♠ hated by @chickenJockey
⛧your opinion is invaluable 'chickenJockey'. #sarcastic⛧
I think this is the start O̶f a beautiful frienD̶ship.
The floor trembles beneath my hooves. Not from thunder. Not from a storm. From them. The line moves forward one reluctant step at a time. Iron rails press against my sides. The air tastes wrong here. Sharp. Bitter. Like old metal and fear baked into concrete. The others know. No one taught us. No one had to. The old cow ahead of me hasn't made a sound for hours. She simply stares forward with wide, glassy eyes, watching whatever waits around the corner. Every so often she shivers. Every so often the line moves. And she moves with it. I try not to. The gate behind me slams shut. The sound echoes through my bones. I remember grass. I remember sunlight warming my back. I remember rain. Mud. The buzzing of flies. Small things. Beautiful things. They feel impossibly far away now. A memory from another creature's life. The corridor narrows. The smell grows stronger. The old cow disappears around the bend. For a moment there is silence. Then a noise. A mechanical hiss. A heavy thud. And nothing. The line moves again. Something ancient and animal inside me begins to scream. Not with sound. With certainty. This is the end. Not a predator's chase. Not a wolf's teeth. No chance to run. No struggle beneath the stars. Just walls. Just machinery. Just inevitability. The humans stand beyond the rails, their faces unreadable. To them we are numbers moving down a ledger. Weight. Inventory. The line moves. The corner approaches. My legs shake. I don't want to see what waits there. Yet I already know. The old cow knew. The calf that vanished last season knew. Every frightened eye in this corridor knows. The world grows smaller with every step. The sky is gone. The grass is gone. Soon, I will be gone too. The line moves forward. And so do I. Because there is nowhere else left to go.
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
how do u think she had u in the first place lolmao
guess it's just in my fucking bLood to hurt everybody. ........ *8Lood. whatever. i don't care anymore.
i hate this. i hate this. i hate this. it was all a lie it was all a fucking lie
FUCK IT. im putting @starstuddedSalticid on blast. https://imgchest.com/p/9249eza5myn fuck her 4ever.
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i just wanna wake Up and have this b a dream. U~@ and not have my FUCKING EMOTICON GET ALL- WHY DO THE ~@ LINK 2GETHER LIKE THAT WHY DOES idfc. i dont FUCKING care. GUESS I DONT HAVE A KISMESIS ANYMORE.
gr8 job, ana. fuck uP the one good thing you've got going.
im sorry caddie #vague #butnotreaLLy
==> Hmmm. Dirk + Knife sounds funny. omg omg omg ICK EW UGH i also got like, a knife with ai?? i guess?? UGH #livesgrubbing https://file.garden/ZjWeSXBkUxBjUmEk/roxmspfa10.png ==> (Type in comments.)
Would you still love me if I was a foodborne pathogen????
i dunno miss meddLemare! its fine. im just fucking with you.
i think you will find i am the suckiest mom there is!
fucked up! couldnt be me, sorry kiddo!
oh wow are you my daughter? as in, im raising you like a lusus??
I THINK WE JUST B3CAME [[Friend Request Accepted]]!!
fuck horses.
I am never putting my trust in a horse again. Cats only.
Horses cannot be trusted to act intelligently or with any will. They probably don't know the basics of safe cracking.
Chapter 8 Homeless [“What are they doing here?” Dirk muttered to himself. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.” He grabbed the thin purple book from his pocket, held it close to his face, and began frantically leafing through it. Acorn was pretty much going apeshit at the sight of Anna. Just freaking the fuck out. As ponies are wont to do. Christ, he was just… he was all over the place. Jesus. Fuckin’ ponies, man. Jeanne Betancourt, accustomed to such pony-related fuckery, managed to circumvent Acorn’s freakout and gingerly approached the Pony Pals, as if uncertain that it was really them. Minos just sat there, watching, shitting at a glacial pace. He knew that now was the time to listen. Because he, like almost everyone else there, had no idea what the fuck was going on. “Is it really you?” Jeanne Betancourt asked as she reached the girls. “I can’t believe I finally get to meet you.” “And who the fuck are you, exactly?” Anna said, poking an accusatory finger at Betancourt’s chest. Pam and Pawnee stood behind Anna on either side and crossed their arms to help Anna look like a maximum badass. And she did. Oh, she did. “You are Anna Harley, yes?” Betancourt said. “And you two—” she glanced at the other girls and gave them a quick wave “—are Pam and Lulu. The three of you live in Wiggins (which is a great name for a town) and go on all sorts of fun adventures with your ponies. And you—Anna? Anna, oh my god, are you all right?” The instant Jeanne Betancourt had said “Lulu,” Anna’s eyes had gone pure white, and she now slowly toppled to the ground. Pam immediately knelt at her side. “Anna!” she shouted, shaking her friend by both shoulders. “Don’t you dare die again. Don’t you fucking dare!” Pam rained a shower of tears and blows onto Anna’s chest from her eyes and fists respectively. “Anna, you son of a bitch, you can’t do this to me!”] #DetectivePony
I know what you are. https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/98cc5140ba96.jpg
facetious is what youd call some doe eyed little british street urchin like oi guv course the black lung boys are the most trustwoithy crew this side of sussex and he turns around and gives a little wink this is why england sucks ass and why we totally demolished them that one time america was basically going great and wouldve just kept going up if its shit didnt get wrecked by meteors