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Dark Side :icondestinyblue:DestinyBlue 13,987 428
My Little Pony Alicorn/Princess Cadence Review
~Or, The Redundancy of the Term 'Alicorn' and the Contention of Fan Misinterpretation~
The word 'alicorn' has become widely used within the My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic fandom to describe a pony that has both the wings of a pegasus and the horn of a unicorn. 'Alicorn' is used as a catch-all term attributed to any pony that matches these vague descriptions. From a basic glance, there is no real problem with this: after all, a fandom can create content as it sees fit, even if the word that they are using is technically inaccurate. However, if we risk delving a little deeper it becomes clear that these are turbulent times within the pony community, and that the liberal use of 'alicorn' has created a chaotic dynamic that seeks to severe ties between fanon and canon altogether!
One of the key problems that I'm talking about here stems from the contention that surrounds ponies dubbed 'alicorns'. For one, the fandom seems to unite in a fairly substantial act of aggression
:iconcuddlepug:Cuddlepug 32 91
Focus on yourself :iconaquasixio:AquaSixio 7,277 198 StupidFox - 8 :iconsilentreaper:SilentReaper 17,142 1,793 I Am Because You Are :icon253421:253421 2,723 126 Cat Philosophy :iconhumon:humon 5,057 634 The Monarch Butterfly :iconmimikascraftroom:mimikascraftroom 1,555 315 StupidFox - 19 :iconsilentreaper:SilentReaper 10,865 2,604
Sometimes You Don't Have to Change the World
Ares is not what I imagined her to be. The great man of myth, muscular and imposing, shining in his armour, with crested helmet and mighty spear, does not stand before me. Instead I face a young woman, hardly more than a girl. She is soft and delicate, with eyes so large they will soak up the world, and skin like spun glass, that glitters in the darkness. A warm glow radiates from within her, not quite visible, but strong enough for me to feel the heat on my face.
The sound of traffic wafts up to us from the street far below. Heavy clouds block out the night sky, reflecting back the poisonous orange of streetlamps and office blocks. The rooftop is high above it all, and we are invisible. That’s why I chose it, to be alone. The last thing I expected was a visitor, proclaiming to be a god.
“Ares?” I scoff, looking her over with something I imagine to be petulance. If not for the fact that she was so decidedly un-human, and that she had materialised on the rooftop with n
:iconc-a-harland:C-A-Harland 221 85
A matter of time. :iconcanisloopus:CanisLoopus 255 53
Terrors fragile, tease the night, nubile and safe they allure.
Poisoned apples red with easement, fat with sweet liqueur.
A molasses prison within a dream, a sleep with no stone cast.
Whispers delusion into tired bone, pledges asylum vast.
Thicker than reason and gilded neatly at every golden seam,
wont let it grow without a mess, a mess I cannot clean.
lust maroon for pathways mild and burden a fraction lighter
Saturate us, destroy our home, the noose a fraction tighter.
The call of sleep is oh so sweet, the phalanx wilts, fatigued.
Demon lend me another drink, as I'm thoroughly intrigued.
Oh there is? Through the pass? Shelter to weather the storm?
Say its ok, it's easy and pure, but ultimately, forlorn.  
No matter how twisted these ancient halls, or pathways wrapped in snow,
no matter how thick with thorn and swords this journey overflow,
ignore the lies, the trap, the swamp, the corpse soaked in Merlot,
Fight for every fucking inch: it's the only way to know.
:iconslakajuster:slakajuster 38 20
The man holds a grimy hand to her mouth and whispers something I can't hear. She squirms against the alley wall, and she shrieks, muffled through fingers. I pull out my gun.
"Stop! Police!"
The man's face jerks my way, and I look to his forehead. In the late evening darkness, glowing from his bald scalp is a violet tattoo: an X overlying a large circle. He's a Delinquent Archetype. A Thief.  
"Step away from the woman!" I walk closer.
The Thief's eyes widen at my gun, but without missing a beat, he puts the girl between us and pulls her close. He has a knife pressed against her breast, where the tip pierces her blouse.
"You aren't going to do anything to this girl, are you Thief?" I say. "That wouldn't make your handlers too happy, you know." I press a button near the back of my gun, and the small, mounted screen blinks to life, displaying an ID number and a series of readings. One registers fear. It pulses. The Thief pales, almost to the girl's chalky degree.
This close, I can see pas
:iconinkfish7:Inkfish7 485 391
Two kingdoms :icont1na:t1na 544 12 A Terrifying Realization :iconpony-berserker:Pony-Berserker 1,851 351 Entropy of Love :iconkimded:kimded 666 46 Alea Story :iconsilentreaper:SilentReaper 2,440 1,189
Music Is...
‘What is music?’
A little boy asked me that today.
I bent down so that our faces were level
And then I said to him with a smile,
‘Why do you care?
Out of so many people today
Why do you care?’
He looked back at me
His eyes too thoughtful for his age
And he said right back to me,
‘Because I want to make good music.’
I liked that answer, and I told him so.
He was happy and he smiled.
‘Take my hand,’ I said, ‘and walk with me now
And I will show you those things that proper music make.’
He put his small hand into mine and came with me.
I didn’t know what to make of this, he trusted me.
But I led him along, and as I did I pointed out
Some of those things that proper music make.
‘Music,’ I said, ‘is the harmony in the world
Brought together to create a myriad of sensations.
Music is our footsteps on the ground
Music is my walking with you.
Music is that ancient couple over there
See how elderly they are, yet they see each
:icongryphonlord:gryphonlord 738 301
Typical Brony Leaving the Fandom
I'm leaving the pony fandom;
I'm done with all the gossiping and the bitching,
The back-stabbing and the gender-switching
Between people who pretend they're something
They're not. [5]
I'm getting out of the fandom;
I'm sick of its porn and its gore,
Its darker side and its desire for more
To join the herd of egotistical pricks
Like them. [10]
I'm tired of this fandom;
I'm bored by endless proverbs and morals,
By the puffed-up glands of internet quarrels
Of who loves and tolerates in greater amounts
And wins. [15]
I've had it with this fandom;
I'm hateful towards drama and exaggeration,
Towards those who react to every situation
That comes about and fucks with their next
Great idea. [20]
I've given up with this fandom;
I'm leaving DeviantArt and deactivating my account,
Leaving behind my reputation and getting out
Of this mess of a culture of childish
New-borns. [25]
Well, I'm still in this fandom;
I decided to give it another shot,
Because without the bitching and the clop
Culture, and
:iconcuddlepug:Cuddlepug 43 112
A Question of Time :iconvelvet--glove:Velvet--Glove 426 201 Dilemma of free will :iconmindtuber:MindTuber 346 97 Yin Yang Tribal Wolf Set :iconwildspiritwolf:WildSpiritWolf 1,491 93 Yin - Jang, Dragon + Cock :iconvilva73:vilva73 1,674 244
          I am nauseous and weary of humanity.  I am revolted and emaciated from others conformity.  I cannot bear to exist another day conscious of the world's continuous heading in the same direction that is unless someone stops it.  It is time to remove the blinders off of the nations who cling to them as if it is their source of life.  It is time to cause those who cast their self-righteous stones to realize exactly who it is they are casting them at.  It is time to make the corporations preying on the naive youth for their sheep like qualities to take another look, to recognize that everybody is not as gullible as they deem.  It is time to succeed in forcing those whisperers and nay Sayers to stand up and take notice.  The time has come to join together as one and influence a revolution.  Together we will break the molds that ha
:iconliart66:liart66 114 235
about a boy ii :iconindiae:indiae 1,652 112
Afterlife Astronaut
“There is no God.”
“Well, you don’t know that for sure-“
“Bernard, as an AI connected to every philo-science document, every parabyte of knowledge in the Human Empire, every logic string going back to the days of the Past Colonists... I can assure you, there is no God. It has been proven.”
Bernard sighed. His helmet visor fogged up then disappeared.
“I’m not going to bother arguing with you. Soon that golden gate is going to open, and I will walk into the Kingdom of Heaven. That should be enough proof.”
The gate in question was a smooth sphere of gold, slowly rotating on an equally dull pedestal. Crystal red spires pointed at specific points on the globe.
“You just don’t want to argue with me because you are in fear of how wrong you are. And how right a computer can be.”
Jude deserved to be muted, but sass like that always kept her voice a ubiquitous presence in Bernard’s helmet. A blue flash in the top
:iconayeaye12:AyeAye12 260 167
The Regressive Left :iconamericandreaming:AmericanDreaming 169 189
Tuesday Afternoon
Next, please.
Yes, hello again.
I'm sorry, my memory fails me. Which one are you?
Well, I was Martin Fry.
I'm sorry, those records are terminated. What's your number?
Eleven thirty-one.
No, no, not your queue number. Your executive number, the eight-digits.
You expect me to remember that?
Well, it is within the seven plus-minus two limit, which you should achieve if you've reached up to level one. Or, are you the reincarnation?
Yeah, that's right. That's what I wanted to discuss with you.
Did you miss your stop?
I only sent you off a few hours ago.
Yes, my point exactly. What's the deal with turning me into a sea turtle?
You said you liked swimming, and that you'd like a long life.
Yeah, but their life expectancy from hatching is only about four seconds, innit? I was eaten by a gull after two. You do realise that the odds of me becoming an old sea turtle are about one
:iconementhal:ementhal 1,169 303
My Life Story Isn't A Poem
               This is what it feels like to crumble down in a blazing squall.
               You are muffled gunshots wrecking yourself in high speed collision with his brass armor. You compress every eruption by choking ashes and swallowing shatter glasses because god forbid you are a frostbitten girl with hitched breath and messed up mascara and god forbid you are explosive and god forbid you crumble down because no, you are an inspiration and you are clenched fist and sculpted chest, you are concrete and you are statue, you are the ice cold dusk and YOU DON'T GET TO FALL.
               And somewhere between waiting the incoming of a knight in a white horse and the utter destruction of a gale force hurricane, you vomit pills and anesthetize your heartbeat in a locked bathroom, you are a sinking ship with polished medals and you are a callused writer with in
:iconmilk-and-pie:Milk-and-Pie 85 70
What is philosophy? To philosophize is to not think about something, but to think upon those thoughts. You are to go beyond thinking, a thought beyond the thought. To think, you are to walk upon the ground, and observe it. To philosophize is to get upon your knees, and to DIG into the ground! You are to take your thoughts even further than your thoughts already. But I have heard that to philosophize is a gift. But why? Why cannot everyone take a deeper meaning into the thoughts and think upon thoughts? To dig into them? Is it the "strength" of the mind? For the one unable to philosophize, they are unable to dig their fingers into the ground. But then are we to say that those whom cannot philosophize weak minded? I don't think so. That's not right to say one is weak. But what is it that makes one unable to take a deeper meaning into their thoughts? Is it the mental comprehension? Can one only understand to a certain point? But does that mean philosophizers minds are to be unbound to com
:iconwizardred:WizardRed 63 77
My Little Pony - Hospice I
Before diving into this, I think some background would be useful. When she was young, she had dreams. Dreams of shining and of making others shine. She made herself and others look beautiful; for that initial interim she held high. When she fell (south of Ponyville, Old Manehattan-land) her dreams became nightmares, seizing her by the hoof and never letting go. She was taken and put into a bed of rust and red crosses. I was one of the few who had the time to give. She wanted me dead but it pained her to see me walk out those sliding doors.
Now, I won't pretend I understand. I never will know what she went through for those ten months and two days. She had a constant sting in her side that she claimed she could only numb by sticking her head in the stove. Her nightmares became easier during this time. And I like to think that I did my best in the time that she had to make her comfortable, even when the sting became too painful to breathe.
But let it be known that this w
:iconcuddlepug:Cuddlepug 74 46
Haiku Theory Part 1 -2009-
A Lot of Words About A Little Poem
An Introduction to Haiku Structures
Part 1
A haiku poem cannot be defined according to the number of syllables and lines it contains (nor by the number of syllables in each line). Although I do not wish to go into the reasons why at this point (I will save that for a later discussion) the form of modern English haiku, as Haruo Shirane writes, “is a short poem, usually written in one to three lines.” (in Gilbert, 2009)  At this point our definition sounds very vague. If the number of syllables and lines do not define a haiku poem, then what does? And if a haiku poem is simply a short one, two or three-line poem then what separates it from other forms of Western short-verse or, in the case of one-line haiku, a sentence?
Patricia Donegan writes, in agreement with the Western haiku community at large, that “syllable counting... is not the important thing for haiku in English. Haiku is an experience, not an act of co
:iconsolarts:SOLARTS 243 324
A sunny day in the park.  There is a single bench CENTRE  stage.  GOD is sitting on the LEFT side of the bench.  He has long, white hair and a long, white beard, and is wearing a simple white robe.  He is reading a newspaper.  Enter PETER from the RIGHT.   He is wearing black pants, leather shoes, a white shirt and a garish, comical tie.  He is carrying a paper bag.  PETER sits on the bench next to GOD, setting his bag next to him.  He folds his hands and admires the weather.
PETER.  Beautiful weather today.
GOD [focusing on his newspaper]. Mm-hm.
PETER. [Extending his hand] The name's Peter.
GOD [shaking PETER's hand]. God.
[GOD returns his attention to his newspaper.]
PETER. Um… God?
GOD.  Yes?
PETER. Not to be rude, but… your name is God?
GOD. I am God.  Or at least I was God.
PETER. I… see.
GOD. You don't believe me.
PETER. Would you?
GOD. No.  But it doesn't matter whether or not you believe in me.
:iconbarnabus:barnabus 1,363 568
Ouroboros (Jormungand) :iconnik159:nik159 1,988 117 Michiko Toyoda :icondctb:dCTb 4,564 142 Ascension :iconchristine-muraton:Christine-Muraton 795 59 Mathematikoi :iconarctoa:arctoa 777 262
No Better
I'll whisper in my dreams for a better day.
in hopes they'll love me enough to stop hurting me.
But life isn't that way, and tomorrow is no better than today.
and when reality is worst then the lies that had broken me,
piece by piece I'll see in the reflection of my hands  whats  left  of me:
an empty face and an swallowed heart with silly dreams.
It's these stubborn hopes that kept me from empty
but closer to all that hurts me.
Tomorrow is no better then today.
Its my hopes that trap me
like every other broken promise,
at first its so sweet, I cant resist
and its all I can  do to believe in tenderness.
Life is not  that way,
but the child in me, will always be the same
and more than my past, and more than my future
she is my now and she is more important than my pain
and more important than my time.
Tomorrow is no better than today.
That place, that child in everyone
is stronger than any reality  or lie,
but oh so much softer
:iconsoulfulbubbles:SoulfulBubbles 61 33
Ascension - Ghost Constellation :iconsuirebit:Suirebit 428 12
Imagine Dragons
This story has been fully voice-acted. Scroll to the description for the audio.


...And here I am, walking up these large stone steps. Climbing up them, literally, as they were not made for humans to traverse. I would have been tired of ascending them each day, if not for the fact that I was no longer human. You see, I am what they call a Dragon Hunter. I happened to be one from the icy north and as such, this entire army of armour-clad Templars brought me along to exterminate the demon dragon that was said to plague these frost-bitten mountains.
     The Icy Peaks of Teruel, or so they called them. Really they were just a collection of very large and harsh mountains, in which nothing dared to make its home. There was no wildlife here, no trees, not even the barest hint of a stone bug to be found. There was literally nothing here, except for a blind belief that a demonic drago
:iconwordofchen:WordOfChen 113 36
Error in Reading the Bible
Where do errors arise in biblical interpretation?
The first is misreading the text, the second is misunderstanding the context, and the third is not reading that section in light of the whole of that section.
The fourth is forgetting who it addresses--that is to say (allegorically) people of a certain heart or disposition.
The fifth is seeing these words distinct from a life that has been lived.
The sixth is to see the Old Testament without considering and making it separate from Wisdom, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes, and to see the New as separate from Christ's example.
The seventh is to see the Old Testament radically distinct from the New--what does Christ cast aside, what does He fulfill, and what does He do in His life?
We, first of all, are so easily lead into error. Furthermore, the impious, atheistic, agnostic, lukewarm, and indifferent will never read the Scriptures accurately. This does not mean the words are inaccessible; it is q
:icontesm:TESM 49 292
Fancy Philosoraptor :iconthazumi:thazumi 873 73 Dual Knotwork Wolves Tattoo :iconwildspiritwolf:WildSpiritWolf 857 27
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin…

~ T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
I am going through the keyless gate
to watch and wait,
to wander here and there among the proud,
among the white and old whose wisdom rots, repressed, untold:
the soporific royals wreathed in leaves of gold.
And to them I shall read aloud from the Book,
read of the sins their lips have took
and upon me they shall look and patiently reflect…
“I am lost in my own depth,” I will say
in a slight, impartial way
(for I lack violets and an antic prince’s love)
and they, floating through their channels deep
dare to drown me in my sleep and in their orisons remember
So shall I be a queen bone and ash,
of crawling worms and sullied, melting flesh.
Kissed by death, I shall burn upon a pyre
knowing only distance and desire and, rising from the fire,
I shall step with soft, unfettered feet
:iconaillesdors:aillesdors 140 130
Through the looking glass
Is this all real?
What is this sensation we feel?
Are we just reliving the life we once lived?
Did we die already and just get revived?
Who once decided what's left and right?
Who sees everything in black or white?
Is this whole world just a dream?
Is this all part of some scheme?
The answers to the questions were not written in ink
It always changes no matter how much you think
Because you're neither right nor wrong
People have been searching for answers for so long
Laws and rules,
Are just some of our tools
Tools to make this world seem more vast
If they are not believed in then they are just the past
Do we have some weird ideal?
Are we nothing yet real?
An answer is that ''we are'' therefore we exist
But that doesn't always mean we can coexist
Searching for answers can lead us to depression
But when we find the answer, do we remember what is the question?
:iconkoratoshisfriend:Koratoshisfriend 94 94
The worlds poison and antidote
Making the small differences in the world...Does what
one does to make the small change really matter?

Introduction; The Problems and Where They Lie
There are many big issues happening in the world, regarding poverty, disease, human rights, animal rights, environment, and many others.
There are many people who act upon this to help improve them, but there are also people who don’t believe in small changes because the problem is too big, and often criticize those who try.
Deal with it, some would say. That’s how the world goes. There’s nothing we can do about it.
It is agreeable that life, to some extent, stinks. However, “dealing” with a situation does not necessarily mean remaining passive and watching the problems grow; this does not solve anything better either.  
The problem does not simply lie in the problem itself, the causes of the problem, or the size of small efforts, that mak
:iconemptyshadow:EmptyShadow 159 42
Daisy Squirrel Polymer Clay Sculpture - Details :iconstanuch-przemyslaw:stanuch-przemyslaw 257 35
On Tolerance
You'll have to stick with me for a bit, but I'll begin with a jarring statement to most readers: it seems to me that the Catholic Church is really the most tolerant of anyone or anything.
This is because the Catholic Church has rightfully questioned everything and accepted what it must. It is derived from the fact that we see creation as good and, as such, there is nothing that exists separated from goodness—no matter how hopeless. We are tolerant precisely because we call things evil and because we call things good. These are like the actions of a wise gardener who prunes leaves and branches, allowing the good to grow properly and the bad to fall lifelessly.
Indeed, the history and hagiographies [lives of the saints] of the Church attest to this attitude. St. Martin of Tours, though he had the mighty pine tree cut he erected an altar in its place. He removed the worship of something false with the worship of something true—he did not remove worship.
St. Catherine of S
:icontesm:TESM 73 199
a wreck-
age wearing
at the sea(m)s
of tidal vacancy;
I am the ocean, and
the moon has
forsaken me.
cling to reason,
I stumbled on
absence stagnant,
abrupt. bedridden yet
ever chas(m)ing, I  
fell to salt-soaked
ground from a
words were all it took
but all you do is take.
I am waking
and I am shaken
tsunami waves that break
in empty frantic fury;
you are
the briefest repose
or instant of stillness,
I yearn; instead
I am abandoned by language,
I am bound to languish beneath
mountainous (n)ever-rest
tempests that swell,
that quell
even the most desperate of breaks
for the shore.
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