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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Whelp, looks like I changed my name to "HybridSoldier"

Pretty cool, right??

Anyway, I posted a new chapter of "Stick 'N Move"! Check it out here!

And, oh yeah, still thinking of my new story.

Caio!

TComing Home & Leaving With More

• MLP: FiM
• Romance
• Drama
• Slice of Life

After six months living in faraway Griffonstone, Rainbow Dash returns to Sweet Apple Acres to reunite with a friend she still harbours intense feelings for.

• Sex
• Rainbow Dash
• Applejack
• Rarity

HapHazred · 6k words  ·  98  9 · 1.7k views

Howdy howdy. I've gotten a new story up, written for Krazy's Warm and Fuzzy Feelings event, and I'm predictably here to hype it up a bit.

[page-break]

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But I also have a new story for you! I wrote it on my third day of quarantine. Which is, uh, today.

Please stay safe. This is a threat.

-Icy

Alrighty, since this may or may not end up revealing some major plot points for once the reboot is launched, I'm gonna put all of this behind a page break. Click "read more" to read more. :P

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While threading the road of life, whether in the warm or cold grey light, we will pick up luggage; ballast we carry with us, that weigh us down.
As time goes on, it grows. Guilt, anxiety, and other ailments. Carried for too long, and their scent will grow rotten. But by that point we do not notice its smell, we are used to it.
It is only when we acknowledge that we carry this luggage, that we can discard it. While the scent will linger, the journey will be lighter.

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For how long can you claim a role in the story?
If your significance declines and you see the others carry on, how long do you convince yourself that you are still important. Your presence has value.
For how many times do you see them require less and less, and your arguments fall shallow on ears twisted away from your words.
Surely, your presence has value...
It surely does, but perhaps in your story, instead of theirs.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

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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Restraint is a skill one learns. Restraint remains a constant through a life, a hidden variable to all. When young, exploring what is hidden brings the greatest adventures. Thus, we push our capabilities, until we reach the limits and find the restraints. However, then we might just try again. A new angle, another method, testing the limits and surpassing them. With age comes wisdom, and one can distinguish ones restraints. Thus, we do not test them, we merely accept them. Despite their nature

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Hello FimFiction Users,

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I saw them far away, they did not consider me at first. I had seen such many times, and they became but a fleeting image passing the balcony of my senses.
Yet, something curious happened: they saw me.
I wasn't prepared for this, why would I be? I had seen them days on end, and we had both carried on. I still would, if not for the gaze that met me. They made me stop, they made me think, to consider them. As I imagined, they considered me.

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Well, I did it. Now I'm telling you my followers and maybe outside that I am rewriting my story Smooth Criminal and the first chapter is published today in August 26, 2019.

I made a blog about this last week or something.

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What trouble us can easily stack up, and when you have your gaze aimed forwards, you miss the luggage which weigh you down. However, many of us know it is there, we simply tell ourselves that we can handle it.
For some weights this is true, but if we use the excuse enough, soon we pick up and carry everything, unable to leave any worries behind us.
Acknowledge your weights, and they can be lifted.

Wish you all a Fun Filthy Friday~.

For the Summer Sin Celebration. For those of you unfamiliar with it, participating in it means you’re basically part of a story exchange; given an assignment to write someone else’s story request and keep it of limited length. This was the result of AJA’s assignment:

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On hills of grass, rolling beneath the stampede of hooves, they come marching. Strangers to each other, but nonetheless siblings. For they were all moving the same direction, clutching the same goal in their chests. The sun fried them in heat, but they moved on. Sweat drooped down their sides, but they moved on. Eyes glanced backwards...
But could they move on, when what had brought them together, was now chasing them out?

Happy Filthy Friday.

As instruments are brought to tune,
An ear I'd ask to lend,
to hear a verse o' geist of fortune,
and its friend.

Avoided are its path and so to is its wake,
its passage snuffs out candlelight,
so who would ever make,
an offer of respite?

A being so benevolent extending friendship's bond,
its eyes saw through the suffering veil,
and while the geist its friend was fond,
misfortune did entail.

Despite the stay of respite lasting night and day,

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So! I have a story coming out this next Friday (July 2nd) called The Opening Act and I'm actually super excited about it.

Mind if I tell you a bit about it?

Cool. Read on then!

First things first: What is the story about?

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There is a pleasure to action, a thrill and eager to achieve, doubt and uncertainty in the moment, followed by a grand elation upon its success.
Yet, I find myself treasuring, inaction. There is a luxury to allow yourself respite. Perhaps savouring an anticipation, for something waiting ahead. In those moments, where I have done nothing, and not required to do anything, have I been happy?
Or, do I cherish nothing, all the more, when there is something else, that should be done?

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What if I existed in place of one of my fore mothers? How would the sensations I feel today, translate to that of a creature in the dawn of life? Minds, senses, and out interpretation of ourselves in the whole of the world has changed dramatically again and again. What of me, as I am now, would exist back then? Perhaps, only the basics. Perhaps, some aspects only coincide tangentially to what I might have experienced. Perhaps, nothing.

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