So Be It
I was terrified, that first time...
I had been... near her, before, of course. Intimately. That was inevitable, really — don't you think? It was... well, uninteresting, I suppose, might be the word. There was a moment, I took a chance, and...
Anyways, that's not important right now. This...and everything that followed...was different.
I felt the urgent summons, in the middle of the night—awoken by the desperate tug towards the distant palace. At once, faithful as ever, I was by her side...
She had been crying. Hard. Her eyes were wild and red, her face a miserable wreck—and this is the Princess! Can you even imagine seeing her like that?
It's become familiar to me, but...well....that's the point, really. To me, and nobody else.
“Twilight, I...” she mumbled, between sobs.
I tried to smile through my mind-numbing fear. I think asked, “What is it...?”
She held my gaze, for a time...and then she told me about the arrests.
I knew, of course. Had known. Well not, knew, as I know now, but...
Equestria is a paradise, a utopia—but only because the law is the law, unquestioned and unquestionable. Unyielding—just like her. Everyone laughs when I get really, really strict and organized, but it's a habit learned long ago from someone who is organizing more than a library. So even as a girl, learning magic from her, I'd heard talk of rebels, and dissidents...the successful arrests, and the arrests that went...poorly.
I guess I always hoped she regretted them, trusted that she did...no, to be more honest, I tried not to think about it. In my heart-of-hearts, I was always secretly refusing to believe it true that anyone would stand up against her...more fool me. I didn't even think why they might do so...it seemed...
Pointless.
Why would I think otherwise? I was so happy, doing whatever she asked.
Having lived...away from her...I think I understand a little better now.
But there, confronted with her miserable confession, I was struck dumb by a little snarl of terror, which lived deep in my heart, at seeing her weak, frightened and overcome.
And I was disgusted to hear her describe...what she'd done.
It became real for me, in that moment; I let myself realize the Princess as the venal tyrant that some people...myself now included...knew her to be, remorseful though she may be about it. The thing, the vital thing, about remorse is that you feel it after you’ve done something wrong...
I stood there, unable to move, or think. She sat on a windowsill, looking over her shoulder at me through miserable, red-rimmed eyes, and...she, who had once entranced me with her immortal beauty, seemed disgusting. The thought of even looking at her...I...I wanted to scream, or throw things...
How dare you do those sorts of things! How dare you let those rumors be true! How dare you not be, secretly, a better person than everyone suspected! How dare you not be...what I wanted to believe you were...
How dare you not be that beautiful creature who had so gently welcomed the desperate passion of a young, eager me in every possible way...
But I didn't say anything foolish like that, of course. Hideous, evil, vile though she may have been to me in that moment...I understood what she had called me there for.
“It's okay,” I lied, as I put my hand on her shoulder, shuddering as she clasped it with her own.
Kissing her, putting my lips to the mouth which had just confessed to me the tyranny its owner had committed, was like licking filth.
I remember even now wanting to wretch as her tongue—that foul, disgusting tongue which had just so thoroughly and permanently tainted the love I had for the Princess—slipped into my mouth and danced with my own.
I thought of her as she had once been, to me, as she took me—firmly, if not unpleasantly. Believe me when I say that what pleasure I received from the...act...was purely physical; I cannot pretend perfect control over my own body, and she...just touching her hand is physically intense, for me.
Imagine her kiss, or her...caresses. It's...it's...intense.
In the morning I left, with her quiet thanks, and returned to the Library.
Cried, cried, cried...I felt so wrong, and...I wasn’t so detached from it, then. My body’s perfect willingness to surrender to her touch had seemed like...approval, in that moment.
Anyways.
She summoned me again, about a season later.
Very similar circumstances: The call, in the night. My teleportation and arrival, finding her staring out her window out over Equestria, the lights of Canterlot Town like little candle flames spread before her.
“I could...I could put them all out, with a wave of my hand,” she said to me, distantly, apparently fascinated by the possibility. “Total darkness, for the city. And nobody would dare complain...”
The causal malice of this statement...sickened me. But I spoke cautiously, so as not to provoke her. “If it would amuse you to do so—”
She laughed. “Amuse me! Perhaps...but...” She turned away from the view in the window and smiled at me; I believe I did a good job of smiling back, for my part. “No, Twilight. It would do nothing but cause trouble, I think. No sense doing anything...without purpose...”
I nodded vaguely, unsure of what to say.
She sighed, and...sitting there, not really looking at me, told me about the illegal press and the subversive literature and how it had all burned—
You can imagine how happy I, the librarian, was to hear about pages kissed by flame.
Ashes, ashes. That was the flavor on her as I...as that night went on. Over her whole body—perfect as it really and truly is, a paragon of feminine beauty—was the flavor of burning, the stench of charcoal. Even in the heights of passion, as she looked down on me and I...reached my peak, I could only think of fire, the stench of cinders, and words being consumed so that none would be inspired to question her by them .
I hated her. I hated her that night and I punished her for what she'd done. I was rough. I was angry.
She loved it.
And so I returned to my library with her thanks.
I...counted the books, over and over again. It seemed strange, but...I needed to.
I felt...sure, after the count. Complete.
Cleansed, perhaps.
A month, then:
“...and they fought, Twilight. They ought not have...”
I took her hands in mine and kissed them. The tears she had been weeping into them stank of blood. I wept, too; it did not wash the invisible but all-too-real stain away from her perfect hands. Even licking them, desperately, didn't. So as those hands explored me that night, I knew myself to be wet with the life’s blood of braver souls than I; when she touched...me, with them, I was almost sick, rolling off the bed, warring with nausea.
She asked if I was alright.
I almost slapped her across the face.
Some vestige of self-control managed to turn it into a rough tackle at the last second, which pleased her, but...I had impulsively lashed out, my heart secretly hoping that beautiful, noble jaw would have swung and twisted so far that her neck would have snapped. The thought of that sudden crack-pop made me...
It excited me, in that moment.
I can say that, now...but at the time my hatred for her flared, since I felt then that even the thought of harming her, punishing her for the...the...the evil, was a...corruption.
But I said nothing. Betrayed nothing of this.
A month later:
“It will all be over soon enough, once the heart of the matter is cut out...”
I bit down on her neck, hard, as I touched her, and tasted her blood. Not a heart carved from her tyrant's chest to please a rebel's fancy, perhaps, but still her vitae ran, rich and red, over that perfect alabaster skin.
A few weeks after that:
“...but the building won't be that hard to replace, I suppose...”
It wasn't, but nevertheless I was walking funny for a few days afterward.
And that following weekend:
“You, of all people, Twilight, know how dangerous that sort of spell research can be.”
So were the spells we used on each other that night, but we used them anyways.
Over, and over, and over...
And a month later. And then three days after that...then it went a whole week, before I spent four days in the palace, unseen by anyone except her. And then it was a month after that before I saw her again.
I should have stopped. I wanted to, every time, especially as our lips first met. I wanted to stop—push her away, tell her no, that I wasn't hers, that she was a tyrant and a murderer and a coward; if she sought absolution, she could find it somewhere besides between my legs.
But something in her eyes, some hunger, as she spoke of her crimes...not for me, but for something from me...
Once, I tried to resist.
Only once.
I pulled back from her embrace, and drew my lips from hers, which had so recently defiled themselves with the confession of putting yet another dissident group to flight, sometime in the distant past. The words, the rejection, the hate...it all came roaring up from inside me, like lava, burning to erupt in that face which was at once so beautiful and so hateful.
My hands, which had been resting on her magnificent chest, clenched into fists, bunching the bare gossamer gown she wore up in my fierce grasp...
I must have had such...fury...in my eyes; they seemed to throb. Maybe I was summoning magic, I don't remember clearly.
She knew. She knew she knew she knew.
If she had said anything just then, I swear that one of us would have died. But no, the Princess just wore her expression open on her face...and my will to resist...
She was terrified.
Hurt, yes. Suppressing anger, yes. Humiliated and confused, yes.
But terrified, above all of those.
I realized I could hurt her, then. I ached to hurt her, to see her face, that beautiful, radiant face screw up in anguish, be hidden from me in her hands for a moment as tears surged in those perfect eyes. I wanted this despite knowing all too well that the face that looked up from those hands would be white-hot with rage, and my death would almost certainly follow...eventually.
In that moment...I must confess...my mind flirted with the idea that this would be a sort of freedom from this hell. From going about my life, day to day, smiling with everyone else...and then going, from time to time, to be touched by her, with the hands that daily wore the iron fists to which those smiles owed absolute obedience.
But even in terror, vulnerability, she was...
Spectacularly beautiful. Even in her agony.
“I...love you,” I said.
I don't know why.
No, that's...not, that's too easy...
I know why I said it, of course; it's because...I love her. So much.
So, so much.
I always have.
I still do, even after all of this—no, because of all of this. Do you think I could hate her that much or that thoroughly, if I was not so deeply, deeply betrayed? If I wasn't torn by how much her pain moved me, despite the fact that she wept over evils she had intentionally, deliberately committed in the uttermost sobriety?
What I don't know is why I said it at the time.
I mean, do you think she was happy to hear that? She was incensed. Beside herself with fury and humiliation.
What we were doing, then...it was...it was a ritual. I realize that now. She didn't want to be loved in that moment. Nothing that had happened was about love. It was about...no, it wasn't even comfort she was looking for. It was the mental equivalent of flushing her mouth with something strong-tasting after being sick.
“How...no. No. Go, now, Twilight, before I—”
“Before you what?” I snapped. “Before you imprison me? Or burn me, too? Who will you confess the murder of Twilight Sparkle to?”
Did ice grow on the walls? I wouldn't be surprised if it had.
“My sister, perhaps—”
The desperate, careless courage of someone who no longer cares whether they live or die burned hot in me, then. “Are her kisses as sweet as mine?”
Her eyes...if looks could kill...
“Get. Out.”
I did.
I went back to the Library. Cleaned the floor, re-sorted the books, polished the table. Chores, chores, chores. Shoulders tense, mind on the job. Busy, busy...busy.
Cheerilee dropped by, chatted, took her latest book, and left.
Dash came by...she wanted something, but I didn’t have it. Oh well.
Pinkie Pie brought me a pie.
I liked it. I remember liking it. My favorite.
I think.
I lay awake that night, half-hoping, half-fearing...
Lo and behold, I felt the summons.
Her faithful student, that's me.
The lights were out. She was alone, staring out the window again; the stars shone brightly in the sky, and I assume the lights of Canterlot Town were visible too, but beautiful as the Princess is she makes a better door than window, as Pinkie says.
“Twilight,” she said to me, not turning around, “I need this.”
No, you don't, I wanted to say. I really did. I wanted to challenge her...
“Yes,” I said.
Cowardice.
“Please...just...do this for me. Accept its necessity.”
There were no more words that night.
In the morning, as the sun rose above the horizon, I was awoken by hushed words in my ear:
“It wasn’t always like this.”
As soon as I’d heard them, they were gone, as if they’d never existed. Their absence, and the look in her eyes, served as my dismissal.
True silence came the next time she called me to her. She just looked at me and...well, she was already disrobed when I arrived. In a bit of a hurry, I think; she sent me away immediately afterwards. Don't know why. Don't care. It was quick and harsh and approximately as affectionate as being slapped.
I started to believe she hated me, and I think for awhile she did, just as I nursed my own hatred for her in return. I don't claim to totally understand her, but if she's anything like I suspect, it would have been easier for her if I had provoked her into... punishing me. However that would have gone.
But in one thing, perhaps, she was correct: this had become something of a need, for her.
Things were cool between us for a long, long time; nevertheless, I attended her need faithfully whenever she required me. I heard her sins, kissed her tears away, and washed the taste of tyranny from her with... with... me.
Her lips were still putrid for speaking her sins. Her body stank of burning books and words that would forever go unread. And her hands...her hands smeared every bare inch of me in blood.
Still I went to her, and kissed those vile lips, drank deep of that reeking flesh, and was touched by those hands, crimson though they were with the lifeblood of the defiant.
But things are different, now...
“I killed them, Twilight. I killed them all.”
She wanted to hurt me with this, though she too was wounded by it. She wanted me to be repulsed, and I was; I watched her lips warp and twist around the syllables and saw nothing there I had any wish to touch.
But that had been true every time I'd been here. She was seeing what of her would drive me away...drive everyone in Equestria away, through me. That was the point of all this. I was Equestria, in the arms of its princess.
So beautiful. So hateful.
I leaned in to kiss her. She embraced me, fiercely, as she does sometimes, and I—
I stopped, and met her eyes. “Does it really have to be...so harsh?”
She choked back the reflexive “Yes”, and looked at me, uncertainty alive in her eyes, for a moment. I could tell I was treading on mental territory she had herself only recently explored. Let herself explore.
“No,” she whispered, huskily. “It need not.”
I was terrified, that first time we made love to one another.
Terrified it was a dream, terrified it was a mistake, terrified it didn't mean what I thought it meant.
Terrified it would end.
But that fear, which only in some unimportant ways was the greatest one, was the only fear she...no, we indulged.
She did not command, or dominate, or direct, or control; we were just...together. In that, it was both meaningless, and the only thing that had any meaning at all...
She surrendered to me as I surrendered to her, willingly opening herself to whatever I chose to do, even if I had drawn a knife and plunged it into her heart. For the first time since this had begun, her kisses were honey, her body sweet-smelling, and her hands left no mark on me save those I desired.
She was very quiet afterward, but eventually she looked down at me, her pale skin bright in the moonlight. “You seem a little surprised that there is any gentleness left in me, Twilight,” she said.
But of course, it was not I who was surprised.
“No,” I replied, “Just grateful.”
She smiled, taking my hand in hers and bringing it gently to her lips.
Things are different. Things are changing, in the months since that night; between us, and in Equestria. Slowly, perhaps, but...it is only beginning, after all.
I will help the tyrant bear her sins, and she, in turn, will learn to stop sinning.
I am hers, body and soul; I have never truly pretended otherwise. If she needs me to be her redemption...
Though my body is flayed, my mind torn, my heart wounded unto death...
So be it.
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Here it is. Humanized for the sake of more effective imagery, a little look into how a tyrant Celestia might function... and how faithful Twilight would be, in that situation.
Enjoy.
Holy crap, that was good. Didn't notice your name there, Heretic, but it definitely has that great incisive cut into Twilestia that you and Varnus can do so well. I loved this. Just loved it. So dark and bittersweet. An unique take on the ship.
Got to read this earlier this week. Probably the only Tyrant Celestia story I can actually enjoy, because it isn't trying to be all 'FOR THE NEW LUNAR REPUBLIC, HURR' either.
Because only this image can sum up my feelings right now.
i3.kym-cdn.com/entries/icons/original/000/002/796/447px-Manlytears3.jpg
Just... Wow. Very profound.
*le reading another fanfic*
*gets email notification & sees author name*
*opens So Be It and skim thru it*
Conclusion, my brain is failing me as I cant fully grasp the story yet so a proper reread is in order
358085
This one really wants to have every word read pretty carefully, yeah. Not my usual word tsunami, though, so it's all good.
358026
Why did you decide to humanize them? I don't feel the impact would be any less if they were normal
Excellent writing
whenever i see the "dark" tag, i usually ignore the entire story, expecting some cupcakes-esque story, but the description caught my fancy, and im glad it did, this has got to be one of the better written stories ive read on this site, top 10, in my book, top marks from me good sir
358094
At least you're not Kkat. Eternal was just the right length, imo. FO:E is forever going to remain one of the greatest things to ever come from this fandom, but if word count was cock size, it's boner would pierce the heavens and assault the gods. And yes, I am aware that this is a terrible metaphor and I should be slapped with a cod.
358108
Well, it was down to Device's call since he wrote the piece, but as I see it? Imagery, particularly tactile imagery. Roaming hands, kissing lightly held fingers, the feel of gripping cloth and clothes, of smooth skin slick with imagined blood and rough with imagined ash... as I see it, that imagery wouldn't be nearly as effective with ponies.
"It was quick and harsh and approximately as affectionate as being slapped."
You're good.
So, this story quite met my expectations, at least considering it's written by you.
The provided depth is enticing, it is the aspect which drowns in other Tyrantlestia stories. The love-hate was pretty colorful and well explained, especially the burning of books triggered more seething anger in Twilight. Most certainly a clever move.
I like how you placed two or three hints on your other story "Eternal", just like the emphasized terms "faithful" and "changes".
That given, it is a great and worthy new story on my list of favorites.
That was an interesting story. It's not my ordinary fare and probably not something I could stomach reading if it was 30.000 words rather than 3000, but as always with you two it's a fantastic piece of writing.
Humanized ponies have always been pretty Meh to me, but it was handled in a rather interesting way. The story never "touched" me, as I would say your other stories do, but there at the end it truly was beautiful. Interesting take on the Tyrant Celestia for the matter, though all that sado-masochism was a bit... Odd I'd say.
Anyway, you're all awesome :).
Me likey :D
although in "I remember even now wanting to wretch as her tongue"
it should be retch, no?:p
also, I'm not sure whther i should feel bad for twilight or not D:
Hot damn. Very impressive here, device. And I am inclined to agree; the imagery of them being human works far better. Overall, a very interesting piece of work.
358209
"Retch" is technically incorrect, but has come into common usage such that it is acceptable to differentiate it from "wretch" as a noun; i.e. something that is wretched.
But I am a smug, terrible creature who is inclined to extremely old-fashioned language for no reason at all.
Wow! I'm at a loss for words.
This, is fine writing. I can't remember who said that if you want to write a good story, you make a likable character and make them suffer. It's not nearly that simplistic, but you pulled that off masterfully. The suffering, the willingness to endure, the hope for better things where all portrayed flawlessly. Bravo.
358108
358135
Basically what Varanus said, but I'd just like to add that I personally felt more comfortable portraying a fairly dark situation (e.g. ongoing sexual dysfunction) with humans rather than magical cartoon ponies. Also I feel like pony sex is too goofy to carry the dark tone well.
I tend to perceive the ponies as characters independent of their physicality--a clever person could probably find the three or four places in "Eternal" where I was cursing and sitting there trying to figure out how to get a pony body to do what I wanted for the symbolism to work.
358173
>all that sado-masochism was a bit... Odd
Yeah, it was supposed to be.
358108
The imagery becomes more stark when you see two women fighting a battle such as that rather than a unicorn and an alicorn. Even minor changes such as hands vs. hooves, human lips vs. equine lips, et al, brings a starkly different feel to it.
358108
The imagery becomes more stark when you see two women fighting a battle such as that rather than a unicorn and an alicorn. Even minor changes such as hands vs. hooves, human lips vs. equine lips, et al, brings a starkly different feel to it.
As for the story itself, awesome. It felt brutal and sickening, as it should; for a minute there, Twilight pretty much carried the weight of the world on her, in a way Celestia could have never done.
I really like Twilestia.
I generally find Tyrant Celestia stories incredibly dull and trite.
This combination of the two wowed me. In a short space of text, you gave Celestia so much depth, as opposed to the usual 'oh hey, I'm a bitch actually' normal Tyrant. And Twilight was ... wow.
So good to see you guys doing stuff again.
I wonder if you two are even capable of writing anything less than excellence. Beautiful story as always. I really enjoyed the take on Celestia as a thoughtful tyrant instead of pushing her to the extremes of benevolence or maleficence as so many do. Also, the humanization did help convey aspects of the story that would have been difficult if they'd remained ponies. Anyway, thank you for your story.
I wasn't going to read this until I read your blog post that "I can, just to demonstrate once again that I am the best!"
Very well done.
This brought a tear to my eye.
A very interesting story that leaves me unsure as to how to feel about it...
On the one hand, its a look into Tyrant Celestia I have not seen before that also intrigues me. On the other, Twilight's internal conflict frustrated me the entire way through. It made me think of her as a Mafia Wife.
Good story overall though!
You two know how to write a good Celestia and Twilight pairing. Does this count as TwiLestia?
That is all.
There it is. And it's featured already! Off reading it now
Wicked sick.
Props.
I don't have any words to express how I feel about this fanfiction. They're not terrible words, in fact if I had to describe them they would be words of praise. But the feeling from this... I cannot adequately describe.
So I leave you with a thumbs up while I go to ponder.
The story is very well-written, but I can't say I'm glad I read it. It made me feel sick with despair.
Ok, I'll say now, what the hell. There is a perfectly good picture of princess molestia on the internet that I know of. And not seeing it here makes me want to pee in your toilet, leave the seat up, and then pee in the back pot so the pee sits in there.
Well this concept scares the f*** outa me. *RUNS*
"Dash came by...she wanted something, but I didn’t have it. Oh well."
Cleverly disguised unrequited love triangle plot thread? Carelessly misplaced text? Or overactive imagination holding the shipping goggles a little too tightly?
Yeah, I loved it. It's not an entirely original concept, but its one of the Tyrantlestia ones done well, I don't much care for them, that's why this is the only one of three that I liked. For a one shot it made its interpretation and tied up everything rather nicely given the short nature of it.
I guess the only complaint I can make is that it all sort of...felt very quick. Not rushed (boy do I see that a lot in fanfiction), but I would have liked to see this in a full length story I guess. The emotional pacing just kind of passes too quickly.
But like...seriously, what is up with you and Sad tag? Can't you ever be happy? My god man, you write so well, but you make me FEEL so SAD.
It's an interesting take on this relationship, and I think by the time you get to the end you've got a pretty moving theme; I'd like to see it driven home more strongly with some tighter prose supporting it above. I know I'm as bad of an offender as anyone else -- worse at times -- but seeing as I'm wearing my proofreader hat rather than my writer one, I feel justified in saying that ellipses, paragraph breaks and italics are very powerful tools for visual timing and visual emphasis, and should probably be used with a somewhat lighter touch. That way, when you get to the killer lines that really require them, they're all functioning at full power.
Congratulations on achieving the feature box. Your life still has meaning!
358223 As something of a brobdignagian sesquipedelian, I oft find myself favouring the draconian dialect also.
Ok, even AFTER reading it, I still say what the hell! It needs the picture!!!
Excellent work.
I'm proud of you, my daughter.
358898
I get what you mean with this criticism; I think this one was a victim of over-editing. I sat here staring at it for three days, you know? It's my baby, and I babied it with lots of stylistic stuff. And I am terminally addicted to ellipses and semicolons, it's true.
I was trying to match my diction when I read it aloud, if that makes any sense. It is a monologue, after all.
358873
The sad tag and I are old friends. Sorrow is the emotion I am most familiar with in life, in its incarnation as regret, and I think it shows.
google.com/imgres?hl=en&gbv=2&biw=1366&bih=590&tbm=isch&tbnid=4Y6-Ts-IM4OiyM:&imgrefurl=http://knowyourmeme.com/photos/256301-my-little-pony-friendship-is-magic&docid=vYqH5jJZs7O6hM&imgurl=http://vgtribune.com/files/2010/09/Amazing-Awesome-Face-Teary-Eyed-Kane-Clap.gif&w=480&h=360&ei=cjRtT5-aKsX-sQLIwIjtBQ&zoom=1
Not bad. Don't usually go for limes or clop-fics, but this one was well written and actually had a storyline.
359050
I know exactly what you mean. You hear the words in your head and they just don't look right on the page unless you can somehow elevate the ones you inwardly hear stress on. When you're in the thick of writing, it's the only thing that makes the line work. I would suggest, however, that once you're done, take a short break, re-achieve a sort of minimum safe mental distance from your work, and then go back through as a reader rather than as an author and ask yourself, at each point, if your visual emphasis really needs to be there. Sometimes you can achieve the same effect more subtly with a few wording changes, and sometimes I think you'll find that the line scans perfectly well without any added augmentation at all. Keep the ones that matter the most, and they'll retain their punch.
Plink plink. YMMV, as ever.
As usual from you, absolutely enthralling work. The feelings portrayed really jump out at you, as does the inner conflict. Excellent!
ok i shouldve read the tags not what i was especting and to be honest this was way to cliffhanging or not enough detail at points its kinda like you can turn it into a realy realy long poem and it dosnt realy touch on how the charaters from everything ive seen would act if the other acted that way but as i said the tags romance and dark dont go well for me so i just going to kepp hte like disliked area void (but stick to your previous writeing style
)
Twilestia, not my thing. Tyrant Celestia, not my thing. Humanized ponies, not my thing. Cloppy stuff, not my thing.
And for all that, this is excellent, DH and Varanus. Well done. Five traumatized, codependent Twilights out of five. I'm not sure I agree with Skywriter's criticism given that this is a monologue. The choppy stream-of-consciousness style would wear out its welcome in a much longer piece but I'd say, in this case in particular, it works where a cleaner prose might not.
Only 3,000 words? Are you sure you're Device Heretic?
But then, it didn't need to be longer. The story is complete, the emotions are vivid, and it's even got a bittersweet ending to top it off. Just what I'd come to expect after Eternal. Congratulations, you made a Tyrant Celestia who wasn't one-dimensional.
Rating: Teen
Does not seem appropriate
The flavour of ashes. The stink of blood.
Again you make me love you.
I wonder if any of friends know anything of what's going on. Pinkie in particular, coming around with her favourite pie..
358040
ugh I can barely even stand the thought of the New Lunar republic, sure i'm open to ideas but i just don't like the thought of people taking sides in what is not only a non-existant war, but the fact that they take it as a religion. I've seen role playing groups and pages dedicated to this (i am NOT hoever a member of any of them)
Regardless another good fic device heretic, not the normal tsunami but still an interesting litle story about how tyrant Celestia could exist. Is it bad i felt like inserting a generic joke about abusive boyfriends here?
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It IS bad...but then again, that's the whole point of the story. Twi's a goddamn hero and I love her to bits <3