we have to gone

Когда "угнетаемые" не довольны своими защитниками

art by NCMares

Years ago, bronies held themselves up as something special and unique amongst fandoms: a group of love, tolerance and charity as well as exceptional creativity. It was easy to claim exceptionalism when we were small and more tightly knit.

But bronies have always been inclusive, not exclusive. We are a welcoming fandom. And an energetic one. As we spread word of how wonderful this show is to the far reaches of the internet, people took notice. And while many reacted to what was new and different with hatred or fear, people joined the herd in droves. 

Now we are huge, large enough and diverse enough to put lie to the stereotypes, including the good ones that we had created for ourselves. Bronies have become legion... and in doing so, we have become a fandom like any other.

But we don't have to be.

art by AssasinMonkey

Not long ago, I engaged in the single least productive activity of the modern age: arguing on the internet. Specifically, attempting to crack the blinders of prejudice worn by a self-proclaimed "furry" who was ranting about bronies. As expected, the discussion was a small waste of time. But here is a portion of it that I think is worth repeating:

I will let you in on the secret: people are people. Furries are just people who really enjoy anthropomorphic animals. Pony fans are just people who really like the human-like technicolor ponies of a specific show. That is all. The extent to which any furry or brony enjoys what they do, and how they act on that enjoyment, is individualized. You do not need special brain chemistry or a particular background or a specific social disposition to be a furry. And you do not need one to be a brony. Or a fan of Star Wars, or Star Trek, or anything else... [They] are a fandom. Made of people. Just like every other fandom. And in any fandom, you will find good people and bad people, superfans and the passively interested, perverts and prudes. Furries are not inherently superior people to bronies, and bronies are not inherently superior people to furries. No more than Trekkies are to Whoovians, or football fans are to hockey fans, or people who like classical music are to people who like J-pop. At the absolute most, you can try to claim superior taste in one tiny and extremely subjective facet of the grand category of "things people like". Woohoo, you rock.

But this is the important part: we do not have to be just like any other fandom. 

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic offers more to love than just cute, colorful ponies. Most of us, I would hazard to wager, didn't fall in love with the show for the ponies as art -- we fell in love with the characters, with what they did and how they behaved, with the idyllic-but-not-sugary-perfect the world of Equestria, and with the heartwarming messages of virtue and friendship at the emotional and philosophical core of the show. An if we are fans of that, then we are fans of something with more depth and meaning than just an artistic concept or musical style or type of sports. 

We can be something very special and unique by lauding those messages of friendship and virtue, and trying to adhere to them as best we can. We can treat "love and tolerance" as calling again, rather than just a 4-chan meme whose time has passed. We can strive to be better people. 

And if we do, we can be something truly beautiful -- we can be the realization of what the early brony fandom held itself to bo. We will do so as individuals. Points of brilliant light in the gloom. In general, the rest of the fandom will not follow -- it is too large, and many will never be interested beyond "I like cartoon ponies." But that isn't why we strive to shine. We should do so because it makes us better, and we want to be better than we are. Because we are inspired to do it. And for those in the darkness who are looking for a light.

art by AssasinMonkey

We are large and growing, but we have lost many as well. We have all seen people leave the fandom because "it isn't what it used to be." The most surprising element of this is that so many of them were surprised. They saw their fandom grow, change and evolve... and apparently they hadn't expected that. Instead of remaining in the fandom and being examples of what they believed it should be, they abandoned it and moved on. Perhaps I can fault them for that, but only just a little. And I certainly cannot fault those who left simply because their interests changed, as interests often do. Plus, we have seen many whose contributions to the fandom launched new careers, and who have gone off to follow these dreams professionally. To them, we raise our glasses, thank them, and wish them well.

art by AssasinMonkey

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Their Stories

"Hey young man. This is not the closest way to the Bulgewater County. You better choose the west road of the Wisteria Crossroad."
"Oh look at this thick skin. Everybody's waiting for their turn and now you want to get buried in such nice place far far away?
Hey, you better go to my grave plot. It's much closer and so beautifu..."
"I heard your goddamned hometown story for hundreds of times that my ossicles almost worn out, ma'am.
Why don't we just shut up for this painful journey? You can have some talks with the devils after burial."
"Your sister's pelvis was so huge that even three baby skulls could go through the hole."
"That bastard is talking shit again. I heard he was mental and still barking like a dog even after brain fluid dried out."
"My jaw! Where is my jaw! I can't eat without my jaw!"
"His jaw was gone sucking dragon dick."
"This rude boy is ignoring me again! I told you Bulgewater County is not this way..."

----------------------------------

They Talk Too Much

"I told you not to go this way."
"Hey lad. Your fighting stance is awkward as hell."
"Your mama's tit was so huge that her ribs were bent."
"He's so nice as always. Drop me off here."
"We're dead! We're all dead. All because of that stupid gravekeeper!"
"Where is my jaw?"
"When I was young, I found no monsters as ugly as this one."

-----------------------------

They Still Talk

"Amazing, lad! Transforming our remains into spirit form, what a magic!"
"If I didn't know you, i would have thought that you were trying to kill us all! I know this sort of sorcery, and they use this spell to destroy the undeads."
"Your mama's spine is so bent that you can use it in math class as protractor."
"Good to be together as always. It's hard to find nice lad like this fellow these days."
"Where is my jaw? I can't find my jaw!"
"Huh! You call this a magic! Back in my days..."
"Hey young man, do you even hear me?"

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Take Them Please

"Mortal. I ask you to yield one of those heads."
"I can't."
"You cherish life of the deads more than yours? How touching."
"No really. I can't."

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Put Your Hand on My Shoulder

"Hey young lad. You're just passing by that poor giant's body and you call yourself a gravekeeper?"
"Knock it off you bloody dotard."
"Haha! We heard you talking back to our word! Today's a special day!"

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The Protectors

I hear dead people.
And they never fxxking shut up.

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Dead Men Tell A Lot of Tales

"That's a mighty fine necromancy, summoning the dead severed arm!"
"And he didn't raise us from dead with such skill."
"Where is my jaw."
"If we knew he could do that we would've never apologized him."
"I mean, it's pretty absurd to blame us for dragging monster's attention by our chatter. It's monster that cut off his arm, not us."

--------------------------------

Manga Style Necromancy

"Fight with me."
"Wait, we never agreed that."
"I will never forget you."
"I said we never agreed that."
"SOUL CRUSHER."
"You motherf-."

------------------------------

"Your Move, Old Man."

"Look at that ruddy bastard grabbing old man's head."
"Where is my jaw."
"Back in my days, even rudest of all showed respect to the elders.
Kids these days ignore the aged men and their wisdom.
Back in my days, no one would've allowed this to happen.
The kings had to get off their horse to salute me on the road."
"When yer mom rolled on the pen with the pigs."
"Where is my fxxking jaw, you bloody ruffians."

-------------------------------

Necro-man

Even though the sword is broken dead, I can call its soul back.
Arm is the most basic type of shield.
My revived arm will be a shield.
This is my necromancy.

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Starved Pistol of Diliworth

Starved Pistol of Diliworth.
One of the haunted relics made by infamous weapon inventor Godin Elwiv of Eldrian two centuries ago.
The soul of people who were killed by him is stored inside.
Danger Rank High. Never touch.
P.S. My dear pupil who never ever read nor listen to my words.
I leave this postscript for I thought you would've ignore that warning.
At least don't fire this pistol twice.
The chance of it taking user's soul increases geometrically on the second fire.

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Hellblade

"Old man. Sword."
"Arfwgerraworf"

--------------------------------

You Must Fly

"Damn, I'm terribly sorry lady.
This is what my necromancy do.
Look at my arm. Revived in strange form of my true nature.
I guess your soul looks like a fish, swimming freely in the air.
At least you can fly instead of having normal leg oh what the hell am I talking about. I'm really...
Oh... Uh... I guess you like it.
Thank you."

-----------------------------------

One is Gone

My masters, all six of them, told me not to talk to the deads.
The deads never come back to life. That's undeniable truth. The truth that people left behind want to deny so much.
The soul of the dead leaves this world over the curtain of our realm forever.
What we call ghost is just an embodiment of remaining thought, emotion, or memory of the deads.
That's why they cannot talk normally, always want though need nothing, and stick to something obstinately.
It is difficult to remove them peacefully unless you follow certain rules and process originated from the deceased.
The deads are not the ones you knew.
Now I can understand why they taught me that over and over again.
It is obvious how I'll react to the false hallucination of my masters when they pass away.

Автор.

Аннотация:

We wrap up in sheets and an old dressing gown

The dark feels too empty, we don’t make a sound
But you feel so safe, familiar and warm
Ready to wait out the storm.

I’m a photograph, you are a movie
We’re frozen in time, but at least you’re still moving
Without you I’m lost and I’m scared and I’m lonely
But I think you know that you’re better without me.

You have their soul, but they’re not there with you, not really. You bring the world back. You do it all over, do everything right, the way they would have wanted it. But no matter how many friends you make, the one who really matters is gone and it’s your fault.

Doing everything right didn’t help. So you do everything wrong again and again and again. It always ends the same way.

You start to wonder if there’s another way. You can think of one. But it would require a whole lot of Determination.