sweet flare


Canterlot High School VS Crystal Prep Academy. #TeamWondercolts or #TeamShadowbolts?


“We’re not about to let you win, so get out of our way
Think you got us beat, but we’re here to stay
United strong, yeah, we’ll take you down
You’re not so tough, now you’re in our town
All of the times we lost before
Not about to give up, we’re only bringin’ it more
We can smell your fear, we can see your sweat
Hope you didn’t spend money ‘cause you’re losin’ this bet!
You’ve got nothin’ on us
Na, na, na-na-na, na
Let’s go, Wondercolts!
You’ve got nothin’ on us
Na, na, na-na-na, na
Let’s go, Wondercolts!”


“Talk a little too much for a school that never wins
Maybe you should just stop 'fore you even begin
We are Crystal Prep High and we have a reputation
Every little moment is about our education
Put your ear to the ground
Listen to that sound
You’re a house of cards
And it’s about to fall down (fall down)
About to fall down (fall down), hit the ground
You’ve got nothin’ on us
Na, na, na-na-na, na
Let’s go, Shadowbolts!
You’ve got nothin’ on us
Na, na, na-na-na, na
Let’s go, Shadowbolts!”

((Boy, this was the longest vector I’ve ever did & probably the biggest file saved & I’m glad it’s finished! I can fairly say that “MLP: EG -Friendship Games” is an awesome movie with amazing songs! :D))


Won’t have to find us, we’ll be tracking you down.

Soulmate: Steve Rogers- Christmas

Originally posted by natashasromanoff

Your holidays don’t always go well, with not a great family, but you always have the Bartons.  

No warnings, mild fluff

Enjoy you all, a little late, but that’s because of the holidays.

You stepped out of your house, even though it was cold and your skirt, though a sweet flared fifties thing, gave little to no warmth.  You clutched the fake leather of your trench coat tighter, and fought back a tear or two.  Holidays were not your thing.  Never were, really.  If there wasn’t drama of some sort brewing, and everyone was somehow getting along through a divine miracle, they would be angrily agreeing about politics.  They didn’t realize how yelling, even in excitement, even in righteousness, could make your breath come quickly until you were almost choking on air.  

It made you weirdly sad, underneath a sense of happiness, that your cousin had found his soulmate.  He was younger than you, and idealistic and sweet, just like you used to be.  But the world didn’t actively beat if out of him like it did to you, and now he met a guy, his soulmate actually, with big eyes and a smile like fresh copy paper.  You were jealous of your cousin finding love, jealous that he was still happy, jealous he could sit around the table at holidays and not feel so ill when people yelled.

You soulmark was on the bottom line of your ribcage, written in some combination of cursive and print, with subtle and small loops.  ‘Can I help you, miss, you’re shivering?’ You used to love when the weather went cold, it meant there was a chance you could meet your soulmate.  Now you didn’t want to find the person you’d share your life with, necessarily; you just wanted to find yourself.  

You walked down the lane, surrounded by yellowing trees, already half-naked from the loss of leaves.  Looking up, you saw a tall man, in a nice sweater with some collared thing underneath.  His hands were in his pockets, his body tense.  You shivered a little.  He must be from the Bartons’.  

The Bartons always had a lot of people over for Christmas, always.  They seemed to adopt every person they could find without a family and ordered them to report at two hundred hours to a nice house in west New Hampshire.  You guessed this year they found this blonde man with muscles and invited him to come by.  Bartons never let anyone be alone on the holidays.  Five years ago, when you started college, you decided you couldn’t go home, couldn’t face the family and the yelling, you decided to call Clint’s cell number, which he gave you on the first day of high school, in case you got into trouble, ever.

“Mr. Barton?  I mean, Clint, sir, yes, ah,” you said, sitting outside your dorm, almost shaking with nerves.

“Y/N?” Clint said, on the other line, sounding like he was breathing rather heavily.

“Is this a bad time?” You asked.

“Nah, no, it’s all good.  What’s up, kiddo?” Clint replied, and you swore you heard the sounds of fists hitting bodies and a man yelling.

“I’ll be quick.  I told the family that I didn’t want to come home this year, studying and all.”

There was a pause, “We always got another place setting for you.  I know the family isn’t always great, so you’re welcome to come with us.”

You breathed out, so happy and grateful all at once, “Clint, thank you, thank you,” you started.

“I can get you in an hour or two, right?  Still at college?”

“Yeah, I am-”

“Be there then, let’s say in,” he stopped, and you heard him yell out, “Nat! Think we’ll be done in forty?”

“If you actually get off the phone!” She yelled back.

“Be there in an hour and a half,” Clint said, and hung up the call.

You smiled at your phone for a while, softly, and then ran to your dorm to pack a bag, the building mostly empty.  Clint came by in some sleek, black car, with a red-headed woman you’d seen a couple of times.  You settled in the back, smiling like an idiot.

“Ready to go, Y/N?” Clint asked.

“Let’s have a nice Christmas,” Natasha, the redhead, grins at you.  

You nodded at the man when you caught his eye.  

“Can I help you, miss, you’re shivering?” The man asked you.

You looked up at him, almost in shock, and shuttered out, “A little, but,” you reached up, forgetting any false sense of modesty you might have had, and start taking off your shirt, getting it stuck on you shoulders and head as you tried to show him your soulmark, almost to prove the fact you might be his, “god damn.”  You swore, then blushed.  “I’m so sorry, I,” you worked your shirt off so it was just on your arms.

You looked at him, shivering in the cold.  He was stunned by your display, it seemed, not moving at all.  You breathed in, pushing out your ribcage.  His eyes at first trailed across your breasts, then to your soulmark, his blue eyes widening.  Your blush deepened, if that was possible.

Then, the man reached down and pulled his jean from his hiking boot, rolled up the denim to show his calf, which had printed on the inside, in your scrawled handwriting, ‘A little, but, god damn.’

You smiled at him, and he smiled at you, before you started shivering again.  You tried to work your shirt on, then ripped one of the seams.  

The man gestured to you, helping you get the ripped garment back on, which now exposed most of a collarbone and your arm.  “Whoops,” you said, simply.  The man worked off his sweater and put it over you, it fell down to your mid thighs.  

“You want to come in with me?  Do you know the Bartons?  I could get you something… Warmer, and better sized.” The man asked.

“They adopt me once in a while, my family isn’t a model of relationships,” you admitted, starting to walk up to the house.  

You both entered, and there was Mrs. Barton and her daughter, fencing with candy canes.  You laughed out loud, and they looked around at you.

“Y/N! So wonderful to see you!” Mrs. Barton said.  “Clint!  We found that stray from next door again!”  

Suddenly, Clint was there, with a bunch more people, all in sweaters and soft smiles: a man with a goatee, who you knew as Tony Stark the billionaire, a man with hunched shoulders and curly hair, Natasha (beautiful as always), a tall god you had seen before on television, Clint’s son, and a man whose skin was red.  

“Steve, I see you brought in our favorite neighbor,” Clint laughed.

Steve, you thought, that was his name.

“She’s-” Steve paused, smiling at you, “she’s my soulmate.”  

Everyone’s faces turned towards you and Steve, surprise evident.

“Merry Christmas, I guess.” You laughed.

Natasha was the first to speak, mostly to Mrs. Barton, a little smirk on her face, “They’re standing under the mistletoe.  And you said it was tacky.”


Decided to spread things out a little and try one of the movie theater maps for these screenshots. Figured that with the Shadowbolts and Wondercolts now friends rather than rivals, might as well spend a weekend going to the movies together.

My version about the Shadowbolts in their free day get up. I trace it since Im getting stuck as I’d never get a “balance” in their canon proportion and my own style.

EDIT: Giving Sugarcoat another bow, minor eye edits.

Sunny dress to her status, and letting everyone knows.
Sour is keeping with the fads, dont want to be left behind.
Indigo is showing her allegiance. Dont Drink. Dont Smoke. Dont do Drugs
Sugarcoat dress as frilly as possible to her liking, not giving a stone to your opinion. She’s Sugarcoat(ed) after all!
Lemon is channeling her hard-hitting music in her looks. Rock ON!


In the spring the earth

renews itself once more

with flowers in the tallest wind-blown trees

to the mossy forest floor

Creeks thaw and gurgle

down babbling brooks

Bees busily buzz through large open fields

and tiny little nooks

Geese honk noisily

for all to hear

Ruby-throated hummingbirds

magically appear

Birds flirt with one another

in the trees

Soon there will be chicks

for them to feed

Bright shining sun

warms the chilly air

Fiery red tulips

dazzle with flare

Sweet is the fragrance

of lilacs and honey-locust trees

Hyacinths and honeysuckle

are sure to please

Frogs sing happily

in a faraway lake

Insects hum

and groundhogs wake

Winter is over

so we cheer!

Hearts rejoice

that spring is finally here!

©Amanda Lea Browning