Rumble's Rumble
Life at Vinyl Scratch’s place was never truly calm, but what chaos reigned there was a controlled chaos. Partly this was due to the presence of Octavia, a mare whose patience was angelic. Another part of that was due to the house’s occupants leaving the place on a regular basis and taking their chaotic tendencies with them.
Vinyl and Octavia had made their home a safe haven for Scootaloo, letting the girl stop by and sleep over through the weekdays when her parents were needed at the weather factories in Cloudsdale, or whatever part of Equestria that required their attention. It was certainly a better alternative than having to adjust the girl’s schedules to her parents’, or Scootaloo having to face the guilt of forcing her parents to abandon their important posts.
Still, even with their irregular schedules, her parents could come pick her up some nights, if a bit late.
Scootaloo sighed as she packed her things: a white canvas shirt and pants, and a white belt, along with lots and lots of bandages and padding. “You’re absolutely sure this is okay?”
Octavia rolled her eyes at the girl. “Really, darling, we’ve been over this: you need to take these classes if you want to control your changeling powers. Twilight Sparkle said so, your mother and father agreed, and it’s right on Vinyl’s route.”
Vinyl Scratch swung her backpack over her shoulders. “Exactly. I’ll be a little earlier than usual, but you might as well tag along.”
Scootaloo felt a knot form in her stomach. Her non-existent horn throbbed with nerves. “But what if I slip up? What if somepony finds out I’m a changeling now? What if they think I’m not the real me?”
Vinyl patted the girl on the head and gently nudged her towards the front door. “You’ll just have to do your best to stop that from happening. And if it does, your mom and dad can come down to clear things up. But in the meantime, I’ve got a radio show to get to and you’ve got a self-defense class to get to. Now scoot, Scoot.”
With a sigh, Scootaloo walked out the door. Any debate about her changeling nature was silenced. It had to be.
Nopony can find out.
Nopony will find out.
“Oh, look who it is.” Vinyl nodded towards the light black stallion with a grey mane. “What’s up, Thunderlane?” She moved to sit across him as the train conductor blew his whistle. Outside, the sky had turned red with the setting sun.
“Vinyl Scratch, haven’t seen you around in a while. I’m just off to catch Radio Canterlot’s show live.” Thunderlane smiled in greeting.
Vinyl chuckled. “Always nice to run into a fan.” She nodded towards the colt sitting next to him. “Hey, Rumble. Who’s your friend?”
Scootaloo hopped up on the seat next to her aunt and looked over Rumble and his companion. She knew the light grey colt from school, of course, and Rainbow Dash had mentioned him a few times, but Scootaloo had never talked to him for long. She’d never known him to talk to anypony else in class, either, but in Ponyville lots of kids seemed to appear and disappear depending on when one looked. She’d heard he was a very competent flyer for his age. Rainbow Dash had been trying to get her to hang out with him for a while now, at least since the girl’s change.
That stuck with her, still. Even in her pegasus pony form, Scootaloo could feel a horn on her head, one that throbbed with magic, and even though she currently wore feathers she knew she had the transparent wings of an insect hovering somewhere in her consciousness. It was like being in a dream where she had eight legs or something. At least Scootaloo looked like a regular pony now.
The same could not be said for Rumble’s companion. Where Rumble’s grey coat was a greyish white, the girl he was with was a more definite dark night grey, while her mane was the same shade of dark blue as Vinyl Scratch’s, but cut short and combed back similarly to Rumble’s look, only hers draped more along her neck and the light blue stripes were slightly more on the whitish side. Her eyes had pupils that weren’t round like a pony’s, but slit like a cat’s. The girl blinked, and her pupils turned round just as the train was leaving. Apart from the eyes, there wasn’t that much to tell this girl apart from a pegasus pony.
That is to say, not that much, ignoring the fangs and bat wings.
“I’m Chitter!” the girls exclaimed cheerfully, “and I’m going to martial arts class with Rumbly-Wumbly here.” She wrapped a wing around Rumble’s shoulder, eliciting a nervous blush from the boy.
“Err, yeah. Scootaloo, this is Chitter. Chitter, this is Scootaloo.” Rumble didn’t pull away from Chitter’s embrace, but he looked embarrassed about it. Not that Scootaloo could blame him.
Vinyl chuckled. “Oh, is she your special somepony for the Blue Moon Bloom, then?”
Scootaloo perked her ears. “What’s a Blue Moon Bloom?”
“It’s an old tradition, you’ll probably hear about it in school soon,” Thunderlane replied. “It’s like Hearts and Hooves Day, but instead of being a special holiday for two special someponies, it’s more of a holiday to ask special someponies.”
Rumble looked away from Scootaloo as Chitter’s wing hung over him clingily. Scootaloo arched an eyebrow. “And is she?”
Rumble gulped. “It’s complicated.”
Vinyl noted the boy’s nervousness and quickly changed the subject. “So, Chitter, can’t say I’ve seen a lot of bat ponies around. Where are your parents?”
“Oh, they’re on duty in Canterlot right now. And I’m not a bat pony, Miss Vinyl; my kind is called a rousette.”
“My mistake. And you’re doing a self-defense class? Same one Scootaloo’s going to, maybe?”
Rumble furrowed his brow. “You signed up for ‘Defense Against Changelings’ too?”
Scootaloo smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I-wait, Defense Against Whatnow?”
“Changelings,” Chitter replied. “You know, big bad black things, with ugly holes in their legs and scary fangs, that glue you to the ground so they can suck the life and love out of you.”
Scootaloo’s stomach almost turned when she heard that awful yet accurate description of what she was now. “Yeah, I know what they are. But they teach you how to defend against that? How does that work?”
Chitter shrugged. “Pretty standard stuff: how to drain them back, how to block off your energy paths if you’re being drained, what to do if they use a draining spell instead of just regular feeding…”
“How to see through their disguises?” Scootaloo finished with no small amount of dread.
Rumble frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Vinyl quickly pulled the girl closer and rubbed her back. “She’s just a little scared of changelings ‘coz she was in the wedding hall when that whole mess with that queen happened. And since this is just a couple of classes, we figured we might as well show her how to handle it if she ever gets into real trouble with one.”
Scootaloo did her best to look brave. Thanks a lot, Twilight Sparkle, and aunt Vinyl, and Octavia, and mom and dad, for signing me up. Oh, and thanks for not telling me I’ll be learning to defend against what I am now. Oh, and thanks a lot for setting it up so I’ll be surrounded by ponies learning just how to beat changelings like me.
Whose bright idea was this again?
This is going to be a long night.
Rumble always felt an odd sense of peace in the changing room. The floor was rubbery and covered in nubs to stop from slipping, the showers were within reach, and there was always the scent of sweat hanging in the air. The smell of effort, he felt, of a good night’s work, and of accomplishment. That, and deodorant, but that was a given.
Featherweight wrapped his long legs in bandages after putting on his hoof padding. “So have you heard about this Blue Moon Bloom thing?”
Rumble nodded. “Yeah, it’s something Princess Luna used to do; if you like somepony, you give them a blue flower. If they like you, too, then you get a blue flower. If they like you, but they just want to be friends, they give you a white flower.”
Lance frowned as he got into his white uniform. “So it’s just for girls and boys to let each other know who they like?”
Rumble pondered it and shook his head. “Not just that. It’s a really old tradition, mostly for pegasus ponies, and it’s got more to do with having secrets for each other. If you give a blue flower, that means you don’t have any secrets for that pony. Give a white flower, and it means you do. Usually you only do that for ponies you like. It’s not even really for special someponies, just friends who might wanna be really close friends.”
The grey Earth pony smirked. “Huh. I think I know who I’m giving a blue flower, then.”
Rumble squinted. “Your one-time fencing partner?”
Lance chuckled. “Worth a shot, right? What about you, Featherweight? You gonna do anything special?”
Featherweight muttered something with a piece of a bandage still in his mouth. He put it in place, donned his shirt, then put his belt on before replying. “I don’t know. I don’t really know any girl I like that much. Why would I?”
Again, Rumble squinted. Every colt in class knew about Featherweight’s crush on Sweetie Belle. That none of the fillies had managed to find out was not so much a testament to Featherweight’s acting skills as it was a testament to how much the boys of Ponyville stuck together.
“What about you, Rumble? You got a blue flower for that bat girl?”
Rumble shot Featherweight an angry glare.
“Rousette. Sorry, I wanted to say ‘rousette’, I meant to say ‘rousette’.” Featherweight held his hooves up defensively and backed away.
Rumble sighed. “I don’t know if I want to do anything. It’s complicated.”
“So, err, you and Rainbow Dash, huh?” Rumble asked as the group did their warm-up laps.
Scootaloo nodded, not even winded from the brisk gallop. “Yup. She promised she’d show me her moves once I got the basics down.”
“That’s great. Just be careful she doesn’t wear you out too much: Rainbow Dash doesn’t hold back. Trust me, I know.” Rumble grimaced at the thought, then mentally slapped himself for admitting that to a girl. That’s what happens when one has zero experience in the matter. Still, he had to start somewhere.
The group stopped. Master Ten Kicks, a white unicorn stallion with a golden-hued mane who looked like the model for about half the Royal Guards Rumble had seen, called out the next warm-up exercise. “Alright, pair up and Breaking Wave kata. Any volunteers for the new student?”
Scootaloo flashed a sheepish grin at the rest of class. Rumble sympathised with the girl: she only really knew him and Featherweight from class, and he guessed she might remember Lance as the dark grey Earth pony with the blue mane and tail that Apple Bloom had fenced against during that Cutie Pox incident, but aside from that she was surrounded by strangers. It didn’t help that there were only eight foals her age, either, with another dozen or so ponies either in their late teens or adults. The colours on most of the belts were somewhat intimidating, too.
Though, granted, the subject of defending against changelings was a fairly new addition to the curriculum, and technically anypony could join the class at any time. It was just less of a threshold for ponies who’d already taken some martial arts classes before. Unfortunately, that also meant that there weren’t any other new students around, and most ponies tended to stick to their own sparring partners.
“I’ll show her.” Rumble raised a hoof.
Chitter pouted and glared at him, much to the boy’s embarrassment. She took out her frustration on Featherweight as the rest of class started. Master Ten Kicks walked up to Rumble and Scootaloo and nodded to the boy. “Okay, then, explain it as best you can.”
Rumble gulped. He looked down at his red belt and braced himself. “First you have to check the positions. You start standing on your hind hooves, just like this. You let your arms hang, don’t lean any way.”
Scootaloo mimicked his pose, Master Ten Kicks nodded his approval.
Rumble moved awkwardly towards her. “Then you lean forward and push your hooves here and here.” He pushed against her right shoulder and the lower left side of her stomach. He suppressed a gulp when he noticed how tight Scootaloo was; her skin hid the tight musculature of a true athlete.
It felt familiar, even comforting.
Scootaloo copied the motion again.
Rumble nodded in encouragement. “And then you feel out my energy and try to pull it out.”
Master Ten nodded. “Don’t worry if you don’t feel it the first time. It takes practice.”
Rumble suddenly felt a wave of vertigo wash over him. His face felt drained of blood, his legs started growing weak. “Umm, Scootaloo?” He wobbled and and tried to keep his head from lolling to the side, but that didn’t accomplish much. His limbs lost strength, his wings folded against his sides in a reflex.
He was going down.
Master Ten separated the two before Rumble fainted. “Whoa, there. Rumble, you’re supposed to block that.”
Rumble shook his head, returning to all fours. “I was blocking it. Scootaloo’s got a really strong pull.” He looked up at the girl.
Scootaloo blushed fiercely. “Umm… sorry?”
The white unicorn stallion leaned in and extended a hoof. “Try that again, please?”
Rumble looked on as Scootaloo tried to do the same thing, even getting a faint green glow in her eyes. It didn’t take long for Ten to withdraw. “Huh. That is indeed a very powerful pull you have there, young lady.”
Scootaloo cringed. “Is that a problem?”
The black belt chuckled heartily and patted her on the head. “Not at all, especially given you’re still a blank flank. It’s nothing to worry about; this technique is available to all creatures of magic, after all, you probably just have a talent for it.” He gestured to his own eyes, prompting Scootaloo to blink to try and get that eerie glow to go away. ”Plus, it’s pretty close to a pegasus pony’s cloud control. It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong with you, really. Just be careful, okay? Don’t pull too hard next time, and let Rumble here take a little bit back.”
The girl winced. “Doesn’t that, you know, contaminate our magics or something?”
Rumble shook his hooves to get the blood flowing again. “Not really, no. Mostly you can, um, sort of purify whatever comes in you, and you can only get vague stuff, at worst. You need a spell to really do any contaminating, or be a black belt with five stripes. And, like, even then most of the time you can’t do any real damage without casting a spell. Don’t worry about it, you just caught me off guard.”
Master Ten backed away from the pair. “Alright, then, Rumble, if you’re up for it: continue.”
“Thanks for showing me how to do those moves, Rumble,” Scootaloo started. It was nine at night, already past her bedtime. Not that she minded, of course.
Rumble yawned. He smelled of other ponies’ sweat, but for once it wasn’t Chitter’s smell that dominated his aroma. He rather liked Scootaloo’s smell, though he’d never admit it. “Don’t mention it.”
“Are you okay?” She looked him over.
Rumble was embarrassed about it, but his eyes were bleary tonight. He felt heavy all over, and the only thing keeping him from falling asleep on the spot was the cold night air. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
Chitter came trotting by. “Aww, is Rumbley-Wumbley-Bumblebee all worn out? Here, lemme keep you warm.” She walked right in between Scootaloo and Rumble and put one of her bat wings over the boy’s shoulder.
Rumble didn’t see Scootaloo gag, or hear it, but he was sure she did. There was no way that kind of nickname would slip by.
“Hey there, kiddo! How’d it go?” Vinyl Scratch called out as she walked up the Canterlot street to meet them, Thunderlane right behind.
“It went okay,” Scootaloo replied.
Rumble perked his ears. “Not as scared of changelings now?”
The girl bit her lip. “Umm, would you mind not telling anypony about that?”
“Sure. But… are you?”
Scootaloo shrugged. “It’s not as bad now, but still a little.”
“You should pair up with me next time,” Chitter offered, her voice sounding cold all of a sudden. “My kind knows plenty of ways to deal with changelings.”
Rumble tried to keep his eye on Scootaloo, but with Chitter in the way that wasn’t an easy task. He still noticed her apprehension, though.
“You mean like how you can tell a real pony from a fake?”
Chitter’s cheerful tone returned, just like that. “Nah, not that. You can’t really tell that just by looking at a pony, or even by draining them. The only way to tell there’s a changeling is by forcing them to drop their disguise, and to do that you need to know which ponies are missing. A changeling is only revealed by their victims, that’s what the books say.”
Thunderlane rolled his eyes. “That’s enough, Chitter. You don’t want to give Scootaloo nightmares.”
Chitter chuckled nervously. “Sorry. You’ve got nothing to worry about if you’ve got a good pull; that means you can put up a good fight. Not like Rumbley-Wumbley here.” She shook the boy slightly with her wing.
“I’m fine, Chitter. I’ve been practising moving clouds lately, that’s all. I overdid it, okay? I can block a magic drain just fine, I just didn’t have a lot of magic left in the first place.” Rumble didn’t break away from the embrace, but it sounded like Chitter had hurt his pride.
Rumble sighed and looked past Chitter to Scootaloo. Even with his bleary eyes, he noticed she was avoiding looking at him. It was almost like she felt bad for accidentally draining him. Either that, or she felt bad about embarrassing him.
Strangely, though, Rumble didn’t mind it as much.
In fact, he found himself a lot less bothered by Scootaloo embarrassing him than he was by Chitter clinging to him.
Maybe he really should follow through with his decision.
The train from Canterlot arrived at the outskirts of Ponyville, nine thirty sharp. Vinyl and Scootaloo bade Rumble, Thunderlane, and Chitter goodnight, then went on their way.
Vinyl looked around the darkened town before turning to her cousin. She leaned in for a cursory sniff. “You’re gonna want to shower when you get home.”
“I know.”
Before long, they were at Vinyl’s place. Sitting at the living room table with Octavia were two pegasus ponies. One was a lemon yellow mare with a blue mane and tail, who had a raincloud for a cutie mark, the other was a chestnut brown stallion with a reddish brown mane and tail, and a shining sun on his flanks.
On the rare occasions that anypony ever saw Sun Dancer and Rain Dancer with their daughter, they’d swear that girl either took after her mother or her father, but never both. She seemed to possess the perfect mix of their colours, so it was hard to tell which one she resembled more. The Dancer family knew better, though. She wasn’t just the daughter of her parents; she was something special altogether, and they never let her forget it.
She ran up and jumped at her dad to hug him first, for no other reason than her mother being smart enough to leave somepony else to take the first blow.
“How’d it go?” Sun asked once the oxygen deprivation wore off.
“It went great. I got to practise draining and nopony thought anything weird about it.”
“That’s good,” Rain Dancer said. The mare gave her daughter a playful ruffle through her mane. “So, you ready to go? Your homework’s all done?”
Scootaloo sniffed the air. “Umm, yeah, but I kind of smell.”
“Not a problem, Scoot,” Sun Dancer added. “You can shower when we get home, and your bed’s been made. The only problem’s gonna be getting you to school in the morning.”
“I know, dad, I know. But now that I can fly, I kind of want to do it just once? Just from our place to school? Just to know I can do it, just once, please?”
Sun Dancer chuckled and got up. “Alright, then. But we’d better get going now, or you’re gonna oversleep.”
Scootaloo nodded. “Okay, dad.”
She was giddy with anticipation. While her Ponyville bed was great, and her weekday room was full with all of her stuff, her home in the clouds had a different air to it. Since she didn’t sleep in it as often, her cloud bed always smelled fresh and her sheets were always velvety soft. More than that, she was close to her parents there. With the grueling task of Cloudsdale’s weather factories and her parents’ irrefutable talents, it didn’t matter if they ever got better hours: emergencies happened all the time and needed to be dealt with, regardless of where they were. Cloudsdale was responsible for all the weather in Equestria, after all, and while she didn’t know the specifics of it, she did know that her mom and dad were important, and neglecting their duties meant hurricanes or floods somewhere.
She’d coped with it just fine. She had a good place to stay weekdays, a lot of fun when her parents could take days off, and a soft, warm bed just waiting for her.
Thunderlane walked his little brother home. “So you and Scootaloo, huh?”
Rumble shivered. The stallion’s tone sounded hard, and judging. “What about it? I just showed her some moves. She didn’t know anypony in class.”
“She knew Featherweight, Rumble. You should’ve let him teach her.”
Rumble grumbled. “Why?”
Thunderlane frowned. “What do you mean, why? What did Chitter have to say about you pairing up with another girl?”
The colt looked back. Chitter had flown off already, like she always did. She didn’t live that far from Rumble’s place, so there was no need for her parents to come pick her up, or an escort. Thunderlane always let her tag along. “She didn’t say anything, Thunderlane, because it doesn’t matter. I just showed Scootaloo how to do some martial arts stuff, I was trying to be nice. Aren’t I supposed to be nice to girls?”
Thunderlane grumbled. “You know full well that’s not what you’re supposed to do. What do you think mom and dad would say?”
The colt gritted his teeth. “We’re here.”
Thunderlane turned. “You gonna be okay, big guy?”
Rumble put the key in the lock and opened the door. “I’ll be fine.”
“Remember to wash behind your ears, alright?”
“I will. Good night, Thunderlane.” Rumble closed the door with a sigh and locked it, just like he’d been taught.
The house was deathly silent. With the ease of a routine calcified into habit, Rumble flipped the switch to turn on the lights and shed his backpack. He strode over to the washing machine in a back room and tossed his canvas gear and bandages in. He had spares, anyway, he didn’t need to wash anything tonight.
He sniffed himself. He didn’t need to wash anything, except himself.
The lights in the bathroom always seemed to blind him, but he guessed that had more to do with his schedule than any lighting schemes. He always showered late. The warm water ran over his bruises and the tiny chafes that managed to slip past the bandages. He liked the soreness of it all, though he’d never admit to it.
Once he was wet, he looked for some soap. Dragonfruit, lavender, orange, he could never just pick one. He didn’t really have the option of asking for any opinions, either. Dragonfruit tonight, just to smell special.
By the time he’d donned his pajamas and gotten into bed, the fatigue had gotten the better of him. Something weighed on his chest, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t from Chitter sitting on him, for once.
He didn’t need to wonder why he was feeling down. All he had to do was look at the family portrait on his nightstand. Mom, dad, Thunderlane, and him, all smiling. It wasn’t even an old picture. Felt like it was old, though.
“Good night, mom. Good night, dad. Please don’t be mad at me.”
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Okay, I'm even more confused now. It sounds like Rumble is being forced to be Chitters coltfriend by his whole family, what gives? Also, where are Rumbles parents? I get that Thunderlane has moved out, but it seemed like Rumble was alone in the house there.
Hmm. I look forward to getting more information about Rumble's situation. It seems like this is going to be very complicated indeed. Chitter probably has her reasons beyond clingy jealousy, so I'm deferring judgement until I know more. Still, that drain was probably all the more effective because of Rumble's feelings.
Also, it's always nice to see Scootaparents, no matter who they are.
I was getting very confused here.
Perhaps a link somewhere to one of your blog posts to say this is an alternate sequel when compared with Second Skin?
I'm not sure if I want to stick around, as I did really like Second Skin and I'm a little worried I'll mix up events there that don't happen in this story at all. Or even vice versa, despite the other story being complete.
I'll stick around for now. The stories are probably different enough, aside from the existence of Rumbloo, and you have a proven history of writing good changeling-Scoots stories.
Arranged marriage?
Sucks to be the kid...