Falling Hard
She could hear a voice calling out to her from the darkness, like an echo from the depths of a cave. Again and again it called, and though each sounding was louder than the last, faded echoes that sank away into ghostly sounds weighed them down. It took some time for the words behind the noise to become noticeable.
“Miss? Miss, can you hear me?”
The mare let out a soft groan, her voice hoarse and her throat parched. Every muscle in her body ached; she gave a set of weak coughs and grimaced. Light slowly encroached on the darkness that encompassed her world, even the smallest bit seemed blinding to her. She tried lifting a foreleg to cover her eyes, but found her hoof wouldn’t lift more than a few inches before something stopped her.
“Can you hear me, Miss?” the voice asked again, “what is your name?”
“Fuh...,” she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper, “Fleet... foot....”
“All right, Fleetfoot, I’m Nurse Joy. How are you feeling?” the voice asked, a motherly tone full of warmth and kindness.
“Wh...where...” Fleetfoot swallowed, the simple act made tortuous from the seemingly thousands of tiny razors lining her throat.
“Need some water, hon?” nurse Joy asked.
Fleetfoot managed the smallest of nods.
“Anything else?”
“Lights,” Fleetfoot rasped.
“Too bright?”
Fleetfoot nodded again.
“I’ll turn them down, honey; hold tight for me,” Joy said.
Fleetfoot could hear the clip-clop sound of hoofbeats retreating from her, though it seemed muted by the ache in her ears. The lights dimmed to the point where Fleetfoot could open her eyes. She whimpered; even the dim light made her ache. She couldn’t tell where she was, the world was just blurred out shapes and faded colors.
For a second time, Fleetfoot attempted to lift her hooves from the mattress, and again they stopped only inches from the sheets. This time, however, Fleetfoot could make out the distinct feeling of soft cuffs around her fetlocks; her heart skipped a beat.
The world vanished into a flash of blinding white light, a thunderous explosion overwhelmed her hearing, and her muscles seized up. She fell, her stomach doing flips with her equilibrium shattered. Years of training and primal instinct took control of her wings in an attempt to stall her momentum.
The hoofsteps returned and Fleetfoot felt a strong foreleg slide behind her head. The limb lifted her to an almost-sitting position before she felt a straw touch her mouth. She wrapped the straw between her lips, greedily sucking the cold water from the cup and down her throat. The process felt like torture. Fleetfoot’s throat burned enough to bring tears to her eyes. The more she drank, the less it hurt. Finally, after she had taken her fill of water, she released the straw and gasped for breath.
“Easy now, you’ve got some cracked ribs and more than a few bruises,” Joy said.
“W-where am I?” Fleetfoot asked again, her voice stronger than before.
“You’re in Manehattan General Hospital,” Joy answered.
“Why are my hooves tied down?”
“I’m very sorry about that honey, but you were having seizures when they brought you in; we had to restrain your hooves so you didn’t hurt yourself by accident.” Joy answered
She couldn’t tell how long she laid there gasping for breath as her vision slowly returned. She had no idea what had hit her, or how she had ended up on the ground. All she knew, was that her body ached, a constant ring filled her ears, and she couldn’t stop shaking.
“What happened?” Fleetfoot asked, wincing from the disjointed memory.
“We were hoping you could tell us,” Joy said, gently lowering Fleetfoot back down. “You were found unconscious in the street three days ago; some good samaritans brought you in. Is there anything you can remember? Anything at all?”
Her body ached, her wings hung limp from her sides, and her ears rang. Nearby she could see another mare, her sky-blue coat and rainbow mane dirty and charred. The mare was deathly still, and Fleetfoot felt a cold pit of horror fester in her gut.
“I... I need...” Fleetfoot’s words hitched for a moment, tears welling up in her eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a trembling breath into her lungs. “I need to talk to security.”
“Why’s that, dear?” Joy asked, a kind hoof resting on Fleetfoot’s shoulder.
Fleetfoot’s face contorted in anguish, the tears staining her cheeks. “Because I think I killed somepony.”
From the large observation windows of the upper floors of Manehattan General Hospital, Arcus had a decent view of the city skyline. It wasn’t as good as a cloud level view, but some altitude was better than none in his opinion. He glanced down to the report in his hooves, his eyes rereading the content over and over again. Reaching up with a wing, he removed the pince-nez glasses from his snout and gently set them on the windowsill.
His ears twitched as he heard the door open, though he didn’t turn to see who was coming in; there was no need. He heard the tentative hoofsteps on the cold tile floor advance towards him; he kept his eyes forward. Arcus waited until the other pony’s steps came to a halt before he slowly turned around.
“Are you supposed to be up and about already?” he asked, his eyes taking in the mare before him. “You didn’t need to wear your dress blues.”
“I’m supposed to walk around as much as I can; they don’t want me to get a clot. As to the jacket, I had Rapid get it from my hotel, sir,” Spitfire replied.
Spitfire stood as straight as she could, the blue jacket of her dress uniform hanging loosely over her back. She extended her good wing, a plain white envelope held in her feathers. Arcus regarded the note with seeming indifference, making no move to take it.
“I’m guessing that’s—”
“My resignation, yes Sir,” Spitfire said, her voice bare of the authority and confidence Arcus was used to hearing her speak with.
“Enough with the ’Sir’, Spitfire. This conversation isn’t on the record,” Arcus held up his hoof and ignored the note, at least temporarily. “How are you feeling?”
“...I’ve been better,” she answered, careful to keep her tone neutral.
Arcus gave her a single nod, his own wing extending to take the note from her feathers.
“Please,” he motioned to one of the plush leather couches that lined the walls of the room. “Sit down.”
“I’d rather stand,” Spitfire insisted.
“You had major surgery three days ago and you’ve got a capped IV line in your foreleg, sit down before you aggravate your injuries any further,” Arcus said with the casual tone of a pony discussing gardening techniques.
Spitfire gritted her teeth, though did as she was asked. She didn’t want to admit it, but her wing ached terribly regardless she was standing, sitting, or laying. Even the hefty doses of painkillers they were feeding her every six hours did little to compensate. Arcus retrieved his glasses from the windowsill and placed them back on his snout. He paused for a breath and waited a moment longer before he sat beside her and opened the letter.
For several minutes the only sounds in the room were their breaths and the ticking of the wall clock. Spitfire forced herself to remain still and to keep her eyes on Arcus. She focused on his face, the carefully maintained mask of neutrality making it difficult to tell what he was thinking.
Her resignation read more like a personal confession since Spitfire had spared few details from Arcus. She told him that she had continued her relationship with Rainbow, that they had developed feelings for one another, and that she would not break it off until Rainbow wanted her too. She also confessed about her encounter with Fleetfoot, including the two unfettered punches that she had thrown in anger.
Finally he folded the letter back up and set it between them, his chin resting on his hooves.
“Is there anything else?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“No,” she answered, her ears folding back.
Arcus sighed, a hoof rubbing at the back of his head. “Did Triage speak to you about your wing?”
“Huh?” the question surprised Spitfire and all too soon a melancholic cloud formed over the recovering mare. “Yeah... yeah he did. He said he gave you the full report as well.”
“He did,” Arcus confirmed with a nod. “How are you coping?”
“The morphine helps,” she answered with a bitter scoff.
Arcus nodded slowly. “I can’t imagine—”
“Please,” Spitfire interrupted, it was all she could do to restrain the sorrow in her voice. “Please, don’t do that. I don’t want sympathy.”
“I understand,” Arcus replied in a quiet tone.
Silence filled the room, broken only by the ticking of the clock.
Spitfire rubbed her face, her hoof covering her mouth for a moment. The gravity of her situation hitting her for the first time. She smiled sadly and took a deep breath.
“I’m gonna miss this,” she said with a tired laugh, pools of tears swelling in her golden eyes.
Arcus loosed a weary sigh. “This is where we have a slight problem, Spitfire.”
“What?” she asked, looking to Arcus in bewilderment.
Reaching out with his left wing, Arcus dipped his dexterous feathers into his plain black saddlebag. After a moment he retrieved a plain manilla folder stuffed with a small stack of newspaper clippings.
“When something this... big happens, there’s no stopping the media from getting their hooves on it. And when somepony with national importance is involved, such as an Element of Harmony, then things get... complicated.” Arcus paused for a moment, taking several clippings in his primaries. “Your actions, however, have gotten noticed.”
Spitfire couldn’t stop her eyebrows from arching up in surprise at the paper Arcus was showing her. Every clipping was about her quick ‘rescue’ of Rainbow Dash, as well as Soarin’, Rapid, and Misty’s efforts in assisting the shattered weather team. Misty and Soarin’ had achieved a hefty dose of praise as well for their efforts in providing first aid and leadership when they arrived.
“Believe it or not, but Red Top is leading the charge for you in the press,” Arcus continued, pulling a clipping from the Enquirer from his stack. “Seems that even bottom feeders like him have a bit of conscience from time to time. You should read the article, it’s a rather flattering puff piece for you saving Rainbow’s life.” Arcus couldn’t resist a smirk. “Careful Spitfire, he might have a thing for you.”
Spitfire’s face turned red in a mixture of embarrassment and rage. Arcus chuckled quietly, earning a halfhearted punch on the shoulder from Spitfire. Arcus only laughed harder, earning another punch from Spitfire.
“Not. Funny.” Spitfire huffed, folding her forelegs across her chest.
“I beg to differ,” Arcus countered.
Spitfire groaned, rubbing her face with a hoof.
“So, Spitfire, here’s the plan,” Acrus began, tearing her resignation in half.
Spitfire’s jaw dropped and her eyes went wide. “What are you—”
“You can’t resign,” Arcus said, tearing the letter again, “nor can I fire you without triggering a media circus that nopony wants. That said, you can’t reclaim your position as team captain due to your injury and the situation between you and Fleetfoot. So what we’re going to do is have a big public ceremony where we will praise your heroics, pin a medal to your chest, and give you a promotion.”
“A what?!” Spitfire balked.
“You will be promoted to the supervisor of The Wonderbolts Academy, and after a year or two you can quietly retire your commision to pursue ‘other interests’.” Arcus explained making air quotes with his front hooves.
“There is no supervisor for the Academy!” Spitfire argued, “the whole thing is just a PR stunt!”
“Well then, congratulations on being the first.”
“I’d rather you just fired me,” Spitfire moaned, her hoof pressing against her forehead as she fought off a bout of nausea. “It’d be less degrading than signing posters and dealing with a bunch of arrogant greenwings."
“I recall you being a pretty arrogant greenwing once upon a time,” Arcus said, closing his folder and slipping it back into his saddlebag. “This is the best solution we have right now.”
Spitfire sighed, slowly shaking her head side to side. “Have we found Fleetfoot yet?”
“No,” Arcus answered. “When’s the last time anypony saw her?”
“Four days ago for me,” Spitfire answered, “I’m worried about her.”
“That makes two of us,” Arcus said, “I’ll put out a missing pony report this afternoon if we don’t hear anything.”
Spitfire nodded slowly. “Have, um... have you heard anything about Rainbow? They wouldn’t tell me anything.”
Arcus sighed. “I know she’s alive, but that’s about it.”
Spitfire rubbed her hooves together, her heart fluttering in her chest. “I... I don’t suppose I could see her?”
“You can ask her father,” Arcus said, putting his glasses and his papers in his saddlebag. Slipping off the couch, he unfolded his wings and shook a few loose feathers out before getting his saddlebags on. “They’re in room four-twelve. Though he didn’t seem too keen on visitors yesterday.”
A thousand questions ran through Spitfire’s mind. How serious were Rainbow’s injuries? What had happened to her? Would she be okay?
“Spitfire,” Arcus said, his tone catching snapping her free of her concerns.
“Hm?”
“You might have ignored me when I told you to end the relationship, but if he tells you to leave her alone, then you damned well better listen.”
Spitfire nodded slowly, biting her tongue and avoid Arcus’ gaze.
“I’ll check on you later tonight; I have a press conference to prepare for. Anything you need?” he asked.
Spitfire slid off the couch, wincing from a stab of pain in her wing. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”
Arcus nodded once before trotting out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. Spitfire took a deep breath and rubbed her chest with her hoof. She took a moment to compose herself before leaving the room as well.
Stepping into the sparse hallway, she took a few moments to orient herself. The lounge Arcus had picked was on the hospital’s top floor. He had picked it as a courtesy, her own room was on the same floor, though the opposite side. Rainbow had been placed four flights down, though Spitfire could only guess why. Without a second thought she made for the stairwell.
No matter how slow she moved or how careful she was, each step was a small jolt to her wing, and each jolt was a small torture session. By the time she had made it down one flight of stairs she had to stop and lean against the wall to catch her breath. Her wing, bound in a heavy plaster cast that was secured to her body with thick gauze wrapping felt as though it was on fire.
“Come on,” she hissed through gritted teeth, “come on. You can do this.”
Fifteen minutes later, Spitfire found herself on the fourth floor. She was tired, out of breath, and her wing ached terribly, but she had made it. She also resolved to take the elevator back to her room rather than attempt the walk up.
After catching her breath, she took a moment to orient herself on the new floor; it was laid out in a very open style with the nurses station and several small sitting areas occupying the center of the space. Patient rooms formed the outer ring of the floor, each with a clearly marked nametag and number posted for nurses and visitors to see.
Spitfire spotted a pair of security ponies wandering around as well. She wondered if the security was for Rainbow, or if the hospital kept them on staff for a different reason. Pushing those questions from her mind, Spitfire walked forward anxious to find room four-twelve.
Fortunately for her, the stairwell had exited right beside room four hundred. And, without too much effort, she soon found herself standing in front of the closed door marked four-twelve. The placard stuck next to the door held a simple slip of white paper with the name R. Dash written in black marker.
Spitfire lifted a hoof to knock, but stopped when she heard a stallion’s voice singing through the door.
“Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows,
fair is the lily of the valley
clear is the water that flows through the boyne
but my love is fairer than any.”
Biting her lip anxiously, Spitfire knocked on the door. The gentle tap of her hoof didn’t seem to catch the singer’s attention as he began the next verse.
“T’is not for the parting with my sister Kate
Tis not for the grief of my mother
Tis all for the loss of my bonnie Mareish lass
that my heart is breaking forever
Spitfire took a breath and knocked again. When the stallion didn’t reply, she pushed the door open just enough to poke her head in.
A stab of pain went through her heart as her eyes fell upon Rainbow. Most of her body was hidden by the clean white sheets covering her up to the neck. A clear plastic mask sat over Rainbow’s mouth and nose feeding her oxygen. Beside the bed, seated in a plush blue recliner was the singer. His hoof gently stroked Rainbow’s mane .
“Um, excuse me?” Spitfire said in a gentle tone.
The stallion jumped in surprise, his eyes quickly settling on Spitfire and his hoof moving from Rainbow’s mane to his chest. “Celestia’s sacred snatch, you startled me!”
Spitfire blushed from the stallions... creative language. “I, uh, sorry about that. I’m—”
“Spitfire, yeah, I know who you are,” he said, standing to greet her. “Please, come in. I wanted to thank you for what you did.”
Spitfire’s blush only deepened as she pushed into the room, closing the door behind her. “It was nothing, really.”
“You saved my daughter’s life,” he said, moving around the bed until he was standing in front of Spitfire. She could see the bags under his eyes as well as the faded tear stains. “To me, that’s everything.”
“Really, I—” Spitfire gasped in surprise when Rainbow’s father pulled her into a tight hug.
“Thank you,” he whispered, “thank you so much.”
“Y-you’re welcome, um, mister?”
“Bifrost,” he introduced himself, releasing Spitfire from his grip.
“Bifrost, right,” Spitfire couldn’t help a nervous laugh, “I, uh, this isn’t how I hoped to meet you.”
“Can’t imagine why a Wonderbolt would want to meet an old fart like me,” he commented.
Spitfire suddenly hoped her father never met Bifrost. The world couldn’t possibly handle those two stallions in the same room. “I... well, I don’t really know how to put this, so I’ll just say it. Rainbow and I have been dating about since she got to Manehattan.”
The information seemed to momentarily stun Bifrost. After the initial surprise wore off, his friendly smile vanished behind a cautious expression. “Is this a serious relationship?”
Spitfire looked past Bifrost to Rainbow, her expression shifting to a sad smile. “Yes.”
Bifrost watched her closely for a long moment before he began to chuckle lightly. Noticing Spitfire’s confused look he held up a hoof. “Sorry, it’s just that last week I got a letter from Rainbow telling me how her trip here was going so far. It was mostly about the weather team and the storm schedule, but at the end of the letter, at the end she mentioned that she was finally seeing somepony. She seemed, well, happy.”
Spitfire blushed, though the comment made her heart flutter and her smile blossom.
“Have a seat, stay a while,” Bifrost said, motioning to his abandoned chair with a hoof.
“I-I don’t want to intrude, I just needed to see if she was okay,” Spitfire said, her eyes following Bifrost as he returned to the side of the bed.
“The lightning caused some significant burns and probably some nerve damage; we’ll have to see when she wakes up, and she will wake up,” Bifrost insisted, his hoof gently brushing a stray tuft of mane from Rainbow’s face. “Rainbow’s got a good resistance to lightning, so the real damage was from the fall. I’m sure you know plenty about fall injuries, though.”
“I’ve seen my share, and had a few of my own,” Spitfire answered, her mouth feeling dry.
“Rainbow’s got some broken ribs, a broken wing, collapsed lung, and the impact caused a lot of internal bleeding. The doctor told me they spent eight hours in surgery repairing liver and kidney damage.” He paused to take a shaky breath, his right hoof nervously rubbing his face. “But my girl is tough, and she’ll pull through this. She’ll pull through.”
“Has she said what happened yet?” Spitfire asked.
“She hasn’t woken up yet,” Bifrost answered, his heart aching at the sight of his daughter. “They had her on a ventilator when I got here. Pulled the tube a couple hours ago. So far she’s been breathing okay on her own.”
Spitfire could only nod, and after a few moments, she silently accepted Bifrost’s offer to stay. Trotting slowly around the bed, she climbed into the chair, biting back a particularly sharp stab of pain from her efforts.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine, thanks,” she answered, forcing a smile. “That was a beautiful song you were singing when I came in.”
“It was her mother’s favorite song, after she passed.” He paused to take a breath, the old wound still raw enough to hurt. “I, uh... I took to singing it to Rainbow every night as a lullaby.”
“Rainbow mentioned she never really knew her mother,” Spitfire said.
“No, no she didn’t,” he answered simply, his tone making it clear he wanted to avoid the topic for as long as possible. Spitfire couldn’t really blame him for that.
“How did you two meet?” he asked.
“I ran into her at a cafe and we started hanging out. Then, you know, one thing led to another and we just got, well... close.”
Bifrost chuckled. “You know, when she was really little, I used to have this little fantasy where her first coltfriend would come over to pick her up, and while Rainbow would be in the bathroom getting ready I could sit him down in the kitchen and sharpen the biggest knife I could find while asking ‘what are your intentions with my daughter?’.”
Spitfire smiled. “My dad used to say the same thing.”
“It’s a father thing,” Bifrost said with a shrug.
After a few minutes of silence between the two, Bifrost rubbed his eyes against his left fetlock while doing his best to stave off an exhausted yawn. The action didn’t go unnoticed by Spitfire who levelled a concerned frown to the older stallion. As his hoof lowered back to the bed she could see the bags under his eyes and she wondered how long it had been since he had slept.
“If you want to get some coffee I could stay here and keep an eye on things,” she offered, a small, hopeful smile on her lips.
The stallion considered the offer for a moment; his eyes shifting from Spitfire, to Rainbow, and back agains. Finally, with a simple nod, he turned towards the door.
“You want some?” he asked.
“No, thats alright. I don’t have any money on me right now anyway.”
“You saved my baby’s life, and you’re her marefriend,” Bifrost observed, a kind smile on his lips. “I think I can buy you a coffee for that.”
“T-thank you.”
Bifrost nodded once before he slipped out of the room, leaving Spitfire alone with Rainbow. Spitfire lifted her right hoof from the floor and reached toward Rainbow. She hesitated for a moment before bringing her hoof to rest on Rainbow’s forehead as gently as she could. Spitfire couldn’t recall ever feeling so relieved to feel the heat of fever on another pony; it meant that Rainbow was still alive, and her body was fighting hard to stay that way.
“Crazy week, Dash,” Spitfire said, a sad smile on her lips. “Really crazy week.”
“I’m, um... I’m not a Wonderbolt anymore, well, not really. They’re gonna promote me to a desk job for a while, then quietly let me go once this whole fiasco is forgotten about. Probably for the best though.” She paused for a moment, her eyes clouding with tears. “The team is in good hooves; Soarin’ knows what he’s doing, and Rapid will grow into the job eventually. And on the plus side I’ll get to spend more time with you.
“I might never fly again, Dash... I’ll certainly never be able to fly like I used to. But... but it was worth it, for you.”
Spitfire leaned down, her lips gently kissing Rainbow’s forehead, even after the kiss ended, she didn’t pull away. Her tears dripped onto Rainbow’s brow, soaking into the sky blue coat.
“I do love you, Rainbow Dash, and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you that morning before you left,” Spitfire whispered, taking Rainbow’s hoof in her own. “I promise, when you wake up, I’m never gonna make that mistake again. And you damn well better wake up, cause if you die, I’ll kick your ass.”
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Fleetfoot wakes... Rainbow will survive... Spitfire becomes Commander at the Academy (nice touch with that)...
AND you named the father Bifrost, like it's become canon to do so. AWESOME.
Plus the song. Nice choice.
~Skeeter The Lurker
hhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggg
What's up with Arcus and the goddamn media? They start shit no matter what happens, so why does it matter?
Fleetfoot will be happy to know she didnt kill RD
THE FEELS!
Wow this bit had some intensity to it. Glad to see Fleet made it, Dash will pull through we all know that. The only mystery left is will Spitfire ever fly again? Keep it up man, every new chapter just hooks me further.
Also, Bifrost eh? Very clever.
Yeah, that's right, you and "Spellbound Fireflies" keep trading that "favorite currently updating story" bit back and forth.
the feels
I have to say this, Arcus is a very, very good politician and manager and knows how to throw a spin just where it is needed; I really thought he was a jerk/jackass at first but he's growing on me. Likewise, the meeting went about the best it could and it was a nice touch with the Academy bit. As for Fleetfoot's confession... that's going to cause no end of trouble at this point, but it should be interesting when the horseapples impact the oscillating blades.
Particularly liked the interaction between Bifrost and Spitfire, though I couldn't help but image the song "Cleaning this Gun" playing in the background when he met Rainbow's first Coldfriend/Marefriend while sharpening his knife. Great job as always!
Fuck You, I can't stop crying
I'm too lazy to find a "feels" gif, so i just say it.
Dem feels!
And great story so far. I sense it is approaching it's end, but I think you have more than enough material to do a sequel (If you want to.)
Oh man if his fanon brother was Heimdallr that would be even more awesome XD
Ahh can't wait for more chapters, this is one of my all-time fave fics
aww god, the emotions. fuck you and your excelent writing.
Yet another good chapter; while everyone else is glad that most everything has worked out, I'm sitting over here worried about Headwind and Fleetfoot. Good job holding that out of my reach
"to"
Although really, ending a sentence with a preposition is bad grammar.
"conscience"
2690705
This will cheer you up
2690757
dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/85255656/Reactions/Feels/feels_flood.gif
Here you go
Loved the song choice, hits the feels.
Another great chapter, looking forward to rainbow's pov after waking up
Okay, you're hurting mah feels.
But still, I always enjoy readig a new chapter of this fiction. Great work 
2690757 World would be better off without that meme anyway...
2690705 Dash will get the elements of harmony to heal up spitfire or something cool like that...*luaghs unhingedly*
2690669 Daigo!
I like Bifrost.
2691037 ???
2691062 Dagon... Daigo!~
2691067 still don't get it
2691075 I WAS JUST SAYING HI USING A NICKNAME I MADE UP FOR YOU
2691082 Oh,
now i feel dumb.
2691087 *glomp* foolish pony! I shall hug the silly out of you.
2691090 ok
I hate you so much right now ;-;
I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO BE CAPABLE OF THIS MANY TEARS
Seemed instead of seed perhaps? Anyway, great chapter and keep up the good work.
Great chapter!
That Fleetfoot scene was epic and great job on the Spit/Dash first meeting since the accident; I really felt the emotion throughout the entire chapter. Quick question though: Bifrost seemed certain that Dash was going to survive, but later Spitfire made it seem less certain. Was that just a father's stubborn hope or have the doctors confirmed that she's going to be okay?
As always, keep up the awesome work!
Liquid pride, world wide.
Hee hee. Nurse Joy.
I LOVE this story! So many different feelings to process all at once. The chemistry between Dash and Spitfire, the humor, the emotion... So epic!
ok even though it was suppost to be a rather serious scene, I still died laughing when I heard the 'im nurse joy' bit
2690619
He's the team manager, it's his job to worry about the team's media perception.
2690840
Fixed, thanks!
2691090>>2691102
2691306
No parent wants to face the reality that their baby could die.
2691464
Glad SOMEBODY noticed that one
I suspected this for quite some time now. Well, not quite this, but I suspected Spitfire leaving the Bolts due to injury at least.
That's not a bad thing. In fact, it's a compliment.
I've read fics that have been totally ruined by some bullshit coming out of left field, just because the author wanted to have a twist and surprise everyone. What you've done here is perfect! You foreshadowed a lot of stuff, but still managed to give us some surprises. On top of that, the foreshadowing allowed us to figure out and guess what would happen, without coming across as patronizing in any way.
Bottom line, this was a really, really good story.
I know it's not over yet, but I just felt like saying that. Expect another, similar, possibly longer comment on the final chapter.
2691800 Yeah, that's what I figured, poor Bifrost. Thanks for clarifying!
Also:
seemed ;)
Edit: Is Officer Jenny going to take Fleetfoot into custody? :P
2691800
made my night
2691800>>2691868 I'm just confused
2691848 What he said.
Quickly becoming a fic I gotta read the second it updates... ok it already is... I hope you're happy, cause I am
2691848
I've said from the beginning, but I've always tried very hard to lay breadcrumbs throughout the whole story so that when things are said and done, you can go back to the beginning and go "holy shit!" when you see the clues. I'm glad someone at least some of you have enjoyed that
2691854
Fixed, and you never know the crazy shit I'll come up with next
Nice to see Arcus' character fleshing out more. Getting shoulder punched twice by Spitfire took away whatever tension I thought was coming between those two.
2692152
I've tried to really show that though he has to be "the jackass boss" from time to time, he's still friends with his team and someone they look up to and like.
so glad to see another chapter
its hard waiting a week for each new chapter and i always hope that theyll be done early for whatever reason just so i can read more. i havent been on Fim for very long but i think its safe to say this is my favorite fic by a long shot. keep up the good work
What is this treacherous liquid leaking from my eyes? What foul curse have you placed on my emotions with your damnable cliffhangers and feels!?
2692253
Tears are so delicious~
Why am I crying?