Hey all, sorry but this isn't Rust.

This is Handyman speaking, for those of you who don't know, I'm that guy who writes that fic with that other guy who does the things. Those of you who aren't laughing at the fact I now have an account with a batpony avatar, you have no soul and your first born child will be ginger.

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A swampy breeze rustles through the decrepit brick apartment complex. It is late night, and it is still humid. Humming, a small black car pulls in and parks at one of the townhouses. Hooves clip on the pavement as a pony slouches up the stoop and fumbles through the door. It blinks at the sudden wash of light from inside.

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All;

Think I'm done here.

Explanation and details regarding the continuation of stories (which will be finished) and account inheritance to follow shortly.

Yours,

--Uncle Rust

Friends,

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heeeyeyyyy

guise

did a thing

its a nice thing be nice to it i think it will be here whenever the mods say so

remember that one time i did the drunkfic challenge

YEAH"?

like htat

SHUT UP IM FUCKIN ELOQUENT AS TITS

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This is Uncle Rusty, coming to you live from my nifty little bungalow in upstate New York. Updates on all stories have taken a tailspin after starting work up here at the plant. I'm working hard every day, but when ever I get the chance, I've been swinging away at Legend and a new secret weapon in my arsenal; that Rocketmare sequel I've been teasing you with; Interstella.

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>workin' the graveyard shift
>don't see daylight until i go to bed
>sleep all day like a boss
>scorn those sun loving peasants
>what is sun really what even is
>mfw i am become real batpone

nao i am become bat

gaze upn ma fluffeh earses an tremble filthy casual