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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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~.

Another week going by, like a trailer on the highway of existence.
would you ever think to hick-hike when you do not have a car? Or perhaps you peruse existence on a bike, taking in the scenery?

Do you ever stop to think of those who have to walk? Those who choose to walk?
It is a tough road to tread, but they will stay on it longer.

Effort and hard work pays off, and the journey is the goal.

Happy Philosophical Phriday.

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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Life does not have to be all misfortune, but you aren't getting it without effort. Be it as little as the strength to open your eyes. In seeing both fortune and less, contrast is built. Through contrast we can view the world in new ways, and work to change it for the better. Though, sometimes it is not your own eyes which you have to see through.

Happy Friday the 13th~.

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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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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Perhaps what awaits us is pleasant? A notion often dismissed by those who have thought deep on the topic. It grows all the more pleasant, the less we know about it. Often, we can see things up, but we only notice the bottom, when it is clearly labeled. How much do we have provide?

Happy Filthy Friday of Matte Month~.

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~.

Some words hold power in the same way the unknown does. I can take comfort in words, every day I see them, they imprint a calm in the knowledge I am aware what each one means. That is, until posed against certain, particular compositions of letters.

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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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Today is rather quiet, there is too much going on.
Funny how that works, is it not?

With enough changes to leave ordinary life a juggling struggle, it is uncertain if it will be kept steady, or if we will eventually lost balance.

Until then, enjoy Filthy Friday on the other profiles with Stories, and have a fantastic weekend, one and all~.

Today we have a new story coming up, how will Twilight react when all her friends have shrunken

Vision blotted by tears, the window to the soul grows dim. It shields the self in a bubble, reflecting ever inwards to offer a moment of respite. Perhaps it shuts out the world for a moment, to pretend nothing else exists. But, it is in the world that the self is made. However painful it becomes, eventually we blink.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Off in the distance,
The whistle of a kettle,
Receding further...

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Wish you well, Pikamee.

Today we continue the Throne Chronicles. With so many seats met before, how will this one hold for the changeling ambassador? Will they rise above, or be flushed down the drain.
Check out the story below.

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There is this phenomenon, where what an artist puts the least amount of time and effort in, compared to the rest of their works, will be what gathered the most attention. If it received 20% of the work, it receives 80% of the attention. Some say it is close enough to be likened to mere confirmation bias, you see the times an artist has a catalogue of work they are proud with - less so the further back you go - but what got them where they are is in comparison, small, inconsistent, reductive...

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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~.

It is a funny thing, because I haven't thought about it much. That thing which many crave, to which so much prose is drafted, to which so many tunes are sung. Perhaps it has been easier to not think about it. Perhaps it is something I desire, despite the fact I have not sought it. There is a nagging sensation in my mind, asking me if I can truly be satisfied without it. The answer has always been foregone for me. But, perhaps it is just foreign to me. Unlike so many others, who claim: we're no

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