As it says, I'm sadly a bit behind in my proofing and so until further notice I'm afraid I can't accept any stories from new authors. My current authors can still send me stuff though.
As some of you may know, the Tumblr 'Thirty Minute Pony Stories' recently started up by several well-respected poni authors required you to spend no more than the eponymous period of time on writing a short story based around whatever prompt the mods give out. I missed the first two but was up and around when the third was posted, which was:
'Twilight is grievously injured and only Pinkie Pie can save her.'
Right then, Zaiker42 has in his infinite wisdom decided to tag me, so now you get to read me wittering on.
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Rules:
1. You must post the rules.
2. Each person must post 5 things about themselves in their journal.
3. Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post, and create eleven new questions for the people you tag to answer.
4. You have to choose 11 people to tag and post their icons on your journal.
Hey, hey you. Stay awhile, and listen!
We all know Twilight is best pony, right? I'm glad you agree. Especially you, AwesomeSauce. Well, it's also true that Twilight is most desired pony. Exactly! Just what we all suspected. Oh sure, some of your ponies get involved in love triangles and the like, but Twilight knows her mathematics and when she gets going, she gets into love quadrilaterals, yo.
It is the proudest day of his life thus far.
The young stallion, only a few years out of his colthood, kneels on the bottom step of a dais, his head bowed. To either side of him his pose is mirrored by around a dozen others – mares and stallions, earth ponies and unicorns and pegasi.
It is a humble repast, the barest swatch of grass from a lush tuft of greenery on the riverbank. For all that, it tastes sweeter and more succulent than a thousand lavishly prepared meals and the mare stamps her forehooves in the damp soil as the taste both delights and overwhelms her taste buds. The dark and loamy earth crumbles beneath her bare hooves, the long grass beside it tickling her fetlocks as it swishes against her coat. Little droplets of dew cling to her fur and she arches her neck