also put up a few flyers at some of the local bars asking for amateur musicians to form a band with and, after you got a few responses, you picked a time when you knew Twilight would be out shopping.
>She always held herself to a particular, predictable routine, and you were suspecting that it was bleeding into your life.
>Heading down to the basement of Twilight’s tree and set up for your jam session, you start thinking of the first tune you want your new band to play.
>Just then, the Purple Party Pooper promenades down the flight of preposterously perilous steps, no doubt pondering some problematic predicament concerning friendship.
>Shit.
>She must have finished her errands early.
>She takes one look at your setup and shouts, “Anonymous, what in Celestia’s non-existant beard are you doing?”
>She always loved to cramp your style like that.
“I’m hosting my band here for practice tonight,” you groan.
>Twilight harumphs.
>“Anonymous, loud music is incredibly damaging to your ears. You really shouldn’t –”
“Pshsht, whatever. Don’t be a square, Twilight.”
>“I’m not a square! I’m just – I’m just worried about your safety, that’s all.”
“I’m being perfectly safe. You have nothing to worry about.”
>You hear a knock at the door, presumably your fellow band mates.
“I’ll go get that,” you say.
>“I’ll get it!” you hear Spike yell from upstairs.
>“No, I will,” Twilight replies. “I want to meet your bandmates. You stay down here and unplug all this.”
“What?!”
>Goddammit.
“Twilight, I am a 21-year-old human being, I am perfectly capable of –”
>She was already walking upstairs, oblivious to your complaints.
“Goddammit!” you curse.
“Hey! No bad language!” Twilight cries back.
>You scowl and kick one of your amps.
>It falls over, crushing your toe.
>A single tear rolls down your face.
>Twilight walks back down into the basement.
>“Anonymous, what did I tell you about inviting strangers to our home?” she asks.
“Arrrrrrgh!” is all you can reply.
>“Those people could have been thieves. Certainly looked like it.”
“That was my band! They were legit!” you manage to get out through the pain.
>“Maybe you should’ve had the Cutie Mark Crusaders play with you. I know they love music!”
“Arrrrrrrrrrrrgh! I am 21 fucking years old Twilight! I don’t play music for fucking children! I play fucking hard rock!”
>“Well, let’s get this cleaned up then. No music today, Anonymous.”
>She accidentally moves one of the microphones too close to one of the speakers.
>A deafening screech reverberates through the room.
>Twilight plugs her ears with magic, but you take the full brunt of the sonic blast.
>You pry the speaker from your foot and hobble over to the mic, moving it away.
>Your hearing finally came back after two weeks.
>The broken toes took six weeks to heal.
>The shame lasts forever.

>Day β, a member of any Noetherian valuation ring that is either a field or a discrete valuation ring, in Equestria.
>Now that the wounds from your last hardcore exercise have healed, it’s time for some dirt biking.
>You race up and down the streets of Ponyville, scaring the citizenry as you almost collide with them at high speed, only to swerve out of the way.
>Though this universe has blessed you with a vehicle powered by internal combustion, it has not blessed you with head protection.
>Not that you care.
>That only makes it more extreme, with a capital X.
>You were never good at spelling.
>You’ve finally managed to get a house out of Twilight’s prying eyes, so you’ve been amping up the extremitude lately.
>Last night you totally pwned some noobs in Colt of Duty, and now you’re out racing through the streets on your sick wheels with all the badass colts of the city watching.
>Your about to go over a nasty jump and get some sick air, do a flip, and stick the landing.
>You’re totally being hardcore, and there’s nobody around to –
>Twilight suddenly pulls up alongside you and gives you the largest skeptical raised eyebrow you’ve ever seen.
>She has wings now.
>Must have happened when you were in the hospital.
>Anyways, she’s now pulling a consistent 30 km/h with those babies, easily matching your bike, and dragging her piercing gaze with her.
>She suddenly accelerates and pulls in front of you, then stops.
“Get out of the way!” you yell.
>You slam on the breaks, sending you careening over the handlebars and into the dirt.
>You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead region.
>“Anonymous, what did I tell you about doing dangerous things?”
“I live on my own now! You’re not my fucking mom! I’m a grown fucking man and I won’t take this fucking bullshit!”
>“Don’t make me wash out your mouth with soap, young man! Just because you live on your own doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned for your safety.”
>You feel wetness running down your forehead and your upper lip. 
“I think my fucking nose is broken. Why the fuck did you get in the way?”
>“I was trying to protect you!”
“Well I was trying to be hardcore! Fuck!”
>“I don’t care what you were trying to do. Riding around on this loud and dangerous machines can only lead to you getting hurt, as you already have. Now come on. Let me take you to the hospital.”
>All the colts are laughing.
>You can hear it.
>Even the children are laughing at you.
>And the babes.
>The babes are laughing at you.
>I mean, they’re horse babes and all, but they’re still babes.
>And they’re laughing at you.
“Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!”
>The scratches took two weeks to heal.
>Your nose took six weeks to heal.
>The shame lasts forever.

>Day e^(-πi) in Equestria.
>Today’s the day.
>You’re going full hardcore now.
>Sky diving.
>From Cloudsdale.
>With Rainbow Dash.
>Twilight can’t possibly stop you.
>One of her best friends is with you.
>You strap on your goggles and get ready to make the leap.
“You ready?” you call to Dash.
>She gives you the best thumbs up she can give with no digits.
“Alright, jump in three, two, one, jum-”
>“Anonymous J. Unknown, stop this insanity at once!”
>God fucking dammit.
>What the fuck is she doing here?
>How the fuck did she find you?
>Dash has already jumped.
>You have to jump after her.
>You ignore the pleadings of the purple bitch horse and launch yourself into the air.
>Just gotta pull that parachute in five seconds.
>Yes, the thrill of the rushing air, the speeding winds, the jaw-dropping heights.
>So hardcore.
>You can’t feel it at all.
>Why can’t you feel it?
>Why aren’t you falling?
>You open your eyes to see a purple aura surrounding your spread-eagle body.
“Let me go!”
>“No, you’re going to hurt yourself!”
“Haven’t you noticed that every single fucking time you try to stop me from hurting myself I only end up getting more hurt already?”
>“I don’t care! And I can’t hold you much longer! Pull yourself back up.”
>You roll yourself over in your suspended free fall to see if you can even reach the clouds.
>You can’t.
“I can’t reach. You have to let me go!”
>Twilight hesitates for only a moment, but it’s just enough time to send you plummeting towards the ground.
>Back first.
>You feebly attempt to flip yourself over.
>You see a purple dot getting closer; Twilight’s trying to rescue you with her new wings.
>She hovers a few feet above you and attempts to grab you with her magic.
>You finally manage to roll over, about 500 meters from the ground and close to terminal velocity.
>You pull your ripcord and begin to decelerate.
>Twilight finally gets you with a spell, but only manages to grab your parachute pack.
>The fluttering cloth of the chute smacks her in the face, blinding and defocusing her.
>The magical energy intensifies, burning the parachute chords.
>You’re accelerating again.
>50 meters from the ground.
>You broke everything that time.
>Somehow, you managed not to die.
>Did I mention the entire town was watching your stunt?
>The shame lasts a lifetime. 

>Day the square of two sides of an isosceles triangle is the equal to the square of the longest side.
>You’re going to be so hardcore this time.
>You’ve got some razor blades, you’ve died your hair black, you’ve done everything.
>Past hardcore Anon was a phony.
>Now you’re going full hardcore.
>With Slayer blaring in the background, you get ready to really feel for the first time.
>You slowly bring the tiny square of sharpened steel to your wrist, like a samurai about to commit seppuku for the second time.
>Just then, Twilight barges in.
>“Anonymous, my purple-sense told me you were in danger!”
>You fumble with the razor and drop it.
>It cuts off your dick.

>Day AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH in AAAAAAAAAAAAH
>AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
>AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
>AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
>AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
>HARDCORE
>GOTTA BE HARDCORE
>LIKE AN IRON BALL
>HARDCORE
>AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
>Hardcore screamo metal.
>Somehow nothing bad happens this time.
>Huh.

>Day Poincare Theorem in Equestria.
“I’m gonna do it, Twilight. I’ve gotta fucking do it. I won’t be hardcore if I don’t do this!”
>“Anonymous, I don’t even know what this hardcore thing is, but I don’t want you to be it. We’re your friends and we love you.”
“Love is worthless. Friendship is a joke. There is only the hardcore and the – uh – not… hardcore. Fuck you.”
>You cock the gun back and stick it in your mouth.
“First me, then you.”
>“What? Anonymous, you can’t kill me if you’re –”
“I WAS DEAD SINCE THE DAY I WAS BORN!”
>“You’re not deep! This isn’t hardcore anymore!”
“EVERYTHING I DO MUST BE HARDCORE! I WILL RISE FROM THE ASHES OF DEATH AND MURDER EVERYONE! THEN I WILL BE HARDCORE!”
>“Anonymous, I won’t let you be hardcore!”
>You pull the trigger, and enter Valhalla.

>“Well, it looks like Anonymous is going to make a full recovery. It’s amazing what the magic of friendship can do to fix even total brain and organ failure leading to a coma, cancer, and turbo-AIDS! And penis regrowth too! Gee golly whizz, that thing's enormous!” the doctor says.
“I’m truly impressed, doc. And I think I learned my lesson. Being hardcore isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes it’s best just to live a quiet life, without too much excitement. I don’t need to follow some lame trend trying to look cool. I should just be myself.”
>“Aw, that’s sweet, Anon,” Twilight says. “It looks like you’ve learned a great deal in the past few months.”
“Yeah, but you know what, Twilight?”
>“What?”
“You’re a fucking faggot.”
>You leap out of bed and jump out the window with a backflip, showering the ground in glass.
>You run through the streets of Ponyville, fully nude, screaming the one mantra you’ve always believed in.
“HARDCORE!”