Captain Forever
Chapter 18: Captain Forever
Okay, let’s see... Scootaloo peered at her reflection with pride, stepping back so she could see all of herself. My mane is brushed and styled with not a single strand out of place, my wings are preened and ready for anything... meaning flight, so don’t get any ideas! She took a moment to wave a cautionary hoof at her downy wings before dropping back to a radiant grin. I’ll bet he’ll be totally blown away by this. I sure hope so... I mean, it’d be really lame to go to all this work and have him just kinda ignore it... Facing her doubts head on, the filly couldn’t help but take comfort in an irrefutable fact: she was smoking hot.
While her mane could at times seem like the bushy, unkempt mohawk of some punk colt ready for a scrap, the filly took a few seconds to admire the length and shape that had been the result of nearly an hour of work. Her appearance would have sent her into a spaz no more than a few months back, but now, the filly beamed at the fiery eyes looking back. With her bangs swept to the left and held in place by her favorite clip and her ample mane on full display, straightened and reaching just passed her shoulders, she was well within her rights to be as confident as she was.
She’d never really had any love for makeup, but oh, how she secretly loved her dresses! She’d deliberated for longer than she cared to admit, finally deciding on one that she could at least hope Pipsqueak would see as something a “bonny lass” might wear to catch a captain’s eye. Woven of rouge silk with a white, lacy trim around the sleeves, the color nearly matched her mane and really lit up her eyes, a fact she hoped wouldn’t go unnoticed as she picked up the last piece of her ensemble and braced herself to brave the world not as the rough and tumble, nor as the weak and frail, but herself; strong, confident, and ready to rock the frills.
“Can’t forget the most important piece,” Scootaloo murmured to herself, picking up a folded rosen sash and trying unsuccessfully to tie a decent bow herself. Her hopes at escaping unseen came unraveled as she fumbled with the accessory, and amidst much muttering about understanding Sweetie Belle’s dislike for fabric and wondering how Applebloom ever managed to tie her bow, she cracked open her door and steadied herself. “Mom? I... can you come here for a second?” While the filly had projected by necessity, there was a softness in her voice that caused Grace’s ears to perk. Charging Quakehoof with the task of watching their brightly colored bundle of energy, Grace gave Hope a quick nuzzle before making all haste downstairs and startling the filly peeping through the cracked open doorway with her uncharacteristically mad scramble.
“Scootaloo, is everything alright?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine, it’s just... promise me you’re not gonna freak out.”
“Dear, it would be rather inappropriate for the one teaching you how to carry yourself with poise to lose her self-control at the drop of a hat. Come now, what is it you need?” Fairly reassured, Scootaloo slowly peeled back the door, and true to her word, Grace exerted every ounce of self-control contained within her highly trained mind not to shout with glee and wrinkle Scootaloo’s dress with copious huggles. “I suppose it goes without saying that I approve, but... may I please freak out?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No!”
“Just a little?”
“Ugh, fine! Just hurry up...” Shirking the weighty mantle of maturity just like her mother, Scootaloo rolled her eyes as Grace let out a giddy squeal of pure delight, all but dancing as she circled the filly and made inarticulate noises of approval that sounded too close to foal speak to be very flattering. Catching her daughter’s slack-jawed look of mirthless agitation, the mare coughed daintily as she reclaimed her regality and fell back into her usual tone.
“Ahem. Thank you for that, Scootaloo. I will remember your kindness. Now then, how can I be of assistance?”
“Good, you’re done. Now, hurry up and tie this,” Scootaloo commanded, holding up the sash as she quietly treasured her mother’s praise. Grace nodded and went about her work as Scootaloo quietly pondered how many others would likely respond the same way. Admittedly, Ponyville was rather rustic, and given that she could flaunt the dress she was wearing and still turn heads in Canterlot, she could only imagine what kind of reception was waiting for her outside.
“There, all finished! Tell me what you think,” Grace said in a soothingly demure tone, guiding Scootaloo’s eyes over to the mirror.
“I think I’m gonna be smothered in attention the moment I step out of the door,” Scootaloo chuckled nervously, not sure how she felt with the prospect.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less, Scootaloo.” Soothed by the calm confidence in her mother’s words, Scootaloo paid her thanks, took one last look at her room and the safe haven that it represented, and quietly closed the door along with any notion of ducking out. This step was one that she felt she needed to take not for her mother, nor Storm, nor even Pipsqueak, but for herself. Poised on the precipice of the unknown and swallowing the nervousness stirring within, Scootaloo stepped out into the late morning light, the very model of confidence on the outside and yet feeling as delicate as the smallest butterfly.
The first few minutes were frightening for the filly who irrationally expected every passing pony to pause for the sole purpose of poking fun at her, but the further into town she made it, the more whispers and murmurs of approval her ears picked up. You know, this whole girly gig isn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Every lesson, every seemingly pointless minute spent balancing books all came together to craft a mare exuding confidence with every calculated step.
Scootaloo glanced around her through calm, half-lidded eyes, noting the turned heads and relishing how each stunned whisper only served to compound the tremendous sense of purpose and strength that her mother had worked so hard to instill in her. Holding her head high and knowing she was as much herself as she was when acting the reckless tomcolt that wouldn’t be paid a second glance by most ponies, Scootaloo accepted, even embraced the anticipation welling within her chest as she thought about one colt in particular paying her the same respect.
“Whoa, you’re really pretty! When’d you get here, new girl?” Keeping in character would have been much easier had the one speaking been somepony she didn’t know, but as she turned and prepared to bat her eyelashes a little, she momentarily lost her cool as she found Snips staring starry eyed and quite literally drooling at her hooves.
“Snips, cut it out or you’re gonna get it tomorrow after class,” Scootaloo warned, taking a step back and double checking to make sure she hadn’t been given a saliva hooficure. After a few moments of absolute bafflement, the familiar voice registered in the colt’s mind, causing further breakdown of his already short-circuiting mental processes.
“Scootaloo? I... really? But... wow! When’d you get hot?” Warning the colt of his imminent pummeling with a growl, Scootaloo grew a little spooked by the way Snips didn’t take off running, but rather let out a long, airy sigh that was just too obvious.
“I’ve always been pretty. You’ve just been too blind to notice!” Scootaloo snapped, dropping back into old habits. “I swear, this is why I never showed an interest in anypony... you’re not even listening right now, are you?”
“Huwhaa?”
“Snips, you have five seconds to run for your life.”
“But I’m still lookin’ at you!”
“So help me, I will strip right here and beat you with your own hoof!” Scootaloo howled, confident that her tone had properly conveyed to the colt his tenuous grasp on life. However, she was met not with the sound of Snips scampering away to preserve his life, but the lovelorn stare of a colt without a shred of survival instinct.
“So, if I stand here for five more seconds, you’ll... strip?” Giving the ponies around quite a different reason to turn their heads, mare and stallion alike cringed as Scootaloo gave Snips a most regal pound to the face, flooring the colt and sending him skidding two full pony lengths away. Turning in a huff, Scootaloo resumed a noble gait and began to canter away, satisfied that her meddlesome classmate had learned his lesson. She hadn’t even made it ten steps before a grating voice caused her ears to shoot upright to accompany the fury burning in her cheeks as Snips did what no colt with an ounce of concern for his health would do.
“Wow, even your cutie mark is hot! I never noticed!” Slowly turning her head, Scootaloo began to tremble as she looked to find Snips gazing up her dress without a shred of dignity, himself too overcome with infatuation to be bothered with petty things like decency or etiquette. The adults present discretely averted their muzzles as Snips was repaid for his discerning eye with a justified drubbing.
“Still think I’m pretty?” Scootaloo barked, smoothing out her dress and running a hoof through her mane before peering down at Snips with a scowl.
“Uhhngh...”
“Right, that’s what I thought. Colts...” Scootaloo muttered darkly, stalking away as she sought to regain her composure. Sheesh, what the hay was that all about? It’s like he’s never freaking seen a filly before! Redirecting her attention to maintaining even steps, Scootaloo slowly felt the frustration begin to fade as she found a small amount of humor in the encounter, even admitting that she should likely apologize for possibly going a little overboard. “I’ll just say sorry tomorrow at school, and maybe ask if his nose is broken. Yeah, that should be good en- hey, what gives?” Blinded by a sudden flash, Scootaloo rubbed her eyes just in time to here the telltale click of a shutter and find her vision once again nothing but a veil of white.
“Hold it, right like that! Now, drop your hoof a little... perfect!” Scootaloo hadn’t meant to comply with the instructions of her assailant, but after being blinded a third time, she’d just about had it with whoever was messing with her.
“If I get blinded one more time there’s gonna be trouble!” Scootaloo shouted, holding a hoof over her eyes and waiting for her vision to restore. While no more light’s threatened temporary blindness, one annoyance was replaced by another, in this case the constant clicking of an over-active shutterhoof. “What the hay... Featherweight, what’re you doing?” Click. Click. Click click click click click. “Featherweight!”
“Hold it!” Click. “Got it, thanks! Keep talking, I’m listening.” Click. Click.
“Why in Equestria are you taking so many pictures of me?”
“I take pictures of everything, remember?”
“Well, yeah, but aren’t you burning a lot of film just on me?”
“It’s fine if what I’m capturing is perfection!” the colt quipped, raising his eyes above the camera just long enough to shoot Scootaloo a rosy cheeked smile.
“Oh, for the love of- stoppit! I don’t want to hear it!” Featherweight hung his head in disappointment, rejected before he even had a chance to try his tongue at poetry. His crestfallen features bid Scootaloo take a step back from the situation, and with a sigh she conceded to herself that maybe she wasn’t being entirely fair: she was dressed in her best, after all. Maybe I’m being a little too harsh. Featherweight’s never given me any trouble before, and at least he’s not looking up my dress. “Ugh, fine... just a few mo-” Click click click. Click. Clickclick.
“No, no no no, I’m out?” the colt wailed. “I can’t be out! Not with perfection just waiting to be captured! Film, I need film!” Scootaloo just shook her head as the colt haphazardly darted out of sight pushing speeds that were impressive for one that, by the look of it, wasn’t prone to any great measure of training. Amazed and a little more than slightly perturbed by all the attention, Scootaloo put her hoof down and promptly tempted fate. Fate took the challenge.
“Who else wants some, huh?” She soon regretted venting her frustration in a shout because, after a brief lull in the murmur of the crowd, a voice caused her to turn around and face the possible zombie uprising. One by one, colt and filly alike separated themselves and rushed over, slowly forming a half ring in front of a filly quite convinced that everypony had lost their marbles down a crevice of the frozen north.
“Um, hi. Have we met?” a shy looking colt began, tentatively taking a step forward before getting shoved out of the way by a rather posh looking filly she didn’t recognize.
“You’re, like, so totally gorgeous. We should be, like, bffs?”
“Are you single?” another colt piped up, only to immediately be tackled by the one standing next to him.
“Hey, I was gonna ask that!”
“Marry me!” Both colts laid aside their differences as a third threatened to ruin their claim over the ravishing beauty slowly backing away from the encroaching hoard.
“Don’t listen to him! Date me!” a filly squealed, tossing her mane with a hoof. “I’ll treat you right, better than any of those boys.”
“Just give me a chance!” another colt piped up, leaping ahead of the forward filly. “I’ll show you what it’s like to be with a proper gentlecolt.”
“Hey, didn’t you stand up Noi last week?” said the colt that had planned to skip the small stuff and move straight to the vows. Livid, the accused turned on the oppressed and started a rumble, at which point Scootaloo decided it was time for her to see how well she could flex her stealth in something as eye-catching as a dress. As dating offers piled high like pancakes at an all-you-can-eat buffet, Scootaloo frantically scanned the road for a decent place to hide, but instead her eyes settled on a slow-moving colt who hadn’t the slightest idea why half of the class was bowing before Scootaloo’s hooves. In a fit of pure desperation, the filly begged Applejack’s patience and pointed an accusing hoof at the passerby.
“You can’t have me! I’m dating Snails!” Of the myriad of frosty glares that were pointed his way, he found no time to be baffled as Twist trumped them all, glowering as she adjusted her glasses and demanded a very thorough and immediate explanation for Scootaloo’s claim. Or at least, that’s what he thought she was saying, so she made his position clear as she found herself standing at the head of the pack and quite honestly not caring if the others joined in or not; she was perfectly capable of delivering the sentence herself.
“You are tho... dead.” Cringing as a terrified wail escaped a colt who, in this case, had done no wrong, Scootaloo marked him down on the list of ponies she’d have to make up with after the whole fiasco died down and booked it out of the market, weaving through ponies with ease and not stopping until she was halfway to the other side of town. Eager to catch her breath, she made her way over towards a nearby bench and prepared to sit down. She took one look at the bench, then at her dress, and sullenly glared at the filthy liar that would offer her rest at the cost of her cleanliness.
“Somepony needs to freaking wash these things...” Scootaloo muttered darkly, whacking it with a hoof and immediately wishing she hadn’t as somepony’s day old ice cream smeared onto the underside of her hoof. “Could this possibly get any worse? What’s next, is...”
“Scootaloo? Is that-”
“No, it’s not, you can’t, I won’t, and unless you’re a delusional pirate that’s disappeared into thin air and left me to fight off rabid zombie ponies that can’t stop looking at my flanks, you never will, so just leave me alone!” Having dutifully laid out her pre-requisites for basic communication, Scootaloo whirled and gazed upon the first familiar face she’d seen all day like a dying pony might regard a nice Mai Tai floating down from the heavens in the middle of the desert. “S-Sweetie Belle? Oh, thank goodness!” Sweetie Belle wasn’t opposed to hugs, nor did she have any particular aversion to Scootaloo, but hugs from Scootaloo were few and far between, and that’s to say nothing of the fact that she was walking around in a dress in broad daylight, so Sweetie Belle was justifiably perplexed.
“Uh...” she began, gingerly bringing her hooves around the filly’s shoulders in a light embrace. “Rough day?”
“Rough? Rough?!? When are zombie ponies ever not rough?” she shouted, pulling away.
“Easy on the screaming, Scootaloo,” Sweetie Belle pleaded, holding a hoof over her ear as the ringing died down. “Take a seat and tell me what happened.”
“I am not sitting on that. I mean, have you even looked at that bench?” Scootaloo questioned, receiving nought but a blank stare from Sweetie Belle as she began to wonder if she’d somehow fallen into hibernation and woken a few months later, or if Scootaloo’s descent into germophobia had happened overnight. The filly was adamant. “Look at that bench. It is sooo not ok.” After taking a gander and realizing that she may have a point, Sweetie Belle took a look around and spotted Sugarcube Corner off in the distance.
“You look like you could use a drink.”
“Huh? No! I’m not doing the alcohol again, no way!”
“I meant like a milkshake,” Sweetie Belle corrected, chuckling as Scootaloo realized a guilty conscience had gotten the better of her and instantly ceased her rant.
“...oh. Ok, then. I guess I could use a break... but only if their seats are clean! I can’t get anything on this dress.”
“Gotta look perfect for Pipsqueak, huh?”
“Exactly! Wait, I didn’t mean...” Scootaloo started, making it two dainty steps after her friend before yielding to her friend’s all-too-knowing smile. “Well, sort of... maybe... yeah.” The filly once avidly opposed to the slightest hint of romance coming from her lips was forced to accept her friend’s jovial laughter as they made their way towards the sweet scent wafting from the local bakery. It wasn’t long before idle banter alleviated the tension of strutting the streets dressed to impress, and while Scootaloo couldn’t have known, Sweetie Belle was just as relieved to have found somepony to talk to as Scootaloo was to find a friendly face amongst the throng of starry eyed suitors for whom she held no interest. Swapping stories of the morning, Scootaloo found it to be slightly cathartic to hear she wasn’t the only one of her friends struggling in the romance department, and it took her but a moment to gloss over what could hardly qualify as a letter that had been left by Spike.
“That’s it?” Scootaloo exclaimed softly, shocked by brevity.
“That’s kinda how I felt,” Sweetie Belle agreed, allowing a rueful grin to spread as the filly double checked the back. “Nothing for me to go off of at all. It’s just a time and a place. I don’t know if it’s gonna be romantic, or sad, or... or anything else! I mean, how am I supposed to prepare for that?” Flipping the page around to find the opposite side blank just as Sweetie Belle had double checked several times that morning, Scootaloo set the page down and regarded Sweetie Belle with a strangely somber expression.
“I hate to say this, Sweetie Belle, and I mean really hate to say this, but you’ve been pretty hard on him ever since all this romantic whatever started. Maybe he just wants to be friends.” Not having an umbrella or anything else with which to shield herself from the sudden shift in weather, Scootaloo dove underneath the table to take shelter as Sweetie Belle burst into tears, though her sympathy was temporarily replaced by absolute confusion due to the total pony count in her makeshift shelter being over one and just a pony shy of three. “Pinkie? Why are you hiding under the table?”
“Huh? Why wouldn’t I be hiding under a table?” Incredulous and slightly offended at the filly’s disregard for a basic understanding of chimney logic, Pinkie Pie accepted her student’s nonexistent plea for apprenticeship and allowed Scootaloo access to her dojo, though as far as Scootaloo was concerned, she just didn’t want to get wet, and she could be housed with worse ponies than Pinkie Pie. “Now, young corn chip, ask your sensei another question.”
“Pinkie, I’m not...”
“Ask me a question! Oh, wait, do it in haiku!”
“Pinkie, as much fun as it would be to undo all of my mother’s lessons in a day listening to you talk, I’m not the one who needs attention right now!” Scootaloo urged, crawling over and placing a comforting hoof on Sweetie Belle’s leg. “Spike might be breaking up with Sweetie Belle, and-”
“He’s what?!?” Pinkie shouted in horror, surprise, shock, and disregard for gravity as she sent the table flying with a spectacular leap. It crashed down a few tables over, prompting the customers present to discretely show themselves to the door, though it was fairly obvious to Sweetie Belle that Pinkie wasn’t concerned about them. “Omigosh, this is absolutely terrible! No, wait, horrible! Bad? Those words aren’t bad enough to say how bad this is! It’s... it’s terribad! Horrawful! No, this is terrawfulbad!” Stunned from her bawling by a pink pony’s frantic antics, Sweetie Belle sniffed a little as Pinkie continued to search her imaginary dictionary for a word to properly suit the situation and gleaned a small dose of comfort from her genuine concern.
“Sorry, Sweetie Belle, I didn’t mean...” Scootaloo started as she drew up beside her crestfallen friend, falling silent as the filly vigorously shook her head.
“It’s not your fault,” she said softly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hoof before folding them in her lap. “I’ve been worrying about that all morning, and having to hear it really hurt. I think I know what’s bothering him now, though, and it’s thanks to you.”
“Really?” Scootaloo replied, slightly taken aback but hopeful as a rueful smile, small and unsure crept to Sweetie Belle’s muzzle. “All I can remember doing is making you cry.”
“You also told me I was being a huge pain to Spike, and you’re... totally right.” Readily accepting a much needed embrace, Sweetie Belle returned the motion and took a few seconds of silence to contemplate just how hard Scootaloo had hit the nail on the head. Sweetie Belle looked back over her actions the past week and found herself feeling silly at best, cruel and demanding at worst, and ashamed of herself either way.
“Ok, I’ve had about enough of the moping,” Scootaloo announced, releasing her hold and yanking gently, bidding Sweetie Belle slide unsteadily to her hooves. “You got too excited and messed things up; messing things up is what the Cutie Mark Crusaders do best! But like every other adventure that’s gone totally out of control, we always patch things up afterwards!”
“Gee, that’s encouraging,” Sweetie Belle muttered, letting slip a small laugh. Actually, it kind of is. We really do make a mess out of everything, so I’m not really out of place, and things have always turned out alright in the end...
“Instead of sitting here waiting for the world to end, why don’t you try and figure out a good way of saying you’re sorry for going love psycho? He really likes you, Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo pressed, dropping to a softer tone as her confident words slowly raised sunken spirits from the depths. “Spike’s stuck with Twilight through thick and thin. I’m sure he’ll do the same for you!”
“For me? He’s already done way too much for me!” she quipped, brightening as a new idea began to form in her mind. “I spent this whole week just thinking about me! If anything, I should do something super duper special for him! Hey, Pinkie?”
“...a loatherendous crummybummer!” the mare finished, flopping down and looking even more dejected than the filly whose love life had been called into question. “Oh, what’re we gonna do, Sweetie Belle?”
“Do you think we could bake him something really special? I know he really likes sweets, so maybe-” Sweetie Belle began, dropping silent as Pinkie gave a loud gasp and a squeal of glee as she latched onto the idea and ran with it.
“...maybe if we whip up something super amazingly tasty, he’ll smother you in kisses and marry you!”
“Well, I wouldn’t really mind, but-” Sweetie Belle started, suddenly finding herself speaking to empty space as Pinkie zipped into the kitchen to be about her work straightaways. “I guess that takes care of my afternoon, then.”
“Right! Enough chit chat! I’ve got a pirate to wow, and you’ve got a week’s worth of mess to clean up. Now, I’m not the gossipy type, but I’m gonna be super curious to know how things go with you and Spike tonight, so let’s meet up at the tavern afterwards and swap stories.”
“That’s a great idea!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, brimming with excitement. “I could invite Ruby and Applebloom, too! Speaking of which, have you heard from them today?”
“No, I’ve been too busy dealing with stuff. Tending to my mane, preening my feathers, picking a nice dress, evading suitors... puking: you know, girly things! Haven’t had time to find them,” Scootaloo replied, pulling a face. “If you’ve got the time, why don’t you try and track them down? Both of them had a pretty eventful day yesterday.” Sweetie Belle nodded in hearty agreement, and with their paths determined and their hearts set, Scootaloo watched Sweetie Belle disappear into the kitchen before she stepped out of Sugarcube Corner with the best of intentions and the highest of hopes... right into her crowd of avid fans. They had hopes and intentions, too.
I can’t believe this... Scootaloo’s eyes swept out over the crowd and found ponies of every race and gender staring back at her. I can’t just keep running; there’s no way I could lose that many of them! Come on, think... if I can’t beat the snot out of them or run away, what can I do? Her mother’s words danced across her subconscious, bringing with them the gentle reminder that all her training had been in preparation to stand on her own hooves, and the filly abandoned her hopes of a brother’s timely intervention, choosing instead to reach deep inside to draw out the strength that her mother assured her was there.
One by one, the voices hushed as Scootaloo closed her eyes, sweeping her hoof in a slow arc over her head as she balanced on her hind legs. There was no music to accompany her skilled hoofbeats as she began to dance, mesmerizing the frothing horde with every graceful, flowing motion. A tiny smile grew a little wider as the swish of her dress whispered softly with every coordinated motion, a host of ponies trained on every leap and every twirl. However, she could only handle so much classical dance, and with no music to restrict her movement, she slowly began to fuse traditional ponystep with a few more active moves of her own design.
A whistle sounded from somewhere within the crowd, followed by an encouraging shout, and then another, and another. Building in time with the complexity, Scootaloo felt a weight lifting as she created an unlikely fusion as stark as the contrast of her spirit, as delicate as she was fearsome. Leaping and kicking her hooves up, she balanced for just a moment on a single outstretched hoof as she spun, planting her hind legs and finishing with a beauteous double three-sixty flip, landing deftly and slowly bringing her hooves together over her chest, cracking open her eyes to see a sea of cheering ponies. The praise felt amazing, but the one pony she most wanted to hear calling out to her wasn’t among them. He was waiting for her somewhere, and the urgency bid her raise a hoof, shushing the crowds as the last lingering whistles died down.
“Thank you, everypony,” Scootaloo said, a tinge of bashfulness filtering into a voice wrapped in dignity. “I appreciate your praises, but if you are here in the hopes that you will catch my eye, then I’m afraid I must disappoint you. There is... already a colt who has my affection.” A collective groan rose from the crowd, but they seemed to understand, paying respect for respect as Scootaloo calmed them again, a sly smile spreading across her muzzle. “Fans, however, are always welcome. I happen to know that Featherweight has a great many pictures of me; he may be willing to part with a few if...” It worked like a charm, and ponies leapt left and right to evade being trampled under the stampede of many young hooves as the throng beat a path to the colt’s doorstep. “Huh, that actually worked?” Scootaloo mused, staring at the now empty space before throwing her head back and squealing with glee. “Hah! I so rocked that! Who’s the coolest lady ever? That’s right, it’s me! Yes!” Not seeing any reason she shouldn’t allow herself a little victory dance, Scootaloo continued her self-glorification until a familiar voice called out from behind.
“That... that was amazin’, lass...” A young heart leapt and fell at the words, a sudden nervousness bearing down on Scootaloo as she slowly turned to see none other than Pipsqueak standing by. She swallowed hard, unable to get a read on the colt as his piercing gaze seemed to penetrate deep into her heart.
He saw? I really, really wanted him to, but now that I know he has, I feel... scared. “H-hey, Pipsqueak.” The colt said nothing, neither turning away nor dropping his gaze. Of all the times he chooses to be silent... come on, say something! Anything! Even if it’s just pirate nonsense, it-
“Ye make a fine show girl. Aye, that ye do...” Such praise should have sent the filly into a giddy fit of giggles, but there was such a heavy weight of finality behind them that it only churned the dread already boiling within. “It’s little wonder all yon ponies threw themselves at ye. Grace, beauty, an’ all the danger of a harpy; ye could melt any colt’s heart...”
Everything he’s saying should be making my day, so why... why do I feel like crying? A pang of worry lanced through the filly as the colt slowly dropped his gaze and began to walk away. “Pipsqueak? Hey, where’re you going?” He walked a few more steps before pausing, his head turning back for just a moment before sinking a little lower.
“Ye’ve made yer choice, lass, an’ that’s fine. Ye make... a fine lady. Too fine fer the likes o’ this... foal.” There was loathing in a hollow voice as he named himself among the weak and helpless before beginning to walk away once more.
“I... don’t understand...” It was all Scootaloo could say at first, her mind reeling and her heart sinking with every step he took away. She didn’t feel the strength, she didn’t have a plan, but she knew she couldn’t let whatever was happening at that moment continue. “Pipsqueak, wait!” she called after him, scrambling to catch up, but as she drew near he increased his speed a little and refused to look her in the eye. “What’s gotten into you? You’re acting really weird!”
“Weird? Oh, aye, an’ prancin’ around in front o’ the local sweets shop part o’ yer daily routine, I’m sure!” he snapped back, accelerating to a brisk trot.
“You said you liked my dancing!” Scootaloo countered, matching his pace and stifling a growl as he broke into a gallop.
“I do!”
“So what’s wrong with me being girly, then?”
“Nothing!”
“Well, then why are you being such a pain in the flanks about it?!?”
“I’m not!”
“Stop running from me!”
“Running is all I know how to do!” Even if the colt hadn’t ground to a skidding halt and whirled on her with glassy eyes, just the words were enough to stop Scootaloo in her tracks. “I’m not your captain anymore! I’m not fit to be anypony’s captain, so just... just leave me alone!” A cry, soft and nearly inaudible, escaped from Scootaloo’s lips as the words sunk in slowly like a dagger digging ever deeper into an open heart. It was a moment of frightening clarity where no words were spoken, but nonetheless much was said. Scootaloo could see a pain she’d never been shown clouding once gentle brown eyes. What had been spoken wasn’t at all what the colt now sprinting away had wanted to say. She knew that, but it still hurt. It hurt for both of them.
“You... stupid idiot...” Scootaloo grit out, despising the frequency with which she seemed to be shedding tears. Mom, if I’m supposed to be getting stronger, then why the hay do I... feel so weak right now? All it took was just a few words for me to... A gentle hoof draped around the filly’s quaking shoulders, who gratefully accepted the embrace, not even bothering to look and see who it was that was holding her; she already knew, and a familiar voice confirmed her suspicions.
“I knew you were capable of driving ponies mad, sis, but sheesh! Causing a pony an identity crisis just by dancing?” Scootaloo pried her face from a dark coat just long enough to shoot her brother a warning glare, but despite his casual tone there was sympathy in his gaze.
“Your hotness is weapon’s grade, sport,” Rainbow Dash said softly, offering a sheltering wing as together she and Storm hedged in the disheartened pegasus with a healthy dose of familial support. “I knew your future coltfriend had some issues, but it seems they aren’t just with his imagination.”
“Yeah, no kidding. Thanks for the news flash, Dash...” Scootaloo muttered, sniffing as her obligatory eye roll confirmed that there was still enough life within her to show some sass. Storm and Rainbow Dash stepped aside as orange hooves gently pushed them away, and they held a respectful silence as Scootaloo took a few more moments to compose herself. “I’m angry. Part of me wants to pound his face in right now for being so freaking dense, but I also want to help him through whatever crud he’s dealing with.”
“Sounds like an average day for me,” Dash teased, smiling pleasantly while Storm pulled a face. “So, you’re gonna go hunt him down, right?”
“As if I’d just let him run away like that? No way!” Scootaloo fired back, not with as much force as she would have liked, but the confidence was there. “He at least owes me an explanation for why he ran off like that, and... he could probably use a hug or... something.”
“Don’t ‘something’ too much, or Storm will have to give you both a talk,” Dash chortled, winking at her number one fan.
“Indeed.” Smirking from behind a half-lidded gaze of intense satisfaction as both of the girls shuddered from the perfect mimicry of his father, Storm eschewed his sarcasm as he took a few steps forward, his expression growing serious. “So, you’re going to chase after him, then?”
“That’s right!”
“Well, then, you’d best hurry over to the clinic.”
“The clinic?” Scootaloo said slowly, tilting her head slightly. “Why the hay would I go there? I need to find Pipsqueak, not get a band-aid for my hurt feelings.”
“So, he hasn’t told you?” Slightly baffled moved to abject confusion laced with worry, and Storm let slip a slow sigh, closing his eyes for a few moments before wearily lifting his gaze back to his sister’s. “Pipsqueak seems to have a thing against talking about anything normal, so I guess it makes sense he wouldn’t have mentioned it...”
“What? Mentioned what, Storm?” Scootaloo pressed, unable to keep the anxiety from her voice as she peered up at her brother with pleading eyes.
“Scootaloo, Pipsqueak lives at the clinic.”
“H-he... he what?” she stammered, her eyes wide in disbelief. “But... but he’s seems perfectly healthy! He’s not sick is he? Does he have some disease, or-”
“Scootaloo!” Storm barked, raising his voice just enough to capture the frantic filly’s attention. “He’s not sick, Scootaloo, he’s... he’s an orphan.” It was a moment of imperfect clarity for Scootaloo. While it didn’t give her any explanation for what had just happened, it was still a revelation that changed everything and wiped away every last ounce of agitation from her heart, leaving only the singular desire to be the shoulder Pipsqueak could cry on. She didn’t know what to expect, didn’t have any clue as to why the colt had thrown away a title that Scootaloo respected even if nopony else did, but she wasn’t about to let him hide, and she certainly wasn’t about to let the most awesome captain she’d ever met face the tumultuous tides of life by himself: no lookout would.
It wasn’t long before Scootaloo stood poised before the doors to the clinic, panting for breath. Given all the time she’d spent with Pipsqueak over the last week, she’d have assumed that his living conditions would have come up at least once in casual conversation, but then again, their conversations were usually the farthest thing from “casual.” Forcing herself to regulate her breathing, Scootaloo pressed open the doors and made straight for the desk where nurse Softheart sat looking as dejected as Scootaloo thought she probably should. “Um... excuse me, but is... Pipsqueak here?”
“Huh? Oh, um, well, yes he is,” the nurse stammered out, appearing slightly shocked for a moment before returning to being down in the dumps for the very reason that Scootaloo was there. “Poor dear came home just a few minutes ago. Didn’t say anything to anypony, just ran straight to his room and slammed the door. He must be terribly upset...”
“I’d really like to see him. May I please?”
“Certainly. I’ll show you to his room.” Scootaloo began to follow before slowing to a stop, glancing down at herself.
“Softheart, does... does Pipsqueak hate dresses?”
“Um... no, dear, not that I’m aware of,” the mare replied, bemused. Scootaloo gave this a moment of thought before deciding that she’d rather not take the chance, and began to strip down, causing a few awkward looks and a murmur here and there. At the sound of a very nasal chuckle, Scootaloo turned to find Snips with a cold compress held onto his snout with one hoof and the other on his cheek as he dreamily stared straight at Scootaloo without an ounce of shame, though retribution was unnecessary. Too enraptured by the delight of a personal show, the colt had unknowingly begun to lean forward, and with both hooves taken he fell with a splat out of his chair, moaning loudly as his nearly fractured snout took another hit.
“Dude, I’m hot. Deal with it,” Scootaloo stated with mild contempt, shaking her head and gathering up her dress with a sigh of exasperation. “Could you possibly hold onto this for me?”
“Yes, I’ll keep it right over here,” Softheart assured her, stowing it in one of the desk drawers and, after motioning one of the nurses to tend to the colt’s bloody nose, beckoned Scootaloo to follow. Some time to think would have been as welcome as suddenly being buried with Pipsqueak in a mound of warm blankets, but that fantasy, brief and toasty warm, did soon depart as they arrived at a door like any other, adorned only with a number and nothing more. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen him this upset. I don’t know what’s happened, but please cheer him up. He’s a gentle soul.”
Gentle soul? Scootaloo watched the mare go back to work, pondering her words. Just how much do I not know about you, Pipsqueak? How many masks do you wear? I just have the one... There really wasn’t any way for her to prepare for what awaited her on the other side of the door, but if there was ever a valid reason to be rash, facing her fears with reckless abandon seemed legitimate. It was but a small motion to depress the handle and swing open the door, but crossing the threshold felt like a free-falling leap of faith.
Her eyes didn’t even make it to the ashen-faced colt sitting immovable on a stiff, uncomfortable cushion of a drab green hue that could hardly be called a mattress, before her spirits fell. For Pipsqueak, a pony that she had learned was one who thrived on adventure and boundless imagination, the bleak, white walls had to seem like nothing short of a pristinely kept prison cell. Even the usual allotment of health care items had been removed, leaving the countertop clear. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume that the cupboards were just as barren as the room, and as she turned towards the bed, her gaze came to a rest upon somepony of whom her preconceptions were melting away like dross. Something flashed by her periphery and she turned towards the window outside, but after finding nothing, Scootaloo steadied herself and climbed up beside Pipsqueak, taking a seat as she searched for something to say.
“Pipsqueak?” She should have expected he’d say nothing, but the silence still hurt. “Um... do you hate dresses... or something?” He’s still not saying anything... Scootaloo let her gaze fall to the sheets, desperate to find something to say to make everything better but finding no verbal siege tower with which to breach the walls. I’m not going to leave until you’re better, Pipsqueak. If that means I have to stay here all freaking afternoon, then dang it, I will! I’ll stay... as long as it takes.
Ticks led to tocks and seconds led to minutes as two young ponies watched in quietude as afternoon turned to early evening. Scootaloo was resolute, but inaction wasn’t something the filly did well, and as golden light began to shift in hue, she turned towards Pipsqueak, scooted closer, and slowly wrapped her hooves around the hurting colt. “I’m here for you.” Ugh, that was lame... Could I possibly be anymore cliché? Geez, when did I get so sappy...
“...ye sure are clingy, lass.”
“Gah! Sorry!” Scootaloo yelped, withdrawing her hooves and blushing hard. Pipsqueak blinked his heavy eyelids once, paying her the briefest glance before speaking again, just a tad quieter.
“I didn’t say I minded...” Trembling and not quite sure if she felt more embarrassed, excited, relieved, or anxious, Scootaloo slowly reached forward for another embrace when the colt spoke again.
“Ye gettin’ sweet on a retired captain?”
“Make up your mind! Do you want me to be mushy or not?” Scootaloo yelled, throwing her hooves wide and scowling for a few seconds before shushing herself and holding both hooves over her mouth. Regardless of the weak sarcasm that had been pointed her way, the answer to her question was painfully clear, and slightly embarrassed both of herself and the situation, Scootaloo hesitated a moment before reaching forward a third time and wrapping Pipsqueak in a loose embrace. A pulse of excitement entirely out of place with the tone shot through Scootaloo’s body like lightning as Pipsqueak leaned in, pressing back and resting his head against her chest.
“Heh...”
“What?”
“Yer heart’s beatin’ like a bongo.”
“Your face is gonna be a bongo...” Scootaloo snapped back half-heartedly, her pride unable to stir up enough agitation to overcome the maelstrom of emotion taking her and her captain on a merry little cruise on the choppy seas of desire.
“What’re ye on about? It’s the colt’s job t’ be the romantic...” Scootaloo purposed to pull away and re-educate the colt on the proper meaning of romantic with the back of her hoof, but the moment she shifted her weight, two painted hooves shot out and held her tight, the action in complete contradiction of the snarky confidence with which Pipsqueak was teasing her. The unexpected contact completed what was lacking in the delicate pink coloring her cheeks, her heart skipping like a playful ram traversing the rocky spire of romance with every bit as much grace as her hooves contained. As much as she didn’t want to spoil the moment, she needed to know what she did wrong so she could make a point of not doing it again, so she dropped her muzzle to look at him and promptly got a nose full of his mane.
Hmmm, smells like weeds and sweat. Terrific. A tickling hair caused an involuntary snort, which was actually quite timely for Scootaloo as it gave her a good reason not to think about the fact that she not only didn’t mind, but also found it to be a strangely pleasant mix. It smelled like adventure, adventure was hot, and by proxy that made Pipsqueak hot and she really, really didn’t want to be thinking about that while she was holding him tight lest certain downy appendages prepare for takeoff. “So...” she began, pausing to curse her olfactory senses and the completely unacceptable glee they were gleaning from a scent that could likely be replicated by running a push mower over an athletic water buffalo, “what did you mean when you said that all you knew how to do was to run away?”
No, no no no, don’t clam up! Scootaloo could feel the muscles in the colt’s shoulders tense as soon as the question left her mouth. As she feared, no words were spoken, and she fumbled desperately to try and alleviate the tension she’d just heaped onto an otherwise touching, if not slightly embarrassing, moment for the two of them. “I mean, sure, you couldn’t rock that dress like me; you’ve tried, I know, but...” Scootaloo exclaimed with transparent confidence, her nervous chuckles drying up like water from a bottle dripping onto pavement in the dead of summer. Painted hooves pulled away and a gentle tug bid Scootaloo relinquish her hold, and she laid aside her failed attempts at levity as deep concern gripped her heart found Pipsqueak averting his muzzle. “I’m sorry, I know that wasn’t that funny! Just wait, I’ll think of... something?”
“...look in there.” Following his outstretched hoof, Scootaloo slid off the bed and pulled out one of the lower drawers. Inside she found what she’d expect to see: an eye patch, a sharp looking bandana, a well-worn vest, and the pirates fearsome blade. Confused, Scootaloo turned around only to find the colt’s hoof had dipped slightly lower, pointing to the next. It was empty. One by one, she quietly turned out all of them until coming to the last where she found a small bag which, at Pipsqueak’s nod, Scootaloo gingerly loosened the drawstrings and peered inside. Being an honest sort, not prone to just up and stealing whatever caught his eye, Pipsqueak had found very little “treasure,” as it were: a few vaguely sparkly rocks, a wooden carving of a pony he’d found in the fields, and a few bits worth of petrified wood.
“That’s it?” Scootaloo murmured, turning towards Pipsqueak with a puzzled look that swiftly shifted to one of apology as she cringed, covering her traitorous tongue and the muzzle wherein it lay with a hoof. Pipsqueak shuddered a little, saying nothing as he slowly lifted his hoof towards the cupboards up above. Drawing the strings and gently closing the drawer, Scootaloo climbed onto the counter and opened the doors, expecting emptiness but instead finding many a burnt wick. A single lantern and candles innumerable filled the confined storage space. She didn’t want to ask, but she needed to understand, and with worried eyes she closed the doors and turned to face the colt who couldn’t find the strength to do the same.
“It’s pathetic... isn’t it?” Scootaloo didn’t think so, but it was clear that Pipsqueak was of a different mind as he bowed his head in shame. “If a pirate’s worth is measured by the treasure in his coffers, then I wouldn’t even make deckswab with that lot...” It wasn’t until he dropped his brigand’s dialect that Scootaloo realized how comforting it could actually be.
“So you’re not rolling in bits and baubles; who cares?” she declared, punctuating her point with a light stomp of her hoof. “That just goes to prove you don’t need money to have awesome adventures!” Skeptical brown eyes that wanted to believe slowly looked upon those of an honest filly who couldn’t possibly know the depth of pain reflected in wearied eyes. “There’s more to this, isn’t there...” He looked away again, nodding slowly. “Don’t be scared to tell me anything. I mean it.”
“I... I’ve...” Pipsqueak tried to begin, faltering. “...I’ve always been small,” Pipsqueak managed after taking a deep breath, his voice soft but carrying with it a burden borne over many years. “I... I don’t have wings, I can’t use magic, I’ve got a blank flank, and for an earth pony, I’m... weaker than most...”
“So what?” Scootaloo interjected, missing the colt’s point entirely. “It’s not like your height is gonna determine who you are, and everypony finds their Cutie Mark eventually. Why are you even-”
“I’ll tell you why!” Pipsqueak suddenly shouted, shattering the tranquility and quelling Scootaloo with a single, tear-ridden glance. “I’m scared of everything, ok? I’m scared of the dark, scared of other ponies, scared of new places, and back in Trottingham, everypony knew! I couldn’t take ten steps without being teased or called names! I spent every single day hiding in my room, only leaving when I had to because I knew the moment I stepped outside, something or somepony would make me cry...”
It’s over... there’s no way she’ll be my friend after this. Yelling at her like it’s her fault, crying like a foal... Pipsqueak dropped his muzzle to his hooves, the strength to stay upright too much to ask of his weary body as the conviction that he’d just severed himself from Scootaloo’s interest laughed at him from afar, along with every other colt and filly that had crushed him under their hoof. With nothing left to lose, Pipsqueak continued to, in his eyes, dig himself deeper.
“I promised... promised myself I’d do better when I moved to Ponyville. I wanted to make friends, but I hid from my classmates. I tried to be brave, but I couldn’t... couldn’t even sleep without a candle by my bedside unless somepony else was in the room. It wasn’t... wasn’t until one of the nurses got me the pirate costume for Nightmare Night that things started to get better. Hiding like that, I felt like I could do anything! I was expected to be scared, and so was everypony else! For once, I... didn’t feel like a fraidy cat. I didn’t want to go back, and pirates are brave, so I... became one. But it’s not real, nothing changed, and I’m... still afraid...” At the end of his tale, the colt hung his head and closed his eyes, unable to peer back at a filly too stunned to speak. “Who would ever want to be friends with... with this?”
It was rhetorical. Pipsqueak knew there just wasn’t any way, even in his wildest dreams, that a filly as stunning in both charm and vigor as Scootaloo would ever find this sobbing heap, the real Pipsqueak, worth her time, so he buried his muzzle and resigned himself to wait for the sound of retreating hoofbeats and the suffocating silence that would follow. Movement on the counter sent the bubbling nausea into a frenzy, but it wasn’t the echoing clip clop of hooves on tile flooring that came next, but vibrations in the bed that indicated Scootaloo was coming closer. He didn’t dare look up; he wasn’t worthy.
“Sit up.” Pipsqueak didn’t stir, but Scootaloo was feeling a little more than slightly impatient. “I said sit up,” Scootaloo commanded quietly, cuffing the colt lightly and jarring him enough to lift his head. “Listen, this is really, really simple, Pipsqueak. I told you to sit up, not stare blankly at me. Hurry up.” Pipsqueak was positively puzzled, but having no clue what to make of the filly’s behavior was better than being left alone, and with a sniffle the colt eased himself into a sitting position and looked back at the filly before him through weary eyes, wondering what she could possibly be thinking.
“If you tell anypony I told you this, I’ll have to hurt you,” Scootaloo said softly with a weak growl. “For a long time, I was scared of a lot of things too. I didn’t really let my dad help at all, and it wasn’t until Storm came back that I finally started to get any better, but you... you’ve been facing your fears for years without anypony to depend on. If that’s not the most freaking amazing show of strength ever, I don’t know what is. And... and that’s why I...” Her hair swished in front of her face as she dipped her muzzle, let slip a small sigh, and presented herself as nakedly as the colt before her: no walls, no masks, just Scootaloo. “I want to be the one to help you face your fears, just like Storm and Rainbow Dash have done for me, and I... I want you to be my captain... forever.”
There were many facets of ladyhood that Scootaloo had learned, most of which were in direct contradiction to her modus operandi. Gentleness, temperance, patience, dignity: the list could go on, but Scootaloo was done hiding. Her captain had displayed himself in terrible weakness, the act itself a feat of strength worthy of song from a more trained voice than Scootaloo could claim, but traversing new horizons often yielded great rewards for those who survived, and Pipsqueak’s breath caught as Scootaloo leaned forward into a kiss, tender and more delicate than a butterfly. Neither could have anticipated the blaze that took them both, wrapping in comforting flames of long-restricted passion, and one filly’s heartfelt kiss extended longer than planned as both found it difficult to leave such bliss, back into a world of worries and doubts. So... they didn’t.
Dizzy from the rush, Pipsqueak easily caved as Scootaloo pressed forward, unwilling to stem the flood of desire she’d imagined she’d likely never experience, given her aversion to all things romantic, though she found enlightenment to be sweeter than honey as she followed Pipsqueak down, not tainting the simple motion with an invasive tongue but relishing the simplest act of romance for every tingle that raced through her being. It wasn’t until she felt her wings spread that she pulled away, her face painted a vivid rosen hue not from shame or embarrassment, but adoration for the delicious hunk of colt that was too awesome to resist. Fortunately, the call of adventure was pretty strong too.
“As... awesome as that was, I... I... geez, you’re a good kisser,” she muttered, having only moderate success in regulating her breathing. “Storm would kill us if he saw something like that, so let’s, um... only do that every now and then, ok? Oh, right, and you kinda need to ask me out now, or I’ll have to pound you into oblivion, so let’s get that out of the way and go adventuring.”
“That... wasn’t adventurous enough?” Pipsqueak said quietly, a smile slowly edging in as shame was overthrown.
“No, it was dangerous, and I liked it,” Scootaloo shot back, grinning widely. “But I can’t be a lady like that all the time. I’d get all antsy! Now, ask me. Quick, before somepony catches us and I have a whole heap of explaining to do.” Seeing the colt smile again nearly brought on another bout of “girliness,” but Scootaloo managed to contain herself as Pipsqueak nodded his understanding.
“Would ye kindly take this sorry excuse for a captain fer a lover as well... Scootaloo?”
“I... totally do.”
“I didn’t ask ye t’ marry me, lass.”
“Same thing. I’m not letting you break up with me ever, so your fate is officially sealed!” she declared, adopting a proud smirk as her clever scheme came together. “Now, there’s still just enough time to kill a few monsters before night falls and we head to the tavern. Come on!” Revitalized, Pipsqueak set about to oblige his maiden’s request, but as he reached for the vest, an orange hoof stayed his own, reaching instead for the blade.
“You don’t need to hide completely with me by your side, you know,” Scootaloo said softly, pulling out the blade and laying it before the mystified colt. “Besides, I’d like to get to know... the other Pipsqueak a little bit better.” Genuine gratitude prompted Pipsqueak to take a tentative step closer, and Scootaloo’s already wildly beating heart raced just a little faster as she allowed just a little more mushiness, returning the colt’s embrace. A sudden thump made them both jump apart, Scootaloo to prepare an adequate defense and Pipsqueak to ready his blade, but neither actions were necessary as they turned to find a pair of worn boots arrayed in the fading sunlight.
“After all the trouble I went to swipin’ a decent pair o’ boots fer me favorite captain, he decides he’s too proper fer clothes? Tis heartbreakin’, lad,” a familiar voice called from the window, and Scootaloo paled as she realized that some or all of her little foray into the wonderful and mushy had been witnessed by one of Storm’s close friends.
“G-Gale? B-but... when did...”
“Calm down, lass, ye got nothin’ t’ fear from me,” the stallion chuckled, beaming in through the window that had been nothing short of foal’s play to open from the outside. “Pipsqueak, ye found a treasure greater than any jewel or coffer could ever supply, an’ ye made great sacrifice t’ hold onto it like ye should. I’m proud of ye, mate. Scootaloo, ye finally realized you’re a filly, so I suppose ye deserve some congratulations as well. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Storm.” Heaving an audible sigh of relief, Scootaloo took her place by Pipsqueak’s side as Gale brought things to a close.
“Pipsqueak, I have something t’ discuss with ye, but it’s best not t’ keep any lass waitin’. I’ll find ye in the tavern tonight, but until then, rest assured that there will always be somepony to guide ye through any fear, great or small. Take good care o’ each other, both of ye.” Bowing his head, Gale closed the window and started back towards his own mare, no doubt waiting anxiously to hear the news that could likely have made even the crippled pegasus fly. As the commodore made his retreat, Pipsqueak eagerly stepped into the one accessory he’d always dreamed of having. Made of a now dingy brown faux leather with a swashbuckling dash of red trim, the boots were everything Pipsqueak had hoped they’d be and more. Having previously belonged to Gale, they were worn and scuffed from many a daring feat, sparking an imagination that knew no bounds with every nick and scratch. With the comfort of his long practiced persona and the support of his newly appointed first mate for life, Pipsqueak turned to Scootaloo with a challenging grin and just one question on his mind.
“Ye ready for some adventure, lass?” Deftly swiping the captain’s blade in answer, Scootaloo tore out of the room and barreled through the clinic, weaving around nurses and carts and that poor pony ironically named Lucky that made Rumble look like a graceful ballerina with his frequent near-death experiences. Pipsqueak was hot on her trail, and the duo burst out of the clinic and into the streets lit by golden evening rays, filled with freedom and a bond that deepened with every fictional foe vanquished and every whisper shared in the dawn of Luna’s night.
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Go Sweetie... go and get your dragon!
1828070 holy balls someone actually made a pic of that (or did you make it)
Anyways just as I finished reading the update of flipside this updates
HORRAY
now all thats left is a pony couple and a pony-dragon couple keep up the good work and cant wait to read the next one
(well when it doesnt take about a month and a half
sorry i know you have better things to do but still)
1828070
That. Is. Awesomesauce.
Did I miss it!? I wanted to hear what horrid things Luna made Gale do!
“...a loatherendous crummybummer!”
Pinkie has best quote!
That ending was so heartwarming, I loved it.
1828270
That will likely won't be for another few chapters. Each couples day is being follow, and as Gale in Canterlot doesn't follow any of them we won't be seeing him until we get RubySpoon, RumbleBloom, and SpikeBelle out of the way.
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1828286
You, Sir, are one quick reader
The ScootalooxPipsqueak fic has updated! Yes, I conisder this to be about Scoots and Pip, you got a problem with that?
1828324
So I've been told, but I read every single chance I get. Good practice.
Sweet
zombieJesus this story is amazing. Why have I not faved it yet?!1828389 We're on chapter 18 and you hadn't faved???!
About 10,000 words devoted solely to ScootaSqueak? Dang. Looks like I'll be getting a large dose of RumbleBloom and SpikeBelle when each comes up. Keep this is up dude, it's great! I'd say you would be the go-to person for CMC romance if I ever had questions.....after all, not many people can masterfully orchestrate the sheer awesomeness of these ships!
AAAADVENTURE TIME!!!
Thats 2 couples down and one to go. Lets just hope nothing bad happens in the next chapter for SweetieSpike. In all honesty I thought those would be the first to kiss.
For some reason I get a Kare Kano vibe from this. In terms of Scootaloo and Pip's need to wear masks to protect themselves. It'll be interesting seeing more of Pip without the pirate persona and his relationship with his adoptive father father Gale.
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Sweetie needs to play the role of every guy in every chick flick.
This chapter gave me the warm fuzzies. I want to see how Sweetie Belle reconciles with Spike.
DUDE!!!!! This just gets better and better!
So many feels were felt. Well done good sir. Well done indeed.
SHE FORGOT HER DRESS AT THE HOSPITAL
1829458
Oh! You drive an excellent point!
1829488 I'M NOT ALLOWED TO DRIVE, I AM DRUNK
HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNG that was fantastic!! THE FEELZ!!!
1828194 Ha, me too!
AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!
The dragon's called me, it's time to pay up
For the mischief and misery I've tried to call love
There's lights in my eyes and there's wealth to be won
There's a colt coated pinto who needs to have fun
There's drinks at the tavern, the foals are gung-ho
True love blooms like a ruby's red glow
Some relationships start quickly and others take time
Love in this town is crazy, yet Cerulean's still fine
My brother's a butt-head, He's mushy as paste
But a kiss shared between us is never a waste
I'd say sorry to Snails for causing him harm
But he acted so shameless, like a cow in a barn
That horde of admirers was easy to lose
I sent them to Featherweight; put his pictures to use
With love like ours, I have to confess
I'd more often willingly, put on a cute dress
The dragon's called me, it's time to pay up
For the mischief and misery I've tried to call love
There's lights in my eyes and there's wealth to be won
There's a colt coated pinto who needs to have fun
This feeling's called love where I'm from!
My mom makes me sit, talk and act lady-like
My brother, sometimes I wish he'd just take a hike
My eyes rolling, whispers come from the kitchen
My mother's once more titterin' and snitchin'
My Dad on the other hoof's as strong as a hill
He removes all the drunks who've taken their fill
Keeping it friendly at the Tavern for pay
He sets an example, that I'd like to copy some day
The dragon's called me, it's time to pay up
For the mischief and misery I've tried to call love
There's lights in my eyes and there's wealth to be won
There's a colt coated pinto who needs to have fun
This feeling's called love where I'm from!
The table's set; we raise a toast, the Captain, me, and the Hungry Ghost
I'm glad that I finally took that last dip
You can keep your opinions, your snickers, 'cause I'm happy with Pip
This feeling's called love where I'm from!
This feeling's called love where I'm from!
Yes, a (quickly made) rewording of The Season's Upon Us.
Did nobody notice? Snips said she got her cutie mark! I wonder what it is?
That quote made the chapter for me. Oh yes, I may have diabetes now thanks to this story but I don't believe truer words have ever been said. Now hurry up and update this thing, I want to see what happens now with Spike and Sweetie!
Eeyup manly tears were most certainly shed this day
th05.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/i/2012/044/d/a/big_mac___a_very_manly_tear_by_zapapplejam-d4nhp45.png
That immediately reminded me of 'Pregnant Scootaloo'.
1828070 Hey. You nicked my picture!!!!!!
Lol, jk!!!
So, anypony got a defibrillator handy?? My heart has decided it no longer wants to function!!
Can't wait for the next part of epicness!!!!
1830217
I'm going to guess you haven't read the previous stories, as the CMC got their Cutie Marks in Under The Starry Skies.
So yeah, go read them. I may be a bit biased in my opinion though, as these stories are so awesome, I have made them
my head-canon!!
1831807 I did it so no one could claim first, mostly. XD And I did it VERY easily! I AM a Chocobo, after all!
And suddenly Scootaloo is best little pony.
HURK! *Warning cuteness overload.*
1832125 Ah "firsters". The douchebags of posts!!! I have done it once, and that was because it was the first time since Feb that I was actually first.
But I don't really see the point, so you were first to read it? Whoop-de-bucking-do!!!
Also if you're a Chocobo, why aren't you yellow??
And on to another point, an idea that came to me on a hundred metre firing range (strange place to have it, I know) reference the blog post as to the progress of the story mentioning a possible epilogue for Rumble and Pip's marks. AB likes to fix things. Rumble doesn't like to, but does, destroy things.
New shop opening in Ponyville soon, Applebloom and Rumble's "Builders and Demolisher", for all you construction and deconstruction needs!!!!
1834727 Since I'm a pre-reader for Ceru, yes, I WAS first to read it, actually. XD Either I or Ominous, doesn't really matter.
Also, I WOULD say go play Final Fantasy XIII-2, but that would require you playing it, and I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy, SO... I am silver because I am a Sentinel Class type Chocobo. Basically the knight/meat-shield of the Chocobo Family. Regular, Red, and Gold are all Commandos (Physical DPS) Blue are Ravager (Magical DPS), White and Green are both Med (Healers), Black are Sabatour, (Debuffs), and Purple are Synergizer (Buffs).
That help?
1835296 Are you telling me, that in FF XIII-2 you can actually play AS a Chocobo??? That....is bucking awesome!!! What system is it on?? The last FF game I played was X, did buy XI not realising it was a MMO, and haven't played it in, well I don't honestly know when I even picked it up!!! Now most of my games are FPS, and I have just finished defending myself against the Flood!!
But when it comes to my comment on those who post "first", I meant those that don't actually read the story and still post. I have had plenty of opportunities to get it as when I've read a story/chapter, there are no comments, but I know there are those who read faster than me. I know you get to read it first, and to be perfectly honest, I'm am jealous as buck that you or Ominous get it first, but you do have a hand in it's creation!!! I also just realised what I put, and the comment wasn't directed at you, but the morons I am mentioning here. Please, accept my apologies, no offence was intended.
And as my Junior Ranks Mess has just opened, I'm off to see what deliciously crap food our oh-so-wonderful RAF chefs are trying to kill us with tonight!!!
1835318 Sadly not AS, but you can have Chocobos on your TEAM, fighting. (Though, seriously, playing as a Chocobo? They need to get on that shit!)
Meh, none taken. In order to take offense, I would actually have to give a *BUYSOMEAPPLES!* about what other people think. XD
Wewt! Have fun guessing the poison! /)
1835347 And in other news, I just found a song about you!!!
1835430 ... How have I never seen that before? [/sarcasm]
(Not angry. Just sarcastic)
that was so darn heart-warming
Not sure I like the new scootaloo. Unidentifiable emotion detected.
1879428 Purging Database
Topnotch pirate that kid is. Surely he is a noblepony who has gone wrong.
Oh Captain, my captain.
4859079 Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooow
Seems you mostly proved me wrong. Seems you are keeping Scootaloo balanced between rough and tumble and traditionally girly. Mostly. Good.