Today we have a new story coming, the first chapter of a semi-series, its frequency depending on the commissioner.
It is as usual quite a filthy one~ And you have, as always, been warned~.

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Today we have the conclusion to last week's story, when all comes to a boiling point, how will our Diamond Dog react?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Soon enough might get this supported, then there will be more stories able to crafted, but until then I think I Will enjoy what this site has to offer, to sample some of the culture, and a mouthful of grass.

Happy September to all~.

but no, there is no event for this this year.

Darkness lies deepest in the greatest abscent of light. Much is never cast in illumination, leaving untold secrets hidden; secrets hidden forever, or just before the rise of the sun.

Happy filthy Friday~.

Week after a post, feels pretty nice. There is another project coming up in a little while, but it might be a week or so off from now.

And here comes this week's joke:
What did the spider say when the fly asked it to go out with them?
"Sorry, I don't play with my food."
"That is ok," responded the fly in the web, "I am all tied up."

And with that we end this Filthy Friday~.
Have a wonderful weekend~.

Yes, there's a sex scene.
No, it's not kinky.
Yes, I'm feeling alright.
No, this is not going to be the new norm for me.

Any other questions? No?
Ok, then I'm going to go get a drink. Romantic vanilla sex makes me feel so dirty.

-Pencil

Almost time for a birthday around here, and when there is a birthday there needs to be a party packed to the cheek bursting amount of joy and fun, but that takes some planning for those not equipped with party artillery~

But there might be a gift for everyone as well, but for that you have to stick around the updates for the other profiles~

Have a Fantastic Filthy Friday out there~.

Wash your hands for 30 seconds.

Humble worm. Grateful for your service.
Humble worm. We offer our thanks.
Humble worm. For were it not for you.
Humble worm. Our world would lack order.
Though through thoughtless tactics, thou tremors traverse terrain throughout. The wriggling grease which lubricates the cogs of evolution.
Humble worm. The world has much to thank you for.
Yet, worm remains humble.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

For those who may have missed it, there is a new story out. A little bit less clop than what you would expect, but a bit more plot. It's also 3 chapters and they're all complete. I'll be posting the next chapter before I head to work tomorrow morning, and the last one when I get back home.

Enjoy!

"Oh Tumbleweed!" you cry.

(But not in that way you pervos).

"Seeing as of how you are BEST AT PONIES, tell us how to write sexy clopfic stories so that we can inflict our alarmingly specific fetishes upon the featured box! Surely you know how to do this on account of your secret side-account that's like nothing but LyraBon smut or something."

WELL LET ME TELL YOU.

(Even though I don't want to).

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My first story on Fimfiction is here.

July, what a wondrous month, so similar to June, with barely anything to mark they difference in the slew of summer and delight of free weeks spent with those cherished.

Such a deceptive time of year. The prime time for the hive of impersonation critters to spread their influence over the land.

In July, we have an event going on focused on change and trickery, going along with that is a series about changelings, with a story uploaded every week in July.

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Thus we rise once more, stand to the sound of the becoking call of the unknown we cannot but fear and revear equally, the fuel which propells us into vast stretches of never before experienced moments. The roads trails ever forwards, and who are we to deny its lustre?

Happy new year everyone, and I wish you a Fantastic Filthy Friday~.

I move too slow for time. It will not listen, it will not yield
My feet drag behind me in the cleft of weaving moments. Time can not listen, Time cannot yield.
I shout my frustration, condemning each future or past moment with one of my present.
Time has no ears. Time has no blame.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Today, I am launching my patreon, with methods added to earn commissions overtime and look behind the scene.
you can find it if you write /septia after the Patreon web address.
Be aware, it will contain naughty contents in the future.

Give it a glance when you have a chance.

But for now, have a wondrous week and a Festive Filthy Friday~.

Rainfall reaches far, stretching beyond one person, one understanding, one experience. It cannot be taken and contained, not shaped and crafted to give a whole of its event experienced through a single pair of eyes. Who is to say what pespective, time, or length a rainfall truly is? When it is all a collective of numerous opinions, of subjective experiences.

Have a Fantastic Filthy Friday, and a Wonderful Week~.

How deep does the worm burrow? Far enough to escape the light, far enough to escape the dry, far enough to be safe from the surface. Striaghtforwad, it seems. Yet why is the answer so clear, how do we know?
For the worm in the light shrivells, the word in torrid earth withers, the worm on the surface gets caught. Thus, they are no longer worms.
Thus we know, what the worm is.
Except, for those who dig far enough, those distant to our sight.

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Steps merge into one as we journey, one to the next, so that there is no longer any one, and the steps taken are long gone. There is just the next, for life does not slow down, and each action is in preparation to a future event.

Wishing you all a Fantastic Filthy Friday.

A rush of adrenaline gets a human being through a lot more than they would expect. Limitations broken, and new horizons located in those brief glimpses of time. To reach beyond the possible.
Of course, such acts carry a price, an overdose of the impossible sends shock waves through the material, and can leave ones strong bones brittle, and wills reduced to rubble. There is a price to reach the impossible, but how far we need to reach, lessens gradually.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~

Wash your hands for 30 seconds.

Sleep is dangerous. It is a threat to creativity and progress. We bow to it for our biology deems it so, and yet moments of grand inspiration and energy to work comes just during the small hours of the night where our body urges us to rest. Why this torment, why this torture? Why must we be besieged by the horrors of sleep?

Or. Mayhaps it is an illusion, of our own grandeur.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.