We have a new Vore Pony Art-pack released, check out Festive Feasting, find the link on Aryion or my other accounts.

I used to think of diamonds in the rough, those crumbs of greatness tucked away amid the grime. Searching through this proverbial grime was grand, for you knew that there was always a chance to find that one gem that mattered.

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Twas a guard who stood day all,
by the castle he was stationed on.
He kept watch from autumn to fall,
back to the cold brick wall,
and feeling, not very tall.

One day his legs would cave,
right after his back did gave.
So there he sat slumped without diction,
for his peculiar type of affliction.
Though the day went on well,
and not a soul could tell,
that the guard had lost his conviction.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

Once I had thought the road of life to be solid ground, only to be shaken when it gave out beneath me.

Today we have a big camping trip story, Twilight, Applejack, and even Rainbow Dash enter the realm of the humanoids, where one dare leads to another, which leads to a ton of messy situations~.

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What does it feel like to be a tool? To be not of your own mind and sense, of your own desires and ambitions, but as the extension of someone - or something - unself? This 'unself' could achieve greater things than it could accomplish by itself, and all it requires is your sacrifice, your willingness to be a tool in the unself's hand. Perhaps I should know by this point. Yet, judge not your tools preemptively, they may host more than you bargained for.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Tremble. Is it a word of deeper meaning? One can tremble in fear, though one can also tremble at the prospect of something... desired. By this alone we could say the word has many faucets. Yet, does it? Is it not fear the trembles invoke even when in the context of desire? A dread of anticipation, if it all will truly work out? Is tremble then tied, irrevocably, to fear? Perhaps. And perhaps, fear is broader than common perception paints it.

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It can take a moment for a body to register what is happening, a moment where the flesh lags behind the mind. Sometimes this moment is unnoticeable, and at other times it stretches on for weeks on end. And yet it is in the body where we can relate and make feelings tactile. Is this lag between mind and conscious a desired outcome? Or merely a quirk of our biology? Who would figure it out first?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Uploading the story sent in for the Pony Vore Anal Autumn Art Pack from last year~.

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What is a sandwhich other than a vessel? A fluffy, spongy coating sealing an amalgamation of meat and fillings within, squishy materials who on their own is lesser than the sum of their parts. There are no two sandwhiches laying equal, only those alike, and there is infinite potential for how it can be arranged and enjoyed. All sandwiches are not to the taste of every eater, yet who can say a sandwich is inherently poor or tasteless? It is true we tend to group those alike into a group, by

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Greetings, buddies! Hope you all are doing well today!

It has been almost forever since I’ve posted blogs about villains and what I think of them. But lately, I have been rather curious about one of Thor’s most deadliest villains in light of the upcoming 2022 film Thor: Love and Thunder. His name is Gorr the God Butcher.

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To delve below the surface, is to desire sights unseen. I think often of the depths, what may lurk below the core of my understanding, beyond the grasp of a cursory glance, past the limits of casualty. And yet, few times do I act on this desire. Most time, I am content at the surface, for its glimmer in the sun, is so very pretty, so very calming.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

At times, there is a certain relief in letting go. I get used to burdens as they accumulate, as their compile and insinuate their presence in my life. Despite the loss and pain of letting them go, despite the agony of what I fear life would be without it, there is a wonderful sensation in being able to take deep, long, breaths.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

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Sometimes ideals as pleasant to hold. It can invoke a sense of drive, sculpt a destination out of uncertainty. A goal which becomes easy to tunnel into. And see nothing else. Until you neglect what lies around you. and sometimes. You just have the tunnel.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

To push oneself has a negative connotation. If you required pushing, then you probably didn't want to do it, why would it have been required to exert addition force otherwise? When tasks come simply, without question or resistance, we see it as positive, handled without a worry or stress, without a push.
It follows the philosophy of the path of least resistance. However, sometimes, a mere nudge is all a river requires to stretch into a new avenue, and flow farther, faster, than ever before.

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We have a bit of a month of pony going on, there will be pony uploads for almost the entire month~. And today we start up a new story, we are heading back to the Orchard, and you know it gets wild and filthy there. You have been warned~.

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We come to the conclusion of the Orchard ad chronicle today and it is time to get intimate. Story linked down below.

What awaits in the past will stay there forever, only your perception of it can change. And only the effects its ripples have on the future, is what you can better.

Happy Midsummer~.

How does the custodian with thumbs for fingers pick her nose? Having 4 extra maneuverable digits compared to her associates, their fine motoric is splendid and articulate. Through some practice they overshoot the limits of their coworkers and deliver results with accuracy and precision. Through this obscene altercation of biology, they grasp further. Though some tasks are made difficult.
The custodian with thumbs for fingers, have wide nostrils.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Whatever comes after is something I consider, after, there always seems to be an after. After this, after that, few things that are not n after are ever brought up, and when they are it is but a brief window. Everything leaves all thoughts for after, but in doing so, miss out on their afterthought.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

I have heard the story of the ship of theseus: a vessel you gradually replace, bit by bit, until none of the original remain. Then if you took all the discarded parts and assembled those into a ship, which is the true ship?
I have also heard this likened to the the body of living creature; if each cell is gradually replaced along a person's life, what remains of them at the end is not a separate entity from what they began as. Or even what were were just a few months ago.

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Is art, without observer? Is, any work, without a beneficiary? Is there creation, without a creator?

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