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~.

Sleep as you would under the stars, with body bare and legs apart.
hang if you will by the worlds handlebars, away from influences that would impart.
But wake each moment,
the world's not patient,
it comes to you with judgement insistent.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

There is a new pony artpack, summer edition, which I can not link to here, but if you find my other Septia accounts then you can find a link to the artpack~. A lot of artists making some fun content for it.

Sometimes, it does not go the way I wanted it to.
It still goes.
And while I can, it is how I react to the changes that determine my path. The path has but one end, until then, it only forks.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

Hey Everypony!

As promised, the New Year has brought with it a new story for all to enjoy!

The first chapter of Fallout Equestria: Clockwork Precision has already gone live and is ready for you to take a peek.

https://www.fimfiction.net/story/428522/fallout-equestria-clockwork-precision

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Big scene below the break.

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"You're joking." Zoom put her hands in her hooves. Every pore oozed contempt. "Please tell me you're joking."

"You didn't get weird about me liking sneakers. Why are all bent outta shape about this?"

She leveled a lazer beam gaze squarely at Thunder's forehead. "Because, dummy, most people don't join the Zephyr guards because they want to wear the funny hat."

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I rest in the shadow of a young, sprig tree. Its branches reach just past the tip of my boot. The air here is crisp, freshly brewed and vented, by the same aamaritan providing cloak from the sun. Yet all around it stand grander trees, with grander branches, soaking up sun, sighing cool air. My tree is dwarfed, in the company of the ageless, those who savour the same world, drink the same atmosphere, and yet are a distance away, greater than any journey. I may never know the experiences of a

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Can progress stand as a function of effort and fuel? There are more variables, certainly. Though despite how much effort you might have, without fuel there is nothing. Then again, if there is an abundance of fuel, far above that of the effort, then we run into diminishing returns. One can only expend so much, and one can only consume so much.
So then it is again a balance, a tug of how much one can achieve, and the resources needed to accomplish one's goals.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Days pass, the campfire is lit. Sparks fly and stories are told, knowledge shared and wisdom grows. Age and knowledge cultivates into the cornerstone of civilization. Despite the stories being told, for the most parts, were those unconcerned with worldly events. All were important, both in their own way and their contribution, yet at the moment it was a way of spreading joy between neighbors.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Hey hey! Been a while.
Just wanted to say I've been going through things as of recent (finding employment, family health issues, etc.). As soon as things get settled over here, I might be back with a new story. Been thinking of writing something involving mouth play. Will get back to you all when I have a concrete idea.

Til next time, peace!

Time goes by, hands turn wrinkled with experience. What do we see in those wrinkles? Seldom clean, as they forge they open the gates for dust, dirt, and grime to nestle their way inside and clog every crack. It goes too far to wash out completely, yet without the dirt, the wrinkles themselves would be made harder to distinguish. Through hardship, our experiences are defined.

Happy FIlthy Friday~.

Hey everyone! I just wanted to let you all know that I have started my next semi-longform project, and its posted over on Archive of Our Own. It's going to be a novella-length fic set in the She-Ra universe called "Claw Marks."

Claw Marks

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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~.

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~.

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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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~.

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~.

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~.

When time slows to a crawl,
where to can you go at all?
If every moments last a life,
when is there time for fun and vice?
Whence hours die and seconds come to rest,
You will discover your patience put to the test.

Happy Vore Day~.