Stuck in a nutshell,
riding on a rut-o-hell,
with a wingless angel and a witless thief,
a journey to surpass the limits of belief.
For what can expect the ones lacking expectations?

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~

The roly-poly has a lot figured out. This Graymaiden stays protected, living in the places other do not look for in places shielded from sight. Whole societies spring up under rocks and moss. Even when they are found, their last defense is rolling together, curling up into a ball of security, a personal safe haven at the cost of being cut off from the rest of the world. Their whole life follows that plan, and they have survived this long.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

What lie does one lead to impress oneself? Does it coincide with one which is desirable to others as well? Or are the two forces in opposition to one another?
How far does cooperation get you, when you spend more than you receive?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Today we do not have a new story, but it should be coming up next week~.
And it is fun one~. It has some of the funnest ponies out there.

But that is for later.
For now, you mares enjoy your grass, I am gonna go get high on life.

Have a pleasant Filthy Friday~.

Glad to have been back and posted a bit more on here lately~.
It comes and goes when I get a chance to write about something relevant for this site, but it is always nice to share.

This week we do not have much of anything new, but there are projects in works. Projects that -- like a lot currently -- have been put on delay until I have handled some personal business.

But we might be seeing a new story here as soon as next week.

Keep your ears peaked and your eyes bulged,

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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~.

Hey there, Happy Filthy Friday to you all,
Today we have a new story, one with Twilight and booty escapades.
A calm, laid back snuggle, at least for one of the parties involved.

Some things are so big, that they become insignificant. Others are so far away, they do not exist. Some things, take so long, that they never happen. And others seem to happen at a constant basis.

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Can we see our footprints when they are swallowed by our shadows? Does it matter, when the road ahead lay clad in mystery? To stop is to sink, contemplate not the step you are on, but the one you will take. Darkness or light, all pass. They affect our stride, as much as our last step did.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Fine print, is a skill check. But what skill does it fall under?
Perception is possible, particularly when perusing parchment.
Knowledge is a candidate, considering ones curiosity.
Falsehood is factual, fortune favours fakers.

But in the end, it does not matter which way it is failed, only that it happens.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Today marks the first story we publish to Fimfiction of 2020, the start of a new chronicle, with a familiar franchise peeking in behind the veil~.

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When I was young, there was a daily need that stewed within me. A desire to fill. Often this was met with food. Though, hunger could be sated, a physical hole to be filled and plugged. But this desire was different. Impressions, ideas, media, stories, items, exploration... If all desires were slaked, all holes filled, it dug new ones, always moving to the next, shifting, running, pouring into several at a time. Yet also it kept moving. Spare little time spent to dedicate oneself to a single

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Quite strange, it feels as if a year had just passed by in an instance... So many voices calling out to be muted by aethereal filaments. Of untapped potential and personality. Wherefore hath this presence made itself manifest?
Will it ever return, or will we then have changed too much to recognize it?

Happy Filthy Leapyear Friday~

What is the road? We tread upon it during our journey - the quest of walking, waking, understanding - yet the road itself does not exist, merely a concept brought about underneath us through a collective will to have it there. We see because others see it. Because we need to walk? We need a destination. We have to put one foot after the other. How deep does it go? Will someone who does not believe in the wall have it cease existing for them, or does it run deeper? Is there a collective

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It is a curse to live during interesting times, despite the ravenous hunger one has for stories.
Interesting times, make for wondrous stories, though a miserable experience. As always, any good story requires conflict.

Happy Filthy Friday~. And Happy Twin Month~.

Slowly does one sink into tar,
it feels like standing still, least not going far.
It feels fine, not a change in their smirk,
Slowly they find themselves, waist deep in murk.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

As storm clouds loom ahead, I upon my bed, and knit a pouch or sorrows, to carry for tomorrow. I line the piping in dread, and thread the warp with fear, and once the pouch is woven, I wash it out with tears.
Come bright morrow I step outside, bag of mine in hand,
It is filled with bright thoughts and fantasies, I carry across the land.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Thoughts of snow. Of the pleasant chill that invades your veins, chains your nerves to the whims of winter and sends your spine rattling. It rouses a heat. The throes of your body engaged to keep you warm, to keep living. A visceral experience of your essence clinging to life... made tactile. You cannot just feel it, you are beset to feel it...
Few, though, desire to dance with their own mortality.
They are a rough partner.
Present, or not.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

This week we have a new story to share, one involving The Orchard, a pleasant bar where like minded pony folk can relax and indulge in some depravity. And sometimes, a mutt or two.

Struggles harden the mind, through the weight of hardship the body molds.
Stress toughens the body, through the pressure of failure the mind buffs.
Both follow a pattern, weaving through one another, to craft the felt of consciousness.

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We trap ourselves in a cycle, it goes commitment, that reaches deep into the night, and to then rest the brief amount of time I have, to wake up and realise there is more commitment. At which point, instinct delays it, and becomes pushed forward, down the day, into the afternoon. And then work begins again....

Happy Filthy Friday~.

5 steps away, I didn't give the time of day.
4 steps away, I had nothing to say.
3 steps away, I attempted to delay.
4 steps past... I hadn't expected it would move so fast.

Happy Clean Friday~.