Faith.
We are all called, at one time or another, to have faith.
Faith in the Goddesses.
Or faith in ponykind, as Velvet Remedy was struggling to regain.
Or, as with Homage, it is faith in heroes, and the value of the Good Fight.
Sometimes the faith you are called upon to have is faith in yourself.
Faith doesn't require us to be willfully blind or dogmatically stupid. But it does require us to take risks. To put our trust in something we know might not be true. Even when the cost of failure could be very high.
Especially then.
For some of us, faith becomes our central reason for living, for pressing on. Faith is what allows us to believe in a happy ending, even in our moments of greatest sorrow. It is what allows us the hope of rescue even in the most suffocating darkness.
And faith, more than anything else, is what the Wasteland is ravenous to devour. More than kindness. More than innocence. The Wasteland does its best to tear away your ability to believe in anything other than itself.
When you no longer believe things can get better, when you stop trying, that's when the Wasteland has won.
The Wasteland can kill us, but so long as we die trying... as long as we die believing... then its success against us is a pyrrhic victory at best.
I had been thinking of a story Spike had told us that night in his cave, one of many tales of the Mares before the Ministries. This particular tale was about a time when Twilight Sparkle's magic had failed her...
Do you know any spells for turning a hydra into a mouse? How 'bout a squirrel?
No! No small rodents of any kind.
...and she had been asked to rely on Pinkie Pie's irrational Pinkie Sense.
You'll be fine. It's your only hope. You have to take a leap of faith.
I am, almost certainly, about to die.
This is my leap of faith.
We are all called, at one time or another, to have faith.
Faith in the Goddesses.
Or faith in ponykind, as Velvet Remedy was struggling to regain.
Or, as with Homage, it is faith in heroes, and the value of the Good Fight.
Sometimes the faith you are called upon to have is faith in yourself.
Faith doesn't require us to be willfully blind or dogmatically stupid. But it does require us to take risks. To put our trust in something we know might not be true. Even when the cost of failure could be very high.
Especially then.
For some of us, faith becomes our central reason for living, for pressing on. Faith is what allows us to believe in a happy ending, even in our moments of greatest sorrow. It is what allows us the hope of rescue even in the most suffocating darkness.
And faith, more than anything else, is what the Wasteland is ravenous to devour. More than kindness. More than innocence. The Wasteland does its best to tear away your ability to believe in anything other than itself.
When you no longer believe things can get better, when you stop trying, that's when the Wasteland has won.
The Wasteland can kill us, but so long as we die trying... as long as we die believing... then its success against us is a pyrrhic victory at best.
I had been thinking of a story Spike had told us that night in his cave, one of many tales of the Mares before the Ministries. This particular tale was about a time when Twilight Sparkle's magic had failed her...
Do you know any spells for turning a hydra into a mouse? How 'bout a squirrel?
No! No small rodents of any kind.
...and she had been asked to rely on Pinkie Pie's irrational Pinkie Sense.
You'll be fine. It's your only hope. You have to take a leap of faith.
I am, almost certainly, about to die.
This is my leap of faith.
— Chapter 44: Galvanize
Littlepip's assorted epithets:
Solar-flaring orgasms of Celestia!
Luna shitting moon rocks!
Fuck me with Celestia's forehooves!
Fuck me with the sun!
Fuck me with the moon!
Oh fuck me with the moon. Moon, sun, both of them. Rape me hard.
Celestia clop my clit with a hooffull of sunfire!
Luna rape them with Her horn!
Celestia's solar-flaring mareheat!
Luna's tidal mareheat!
Luna clop me with Her wings.
Luna-eclipsing orgasms!
Celestia rape your cunt with the burning sun if I can’t even take simple instruction from myself! Do I have no fucking self-control?
Oh no. No. Celestia rape me with a solar flare, no.
By the ballsacks of a thousand star-devilsnote
Celestia lick me like she loves me!
Luna spank my withers!
Luna shove my cunt full of moonrocks and call me home.
Solar-flaring orgasms of Celestia!
Luna shitting moon rocks!
Fuck me with Celestia's forehooves!
Fuck me with the sun!
Fuck me with the moon!
Oh fuck me with the moon. Moon, sun, both of them. Rape me hard.
Celestia clop my clit with a hooffull of sunfire!
Luna rape them with Her horn!
Celestia's solar-flaring mareheat!
Luna's tidal mareheat!
Luna clop me with Her wings.
Luna-eclipsing orgasms!
Celestia rape your cunt with the burning sun if I can’t even take simple instruction from myself! Do I have no fucking self-control?
Oh no. No. Celestia rape me with a solar flare, no.
By the ballsacks of a thousand star-devilsnote
Celestia lick me like she loves me!
Luna spank my withers!
Luna shove my cunt full of moonrocks and call me home.
"You are Littlepip, she of the colorful vulgarities, am I right?"
— Princess Celestia, upon meeting our foul-mouthed protagonist
"For Canterlot!!"
— The radio feed from a hijacked Raptor.
"And as you say, Raul, some humans- just as some ponies- are capable of unspeakable acts. But despite all the violence in your history, you have endured, built civilizations, constructed great wonders of technology to broaden your horizons and forge friendships across all manner of divides. I strongly believe that this is not some grand miracle... but merely your own deepest nature, struggling to express itself through the distrust and fear that thousands of years spent living on a harsh, unforgiving world have bred into you."
— Princess Luna
