Point Of Entry
Point Of Entry
“So… lemme get dis straight… We stick togetha, help each otha find our cutiemarks, an' on top o’ dat, we get ta wear awesome capes like youze?” one of the newcomer Crusaders, a light-green filly named Flora, gushed, excitedly pointing at the leader’s silken cape.
Beaming with pride and displaying the CMC crest for everypony to see, Babs Seed grinned and answered in the affirmative. “Youze got dat right! Sound pretty fair ta youze?”
Excited murmurs passed among her four recruits, eyes wide with wonder and surprise. The four blankflanks had been expecting both something cool and something to do with cutiemarks, but weren’t ready for something this cool.
Babs felt like a five-star general rallying her troops on the battlefield. Leadership opportunities had never been presented to her, though she technically had employees working underneath her. Management had never been one of her interests, seeing what it entailed for her parents: lots of paperwork, lots of unexpected telegrams, and little home-time. However, this management was a different sort of breed, and the idea that (if only in this moment) foals were looking up to her made Babs Seed aware of her own inner strength.
Now, now, don’t let it go ta youze head, youze mook. Youze managed ta bring ‘em heeya, but youze hasn’t made Crusadas o' ‘em yet!
Grabbing a piece of chalk from the board, Babs said, “Now, I’m sure youze is wonderin’ what the rules o' dis heeya club are, am I right?” Four nodding foals gave her unspoken confirmation. “Well, then, jus' gimme a second an' I’ll write ‘em down—youze might wanna take some notes too, while youze at it.”
Playing schoolteacher, creating a fog of chalk dust and abusing several innocent erasers, Babs wrote as well as her awkward hoof-hold allowed. After several minutes, she had scribbled out four rules on the board.
They appeared as the following:
1) Once a Crusader, always a Crusader.
2) Do not bully anypony for any reason.
3) Do not fight, except in self-defense.
4) You are not defined by your flank.
“So… what does everypony think?” she asked, a shy smile and blush spreading across her muzzle.
After a few seconds, the peregrine colt, a brave little foal named Rustler, raised a hoof.
“Yes, Rustla?”
“Um, Babs Seed, what does the fourth one mean?” he asked, squinting at the blackboard. “Iffa we aren’t defined by our flanks… then… what do we go by? How do youze measure anythin’, iffa youze have no cutiemark ta measure against? Youze must have noticed tons o’ ponies have cutiemarks dat match their names—shouldn’t we jus' go by dat?”
“Yea, he’s right!” piped a sparkling white filly with a pink mane named Quick Step. “Like… shouldn’t youze be a farmer o' summat?”
Farmin’? Me? Like, Apple Family farmer?
“Ah, heh heh, um...” Babs chuckled, confused. “I, uh, don’t know what youze mean by dat.”
“Well, duh.” Quick Step rolled her eyes. “Youze name is Babs Seed. Youze know, seed. Like, apple seed? O' orange seed? O'—“
Shaking her head, Babs interrupted with a rough, “I get it, I get it!” She stomped a hoof on the floorboards for emphasis. “No! I don’t have ta be a farm-pony iffa I don’t wanna. I don’t have ta be anythin’ I don’t wanna be. Neither do youze.”
Rustler waved a hoof in the air again. “But, Babs, why do so many ponies have names dat match their cutiemarks?”
Rustler brought up a point that philosophers all over Equestria had pondered over the ages. Although it was a strike against the colt’s ego (if he was aware of the fact), he wasn’t the first pony to figure that out.
The majority of ponies, borne blank and clean into a brave, new world, would come to find in their growing pains that their hidden talent matched their birth name. If literalism didn’t prevail, the metaphorical often did. Hence why Libra Scales had a knack for maintaining impartiality instead of becoming a merchant of balances. In such a coincidence, she, too, maintained the principle, as did many, many other ponies.
Few answers had been given to this riddle. The more faithfully-inclined ponies would muse that such happenstance was a tally on the side of Fate, destiny being chosen and intertwined from birth by the trickster ways of Mother Galaxia. Tinfoil-hat wearing ponies, in their suspicion of all things similar and coherent, rumored that cutiemarks were actually spells cast by Celestia per the demands of a foal’s parents—that they were no mark of self-discovery at all. Still others scratched their heads and continued to sleep under their thinking trees.
Babs Seed was no philosopher, but four pairs of expectant pupils demanded that she be.
“Dat’s an excellent question, there, Rustla. Dat’s showin’ some smart thinkin’. Uh…” Come on, kid, hurry it up! she heard the Turner-angel urge her. Youze know dis. Come on.
“… Maybe youze don’t have an answer?” Turn Key, a little purple colt with an orange mane, said. “It’s alright, Babs, iffa youze don’t. I still wanna be a Cutie Mark Crusada!”
“Me too!” Flora exclaimed, raising a forehoof.
Quick Step nodded. “Makes three o' us.”
Rustler, however, was not impressed. “I still wanna hear youze take on dis one. I mean, ma name’s Rustla. Rustla. What—do I have ta move ta Appleoosa o' Ponyville an' start lassoin' cows fo' a livin’? What say youze, Babs?”
Babs Seed gulped. Never one for philosophy, she decided to cast her die in the dark and see where it landed.
“Nopony knows fo' sure, Rustla,” she said, clearing her throat. “Sometimes, things happen dat way. Sometimes…” Her thoughts drifted back to Ponyville, to the Cutie Mark Crusaders, to the parade.
“Sometimes, things jus' kinda happen in a way dat matches everythin’ youze thought before. Patterns in the sky, in the stars, the constellations. Think 'bout those. Dey are constant, aren’t dey? Draco today is Draco tomorrowa. Some dominoes fall inta place where dey belong. Some things are what dey appear ta be.
“An’, sometimes, dey aren’t. Life can make a fool o' youze iffa youze ain’t careful. Fo' example, see rule numba one. Youze may think youze can only get youze way in the world by bein' a bully—bitin' the dog before it bites youze. But the world will show youze what it thinks o’ dat. It’ll challenge youze. It’ll shake youze up an' grab all the bits before youze can squeal.
“So, I dunno. All I know is dat youze can’t predict anythin’. Iffa youze don’t wanna try ta find out who youze are, well, youze pay the price an' takes youze choice. Thinkin’ on it never hurt nopony, but it never made no cutiemark appear, neither. Does dat make sense?”
Her troops were silent, drinking in the depths of her words, letting them burrow into their brains and plant their roots. The general waited to see the state of her soldiers’ morale, to determine if it was time to board up the gates and deflect, or if they were ready to charge.
Rustler rose and saluted Babs Seed. “Ma’am, I would be proud ta be a Manehatten Cutie Mark Crusada alongside youze.”
As the other foals cried out in agreement, Babs sighed in relief. “Glad ta hear it from all o' youze. Anypony know how ta sew? Iffa youze are gonna be crusadin’, youze need a cape!”
Quick Step’s forehoof waved excitedly. “Oh! Me, me, me!”
~
Leaning low, parallel to the table, feeling the smooth, green felt under one of his hooves, the grain of the cue against the other, Lucky Toss connected with the cue ball, banking a shot against the bumper and tapping a solid ball into a pocket.
“Heh, o’ course youze made dat shot. ‘Lucky’ bastard.” Boone snorted, leaning against his pool cue. “Ten bits says youze can’t clear the table.”
“Ten bits? It’s on, buddy boy!” Two hoof-fulls of spit were exchanged and united, and a pot of bits thrown into a Mason jar. Lucky Toss stared at the pool table, considering his next shot.
“Hey, Boone, have youze been back ta school, eitha?”
Card Slinger was slumped in a beanbag behind the pool table, shuffling and re-shuffling a worn deck of cards. Fencer and Switch were on the opposite corner of the room, Switch taking a sharpening stone to the other filly’s sparring flail. Night had not yet fallen as the sun still shone its bright rays into the gang’s shack. Cursing the daylight, Slinger squirmed out of the beanbag and trotted over to the bay window, drawing the blackout curtains.
“Dammit, I’m tryin' ta play some pool heeya!” Toss whined, all of his angles lost in with the dilation of his pupils.
“Shuddup, Toss. Youze a cheat anyway.” Turning to Boone, Card Slinger asked again, “Have youze been back ta the classroom, Boone? Still hot fo' teacher?”
Barely dodging a swing from Boone, Card Slinger bust up in laughter. “Hahaha! Youze ain’t helpin’ youze cause, Boone! Youze throw like such a little faggot!”
Glaring up at Card Slinger from the sharpening stone in her hooves, Switch hissed, “Slinga, jus' cut it out already! Youze know he hasn’t been back yet… he’s been here all damn day, fo' Celestia’s sake!”
Slinger swayed a little, still trotting above Cloudsdale within his pickled brain. “Ah, youze right. I forgot, he's afraid o' dat namby-pamby blankflank beatin' his sorry ass up." Snort-laughing and stumbling, becoming even more amused at Boone's glare and blush, the buzzed colt almost fell onto the pool table.
"Sorry, there, fellas. Boonie-Boy, me an' youze last bag o’ veggie salad had a dance dis mornin’. Don’t worry, I’ll pay youze back once the check comes. Heh, we’ve all been learnin’ so much heeya instead, haven’t we?”
CRACK! The cue ball slammed into another solid, making sweet love on the stone, sending it home with its tail between its legs. “Dat’s anotha one, Boone! Might as well pay up!”
Shaking his head, Boone turned to his intoxicated leader. “O’ course we have. But, back ta befo'. School. It’s been damn near three weeks at dis point. Don’t youze think we woulda been busted already iffa the Orange bitch was a snitch afta all?”
Blade sharpened at last to a killing edge, Fencer admired Switch’s craftsmanship, running her hoof around the dull side of the blade. “Iffa she knows what’ll come ta her, she’ll keep her crybaby mouth shut. We can’t keep hidin’ heeya foreva, though… some o' us have parents ta lie ta, youze know!”
The ward of an incompetent uncle who split half the government dole with him on marijuana and alcohol, Card Slinger snorted into his hooves, rocking himself back and forth. “Oh, the plights o' youze normal foals! How youze must envy me an' ma family gravestones! Not ta mention the trust funds in the bank… heh, heh, heh.”
Boone groaned as Lucky Toss made another expert shot on the pool table, leaving only one solid and the eight ball waiting. As he calculated the complex geometry of billiards with one eye open and tense hooves, Lucky said, “Come on, man, dat’s jus' temptin’ fate right there. Trust funds are fo' adults only. Youze got about five years ta go.”
“Like dat stops him from doin’ anythin' else.” Switch rolled her eyes as she cleaned metal shards off her sharpening stone.
“Ah, buck all youze. Anyhoo, I think we oughta keep layin’ low heeya. Maybe give it a few mo’ weeks. Those Oranges have bits, though. Maybe we could get ‘em ta cough some up in exchange fo' leavin’ the worthless one alone.”
“O'… we could give that little brat another manecut,” Fencer said darkly, twirling her flail, feeling it bounce and slash the air in her hooves. “Dis blade is hungry fo—“
“NOOOO!” With a final crash of sphere against sphere, Boone was out ten bits. That damn little gambler.
Card Slinger rolled his eyes. “Fenca, don’t even start with me. Now dat I think 'bout it… youze all should go back ta school. Back ta bein' little bookworms.”
“An' why do youze say dat, Slinga?” Switch sneered back at him.
Card Slinger rubbed his forehooves together, creating tiny sparks within them. A hideous, toothy grin spread across his face, spreading like flames through a parched forest.
“I’ll take care o' the Orange bitch. Dis one is mine.”
~
After introducing the new Cutie Mark Crusaders to the concept of the group high-hoof, the four new recruits departed the classroom, chatting excitedly. Quick Step had taken down all of their measurements and studied Babs's cape, relieved to realize that she had the same fabrics back at home. The Manehatten CMC scheduled their next meeting for Friday, leaving the gap between meetings for the capes to be finished.
Happily waving good-bye as they trotted out the door, Babs Seed could no longer contain her joy. She cantered a few laps around the classroom, her cape flowing behind her, the very first club meeting a total success. Deep conversation notwithstanding, none of her fears had come true. One foal was all she wished for, all she asked of her lucky stars. The Universe surprised her and gave her four instead. Apprehensive curiosity was all she required. The cosmos again exceeded her expectations, dropping excited, deeply interested foals into her hooves.
Erasing the afternoon’s meeting notes from the board, Babs Seed said to herself, “What a great first day o’ the Manehatten CMC. The girls back in Ponyville will be so impressed ta hear 'bout dis! I better whip up a letter ‘bout dis ta dem, soon as I get home.”
Closing the door to the empty classroom behind her with a hindhoof, Babs found her thoughts drifting to Ponyville, strangely. She had been away from the western land and the Apple Family farm for barely two days. Regardless, she couldn’t help but wonder what the Ponyville CMC and Apples were up to.
Would dey be proud o' me fo' today? Are Diamond Tiara an' Silver Spoon playin’ nice? Iffa I hear dey are doin’ anythin’ ta Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, o' Scootaloo, why, I oughta…
“Nah, everythin’s gonna be fine,” she dismissed, shaking away those thoughts. Ponyville, in spite of dragon attacks, parasprite invasions, Nightmare Moon, and Discord had stood strong, a powerful and menacing cliff in the ocean spray. By virtue of its very existence, it seemed to challenge all comers, mocking, “Can you take me down? Many have tried, all have failed… and who are you again?”
The Elements of Harmony—her own cousin one of those destined warriors—could handle any threats that Fate had smacked their way. Schoolyard bullies like Tiara and Spoon were no match, especially since Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were over their fears of snitching.
Fears I induced, Babs thought, ashamed.
The sun beginning to set, Babs Seed galloped through the vendors’ roads as they began to empty, the dark curtain of night threatening to plummet. The monsters were beginning to stir under their rugs, and in spite of her cape and her earlier assurances to the contrary, she was not ready to face them.
Fears I hold tight.
~
Wind rushed through her ears, teasing the hammer and anvil within them, whispering her name. She tried to resist. She tried to stay on the straight and narrow path before her. It was too late. The wind was a fisher-pony and she was a rainbow trout.
Hook and line met sinker.
Babs Seed cantered, then galloped, as the thermals screamed her name, seeking her, needing her. Drawn to their source with hypnotic desire, she felt her hooves pounding harder and harder upon the cobblestones. Adrenaline injected deep into her bloodstream and her nostrils flared open. She felt herself becoming more equine, more primitive, sinking into her roots as she ran through the dark streets of Manehatten.
Losing all self-control, her pace increased as she passed row after row of abandoned buildings in the twilight. The darkness beckoned, raised a forehoof, and ushered her towards it.
She reached The Watering Hole, turned the corner. Found the loading dock, the alleyway.
Graffiti decorations graced the concrete jungle surrounding her. She turned to see that her exit was blocked by a sudden shift of the alleyway, as if it had picked up a wall and thrust it behind her. Surrounded by stone on all sides, Babs Seed was reduced to pure livestock now, a mere animal.
Panicking, she slammed her hindhooves, solid as iron, into the walls around her. They gave no relief. She took her forehooves into battle, kicking and punching, tears rolling down her face.
Suddenly, a hoof tugged at what remained of her mane, pulling her to the ground.
Lying prone, she looked up at a blood-red colt staring back at her, licking his lips.
“What a naughty little seed, out in ma streets. It’s a pittance youze still try ta sprout."
The broken cider bottle glistened in the moonlight in his hoof, its end jagged and angry. It looked as hungry as the pony hovering over her.
She tried to move, but her muscles had lost all communication with her nervous system. Neurons fired, releasing electricity and chemical signal, receiving only silence. Her brain began to panic, flooding her veins with more adrenaline, firing neurotransmitter after neurotransmitter. They all dissipated and changed, energy failing its purpose and instead becoming the falling sweat on her brow.
The colt lifted her by her mane, making her wince at the pressure. He looked her deep in the eyes, the windows to his soul reflecting no light. There was nothing there. He was hollow, soulless, psychotic.
She tried to gasp, tried to cry out, but her voice strangled in her vocal cords as he stretched her neck, heightening her pitch. Her cerebral cortex disconnected communications with the rest of its system, and her noises became high-pitched gibberish, eliciting cackles of laughter from her captor.
Pressing the shards of glass against her throat, anticipating the warm flow of lifeblood to follow, Card Slinger whispered, “Ta-night, I finish what we started.”
~
Babs Seed woke with a start, gasping for breath, coughing and sputtering saliva all over her sheets. Heart racing, she began to feel for her throat, searching for the wounds and blood she was sure were there. She stared back at her hooves as she retracted them, finding them clean.
Panting, she said to nopony in particular, “Bad dream. Dat’s all it was. A bad dream.”
She waited for the thundering foal in her chest to seize her run, for the shivers down her spine to end. Three days. It had been three days since her last nightmare. While staying at Sweet Apple Acres, Babs Seed had experienced a nightmare in one manner or another every night, waking up in a pool of cold sweat. Somehow, her tosses, turns, and cries in the darkness didn’t bring Apple Bloom out of her own slumber on the cold, hard ground.
The last night she had slept there, with Apple Bloom in her hooves, the nightmare had ceased, but all other moons that had watched her slumber graced her with night terrors.
Maybe I jus' can’t sleep alone anymo'.
Coming down from her adrenaline high, Babs quietly slipped out of bed, taking careful steps on the creaking floorboards. Performing the best imitation of a mouse she could muster, she slipped past her door, then tried the doorknob of her sister’s room.
To her surprise, it was unlocked.
Spread-eagle on the bed, snoring with a deeper voice than she had ever used in the daytime, Citrus Blossom was dead to the world, dreaming of fashionistas and designer jewelry. Babs paused, shooting a sideways glance at the clock. 0200. Witching Hour. The magic was strongest right now; perhaps that was why she had awoken.
Poking Citrus in the shoulder, Babs whispered, “Pssst… Citrus? Psst… hey, Citrus? … CITRUS!”
With an abrupt snort, the mare woke with a start. “Huh? What?!”
“It’s jus' me, sis.”
“Oh, Babs, honey. Did you have a bad dream?”
Tail between her legs, the foal nodded sadly in affirmation.
Positioning herself one one half of the bed, Citrus Blossom replied sweetly, “Come here. You can sleep with me tonight.”
“Thanks, Citrus.” Climbing into her sister’s bed, Babs said, “I’m sorry ta wake youze up. I…I jus'—”
“Shhh.” Citrus wrapped her hooves around her sibling, pulling her close. “It’s alright, my dear. The moon doesn’t always grant us sweet dreams. Even I get them sometimes.”
Eyes wide, Babs whispered incredulously, “Youze really do?”
“Oh, but of course! Could you imagine what it would be like to visit one of your mentors, one of the best dressmakers in all of Canterlot, and find out that the dress she custom-stitched for you, thread by thread, all by hoof was three sizes too small? And she expected you to show it off for her on the runway on top of that?!”
Youze is so ridiculous. Superficial, sure, but it’s a special kind o' superficial.
Babs Seed snorted. “Naw, I guess I couldn’t imagine summat like dat.”
“You see?” Citrus smiled gently. “Nopony is immune. But you don’t have to go through these nights alone if you don’t want to, okay?”
Sighing, feeling gravity begin to pull her eyelids to the crust of the Earth, Babs Seed replied, “Oh … kay.”
Soon, the filly had drifted off again, snoring peacefully in Citrus’ hooves.
Slumber would not return to the older Orange as easily. She stared off somewhere beyond the moon, worry on her brow.
Babs Seed told her it had been a good day, excitedly weaving a tale of the Manehatten CMC’s first meeting, proud of her leadership skills. Citrus had beamed, pulling her sister in a tight embrace and expressing the utmost pride. It seemed like the little seed was beginning to sprout at last.
Dinner had been uneventful, collard greens and sweet potatoes with cinnamon and sugar. Delicious. Father was engaged in a long round of golf, eighteen holes hanging a business deal in the balance, and Mother was busy in the mansion’s office, typing away lines of figures on a small typewriter. It was just Citrus, Allspice, and Babs, digging deep into their plates and begging for more.
After dinner, Babs had retreated to her room with a pile of homework, and Citrus had perused a fashion magazine until sleep called her name. She’d heard no cries, no whimpers, no frustrated screams beyond her western wall. All seemed quiet on that front.
No, it had been a rare, calm evening, and she could think of nothing that would prompt Babs Seed's night terrors.
Finding the night beginning to whisper her name again, teasing her eyelids, Citrus Blossom relaxed into her bed, marking it in her brain to ask Babs Seed about the nightmares, to probe right down into their depths, even if she had to drag Luna alongside her.
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Theres nothing there...
1774153 Unpublished
NEW CHAPTER IS UP, THANK YOU KNIGHTY FOR FIXING THIS. ALL OF MY
1750282
He fits so damn well.
Enjoying the fic, keep it up!
1777691
Thanks Toa!
Interesting.
I found a mistake that slipped past Kighty, however.
One cannot be both psychotic and sociopathic. If you are psychotic it means that you have no moral code at all, whereas sociopathic people have a moral code, although it simply fails to line up with normal peoples.
Other than that, this is a good chapter. I liked her nightmare the most.
1777751
Thanks for catching the mistake! I will go ahead and revise, because he is meant to be a psychopath (Bernie is more of a sociopath).
That nightmare was pretty intense to write.
Great chapter! I can't wait for more.
YE
NEW CHAPTA
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
Alt. Title: The BabsFather Part II
You may not understand this but Rainbow Dash = Captain Jack Harkness.
1777782 That isn't what A Sociopath is. Here, I'll just cut and paste the definition here.
SOCIOPATH
A person with a personality disorder manifesting itself in extreme antisocial attitudes and behavior and a lack of conscience.
1777680 I got to say Card Slinger is inspiring me to commit some ultra-violence myself.
1777435 Nothing is impossible Mi'lord
1777858
Now I have two allergies: MSG and that picture. HNNNNNNNNNG
1777953
"I want their foals, dead! I want their parents, dead! I want their clubhouse burnt to the ground!
1778056
You're right, I don't understand.
1778074
Learn something new every day. Still...some of those characteristics are quite fitting.
1778135
Oh, I'm sure we all do...what will happen, indeed?
1778363
th09.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/f/2011/114/0/0/a_clockwork_pinkie_by_johnjoseco-d3esoi5.jpg
1778479 Maybe Card Slinger goes after Babs Seed and she discovers her special talent for planting punks into the pavement, heck she already laid Boone out like a sack of manure. She could grow up to be Manehatten's loose cannon cop cleaning up the corruption in law enforcement and making the city safe for the next generation. And now I want to watch a Lethal Weapon/Die Hard marathon again.
1778578
Babs Seed as a loose cannon cop?
iambrony.jsmart.web.id/mlp/gif/163407__UNOPT__animated_babs-seed.gif?1354168504
I can totally see it!
And now I NEED to watch Die Hard again. Dammit, kirbuu, you're too awesome tonight.
only two words can describe this story awesome souse
Humanized version:
You are not defined by your thighs!
1777751
TL;DR Both a little off and backwards with that; sociopaths are associated with a lack of empathy or conscience.
Psychopaths typically have a brain disorder that makes it hard to sort information in a easily retrievable way. We have 2 hemispheres in our brains left and right (left brained people vs. right brained people.) Left side deals with language and logic and the right is the visual, auditory, and creativity centers. Normally the two halves work in harmony with dominance leaning in one direction or the other. Science has shown a correlation with psychopaths and issues with the Corpus Callosum which is the band that connects the two halves of the brain. Without the two halves of the brain working together correctly it makes it hard to understand what societal norms are and why they exist. Not all psychopaths are axe murders, some in fact there is a lot of correlation between psychopaths and successful business men and politicians.
So Sociopaths have no moral code but are extremely calculating because they can understand the rules, and they know the consequences of their actions and don't want to get caught, so they do everything in their power to ensure they can continue their activity of choice.
Meanwhile psychopaths have a moral code, it just tends to be very skewed because they don't understand why society has the rules it does. When they go axe swinging mode it tends to be a result of a Psychopathic Break where their lack of understand overwhelms them and they start doing what ever they want. Very impulsive and they tend to be sloppy.
1778695
Thanks, friend!
1778753
Thank gawd. I'll never diet again.
1778841
I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Don't worry about the comment, I can see what you mean. I don't leave my home or car without a knife and mace in my pocket. Once I hit the big 2-1 it's concealed carry time for me. But yeah, no worries, the father is an asshole of a character and if you don't hate him at this point I would be a little surprised.
1778965
I'm sorry, bud. That sucks.
1779087
1779434
(I'm in touch with emotions and my conscious but I will drop them off a cliff to keep myself aligned with my personal code of conduct.)
Yep sociopaths understand and see everything and they do their best to make sure nothing ever goes wrong.
I find serial killers fascinating, and I've seen several documentaries, and not because I'm a, or future, psycho killer, but because I ultimately want to become a detective and hunt them down. I think it would be fun to test my mind against theirs, and for several reasons I believe myself to be a 'highly functioning' sociopath.
I'm worried about babs something awful now and wonder if she is a filly fooler.(mare lover)
1779478
At work, we have the TV running 24/7, but can only watch news channels (FOX, HLN, MSNBC, etc.). We usually flip on to MSNBC or HLN and watch a bunch of those "crime specials". It's a guilty pleasure, but I love 'em.
That's pretty badass that you want to be a detective! I'm just fascinated by the forensic science, but listening to professional criminal profilers and psychologists who work with the accused is pretty fascinating too. Highly functioning sociopath huh? Interesting! 
I think one of my friends might be like that too...at least he says he is.
1779539
Hmm. Out of curiosity, what would you think if she was?
Must...Resist...Easy...Politician...Jokes!
Yup, knew I shouldn't have checked for updates before sleeping... curses. Take it as a complement cause I couldn't wait to read this... sleep was made to wait!
... and now with bad dreams in play.... I can't help but to expect Luna
Which is ... horrible? One should not have to require one with the other there... and yet there that thought is... I fear this maybe complete babel fueled by exhaustion...
Eh, I'm amazed by the speed you update this baby. Thanks for that by the way. Cya round next chapter... sleepy.... sleepy yes
1779544
, and they'll make my, hopefully, future job much easier 
. They can take the smallest and most innocuous thing in the world, like a piece of fiber, and build an entire case with irrefutable evidence on it. It makes for stupid killers being extremely easy to catch, and the more calculating ones an interesting game; which you will, almost inevitably, win.
Forensics are pretty damn cool
1779967
1780596
Get some sleep, friend! Thanks for the compliments, glad you are enjoying the ride!
1780992
It definitely looks like an interesting field. Our current technology turns the most miniscule things, like you pointed out, into leads and cold cases into hot trails. It's a chess game, for sure, and it's always good seeing justice call checkmate.
1781361
Interesting!
We'll just have to see what becomes of that, but I'm glad you approve so far!
1781624
Now I'm listening to this song on loop. SO. CATCHY.
Well, twists at least...
Twists and turns in here, huh?
1774153 Update glitch sire
1779539 She already is sire
1781624
poniloader.com/submissions/21/%7B68E4B15D-2926-A31D-1EA1-32B48123A897%7D-all-my-wut-th.jpg
1778479 Captain Jack is basically a character from Doctor Who and Torchwood who flirts with everyone and I mean everyone.
1782039 most excellent my good sir!
1783899 Was there ever a doubt mi'lord? I am quite outstanding
Bad_seed will you be updating soon?
1784008
I'm working on the next chapter right now.
I might not be publishing it until much later tonight, though. Tomorrow evening at the very latest, barring an engagement I'm heading to very soon lasts longer than expected.
1784278
1783971 let us head forth into this grandiose tale of finding ones true self and overcoming evils inside and out, and lastly to fall into the depths of love and passion and walk the path least traveled to claim the heart of the fair maiden applebloom!
Can i expect any more romance? Hopefully not with Applebloom but maybe some-pony else?
Lovin this fic. The word choice you use in these chapters is just awesome.
All's quiet on the western front.
I hope Babs' bullies get what they deserve.
Where's Discord when you need him?
4688716
Nah, what you need is the "Lobsterbacks" or otherwise known as the "Redcoats" setting up patrols everywhere
I hope when tirek gets freed they suffer!