Fixin' Things
Chapter 5: Fixin’ Things
“Glitter glue!” Applebloom shouted drowsily, waking with a start and sitting bolt upright in bed only to promptly flop back down as the blood rushed to her brain. Not even the threat of unconsciousness could deter the excitement racing through the filly, her eyes shining with anticipation of an afternoon spent in the barn, surrounded by nails, sawdust, and heaps of wood glue. “This is gonna be great! Ah got a project so bloomin’ ‘ard... hey, bloomin’, ah’m right clever,” she chuckled, sitting upright once more. “Anyhow, it’ll keep me occupied fer a good week at least. Ah just wish ah didn’t ‘ave t’ fix the fort... Ah’d much rather work on the boat,” she mumbled, her excitement dampened by the urgency of getting the clubhouse back in order.
Well, maybe ah can get it fixed this morning. What time is it, anyhow? True to form, her internal fix-o-meter had woken her nearly an hour before she normally awoke, and the flames of reparation gave her all the fortitude she needed. Or at least, so she thought until she leapt from bed, only to give the floor a hearty, if overly friendly, welcome with open hooves and a firm nuzzle. “Oh, mah legs... Carryin’ that boat an’ all mah tools done made me sore all over,” she lamented, turning her head sideways and heaving a sigh. Huh, that’s strange. It seems t’ ‘ave made mah hair grow longer, too. Hair?!?
“Mah bow! Where’d... phew, there you are!” she sighed, relieved that it hadn’t wandered far. Unfortunately, it had wandered, not being in her hair where she remembered, and she gave it a much needed lecture to forestall future migrations as she pulled over a chair and yanked it down from the line strung up in her room for just that reason. “What were ya doin’ up there, huh? Worryin’ me like that. Yer just as bad as the floor, ya hear me? You better not wander off like that again, or ah’m likely t’ take a washboard to ya.” It was a somewhat complicated process tying the bow herself, but she never left without it, and had become quite adept, the procedure taking a mere five minutes. Fully clothed and ready for the day, she quietly snuck through the sleepy house, closed the door behind her, and dashed straight to the barn to sneak a peek at her newest treasure.
“It really was dark yesterday. What ‘n tarnation am ah supposed t’ do with that... that... hunk o’ rotten wood? Ah’m a repair mare, not a magician! Ah don’t even think Twilight’s magic could ‘elp this thing!” she exclaimed, trotting over to find that the condition had actually deteriorated further overnight, one of the side panels having fallen off. “What’s the big idea, huh? You not right in the head? Ah’ve half a mind t’...” She paused, sitting down with a sigh and glaring daggers. “Ah’m shoutin’ at a boat.” A boat that deserves it! Gettin’ mah hopes up an’ everythin’... it ain’t fair! “Now listen here, you sorry hunk o’ driftwood. Ah’m not stoppin’ till yer a proper vessel, ya hear?” It did, and was not pleased, and it rejected her proposal with all the vehemence that a moldy skiff could, the starboard side detaching completely and falling flat.
“Oh, so you wanna do this the hard way, huh? Just you wait til this afternoon. We’ll see who’s laughin’ then!” Defiant silence was all she received for her threats, and with a sigh Applebloom collected her tools, grumbling as she went. “Ah ain’t gonna let it win, no way, no how. Honestly, the nerve o’ some... Dangit, ah’m doin’ it again! Are you cursed? Ah’ll bet you are, that’s why you were out there all by yerself, isn’t it? An’ now you got me doin’ it again, but don’t think fer a second you’ve won, ya hear me?” She closed the barn door with a slam, her frustration running high at such mockery of her talents, fictitious and unspoken though it was, covering even the soreness in her legs as she trotted towards the clubhouse.
What am ah gonna tell everypony if ah can’t fix it? Ah don’t wanna let anypony down, but it may be too much even fer me. Ah hope today gets a little better... For whatever reason, not even the prospect of fixing the clubhouse seemed to cheer her, but as she drew closer, she found that fixing the roof may be one item to cross off her to-do list. What... but 'ow? Ah didn't fix anythin' in mah sleep, did ah? The roof is all fixed up! Who would possibly... Shedding her tools was simply not an option, but every hoofbeat that brought her closer filled her with a growing curiosity. Her mind was filled to bursting as she approached, arriving to the top of the ramp with the sun’s first rays shining on her back, warming her coat and lighting the scene, her breath caught in her throat at what she saw.
Not even a treasure chest full of glitter glue and mallets could have been more beautiful to Applebloom than the scene set before her. Rumble, lit by the morning rays and covered hoof to head in the wondrous wounds of craftsmanship, had just stolen the heart of a simple filly without even being awake, and as a million thoughts swirled around her head at once, she recalled blinking once before she was seated in front of the colt with a hoof outstretched and ready to tussle his mane that she couldn’t help but notice looked quite soft.
“What the hay am ah doin’?” she attempted to exclaim, though as breathless as she was it came out quite soft. Rumble, it ain’t fair! How’s a filly like me supposed t’ resist that kind o’ charm, huh? Yer words were bad enough, but this... this just ain’t fair! You ain’t even awake, an’ yer tyin’ mah head in knots an’ makin’ mah heart go all crazy, Rumble. “Hey, no, stop that!” she cried, smacking her own hoof away and holding it in front of her muzzle. “Now, listen ‘ere, you rascal. Just ‘cause ah’ve discovered the cutest, sweetest colt in all o’ Equestria who done fixed mah fort without even bein’ asked doesn’t mean ya get t’ touch his soft, earthy gray hair, ok? Now, if ah catch you near him again, it’s gonna be the mallet fer breakfast, ya hear?” Unfortunately, her hoof wasn’t the only thing that heard her voice.
“You... think I’m sweet?” It was then that, for the few fleeting seconds Rumble had left before losing consciousness once more, he learned Applebloom was either easily startled or didn’t like her internal ramblings made vocal being heard by anypony but her hooves, and with one deft movement that Rumble’s eyes couldn't follow, she let a yelp, reached for her fabled mallet, and reflexively bashed him over the head with all the grace of an angry rhino. Her face paled before growing bright red as she grew livid with her mallet for betraying her and the colt, and she hurled it against the wall with all the force she could muster while the colt returned to his adorable sleeping position with his head resting across his hooves, plus one rather painful looking welt.
“What’s the big idea?” she cried, horror and disgust with her mallet for committing such an underhhoofed, malicious deed. “He was just wakin’ up! That ain’t no reason t’ get yer splinters in a tizzy an’ go all crazy!” She sat down hard, on the verge of tears as she looked back and found the lump already growing in size, his mouth slightly agape with a trickle of drool spilling onto his hooves. Dangit, ah’m the one who went crazy. Ah was just so scared he’d heard me bein’ all mushy an’ stuff when ah ain’t ready t’ even think about it, but that wasn’t no reason t’ hit ‘im. Now.. he ain’t even gonna want t’ be mah friend... “Dangit, this is no time t’ feel sorry fer mahself, not when... that’s gonna need ice.”
Leaving her mallet to ponder its actions, and subsequent punishment, Applebloom raced back home, ignoring the groaning in her muscles, and filled a towel with ice, tied it off so the cubes wouldn’t fall all over, and returned to find Rumble still asleep. “It ain’t much,” she murmured, setting the ice atop his head and backing away, “but there ain’t a whole lot else I can do.” Except sit here an’ tell mahself what a numbskull ah am. Ah can’t believe ah hit ‘im like that! Ah’m just plain ‘orrible... This sentiment was unwittingly magnified as Rumble came to with a well developed headache and partially numb face from the ice, and not remembering what had happened nor why he was in the fort or really much of anything aside from the throbbing of his noggin, he buried his face in his hooves, displacing the ice as he let out a groan.
“Uhhh... Mh hd rlly hrts.”
“Ah know! Ah’m sorry, ah’m a terrible pony an’ ah didn’t mean t’ smack ya like that, but ah did, an’ now yer gonna hate me an’... an’...” Rumble’s ear twitched as he slowly tried to gain his bearings upon realizing he was not alone, and he lifted his head, cracked open his eyes, and suddenly found that the pain had been set aside as he beheld Applebloom looking far more miserable than he felt.
“Hey, are... are you ok?”
“Do ah look like ah’m ok?” she snapped back, her emotions fluctuating wildly as guilt clashed with gratitude wrapped in unworthiness and tied with the bow of attraction. What, an’ now ah’m gonna yell at ‘im fer bein’ concerned? Ain’t now way, Applebloom. Just stop diggin’... Rumble forced himself upright, reeling for a moment as his head went for a swim, and he picked up the towel full of ice, trotting over and peering down at Applebloom who was refusing to make eye contact. A sudden cool made her shiver as the ice was set atop her own head, and she slowly turned back to find Rumble smiling, of all things.
“Is that any better?”
“Why’re you... bein’ so nice t’ me?”
“You look sad, and I want to try and help.”
“Sad... you... ah hit you, Rumble!” Rumble leaned back a little as she shouted, unable to come to terms with the colt’s willingness to overlook her nearly concussion-inducing blunder. “That lump on yer noggin’ is from me! Ah hit you not five minutes ago... don’t you remember? An’ yer givin’ ice t’ me? You’re already banged up from fixin’ the fort, an’ you probably spent all night on it, an’... ah just...” Ah can’t... ah can’t cry an’ make ‘im feel worse, it’s just... ain’t right... She couldn’t stop a few tears from slipping out, falling to the floor and glimmering in the sunlight. Applebloom couldn’t have known how terrible a position she was putting Rumble in, on one hoof knowing that Applejack has made it very clear he was to keep his hooves to himself, but on the other, it was his first impulse to comfort the filly.
Well, if I can’t give her a hug, I could at least say something nice to her. He hadn’t really taken the time, what with the craziness of truth or dare overshadowing their first meeting coupled with his rather bumbling entrance, but as he gave himself a moment to simply look at Applebloom, he couldn’t help the faint, rosen hue that colored his cheeks as he came to a frightening, wonderful, and startling conclusion: Applebloom was beautiful. He knew she was cute, but there, with the sunlight at her back, lighting her mane and causing her tears to gleam as they fell to the floor, he decided that if nothing else, she could use an encouraging word.
“Did you know that your mane shines in the sunlight?” She slowly lifted her head, blushing hard as she looked over at the pegasus who was gracing her with a smile as warm as the morning rays.
“Ah... it... does?” The sunlight caught her eyes, and Rumble felt compelled to comment on that too.
“Uh huh! And your eyes... are like pure gold when the sunlight hits them. It’s really... quite beautiful.”
“They... but...” Celestia help me, ah can’t deal with this much... whatever it is! An’ he ain’t just sayin’ it, either... He means every word. It ain’t right, why me? Nevermind, ah don’t care why... Overcome by his seemingly boundless display of kindness, coupled with his soothing words of praise, Applebloom threw her hooves around his neck and shed a few more tears. As she was simultaneously amazed that his mane was as soft as it looked and chagrined that she was even thinking about that given their circumstances, everything melted away as she felt hesitant hooves encircle her, the embrace returned and even more mind blowing than his words. For a moment, Applebloom stopped trying to understand what was going on inside her head and heart, simply letting a colt with a seemingly limitless supply of empathy indulge her selfish tears.
Ah don’t know what’s goin’ on, but ah... ah don’t want t’ move. Ah’ve yelled at ‘im, and knocked ‘im senseless, an’ yet he’s still holdin’ on tight. Rumble, ah’m really sorry, honest... “Yer mane is real soft.” They both pulled away at the same time, two young faces sharing a tender crimson hue. “What the hay did ah say that for? What’s wrong with me today?” she wailed, before marching to the nearest table and planting her face against it with great force, proceeding to make her frustrations known verbally, though not one word was understandable. Rumble applied the ice to his face, grateful for the soothing cool, before plopping it atop Applebloom’s head.
“That sounded pretty painful, so here, use...”
“Stop bein’ so nice t’ me! Ah brained you with a mallet, fer cryin’ out loud!” she shouted, throwing her head back and whirling on the colt, only to find herself disarmed and stripped of her frustration by the playful, caring smile Rumble was using to tie her thoughts in knots.
“So?”
“So? What d’ you mean, ‘so?’”
“So.”
“You’re really not upset?”
“Nuh uh.”
“Did ah knock somethin’ loose?”
“Uh huh!”
“That explains everythin’.”
“Uh huh!” Confounded at every turn, unable to deny her sudden fascination with the colt, and filled with warmth by his indefatigable patience with her quirks, Applebloom shed her tough outer shell for just a moment more, wrapping Rumble in a massive hug and holding on tight.
Rumble... this is way better than bein’ upset, or shoutin’... Ah really am sorry, and ah’m gonna do my best t’ make it up t’ you. Fer placin’ so much weight on manners, ah sure could learn a few mahself... Rumble already felt the debt had been paid in full, but he was beginning to wonder if Applebloom felt the same strange feeling in the pit of her stomach that he was. He sure hoped so.
“Are you sure I’m just a... you know...”
“Friends can hug friends,” she asserted, glaring half-heartedly at the wall behind him. “Now, don’t go gettin’ the wrong idea, ah... uh...” she started, pulling away and raising a hoof to punctuate her point and promptly losing her train of thought as she saw the faint pink against the white of his fur in addition to the burning within her own cheeks. “Don’t, you know... go gettin’ any funny ideas ‘bout all this. Ah just wanted t’ say ah’m sorry, an’ that’s a fact.”
“You got it.”
“You don’t believe me, do ya?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You were thinkin’ it.”
“And you were too.”
“What’re you talkin’ about?”
“Nothing.”
“It was somethin’!”
“You’re right.”
“Ah know that, now just... ugh, colts!” An' now that ah have a half decent reason t’ be frustrated, what do ah do? Ah laugh with ‘im! “Ah’ve got a right peculiar noggin.”
“At least yours doesn’t have a big ol’ bump on it,” he chuckled, sincerely hoping that her momentary glare was feigned, which, judging by the awe-inspiring smile that came after, it was. Rumble’s stomach rumbled, prompting a similar agitated groan from Applebloom, and she immediately perked up at the idea of sharing breakfast with such a hard working pegasus.
“Well, if anythin’, you’ve earned a bite t’ eat fer all yer work. It’s still early, so maybe we can sneak somethin’ without mah sister knowin’!” Applebloom exclaimed, leaping to her hooves and helping Rumble upright.
“Are you sure that’s...” he started, smiling as he was adamantly and enthusiastically cut off.
“Of course it’s not a good idea, but ah ain’t takin’ no fer an answer. Besides, ah’m hungry, you’re hungry, and there’s a refrigerator full o’ good food. Ah’d say that sounds like a fix t’ me.”
“And you know all about fixing things, right?”
“Right! See, you’re learnin’ already.” With the sun at their backs and lifted spirits to combat the fatigue that was bound to catch up sooner or later, they raced through the orchard and back towards the farmhouse, a place promising a need for stealth with great rewards to offset the risks, as well as the hunger known only to young, growing, healthy ponies.
Gale was pleasantly surprised to have returned home to find his fillyfriend fast asleep, thereby foregoing a reprimand, but leaving before she had awoken? Note or not, he was cheating death, or at least a lecture, but a certain earth pony had piqued not only his curiosity, but Scootaloo’s as well. His word was his honor, and he didn’t want to let things deteriorate any further for a pony he knew was more than the air-headed, unrestrained hooligan Quakehoof apparently took him for. Chatting idly with one of the stall workers, he spotted his mark leaving the clinic, clad in his pirate’s regalia and already off on an adventure by the way he was swinging the sword.
“Lad, yer about t’ get a lesson from yer new captain,” Gale chuckled, slowly making his way towards the pony who gave Gale little cause to employ his skills in stealth; Pipsqueak was off in his own world. The young colt gave a pause, wondering why things seemed so much clearer, and he sheathed his blade so he could think aloud.
“Huh, now that’s really strange. Why’s everything... hey, wait a second, my eye patch! It’s gone! And my... my bandana, and... Lionheart! But I just...”
“Lookin’ fer these, bucko?” Pipsqueak whirled to find a dark blue pegasus with awesomely scarred wings clad in his attire, deftly tossing the sword in graceful arcs from hoof to hoof.
“Hey, give those back! Don’t you know it’s wrong to steal?” Pipsqueak demanded, stomping a tiny hoof in frustration.
“Well now, there’s an odd thing t’ hear from a pirate.” Intimidation factor aside, Pipsqueak didn’t let anypony lay a hoof on his blade, and he charged forward, only to stop, stunned as the pegasus spread his wings with a grunt, launching himself onto a nearby stall, springing off and onto the roof of a house close by.
“Listen up, Pipsqueak. I’m yer captain now, so clean the gunpowder from yer ears an’ listen good. Yer first task is to win back yer gear.”
“Ye got a lot o’ nerve, mister. And...” he started, gasping softly as Gale swept down and landed in front of him with a roguish grin.
“Captain, lad, ‘tis Captain,” he chuckled, patting the colt on the head. “Aye, you’ll adjust. Pipsqueak, I don’t mean ye any harm, ye understand? I’m hear t’ help the good Captain out.”
“How’s stealing my stuff gonna help me?” Pipsqueak asked, dropping from character, confounded and ecstatic at the same time. This pony is really cool! He talks like a pirate, acts like a pirate, and can even handle a sword like one!
“Ye want t’ set things straight with Scootaloo’s parents, right? I can teach ye, lad, but goin’ in armed t’ sign a treaty ain’t much of a show of good faith, now is it?” Gale grinned as the colt gave a short gasp of comprehension, amazed by his captain's wit.
“Yer right! Yer a clever one, Captain!”
“Aye, ye’ve got a lot t’ learn, an’ I’ve a lot t’ teach ye. Now, listen up...”
Mornings for Scootaloo had become an object of loathing, a time filled with manners, etiquette, and all sorts of other proper, ladylike things for which she cared little. Or at least, that’s what she continually told herself. Maintaining a cool, spunky image would be nigh impossible should she let it slip that she was starting to warm to all the facets of behaving as a proper lady, especially in the cosmetic sense. It wasn’t that long ago that her secret finally came out amongst her friends, and they had been more than accepting, though she still refused to act or dress up like an upper class mare in public, and she still had trouble bringing herself to dance, whether her talent mandated it or not.
The training itself was gruelling. Nopony in their right mind would enjoy waking early, marching up and down the stairs with books piled atop their head, learning how to eat with several different types of fork and spoon, each with its own specific, moronic purpose, and other such nonsense. Scootaloo was currently ignoring the rumbling in her stomach and, despite her craving for coolness crying out in opposition, impressing her mother by displaying just how much she had grown in regards to carrying herself. Three books atop her head, and there they stayed, and she even managed not to drop one as she turned and glanced at the door.
“Oh? Your friends are quite early, Scootaloo,” Grace remarked, glancing towards the door as well.
“Does that mean I can take a break?” Scootaloo asked hopefully, hungry and not particularly fond of the idea of being openly seen practicing.
“I heard no ‘please,’ and no, you may not. Please continue while I let them in. I think... ten more repetitions should suffice?”
“Ugh...”
“Now, now, groaning is not befitting a lady,” she corrected, smiling sweetly to match her daughter’s sullen glare. “Go on, keep going.” Scootaloo raised a hoof and was preparing to pointedly stomp to the top, but chose to play things safe, letting out a sigh as she continued up the stairs with regal posture. You make your mother very proud, Scootaloo. I know this isn’t all that pleasant for you, but you’re bearing it beautifully, just as you are. She made eye contact with her daughter, who managed to roll her eyes and smirk without dropping any books, and Grace simply shook her head as she opened the door.
“Welcome, you t... oh, hello.” Scootaloo paused near the base of the stairs, unable to see who it was Grace was addressing. “I don’t believe we had time to get acquainted when last you were here. Might I ask your name? Oh, where are my manners? Do come in, I’m sure Scootaloo will want to see you.” Scootaloo’s eyes experienced a sudden increase in size as Pipsqueak minus his pirate’s regalia trotted inside.
“Morning, Scootaloo!” he called out cheerfully.
“P... P...”
“Pipsqueak! Ye fer... I mean...” he self-corrected, trying his best to remember everything Gale had told him. Let’s see... respect towards the mare and her parents... No wild thoughts or fantasies, whatever that meant, and... shoot, what else? Oh well. “Might I ask why you have books on your head?” Said tomes were instantly evicted posthaste, flying into the wall and dropping with a slam to the floor, all without breaking eye contact.
“Books? What books? I don’t see any books!”
“But Miss Scootaloo, they’re right...”
“There aren’t any books!” she shouted, throwing manners to the wind and vaulting the railing along the stairs. With deft movements, she scooped up the books, disappeared down the hall, deposited them elsewhere, and roughly by the sound of it, before returning to the main room with a crazed look of triumph stamped on her face.
Oh yeah! The Captain also said mares love complements, especially concerning their appearance. It’s kind of silly, but if it’s what I’m supposed to do... “You look quite lovely this morning.”
Oh no! It’s happening! I’ve absorbed too much lady...ness! Gotta get rid of it! Pipsqueak tilted his head to the side while Grace turned her face away, her body quaking due to withholding a torrent of laughter as an undue amount of clattering sounded from the kitchen. “Oh, where’d it go? I can’t be seen like this! It’s gotta be... aha!” There was a silence, followed by the sound of galloping, sticky hooves. “Ha! Bet I’m not lovely now!” Scootaloo exclaimed triumphantly, covered head to hoof in maple syrup.
Let’s see... feelings? “That’s ok, you’re still pretty on the inside, Miss Scoota...”
“Gah! What’s it take, huh?” Scootaloo shouted, rearing and holding her head in both hooves. “I’m not pretty, I’m not a lady, and I’m definitely not ‘Miss’ anything! What the hay happened to you?”
“But...”
“But nothing! I’m not dainty, and you can’t prove otherwise, so there!”
“You can dance really nice, though.” It was the final crushing blow to Scootaloo’s ego, and she dropped silent, blushed hard, and bolted from the room to have herself a gooey sulk. “Hey, wait a second!” The only response he heard was the slamming of the door to her room, and he turned to Grace who was turning deep red, nearly blue as tears streamed from her eyes. “What’d I say wrong? Actually, I’m sorry, I never introduced myself. I’m Pipsqueak, and I’m Scootaloo’s friend, I think. Can I have your name?”
You, my dear colt, are the perfect weapon to help Scootaloo. As a mother, I can only do so much, but with somepony her age, and a colt at that, encouraging her towards being a proper lady? She’s defenseless! Unable to contain it any longer, Grace let forth a rather unladylike and thunderous chorus of laughter, managing to stay upright and placing a reassuring hoof on Pipsqueak’s back as he waited patiently for an answer. “Oh... oh my, I’m... I’m terribly sorry,” Grace replied, taking a few deep breaths. “How rude of me. I am Flying Grace, Scootaloo’s mother, and I welcome you into our home.”
“What’s he doing here?” They both turned to find Quakehoof standing at the top of the stairs with the ever cheery foal Bright Hope quite contentedly making an early morning meal of her father’s mane.
“Uh oh, the Gatekeeper,” Pipsqueak murmured, reaching for his sword out of habit but finding himself defenseless as the gargantuan pony descended to the stage. No sword, no armor, no additional party members... My chances of survival are, well... really bad. Do I run? Maybe I can get the upper hoof if I use some sort of... what do they call it, “gorilla warfare?” What’s that mean, anyway? Do I just run in and pummel his leg until he drops? All Gale’s advice melted away as imagination took over, and thus it was that his life was spared as he found he was not alone in the fight, and his ally was infinitely more effective in taming the beast than he would have been.
“Now, Quakehoof, let us not be rude to our guest,” she soothed, closing the distance between them with a short, stunningly graceful flight before lighting beside him like a dove and nuzzling up beside him. “He’s proven himself to be quite the gentlecolt this morning.”
“Gentlecolt? That ruffian?”
“‘The Siren uses ‘Caress.’ The Gatekeeper is paralyzed... Brilliant!” Pipsqueak muttered, his odds of survival rising dramatically. Quakehoof and Grace both turned to the colt with confused looks on their faces. Unfortunately, Scootaloo heard her father's comment, and came bolting from her room, soaking wet from the shower and furious that her father had insulted her friend yet again.
“Dad! Don’t talk to him that way!”
“Um, Scootaloo, it’s really not appropriate to be seen in your current state. Please, go dry yourself off,” Grace said softly. She looked at herself, then at Pipsqueak, who couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“Friendly fire... Scootaloo’s... charm. Paralyzed...” Letting out an uncharacteristically high-pitched squeal, Scootaloo fled the scene yet again to the cooling heat of her steaming shower, the water feeling refreshingly cold against her burning cheeks. Quakehoof shook his head, glaring back at the colt who hadn’t averted his eyes, but openly stared at his daughter.
“Gentlecolt, indeed...”
“Hmmm, he does seem a bit more... aggressive than he was a moment ago. Just a moment...” Grace urged, striding over and blocking the colt’s vision of Quakehoof by sitting down in front of him. “Pipsqueak? Are you all right?”
“All right? Well, I guess so... Why do you ask, Miss Grace?”
“Now I’m really confused. Is this colt all right in the head?” Quakehoof muttered, receiving a warning glare from Grace who, unfortunately, hadn’t found the time to relay Gale’s information to her husband.
“Dear! That is not appropriate,” Grace hissed. “If you have nothing nice to say, then please, take yourself elsewhere. I’ll not have you threatening or insulting anypony in this house.”
“Hmph.” Hope waved enthusiastically to Pipsqueak as her father left, his heavy hoof beats sending vibrations through the floor. Grace turned back to Pipsqueak, who was staring down at the floor.
“Maybe I’m not right in the head... I got all carried away again.”
“Don’t say things like that... I think you’re quite charming, Pipsqueak,” Grace soothed, placing a gentle hoof on the colt's shoulders.
“That other pony doesn’t think so. Is that Scootaloo’s dad?”
“Yes, that’s her father and my husband, Quakehoof,” Grace affirmed, looking towards the kitchen where she could hear Hope’s happy babbles. “So... why did you come over here so early? Don’t you have school?”
“Not until later. I wanted to try and say I’m sorry for making everypony mad yesterday, but now I've just made everything worse! I wasn’t trying to, but whenever something exciting or dangerous happens, I just get all... rrrrrgh!” he growled, flailing his limbs wildly. “You know?”
“So, you feel threatened by Quakehoof, is that it?”
“Well, yeah! Why wouldn’t I? He’s like... ten times my size! And yesterday, he was keeping me from apologizing to Scootaloo! That’s important!” Grace glanced over at the doorway where Scootaloo was peaking through, no doubt listening in.
“I accept your apology, Pipsqueak. Have you eaten? You may join us for breakfast, if you’d like.”
“Well... I wouldn’t want to be a bother...” Grace would have none of it, but before she even got a chance to reply, Scootaloo made her appearance, her mane combed to one side, still slightly damp, and a faint blush still visible in her cheeks.
“If... you promise not to stare, I guess I could let you eat with us.”
“Promise not to... stare?”
“Yes, stare, like what you’re doing right now!” she barked, shooting a pleading look at her mother who simply shrugged. “Uh, what’re you doing, Pipsqueak?”
“I’m covering my eyes so they stop looking at you! It’s not my fault. I’m a pirate; I’m always looking for pretty things!”
“Mom, make him stop!”
“Stop being perceptive?” Grace chortled, lacking anything resembling sympathy for her tomcolt daughter’s feminine charm being acknowledged. “Come, Pipsqueak. You may uncover your eyes, and if my daughter takes issue with your appreciation of her beauty, she may cover her own.” Scootaloo did just that, though Pipsqueak still whispered an apology as they made their way into the kitchen. Quakehoof came out a few moments later, and Scootaloo raised a hoof, hesitated, then messed her hair up before trotting after them. Grace eyed Scootaloo’s tousled mane with a hint of disappointment before shrugging it off starting in on preparing breakfast.
“Seeing how syrup is so popular, I suppose I should make some pancakes.”
Pancakes? Pipsqueak couldn’t remember the last time he had tasted them. While hospital food kept him going, it did set the bar very high taste wise, and he found himself enraptured by the thought. Pancakes are like... the candy of breakfast! Fluffy and golden... Like treasure! Although, most treasure isn’t fluffy... Wait, don’t they make chocolate coins? Hmmm...
“Pipsqueak, are you ok?” Scootaloo asked, elated that he wasn’t staring at her but finding it odd that he viewed the far wall with such interest.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine, thank you.” And off he went again, deep into thought while Scootaloo pondered the colt’s transformation with dejection.
What the hay happened to him? I mean... one day, he’s, like, the coolest pony ever, swinging around a sword and coming up with all sorts of crazy ideas, and now he’s acting like... like... a gentlecolt! This is terrible! Somepony corrupted him or something... Wait, I’ll bet it was mom! But she was home yesterday... “Pipsqueak, did somepony brainwash you?” Having already been thinking of digging up a chest of shimmering flapjacks, the statement aroused his fanciful nature, much to Scootaloo’s delight and Grace’s amusement.
“Nay, lass, what gave ye such a crazy idea?”
“I don’t know, maybe the fact that you were using manners and stuff earlier?”
“Tis strategy, me hearty!” he declared, shooting Scootaloo a wink. “Even a salty sea dog can be proper every now and again!”
“Well, I like ‘Captain Pipsqueak’ a whole lot better.”
Really? That’s not normal. Is Scootaloo one of those “oddballs” that doesn’t like manners? I mean, I guess that’s ok, since I have a hard time with it... “Scootaloo, are you an oddball?” Grace discretely choked on her water while Scootaloo tried to figure out a proper response, though she found quickly there wasn't one.
“What the hay is that supposed to mean?”
“I dunno, I thought most fillies like manners!”
“I’m not a... ok, I am a filly, but I like adventure! Not boring, well-behaved... stuff.”
“But, what about your da...”
“Enough about my dancing!” she shouted, standing up on her chair. “It was a dare, I don’t do it often, and I certainly don’t like anything girly!” Her resolve on this matter faltered a bit as Pipsqueak lowered his gaze, looking almost hurt. Why does he look like that? Was it something I said?
“I really liked your dancing...” Oh well, at least she likes adventure. And maybe I can convince her to dance some more later? Probably not... I better not press it, she seems to get agitated about it.
He likes... my dancing? But... but that doesn’t make any sense! He’s a pirate, for crying out loud! His imagination borders into hallucination territory! So why in Equestria would he... like that? Scootaloo pushed the thoughts from her mind as he spoke up, bringing a smile to her face once more.
“Adventure, ye say? Well, ye came to the right Captain! Henceforth, you’re officially part o’ me crew!”
“Aye aye, Captain! What’s first on the list?” Grace expertly slid a plate to each of them, piled high with pancakes cooked to perfection.
“Vittles!”
“What? That’s not adventure,” Scootaloo replied skeptically.
“Ye’ve got a lot t’ learn, missy. Every pirate buries his treasure where it’s sure to be safe, and this gold is sittin’ in plain sight! Help me hide it, on the double!” he declared, lathering the steaming pile of bready goodness with a liberal layer of syrup before passing the bottle to Scootaloo.
He even turns eating a meal into an adventure? Yes, I so love this colt! I mean, like, or... never mind. Eager for something to distract her, she made eye contact and donned a challenging grin, wondering if there was any stock in his high ranking title. “I’d make a wager with my captain.”
“Name yer stakes, lass. This brigand never turns down a challenge.”
“If I bury my treasure first, you have to lend me your sword for a day.” His eyes narrowed as he fell into the zone.
“Ye name a high price, but I’ll accept those terms. If I win, ye get t’ dance a merry jig for me.”
“Oh, it is so on! Mom, do a countdown!” Scootaloo cried, her eyes shining with the fires of competition.
“Very well. In light of the presence of our guest, I shall allow you to breach good table etiquette this once. Are you both ready?”
“Aye!” they cried in unison.
“All right then. Hope will help me judge,” she explained, setting the foal down on the table. “Three... two... one...” She waited a few moments extra, two pairs of young eyes locked in the heat of a challenge and waiting her word. “Go!” Pipsqueak thought for sure he had the upper hoof, but Scootaloo was holding her own, proving to him just how unladylike she could be.
Oh ho, she be a fiery one! This is awesome! Doubling his efforts, he caught back up and they started in on the second half. Scootaloo’s focus was broken as Pipsqueak forgot the challenge and cried out in alarm. “Foul play! Foul play, I say! Somepony’s stealin’ me treasure!” Hope gave him a syrup smeared smile and took another large bite, chewing happily as her cheeks puffed out.
“Foul play? She’s helping you out!”
“Helping? She’s stealing all me treasure! Grab the munitions, all hooves to starboard cannons!” Pipsqueak cried, grabbing the bottle of syrup and squirting the offending foal. “I stunned the beast! Finish it off, deckhand Scootaloo!” he exclaimed, tossing the bottle over to Scootaloo who caught it deftly and sprayed Hope with another burst of syrup. No longer interested in the “treasure” due to the wealth of sugary sweetness smattered all over her coat, she let loose a string of babbles and squeals of delight, flopping onto her back and finding her hoof a much more satisfying pacifier than normal.
“How’s that for a first timer?” Scootaloo smirked, sliding the bottle back over and folding her hooves across her chest.
“Not bad, but yer fergettin’ something, lass.”
“Oh, and what’s that, Captain?”
“Yer treasure still be glintin’ in the sunlight.” They both stared at each other a moment before bursting into laughter, temporarily returning to reality. I never thought it was possible, but I was totally wrong! She can be a lady and a pirate. Best... friend... ever! She’ll make first mate in no time at this rate! I feel a little bad for Rumble, though...
“What’s all the noise about?” Quakehoof’s inquiry was met with uneasy silence as he walked slowly into the kitchen, prepared to give the colt a chance should he behave himself. Unfortunately, he cut an imposing figure, and Scootaloo’s encouragement galvanized the young hero into overdrive.
“Foe detected! All cannons, fire at will! Give it everything you’ve got! Scootaloo, get down!” Scootaloo dove for cover as Pipsqueak slammed both hooves down hard, emptying half of the bottle in a single massive gooey burst. Quakehoof’s eyes slowly opened and locked the colt in a deadly glare, syrup running down from his mane and muzzle, dribbling down his forelegs. Uh oh... that didn’t work!
“Gimme that!” Scootaloo demanded, breaking the chain of command and shoving Pipsqueak out of the way. “I’ll show you how a filly fights... take that! And that!” she cried, stomping down again and again. It was all good fun until they ran out of syrup, and as the bottle gave a wheeze, Scootaloo took a moment to quail as she realized what she had done. “Uh... Pipsqueak? I think we may...”
“We’re all out of gunpowder! All hooves, abandon ship! Evasive maneuvers!” Grabbing Scootaloo by the hoof, the two tore past a very livid Quakehoof, leaving one breathless Flying Grace to clean up their mess while Hope reveled in the tasty aftermath, munching on half-eaten pancakes and helping herself to all the syrup a foal could hope for.
I really need to get an alarm clock. Sweetie Belle groaned and pulled a pillow over her head, hoping to muffle her father’s booming voice from further disturbing the fragile serenity and comfort offered by her rather luxurious bed. Which would be better, I wonder? Waking up to somepony shouting my name, or a dull, off key, blaring electronic noise?
“Sweetie Belle, it’s time to get up!”
Electronic noise. “Ok, I’m up, dad!” she shouted back, coughing a few times and removing the pillow, taking her first glance around the room in bleary eyes. If I had to wake up to somepony calling my name, at least if could Spike or something like that. At least that would give me a reason to drag myself out of this warm, soft, inviting...
“Sweetie Belle?”
“Ah! Spike?” she yelped, sitting bolt upright as she found the dragon himself standing in her doorway, his eyes roaming anywhere but where hers sat fixed on him. “What... what are... how did...”
“I, uh... spent the night yesterday, remember?” he offered, fiddling with his claws. Why am I so nervous? It’s just her room.
Why is he blushing? This is just my room...
Oh man, she’s blushing! I wonder what she thinks I’m thinking? It’s not anything bad!
No, stop it, cheeks! There’s no reason to blush right now! “Spike, stop blushing, you’re...”
“...not kissing!”
“I was going to say something like ‘making me nervous,’ but now I know exactly what’s going on in your brain,” she teased with feigned annoyance.
“I wasn’t thinking about doing anything like that, Sweetie Belle! What kind of a guy do you take me for?”
“The blushing romantic who wants a kiss.”
“Oh, right, like you weren’t blushing at all either.”
“You started it!”
“And here I had you figured for the mature one...”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Anyways, I just came to tell you breakfast was ready. Be down when you’re done blushing and stuff.”
“Spike? Get back here!” Sweetie Belle called out, though her only response was the latch of a closing door. Flopping onto her back, she let out a low growl and stared up at the canvas over her bed. I can’t believe this. Almost kiss a colt one day and suddenly it’s all he can think about! And he has the nerve to tell me I’m the immature one? A smile came to her face as she rolled off the bed, let out a yawn and made her way towards the bathroom to get ready for the day. I feel a lot more awake, now. I guess waking up to his voice really is the best option. Seeing his cute little face isn’t so bad, either... Unlike her friends, she had come to terms with her feelings, and thus let the thought dance through her mind, humming as climbed into the shower and let the last remnants of drowsiness wash away.
Grateful that her mane required little by way of upkeep, due mostly to her curls being natural, Sweetie Belle dried off, gave it a quick combing and descended to find Spike and her father laughing like long time friends. It was actually the first night he had spent over there, but the more time they spent together, the easier it would be when it was time for him to ask the big question.
“Look at that, hunny. Sweetie Belle wakes up much easier to her friends, just like I told you,” Magnum called out with a grin.
“Maybe that’s because he doesn’t have a yell like a foghorn,” Sweetie snapped back, sitting down next to Spike.
“Now, Sweetie, show your father some respect,” Garden Wishes chided, smiling as she stacked some crepes on a plate and served her daughter. “You know your father just wants the best for our little diva.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna be famous someday, I know.”
“That’s a great thing, Sweetie Belle.” Spike watched the exchange with curiosity, wondering why exactly Sweetie Belle was responding so nonchalantly to such praise.
It always makes me feel really great when Twilight tells me I’ve done a good job, so why is Sweetie so aloof? It was a side of Sweetie he hadn’t seen before, and being without parents himself, he felt her behavior was slightly uncalled for. At the same time, he could tell by the way she was idly picking at her food that something was bothering her, and he was determined to help her out, regardless of what it is. He waited until Magnum was distracted talking to her mother before leaning over and grabbing her attention. “Psst!”
“What is it, Spike?”
“Is everything ok? You seem a little... I don’t know, tense or something.”
“Well, duh! We’re having breakfast with my parents, and I haven’t told them, you know... about us. I don’t think they’re ready to know.”
“Why not? It’s not like we’re actually doing anything about it.”
“Clearly, you don’t know my father. It’d be a problem with any colt, much less a... um...” Sweetie Belle sighed as Spike turned his eyes back to his plate, tracing paths through the syrup with his fork. “Spike, it’s not something I mind, you know that!” she insisted, glancing across to her parents who were seemingly oblivious to their hushed conversation.
“Yeah, I guess...” It’s not my fault I was born with scales. I don’t even like being a dragon! I mean, sure, I guess it’s kind of cool to be able to help Twilight send messages, but receiving them sure isn’t that great, and I’d gladly trade these claws for hooves... Speaking of hooves, what the hay is brushing my leg? It was exactly what it felt like, and Spike let his frustrations slip out with a sigh, meeting her apologetic gaze with a rueful smile and pressing his foot every so gently against her hind hoof.
“So, Sweetie Belle, how’re things with your friends?”
“Oh, um...” she started, yanking her hoof away and hoping to Celestia she wasn’t blushing. “They’re good. In fact, I made two new friends yesterday, and I think they’ll definitely liven things up.”
“Got your eye on any colts?” Wishes interjected, smiling pleasantly. “You could likely have anypony you wanted, you know. You’re sure to have a great career in singing, so don’t go getting any childish ideas like you have to stick with somepony in such a small town.”
“And don’t go thinking that just because we give you a lot of freedom you can go looking for one, either,” Magnum continued. “I’d want to meet anypony who thinks he’s good enough for my little star before he goes and gets his hopes up. I have yet to hear of any colts that fit the bill.”
“And what if I wanted to stick with somepony from this ‘small town,’ huh?” Sweetie Belle fired back, a frustrated defensiveness for Spike’s validity betraying her and tainting her voice. She cringed as her father adopted a frown and she mentally kicked herself for revealing too much, too soon.
“Then I would expect to meet this colt very soon. Understood?
“But I...”
“Understood?” His gaze was unwavering as he met Sweetie Belle’s glare before she caved, slumping back in her chair.
“Ugh... yes, dad.” The rest of breakfast was awkwardly quiet, and Spike wished had hadn’t eaten first if only so he’d have something to do.
Yikes, I never knew Sweetie Belle had such problems with her parents. No wonder she was so hesitant to speak to anypony about liking me. I bet Rarity is the only one who knows. Sweetie Belle finished quickly, ushering Spike outside where she set a brisk pace towards Scootaloo’s house. It was painfully obvious she was upset over the turn things had taken, and Spike unwitting poked a balloon filled to bursting. “You know, we promised to talk about our problems so they don’t build too much. If you need an ear, I’m here.”
“It’s ridiculous!” she shouted, going from sullen to full blown filly rage without warning. “They tell me about how proud they are that I’ll make something of myself, that I’m so responsible and I have all these freedoms, and then they slap a lid on it by telling me what I have to do with my life! Ever since I got my Cutie Mark, it has been singing this, famous that! Well, what about what I want, Spike? Huh? Does that matter? I like this town! The ponies are nice, I have great friends, and my parents treat it like it doesn’t mean anything at all!” She sat down hard, the weight of pent up frustration robbing her of strength.
“I never wanted to be famous... That was always Rarity’s thing! How can they say I have freedom if... they’re deciding my path for me? They’re even saving a ton of money to hire some renowned vocal trainer to give me lessons. And now they’re even trying to tell me I can’t... be with anypony in Ponyville?” Spike reached around to give her a hug, but she stayed his hoof, holding it back. “Don’t, Spike. If somepony saw and it got around to my parents...”
But I can’t just sit here and do nothing! A small puff of smoke escaped from his nostrils as frustration with his inability to assist mounted. Sweetie Belle was trapped in a spacious cage, and he was on the outside. This is no time to sit here and feel sorry for myself. “So... how long until your parents demand to meet me?”
“Two weeks at most... But it’s just gonna make it worse putting it off...” To her surprise, his features bent into a twisted grin as a slow, gut-wrenching laughter toppled the mighty dragon, sending him to the dust. “Spike... why?” she asked, heaving a sigh and wondering what he could possibly find to be funny.
“Oh, you gotta listen to this...” His devilish grin soon spread to Sweetie Belle, who couldn’t help but share a few mischievous chuckles at some poor pony’s expense.
“Spike, that’s genius! I mean, it won’t fix the problems, but it will at least give us some time. How’d you even think of something like that? I’m really impressed.”
“As long as it takes, remember?” Sweetie Belle’s laughter trailed off as she looked into eyes that burned with determination. “I’ll do whatever I can to make the wait easier. Sure, I’ll probably mess it up worse in a few days, but hey, I can try, right?” Magic wasn’t exactly Sweetie Belle’s forte, but Spike found himself bodily levitated alongside of her as she dashed through town, offering no explanation as she found the closest thing there was to a back alley, took a second glance to make sure there were no prying eyes, and wrapped Spike in a massive hug.
“So tell me ‘bout yerself, Rumble. Ah’m right curious to know about how you turned out so nice. You obviously don’t ‘ave any crazy older siblings threatenin’ dismemberment t’ any filly that crosses yer path,” Applebloom said with a giggle, looking out over the orchard from atop the roof of the barn, her hind legs dangling over the edge. Excitement over having patched things up with her newest friend, a stomach full of Apple family cooking, all wrapped within a picturesque setting combined to ease the filly’s mind and calm her heart. Rumble shared her soft laughter, sitting beside her and looking out over the farmland.
“Well, no, my brother Thunderlane seems a good deal calmer than your sister sounds,” he began with a chuckle, nervous though it was. “My parents are never really around much, so a lot of my learning comes from Thunderlane and his fillyfriends.”
“You mean fillyfriend, right?” Applebloom corrected cheerfully, though she grew skeptical as Rumble shook his head.
“Nope, I said fillyfriends on purpose.”
“Yer tellin’ me he’s datin’ around? Now, that just don’t make sense,” she murmured, shaking her head. “Ah don’t see how somepony like that can teach another pony t’ be kind an’ proper if he can’t make up ‘is mind.”
“It’s not like that, Applebloom.” Rumble managed to keep from sounding angry, but Applebloom could tell by his downcast eyes that she had prodded something sensitive. “My brother catches a lot of heat for his lifestyle, and I don’t expect you to understand it, but don’t you dare speak against him. He loves both his fillyfriends equally, and they’re happy together. He’s never so much as winked at another mare the two years he’s been with them, and they’ve... they’ve worked through a lot to stay together. They love each other... can’t that be enough?” Rumble had unintentionally raised his voice as he concluded, and it was the closest Applebloom had heard to him shouting.
If it’s this scary, just hearin’ him get a little loud, then how did it feel when ah was hollerin’ this mornin’? Ah gotta keep mahself in check. Ah don’t wanna do that again... “Ah’m sorry, Rumble, ah wasn’t meanin’ to sound like ah didn’t like ‘im. It ain’t how ah was raised t’ think, so it just seems funny is all. Ah’m sure yer brother is real nice.”
“It’s ok... I just get really worked up about it. I hate the way ponies will make fun of him when they don’t even take the time to see what he’s really like.”
“When ya say it that way, it makes me want t’ grab mah mallet an’ knock some sense into anypony who would say otherwise.”
“Really?”
“Really!”
“Serious?”
“O’ course!”
“But that’s...”
“What, am ah speakin’ fancy again?” Applebloom exclaimed, grinning widely. “Look, stickin’ up fer yer family is right by me, an’ anypony who could teach somepony t’ be so sweet, gentle, kind, an’... uh... ah mean...”
“I dunno about the gentle part... I did kind of break your fort.” Applebloom didn’t know if he was just choosing to ignore her blunder to give her time to recover, or if he really didn’t notice in the first place, but either way she was grateful for it, like everything else about Rumble. His cheeks adopted a faint pink tone as she graced him with a radiant smile, and his breath was again taken by the beauty of the filly seated beside him, her mane fluttering gently in the autumn breeze.
All right, this is gettin’ right romantic, an’ ah can’t ‘ave that. It’s too darn effective, an’ ah might just let somethin’ slip ah ain’t ready t’ think about just yet. What were we talkin’ about again? Oh, ah remember. “Yer right, what was ah thinkin’? Ah’m surprised this barn is still standin’!” she exclaimed, leaping to her hooves only to falter, flailing madly for a split second before careening over the edge. Rumble didn’t even have to think, he simply lunged forward, spread his wings, and caught the filly as she fell, flipping onto his back just in time to cushion her from the blow. Applebloom lay dazed for a moment, the expected pain not coming before she cracked open an eye, blinked a few times as the dust settle, then realized that the sensation to landing wasn’t like running into a wall, but rather being tossed into a soft, downy pillow.
“What ‘n... wait, Rumble? Goodness, are you ok?” she exclaimed, pulling back and helping him upright as he held up a hoof, coughing as he tried to coax the air back into his lungs. “Ah... ah got you hurt again...”
“Uh uh!” he wheezed, a pained grin spreading ear to ear. “Rule number... one: when a... filly is in trouble, you help them.”
“More o’ Thunderlane’s wisdom?”
“Uh huh! Ooph! Easy, Applebloom,” he managed as he yet again found filly hooves around his neck.
“Hold up there, you two. Settle down.” Just as suddenly as they had come, Applebloom’s hooves yanked away at the sound of her sister’s voice. She opened her mouth to speak when Applejack raised a hoof, her eyes brushing past Applebloom and on to Rumble, who, while visibly nervous, maintained eye contact and even covered his mouth when he coughed. “Am ah right that you’re Rumble?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Tyke’s got manners, just like she said. “Rumble, ah don’t like the idea much o’ any colt bein’ near mah sister...” He dropped his gaze, bowing his head and temporarily breaching etiquette by finishing the sentence.
“...and I broke the rules about keeping my hooves off, so now we can’t see each other, right?”
“Goodness, ah ain’t out t’ get you, Rumble. Ah saw you catch Applebloom when she fell.” Hope returned as he met Applejack’s gaze once more, and the mare sat down in front of him with a rueful grin. “Ah ain’t sayin’ that ah’m not worried, but you sure are givin’ me plenty o’ reason not to. Respect goes a long way in this family, an’ after seein’ that you’d put yerself on the line after only a single day, well, ah can’t think of a better friend fer mah sister.” She allowed them a few moments of celebration before raising a hoof. “All right now, just settle down. Rumble, this ain’t me givin’ you a free pass. Ah’d like fer you t’ come t’ dinner an’ meet the family in a couple o’ days.”
“Sis, ah thought you were gonna test ‘im, not scar ‘im fer life! Can’t we do somethin’ less painful?” Applebloom pleaded, to no avail.
“Those are my conditions. Until then, ah’d like it if you two kept yer distance. Now, ah know it ain’t what y’all wanted t’ hear,” she explained, raising a hoof as Applebloom opened her mouth to protest, “but that’s ‘ow it needs t’ be. Anythin’ t’ add, Rumble?”
“No, Miss Applejack. If that’s what needs to happen, I’ll try my best to follow the rules. You’re right, though. It’s not what I wanted to hear. I really like being with Applebloom.”
He means every word. Ain’t even a shred o’ concealment or half-truths. “Since you answered honestly, an’ well at that, ah suppose ah can allow you two t’ hang out together before dinner. On two conditions!” she exclaimed, quieting their jubilant outburst. “Ah wanna know when you hang out, an’ where yer goin’ t’ be. That fair?” Agreement was unanimous, and Applejack watched them dash off towards the school house, shaking her head as Big Macintosh trotted up beside her. “Ya hear that, brother? It’s time t’ set up a little gauntlet fer that colt.”
“Nnnope.”
“Oh, come on, you’re no fun,” she teased, chuckling as they turned back towards the house. “Lemme guess, we’ll be bad enough without the help?”
“Somepony stole mah teeth!” Applejack and Big Mac both stared at each other for a moment as Granny Smith woke the rest.
“Go ahead an’ say it, brother. She just answered my question, didn’t she?”
“Eeyup.”
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Here, have a mega-chapter! I'm feeling generous.
EDIT: Oh, and Aziraphael? I second Omi's response to your post.
I literally just finished the last chapter. i love you right now.
Mega chapter?! I guess I can work on my story later
If someone asks me for treasure, I'll point them to this fic.
This fic is pure gold!
I love how you wrote this! :)
Long and satisfying, and two chapters in less than an hour(or so).
Keep it up~ ;)
OH MY GOSH, PIPSQUEAK!!
“I’m covering my eyes so they stop looking at you! It’s not my fault. I’m a pirate; I’m always looking for pretty things!”
BEST PICK-UP LINE EVER!!!!!!!
Man, that boat is a goner.
it rejected her proposal with all the vehemence that a moldy skiff could, the starboard side detaching completely and falling flat
Oh god, the breakfast scene with Pipsqueak and Scootaloo, I'm not sure if it could possibly have been funnier.
And Rumble is off to a good start, can't wait to read the dinner scene.
I love how Applebloom was getting on to inanimate objects almost the entire time.
Also, two chapters within a few hours of each other? How did you know it was my birthday?
That scene with Scoots and Pip was one of the funniest thing i have seen in years
she recalled blinking once before she was seated in front of the colt with a hoof outstretched and ready to tussle his mane that she couldn’t help but notice looked quite soft.
I think it must run in the family......
img.ponibooru.org/_images/e9f464ca865d58146fa353910f840734/155253%20-%20brushie%20cloudchaser%20flitter%20macro%20rumble%20Thunderlane.png
“I’m covering my eyes so they stop looking at you! It’s not my fault. I’m a pirate; I’m always looking for pretty things!”
And this line right here earns Pipsqueak one extra-strength Swagaloo.
images3.wikia.nocookie.net/callofduty/images/1/17/Swagaloo.png
Ha ha, Scootaloo's embarrassed~! It's a very cute kind of embarrassment, though.
Well done with the connections between the younger ponies; I especially like Rumble and Applebloom.
"Ever since I got my Cutie Mark..."
i31.tinypic.com/2ywu9i0.jpg
Okay, SERIOUSLY! How much time has gone by in this fic?!
982764
There is a entire series. And time wise from the beginning of the series to this point... around 3 years or so. give or take a few months
974129
Wait. What?
1014413
I misread that really badly ignore it.
The whole "make a proper lady of her" thing gets my 21st century libertarian hackles up. My atavistic reaction is that such barbaric, retrograde ponced up elitist pomp and circumstance should have been murdered on the village square, a spear skewered through it's snobbish, sexist heart. Seeing someone trying to make a "proper lady" (see: 18th century vassal) out of a free spirit makes me yearn to hoist the colors, pull out the cutlass and slit a few throats.
What is one of the most central, vital tenets of the MLP:FIM franchise? Is it not "There are many ways to be a girl?" Seeing someone trying to hammer one of the CMC into a "proper lady", it's as if the very undergirding of the franchise were shrieking in protest at the strain. And since when has being a high culture lady been anything but a detriment in Equestria? Every single one of them has been a pompous, arrogant, elitist snob. Does Mrs. Grace never LOOK at what she's trying to turn her daughter into?
If they made a "proper lady" of out Scootaloo, I would mourn her like one of the dead.
Someone needs to get it through Grace's head that it isn't a sin to be a tomboy.... and I am going to be immensely disappointed if someone DOESN'T.
"I had a feeling today, Father..." "well don't, son..."
There are no words good enough to describe Pipsqueak's epicness in this chapter.
“Hmph.” Hope waved enthusiastically to Pipsqueak as her father left
Umm, Hope? Who's Hope?
1874445 Have you read the other stories?
It astonishes me how many people haven't read the preceding stories before going on ahead and reading this one...
I can't imagine how confused they must be while reading this.
Pipsqueak should be given some real treasure! The lad is like Blackbeard, Zorro and Gandalf cross the realms of space and time and became the ultimate being!
2785415 I haven't read the other stories, but for the most part its easy to get, and in those few moments of confusion you just assume that its not super important (so far nothing is) and keep reading.
I am beginning to suspect Pipsqueak has some mild form of Schizophrenia. Or maybe ADD. It could explain why he's living in the hospital, aside from the obvious. Ah well, reading on.
The parts with pipsqueak are the absolute best thing I could ever ask for