//------------------------------// // Rumble's Batty Girlfriend // Story: Blue Moon Bloom // by Wise Cracker //------------------------------// Rumble wrapped up his arms for another class. The air in the changing room was thick with anticipation for the Blue Moon Bloom, at least for the few colts who had it on their minds. “So you are going to give Sweetie Belle a flower after all, then?” Lance asked as he put on his padding. Featherweight shrugged. “I don’t know, probably. You’re supposed to, if you like somepony, right? Just to be nice? And if she doesn’t like it, she can give a white flower back.” Lance nodded. “Right. You give her a blue flower, and she’ll give you a blue flower back or a white flower, or no flower. If it’s not blue, no harm done. That’s what everypony keeps saying.” “Might as well do it, then. Suppose she doesn’t get any flowers and she starts thinking she’s ugly? That wouldn’t be right.” Featherweight winced at the thought. “Exactly,” the dark grey colt replied emphatically. Rumble didn’t join in on the banter. He just tugged at the padding on his arms and the bandages on his legs, then tugged again, then tugged again, then tugged again. It was only when he found he might be cutting off some bloodflow that he stopped. Featherweight frowned. “What’s wrong?” Rumble looked at the nub-covered floor as the first few stallions poured out through the door and into the fighting hall. “Nothing.” Lance cocked an eyebrow at him. “You sure? ‘Coz it looks like it’s something.” “It’s just that dumb holiday, is all.” Rumble grumbled. “You don’t wanna give Chitter a flower? Or Scootaloo?” Lance asked. Rumble glared at the colt. Lance took a step back. “I’m just asking. If it’s really bothering you, you should talk to them. I mean, one of them, at least. Chitter’s probably gonna be hogging you tonight, she always does.” Rumble sighed. “Probably, yeah.” Featherweight leaned in. “You know, one of us can just take over sparring with her, if you’re really not okay with it.” Rumble shook his head. “Thanks, but I have to. Chitter wouldn’t like it if I started sparring with Scootaloo now, not again. One of you guys can train with Scootaloo, it’s no big deal.” Featherweight frowned again. “So… is Chitter your special somepony, then?” The boys of Ponyville always had each other’s backs. While Featherweight and Lance had never been too close with Rumble, they were the closest any of his classmates got. And if something was wrong, they knew him well enough to want to help. Not that they could, of course, but it’s the thought that counts. Rumble just shook his head. “It’s complicated.” Rumble had always had a fondness in his heart for grappling. Ever since he was little, he would attempt to jump his older brother and go for the arms or legs, which usually resulted in him being shaken off with little to no effort. That, or his brother would take him sightseeing around town until Rumble couldn’t hang on anymore, at which point Thunderlane would move the colt from his leg to his neck and carry him home. Now that he was more mature, though, at least as mature as a ten-year-old could think himself to be, he understood the mechanics of it better. He relished the lessons where he might learn to take down an opponent without hurting them, and then hurting them afterwards if they tried anything funny. It was a trait Twilight had said was rooted in his genetics, as apparently the strong stallions who could take prisoners alive were thought of very highly in the old days, and they’d passed some of that skill and instinct along to their descendants. It gave the colt a sense of responsibility, even nobility, to be able to use force without violence. And having a cute girl make full-body contact with him while he practised was icing on the proverbial cake. As vigorously as he would deny it, Rumble was and would always be a bit of a cuddler, one of the odd side effects of that genetic makeup. Rumble went down as Chitter practised the arm hold again. He let his wings spread out evenly and knocked the ground to break his fall, then relaxed as the girl gently put a hoof on his neck while keeping her other hoof occupied with locking his arm under her shoulder. “How’s that?” she asked. Rumble wriggled and bent his arm. “I can still move. That doesn’t hurt.” “How about now?” She lowered her grip to put more pressure on his cannon joint. Rumble gave the ground a few hurried pats. “Yup, that’s the spot.” She snickered. “Okay, then, your turn, Rumbley-Wumbley.” Rumble blushed as the batty girl helped him up. He looked over to Scootaloo, who was currently sparring with Lance. A rough tap on his chest stopped him from looking too long, though. Chitter glared at him, so Rumble just did the same lock Chitter had and sent her down. “How’s that?” Chitter winced and tried to wriggle her arm out of the lock. “Yup, you got it, ow.” Rumble released and let her up. “So have you got any plans for Blue Moon Bloom?” Chitter whispered. The boy let himself get locked and dropped again. “No, why?” “What do you mean, why? Haven’t you got a flower ready?” Rumble grumbled and sent the girl down, quite a lot faster than before. “I haven’t decided yet. I don’t think I want to give anypony a flower.” Chitter chuckled and nuzzled him while he was crouched over her. “Good thing rousettes aren’t ponies, then.” Rumble snapped his head away just as Master Ten called the exercise to a halt with a curt shout. The unicorn hadn’t been paying attention to their conversation, much to Rumble’s relief, but Scootaloo’s ears were perked up towards the pair. Rumble grumbled. “Could you please not do this now?” “Draining and blocking, go!” Master Ten called out. Chitter went straight for Rumble’s chest. “Gotta be faster than that, little bumblebee.” Rumble felt his energy leak out through the hoof on his chest, but it didn’t last this time. He took a deep breath and stopped the flow before countering, putting both his front hooves on her neck and pulling at her vital energy from two ends at a time. She slapped his arms off and pushed him away. “You’re awful touchy tonight, Rumble. Am I gonna have to fight to get a flower?” Rumble bit his lip. “No. I don’t know if I want to give any pony… anyone a flower. It’s complicated, okay?” Rumble looked away, and instantly regretted it. The first thing he felt when he looked back at the girl was her weight on him. The second thing he felt was a rush of vertigo. Thirdly, he felt the floor say ‘hi’ to his back. With Chitter’s fangs bared and throat letting off an ominous hiss, he quickly found himself without options. His left wing slapped her on the ear, his right followed shortly after. The shock stopped her attempted draining, and gave him some breathing room. Next he stuck out his arms towards her shoulders to push the girl off, then he rolled over so he’d be on top. Once he was in position, he crossed his arms and pressed against her neck, his whole body draped over hers. His belly pressed down on hers, their chests met, he was close enough for the girl to feel his hot breath. Chitter didn’t seem to mind. “Go on. You’re supposed to drain me now.” “Don’t push me like that. It’s not funny.” Rumble heard the sound of of three knocks on the mat. Chitter had surrendered. She rubbed her neck and flapped her bat wings a few times before squaring off in front of him again. “I’m sorry, Rumble, I just got a little excited. I guess you don’t really need to give me a flower, if you don’t want to. You just give one to whomever you like.” Rumble looked over to Scootaloo and Lance again. Had she heard their conversation? Had she heard any word of it? He looked around the dojo, to the other pairs of ponies sparring. Had they heard anything? It didn’t look like it; most of them were too busy practising their moves. That’s how it always went. Nopony ever noticed Rumble. Nopony saw or heard him. He could run right in front of a pony -- and had, in fact -- and they wouldn’t know it. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe he should just accept it and embrace it. Stealth was something to take pride in, after all. Blending in and being wholly unremarkable were good things. He was just a grey little boy, with no real voice and no lasting impression. It didn’t matter what he did. He just never showed up on anyone’s sights, it was simple as that. A knot formed in his stomach as bad, damningly familiar thoughts kept forcing their way up. He didn’t want to just burst out and cry, not there, not then. Something tapped under his chin. Chitter carefully pushed him back and sidestepped so he’d trip, but slowly. She leaned in close and smiled sympathetically once he was down. She put a front hoof on his chest, and Rumble could feel some warmth flowing back into him, banishing those awful thoughts of self-loathing. “You look like you could use a hug. Want me to save you one for after class?” Rumble gulped. “Yeah. Please do.” The train ride helped Rumble unwind. The little bumps left and right along with the sense of speed while not doing anything, it all felt like a comfy flight on someone’s back. It helped that he had good company, of course, as he always did on this ride. Sat next to Chitter on the train with her wing around him, Rumble couldn’t quite remember why he’d been angry at the girl. “So, Thunderlane, you got anything special planned?” Vinyl Scratch asked. And there came the reminder. Why did Princess Luna have to put that stupid old holiday back in the spotlight? Thunderlane smiled. “I’ve got plans, sure.” “Got a special filly waiting, then?” “Oh, you know how it goes. It’s complicated.” Thunderlane winked. Rumble let off a deep yawn. Scootaloo frowned at him. “Are you okay, Rumble?” Chitter rubbed her wing back and forth over the prone boy’s back. “Oh, he’s just worn out. He’ll be fine.” Rumble let his eyes fall shut for a moment, before shaking his head to wake up. “Huh? Did you say something, Scootaloo?” “I was just asking if you were fine.” “Sure, just tired. Must mean I had a good practice, right?” He smiled nervously and shuffled closer to the rousette for warmth. Scootaloo smiled awkwardly at the pair. “Yeah, of course. Do you still wanna do that thing we said?” “The thing?” Rumble arched an eyebrow, sitting up. “Oh, the thing. Sure, if you’re free tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got my own little spot to practise, not too far from my place.” Chitter pouted. “But aren’t you coming to dinner tomorrow?” Rumble turned to Thunderlane. Thunderlane stared his little brother down. “You did promise, Rumble. It’d be rude to call it off.” Rumble sighed. “I know, but there’s no reason I can’t do both, right? Dinner doesn’t start that early, and I really need the help with my flying. No offense, Chitter, but your wings just aren’t the same as mine.” He winced as he faced Chitter’s hurt expression. He looked back and forth from his feathered wings to Chitter’s bat wings, trying to look as apologetic as he could. The rousette girl, for her part, considered it. “I guess it’s not that big a deal. Just don’t wear him out, okay? Little Rumbley-Wumbley-Bumblebee’s gotta be in shape tomorrow night.” Scootaloo chuckled. “I’ll try to keep him in one piece.” Vinyl Scratch snickered to herself. She wasn’t sure if she should be patting Rumble on the back for having two girls fancy him or to feel sorry for him. She was tempted to try and give him some sage advice, but with his older brother there she couldn’t risk it. Still, at least Rumble was learning to handle girls gallantly and with consideration. That counted for something. She did wonder, though, just how much that batty girl could get away with. The train arrived, the ponies parted ways, and the rousette girl flew off into the night. Once they were alone in the dark streets, Thunderlane prodded Rumble’s side. “You okay, big guy?” Rumble kept his head low and yawned. “I don’t know. I’m just tired.” “Uhuh, then what was that with Scootaloo? You don’t want to go to dinner with Chitter anymore?” The colt bit his lip. “I don’t know. Maybe. Can’t I just stay home?” Thunderlane rolled his eyes. “You know you can’t, Rumble. You said you would, it’s your responsibility, and more importantly, it’s tradition. Besides, with your condition-” “What condition?” Rumble snapped. “I’m fine, okay? There's nothing wrong with me, just like there's nothing wrong with you.” Thunderlane almost choked on what he wanted to say. “You’ll feel better after tomorrow. And then you just have to tell Scootaloo you can’t see her. You know the rules.” Rumble growled and finally snapped. “Well, what if I don’t like the rules? What if I’d rather do something else? What if I wanna have a choice?” Thunderlane snorted. “Oh, you do, huh? That’s nice. I wonder what mom and dad would say if they heard that.” The boy stopped. His wings fell flat against his sides, his hooves dug into the dirt of the Ponyville street. “That’s low, big bro. That’s really low.” For the briefest moment, Thunderlane’s expression softened. “Sorry, Rumble. But you know what I mean. We all have to do things we don’t like sometimes, it’s part of growing up.” Rumble let out a dejected groan. “I know.” “It’s okay if you’re not looking forward to it, you know, but don’t give up on it just because you’re nervous. Things'll be better after tomorrow, you'll see. Besides, Chitter’s a smart girl, she’ll show you what to do. You just have to suck it up and go through with it,” the stallion offered. “It’s the sucking I’m worried about.”