• Member Since 5th Nov, 2011
  • offline last seen Jul 3rd, 2015

n


Mar
2nd
2013

So it turns out · 2:51am Mar 2nd, 2013

That clobbering writer's block in the face also means that unintelligible garbage has flooded into stuff. Which may or may not mean that i could use some input. In which i mean that if you want to give me input you should pm me for links. As to why I am too lazy to capitalize and post a link in this blog I do not know. Also if nobody wants to look at it likely it will include very bad rants and other trashy and maybe slightly racist jokes and references to things which make no sense in the

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Mar
1st
2013

Persona 4 is awesome · 6:53pm Mar 1st, 2013

Does that mean i will write like a snail?
Maybe
But maybe i should do a crossover of sorts

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Mar
1st
2013

I forgot to ask · 5:42am Mar 1st, 2013

Kill it off?

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Mar
1st
2013

Hm · 5:27am Mar 1st, 2013

Should I publish in two parts or one?
Also writers block is OP

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Feb
17th
2013

Have some songs · 10:23pm Feb 17th, 2013

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Feb
17th
2013

Something tells me... · 10:03pm Feb 17th, 2013

I need to get back into writing

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Feb
16th
2013

[no title] · 7:56pm Feb 16th, 2013

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Dec
21st
2012

Oh wait · 2:56am Dec 21st, 2012

It's the end of the world tomorrow right?
Time to delete my Fimfic account :D

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Dec
21st
2012

Title · 1:56am Dec 21st, 2012

On a sunny day, Twilight Sparkle died. Some say it was old age, but rumor had it that she choked on some fumes of the freak experiments she ran in her secret laboratory. As she was capable of any kind of magic, none doubted that this could happen. Not that this appeared in the press. Twilight Sparkle was also the Element of Magic, and the one that was closest to Princess Celestia. They were too afraid of getting banished.

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Dec
12th
2012

? · 7:19pm Dec 12th, 2012

Sometimes there are things out there that want to eat you alive. But you say no, because today is not a good day to die. It's not like in the movies. Yet you are there, powerless before the hunter. The only thing left is to run, prey away from predator. The most primal of instincts arise with one goal, to survive. Maybe you'll make it, and maybe you won't, but every breath you take tries to extend your life further, if only for a second. Even as the brush cuts you to bits, your tattered remains

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