Chapter 13 - Becoming
“…the sad part is, that I will probably end up loving you without you for much longer than I loved you when I knew you.
Some people might find that strange.
But the truth of it is that the amount of love you feel for someone and the impact they have on you as a person, is in no way relative to the amount of time you have known them.”
― Ranata Suzuki
Once upon a time I read a fanfic wherein Twilight Sparkle was a steampunk mad scientist who falls in love with the Mare in the Moon. The set-pieces described were so breathtaking and imagination inspiring that it did make some sense that I should find myself having tea with Nightmare Moon in the middle of Twilight Sparkle’s lab/library. Nightmare was wearing a tophat and a dress that looked like it was responsible for the deaths of many a taffeta and lace creature (had such a thing existed). As for myself, I was wearing a dress that was more utilitarian, to go with my overall motif of being a mare of tinkering and engineering. The clockwork mechanisms on my forehooves that worked in place of fingers only solidified the image.
“The Tree is infested? That is...not good.” Moon fretted.
I nodded, using a claw-like appendage to drop a sugar cube into her teacup. “One thing they never did explain in the show was why Celestia allowed the Tree to go unmonitored for a thousand years. For you, it makes sense, what with being...ah...otherwise occupied,” I nodded at her as she lifted the cup with her magic.
“‘tis yet another thing about my sister’s reign that will have to be addressed once I return to the throne.”
By unspoken agreement, we didn’t pursue that particular line of conversation. We had come to brawls by her or I pushing the issue of her eventual return and what would happen after. Consequently, we didn’t discuss the show very much, either. She absolutely refused to accept that any version of events that depicted her losing to her sister to be prophetic.
“On the plus side, it looks like young Rosewood is going to be trained as a cleric. His parents are thrilled, of course.” I took a sip of tea, allowing the fictional aroma to waft into my dream senses. After a moment or two I noticed that Nightmare hadn’t responded. Glancing over, I noticed that she seemed to be staring off into space.
“Moon?”
It seemed she realized she was zoning out and shook her head. “‘tis nothing,” she said unconvincingly, “Merely a particularly challenging day.”
I’m sure it may be possible to describe the incredulity with which I glared at her, but it may require dream logic to assess the sheer quantities of doubt I metaphorically assailed her with using my gaze and expression.
“Yes!” she barked back, “Yes, I know, I don’t actually have ‘long days,’ just this one, long, unending night where I may look up and see my sister’s sun and the whole of Equestria and beyond so far out of reach yet tantalizingly in view, reminding me of my prison!” To my surprise tears started to form in her eyes, “My every hour not spent in this microcosm of a dream realm spent…alone, so alone…”
The steampunk setting dissolved when I wasn’t looking and I reached out a hand to clasp her wrist, “Moon…?”
She looked up to meet my eyes, then flicked her own back down to the hand holding her wrist, “I’m sorry, my…friend…I must go.”
Abruptly the setting disappeared like smoke that quickly enveloped Nightmare Moon, her usually confident or angry eyes rimmed with bloodshot red and tears trickling down her face. The moment all of her form was obscured from my vision, her wrist disappeared from my hand and I was grasping through the smoke, “MOON!”
My eyes snapped open, my lips already in the shape to repeat what I had just spoken during the dream. Almost instantly, I snapped them closed, wondering if what I was experiencing was a mana headache or if someone had just hit me in the back of the head with a hammer. All told, it matched what I’d heard hangovers felt like during my human life, right down to feeling like I wanted to unleash the contents of my stomach on the unsuspecting bed without moving my head…which would be really disgusting to do as a changeling, as we had several glands that could spew out numerous chemicals, from toxins to glue.
I had been woken up briefly once Chrysalis got the little retinue back to Thicket, gave a very short briefing along with the rest of the troup, and given a sleeping potion to help me get through the night. I suspect that the “potion” was more like a few herbs in what felt like a gallon of water and the hydration was more medicinal than the herbs. I had apparently slept through the rest of the day and through the night if the early morning sunlight streaming through the branches above the gap in the tree that made up a window was any indication.
A quick ping of the hivemind confirmed her presence before I said, “Mom?”
“Yes?” came the quiet reply.
“Can changelings survive getting their heads cut off? ‘cause right now my…everything hurts above the neck.”
Her response was simply to chuckle and gently stroke down my back, avoiding the spot where my neck met my torso as that seemed to feel just as on fire as the rest of me.
Several hours later, during which time I was not able to get back to sleep, we made our way to the breakfast table, at which there was a potion mercifully provided by our reindeer hosts for combatting headaches caused by visions. Apparently, cases like Rosewood’s suddenly blossoming into having awareness of more spiritual manifestations and my own encounter with what, for all intents and purposes, was a higher power were not terrifically uncommon in Thicket. At least, they were common enough to mean a specially brewed potion just for treating the after-effects of the experience were readily available.
Not long after we were getting ready to leave. While we hadn’t come for a long trip by any means, it also wasn’t slated to be as short as it wound up being.
“Are you sure we can’t convince you to remain, Chrysalis?” enjoined King Aspen, “We’ve barely gotten you settled in.”
Chrysalis shook her head, clearly reluctant to leave, “As much as I do enjoy the times we’re able to meet in peace like this, I…the confirmation of my daughter’s…’visions,’ for lack of a better term, seen with my own two eyes…it changes things. I need to prepare my hive.”
“Oh, sure, now you believe me.” I rolled my eyes and smiled wryly at Aspen and his wife, “Fresh from the shell with thirty-plus years experience in my head from an alien world and it takes an overgrown silicon bush that needs a professional gardener to convince her.”
Chrysalis rolled her eyes in exasperated response. “By your own admission, daughter, your very presence shows that we are in a differing timeline from that which you saw in your…’teevee shows.’”
Aspen chuckled in confused amusement, “Well, I know from my subjects that having an oracle for a child can bring about it’s own unique challenges. We shall pass along the formula for the post-vision potion should you need it in the future.”
Soon after, we had made it back to the train tracks and intercepted a rail car, the transition this time being more complicated by having to arrive from above and match speed with the moving vehicle. From there, we took an afternoon connection at Ponyville (too little time to play tourist again, darnit), and headed south to the Badlands.
“So,” I started once the seats around us were fully occupied by our changeling escorts, providing plenty of privacy, or as much as could be had on an early sleeper car on a train, “‘Changes,’ huh?”
This pulled Mamma Chrysalis out of some obvious introspection, “Hmm? Oh, yes. Merely reviewing the memories of this show you brought to the hivemind upon your awakening…though I’m getting a rather…confusing jumble…” Now confused myself, I tilted my head a bit with an inquiring grunt. She continued, “There’s many narratives, including… more alicorns? Something called ‘anthro’ and duplicates… and what is ‘clop’?”
I am still not sure how my carapace didn’t spontaneously combust from the embarrassment I experienced in that moment. This wasn’t just your mom finding your porn stash, this is your mom having a full download of your complete Internet history right to her brain…and the brains of every single one of your relatives.
“OKAY!” I said way too loudly, “We’re gonna talk about fandoms, fan created works, and why it’s important to clear your browser history!”
“So with all the…many…different versions of the stories from the show that branched from the timeline into fan…fiction?” she quirked her head to the side.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“But if it’s prophetic storytelling…” she trailed off.
I clearly had done nothing to clarify things for her. “Okay,” I was saying that alot today, “The thing is, the creators of the show didn’t know they were being prophetic for you. Hmm…how to explain this…” I tapped my hoof against my chin in thought, “So you know how if you pick up a book, say a Fetlock Holmes story, before you read it the first time, all you know about it is the title, maybe a picture if the publisher put one on the cover, and the author’s name?” At her nod, I continued, “So you read it the first time, and it’s new and exciting and you don’t know what’s on the next page. Let’s say you finish the book and want to read it again. If you do so, does your reading of it change anything about that story?”
She knew from long experience with our many, many talks together that I was leading up to a point, but she clearly had no idea what that point might be, “...no? Of course it wouldn’t, the book is finished.”
“Ah-ah,” I chastised gently, “This is multiverse theory, which is only a hair more confusing than string theory; there’s no ‘of course’ or ‘obviously’ when it comes to multiverse theory.” She rolled her eyes at me but otherwise remained quiet.
“To continue, let’s say you were adapting this book into a stage play. You’d have to go back and re-write it, but you want to remain faithful to the book, so you do your best to match the dialogue and the blocking, but it just won’t work because a book is not a stage production. You gotta adapt some things. The major points are there, plot beats, act structure, climax, denoument, etcetera, but some of the dialogue winds up just a little bit different. That’s OK, ‘cause it’s telling the story overall correctly, right?” At her nod, I continued, “So let’s say you read the story, then you get a brain injury that makes you forget you read it due to…let’s say a teleportation accident. You wind up in another part of the world entirely that’s never heard of Fetlock Holmes, and near as you can figure, there’s no way home for you, so you settle in to live your life. After a while, you get this idea for a mystery story featuring a detective with a doctor assistant who goes about assisting the guard in solving crimes. You write out the plot as you think it up, but you don’t realize you’re remembering it, ‘cause you don’t remember the original time you read it and there’s no way to get a copy of the book, so as far as you or anyone else around you knows, you’re the author of the book, right?”
I could tell her mind was beginning to grasp where I was taking this, but not completely, “Are you suggesting that the humans of your world are…transposed Equestrians, similar to yourself?”
I chuckled, “No, nononono…no, thank heavens. Don’t need another ‘Five Score’ incident in the multiverse…although that does raise the question…” I shook my head to clear it, “Getting off track! The point is, the original story doesn’t change based on the re-writing of it, nor is the new ‘author’ magically manifesting the original story. Even if some means of travel is uncovered and the fans of the ‘new’ version find the old version, that doesn’t change the story, nor does it mean that one somehow manifested the other.”
I waved my hoof, “This is where the analogy breaks down, so I’ll just try to explain it as literally as possible.” I thought for a moment to formulate my words, “So the universe is infinite, right?” she nodded and I continued, “Well, by extrapolation, then, the multiverse is also infinite. It stretches to the absolute limits of imagination and beyond, each distinct reality from the four basic multiverse types has such unbounded variety that any conceivable thing you could imagine exists out there somewhere. It’s literally a calculation of ‘infinity to the fourth power times infinity to the infinite power,’ you think it, it exists. Just thinking of it doesn’t create it, but it does create a connection, even if it is just a metaphysical one.”
Chrysalis put a hoof to her head and started rubbing, “...and you think running a hive is complicated? How do you even think of this stuff?”
“Eh,” I shrugged, “I was diagnosed with ADHD…er, Attention Defficite Hyperactivity Disorder, when I was a kid. I didn’t buy it at first ‘cause it was too close to my step-mom’s abusive accusations at me when she lied and told me what…guh, nope, not going to go over that. That’s a dead life and I’m…over it…”
I’m not sure if it was the near sob I choked down or the fact that I couldn’t seem to blink fast enough to stop the tears from forming, but Momma Chrysalis’ attention became laser focused on me, “My child, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing…” I waved a hoof, “Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing…I’m dead, I’m sure she’s dead by now, it’s a dead issue. Back to multiverse theory…”
“No,” she interrupted as she got up from her couch seat and squeezed herself onto mine, “I don’t think it’s nothing. Your wife and daughter aren’t ‘nothing’ and I helped you, still help you with that, so this is something, too.” I heaved a shuddering sigh but didn’t say anything, by now looking at the floor. “Daughter, please, speak to me.” She quietly settled in and just waited, knowing by now I needed to gather my thoughts when she asked me probing questions about my human life.
“...she lied.” I finally said after a couple of minutes of silence, “I…one time…” I gulped down a sob, “One time…I mean, she always hated me. I didn’t figure out why until I got older and away from her, but turned out she just hated…men. And here I was growing up to become one, even if I knew there was something wrong with that, I didn’t even know until I was an adult that people…humans could change their gender, I just knew I wanted to be a girl so bad…but my step-mom…she hated men, and hated men who wanted to be women more.”
The confusion from Chrysalis was so palpable I could taste it, “But…why?”
“Figures,” I barked out a tearful laugh, “That a race of beings that can change their entire body at whim wouldn’t understand that…but I don’t wanna explain TERFs right now. My stepmom hated me. She always found ways to hurt me without touching me, and maybe even that. I can’t remember some parts of being a teenager,” I took a deep breath and continued, more able to tell this part, I’ve had to explain it so many times in my previous life that it was almost comfortable to talk about. “My sister, she told me once that she watched as my stepmom beat me. I don’t remember. I don’t remember so many times where I should because I can remember school, I can remember walking home and dreading getting there…but I don’t remember what happened after getting home.”
“One day, she…my stepmom…told me that if I couldn’t bring home a completed homework sheet every day, I wouldn’t get dinner.” I didn’t bother explaining the homework sheet. If Momma Chrysalis was really interested, I could explain another time, “Well, because I had ADHD and this was before it was properly understood or even diagnosed in most cases and the medications for it were sometimes worse than the condition, I pretty much never had a completed homework sheet. So I’d just come home, put the homework sheet on the dinner table, then go to my room to read or just lay in bed until I fell asleep.” I started shaking and I couldn’t figure out why, “I was…so hungry. I would wake up sometimes at night and sneak up to the kitchen and try to grab a slice of bread or a handful of chips, hoping I didn’t wake anyone up.” I could feel tears dripping down my muzzle by this point. I don’t think I’d told this story to more than three people while I was human. The telling of it wasn’t as familiar as the memory gap story, “I would eat as much cereal in the morning as I thought I could get away with and pretend nothing was wrong at school. I thought,” by this point my voice was shaking as well, “‘Today I’ll remember. I’m so hungry there’s no way I could possibly forget to get my homework sheet signed,’ then I’d start imagining some story in class or start reading a book I liked or something just to distract myself from being bored and hungry and I’d wander to my next class and forget and…”
“...and then I’d be walking home and I’d be hungry and remember the homework sheet in my backpack and I knew I wouldn’t be getting dinner and…” I couldn’t stop the words by this point and Chrysalis was holding me close, stroking my mane and cooing gently to me, “I sometimes would sneak into a grocery store on the way and steal some candy or bread ‘cause I didn’t have any money and I couldn’t eat proper food…my aunt,” I sobbed at this point finally able to take a breath, “Years later my aunt was watching me eat and said that prisoners of war would sometimes eat and eat and take whatever food they could even years later ‘cause while they were prisoners they never knew when their next meal would be, and I think she meant it as a joke but I went to therapy and found out it was because of PTSD…and she lied about it!” Chrysalis seemed confused for a moment before I continued, “My stepmom lied to my face! Months later after I’d gotten used to just not eating dinner she asked me why I never ate with everyone else and I told her, ‘cause I kept forgetting my homework sheet and she asked me what I was talking about and I said, ‘you said that I couldn’t have…’” I couldn’t speak for a few minutes by this point, unable to control my crying enough to form words.
By the time my sobbing settled enough to be able to speak, I had to clear my throat and blow my nose to make a coherent sentence, “I said, ‘You told me I couldn’t have dinner if I didn’t have a completed homework sheet.’” My face twisted up in fury, “And she LIED!!!” I growled out, “She said she never said that!” I was now shaking in anger, tears still streaming down my face still. “I spent…months…maybe a full year literally starving myself because I was afraid of a punishment from her that would be worse than starving. And I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Why not?”
Chrysalis might not have known why that innocent sounding question would have triggered even more crying, but she did have access to my memory via the hivemind and knew me pretty well by this point, so maybe she had an idea... I curled up a bit, my muzzle between my fetlocks as yet more sobbing escaped before I was able to compose myself enough to speak again, “Because they always believed her!” Even as I said the words, I realized that I was hurting far more from the entire debacle than I had thought. “It didn’t matter what I said, if she told the school or CPS or the cops anything different than what I said, they always…” I stomped on the seat angrily, “...believed…” another stomp, “...her!” This prompted another crying jag, but this time I forced the words out through the anger and pain, “I had nobody to tell, because nobody believed me!”
The only accompaniment to my sobbing was the clacking of the train over the tracks. The nearby disguised changelings giving us space even as they functioned as guards. I heard the door to the car slide open and the conductor took in a breath, probably to request tickets. He seemed to catch the mood of the space and remained quiet. I heard the gentle murmuring of the pony as he checked the tickets of the other “passengers,” all changelings who’d been slipped their tickets by the ‘ling who was assigned to this particular train. By the time he got to our bunk I had managed to control my breathing, but I was still curled up with my head buried in my arms and Chrysalis had pulled me close to snuggle against her. Oddly, I found I missed the smooth coolness of her carapace as she cuddled me close to her pony disguise.
“Madam…oh, thank you,” said the conductor as Chrysalis showed him our tickets in her magic. As he stamped them, he asked in a concerned voice, “Is…everything alright?”
I actually heard a smile in her voice as she replied, “Oh, yes, thank you for your concern. My daughter is just…processing something that happened years ago. She’s normally very cheerful and would probably ask you dozens of questions about trains if she were feeling better.”
The old stallion chuckled as the rustle of his jacket broadcast the action of putting the ticket stamper away, “I’ve got two fillies and about six grandfoals, believe me, I’ve been there.” He clearly didn’t realize he was speaking to someone several hundred times more senior to him, “Don’t worry, young filly, just keep showing her love even if you don’t ‘get it’ and she’ll love you back, even when she catches the dreaded ‘teenage-itis.’”
Momma Chrysalis giggled and even I let the corner of my mouth creep up a degree or three. “I’ll keep that in mind, and thank you again.”
The stallion passed through the rest of the car, and after a bit I was able to un-curl and wipe the remains of the tears from my eyes. Chrysalis nuzzled me gently, “I…didn’t realize your stepmother hurt you so badly.”
I sighed, still shuddering my breath from my crying jag, “Yeah. I learned from her how to lie. How to break promises and not get called out. How to cheat and steal.” I was just short of whining like a canine with another sob that I managed to contain. “I wouldn’t figure out that was at all strange until my mid-20s. I just thought all kids had to deal with something like it growing up. People got confused when I asked how to tell what’s true and not.”
Chrysalis’ mouth quirked into a smile, “It’s one of the great ironies of our species that we, the masters of deception, must value truth more than anything, or we lose ourselves in the lies we must tell others just to live.”
We spent most of the rest of the trip back to the badlands in comfortable silence.
My old night terrors returned that night. Cooking meat that made me frightened for reasons I couldn’t explain, an eldritch abomination in the next door neighbor’s house, the ‘office’ that I was never supposed to even open the door to, and the nagging feeling that everything except that prison in my dreamscape was the entirety of my existence and I’d never, ever know anything different dominated my sleep. Even the one where I was across from my stepmother in the living room with the feeling of my life being choked from me even though she wasn’t touching me made an appearance. They were all so normal for me, and some part of my sleeping mind must have realized how…sad that was, because in addition to the frenzied terror that always accompanied these hell-dreams, there was just a sense of…sadness, like I was aware of how horrible it was that I was used to being locked in this sort of nightmare.
Nightmare Moon didn’t return to stop them, and when I woke up I worried for her.
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Wow, I hope things are better now based on what was put in the author's notes. Also, glad to see this update.
Sometimes, I remember why I feel guilty about having a loving mother and a father that's... strict but fair, I guess. I'm so sorry, dear. *hug*
That... I'm sorry to hear what all happened to you in this part.
Not sure if it's sad but everything I learned about the multiverse I learned from Rick and Morty...
Although I did learn about infinity and infinities way back in the 70's from a paperback my dad had from about the 60's-- I had a jump start on reading in when I was four due to my dad having boxes upon boxes of pulp fiction and ye olde Dell 10-cent comics. Scared the teachers how I was a few grades above "normal" comprehension yet due to crippling social interaction ("shy") I was labeled and shuttled off to the "special development kids" section. Heh, even had to see a psychologist at the institute for a bit. Huzzah! I'm not insane! Or, at least they let me go after I tricked them enough before going to high school.
[Sorry, rambling on here]
But it's all ok. I work in Retail, going on 30 years now, and being unstable is a requirement (we'll teach you how if you aren't already).
Interesting, I hope you are doing better now. Have a hug. *hug*
Whoof. I have Childhood PTSD and totally know the utter mental manipulations that a parent can pull, especially on a young mind. Hindsight and all that but damn.
That's all I can say.
.....I Feel For You.
Ypu should have never gone through that. Some poeple should never be parents.
Magnificent chapter update. There are truly vile people on this world.
A sad situation that get better over time. Reincarnated so one could finaly deal with all the pain...
Love Mother Chrysalis version
Didn't experience that for ourself but we've known those who have. We do hope things are ever improving for you.
It's rather fortunate she's accepted her presence irrevocably altered any possible ability of maintaining the "true canon". Would that others catch on to the futility of trying to keep things as expected...
It really is too bad they had to leave the deer so soon, but some things just can't wait. 💅
Noted
your step mother wouldn't have happened to be named 'Fawn' by any chance. from what you described, your evil step-creature and my evil step-creature where cut from the same cloth. when i sought help, i got told to "stop lying in order to get my stepmother in trouble" you remember years ago, when they still put Sobies in glass bottles? I offered her a sip of the grape Sobie i had just bought at winco, she angrely snatches the bottle from me and SMASHES it across my face (i still have the scars) in the winco parking lot because the "hated grape." she got away with it because the social worker (i don't know how she had that job) was told that "I did it to myself for the attention" and wouldn't believe a word i said because it was just "attention seeking behavior." i have severe trust issues because the people i was supposed to be able to trust to help me, didn't care.
all children deserve parents, but many people don't deserve to be parents.
Are you sure you should be sharing that stuff I mean the Internet isn't the most friendly of places?
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Thank ALL of you for your thoughts and well-wishes! I have been through therapy, and I'm in a much better place now. I'm in a stable relationship, a good home, and I have a cat, can't discount that.
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Seems like the authorities were real eager to institutionalize kids back in the day, I haven't even touched on my time in the mental hospital in the fic yet.
Another old person!
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Yeah, just the existence of a new changeling queen heir changes the waveform. No point in trying to preserve the timeline when your very existence is the penny on the rails.
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Nope, Kay. Just proves that evil is the same, no matter how many shades it has.
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Pretty much everything I've posted in this story I've posted publicly online elsewhere. Anyone targeting me, specifically, would already have access to all this.
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I might try to reconstruct the dialogue at some point, but for now, it's just Internet-alien-language-generator munged text. 
A long time ago now, I had the original text saved to a text file in case I needed to reference it. I...have no idea where that text file is now.
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It came from a place of authenticity, I'm glad it came across well.
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Good! I hope your cat is helping you with the aftereffects of having gone through that abuse. (What's your cat's name and breed?)
2018 was the last update before thst one...
Got to re-read the story to remember is... I read a lot since Covid keeps us inside...
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Uhm...Greater American Fuzz-factory? Dunno, she's white; her name is Ronnie and she's my favorite fuzzy!
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As far as "tone," one thing you'll find with damn near everything I write is it has blended tones:
Yeah, I needed something for the events we all know will be upcoming.
This is just an extension of my taste in anime and other media. One of my favorite book series is Half Moon Hallow, a silly romantic comedy series with an ever expanding cast including vampires and werewolves...but every single book includes some sort of mystery that's usually just hinted at. One of my favorite vintage anime is I, Me, My, Strawberry Eggs where it starts as a silly comedy about a guy having to cross-dress to get a job but turns into a hard look at Japan's Lolita/Electra Complex epidemic. Basically, if it's got layers, I like it, and the stuff I write will include layers by default.
...you get used to it.
I'm so sorry all of that happened to you. Some people are truly something awful. I'm glad things are better for you now. 💙
I'll leave my thoughts on the story for the future, but for the most part, I did really enjoy it. Especially the Chrysalis and Chrystal interactions, they're my favorite bit for sure. I appreciate the nod to the lore from the comics, even if it looks like you're taking it your own direction as well.
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Awww, she's so cute!
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Good To Hear.
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Speaking of pennies on railroad tracks: to those who don't know, this is a very dangerous activity. Do not attempt to flatten currency via train wheel compression! The track is not actually all that flat, and the penny usually becomes a high velocity projectile (depending on many factors) instead of being simply smushed. At best the penny rumbles off, at worse, you get hit with a disc-shaped bullet.
Annnd catched up... The Caribu ass kicking will be fun to read once you get to it
I know it's been said before, but what you suffered is horrifying.
PS, if the divorce and custody battle were also from personal experience, I'm sorry for your loss and wish you the best of luck. My country has its own share of heteronormative and transphobic family court judges, but I was horrified to read recently that the legal climate over there is even worse.
EDIT:
BTW, where exactly did you first state that Chrystal Amber was an isekai'd version of you?
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Funny enough, I did.
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I prefer fanfiction to the show myself.
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Same.
Most fanfics do it better (by having one person/vision that greatly reduces plotholes). I actually reached here first and watched just to understand who Twilight and Rainbow were (the fic took a fast left turn and definitely went AU) to better understand their thinking
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Sure but that still don't explain the frontal attack instead of a cover takeover.
Not only a hostile invasion would damage their food source what defense the ponies has, princesses and elements as you said, would be an unnecessary risk that could have been avoided.
Wow, heavy chapter here. Doubly so because it's a real life experience. I cannot pretend to relate, but I am glad to hear you are doing better.
On to the story:
I'm with Chrysalis on this one. Butterflies have already done so much work here that the timeline, at least in regards to changelings, is all but useless. Chrysalis is not a monologuing villain who rejects friendship as a concept. If we're looking at the actual show Chrysalis and compare it to this Chrysalis, then by multiverse theory we can argue that this is a different reality where Chrysalis, and changelings in general, are a lot more benevolent from the get go.
Even Nightmare Moon is showing cracks in her determination. I suspect that her current disappearance is that, with a genuine friend, she now has something else to distract her from her hatred, which has the unfortunate downside of also making her notice her prison, as the hatred itself served as a distraction from the prison.
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Canon changeling are pretty much locusts. They don't do the whole "infiltrate a nation for generations and passively absorb love" that is common in most fanfic changelings. They infiltrate to capture and replace ponies and eventually take over the place to feed, then move on to the next place when the food is exhausted. The invasion in the show was pretty much business as usual for changelings, albeit on a grander scale than usual, what with Equestria's size.
This year is turning into the "the return of the author" year holy.
This is the fourth story that has updated after not receiving any updates for four years.
Alright, fully caught up again after a reread. Can't wait for more! Hoping moony is alright.
Why do I get the feeling that poor Moony/Luna is gonna do something stupid?
Ouch, well, that got dark. Still, great to see more of this story.
11274811
They're intended to. As it's clearly going to be a while before I get to writing the scene the Caribou were put in this story for, but spoiler tags included if you'd rather wait:
Since this version of Equestria will now have a variance that will have a major political figure (Chrystal Amber) who is friendly to at least one of the diarchs, the invasion by the changelings isn't going to happen. My personal preference for disrupted timelines is whatever happens in the new timeline is going to "rhyme" with the original timeline, so an invasion will still take place that the original changeling invasion in canon spoiled. In this case, the caribou. I picked them because canon griffins were a fallen people, so no invading army there, dragons are primarily anarchic and don't have a standing army, the Storm King won't be active for a few years yet, and Sombra won't be back until after the wedding. Short of a major civil war, there was no good canon race/nation that would work as uncontested bad guys.
But the caribou? EVERYONE fuckin' HATES the caribou, so I get to throw them in as a LARGE amount of canon fodder.
I don't really consider this to be my best work, so your comments are not bothersome at all.
It's mostly just an exercise in getting out the emotions from the divorce that happened just two years prior to when I started this fic and using a plot idea that I'd started developing a few years before that. If anything, the fact that you're getting enjoyment and seeing depth to the fic at all is probably higher praise than it deserves. For fics that I REALLY feel are representative of my heart and soul, take a look at My Empire of Dirt/Music Box Blues (meant to be read together, pay attention to the in-chapter author's notes, please) and Deviation. </shameless_plug> 
11176713
The most hilarious part of this is my kiddo is now absolutely obsessed with creepy-core, dream-core, SCP, Five Nights, etc. She was surprisingly prescient.
I'm up to date again! It's good to see this story updated.
11306440
I'm still hoping to get this done by the end of this year (2022). Not sure when I'll get the next chapter out precisely (too many projects on my plate at the moment to give a reasonable estimate), but it's on my "active tasks" list.
i.postimg.cc/wTfVfk7w/image.png
11306570
Well, +1 to the list of people who will be happy to read it when it arrives.
11306570
Your doing good domt force yourself and take your time! This seems like a way for you to vent the thongs you been through. So write at the pace you want because writing something tramatic you been through can be hard.
Hang in their your an amazing person!
Hey, just finished reading this, I hope that life has treated you better than your past in recent days! You have made a very entertaining story, and I hope to see more from you in the future. Fair tidings traveller, it's dark out there, and there are many years of life's paths to follow yet. Stick to your stars, and stand your ground, the dawn will come!
11335826
Life has moved on, and things have gone both better and worse since the events reported in this story, the key difference is how long I spend in the "worse" parts and how I deal with them to get to the "better" parts as quickly as possible. If you're curious, you may want to check out My Empire of Dirt (make sure you pay attention to the Author's Notes and read Music Box Blues at the appropriate time or you may wind up confused); just like how I started writing Lost Little Wolf to process the trauma from my divorce, My Empire of Dirt was to process the trauma of being injured and homeless and the suicidal ideations that came from that experience...though perhaps more abstracted through Sunset Shimmer and Principal Celestia.
11368438
From a purely technical perspective, you're 100% right, that was the episode I was thinking of when I wrote that chapter. That said since I'm writing as a version of myself that doesn't have access to Wikipedia (or, indeed, the Internet), I'll call it a "this is what I thought it was called so I'll keep the text as is."
Update When?
11523596
Watch my blog, I'm slowly getting back into writing and managing my time well enough to get more regular releases. My health takes priority, followed by the means to keep paying for the roof over my head, but after that? Yeah, writing is still my favorite
hobbyobsession.NGL, I just stumbled across this story, and thought 'Hey. I had a similar idea for my OC.' Only difference is that she's not a reincarnation. I'm about to start the story, and I'm going to try and find more parallels.
11571799
It's only around for a couple of chapters, but I was constantly trying to intuit what bits of dialogue I could. Most of it I couldn't figure out, but I did figure out some phrases here and there. :)
I'm sorry you had to experience that kind of abuse. My own childhood experience was somewhat similar in many ways. Two neglectful and abusive parents, both separated and both shitty in their own ways. I grew up with autism and ADHD, not really understanding that my randomly occurring self-disgust and fascination with being a girl was because I was genderfluid, and was experiencing bouts of dysphoria when I swung far enough in the other direction... not to mention the shock of realizing I was bi/pan later on, around 15. And the whole "I never said that" thing... I had that happen to me many times. Hell, I had my mother tell me she didn't say something HOURS after she said it. I could repeat her exact words back at her and she'd somehow believe she never said them at all...
I'll tell a "my mom was shitty" story, but not a traumatizing one, since I'd probably spiral about it if it were. I remember for my 13th birthday, my uncle (not actually a relative, sort of adopted into the family) built me a computer. But soon after, my mom took the opportunity to get rid of her old computer, co-opt my new computer as her own, and later when I did something wrong she banned me from using it until I moved out at 18 and went to college (I only got it back because she got a new one). When I finally went to test my computer from 5 years prior... it was outdated. It wouldn't connect to anything, it barely ran compared to other computers I'd used since (at school and such), and all of the internal components were no longer sold and the ports were incompatible with newer components. To be honest, as minor as that incident is compared to all the other shit that happened with her (I won't even get into my father), I'm still genuinely kind of mad about it.
Honestly, it's so shitty that we were born into a world where parents can DO this to their kids, where people with authority and power can just... abuse it so maliciously. Don't people have ENOUGH problems to deal with as-is?
11574129
Ouch, I recognize exactly that kind of BS behavior, and I *know* it's just the tip of the iceberg.
I'm glad you're out of that environment.
I hope you keep up the great story.
11584069
Definitely going to finish this book, it's pretty close to finished (I'm talking, like, 3 or so more chapters depending on how long they turn out). I suffered a setback (yes, another one, blog post soon) but that's most cleared up and I'm back in the game.
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I feel like I need to correct you on one thing: the way you calculate binary is from right to left. So your examples are mirror-flipped.
11599975
Hey, no big-endian/little-endian arguing in the comments! Don't make me break out my Elder Goddess Nerd cred on you two!