Wash your hands for 30 seconds.

To seek closure, to complete what has been started and connect the pieces of a puzzle, a goal which to many are inherent. There is a joy to discovery, heightened by said discovery's need. To hunt is to discover and conquer sources of sustenance, a necessity. Once closure has been found in a hunt, we are left with the spoils. A hunt gratifies mind and body, the spoils sates ones needs. But a puzzle, has less to offer.

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They say the spirits whisper,
on cold days by the fountain,
about a lonesome spirit wisher,
their existence debated, uncertain.

She once held claims of her own,
and many did she berate,
but now in the dump she's thrown,
those who believe it, do relate.

But the whispers aren't lasting,
their memories... are passing.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Sometimes days take too long to process. And I start going over it in my head again and again, until it is long into the next day, and there is even more to digest. Eventually there is so much I power down, and reset to a blank slate to catch up with myself. But then it happens again.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Once devoted, now deceased. And yet devotion outlives the devoted, as it does the cause. There is safety in the sensation, the belief of purpose and belonging, stronger than that of words or motivation.
It forges and tempers effort, though has long since lost the control over its subjects.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

I like today's story. It has a buffalo in it.
And was part of an early Pony Vore art pack, which is now made available.

Loss can take away more than what was ever there, a it makes you see what was always there, and how much more of it you could be bereft of. It feels like nothing can add to what was erased. And in a way it true. You can only fit so much through a square hole.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

There are some people with which there is no compromise. Your reason or logic incompatible with theirs. Where every word lies upon a golsilver scale, and as soon as it begins to tip against them, they accuse you. At times, I have to remind myself, of how much I a relationshi weighs on me, and if I should leave the scale unattended, to gather dust.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

TKilling Me Softly

• MLP: FiM
• Romance
• Comedy
• Drama

Starlight Glimmer: the best thing to ever happen to me. She's by my side through thick & thin, & whatever hardships we face, we always face together. She's truly an amazing friend. But I want to be more than just friends. Tonight, I say those 3 words

• Profanity
• Twilight
• Trixie
• Starlight Glimmer

Super Trampoline · 6.6k words  ·  76  6 · 1.3k views

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I wrote a new story.

It isn't much, and it's more just an expansion of a What If chapter that I've added some more lore and detail to.

But it's at least a semblance of what I had planned for Christmas.

As always, thank you for reading.

Hey folks! MagicalPony2099 here!

This is a continuation of this blog back on December 3, 2023.

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Ooo, I want to brew the stock of life, a bullion so fair,
for despite being full of strife, inside the bones of mares
you find marrow, and juices, and tasty treats galore,
if you let it simmer these fuses, have your patrons knocked to the floor~.
Ooo, I want to brew the stock of life, this task's myself I have wrought,
for even a single speck of trite... would spoil the whole broth.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Passion demands sacrifice. Sacrifice which makes itself known in time, investments, or devotion. They are core to passion, for passion is not static, passion exists in the moment it is paid tribute to.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

“Alright, everything’s fine. Everything’s just fine. We totally didn’t get swallowed up by some all-consuming bubble just now! Nothing terrible or crazy has happened, and everything is just. Fine. Just…”

Lisa’s quiet muttering jolted Zoey from her daze. She blinked, looking down at her hands.

No blood.

That was the weirdest daydream ever. Like, ever ever.

“Lisa?” Zoey hopped off her stool, kneeling down beside her babysitter. “Is something wrong?”

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The 11th Anniversary is here for "Elements Change the Dark Hearts"! It's time for the real adventure to begin, where the purpose of the Dark Hearts will finally be fully realized. It's time for...

Thoughts malign affect those close,
expression wry and worries rose.
Infectious is the thought of ill,
inviting by mystery and promise of thrill.
Soon one thought has turned for the worst,
and the subject in question, afflicted and cursed.

Wishing you all a Happy Filthy Friday~.

I don't like measuring my progress in years, because it starts to feel too short, a year is such a large span of time, we have a double digit of them in a life, and to think I spent so much of that without a clear purpose, is scary. Thankfully, it is easier to forget than to think.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Will a scrape heal has it still a scab? Certainly so. The scab can shield the wounded area as it mends. And yet, scabs have a ceratin odd air to them, and many rather have it removed. Without the scab, a scrape still heals. At times exposure to the outside elements is what mends, in others the clear seclusion protects. It depends how deep the issues go.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

There was a little circuit man,
Welded from the scraps of cards.
They built up themselves as a handy man,
Improving to escape the junkyard.

But all time spent upgrading,
oblivious to his trading,
the times which he could cherish,
for the date to which he'd perish.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

Where does everything go when there is too much of it?
Some articles of life appears easier to ignore the larger of a quantity there is. Perhaps it relates to the forest, stocked with trees and yet we rarely pay attention to particular trunks. Would then the best way to ignore something, to expose yourself to it, until it was no longer part of your conscious intake?
Perhaps that is a way addiction starts.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Keep on the lookout for a new artpack.

Pony month was casual fun. There will still be pony content, especially when it is commissioned.
I have gone back to look through several stories, and each time I see someone sharing their joy about my stories, I feel that much happier to continue writing.

~ ~ ~

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When do trees become a forest? Can we put it to a number? Perhaps it i when they stop being individuals and start to become a pattern. Patterns we intersexual, we interpret, we match and decipher, though we just as easily look past it. When the chaos grows too strong, we ignore it.
Until such a time, we find ourselves lost in a forest, unable to recall the trees we passed on the way in.

Happy clean Filthy Friday~.