|Commission Pricing Guide for you would-be commissioners!|
Hearts and Hooves and JittersHearts and Hooves Day. Again.Hearts and Hooves and Jitters by CosmicWaltz
Fluttershy took a drink of water, hoping to calm herself down. Her heart was aflutter; not in excitement for this sentimental holiday, but in anxiety.
She turned back to the mirror, set up in the corner of her bedroom. Trembling, nervous eyes looked back.
Hate was a strong, mean word, and one she tried her best to never use, but she really, really, really disliked this holiday.
"Come on, Fluttershy," she coaxed, a stammer fighting to break into her timid voice. "You can do this. Y-you can do this."
Many ponies followed this very same routine today, goading up their courage. Where they were doing so to confession some grand proposal of romantic interest for another, she however was just trying to find the nerve to walk out her door.
"You can d-do this," she again told herself, breaking into a sweat. "You c-c-can..."
Every Hearts and Hooves Day since she was just a filly had been the same. She did her very best to never leave her house on this
|Across your face I see what you are. You wanna kill the sun, and blot out the stars. I know you; you're nothing. You're so small. You're f[yay!]kin' nothing. Nothing at all. The sun burns on. It reminds me of you. The slit wrists of the sky, bleeding into the blue. We twist beneath forever. Do you know what you've done? Ants in the afterbirth. Slugs under the sun. Yeah. I could not wake the dead man dreaming. Acid body murder at the late show. Mutate me and breed yourselves a savior. I could not kill the dead man screaming. Eat my dead c[yay!]k. Oh, yeah. Eat my dead c[yay!]k. Oh, yeah. I have fallen deep in love with the sky. Fragments of a sunbeam glaring on the kitchen knife. Leaves will fall as everything must follow. Kill your idol, come on, jump into the void. Eat my cold s[yay!]t. Everybody whispers where birds fall dead. I smell a yellow sickness churning inside your head. Wiping flecks of foam; twisting with rabies. Bloody we run through fields of dead daisies. How can I ever make you know what you've done? Ants in the afterbirth. Slugs under the sun. I have fallen in love with the sky. Fragments of a sunbeam glaring on the kitchen knife.<i>|