//------------------------------// // Only One // Story: Cutie Mark Catastrophes // by Wintergreen Diaries //------------------------------// Chapter 11: Only One Time had passed, and the weekend had finally come, though what made that particular Saturday notable wasn’t the lack of class attendance or the procrastination of a filly diligently avoiding her homework, but the much anticipated mingling of two families from different walks of life. Applejack glanced over as Applebloom made her triumphant entry into the kitchen with a spring in her step and a gleam in her eye, giving her pause as she noted that a larger grin couldn’t be found in all of Sweet Apple Acres. It was an honest display of youthful wonder, and it warmed her heart. “It’s almost like she’s excited or somethin,’” Applejack mused, tossing her sister an apple as she all but danced into the kitchen. “Does he really make ya that happy, Bloom?” “Uh huh! Ah mean, ‘o course!” she instantly corrected. “Dang, ah’m talkin’ like ‘im already? Ah thought it was supposed to be the other way around... Hey, Silver!” she called out, trotting over to the unicorn with a coat to match his name and a deep blue mane. “About how long did ya ‘ave t’ spend with Applejack before you started talkin’ like her?” “Well, let’s see... ‘bout a month, maybe?” he pondered aloud, raising a thoughtful hoof to his goatee and letting a little bit of a drawl taint his refined Manehatten accent. “And from what ah hear, it’s been just shy of a week fer you, right?” “Uh h... darn it, that ain’t right! Ah mean, it is, but... gah, ah can’t believe this!” she exclaimed, trotting over to the fridge and devouring another apple. “Now listen, before ah’m off t’ find mah friends an’ y’all start plannin’ t’ embarrass me so badly nopony wants t’ even think ‘bout courtin’ me, ah wanna lay down a few rules o’ my own.” “Ah suppose that’s only fair,” Applejack conceded with a grin, taking a seat beside Silver and turning giving the filly her full attention. “Fire away, sugarcube. This evenin’ will go just fine, with or without yer worryin’.” “Huh, says you. Firstly, Applejack? You make sure that prankster of a husband o’ yours leaves ‘is dang fangled poison joke extracts at home. The last thing ah need t’ make a good impression on Rumble and ‘is family is fer mahself t’ take a drink o’ juice an’ suddenly find that ah’ve become a colt.” “It’s like she can read mah mind,” Applejack murmured, forcing Silver take a drink to stave off a chuckle. “Wait just a minute, who’s impressin’ who now?” “Number two,” Applebloom continued, ignoring the inquiry. “Ah know this may come as a shock t’ the both of you, but Cloudchaser and Flitter ain’t exactly family, but ah expect ‘em t’ be treated as such.” “Not family? Wait, they ain’t ‘is sisters?” “No, their his fillyfriends.” Oh, ponyfeathers... Ah probably should have mentioned this sooner, but it didn't even cross mah mind until now! Have ah really adjusted to it that fast? Ah hope Applejack can do the same. Don’t even strike me as terribly odd anymore... “When ya say ‘fillyfriends,’ ya mean, like... both of ‘em?” Applejack reaffirmed, her mind doing its best to process the information but repeatedly sending back a very loud and clear “does not compute.” “T-that’s right.” “Two mares, one colt?” she asked again, still not comperehending how such a thing could even work. “...yes.” “Like, together?” “C’mon, Applejack, quit playin’ dumb! They’re all real nice, an’ ah expect you t’ treat ‘em kindly even if ya don’t agree with ‘ow they live.” “Doesn’t sound too bad,” Silver chuckled, accepting the expected glare and grinning playfully in return. “If it weren’t fer the fact that ah know you were lyin’ just now, you’d have good cause t’ run. An’ Applebloom, doesn’t that worry you just a little?” Applejack continued, her tone growing serious as she called Applebloom’s attention to something she hadn’t even considered. “From what you’ve told me, Rumble really looks up t’ Thunderlane, an’ if havin’ multiple partners is somethin’ he’s grown up with, then he may well try the same. Are you prepared t’... ugh, ah don’t even want t’ say it, but are ya willin’ t’ share?” “O’ course not! If he asks me t’ be his special somepony an’ then asks somepony else, he’s gonna have a lot worse t’ worry about than a mallet twixt his ears!” Applebloom exclaimed, leaping onto the table. “Not even one o’ Twilight’s fire rages would even come close t’ the trouble that colt would be in fer two timin’ me. Ah can accept ‘is brother, but ah’m not about t’ share mah Rumble!” “‘Yer Rumble,’ huh?” “Dear Celestia, ah said that, didn’t ah...” she murmured, staring blanking into space before throwing her hooves up in exasperated submission to the unalterable facts of life; she was smitten. It was going to escape her muzzle as it had been for the last day or so, and would continue to do so with or without her consent. Besides, it was Applejack she was talking to, and anything less would be subject to immediate evisceration should it not be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the embarrassing, painful truth of her growing affection for a certain bumbling colt that was as gentle as he was prone to breaking himself and everything else. “Oh, ferget it! Yes, that’s right, ah said ‘mah Rumble’ an’ ah’ll say it again!” “I knew my brother had started a growing trend of falling in love here in Ponyville, but I never imagined it would trickle down to the youth. And yet,” a mare with a coat almost the same hue of red as Big Mac’s continued, smiling coyly, “I must say that your stubborn declaration of love is absolutely adorable.” “Crimson, you ain’t helpin’ none,” Applebloom stated flatly, casting an imploring eye at Big Macintosh as the burly stallion took his place beside his wife, currently engaged in the infuriating laughter known as a titter. “Would ya kindly make her stop that awful racket?” “Eeyup,” came the reply, followed by a tender kiss that served a dual purpose to both silence the overly sensuous mare and bring Applebloom around to her final point. “Thank ya kindly fer that overly mushy display, brother. An’ that reminds me. Fer the love of all things good in Equestria, keep yer muzzles t’ yerselves! Ah mean it, sis, brother, and appropriate significant others!” she warned, glaring at each in turn. “The last thing ah need is more encouragement towards givin’ in t’ Rumble’s over-powered romantic charms, an’... uh... an’, ya know... it might... make me think ‘bout...” she trailed off, her volume dive-bombing to the point that not a pony could make out the soft mumbles as the filly fiddled with her hooves and let her eyes roam the ceiling and floors, thankful that neither had eyes. “Sweetheart, ah know that look,” Silver said with a grin, glancing across at Applejack who was resting her head on a hoof. “Yeah, lemme guess... it’s the one ah use with you, ain’t it?” “Eeyup,” Big Mac answered for him, turning to Applebloom who was now making much the same face as her sister. “Applebloom, ah know it’s the weekend, but what will all the crazy goin’ on, like Discord stoppin’ by an’ you an’ yer friends findin’ colts an’ such, ah think it’d do ya good t’ spend a little time at home. How about takin’ a day off from yer friends an’ helpin’ around the farm? There’s plenty t’...” “That’s a great idea!” she exclaimed, immediately perking up. “Ah’m sure a few chores would help keep me from walkin’ around with mah head in the clouds.” Applejack couldn’t help but comment, just as Applebloom couldn’t help but lament her license to carry her mallet being revoked. “That is where pegasi belong, after all...” Applejack murmured, doing her best to cast thing in a comedic light to stave off her own rising inhibitions about the coming evening. “...yer lucky ah don’t have mah mallet, sis.” Actually, that ain’t a bad idea. If ah could fly, then ah could spend some time alone without anypony gettin’ on mah case or teasin’ me about this, that, an’ everythin’ else. Ah wonder if Twilight would ‘ave any ideas on that? Oh well, it’ll have t’ wait, ah guess. Her fanciful dreams of flight were interrupted by the manehatten accent of Applejack’s special somepony, who Applebloom found a good deal less irritating than her sister more often than not. “You know, Applebloom, if you can’t handle a little teasin' like that, then how are you going to deal with...” “Atteeention! Now listen ‘ere, you sloppy lot! There’s trouble abrewin’, and we better be prepared fer the invasion!” Applebloom could quote rules all day, offer money, fame, and anything else like a genie, but when it came down to it, the rickety mare inching her way into the kitchen with her favorite cooking pot poised atop her head was a loose cannon of embarrassment just itching to go off, with or without provocation. “Granny Smith, would...” “Of course ah wouldn’t let anypony ditch their duties. What kind o’ silly question is that? Now, git sweepin’, whippersnapper! We ain’t gonna draw battle lines outta dust, no way, no how! An’ what’re the rest o’ you loungin’ around for? You know the drill, an’ I ain’t about to repeat myself! Hop to it!” Laughter contrasted nicely with the muffled groan of a filly who knew any hopes for a peaceful dinner had been court martialed, and Applejack turned a sympathetic eye to the filly, reasoning that if Rumble could survive both a mallet and all the eccentricity her family could provide, it would serve as good as any proving grounds. Sparing a moment and braving a grandmother’s wrath, Applejack trotted over and helped Applebloom to her hooves, giving her an encouraging smile and rustling her mane a bit. “Good luck, Applebloom. Ah’m sure Rumble will do just fine, but yer gonna need all the help you can get.” Grateful that she could count her sister as an ally gave Applebloom the courage to face whatever came that evening, though her confidence took a hit quite literally as she found herself poleaxed by a broom handle. “No lollygaggin’!” Granny Smith demanded, trotting over and staring down at the dazed filly rubbing at her head. “What’re you lyin’ around for, soldier? Up an’ at ‘em!” From her altered perspective from her place on the floor, Applebloom again reached the same conclusion she had the day dinner had first been suggested. “Ah’m so doomed...” Unfortunately, as she slunk off to tend to whatever task Granny Smith had in store for her, Applejack just happened to catch a glimpse of the calendar hanging in the kitchen, causing her the same harrowing sensation of impending ruination that Applebloom felt. “Oh, Celestia, have mercy... Our poor little sister...” “Eeyup,” Big Mac added sagely, very much of the same mindset as Applejack who was staring at a very bright red circle around that morning’s date. Time had raced past at breakneck pace, and Applejack wished with all her mind, while it still remained intact, that the red harbinger of chaos was simply a reminder that Rumble and his family were due over later that evening for dinner, but it wasn’t. Not even the shocking fact that Thunderlane was reported to be dating two mares at once could have worried Applejack more than the storm that was brewing: one that was sure to test the bonds of family to the utmost. Saturday: the most revered day of the week in any young colt or filly’s mind. A precious allotment of twenty-four short hours with which to shirk responsibility, put homework off for just a little longer, and gather with one’s friends to engage in good, not always clean but mostly well-intentioned fun. It was with this in mind that on a brisk Autumn morning, three fillies, two colts, and one dragon gathered in the spacious Ponyville park for a game as old as shenanigan’s themselves: tag. However, where once this game with but one or two rules could be played with reckless abandon, the group would soon discover that blossoming attraction altered the playing field dramatically. As Spike officiously announced the rules and designated a “safe zone,” Scootaloo gave Pipsqueak a lopsided grin and made a wager the Captain couldn’t well refuse. “Ahoy, Captain! How would you feel about making a little bet?” “Luck’s on me side an’ fortune in me sails this mornin’, lass. Name yer stakes!” Pipsqueak shot back, matching her smile and shedding his eye patch. “Let’s pit the power of the pirate versus the power of the ninja. Whenever one of us gets tagged, we have to go for each other. Whoever has been tagged the most at the end loses. It’s not fair to you, really,” she prodded, adopting a haughty sneer. “I’ll win by no less than five points.” “Oh ho, now ain’t that a bold claim!” Pipsqueak laughed, holding a hoof to his gut and practically bursting with anticipation. “Aye, this’ll be a breeze. Ye couldn’t stop me from takin’ that wager even with an army o’ one hundred at yer back, but for the sake of that fanciful mind o’ yers, what kind o’ hideous torture am I in for if I lose, eh?” “Loser has to wear a dress in public.” Pipsqueak gawked at the filly’s boldness, a motion that filled him with both pride and excitement. If, by some strange chance, the orange pegasus with a regal stare had stolen his heart as Luna had said, Pipsqueak was starting to think he could learn to live with that. A wager of such magnitude mandated a traditional pirate hoofshake, and Scootaloo mirrored his motion, spitting onto her hoof and slapping it to the Captain’s... only to realize that spittle came from the mouth, and it was now touching her hoof, and that was almost like having her hoof kissed, which resulted in one filly hastily wiping it off on the nearest tuft of grass while simultaneously hoping that the faint warmth in her cheeks wasn’t enough to show through. “Don’t go gettin’ all prissy on me now, lass, the fun has yet to begin.” Whether secretly trying to encourage her or simply having her competitive spirit roused by his jibes, Scootaloo refocused and readied herself as whatever long-winded dissertation on a game as simple as “get got, go get” was brought to a close. “...and those are the rules. No magic, no flying, and no tagbacks. Got it?” Spike wrapped up, receiving nods all around. “Ok, on your mark... get set... You’re it!” Taking great care to be both swift and gentle, Spike tapped Sweetie Belle’s shoulder and took off running. Laughter filled the air as everypony scattered, with Rumble and Pipsqueak darting towards the sandy beach that housed the swinging contraptions and Ruby fleeing from Sweetie Belle, hot on her trail. In a stunning turn of events, Sweetie Belle ditched her pursuit of one nimble unicorn and took off after Scootaloo, who had taken her eyes off the action for just a moment before finding them glued to a certain painted earth pony, currently returning the favor. It wasn’t so much of a “tag” as it was a full body tackle, given that Sweetie Belle expected Scootaloo to dodge away at the last minute, but as they collapsed in a giggling heap, Scootaloo rose from the dust with fire in her eyes. “Ok, time to test yer mettle, Captain...” “You know, technically, I don’t know that kissing counts as a tag, Scootaloo. You could always try, though!” Sweetie Belle tittered, looking up at her friend who still adamantly denied having feelings for anypony. Completely in the zone, Scootaloo’s words came through unfiltered, much to her dismay and Sweetie Belle’s thorough amusement. “Oh, I’ll do more than kiss when I get my hooves on him...” “Really? Awww, that’s so cute!” “Huh? What’re you... no, wait, I didn’t mean it like that!” Scootaloo sputtered, shaking her head vigorously as Sweetie Belle gave a squeal and took off running. “Get back here!” “No tagbacks, no tagbacks!” Sweetie Belle called over her shoulder, pushing herself for all she was worth as a friend she knew to be swifter than she made it quite clear that the game wasn't as pressing a concern as delivering her a perfectly justifiable pummeling. “I’m not going to tag you, I’m going to pound you!” “Can’t!” Sweetie Belle shouted gleefully, jumping up atop a bench that, to the casual observer, was just like any other, but offered a haven and refuge to any weary soul that could survive the harrowing journey to make it there. At least, for sixty seconds. “Safe zone!” “Just you wait till this is over...” Scootaloo growled, spinning around and eyeing her mark. Nopony else mattered as the orange pegasus took off at a full gallop, homing in on Pipsqueak who stood his ground while the rest scattered. Sweetie Belle was in the midst of working on a second wind when she realized that the game may have just become one sided, and really, it may just be more entertaining that way, her conclusion solidified as the wager began with gusto. The moment Scootaloo set hoof in the sandbox area, Pipsqueak proved that one didn’t have to fancy himself a warrior of the shadows to be dextrous, using hoof and mouth alike to shimmy up the chain links holding the swings and flipping onto the support beam that ran the length of the swing set. “What’s the matter, deckhoof? Ain’t ye gonna tag me?” Pipsqueak laughed, peering down at Scootaloo who was in the midst of deciding whether or not to stare in awe or stomp the ground in frustration. How the hay did he manage to get up there so fast? And without wings? I mean, I knew he was awesome, but that was... beyond awesome! Come on, Scootaloo! Are you gonna let him show you up like that? “Not a chance,” she grit out, her eyes darting around the various toys and equipment, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Oi, I’m gettin’ bored, lass. Ye make a poor entertainer, and an even worse rival.” Ok, well, not really. This is the most fun I’ve had since burying the treasure and fending off the Gatekeeper! We should do that again sometime... I wonder if she’d go for that? But I haven’t really seen her fight, except for when she uses “Charm.” I wonder what else she could do? While Pipsqueak conjured plans for a true test of Scootaloo’s skill on the battlefield, Scootaloo proved that she didn’t need wings to be graceful. Running to gain speed, she dove onto a swing, waiting until she was at the peak to jump, latch her hooves around the support, and let the momentum propel her in a full circle before launching into a beauteous back-flip, landing on two hooves and expertly balanced on the support. “Whoa, that was amazing!” Ruby gasped, with Rumble and the other two nodding their agreement as they gathered around. “I’ve made plenty of bets with the captain before, and I’ve never won a single one,” Rumble explained, sharing Scootaloo’s glee as she closed in on her immobile prey. “I think my captain may just have met his match.” Graceful in motion, but not so much in deed, Scootaloo towered over the colt, standing on her hind legs with her hooves crossed and a wicked grin while she watched the defenseless rogue, too ingrained in his future plans to notice the orange lightning about to strike. ...and then I could teach her to spar, and together, we could take down anything! Oh, I can’t wait to... fly? “Whoa, wh- ooph!” With all the gentle tenderness of a sorely agitated rhinoceros, Scootaloo shoved Pipsqueak from the bow of his vessel, flinching slightly as the colt hit the ground in a cloud of dust. Coughing a little to coax the oxygen back into his lungs, which begrudgingly removed their “do not disturb” sign and allowed air traffic to resume, Pipsqueak pried open his eyes to see Scootaloo peering down at him with a relaxed smile. “Captain, I know pirates are known to be tricky, but that’s no excuse to break the rules so soon. Weren’t you listening? They said no flying!” “...ye got sass, Scootaloo,” he wheezed, shaking his head slowly. “I’m ashamed o’ meself, bein’ bested so easily. Aye, that’s a point for ye. Ahoy, first mate!” “Aye, Captain?” Rumble replied, having been on his way to make sure Pipsqueak was all right in the first place. “Help me up,” the colt commanded, waving a hoof weakly in the air and instantly being hoisted up by his dutiful friend. “Anything else?” “What, are ye daft?” Pipsqueak chuckled, cantering away as he sought a bench to recuperate. “O’ course there is! You’re it!” Rumble stared after him for a moment before slapping a hoof to his forehead upon realizing he’d been duped, and easily at that. “Seems the mallet did more damage than you thought, huh?” Ruby chuckled, dodging nimbly backwards as Rumble took a swipe at the filly. “What, going to hit a lady? Now, that’s not very polite!” “Nuh uh!” Rumble cheered, darting after her as she had planned. Ruby wasn’t the most athletic pony around, and she knew that sooner rather than later she’d be overtaken, but she had a plan. No, it wouldn’t quite save her from being it, but then, the safe zone was much farther away than the bathrooms, which were the closest thing to secluded around. Making it behind the structure in the nick of time, Ruby ground to a halt without realizing just how close to being tagged she was. Rumble took a tumble and came out on top... of Ruby. “Oh my, I think I must be it then,” Ruby whispered, unsure of if her shortage of breath was due to touching Rumble, or if he was just heavy and pressuring her lungs. “Uh... huh?” Rumble murmured, rising to his hooves but remaining locked in place as if held in place by an outside force. Why does this feel so... wrong? There’s nothing bad about liking two mares, and I don’t think I even feel that way about her, but I... this doesn’t... Having never been confronted with the possibility nor desire to mirror his brother, Rumble stood paralyzed in thought, unable to deny the faint blush rising in the filly’s cheeks nor the heat within his own. I’ll never find a better time to ask than now... I haven’t hardly gotten to hang around him, and he’s normally with Applebloom. I mean, how could I ask with her standing right there? That’s practically begging for a mallet nap! So... “R-Rumble?” “Uh... huh?” “Would... would you ever... possibly... date two fillies?” As he suspected and feared, she was thinking exactly what he had been contemplating, and now that she had voiced it aloud, it demanded an answer. I don’t... I don’t know. If there were two fillies I liked, what would I do? Thunderlane always told me not to try, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint him, and I don’t think Applebloom would... As soon as her name came to mind, he stepped away, putting a pony length between himself and Ruby. She slowly sat up, looking into eyes that radiated sympathy, regret, and a calm acceptance of the two. “No.” “...I see.” While the filly now staring at the ground wasn’t his fillyfriend, or even the one he hoped to ask someday soon, it wasn’t in him to simply ignore her condition, so he slowly cantered back over and sat down beside her. “I don’t think it’s bad, but it was... really hard on my brother, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to see me have to go through the same thing. And... well, can you keep a secret?” “You’re not going to leave me hanging and not tell me what it is the moment I say ‘yes,’ are you?” Ruby murmured, glancing across at the colt and becoming even more unsure of how she felt as he smiled, slowly shaking his head. “I... really, um... really like Applebloom.” “That’s it?!?” Ruby shrieked, throwing her hooves into the air and falling onto her back. “A secret is something special that nopony else can know, not something so painfully obvious that you may as well have it stamped to your forehead!” “I do, actually!” Rumble corrected, rubbing what remained of the lump while Ruby heaved an overly dramatic sigh and let her limbs go limp. “I just want to make her happy, and I don’t think she’s interested in, you know... sharing.” “She’s a territorial one, huh?” “Uh huh!” Ruby couldn’t help but smile at the colt’s unabashed infatuation, and she rebounded quickly, standing upright and looking Rumble in the eye. “Thank you for telling me straight, Rumble. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything, asking you my question.” “Nuh uh! Friends, right?” “Well, duh!” Ruby quipped, holding out her hoof, grinning as she accepted the ensuing hoofshake as the universal sign of a platonic bond that it was. Unable to contain herself, Sweetie Belle blew her cover, and that of everypony else who had gathered after hearing the collision take place, gleefully blowing it out of proportion and moving their day along at a leisurely breakneck pace. After all, what’s a good day with friends without a little drama? “Rumble is holding Ruby’s hoof! Everypony to Sweet Apple Acres!” “No, wait! Come back!” Rumble cried, holding out a hoof before tearing after them, shouting frantically all the while. Who could blame him? After all, those ponies that he had assumed were his friends were actually laughing at the thought of sentencing him to a very painful nap in one of the highly uncomfortable beds in the Ponyville Clinic. “You guys, don’t tell that to Applebloom! I don’t want to go to the hospital! Guys~!” “You call that scrubbin’, soldier?” Granny Smith barked, trotting to and fro while offering absolutely no help whatsoever. Applebloom had, after two hours of said drilling, effectively learned to tune out the unbridled eccentricity of the mad mare with a mind o’ moldy mush that still somehow managed to be the craftiest cuckoo in the nest, but what she couldn’t believe is how badly she wanted a break. It was harvest season; she spent plenty of time helping out around the farm, doing much more gruelling tasks than dusting or cleaning the floors, but for whatever reason, having an ever-present rickety nag bellowing into her ears seemed to make time creep by like a cricket with its hind legs glued together and stuck and a generous portion of cold molasses. Convinced it was already three in the afternoon and well past lunch time, Applebloom looked up at the clock that had barely struck ten, dropped her scouring pad, and promptly flopped onto the floor, unable to continue without a good dose of fresh air and rational thought. “Granny Smith, ah appreciate that yer tryin’ so hard t’ get things ship shape fer...” Applebloom started, falling silent as she found the perfect way to relax. The ship! Ah ain’t had time hardly t’ pay it any attention! Why, ah can almost smell that moldy timber, hear that poor thing callin’ mah name... “Can ah take a break? Ah’ve been cleanin’ all mornin’! An’ besides, ah’ve done this floor twice already!” “What’s that you’re sayin’ now, private?” Granny Smith sneered, raising an eye wide and scrutinizing the filly before looking down and admiring her reflection in the washed and nicely polished hardwood surface. “Oh ho, lookit that! It’s my twin! How’re you doin’ today? Oh, ah’m just peachy, thank ye kindly!” Accepting flagrant senility as a reasonable out, Applebloom snuck out the door and ran for the safety of the barn, slamming the door shut behind her and breathing a sigh of relief. “At last!” Applebloom yelped to herself, darting over and cannonballing into a pile of hay. “Peace, an’ quiet, an’... an’ not shoutin’ at doorknobs and throwin’ teeth at the honey t’ see if they’d eat it all on their own! What pony does that, huh?” Taking a deep breath, Applebloom held it while she shifted gears, quieting herself and allowing a faint chuckle to escape. “Ok, so maybe it’s a little funny, but all mornin’? Ah’m young! It’ll drive a poor filly crazy! Ain’t that right, Rotterdam?” she inquired, popping out of the hay with an enthusiastic grin only to find that her friend had fallen victim to further degradation due to her negligence. “Rotterdam, why didn’t you tell me you were gettin’ worse?” Applebloom cried, rushing over and running a hoof along one of the few side panels that still remained attached to the decrepit vessel she had “rescued” from the forest. “Don’t you worry, Rotty, it’s gonna be all right! Ah’ll patch you up right as rain, you’ll see.” Soothed and reassured by the filly’s kind words, the skiff dutifully maintained what fragments of structural integrity remained while Applebloom searched for the proper tools to play doctor: mallet, nails, saw, and lots and lots of glue. Returning with her carpentry bandages, the filly got right to work, moving one of the side panels towards the bow and easily fixing the nail in place with a gentle press, the wood all but splintering at the slightest pressure. Grabbing her mallet, Applebloom took aim, closed her eyes, and gave it a good Apple family whack. While Rumble and Ruby had managed to blunder through an explanation that staved off his impending concussion, the group still decided to see if they could rope Applebloom into joining them for some fun, and thus, the cluster of friends found themselves chatting happily as they approached the clubhouse. Upon finding the assumed location of the missing crusader to be false, they made towards the barn at Rumble’s suggestion. The laughter all around became a dull murmur as the colt took a little time to ponder what had happened in the park, as well as the inevitable unveiling of the information to Applebloom. It’s only been around a week since I met Applebloom, but can I really say she’s the only filly I’d like to be with? There have to be hundreds of girls my age, but... does that matter? Is it... really ok for me to choose already? I don’t want to ever break up with anypony. It’d hurt, and I’d always remember it... “Dear Celestia, what ‘ave ah done?!?” At the sound of Applebloom’s cry echoing through the orchard and most definitely coming from the barn that the colt’s hooves had automatically carried him towards, Rumble’s didn’t give it a second thought as he spread his wings and launched into the air, making a beeline towards the building in the distance while the rest of the group followed below. They all arrived around the same time, and just as a hoof was raised to open the door, they all stood still and listened. “Ah’m so sorry, Rotty! I was only tryin’ t’ help, not blow ya t’ pieces! ...ah know it hurts! No, ah ain’t... now hold on, just listen t’ me!” “‘Rotty?’” Scootaloo whispered, all eyes turning to Rumble who was every bit as lost as everypony else. Cracking the door open just a hair, one farm filly’s friends squished together to watch one pony prove that what goes in, which in this case was nonsensical rambling to the non-living, was also bound to come out. “Please, give me another chance! Ah’ll be gentler, ah promise!” Applebloom begged, cradling a few of the larger scraps of wood that weren’t splattered into mushy toothpicks with her fell swing. “Ah don’t need t’ use a mallet, ah got glue! Doesn’t that sound nice? Sparkly, gooey glue t’ make you all better.” There was a moment of total silence wherein Applebloom leaned forward ever so slightly before springing to her hooves and throwing the pieces every which way in her elation. “Ya mean it? You’ll take me back? Oh, thank you, Rotterdam! C’mere, you cute little hunk o’ boat! Who’s a good boat? That’s right, yes you are!” Nearly purple from concealing their laughter at the scene, Applebloom tipped her audience over the edge as she flopped down onto her chest and quite unashamedly nuzzled the patient, understanding craft with her hooves spread wide as if to hug the most forgiving skiff she’d ever met. Whirling at an explosion of many voices laughing to see a flailing hoof knocked the barn door wide open, Applebloom shot from cream to crimson as she realized that her affair had been witnessed. There, with the rest of her friends rolling on the ground, stood Rumble the Betrayed, his stone-faced gaze penetrating deep into the reaches of the soul of a filly who stood convicted. The dirt and grime clinging to her coat bore testament to her infidelity, and with nowhere to hide, she rushed over to a colt spurned and shirked her petty rules of minimal contact, proceeded to throw her hooves around his neck and plea for mercy. “Ah didn’t mean t’ get frisky with mah boat, honest!” Rumble’s silence did little to reassure a filly who was convinced she was about to be dumped before she was even taken, though her declaration did threaten to cause a few blackouts amongst her breathless friends. “Ah don’t know how it happened, Rumble, ah swear it! Ah was just takin’ a break, an’ then ah tried t’ patch ‘im up, an’... an’ ah tried to nail somethin’ an’ it exploded just like the roof o’ mah fort!” Oh, great plan, Applebloom! Like he wants t’ hear ‘bout that again? It’s all over... Ah’m hopeless... Frantic self-justification shifted to dread as a tug on her hooves threatened to bring her to tears, but she had no right to keep her hooves around the one she had spurned, lavishing her affection on another. As her hooves slid away, a light gray hoof caught one of hers, lifting it slowly to the second softest mane in Ponyville. “Rough morning, huh?” he offered softly, coaxing a faint smile from the filly as she slowly began to run her hoof back and forth. “Uh huh...” she managed, her voice trembling as she realized she wasn’t being cast aside. In fact, as Rumble let out a contented sigh to confound the filly more, he realized that his questions had already been answered. It didn’t matter how many other fillies there were, or if there were ponies more pretty, or funny, or impressive, or anything, because what they didn’t have was an indispensable, quirky obsession with fixing all things broken, or an irresistibly cute bow, or the meanest mallet stroke he’d ever seen or felt. In short, nopony else qualified, because there was only one Applebloom. “Better than wood?” Rumble offered, as soothed by the massaging motion as the filly was to do so. “Uh huh!” “Better than glitter glue?” “Whoa, now don’t go gettin’ full o’ yerself,” Applebloom chuckled, running one last course through the finest of silken manes before giving him one last, quick squeeze, blushing slightly deeper as the motion was returned. The sensation of rapidly approaching hoofbeats bid her reluctantly release Rumble as Applejack, frantic and wild eyed, burst into view and made straight for her. “Wait, sis, it ain’t that bad! Ah wasn’t...” “Yeah, whatever, you were havin’ a moment an’ all that, it’s fine,” Applejack interjected, dismissing her sister’s worries without a thought and leaning closer. “Listen, Applebloom, ah just want you t’ know that ah’m sorry, ah didn’t plan this, an’ ah love you dearly.” “Uh... ok, that’s fine,” Applebloom replied, tilting her head to the side. “What’s got ya so worked up anyhow?” Then she heard it. There was no mistaking the voice, the accent, the bubbly energy just waiting to plummet the rest of her day into a tailspin of never ending chatter and nonsensical hooplah. “Applejack? Where’d you run off to? It’s been awhile since I’ve been to the farm, and your manners ain’t improved a bit! Don’t you want t’ show me around beautiful Sweet Apple Acres?” “Oh Celestia, have mercy... ah ain’t ready t’ deal with ‘im...” Applebloom started before none other than her stetson toting, vest wearing cousin of frequent exclamations and flagrant disregard for the comfort of all around strolled over, beaming widely. Embarrassment the coming evening was no longer simply a possible outcome, but an ultimatum carved in stone by lightning from the heavens. “Cousin Braeburn?!?”