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Lightwavers


I disagree. Screw canon.

Jul
8th
2018

A short treatise on mental defense, by Luna · 9:30pm Jul 8th, 2018

A/N: This is from an earlier time in my alternate history when Equestria was at war with other nations. 'Person' was a word widely used, and Luna was never happy with it having fallen out of favor.


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Jun
19th
2018

Writing irrational characters · 6:36am Jun 19th, 2018

I'm going to be writing some non-pony fiction before I resume any long works that need endings. I'm in the planning stage, and at the end, I'll probably only be able to put ten percent of what I have in the story. But right now I'm doing characters. And I realized I wanted someone a bit crazy, with a goal someone in the know can see clearly won't work, but who's smart anyway. He just has a very specific blind spot.


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Jun
6th
2018

Not a sociopath, just depressed · 5:29am Jun 6th, 2018

So, I wrote something a while ago:

EThe Youngest Dragon
On her vacation in the town of Gold Springs, Rarity finds a dragon. He won't let go of her coin, and now she has no idea what to do with him.
Lightwavers · 12k words  ·  707  16 · 5.5k views

There have been some people eager for an update. The second chapter was...rushed. The timing for the events were bad and it didn't follow the promises set out in the first chapter. There was someone who said it felt like someone else wrote it.

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Report Lightwavers · 230 views ·
Apr
18th
2018

A Plethora of Personal Preference: IMPLACABLE · 2:12am Apr 18th, 2018

TIMPLACABLE
A lone wanderer in the final days of Man. An impregnable fortress work-camp to stand against the total emigration of humanity to virtual Equestria. The artificial intelligence called 'Celestia'. Everything has been accounted for. Everything.
Chatoyance · 17k words  ·  94  25 · 1.3k views

What I liked:
•Formatting. The title, the first word of the chapter, and the image breaks between scenes.
•Plot. From the first word, I was drawn in. The big question was asked: who exactly is Raymond, and why does he hate Celestia? And what's up with Ford Denver?
•Exposition. Understated, no info dumps, no maid and butler dialogue—everything progresses naturally.

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Mar
28th
2018

Writing Music · 2:30pm Mar 28th, 2018

Sights Unseen has a large playlist of music. The lyrics are farther in between than in most other music, and the words fit into the music instead of popping out to get your attention. It's a great selection of songs to write to.

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Mar
23rd
2018

A Candle · 12:24am Mar 23rd, 2018

Violence is bad.

Sneering. Mocking. I wore the armband, they argued, and so I had to put up with them. I wore the armband, and so I deserved it. I bore it, for a time. I waited for them to stop.

They escalated. Kicks turned to openly-displayed fists, turned to bloody cuts, uncovered bruises. Salt from the cafeteria was brought and poured in open wounds. They thought it funny. I thought it hurt.

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Feb
26th
2018

Telluric Fields · 3:27am Feb 26th, 2018

In Scott Alexander's excellent story, The Girl Who Poked God With A Stick, there's a thing called a telluric field that artificially limits technology. In some spots, it's weaker. These places are major sites of civilization, where maglevs and cars are used—until the field shifts, and the people in one city have to go back to steam trains and horses, while another place can suddenly support an air force.

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Feb
14th
2018

Ancient Metropolis · 4:45am Feb 14th, 2018

When Discord was defeated and forced to retreat, so was the world. A wave of destruction plowed across the land. Most civilization was wiped out. Some was not.

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Feb
4th
2018

You are Counting on You—On Smart Characters · 4:09am Feb 4th, 2018

Disclaimer: my thoughts, this is only definitively true about me, there are exceptions, yadda yadda.

You wake up one morning with a pounding headache and the knowledge that you were just sent back in time, and that it was you who did it. All other future knowledge has been wiped from your mind. What do you do?

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Jan
29th
2018

Blindsight—Chapter 1 · 6:54am Jan 29th, 2018

Mayor Mare’s office was full of parchment. Some behind glass cases, some loose sheaves, some bound in books, and a single piece on the desk in front of her, half-full of her loopy handwriting. The room even smelled of parchment, a unique scent that only formed when the material combined with ink. The pony herself sat staring at me with an artificially blank expression.

“Dead when I found him.”

Mayor Mare blinked. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” I said.

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