This week I am uploading my contribution to the new years vore pony art pack. If you wanna see what is in store for the latest artpack, check out my other accounts for links.

Bubbles hold such promise, they grow and shimmer and glimmer, you want to see more, so you give it more. The bubble rewards you, and begs to shine brighter, it would be callous to deny its request now, seeing how beautifully it inflates.

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Greetings all you grass lovers (come on, not that kind),
how are you all doing?

what?

Stop looking at me like that.

What?

I posted a story last week, ( I did, didn't I?) give me some rest.

Though, I suppose there is more content coming, but that is a little while off still.

In the meantime, enjoy all your pastures and precious pals, and have a fantastically Filthy Friday~.

Afternoon everyone.

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There comes a time of action, some might claim, where we take up arms against our troubles and march forwards. At those times we can accomplish great feats, and topple what stands before us. Yet, those moments are presented in the past. As a necessity then, less than it is today. We see not the pillar that tower over us, for we stand too close.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Before you guys get excited… NO. No, I am not planing on writing this story anytime soon. I’ve already got my hands tied with DragonHeart, Flame and Sword and The MystiKnight Chronicles. I do NOT have the time, not the energy, to write another little pony legend story.

However, just because I don’t write the actual story, doesn’t mean ideas don’t pop up every now and again. But having ideas isn’t the same as actually writing them. Or wanting to write them.

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Another year, another birthday, and another story on top of that. This week we have a tale of a predator who is, less than willing, but a cult of meals eager to slide down her throat~.

It is interesting, how I insist that time makes its mark on me. I look in the mirror and see nothing but what was always there, but my mind fills in the blanks if many lives and people I have been, from when I was young enough to remember. And similar, I can imagine a time, when I am old enough to forget.

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Have you ever taken your time to listen to the muffled world outside of your comfort zone? Ever thought about that what is outside, can be brought inside if you only made an effort to reach out?
Things which seemed ill fitting for you at first are now something magical and close, since it is in your comfort zone.

Everyone has theirs, imagine if everything was in your comfort zone?
If so, how would you be able to act?

If I take an action, in that moment, the action defines me. Should I refuse to act, then I am marked by its absence. For each moment, I am marked as the being who performs that action. Who makes that choice. And if the future is yet to come, and the past is written and defined. Then I will forever be, the person I am right now.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Fickle mistress, hear me thus,
whilst thou leave me to my ruckus?
Fickle mistress, who listens I hope,
whilst thou lend your wisdom to cope?
Fickle mistress, I am troubled with pain,
Whilst thou grant relief, that my suffering pertain?
Fickle mistress,
Whilst thou?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Ok so while the next chapter of Our new friends is being worked on, I have been thinking...
A few of you have been inquiring about the Rainbow Dash side of the story. Rest assured its still coming of course, but here lies my problem.

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Blackest Friday of the cycle is met with a gleaming pearl of white marble.
The contrasts of nature and its inhabitants grow defined, greys shine in their new hues, melding with the pearl of the sky or the everlasting umbra engulfing the earth.
There are no true extremes in hue, yet this night comes close.

Wishing you all to survive the deepest day of the cycle, and that your Friday is full of fun.

At times, our feet reach out for solid road, to be met but not but our erroneous presumptions. A step ary leads the body to fly, yet only for a short while. Reality crashes into us, and we can not but ask forgiveness. For can we blame the irrefutable earth, when we were the one with our heads in the clouds?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

When presented with Everything, I tend to choose nothing. If you give me option A or option E, I tend to go for Æ. Something about all being open, all being a valid option, disinterest me. Perhaps there lies something, in that it is not the options we choose, but how we are posed to make them, that engage us.
Or perhaps, it relates to the act of choosing, falling out of line with what I truly desire.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Twin month 2022 starts now all months will be full of themed stories.

A new story going up today, about Ero and Essex's lewd and filthy Birthday sexcapades. There is a fair amount of explicit material, so do be warned before you venture into the depths of depravity~.

The caterpillar ate its fill,
racking up quite the meal bill,
It ate until there was no more,
when the collectors knocked on its door.
It hit away within a cocoon,
thinking, worried, raided by the goon,

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I feel the world is too large for my eyes to behold. Despite how wide my lids can open, they can only see a fraction of my surroundings, can only retain a modicum of the world around me. At least, on a comprehensible level. I could see more of the world, if I moved back. Eventually, more and more of the whole would come into view, but my distance to is grows in proportion. The more I see the world, the less I can see of the world. But just because I cannot see it, does not stop it from

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Today we'll show the continuation, and conclusion, to last week's story. The final rounds are coming up, and who will remain standing, remains to see.

Struggling, bending the corners of my influence, testing the limits to be met by nothing but sheer force. The limits are there not as a restriction to what lies beyond, the limits are the beyond, they are everything else there is. So, perhaps by struggling, I can reach further than I ever thought was possible.

Happy filthy Friday~.

There is a certain tranquillity that comes with nature, this grand,, magnanimous state of existancewe share. It is faulty to call it nature. There is a great disservice done in denoting it by but a simple word, with six frail letters. for it cannot be contained in 6, 12, or 18 symbols. Were we to take all literature relating to nature, and compile it to one single tome, would reading it, still even give a spectre of the magnitude of nature? Even if we did. It would escape. It always does. It

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And would you look at that, the story from last week continues this week.
Would have preferred to put them in separate stories for individual descriptions, but this should work fine.

It still means we have a tonne of filthy stuff to follow up from last week, the flood will flow from the cauldron~.
And that you can read in the story, conveniently tagged in this post.
I may be changing my prices

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Time slows, the seat carries us upwards towards the stars, past the vail of grease that swathes the heaven in clouds and into the stuffed nothingness. Here there is peace. For a moment, there is respite and relaxation. Imagination, the place of escape, the place we dare thread, away from our own existance. Yet, imagination is branded with more than just escape. It is where our lives lead, it is where we envision the path.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Hi everyone! 

If you've been following me then you've probably noticed that today I published the last chapter of The Opening Act. In fact, chances are that you found this blog post through the Author's Note of that chapter. In any case, the way that chapter ends is the way I felt that story needed to end. However, it is only the beginning of what I had planned, the opening act, if you will.

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