As waiting rooms went, the one in Ponyville hospital was quite nice. Cushioned seats, soft carpeted floors, and colorful paintings held up by maple wood frames all seemed to fill the room with a subtly optimistic air.
To Cheerilee, it was a slap to the face. A mockery. The room was bright, but she couldn't have felt more in the dark. And as her gaze wandered around the room, her imagination was allowed to run wild with worst-case scenarios, with what could have been. Images of her student lying in a hospital bed, charred face contorted with anguish, hair burnt black and body marred with scarlet scars from the bottom of her hooves to the top of her head...
It terrified her.
Twilight's wing lay draped around her shoulders, feathers occasionally rubbing up and down over her back. It was an unsuccessful attempt to soothe her, but she accepted the gesture with a tiredness in her heart.
"She made it out," Twilight said quietly into her ear. "Spike got her out. She's okay. They're... they're both okay. It could have been worse..."
Twilight's calm assurance did not offer her any solace. Cheerilee closed her eyes.
"I know, Twilight." She gulped down a warm knot of phlegm. "I just... I can't believe this happened. To one of my students, no less."
Twilight leaned into Cheerilee, resting the side of her face on the other mare's neck. She sighed. "I know. N-Neither can I... I can't believe Spike was... he... and Scootaloo..." she stuttered, finding it challenging to form the right words, "... It just doesn't make any sense."
Cheerilee nodded once in agreement before hanging her head. She pressed her lips firmly together to stop them from shaking, but remained silent.
Across from them on the other bench, Applejack clutched Applebloom close to her side, keeping a firm grip on her. They too had seen the smoke from across town and had come to investigate. She brushed her other hoof through Applebloom's mane.
"It's gonna be alright, Sugarcube." She had repeated this several times since Rainbow Dash had told them the news. "Scoot's gonna be fine, okay?"
Applebloom nodded, wiping her snout. When she and her sister had seen the source of the smoke, she had nearly suffered a panic attack, but she’d since calmed down. Regardless, misery caused the pink bow to sag on her head, drooping like the petals of a rose in the final stages of summer.
"Ah know... B-But she still got hurt..." she said in a near whisper. "An' now her house is gone, and... and Spike's hurt, too, and...and her Pa..."
Applejack silenced her with a kiss to the top of her head. "Shh, Ah know, sweetheart. Ah know... This ain't easy, but... Scootaloo's still gonna turn out okay. Even though... even though this happened, Ah promise. Remember, the Nurse said she ain't in critical condition or nothin' like that. She'll be right as rain soon. Alright?"
Applebloom leaned in closer to Applejack, letting her big sister's strong foreleg wrap all the way around her shoulders. She squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled. "A-Alright..."
Swish!
Everypony in the room jolted in their seats at the sound of the automatic hospital door zipping open. Rainbow Dash glided through the opening, landing daintily on all fours. Once she was on the floor, she walked over to the bench as if she were ascending the gallows, head dipped low and eyelids drooped with misery.
“Are they coming?” Twilight asked. Rainbow nodded.
“Yeah. I told Sweetie’s family what the smoke was, and everything that happened. Rarity and her are gonna come." Her voice was deadpan, devoid of life. "They should be here soon.”
She crawled up onto the bench, her step lacking the springiness that it usually possessed, and plopped her rear down onto the cushion in the far corner furthest away from everyone else. Twilight shot her a questioning stare, but Rainbow Dash turned her head away to face the wall, shutting everything else out.
Sure enough, soon afterward, a white mare came through the door, carrying a small filly with her on her back. Rarity’s observant eyes seemed to take quick stock of the room and everyone in it as she spoke.
"We came as soon as we heard," she said. She reached over her shoulder to run her hoof down Sweetie Belle's head, who was clinging onto her around her neck. Seeing the vulnerability and fear present on Sweetie’s face, she forced herself to forget her own discouragement and gave her student a bright, reassuring smile from across the room. It took some time for her to notice, but when she did, Sweetie returned her greeting with a timid smile of her own.
"Hey, Rarity." Twilight hopped down, momentarily leaving Cheerilee by herself. She gave the unicorn a quick hug before looking over her shoulder at her passenger. "Hello, Sweetie."
Sweetie Belle only glanced up at Twilight. She mumbled a hasty "hello" in reply and shrunk back. The smile she had only moments ago was now gone, and her eyes peered all around the waiting room, looking as though the walls were closing in on her from all sides. Twilight simpered, taking a step closer to the filly and leaning herself forward.
"Hey, don't worry," she cooed. Rarity watched them both from over her shoulder. "Scootaloo's going to recover just fine. You don't have to worry."
Shivering, Sweetie nodded her head in understanding. "Okay. I-I won't... how bad?" she asked meekly. Twilight answered her in a gentle, low voice.
"The nurse said she has a broken front leg," she said carefully, trying her best not to upset the filly any more than she already surely was. Sweetie Belle's pupils dilated to the size of tea plates, but she said nothing. Twilight continued. "But she's going to be okay. Spike got her out in time. Okay?"
This bit of news seemed to have a positive effect on Sweetie Belle. Her shivering lessened considerably, and she dared to look up and gaze right into Twilight's eyes. "Okay..."
"And speaking of Spike," Rarity butted in, "how is he doing? He didn't get hurt too, did he?" Her volume increased with each word. "Rainbow Dash told us he was with Scootaloo here..."
Hearing the question, Cheerilee grimaced. She knew that the news of Spike's involvement in this whole thing was probably more troubling to Twilight than to anypony else. The alicorn closed her eyes.
"Spike... well, he's..."
...
It hurt to breathe.
As he regained consciousness, a ceiling light was the first thing he could see. The sudden brightness elicited a groan, and he went to shield his eyes with his hand. But when he tried to move his aching arm, he found that moving his arm sent pain shooting up his extremities, through his shoulder and into his ribcage, igniting a searing burn which was so intense that he found himself momentarily unable to breathe. Fighting panic, he closed his eyes and tried to gasp for air, but the effort only made the stabbing sensation worse. Jaw clenched, he switched tactics, letting the air in his lungs escape through the holes made by his missing teeth as slowly as he could. His claws dug into a soft surface beneath him to brace himself against the pain.
Then, a voice.
"Relax. Breathe light, that's it."
It clearly belonged to a male. Spike detected it from his right, and he dared to open his eyes and roll his head over to get a look at the speaker. Sure enough, it belonged to a stallion. A stethoscope hung around his neck, and the white collar of his lab coat came up to his chin. He smiled at Spike.
"Don't be afraid. You're in good hooves. Just breathe light and don't move too much for now." He gestured to his own diaphragm, raising and lowering his foreleg over it to mime his own breaths. "We have not done X-rays yet, but I believe you have a fractured rib."
Spike was listening, but it was hard to hear through the haze of pain. He continued the doctor's breathing technique, forcing himself to relax and stay still despite the stabbing in his side. In less than a minute, the pain was back down to tolerable levels. The doctor nodded his head in approval.
"That's it. Nice and light." He got up from the stool, heading toward the door. "I'm going to get Nurse Coldheart to give you a new bag of ice to put on there. This one's melted," he explained, pointing to Spike’s underside. The dragon raised his head to look where he had indicated; sure enough, there was a large plastic bag of slushy ice held in place by medical tape on his fractured rib. "She’ll be here to assist you shortly. Don't mo--"
"Where's... Scoot'loo?" Spike interrupted with a grunt. It took some effort to get the words out. "Is she here?"
The doctor stopped in the doorway. He turned his head, nodding it once. “The girl? Yes, she’s here as well. We’ve got her in another room.”
With as much breath as his battered chest could muster, Spike gave a long exhale of relief. He cleared his throat.
“Is…” He took in another shallow breath. “…she okay?” The question put an odd look on the doctor’s face. He nodded, but appeared hesitant to do so.
“Well, yes… and no. She was still injured rather badly. In addition to a fracture in her left leg, she also experienced heavy bruising and host of other minor injuries. We’re not entirely sure how they were acquired, but…” He cleared his throat, leaving his thought dangling and changing the subject, “…But she’s very much alive, and we’re expecting a full recovery. Thanks to you, that is.”
The last statement took a moment to sink through Spike’s skull. The stallion smiled at Spike’s blank expression.
“That was the quite the thing you did, you know. Running into a burning building to save somepony. Judging from the shape you’re both in, you must’ve gotten her out just in time. You’re quite the hero.”
His face glowed. But in spite of this, Spike’s blank look did not change. Without saying anything more, and with a puzzled cock of his head, the doctor turned back around and exited the room.
“Keep breathing light. Nurse Coldheart will be right with you,” he called from out in the hallway. “Just stay put.”
His hoofsteps clopping on the linoleum tile faded down the hall. Not having much choice but to follow the doctor’s orders, Spike laid stock still in the bed, all alone with his only company being that of his thoughts.
The company was most unwelcome.
Despite his long period of feverish slumber, it had not filtered out the memories. And as his eyes closed, the pictures from hours ago were painted onto the darkness like a canvas.
He squeezed his eyes closed even tighter, but it did no good. There was no way for him to forget; there was no way to ignore what had happened, to ward away the images that came back to him like a mighty flood. What he’d done.
He didn’t cry. It would have hurt too much.
…
“…he’s doing okay. They think he has a broken rib, but they need to do X-rays to make sure,” Twilight revealed. While the news was good, at the mention of Spike’s injury, Rarity’s mouth fell open.
“Oh, poor Spikey…”
“He’s going to be fine.” Twilight reaffirmed snappily. “As far as we know, he saved Scootaloo’s life. I-I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.”
Surprisingly, Twilight’s tone of voice seemed rather unconcerned. In fact, to Cheerilee, it almost sounded like she wasn’t worried at all. But the short stammer in her last sentence was all it took to know that not everything was alright with her. Under her regal exterior, she was hurting, too.
Giving Twilight one more quick hug, Rarity took Sweetie Belle over to the bench on Applejack’s side, and gingerly set her down on one of the cushions before seating herself. She nodded a silent hello to Applejack and her sister, wrapping her foreleg around Sweetie.
“Hey, Rare,” Applejack answered her greeting. She tried to smile warmly, but it only came out as a sad smirk. “Hey Sw—”
“Hey, Sweetie Belle,” Applebloom piped up from Applejack’s other side, beating her to the punch. The two fillies made eye contact, and for the first time since she’d come into the hospital, a ghost of a smile played upon Sweetie’s lips.
“H-Hey, Applebloom.” No sooner had she replied that she looked back away, cowering into the seat.
Without warning, Applejack felt her sister moving out of her grasp, and when she looked down, Applebloom had already slipped her way out from underneath her foreleg and hopped down from the seat, going over to Sweetie Belle without so much as another word. Both Applejack and Rarity watched as Applebloom propped herself up onto the bench with her hind legs and gave Sweetie a warm hug, nuzzling her friend’s neck. Since she was unable to hug her back, Sweetie Belle just accepted the hug until Applebloom at last let go, returning to Applejack’s side.
Every other pony in the room found themselves exchanging looks, first at each other, and then back at the two girls. Then back at the two girls. They all smiled.
All except Rainbow Dash, who kept herself isolated from the rest of the world in the corner of the waiting room, alone with her thoughts and oblivious to everything except the despair which weighed heavy on her heart.
…
Nurse Coldheart had come with the new bag of ice in short order, taking a few minutes at best. Spike vaguely recognized her from the last time her was here, when he’d come with… or, rather tracked down Twilight to the hospital when Sweetie’s leg had been bitten by the rattlesnake. She’d been the same nurse who’d been attending to Sweetie Belle when they’d come to visit her in her room.
She was quick about her business, skillfully removing the medical tape from Spike’s side and setting the old bag, which was mostly water at this point, on a counter beside the bed. She stuck the new bag on, putting on just enough tape to keep it in place on Spike’s round belly.
“That should help numb some of the pain,” she said. “In just a minute, I’m gonna want you to take in as deep of a breath as you can and hold it for three seconds before breathing out. Okay?”
At the request, Spike narrowed his eyes. His scaly brow furrowed downward with a mix of confusion and distrust. Nurse Coldheart chuckled.
“Yes, I know. It sounds a little crazy, but there’s a good reason for it.” She pointed to his belly. “It might hurt a lot, but if you don’t at least do it every so often, you might end up with pneumonia. It is not enjoyable in the slightest, but you have to do it.”
With her explanation, Spike’s expression softened a little. Distrust soon morphed into fear. He gulped.
“It’ll be alright, I promise,” said Nurse Coldheart, smiling again. “I would tell you that you can squeeze my hoof to help with the pain, but I’m not sure about those claws…” She grimaced, pointing to them. “I’m afraid they might, you know… hurt.”
Hurt…
What followed took him completely by surprise. The memories came back to him like a film reel, a vast array of separate image frames flickering brightly in his field of vision. It was as though he were actually living through it all over again; his claws digging in deep to his assailant’s snout, the screams of agony and rage, the swift kick to his…
All of the pain he’d been successful at keeping at bay suddenly flared back up. He gritted his teeth together, incisors bared at the ceiling, and belted out a loud groan. His claws bit into the mattress again, leaving another set of scratches in the fabric. Nurse Coldheart scurried forward, taking a hold of one of Spike’s arms.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she questioned frantically, scanning over his entire body from head to where the sheets covered his legs and tail. “What happened?”
Spike grunted. His claws gradually withdrew themselves from the bed, leaving deep punctures in their place, until at last, he managed to say, “My chest just… started hurting again… gah…”
Nurse Coldheart raised her eyebrows. “And right now? Is it getting worse, or better?”
“B—Better,” he gasped out. “Just one sec…”
He cleared his throat and laid his head back onto the pillow. Nurse Coldheart’s focus drifted downward until she could see the deep gashes left by Spike’s claws in the mattress. She frowned.
“You okay?”
Spike nodded weakly. She sat down on the cold tile floor and scooted closer to the bed.
“Alright. Let’s give it just a couple more minutes. Nice an’ easy, that’s it…”
...
Many minutes later, they tried again. Nurse Coldheart had substituted a thick, wooden dowel wrapped in cloth for her hoof when she'd walked him through the exercise, and judging from the deep gashes made in the cloth and the dents in the wood where his fingers had been, it had not been a bad decision.
Spike took a minute to recover, and when he came to his other senses, his eyes drifted over to the dowel and rag, which were laying on the bed beside him. Once he saw it, he found himself unable to look away until Nurse Coldheart picked it up and set in on the counter at the room's other side.
"I know it hurts, but it will get better as time goes on," she said. "Just remember that you have to do it once per hour. It helps to make a mental schedule so that you can know what to expect and when."
Spike appeared to be only vaguely listening. "Mm hm. I-I'll... do that."
Nurse Coldheart nodded in approval. "Good. Since it seems you are doing well otherwise, I am going to let some of your friends in to see you. If that is alright with you, of course."
The mention of visitors made Spike's eyes, formerly glazed over, snap open. "Wait... visitors? Who else is here?"
Coldheart picked up the wooden dowel and cloth and grimaced at the marks his claws had left. "Many of your friends. I do not know most of their names, but I do know that Princess Twilight is with them. Do you feel well enough to let them in to see you?"
Spike set his hand on top of the icepack sitting on his injured rib. The touch made him wince, but the pain was not nearly as intense as it had been before. He stared up at the ceiling, blinking slowly.
"Y--" He hesitated for a moment, gritting his teeth together and shutting his eyes. He was about to reply in the affirmative when, for reasons nearly inexplicable to even himself, he changed his mind. "…No…"
Nurse Coldheart’s surprise at his answer was apparent. She frowned, standing in the open doorway. “Oh… well, I suppose I will be back later to help you w—”
“Wait!” Spike raised his hand at her, wincing as the movement stretched out his chest and aggravated his broken rib. Nurse Coldheart had been turning away, but his plea made her turn back around. “Wait…”
“Changed your mind?” she asked. Spike nodded, gritting his sharp incisors together.
“Y-Yes, but…” He looked straight at her. A lump traveled down his throat as he swallowed. “…just Twilight. I… I only want to talk to her.”
Nurse Coldheart's slight frown curved upward into a gentle smile. “Okay. I’ll let her know... Just Twilight? There are a lot of other friends that would be happy to see you...”
Spike affirmed. "Yeah... just her. Nopony else. Please..."
And that was that. Wordlessly, Coldheart tipped her hat to him and walked out of the room, leaving the door open. The sounds of her hoofsteps receded down the hall.
The sensation which followed her departure was like someone smearing his scales with cold, wet sand. A chill settling over his body, rooting his battered frame to the spot. Dread, fear, and shame. Guilt.
And soon, he'd have to tell his closest friend in the whole world why.
…
Gradually, Applebloom had drifted back over to Applejack's side, welcoming her big sister's comforting hoof around her. Still, not once did Sweetie Belle look up or around the room, seemingly mesmerized by the seat cushion. Sensing something was amiss, Rarity placed a foreleg around her withers.
“Are you alright, Sweetie Belle?” she whispered. Many moments passed without an answer, but at last, Sweetie shook her head.
“No… I hate this place,” she spat from under her breath. Rarity could see a shimmering in her sister’s eye before Sweetie turned her head away.
It had not been long ago since the two of them had last been here. Only last time, Sweetie hadn’t been in the waiting room, but in a bed. And from the looks of it, her remembrance wasn’t about to fade any time soon. Rarity pursed her lips.
“I know. I… I don’t like it either,” she agreed. Almost as a reflex, her gaze wandered over Sweetie’s shoulder to the spot where her leg had been. Eyeing the stub, she shuddered. “Not one bit.”
Sweetie’s lip quivered. Rarity noticed right away, and rubbed the spot between her little sister’s shoulder blades in a comforting gesture.
“Oh, darling… it’s alright, Sweetie. It is not like the last time… we do not have to worry about Scootaloo. She’s going to be just fine…”
A hot tear streaked down Sweetie’s cheek and plopped onto the cushion. She sniffled, wiping her eyes and snout.
“I know. I just… It’s just that… I don’t want her to be like me. I-I don’t…” She trailed off with a sniffle. More tears began streaming out of her tightly close eyes. “I don’t want her to feel bad…”
In a strange sensation she couldn’t quite explain, Rarity felt like someone had struck her in the gut with a lead pipe. Concerned, she wrinkled her brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Sweetie Belle wiped her eyes and snout, but they only continued to run. She bit her bottom lip and took a shuddering breath.
“I mean… I mean that I-I don’t…” she stammered, making a visible effort to pull herself together. At last, she was able to speak once more. “…I don’t want her to have to go through the same stuff as me.”
In a manner akin to slurping air through a straw, she inhaled and exhaled like she was out of breath. She continued while Rarity listened quietly, intently.
“… I want to go to school, but I can’t. I wanna see everypony again, b-but Applebloom and her are the only ones that come and visit… I wanna play outside, but I can’t walk right.” She started out with a whisper, but slowly and surely, the volume of her voice was beginning to escalate. “It’s… I feel really alone sometimes, a-and sometimes I just feel really tired ‘cause there’s nothing to do. And now…”
Rarity’s hoof tightened its grip around her sister’s heaving shoulders. She used her other hoof to grasp Sweetie around the front and pulled her close. “…Now Scoots leg’s broke, and her house is all gone, and her daddy isn't...he isn't here..." Runoff from Sweetie’s nose dripped onto her fur. "...a-and now she won’t be able to go to school, or play outside or go Crusading, and… I-I don’t want that to happen to her. I don’t want her to feel like she's alone. I... don't want her to feel sad.”
With this said, Sweetie fell quiet. Tears and runoff from her nose left wet marks on her sister’s chest.
For quite some time, Rarity found herself at a loss for words. Her hoof continued its gentle massage of her sister’s back, tracing an oval pattern over her soft fur as she thought to herself, reflecting. It was enough to force tears of her own from the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back.
“I’m sorry, Sweetie,” she said. Sweetie remained still in her firm grip. “I know what you’re saying, sweetheart. I-I understand. And you’re right. But…” She paused, searching her brain for the right words to say. “Scootaloo’s leg is going to heal. She’s… we're gonna make sure she has a place to live, a-and... somepony to live with. It's not always going to be this way. Not for her, and…” She had to take a deep breath here. “…And not for you, either. I promise, Sweetie.”
She kissed the top of Sweetie’s head. The filly turned her head up to look at Rarity, watery eyes seeming to implore her. Rarity wiped her wet cheek. “I promise.”
Nothing else was said between them. Sweetie dipped her head down and kept quiet while Rarity held her close. Nopony had overheard them talk.
Nopony except Rainbow Dash. She looked out the sliding glass door, pretending to be oblivious to her surroundings. But if anypony had been watching her, they would have noticed her ears angled towards Rarity and Sweetie Belle. She heard everything, only missing the occasional fragments of the conversation. Regardless, she pretended that she hadn't, remaining in her corner and mulling over the words in her mind...
Then, like a pair of satellites, Rainbow's ears swiveled toward the hall. Her head did likewise. A chill settled in the air as the innocent clip-clop of hooves on hard tile menaced from down the narrow hall, getting steadily louder until Nurse Coldheart stepped into the room.
Her unexpected entry turned everyone's heads, and when they saw her, their conversations fell silent. It was as though her mere presence carried with it the essence of life and death, of good tidings or of tragedy. Only Twilight, after a few second's pause, dared to speak.
"How are they doing?" Her hooves kneaded the cushion underneath her like raw dough. "They're both still alright, aren't they?"
Everypony's eyes focused in on Coldheart, awaiting her verdict. She cleared her throat, eyes shifting from right to left uneasily at the feeling of so many ponies staring at her. She nodded.
"Yes."
This single word elicited a collective sigh of relief from everyone in the room. Coldheart smiled faintly.
"Yes, both are doing fine... Doctor Scopes tells me Scootaloo is responding well to the pain medication we have been giving her, and that X-ray results only show a closed fracture to her left foreleg. She did sustain... other injuries..." The skin on her neck wrinkled in a pained grimace. "... but they were not as severe. Being young as she is, we are expecting a swift physical recovery. As for Spike..." She smirked. "...He is doing fine."
She went into no further details, concluding her report right there. Despite already knowing the news, hearing it once more from Nurse Coldheart's own mouth lifted an immense burden from all of their shoulders. Twilight bowed her head graciously.
"Oh, thank you, Nurse. Is he... I mean, is Spike--"
"I actually came here for another reason," Coldheart interrupted. "to give you another bit of news. And I mean for you in particular, Princess... It is about Spike."
Twilight raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"
Coldheart nodded. "Indeed... when I asked if he felt well enough to have visitors, he requested that he talk to you. Just you."
As soon as she'd made Spike's request known to her, Twilight could feel a sense of unease churning in her gut. There were not many times she could remember where her number one assistant had specifically wanted to talk to her, and her alone. Even so, she kept her feelings to herself, hiding them underneath a practiced regal exterior.
"Oh. Well, alright..."
Nurse Coldheart stepped to the side, tilting her head down the hallway. "Follow me. His room is a little ways away, Prin--"
"Twilight. Just Twilight," she interrupted. Nurse Coldheart cringed slightly, but a faint smile played on her lips.
"If you insist," she replied. With herself at the lead, they disappeared down the hall, but not before Twilight looked back over her shoulder. Everyone else's eyes met hers. Her face said it all; something was up.
And they all knew it.
...
3951369
Now.
Well, this had some amazing drama and tension, especially with Sweetie Belle.
Soon Spike will have to tell Twilight what happened. Now if Twilight is written in character and the author does not make the plot be contrived, then Spike should be able to explain to her how he breathed fire to save Scootaloo from her evil father, and started the fire by accident. If the story is written correctly, Twilight will understand and she can use her Princess title to get out a warrant for Scootaloo's father's arrest.
Although he's so badly burned a wanted poster won't do any good! Ha-ha!
3910958
She lost her entire leg, that's not gonna heal.
3954084
Her father is... not alive, so...
Just saying.
Honestly I'm just amused by how much you're beating yourself up over a month and a half. One of the stories in my favourites went on hiatus for around a year, just out of nowhere. A month is actually a pretty normal wait for most of the stories I'm watching to update, in fact. This isn't your job and we aren't paying you, after all. You're entertaining us for free, as I see it.
That said I do appreciate the concern for the readers. I still like it when things update quickly, I just don't feel I have any right to complain if they don't.
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Also that got a good laugh out of me, thanks for that.
Hey keep up the great work and dont stress no ones going to downvote you
You don't have to apolgize! You have a right struggle and live life, bro. I thought this chapter was great anyway. Take as long as you have to for the next one.
needs beginning " marks.
_______________________________
This was a good chapter. I can't wait to see what happens when Spike tells Twi about Scootaloo being beaten like a Pinata by her father. Getting severly beaten himself from Scoots dad for protecting her (sustaining his injury), then accidentally being the one responsible for killing Scoots' dad. Although the death was in self-defense thus justifiable.
Woo!
Update again soon.
...So much yay! I mean-I love this story so much. It came back. It feels sort of awesome to realize that.
Real life happens. This isn't real life. As others have said, we aren't paying you to do this. We're not going to put you in front of a firing squad if you don't get us a new chapter out right now. I've been on hiatus from everything for months myself.
Don't worry about it. We'll still be here when you get back.
Makes me wonder what Spike has to talk to Twilight about. Also, I agree from Cheerilee's pov and I felt that Twilight was very concerned about Spike.
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Well you're guilty of bad writing, because we never had a scene where he dies.
He just flies away screaming with his wings on fire. We don't know what happens to him, although we can assume he flew away somewhere to put out his wings, presumably the Everfree Forest, and is probably suffering sever burns like Two Face from the Batman franchise and, in his pain induced insanity, planning his revenge on the purple dragon as he hides in a cave somewhere while occasionally bursting out into maniacal laughter.
Uh, in other words, there was no point in the story where Scootaloo's father actually died. If we're supposed to figure it out ourselves or presume it, don't tell us. And if you have to tell us straight up, then that's bad writing.
Everyone is saying that Scootaloo's father died, but where does that happen! Where in the story are we given proof that Scootaloo's father is dead? The never find the body, and in the fight scene the last we see of him is him just flying away screaming. Sure, his wings are probably burned off, but that doesn't mean he's dead. He should be plotting his revenge somewhere, and that would be much more interesting. Please, someone, show me in the story how we know for sure that he's dead!
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Chapter: Smoke
You usually use a body bag or a sheet to cover up a dead corpse to conceal it from the public. Perhaps I did not write that clearly enough, but everyone else that I could see didn't have a problem with it.
Then again, it has been over a month since the last update, so I can understand if your memory was a little hazy or if you don't recall reading that part.
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Okay then. Thank you. I guess I just glanced over it because I was anxious to see how Spike and Scootaloo were getting along. And Scootaloo's father is never really mentioned again, so I thought that no one knew where he was or something. I was really stupid in missing that part, and I'm sorry for complaining over nothing. I'm just in a stormy critical mood lately due to having to review Sherclop Pones' "Friendship is Witchcraft". That'll put anyone in a bad mood.
Anyway, about the story, ALRIGHT! GO SPIKE! You took that sucker down! You burnt that freak! GO SPIKE!
Oh, wait, you're just a little kid and you have to deal with the feeling of taking a life. . .oh wow. . .this got really serious and heavy in an instant. Spike had a lot to deal with. He's just killed someone. His confession scene with Twilight is going to be really tense and dramatic. Oh my gosh, have you got a challenge! You're going to have to write this scene as realistically and emotionally as possible. This is gonna be hard, and it'll probably take weeks for you to finish. Take your time, because you're gonna need it. Oh man.
YOU'RE ONE OF MY FAVORITE WRITERS!
I can tell that Dashie feels solely responsible for what happened to Scoot. It doesn't come as a complete surprise: she did push Fluttershy off a cloud by accident at flying camp, after all. No wonder she doesn't interact much in this chapter...
Why should Spike feel bad? I mean, Scoot's dad was a monster and deserved to die. I think what Spike should be saying right now is "good riddance." But then, if Scoot finds out that Spike killed her father, would she ever forgive him?
Poor Sweetie Belle. I don't think she likes reliving what happened to her here in this hospital. And the same thing happening to Scoot is too much for her to bear. The poor little puppy...
Here it comes. The torturous confession of guilt...
If the Joker were hear right now, this is how he would react:
I gotta say your professionalism and dedication to your stories are wonderful. You just don't see this sorta thing that often these days.
So far a great story, wondering how the Mane 6 and the CMC will take hearing Spike killed...
Poor guy is gonna need everyone, I can see this extending into another story.
I feel your pain. Writers block is a bitch.
Especially if you've had it for almost a year
Chapter was pretty good. Don't beat yourself up too much about the long release dates. Life happens. A LOT of writers have the problem you mention, about having more going on in their lives than just fimfiction, and having their fimfiction release schedules take a hit because of it. Most serious fimfic readers are used to it, so it's not a big deal. Hell, this chapter has been in my 'to read' list for a while now, and I'm just now getting around to reading it, because my life (programming and stuff) has kept me from it. It's really no big deal.
As for your problems with MS Word.... I've got three suggestions. 1) Libre Office. 2) Whenever creating a new document, before you even type a single word, always come up with a title for the document, and then "save as" and save it to the disk with the title you came up with for it. 3) When writing, make sure to hit "ctrl + s" every 10 minutes or so, or like whenever there's a break in your typing. (like at the end of each paragraph) Never wait for the last moment to save. You never know when something might happen to cause you to lose work. I've had that problem too many times in my life, to the point that now I'm probably almost obsessive when it comes to save my work. I always create the file immediately, even when it's a blank document (versus working on the "virtual buffer" that is an unsaved document), and I save like every 10 minutes.
I want to echo the people telling you not to beat yourself up over long release dates. One: As Neil Gaman famously said about about George R.R Marting "He is not your bitch". You don't work for us, we like your story, its very well written. You don't owe us anything. If you decided that you didn't want to write it anymore that's your call. Secondly yes life does happen and if you ever put ff above your real life then I would argue to check your priorities but it seems like you have them sorted out so don't change that. I eagerly await the next chapter but that is no pressure on you to get it done.
Well it's like i say, you can't rush good writing! this story actually convinced me to create an account just to review this story (and now others too)
so far i gotta say i'm really enjoying this story! the first part i really noticed was that you're taking your time to let the story sink into our heads as well as using very good descriptions that paint a picture in the readers heads. These two things alone, are usually my pet peeves, when someone rushes through a story just to bust it out. Also, in a show like MLP with it's younger target demographic, it's hard to really know how the characters would react and whether it's OOC or not since we don't really get to see them in these situations. But judging with what we know so far about them, it's very believable that they would act this way given the situation. BTW this review is probably gonna end up being long so this one is for the whole story up to this point, not just this chapter. Also, i stepped away for a bit while i waited for this chapter to come up, so i either missed, or forgot about sweetie belle losing her leg. (what chpt was that on so i can reread it.) The story also helps the reader develop empathy in regards to the others. You feel like you're in the waiting room with them listening in. Well, that's enough review for right now, i have tons i could say, but you get the gist for now. Overall, great storyline, consistency, character development, and descriptions. So far i honestly can't find anything that shot out at me that i didn't like. i'll keep checking up on this one, until then great job so far! Keep up the good work!
4177026 She lost her leg in 'Like Shattered Glass'.
ah ok i'll have to go read that one, thanks!
3955576 Aww... such a bad place to have the ending... It was getting really good... Unless you're planning on continuing it? Or it leads up to something in a sequel perhaps?? Hmm strange... I don't remember commenting this. Sorry about it. I'll check with my siblings. They might've done it. Great story though! I'm just gonna edit this comment instead of making an entire new thing. Sorry yet again.
I lost track of this when I switched to fimfiction, I'm glad I found it again.
Wow. Out of my 2 years on this site this and "Like Shattered Glass" are among my top 5 stories. The way it's written is just... So good. It really captures the moment and it's the only stories where I might actually shed a tear.
Wait.
Admittedly, I was kind of expecting the adults in the waiting room to acknowledge early on, even if silently, that Scootaloo's situation made the current situation two out of three Crusaders seriously injured, and that Apple Bloom might need additional comforting. Not to mention that Scoots' major injury was her leg, meaning Sweetie's likely to be additionally emotionally affected.
Nice to see Rarity stepping up and stating Scootaloo isn't going to be left out in the cold.
Shut the buck up talking down about yourself you are a great writer so no more bullshit about how you could do better Couse you probably could but for this what you write is perfect
th06.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/i/2012/183/2/3/spike_oops_by_sulyo-d55lsd0.png
Remember every time you humbly disclaim yourself as a bad writer, you are viciously insulting every other writer who isn't as good as you.
Applebloom >> Apple Bloom
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How nice of them to treat Spike in the Hospital this time, instead of the Veterinarian. I guess they somehow became experts on dragons since then.
Hey man don't apologise so much, you've written an amazing story for people with no expectation of anything in return.