At times, there is a certain relief in letting go. I get used to burdens as they accumulate, as their compile and insinuate their presence in my life. Despite the loss and pain of letting them go, despite the agony of what I fear life would be without it, there is a wonderful sensation in being able to take deep, long, breaths.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

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Where did all the boy bands go?
Where are my, handsome lads?
Could they not keep up, with the flow?
Were they just a, passing fad?

Matching vests and upturned hats,
Stages bathed in bisexual lights,
Today musics sung by brats,
won't anyone hear my plight...

Aaaaa

AAaaaaaa
AAaaaaaa

I need a Boy Band.

Happy Filthy Friday, and happy early Vore Day~.

We have a new story today, great way to start the year. This one was part of another Pony art pack. And isn't particularly filthy or lewd. A story about being left in the cold, and the choices you make in the face of neglect.

Time passes by quicker than expected, only because my perception of time is flawed. After ignoring it for so long, I suppose I should have seen it coming.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Are transient joys, even joys to begin with? Can you be satisfied with something if you are well aware that it is not to last? For some it is fine to live moment by moment and enjoy times as they come. For others it is not the joy itself but the promise of future pleasures that sustains them.

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We keep contact brief
and hope it is leading,
to a sigh of relief,
once no one's left breathing.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

Wash your hands, 30 seconds.

I look upon the fruit's grandeur: its shell vibrant with a scintilla sheen of its hues. Within housing pods of nourishing, supple syrup. Each pod holds a seed, the intended recipient of the fruit's benefits. Were it not for the seed, there would be no fruit, were it not for the seed, there would be no plant. And yet here I stand, holding the fruit, claimed for my own. What right do I have to it? Other than that which I attributed to myself.
And yet, I am playing right into the tree's trap.

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Seeing is believing. That is what is said, right? Though that changes drastically with context. In the world as we perceive it, we trust what we can see, we all collectively believe in this interpretation. However, in belief, the object of worship is not, if ever, to be seen. Other than those who believe to have seen it.
But who sees them?

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

Three peas in a pod laid resting,
while the morning sun laid cresting,
the pod opened a creak,
from the peas no a peep,
as the first pea tumbled through.

In their slumber, more space felt welcome,
though keeping still neither did seldom,
and so with a bump,
an impromptu jump,
and the second pea tumbled through.

The third pea had all space it'd desire,
fading off in the dream court's choir,
but without a support,
the pod would contort,
so the third pea, tumbled through.

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What is it like to come to terms with one's conception? That brief moment where void and existence married, the instant our lives began. What was before? A question often left by the wayside, and yet as relevant as what happens afterwards. Most conclusions draw back to the moment, where we are simply happy to be.
I am happy to be, and I will be happy to have been, for that brief instance in my future.

Happy All Flanks Day~.

They are changing a bit to accommodate some fees into the actual price, so the prices are not actually changing much.

Greetings one and all.

Working on some new pony projects, and it is exciting to see how this will turn out. There is some royalty in the mix again, and that is always fun.

Other than that I am still recovering from an operation, which leaves me a bit drained. Shouldn't be too long before I am back in shape however~.

hope you all have a wonderfully Filthy Friday~.

Shadows grow, reaching past their limits, stretching towards the horizon. They all harken back to the vanishing point, a destination as distant as it is fictive, yet we rely on it every moment of observing the world. Every step, towards an abyss without end, beginning, nor reality.
Perhaps it is so, because for there to be existence, we require contrast to make it out.
Else, we would stare at but a blank canvas, lacking the marvel chiaroscuro grants us.

Happy nightmare night~.

Salutations of the blazing sun and stars to all living in the landscapes of pony.

Today we have a new story to post, as promised, the sun will rise, leading to quite a hot and sultry tale.

A ruler cementing their reign to their subjects in manners most malevolent.
Can the resistance prove victorious? Or shall they be but amusement for the queen?

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I took part of a nightmare night artpack for the spooky season, check it out~.

Perhaps it is for the best to linger in the chiaroscuro, the twilight of what is visible and not, what is real and imaginary. To not be seen, but to be able to see what you wanted as real, enough. Perhaps saying so is giving up, to not fall into complete safety, to not stride into the light. But in light or darkness, one is blind. Vision is bred from shadows.

Happy nightmare night~.