Dear fans and casual readers of A Thief's Tale: Road To Redemption, I, as of like, two minutes ago, have five months worth of chapters in my backlog, and the next chapter isn't even slated to be posted until I have my long weekend off, which means that I'll most likely be adding another chapter to said backlog. Ride the hype train.

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Recently my laptop crashed. It crashed hard af and I had to factory reset it.

Guess who used Notepad for everything.

My salt levels are so high that I'm pissing salt, and it burns coming out. I'm about to make a fortune selling my white rain as coke to middle schoolers. Fucking salt levels so potent they'd die of dehydration after one rail. My cock salt is fentanyl-level deadly, Goddammit!

ARGHHH

UUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKK

I don't know how long this bout of minor block is going to last, but it's been going on since I got Light Sprint's Little Problem published. It's killed my momentum with A Thief's Tale so I'm going to extend my usual release schedule from every four days to a week to help me maintain a decent release schedule. It'll slow down further once I get a job, but as it is right now, I'm just not feeling it as much as I once was. There are still events and things that I have planned and I

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Results are often the boring part of an endeavor: they signify an end. The culmination of work, time, effort, and planning. Yet, once you arrive at the results it is over. What do you do next? Listen to the world provide you feedback? What for? So you can begin your next journey towards a result.
Another Journey.
Another Wait.
Another one.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

We bounce, between the real and the unreal, between the worlds nourished by unconcsious and those fed the impressions we decypher from the world at large. Clockworks threading towards their chime, is never heard. Every other tick, is mystery, every other tock, is waking. A blend of the natural and unreal. Yet, to a clock, all seconds chime the same.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

So I've finally found a place to start my novel, so here it goes: ArchiveOfOurOwn (Ao3) will be the home of Attuned, my latest work. So far I have the prologue and first chapter posted, but for the time being I'm holding onto two, three, and four. Backlog.

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Distractions are what makes up life. Down to its core. Joy, pleasure, sadness, grief. Whatever it is, it is something to do. And the times where we have nothing to do, is the time where we get closest to that fateful, dreadful moment. That which followed us from the beginning. What we are distracting ourselves from.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Stars are wondrous things, but you know all about them already. Will there ever be a time where you know more than you can learn? How many lifetimes would you have to experience? How many roads would you traverse, before you learned all you desired of life?
Funny thing, desire, we believe it is a sensation that will be satisfied once we acquire the object of our want. However, desire is ever present, it only changes what it projects upon.

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Long days, extensive nights, our experiences are warped by our minds, by the way we have experienced. The matters which mean little or a lot, or nothing it all, it still holds impact. Every step leads you close, uneven, pristine, or forgettable.

Happy Filthy Friday, and may you step into the new year in a stride to be remembered~.

Life is not a road. It is not a linear path to travel down, despite an uncountable myriad possibilities lay nestled between each edge of the path. We do not walk the road, we have been to every part of it, and yet experiencing it for the first time. We craft our own understating of reality through the lens of our ones perspective, a perspective molded by ourselves, and tinted by communion, relations, experiencing, the collective minds blotting out enough of the world that the negative space

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We also have a new story going up today, where Pinkie Pie herself appears to rescue a dear friend from the clutches of dreadful bureaucracy. Quite a filthy one this week, but lovely a goofy at the same time~.

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There are few's judgement which affects me more than my own. In the moment, that feels odd to claim. To some extent, the judgement imposed on me from others shapes the person that I am, to whatever extent I deem to listen to it. Though, that is just it, isn't it? In the end I am arbiter of my own judgement, of what I take to heart. What sticks. In addition, it is responsible for how I weigh my own shortcomings, and how long they remain, and remind. I have the greatest effect on myself, for in

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Tens of times have we met on the road,
each time we averted our gaze,
who has eyes for those going backwards?

Wish you a Happy Filthy Friday.

Ofolrodi is still going strong. Long live Ofolrodi.

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Today's story is chock full of girlfriend boyfriend teasing, and a ton of scat, toilet play, and waterspouts. So keep out, unless you deign to partake~.

Reduction comes for all, over the years, the word entropy rises to the forefront of the mind. Until one day it cannot be ignored. For some it comes faster than others. Those who have experienced it... it is their job to ease that sensations, for all that come after.

Happy Black Friday.

Once when I was younger, I looked upon the cities and streets. Eyes growing wide as I turned to my guardian: "But, to think of all this street, that takes so long to build."
"Yes." They responded.
"And look at all these buildings. It takes so much work, from so many people, just to raise a single building, and we have so many of them."
"Yes." They responded.
"Is it not... bewildering, to imagine how much work this all must have taken?"
"Yes." They responded.

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Sometimes I wish it wasn't time again. And the fact I do tells me a lot about myself, there is still a lot to learn, a lot to accept, a lot to make peace with. If I ever wake up, and wish I had but one more day, then eventually there will be no days left. So one day, I will wake up, and feel... content? Perhaps. Or perhaps when all preparations are fulfilled, there will just be emptiness.

Happy Birthday to me~.

I would like to be a worm. A carefree existence, where I eat as much dirt as my stomach can hold, and unload it all the same.
Where I remain hidden from view under a cool, safe rock.
Where if I were split in twain, I would have a new friend to nurture together.

The more I think of it, the more my life resembles that of a worm already.
We even bleed the same.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Thus the time of change comes, the world alters around us. Each step, each decision, we mould it. And it turn, it moulds our vessel. But, that is only what the world interacts with, our masks. There is something deeper, the roots that fuel the high crowns of verdant splendor, something our decisions merely scratch the surface to.
Yet, in time, even that can wear.

Happy Filthy Friday the 13th~.

Long nights and cool stars, the sounds of road frogs croaking, time passes us by and through it we venture. Some steps you have cherish, the ones you enjoyed the most, for their mark on you is fleeting, and on the road even more so.
It is the memory that entertains the goodwill of those steps, even if by time the memories erode and reshape. It does not matter if the step you remember were in reality as great as you conceived, all that matters is what it means to you.

Happy Filthy Friday~.