Pinkie Pie's simple morning ritual threatens to shatter her very perception of reality, life, and choice in breakfast cereal.

This is PresentPerfect's fault.

"We live in what we believe is a shell, a closed sphere where all is constant. As physics would have it, nothing in the universe is unique, nothing is wasted or destroyed: it is repurposed. But now I prove them wrong. With a single idea, I realize that we are not so insignificant as we think. We are not slaves to destiny and existence. We are the ashes of gods, the fruits of eternity, the products of choice and fate. We are not meaningless. This universe is not our prison.

This is our empire."

- Excerpt from A Lexicon of Impossibilities, by Cypher

Special thanks:
AeronJVL, for the amazing cover art.
Emberspeak, Forderz, RTStephens, PropMaster, and RazgrizS57 for their editing.
shortskirtsandexplosions for the idea.

The air smells like smoke and this tea tastes like burnt plastic.

For so long I've been living life like a marionette on its last string. Only one thing kept me from falling into emptiness. That one thing that kept me going. It gave me a reason to pretend that life still mattered.

Only one pony in the world ever showed me a speck of kindness when I never deserved it. And now she's gone.

I'm falling, and the only thing that scares me is what I'll find when I hit the ground.

(Comments contain spoilers.)

A big thank you to PresentPerfect for his tireless help in editing this fic.

Humans... humans are such a bizarre race. Capable of the greatest benevolence and the worst atrocities. And yet, they're so very predictable. For you see, while societies may die, and nations may crumble, one thing will remain constant: the desire to survive.

I should know. I was there when everything fell.

At Ponyville's school it's time for work-placements, a practical assignment where the pupils learn what life in the real world is like, and the citizens of Ponyville get free labour.

Part of the pre-reader Secret Santa Fanfic project. Each participant submitted their own prompt for a story, and they were then anonymously redistributed. We had five days, and under 10k words to tell our story. I cranked this out while juggling exams and haven't proofread at all, so don't expect too much.

Pound Cake never cared for Canterlot. Why should he? This city has poisoned his existence, destroyed who he his, mutilated his body and soul and left him only a shell of who he could've been. And so he leaves it behind by rising above it, taking up the dangerous job of runner and transporting documents from rooftop to rooftop, away from the prying eyes of the provisional government. But when his sister is framed for a crime that would make her the most wanted criminal in all of Canterlot, he must prove her innocence while protecting the ones he loves and the lifestyle he has grown accustomed to.

A pseudo-crossover with Mirror's Edge. Teen for swearing ponies. A big thank you to all my pre-readers as well, for helping me crank this thing out!

My name is Canvas. I remember because I wrote it in the corner of the white box. It takes twelve steps to get from the cot to the wall. And the lights hurt my eyes.

(Note: The story isn't in color because I decided to try this without the gimmick! But I still recommend reading the GDocs version.)

All legends begin somewhere, and in the musical world, they tend to begin at the Hoofington Institute for Musical Excellence. When a young, unwilling Vinyl Scratch is forced into its halls, she will discover far more than simply music among dark secrets. Because after all, great ponies are not born, but grown from the ashes of dying myths.