A human sees flowers, all in a row, they lean in and smell them, make time as they go.
A beast sees flowers, down their list, they grasp and pick them, leaving dew in mist.
Down the list goes, the judge reads them all, passes the beast a sentence, to lay down the law.
The human keeps walking, away the judge gaze, for crime is the act of beasts, abstained the human's ways.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Upon a metal lattice of grand creation, cloaked in dusk drooling from the surveilling cosmic sharks, lies a ray of sunlight. Preserved in toxic amber, it is warped to a cycle of health and decay, as the universe revolves. Encased, hidden, sealed, and cloaked. Yet, its light penetrate into every eye that twinkle with inspiration.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

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~.

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~.

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~.