The CMC's Deepest Secrets
The CMC's Deepest Secrets
Admiral Biscuit
“I don't get why we have to do this.” Scootaloo crossed her forelegs and huffed.
“We don't have to,” Apple Bloom said. “I just think it might help us get our cutie marks, that's all. When Babs realized that she was tryin' too hard an' being mean because of it, that's what helped her get hers. Maybe we're all hidin' something from each other that we oughtn't to.”
“Sweetie Belle? What do you think?”
“Oh! Um.” Sweetie stopped batting at a dust bunny and looked up at her friends. “Yeah, what Apple Bloom said sounds good.”
“Fine.” Scootaloo fluffed out her wings and dropped back to all four hooves. “But afterwards, it's my turn to pick again, okay?”
“Sure.” Apple Bloom sat on her rump. “I guess, 'cause it was my idea, I ought to start.” She looked around at her two friends. “But ya can't tell anypony, alright? I ain't ready to have this get out.”
“If it's something bad, you—“
“It's just . . . I don't think my family'd understand.” She sighed. “I hate apples. An' apple trees, an' everythin' that goes with havin' an apple farm. It's all-consuming, and I hate it. From the moment I get up, it's apple this, apple that; the breeze that comes through my window in the mornin' smells like apples an' I just can't stand it. I don't even care what my cutie mark is, so long as it don't have nothing to do with apples.”
“How can you hate your family like that?” Scootaloo wondered. “They're always doing stuff with you and for you.”
“I don't hate my family. I love em with all my heart, and I wouldn't never do anything to change that. I just can't stand the thought of spendin' all my life workin' with apples.”
“Miss Cheerilee says you can't get a cutie mark in something that you don't love,” Sweetie assured her. “How could your special talent be doing something you hate?”
“I guess so.” Apple Bloom scuffed her hoof on the ground. “Thing is, I worry that they might disown me if I get a cutie mark and it ain't an apple. I guess it sounds silly here and now, but sometimes I stay awake at night thinkin' about it.”
“It doesn't sound silly.” Sweetie wrapped her in a hug. “I . . . I'm kinda afraid of getting mine, too. I wanna be like Rarity, 'cause she's so smart and beautiful and makes such beautiful things and I can't even make toast without burning it . . . I can't make anything without burning it.” She sniffled. “I'm . . . aw heck, I'm really good at burning stuff.”
“We know.” The other two fillies thought back to the chocolate chip cookie incident. Said cookies had, by mutual agreement, been re-purposed as skeet in yet another failed cutie mark attempt.
Sweetie shook her head. “I kind of like it. I think that I might be a pyromaniac.”
“What the hay's a pyromaniac?”
“Somepony who likes startin' fires.”
“We both already knew that.” Scootaloo ruffled Sweetie's mane. “Remember how many times you 'accidentally' lit the fireworks too early?”
“Yeah, and that look in your eyes when the hardware store was burnin' down was kinda creepy.”
“What if that's my special talent? Setting things on fire?” Sweetie sighed. “Rarity's all about making stuff, not destroying it. What's she going to think when she sees me with matches for a cutie mark?”
“Aw, she'll still love you. That's what sisters do.”
“There's lots of stuff that needs to be set on fire anyway.” Scootaloo fluffed her wings again. “Like boilers and trash piles and weeds and stuff like that. I bet you could work firing train locomotives or something like that. Maybe steam ships: you could travel around the world setting stuff on fire! That would be awesome!”
Sweetie looked at Scootaloo hopefully. “Really?”
“Filly Scouts' honor.”
“Thanks guys.” Sweetie pulled them both into a hug. “You've made me feel a lot better.”
“Ew. Sappy.”
“What about you, Scoots?”
“Yeah?”
“Fine.” Scootaloo slumped her shoulders. “I . . . this is kinda going to come as a big shock to you, I guess. I can't fly.”
Sweetie rolled her eyes.
“It'll come in time,” Apple Bloom said. “Not all pegasi learn how to do it right away.”
“I'll never fly.”
The three sat in silence for a moment, before Sweetie Belle filled the silence. “Have you got some kind of birth defect?”
“You could say that.” Scootaloo reached under her belly and fumbled around; a moment later, her wings fell off. “They're fake. Good fakes; they've got a magic crystal in them that responds to my emotions, but they're not real. I'm really an earth pony.”
“I wasn't expectin' that.”
Sweetie touched a hoof to the contact plate between the wings. They popped out, and she jerked back in surprise.
“I just really love the sky and the idea of flying and all that, so I got these for Nightmare Night one year, and . . . well, I guess I never took off my costume.”
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Now I feel bad. I also am having some trouble with the idea that Scootaloo is really an earth pony with how she get her wings to propel her scooter.
6586789
The scooter has a secret engine.
6586789 Maybe that's exactly why they can (at best) propel her scooter? Notice that they sound just like a motor. Maybe it's because they're driven like a motor?
6586789
Sweetie's totally a pyromaniac.
img00.deviantart.net/3dfa/i/2012/011/9/e/magic_practice__the_comic_by_birdco-d4m199x.jpg
Yeah, that's a pretty major plot hole here. They're very good fake wings?
6587131 6587144
Gasoline-powered fake wings. I can go with that theory.
Didn't see Scoot's one coming.
I am shocked
Not sure if dumb or brilliant... Huh.
Can imagine the parking
REAL FAKE WINGS-FOR KIDS!
disclaimer *do not actually enable actual flight
9517029
Like, that could be a valid reason that she can’t fly (or barely can).
Doesn’t turn out as badly as Scootaloo Buys a Jetpack.
This is surprisingly heart-warming.
9738555
Say Sweetie Belle, y'all wanna do me a big favor? Set th' orchard on fire. My family'll get a nice big insurance payout and Ah won't have to ever work with apples never again.
9973145
I hear they use applewood to smoke bacon, so maybe an orchard fire wouldn’t be all bad.
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