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Colored-sketch TFTG commission for YellowCoat! Page 2 of 6.
Danny’s temper cooled quickly. It wouldn’t be the first time someone messed with his chat: it may create a bit of a setback on his planned schedule of events, but sometimes it could also kept the stream viewers somewhat entertained. Still, it wouldn’t do well for things to derail for too long, so he quietly prodded the mods into finding out how to take down the intrusive poll while he looked at its options.
“Rainbow Dash, Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie… and Fluttershy, the one that’s leading.” Chat was filling with “lol wut,” “best pony,” “worst pony,” “waifu plz,” and other unhelpful things. Dragging his eyes away from the embodiement of chaos, Danny consulted something much more helpful: google search.
His left hand curled into a fist. Girly little ponies from a little girl’s show. Oh, someone thought they were funny, did they? Trying to tie him to little girl things.
He took a breath and rolled his eyes. It wouldn’t do to get pissed off. Obviously it was a prank: he wasn’t going to feed the troll who did it. As his temper quickly cooled back to normal again, he tried to uncurl his hand.
It wouldn’t uncurl. A cramp? I put more force into moving his hand… but it didn’t want to move the way he was used to. The fingertips felt numb, too. Glancing down, Danny’s eyes reported something his brain failed to acknowledge.
He blinked. Brain blinked back. Eyes blinked again. Brain clicked: yellow fur. Mishapen hand. Slowly at first, one part of the brain started feeding the panic furnace some coal to warm things up a bit while another part brought cognition up to speed. Once everything was set in motion, this organ which marked the culmination of successful human evolution spat out the highest grade of mental performance possible for the given situation:
A very dim “What the-” followed by a very loud…
Danny’s temper cooled quickly. It wouldn’t be the first time someone messed with his chat: it may create a bit of a setback on his planned schedule of events, but sometimes it could also kept the stream viewers somewhat entertained. Still, it wouldn’t do well for things to derail for too long, so he quietly prodded the mods into finding out how to take down the intrusive poll while he looked at its options.
“Rainbow Dash, Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie… and Fluttershy, the one that’s leading.” Chat was filling with “lol wut,” “best pony,” “worst pony,” “waifu plz,” and other unhelpful things. Dragging his eyes away from the embodiement of chaos, Danny consulted something much more helpful: google search.
His left hand curled into a fist. Girly little ponies from a little girl’s show. Oh, someone thought they were funny, did they? Trying to tie him to little girl things.
He took a breath and rolled his eyes. It wouldn’t do to get pissed off. Obviously it was a prank: he wasn’t going to feed the troll who did it. As his temper quickly cooled back to normal again, he tried to uncurl his hand.
It wouldn’t uncurl. A cramp? I put more force into moving his hand… but it didn’t want to move the way he was used to. The fingertips felt numb, too. Glancing down, Danny’s eyes reported something his brain failed to acknowledge.
He blinked. Brain blinked back. Eyes blinked again. Brain clicked: yellow fur. Mishapen hand. Slowly at first, one part of the brain started feeding the panic furnace some coal to warm things up a bit while another part brought cognition up to speed. Once everything was set in motion, this organ which marked the culmination of successful human evolution spat out the highest grade of mental performance possible for the given situation:
A very dim “What the-” followed by a very loud…
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