Spackle, also Spelled "Family"
Chapter 9: Spackle, also Spelled “Family”
Earth ponies, Scootaloo soon found, could not be judged by their physical size. While yes, the colt grinning like a maniac just five taunting hoof lengths away was breathing every bit as hard as she, he had managed to stay just enough ahead of her that whatever notion of payback for putting her in a position where a kiss even crossed her mind as a plausible option, and the depriving her of such a wondrous, disgusting, blessedly harrowing experience, was never able to come to term. Noting with faint amusement that the small trickle of drool from her mouth, currently too exhausted from shouting to close, wasn’t very ladylike, Scootaloo drove thoughts of returning home from her mind just a little longer and grinned, wiping her muzzle with the back of her hoof as she leered at Pipsqueak, meeting his taunting eyes with fierce determination. Sadly, her weakness to all things feminine presented her an easy target, even to somepony as disconnected as Pipsqueak.
“I know I can be a dreadful charmer, lass, but it ain’t proper t’ drool over yer captain.”
Oh ho, so he wants to play like that, does he? Well, I can win a battle of wits any day! And I don’t even have to use “Charm!” “Ahoy, what’s this drivel ye be spoutin’?” she replied in turn, narrowing her gaze and homing in on her target. “Don’t mistake me great thirst fer desire; it ain’t proper fer a gentlecolt t’ flatter himself.”
“Aye, indeed not! Where is the brigand who would call ‘imself a gentlecolt, eh?” Pipsqueak fired back, whirling around and frantically looking for the would-be intruder on their rather joyous battle of jibes. Seizing her opportunity, Scootaloo summoned her dark powers of lithe dexterity and crept forward towards the unsuspecting colt with ninja-like prowess. “Hah, the coward’s fled! Good thing, too. He’d have...”
“Gotcha!” Scootaloo cried, launching herself in a stunning flying tackle and again coming out on top as they tumbled to the dust. Neither embarrassed nor giving her any reason to gloat, Pipsqueak met the triumphant filly with a reproving look for a girl lacking in a basic grasp of fundamental common sense.
“...ye can’t be both a ninja and a pirate, lass. It violates the laws o’ nature.”
“Huh? Since when?” Scootaloo defended, clearly impervious to logic.
“Ye make me sad, turncoat,” Pipsqueak lamented, shaking his head sadly. “First ye reveal yer true form as an alluring temptress, the mythical Siren, an’ now yer tellin’ me ye ain’t a pirate, but a ninja? It’s almost too much fer this captain t’ bear...” A hoof over his eyes accented his comically serious tone and level-headed rationality to form ridiculous harmony perfectly fitting for the colt, but Scootaloo was not by this moved.
“I’ll be sure to inform the first mate of your tragic demise. Now, why can’t I be a ninja pirate?”
“Yer askin’ why somepony who sails into the high seas with a flag o’ war flyin’ high an’ cannons set t’ plunder can’t creep quietly in the shadows, stabbin’ ponies like an honorless cad an’ never makin’ a name fer himself? Yer right, they’re so similar, I got the two confused.”
“...you’re taking this really seriously, aren’t you?”
“Tis a captain’s job to know his crew, lass,” Pipsqueak explained, straight-faced and serious. “For example, since your feminine wiles have proven to be invaluable in combat, I may call upon them when confronted with a particularly vicious monster.”
“Sorry, that skill is event triggered only,” Scootaloo declared, trotting a short distance away and purposefully swishing her tail, easily flustering the hapless colt who continued to lay on his back and stare. Even if it had been the intended result, it still made Scootaloo a little uncomfortable, and the realization that she was less than presentable gave her an easy out while simultaneously supplying her with an excuse to scratch her girly itch.
“Captain, permission to head home and freshen up?” she asked, examining the dust on her forelegs and quite aware of the sweat still clinging to her coat. Sadly, pirates were not known for their hygiene.
“What’s this yer blatherin’ about? Nay, ye can wash when ye drop, deckhoof. There be adventure aplenty just waitin’ fer the takin’.”
“Siren’s are exempt to orders, remember?”
“But...” Pipsqueak started, falling silent again as Scootaloo continued in avid defense of cleanliness, a matter which she spoke of with surprising conviction, even to herself.
“Listen, ninja’s and ladies are different. If you want me at maximum battle capacity, then you have to let me wash up. You can’t expect me to charm anypony looking like this, right?”
“...I still think you’re pretty.”
“I... uh...” I totally walked right into that. Dang it, and he didn’t even say it with his pirate voice... Grrr, I really want to like hearing that, and I do, but why does it bother me? There’s got to be a reason...
“Just a little longer, Scootaloo?” Scootaloo peered back at the colt, shocked by his sudden lapse into seriousness and all too aware of the telltale signs of desperation contained within the statement. Whether he was attempting to use charm or some other method to control her, Scootaloo couldn’t say, but she wouldn’t be able to sleep if she simply left at that moment. For just a split moment, a side of Pipsqueak emerged that Scootaloo didn’t recognize nor understand, but given that he had pulled her back from the depths, she would be remiss if she backed out now for something as petty as a shower. Girliness could wait.
“Sure, Pipsqueak. I can stay for a bit...” Scootaloo replied gently, trotting over and stopping just short of the colt. Were you always this... adorable? You’re making it so hard not to hug you right now... C’mon, Scoots, time to cheer up a pirate. “All right, put on your game face, Captain! We’ve got adventures to make!”
“Now yer talkin’!” Pipsqueak cheered, springing to life and leaping in a circle. “What’s yer fancy, deckhoof? Zombies? Fort raid? Treasure Huntin’?” What game was played was of little consequence for one orange feathered filly, as regardless of what fictional disaster required their immediate attention was fine by her - as long as it brought smiles along with near dismemberment, Scootaloo would call the adventure a success. An hour soon passed, and on towards two as the sky began to shift towards an evening gold, and it was Scootaloo’s sudden cessation of movement and lifting of her gaze towards the sky that let Pipsqueak know that the day’s adventure was coming to an end.
I wonder... if she’s already starting to get bored. I guess it would make sense... “Yer free t’ go, deckhoof,” he quipped, roguish grin still intact even as he scrambled to figure out what to do with the rest of his day. “Thank ye fer... stickin’ around.”
“Thanks for yet another awesome adventure, and... thanks for putting up with me.” Having expected a rushed replied and a gust of wind as she took flight, her similarly sentimental response caught the colt off guard, even more so as she cantered over. Must resist... urge to hug... Wait a second... why? It was revolutionary. Try though she may, no solid reason as to why she was resisting the urge came to mind. Scootaloo looked at Pipsqueak. Pipsqueak stared at Scootaloo. Scootaloo shifted closer. Pipsqueak froze in place. Scootaloo awkwardly thrust out her hooves and wrapped them around Pipsqueak’s neck, only to suddenly realize exactly what that little nagging voice was; her sanity.
Ohmygoshohmygosh! What am I doing? No, no, no! No hugs! Hooves, come back right now! The only movement that either pony made was an imperceptible increase in heart rate and sudden internal combustion. What the hay, it’s just like before! My cheeks, my chest... everything feels funny and hot! As Scootaloo railed against her mind for tricking her in such away, her other thoughts took a back seat as she was forced to contemplate one simple question. I wonder... what he’s thinking right now?
...Sirens aren’t so bad. Finally managing to grab the reins, Scootaloo yanked her hooves away and stood staring in a daze at a colt wrapping her heart in knots without the slightest signs of effort.
What... what the hay is going on? I... I feel...
“Scootaloo?”
“Igottagoseeyoulaterbye!” Adrenaline pumped new life into her wings, sending an orange dart streaking across the sky and leaving one confused, infatuated colt pondering the intricacies of Siren-pirate relationships. Scootaloo, on the other hoof, was desperately trying to figure out a plausible explanation for her hooves and other things, namely her traitorous muzzle, acting of their own accord and generally causing more mischief than even she and Pipsqueak could cause in town. As she landed outside her house, still kicking and screaming against the thought that she, Scootaloo, would be so girly as to be overcome by something as mushy as liking somepony, she decided that maybe she should try talking her mother in the hopes of figuring something out.
“Hey, Scoots!” Storm called out, breaking her reverie as she closed the door behind her. “I just wanted to apol...”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Where’s mom? This is important!”
“Uh... I think she’s upstairs, why?” he replied, shrugging and glad to see she wasn’t too terribly upset; he’d only spent most of the afternoon worrying about it. He received no response as her shower was put off even further as she raced up the stairs, down the hall and stopped outside a door adorned by both her mother and father’s cutie marks.
“Mom?” she called out, knocking a few times. “Is it safe?”
“I suppose,” Grace called out groggily. Having been woken from her nap, the mare sat up as Scootaloo let herself in, slammed the door with a bang, and hopped onto the edge of the bed. A single glance of her daughter’s elevated state garnered the mother’s full attention as Scootaloo laid out some questions that needed answers.
“Ok, first things first. Do you know what Storm did to me today?” Scootaloo inquired, shooting a sullen glare towards the door. It was a sensitive subject, and thus Grace responded carefully.
“Before I answer, Scootaloo, I have a question for you. Did you know that your brother spent most all of the afternoon worried sick over how terrible he may have made you feel?” It wasn’t much of a stretch to assume the answer to be an emphatic “no, that never crossed my mind,” judging by the blank look of bewilderment with which Scootaloo stared straight ahead. Hearing her mother speak plainly, and with a gentleness devoid of her usual ever-present refinement and willingness to turn anything and everything into a playful jibe, impressed upon the filly the seriousness with which her mother regarded the event.
“Scootaloo, dear, this family has seen more than enough turmoil, and I’d rather not watch it be torn apart again,” Grace murmured, holding out her hooves and gratefully accepting Scootaloo into her embrace. “I believe I may be partly to blame for what happened today, as I thought that some gentle prodding from your brother may somehow serve to encourage your feminine interests, and for that I must apologize. Whether or not you decide to use the training I’ve been giving you is entirely up to you, and while I will admit that I don’t mind the idea of Storm pressing you to that end, what he did today was too intrusive for me to give my blessing.”
Oh... so he wasn’t just being an idiot. I guess that makes sense... “If I really wanted to stop all of the girly training and stuff, would you let me?” There was a brief silence that ended in a soft sigh as Grace nodded, pulling back and making eye contact so that Scootaloo wouldn’t be able to deny the truth in her words.
“Scootaloo, the main reason I have continued to press teaching you refinement is to equip you for experiences you may face later in life,” she explained calmly, ignoring her own desires on the subject. “There are many ways in which being able to carry yourself as a lady can give you the power to overcome the hardships of life. If I truly believed you hated the things I ask of you, then I would have stopped long ago. You’re strong, my dear child, and I should think that if you really wanted out, you’d have put your hoof down. Since you didn’t, however,” she continued with just the faintest hint of a smile, “I took it upon myself to... encourage such tendencies, shall we say. Do you really hate it?”
“N-no, not...” Scootaloo stammered, cringing as she was forced to come to terms with what was really going on inside. “It... scares me.” Of the reasons Grace suspected her daughter might be resisting her feminine side, fear hadn’t hardly crossed her mind.
“Do you... have any idea why?”
“No, I don’t!” Scootaloo shouted frantically, the sudden increase of volume from her own voice simultaneously cowing her into quietude as an uncontrollable shiver raced through her frame. “I’ve thought about it tons, but I just don’t... I don’t get it. I never had to think about it before when I just didn’t care about girly things, but then I started to, and I... it just...” And then, like being struck by lightning, her mind put the pieces together. Fright became numbing terror as she bolted from the room, nearly bowling Storm over as she raced down the stairs, up the hall and into her room, the closest thing she had to a safe haven, but not even the adrenaline could let her escape her own mind.
“Scootaloo? Hey, Scoots, what’s wrong? Talk to me!” Storm’s voice barely registered as she clasped both hooves to the side of her head, fighting tooth and hoof against the fear running rampant through her heart.
“I’m... I’m sorry, Storm... Not right now...” Her whispers unheard, Scootaloo sealed herself inside her bathroom, and as she switched on the flow of water and stepped into the soothing cascade, the voices both internal and external faded away as she let the water wash away the dirt and sweat, finding some measure of solace in the cleansing flood. Outside, Storm continued to plead with her for a chance to understand, but seconds turned to minutes, and it wasn’t until the heavy hoof of his father setting gently on the stallion’s shoulder that he lowered his voice and ceased pounding the door.
“I can’t... stand seeing her like this. This is my fault...” Storm murmured, shaken by her condition. A rift had been driven between them once, and he couldn’t bear to see it happen again, but even as distraught as he was, he recognized the wisdom in his father’s calm words.
“Indeed... Let her be for now, Storm. She will come to you when she’s ready.”
“What makes you so sure?” he replied, wanting to believe but unable to forget the fear in his sister’s eyes when she had ran into him.
“When everything fell apart, it was you she turned to,” Quakehoof recalled with a rueful smile. “You two have always had a tight bond, and there’s no way a single incident will undo that bond. After all, you are the one who taught her how to fly, and you may yet teach her to soar.” Thankful for his father’s encouragement and determined to make things right, Storm followed him out, still shaken but resolute that when the time came, he would be whatever his sister need him to be.
For somepony who Applebloom assumed only chased slow moving, puffy white tufts due to her name, she quickly learned that Cloudchaser was nimble, agile, and infuriatingly difficult to catch. On the other hoof, it was that same speed that made Applebloom the new target, and the predator became prey after just a few short minutes. Clearly, Flitter and Cloudchaser had found their synergy as sisters, because they very quickly worked with one accord to snatch her breath away and give it to the mirth monster with copious amounts of tickling. Even as Applebloom cried for it to stop, begging and pleading for a chance to breathe, she couldn’t really say she minded. It was like she’d already been accepted as family, the sense of welcome almost palpable and good natured antics bringing with them a sense of familiarity, along with a reassurance that maybe, just maybe, they would all mesh with Applejack and the rest far better than she had hoped. But for now, oxygen would be nice.
“Oh dear, I think she’s starting to turn blue,” Flitter murmured, withdrawing her hoof and giving Cloudchaser a pleading glance. Sure enough, her cheeks had grown tired of their oft rosy hue and were trying a different shade, and with one final belly rub, Cloudchaser withdrew her hoof, laughing as the filly immediately flopped to her side, clutching her ribs and gasping her air, squealing in between.
“Eh, I’ll let you off easy this time, Applebloom. I hope you learned a valuable little lesson?” Cloudchaser chortled, smiling warmly as the filly lasso’d her self-control and sought to calm herself enough to speak.
“Ah... ah think ah... learned that... breathin’ is... real nice!” she managed, threatening to dredge a fresh wave of giggles to the surface. “Ah shoulda known... better than... t’ mess with... with apple pie!” It was too much, seeing the confusion on the filly’s faces, and Applebloom couldn’t help but have one last round of cachinnation, any hopes of standing upright negated and odds of movement anytime soon quite low. Taking compassion on the filly, and seeing that it was Cloudchaser who had largely been blamed for their woeful breach of etiquette in disturbing the tender scene, Flitter scooped the bubbly filly up and flew back to Rumble’s room, setting Applebloom next to a confused, amused little colt just grateful to see her smiling.
“C’mon, Flitter,” Cloudchaser urged, rolling her eyes as Flitter peeked over the edge of the bed, watching the pair in eager anticipation of further adorableness. “Let’s leave those two alone for a bit. Who knows, maybe they’ll pick up where they left off and we’ll get a few pictures!” Needing no further urging, Flitter released a gleeful though dainty squeal and shot from the room, and after giving both of the younger ponies a roguish grin, Cloudchaser followed in suit, gently closing the door behind her and leaving the two sealed in darkness. Even with his head pounding as it was, Rumble couldn’t help but listen to the breathless music of raw happiness escaping Applebloom’s lips with wonder and relief.
“You know, I’m really happy that you’re getting along so well with my family,” Rumble began, his voice soft but carrying no weight of sadness. “I was a little worried, to be honest. Cloudchaser especially can be a bit much for some ponies...” At the cue for serious conversation, Applebloom put on the brakes and, after a few seconds of forced regulation of her breathing, she sat up, all smiles, and gave Rumble the most amusing “you dunderhead” look he’d seen to date, though he was sure he’d get one better in days to come.
“Are you kiddin’? Yer brother’s right nice and ‘is fillyfriends are about as welcoming as anypony could hope. Now, mah family, on the other hoof... well, we got a few crazies,” she asserted, not as a personal opinion but hard truth. “Mah Granny Smith, fer example. She’s as bright as she is hoppin’ mad. Her actions don’t make a lick o’ sense, an’ then when ya least expect it an’ need it most, ya get smacked up the head with some nugget o’ wisdom that leaves ya reelin’.”
“Quirky isn’t a bad thing, Applebloom.”
“Ah think decidin’ t’ make jam by dressin’ up like a bunny an’ singin’ to it is a little bit beyond quirky,” Applebloom fired back half-heartedly. “An’ don’t even get me started on mah cousin Braeburn. Ah swear, Pinkie Pie has a longer attention span than that one, an’ he can’t just take a hint. Darn near gotta deafin’ him just t’ get him lucid enough fer basic conversation!”
“Applebloom?” Eager for a change of subject, Applebloom gave Rumble her full attention as he treated her argument as he had her clubhouse roof. “You don’t need to worry about being embarrassed during dinner. Family is family. They all have issues, even mine, and you can either laugh with them, or, you know...”
“Hide yer face in shame while hopin’ fer the ground t’ swallow ya?” Rumble’s well meaning stare was accompanied by a slightly reproving frown, though it quickly reverted to a smile as Applebloom yielded, chuckling nervously. “Ah suppose... laughin’ is better. Ah can’t say ah’m not worried ‘bout how Applejack or the rest of mah family is gonna act, but ah’ll hope fer the best, ah guess.”
“Hey, look at that! You’re learning too.”
“Uh huh!” Applebloom shot back, leading to a short-lived staring match that neither of them won, as laughter tends to lead to the shutting of one’s eyes. There’s that feelin’ again. Right strange, how much it keeps poppin’ up. It’s kinda nice. Ah think ah’ll name it “love.” A young colt’s laughter trailed off as a filly’s own did the same. Oh, now that ain’t right. Why does it always lead t’ mah thoughts goin’ all mushy? Ah ain’t supposed t’ be thinkin’ ‘bout that word, even. Ah better get back t’ the farm before ah get all cuddly again. “Well, mah sister is probably gettin’ right antzy, what with how long ah’ve been gone. Ah’ll see ya tomorrow?”
“I don’t even get a few days to rest after being deemed worthy by the mallet angel?” Rumble chortled, raising a hoof to his head and grinning all the while.
“What, ya want more sleep? That’ll all you’ve done today!” Applebloom teased in mock disgust, grinning widely as she softened her tone. “Take whatever time ya need, Rumble. Ah’ll talk t’ mah sis and work somethin’ out. Fer now, just...”
“Just kiss already!” The shout from the far end of the room caused both young ponies to freeze, much to the invader’s deep disappointment.
“Cloudchaser, leave them be...” Flitter urged Cloudchaser, who was poking her head through the doorway with a camera poised and ready. Cloudchaser simply shook her head stubbornly and defended herself in turn.
“What? No! You don’t see something this sweet every day.”
“Um, actually, we do. Thunderlane is...” Flitter began before Cloudchaser cut her off, avidly shaking her head at her sister’s naivety.
“Too old to qualify. Need pictures,” she declared, pointing to her “trump card” and readying her shutter hoof.
“Fine, since Thunderlane’s affection isn’t good enough for you, I’ll just take all his sweetness for myself,” Flitter shot back, stomping a hoof lightly and giving her sister a warning glare.
“Bah, I’m not worried. We have rules about that,” Cloudchaser said dismissively, sparing a hoof to wave her away before her ears shot upright at her sister’s dastardly breach of love triangle etiquette, apparently not joking about sapping all Thunderlane’s strength for the evening.
“Thunderlane, I need comfort~!”
“Hey! That’s cheating!” Cloudchaser called after her, lowering the camera and peering down the hall. “You can’t invoke the comfort clause without reason!”
“You’re being stubborn!” the equally stubborn mare retorted from inside the livingroom, already poised over a bewildered Thunderlane who hadn’t quite caught up with what was happening or why.
“Cuteness must be captured on film! I’m just trying to do my job as Rumble’s sister; you’re being unreasonable!”
“Am not!”
“Thunderlane! Get your tail in here!” Rumble winced as his door was slammed shut, though silence was much too lofty an expectation as the bickering continued outside with terrible clarity. Not sure whether to chuckle nervously, laugh uproariously, or give the colt a comforting pat on the shoulder, Applebloom shook her head, strangely comforted by the antics. If this was something Rumble lived with every day, than he should at least be able to handle Granny Smith. The colt, now thoroughly embarrassed himself, kindly informed Applebloom that she should likely take her leave, and as she was about to ask why, her unspoken inquiry was answered quite clearly from the living room as Thunderlane’s voice rang out.
“Flitter, what are you... whoa, hey, not here! C’mon, we’ve talked about this! Cloudchaser, that’s not helping! Gah! To my room, now!”
“Storm?” The stallion’s attention was immediately focused on the voice, hesitant and quiet, as it sounded from the hallway. He had spent much of the last hour trying to think of some way to adequately prove to Scootaloo just how sorry he was, but now, as the spotlight awaited his entrance, he felt he might break into a cold sweat at any moment. A gentle, reproving blow to his shoulder helped him refocus, and he gave Rainbow Dash a grateful squeeze before releasing his hold and steeling himself for his fateful meeting. Finding her door cracked open, he took a deep breath, let it out slow, and gave the door a gentle shove, revealing a scene he was entirely unprepared to deal with.
“Y... uh... S... Scootaloo?” Hardly able to believe the filly seated atop the bed was indeed his sister, Storm had to take extra caution not to inadvertently swallow his own tongue in sheer amazement at Scootaloo’s transformation. Scootaloo’s mane wasn’t in its usual hastily brushed forward, nearly pompadour-esque fashion, but had been evenly parted and combed down either side of her neck, revealing the fruit of Scootaloo’s secret efforts to let it grow out. Her bangs had been swept to the left and held in place with a simple, yet elegant, hairpin that was adorned with a butterfly.
“How... how do I look?” Unable to tell if it was some kind of trick question, and definitely sure he wouldn’t be able to conjure a witty response to match, Storm took a few moments of silence to gather his thoughts before presenting his sister with the best encouragement he could think of.
“I’m sorry, I’m too busy being blown away to think clearly.”
“...you’re just saying that, aren’t you,” Scootaloo murmured, averting her gaze.
“No, really!” Storm instantly reassured her, trotting over and giving her a warm smile. “You look great, sis. Hay, if I wasn’t your brother, I’d...”
“That’s just creepy, Storm,” Scootaloo interjected, pulling a face and chancing a glance back at her hapless brother. Give me something, Storm. Some way to know that... that you’re safe. Despite his outward nonchalance, Storm was watching Scootaloo for signs, desperate to find some way to help. He could tell she wasn’t just throwing a fit; whatever was on her mind extended far beyond petty anger over his thoughtlessness. With nowhere else to start, he decided that he could at least say what he’d been meaning to since she left the house early that afternoon.
“Scootaloo, I’m... really sorry about today. I was just trying to mess with you a little, but I never thought you’d freak out as bad as you did.” But that’s not enough, is it, sis... “I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff, should have chased after you... I didn’t do what any older sibling should have, and I’m really sorry, but not just for that. I’ve been so caught up with Dash and the Wonderbolts that I... haven’t been spending near as much time with my sis as I should be.” The thought hadn’t even crossed Scootaloo’s mind, but it didn’t take long for her to realize it was true; with all the craziness going on, they had begun to drift apart. Storm sat waiting, ready to accept whatever punishment she deemed worthy, but what Scootaloo wanted wasn’t penance, but the safety that she used to find in her brother when she needed it the most.
“Get up here, you moron...” Scootaloo whispered, lifting a leaden hoof and letting it fall beside her. The spacious bed made room for one more as Storm climbed up next to Scootaloo, dwarfing the filly who took much more after her mother than father, and gently drew her to his chest. The light of the room faded as the black stallion sheltered her from the world and all it held with his massive wings, dark as the night, and Scootaloo felt a lump rising to her throat and pressure around her eyes as the stability and shelter she had longed for slowly drove back the fear enough for her to speak again.
“Do you... have any idea how hard I’ve tried to keep all the things you left laying around the room hidden?”
“No, I... I probably don’t,” Storm admitted with a sigh.
“I... didn’t know what to do at the thought of Pipsqueak finding out. I broke into the afternoon class and... ended up shouting at him in front of everypony. They all know, and they’ll talk, and... it’s over, Storm,” she whispered, screwing her eyes shut. “Pipsqueak wasn’t even fazed by it, and promised we’d be friends no matter what, but... there’s no way I’ll be able to show my face around town. I’ve been marked as the girliest filly in Ponyville...”
“I just don’t get it...” Storm murmured after a few seconds. “Scoots, you’re awesome no matter how you choose to dress, and creepy factor aside, you really do look beautiful when you try. Rainbow Dash is, without a doubt, the coolest pony in Equestria, and even she says you’re the greatest sister ever, so... why? Why do you try so hard to shut it out?” Scootaloo wished for all the world that she didn’t have an answer, that she could simply shrug it off and claim ignorance, but while she couldn’t explain how she’d come to the conclusion she did, she knew. To speak of it would be to lay herself bare, to drop all semblance of a facade and show herself in the weakness she despised. However, there was one pony who she trusted above all others, and that happened to be the one holding her close.
“At first...” she began, coughing a little as her voice cracked. “At first I just wanted to be cool, but then I started liking girly stuff too. It... scared me, Storm. It still does...”
That doesn’t make any sense. How could wanting to be girly...
“I... don’t want to be... be trapped like mom was...” Storm involuntarily squeezed tighter as his own walls threatened to be breached, her weak, hollow words cutting deep. Her need to be cool, strong, and independent, her aversion to all things girly on account of appearing weak: it all made sense. “I’m not that strong, Storm. I couldn’t... possibly handle what mom had to...”
“That’s enough!” Storm’s shout echoed around the room as buried feelings of rage embedded nearly as deep as his own genes roared to life at the atrocities committed by their adoptive “father,” Proud Skies. Controlling couldn’t even begin to scratch the surface in describing the pony, who had employed everything from physical abuse to assassination to keep Grace firmly tucked under his hoof; he had even planned to erase their newest sister, Hope, from existence before she was able to take her first breath. All these things had been accomplished in secret, but Storm could never forget seeing Scootaloo return to Ponyville after finding out the truth about how Proud Skies really felt about the “mongrel” that thought she was his daughter. She was just eight years old when her perception of reality had shattered, and when it felt like there was nopony to trust, she had turned to Storm, and did the same now, burying her muzzle into his chest.
“That’s enough...” he repeated in a choked whisper, shaking despite best efforts and unable to stop a trickle from seeping from his eyes. The memory of her return home, so broken that she could barely speak, played back in his mind, pulling him further towards the treacherous mire of hatred, and it was his sister’s shaking form that rallied his strength, returning his focus to where it should have been for quite some time; a sister in desperate need of her older brother. “It’s not going to happen.” Where once venom would have bled into his words from the rage still boiling under the surface, he focused everything on reaching out to Scootaloo, letting his words be not poison, but salve. “I won’t let it. No matter what, it’s not... it’s not going to happen...”
“Can you... please promise me?” Clinging to every word, Scootaloo let the rivers streaming down her cheeks widen as fear turned to relief, and despair for never being able to go back to the way things were was transformed into hope for the future as Storm left her with no doubt that she would always be taken care of.
“Even if it costs me my wings, and my life, I will never let you suffer the mom had to, Scootaloo. Not even Rainbow Dash could stop me, and as long as I am breathing, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. That’s my promise, Scootaloo, and I’ll... I’ll never betray it.” Reassurance cascaded like a flood upon the filly, the sheer conviction and raw honesty in her brother’s voice undeniable, and even as she felt a few of his tears drip into her mane, she couldn’t have felt safer than there in her brother’s hooves. “Don’t... don’t ever forget that no matter what I say, or how much of a freaking dunce I am sometimes, I... I’ll always love you, sis.”
“I love you too, Storm...” Tears ran their course, and calm was left in their wake. Scootaloo pried her face from Storm’s chest and looked around her room with bleary eyes, the faintest hint of a smile edging in around the corners of her mouth. “It’s... pretty girly to wear socks, isn’t it...”
“Horribly,” Storm murmured, chuckling a little and grateful for the change of subject. “Still, I have to say that you could probably have a lot of fun teasing Pipsqueak if you wore your mane like this more often. It’s pretty cute.”
“Are you kidding?” Scootaloo shot back feebly, grinning despite herself. “I wouldn't be able to have any fun playing with him if all he did was stare at me...”
“There’s that confidence I love to see in my little sis,” Storm murmured, folding his wings and pulling away. “I know it can be painful sometimes, having to deal with all of us, but what do you say you take a break from pirates or whatever and spend some time at home? It’s been awhile since we did something altogether as a family.”
“That sounds... kinda fun, actually,” Scootaloo quipped, her enthusiasm building as the weight of living a double life was, for a time, lifted from her shoulders. Having had her fill of sentimental sibling mushiness and reassured that no matter what happened she’d have a place to take refuge, Scootaloo leapt from the bed and raced out to the living room, rolling her eyes as praise for her new style rolled in from all ponies present, even while she secretly treasured every word. It wasn’t something she could see herself doing every day, but for a time, in a place she felt safe, one tomcolt played the lady.
Sweetie Belle felt just a hair shy of soul-crushing misery at having unwittingly knocked Spike unconscious while simultaneously doing a little interior remodeling of the library’s base floor: the newly formed cracks in the table were definitely avant garde. Her flying tackle kiss had gone great, right up until the rather stubborn and immovable table in the center of the library’s main floor proved it had no sense of romance, as it did not kindly step aside so that she could experience lip-locked wonder, but rather chose to reward her display of affection with possible brain damage to her significant other as he fell back. Oh, had she thrown a fit, but after a few gentle words from Twilight, she had resolved to sit beside the dragon until he awoke, and at some point must have fallen asleep beside him.
As her heart moved from the slow, rhythmic beats of sleep to jazz style spontaneity upon fully coming awake, Sweetie Belle felt little strength to do anything but stare at Spike’s face, which was just a tongue length away. The fact that she used such a measurement system, even in her head, sent all kinds of warning sirens off for the filly, but the music of a heart sent aflutter was at least loud enough to counter them, if not drown out the drone completely. No, as a million thoughts, desires, and emotions great and small flooded through a mind not yet ready to cope with maximum neural input, she took a deep breath, held it, and let it go with her best wishes, glancing across at the purple arms holding her and allowing herself a few moments of selfish indulgence.
He’s so sweet, even in sleep. I was... wasn’t! Wasn’t planning on this, but I... think I kinda maybe sorta hoped it would. If I’m asleep, I can’t be held responsible for it, right? Free pass! Well, not really free, per se... Not for you, huh Spike? Her enthusiasm calmed a little as she realized that a price had been paid for her over-zealous tackle of sheer elation, but as she slowly drew a hoof to her cheeks, she knew that a giant heaping dose of lovey dovey mushiness had set in to take its place, flooding the filly with warmth and again bringing her original intentions back to mind. An action as timeless as love itself, a simple gesture that could contain more meaning than a hundred pages of poetry: a glorious, heartfelt first kiss. With the last rays of golden light filtering in and nopony to stop her, Sweetie Belle moved her hoof from her cheeks to his, closed her eyes, and slowly began edging closer, making no attempts to restrain the anticipation that threatened spontaneous combustion in an explosion of rainbows, butterflies, and everything else love was made of.
“Spike...” she whispered, shuddering at the name. Sweetie Belle couldn’t remember a single time when the setting felt so perfect, even with her special somepony fast asleep, but she also couldn’t remember feeling so indebted, so grateful, so absolutely head over hooves in heartfelt liking him a lot. Seeing that measuring in hoof lengths was much too great a distance for the delicate nature of her situation, her mind continued with its new system as she let the world melt away, enraptured in blissful serenity with the only one for her. Half a tongue length... quarter tongue length... Sweetie Belle was forced to pause as the raw excitement threatened to overwhelm her as her lips parted ever so slightly, ready to bestow the greatest thanks a filly her age was allowed to give. This is your thanks, Spike. Only for you... A slam, a shout, and the swift approach of hooves were all it took to shatter a crystalline moment of youthful, innocent bliss.
“Spike~! Letter time, letter time, letter time~!” Twilight all but bypassed the staircase entirely as she bounded up to the second floor, so great was her excitement, though as she stopped and sensed, rather than physically saw, the fragments of romance diffused throughout the air, the heartbroken wail of a filly now four times deprived of a special moment completed what was lacking in Twilight’s impromptu wakeup call. It didn’t matter to Sweetie Belle how mature or not she appeared, or the fact that she quickly garnered a small audience including one highly curious stallion with the most massive mane she’d ever seen, nor what kind of rumors such a piercing howl of dismay could spark when blasting through the quieting streets as ponies closed up for the day.
While Sweetie Belle’s dramatic cries weren’t anywhere close to being as terribly grating as Rarity’s were, it still wasn’t the most pleasant thing for a dragon who had remodeled a table with his skull just hours before to wake up to, and thus he shirked his duty as being the bearer of comfort and buried his head under a pillow, groaning as the lancing pains reminded him that cranial carpentry wasn’t a field he wished to dabble in again.
“Uh... bad timing?” Twilight offered with a sheepish smile as she looked first at Spike and then to Sweetie Belle, lying on her back with all four hooves in the air and weeping buckets.
“B-bad timing?” Sweetie Belle sputtered, calming the torrent for a moment so she could rant coherently. “That was worse than bad! I was one sixty-fourth of a tongue length from kissing Spike, and you had to... to come and... waaaah~!”
“That close? Twilight, you’re absolutely heartless...” Cerulean murmured, shaking his head in mock disapproval. Sweetie Belle eased up on the waterworks as the stallion she’d heard tell of but never formally met cautiously edged over and stood staring at her with eyes full of concern, his multi-hued green mane falling down all around and almost reaching to the floor.
“That doesn’t sound like happy crying. Does something hurt?” the jade stallion, in honest innocence and an improper understanding of just how distraught the filly was, asked with an encouraging smile.
“No, it’s not happy crying! This is definitely not happy crying!” Sweetie Belle howled, spooking the skittish stallion who immediately cowered behind Cerulean.
“Bad Sweebelle! No scare Whisper!” Dawn commanded, leaping down from her perch atop Twilight’s back and marching over to the side of the bed.
“How the hay am I supposed to scare a whisper?” she shot back, arguing with the foal, nearly a year old, with about the same level of maturity.
“Ugh, well, your shouts have driven most of them away, I’m sure,” Spike finally chimed in, sitting up with a groan. “That green pony’s name is Whisper. He’s Cerulean’s brother. You know, the pony that Fluttershy found in the forest?”
“...oh.” Sweetie Belle wiped her eyes and sat up, ready to give a calm oration on the unfairness of life that Spike clearly had little appreciation for, but as claw rose to the lump at the base of his head, she held her silence as he made eye contact. Neither angry nor accusing, his word were what they were.
“I really have no idea what’s going on, but could you maybe stop screaming? My head... really hurts.” Upon seeing the filly’s ears fall flat, Cerulean placed a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder and gave a gentle tug.
“The letter to Celestia can wait. Let’s give these two some space, alright? C’mon, Whisper. There’s a lot you need to know still.”
“Um... ok,” he replied, casting a nervous eye at Sweetie Belle, fearing she might burst into tears at any moment. As the group descended, Sweetie Belle struggled to wrench back her self-control, and finding it, she returned her full attention to Spike, who had laid back down and was currently shielding his eyes from the evening rays.
“So... how about them tables, huh?” Spike began with a half hearted chuckle, lifting his claw just enough to look up at a filly who clearly found the situation far less amusing than he. “Oh, come on. Do I look angry?”
“It’s not about that, Spike. I know you’re not...” she replied, her tone soft enough to almost be taken as vulnerable. In fact, as seconds passed, Spike became convinced it was, and gaver her his full attention, ready to listen. “I was... so close to kissing you.”
“Wha... really?” Spike managed, now fully awake and shifting from clueless to excited, and shortly after to crestfallen as he realized the statement was past tense. “But... when, just now? While I was asleep?”
“Yeah, but...”
“And then Twilight...” Sweetie Belle nodded once, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them to find the spot Spike had been sitting was now abandoned.
What the... Spike? Where’d you... Her unspoken inquiry was soon answer as a bestial howl of rage, more articulate and harrowing than her infantile hissy fit had been, filled the whole of Ponyville. In a way, it was touching, really, seeing how important the first kiss truly was to Spike, and even as she winced at the volume, she smiled at the sentiment, eagerly awaiting her next chance. Spike, however, was not present to sense all this, as he was too busy letting Ponyville know that life just wasn’t fair with both fists held to the skies.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Worse than the patch job on the clubhouse roof, and perhaps even worse than the derelict hunk of waterlogged wood that used to, at one point, resemble a proper vessel, was Applebloom’s state of mind as she trotted inside, skipped the dinner table completely, and sat on her bed in deep contemplation. She was neither upset nor excitable, nor was she grumpy in the slightest; how could she be? Rumble was about the sweetest thing since Zap Apple jam, and he had shown it in both word and deed, but it was the latter that rendered the filly hopelessly flustered. If she were asked if the colt’s innocently physical way of dealing with things bothered her, she could have looked even Applejack in the eye and rightly answered both yes and no.
“Wait a second, that’s it!” she exclaimed, hopping from her bed and throwing open the door. “Ah’ll just talk t’ Applejack, an’ between the two o’ us, we’ll get things figured out faster than squeezin’ grape juice.” This confidence extended right up until the point where she actually found herself outside her sister’s pad that she shared with Silver, still on the farm grounds but far enough away that any evasive mad scramble back towards home should her sister be less than receptive to her inquiries were sure to be routed. Apple pie, just remember, we’re apple pie... Knocking thrice, she took a step back and swallowed hard as she prepared to engage in a feat Daring Do would find laudable; discussing colts with Applejack.
“Hey there, Applebloom,” Applejack quipped, answering the knocks and standing aside. “Come on in, ah was just about t’ have a bite o’ supper.”
“...don’t smash the pie, sis!” Applebloom blurted out, garnering nothing but confusion from her elder sibling as the filly all but begged for her life with the look she was getting.
“Uh... what now, sugarcube?” While Applejack had, technically, invited Applebloom inside, she hadn’t expected the filly to splay out on her floor and beg for understanding that, if she had even the slightest clue what her sisters was talking about, she might have been willing to give. “Applebloom, yer talkin’ too fast an’ ah ain’t go the faintest idea what you’re tryin’ t’ say. Straighten up an’ talk proper.”
“Ah said ah’m sorry fer gettin’ frisky with Rumble!” she shouted, loudly and quite clearly. Applejack sat stunned for a moment as her protective side and lingering aversion to colts painted vivid pictures in her mind that shouldn’t ever be. “It’s not like ah was tryin’ to, but then he moved closer, an’ ah felt like ah was on fire, an’ then... then it just happened!” There was a room shaking thud as Applejack sat down hard, her wide eyes staring dead ahead as her mind had a merry meltdown. Applebloom, unaware that she hadn’t explicitly spelled out what exactly had happened, continued to torment her sister with easily misconstrued words of the purest kind.
“Ah thought about stoppin’, ah really did, but it just felt right. He was really gentle, an’... ah don’t know how else t’ say it, sis! It just felt right! It don’t bother me none, but it bothers me that it don’t bother me, an’ now ah’m all confused an’ don’t know what t’ do!”
“Celestia have mercy! Applebloom, you... he... ah can’t handle this!” Applejack wailed, bowing her head and covering her face with both hooves. “Ah’m sorry, pa! An’ you too, ma! Ah tried, ah swear ah did! Ah’m a terrible daughter, an’ now... now yer gonna ‘ave two grand babies!”
“Uh, sis?”
“Ah listened t’ Big Mac instead o’ keepin’ an’ eye on ‘em like ah thought ah should! Ah thought ah could trust ‘im... he’s mah older brother, ain’t he? Wisdom’s supposed t’ come with age! Oh, Luna, where’d ah go wrong?”
“Sis!”
“Ah promise ah won’t let it happen again, pa! That’s it, where mah rope? We’ll see how frisky she can be tied to a...”
“Applejack!!!” A sound not unlike her sister’s voice penetrated the thick wall of abject horror clouding the mare’s mind, and she paused, staring at the filly who couldn’t figure out why the hay Applejack was freaking out so bad over a little cuddle time. “What ‘n tarnation has gotten into you? Ah came t’ you ‘cause ah needed advice, not because ah wanted you t’ blow a gasket. Why’re you so upset, anyhow?”
“Why... you...” Applejack sputtered, unable to believe her ears. “Not two days later, an’ yer already rollin’ in the hay with some colt that...”
“Rollin’ in what?” Applebloom yelled, mortally offended that Applejack would even mention such taboo. “Ah can’t believe you’d think such a thing of me, Applejack! That... that really hurts...” Despite the sirens still blaring in Applejack’s ears, her sister’s lapse into silence was yet louder, and doing her best to reset the situation, Applejack slowly approached and sat down in front of her sister, regulating her voice and trying not to pay any heed to the myriad of assumptions plaguing her mind.
“Ah’m sorry fer losin’ it back there, Applebloom. Ah may have gotten ahead o’ mahself. Let’s try this again; what happened?” Rather than answer verbally, Applebloom reached up to her bow and pulled out one of the pictures Cloudchaser had taken, slowly sliding it over so Applejack could see. The mare took a glance at the image, peered back at Applebloom who sat awaiting her sister’s appraisal in silence, and then back at image of a colt tenderly holding her little sister. She must have been right worried comin’ over here, judgin’ by the way she’s shakin’. Ah ain’t comfortable with this, not so soon, but ah'm sure she already knows that. “You... look pretty happy here, Applebloom.”
“Ah... ah was.” Seconds crept past as Applejack waited for further explanation, but while she could be overprotective and overbearing at times, that wasn’t what Applebloom needed. Applebloom glanced up as warmth of a different kind encompassed her.
“Ah know you’re probably right frightened o’ talkin’ t’ me, given how ah’ve acted with this whole thing, an’ ah gotta say ah don’t blame ya,” Applejack soothed, speaking softly. “It means a lot t’ me that ya came, an’ you have mah word that ah won’t lose mah mind like ah did a little while ago. So whatever is on yer mind, feel free t’ share. Ah’ll do mah best t’ help.”
“Yer the best flaky pastry ever, sis...” Applebloom murmured, giving her a gentle squeeze before pulling away and taking a deep breath. “Sis, ah’m confused. Ah know there need t’ be boundaries an’ the like, an’ that don’t bother me none, but ah don’t know where t’ draw the line! Ah mean, just look at that,” she said, pointing towards the picture lying a short distance away. “None o’ my friends are doin’ that! Well, maybe Sweetie Belle and Spike have, ah don’t know...”
“They’ve known each other a bit longer, Applebloom,” Applejack replied, covering her mouth with a hoof as she heard the reproving tone that had filtered in. Applebloom paid it no heed, but simply nodded, pulling away and beginning to pace as she explained herself.
“Ah know, an’ that’s exactly what ah’m talkin’ about! Ah mean, if it felt wrong, then it’d be easy t’ put mah hoof down and say ‘that’s enough.’ But, sis, he didn’t mean anythin’ pervy by it, ah know he didn’t! He was just bein’ nice, but ah feel like it should bug me, and it doesn’t, but it drives me crazy that it doesn’t ‘cause ah feel like it should! An’ now mah head is all messed up, an’... an’ ah just... what should ah do, sis?” Applejack had, in that moment, been given an opportunity to forestall any and all displays of physical affection between her sister and anypony else.
All it would take is a few choice words, an’ she’d stay away from all o’ that. But that’s... not somethin’ ah would want taken away. “Heh, it seems ah’ve given some o’ my worries t’ you...” Applejack murmured, chuckling softly and shooting her sister an apologetic smile. “Ah don’t think ah’ve ever mentioned this t’ you, as ah never really had cause to, but d’ you know what one o’ mah favorite things was when ah was datin’ Silver?”
“Cider?”
“Well, yes, he does brew a fine cup o’ booze, t’ be sure,” Applejack laughed, beckoning her sister over with a wave. Donning a warming smile, she drew the picture over and set it before Applebloom, letting her love for her little sister guide her words rather than the worries that were born not of anything Applebloom had done, but her own past experiences. “No, what ah loved most was just bein’ held tight, just like you are here. Applebloom, there ain’t anythin’ wrong with showin’ somepony you care with hooves instead o’ words. If this is all that happened, then there’s no shame in that.”
“Really?” Applebloom pressed, looking up at her sister with eyes full of hope and relief that she hadn’t let her sister down.
“Ah make a habit o’ not tellin’ lies, little filly,” Applejack chuckled, patting her head and looking down at the photo. “Yer right, you are young and there are things that are definitely not ok, an’ make no mistake, ah’ll whip yer hide if ya get anywhere near ‘em,” Applejack warned, her tone leaving no question in her sister’s mind that she meant what she said. “But this... well, ah suppose ah can live with this.”
“You’re not angry none?”
“Angry? Not even a smidgen, sugarcube. A tad hesitant, maybe a little worried, but ah ain’t mad, Applebloom. Ah just want t’ make sure you’re safe.”
Huh. That certainly could have gone a whole lot worse. Ah think... ah wanna take things just a little slower, with cuddles saved fer special occasions. Oh, an’ ah should probably admit t’ likin’ him eventually... “Thanks fer talkin’ so nice t’ me, sis. Ah really needed somepony t’ listen, an’ ah wanted it t’ be you. Ah was right scared, but now, ah’m sure you could handle anythin’!”
“Well, ah don’t know ‘bout that,” Applejack warned, grinning back. Applebloom couldn’t have understood just how great a concession had been made, nor how much the thought of Applebloom being physical in any way worried Applejack, but seeing the relief in the filly’s eyes and the trust that had been restored and grown was reward enough to make it worth it. Waving her sister off as she left, Applejack pulled the picture she’d left back over, glared at it and had a little rant of her own.
“Why’d ah have t’ wait so long t’ find somepony t’ hold me like that? It just ain’t fair! What ah wouldn’t give fer a good cup o’ cider right now... maybe a little wine... or moonshine! Just a glass o’ that an’... ah can’t do this to mahself! Hey!” she shouted, tapping her swollen stomach and rousing the foal within. “Hurry up an’ come t’ term, would ya? Yer ma wants t’ get bamboozled!” A tiny buck signaled compliance, and Applejack resigned herself to a few more months of abstinence with a sigh and a glass of apple juice.
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I love you for updating and all, but right before work? why must you tease me?!
lol jus playin, ill probly read at work anyway 
fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2011/170/5/4/spike_nooo_by_physicallypossible-d3jcqgv.jpg
Wonderful work, gently playing the heartstrings of all involved.
I especially find Applejack's overreaction humourous. Just out of curiosity, how clear is Applebloom on the "birds and the bees"?
that sucks
1182642 Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo know pretty much everything, because in chapter 19 of
The Risks of Braving The Storm, Scootaloo wanted to know why Storm and Dash kept extending
their wings when kissing, and they ended up tickling Fluttershy till she told them. She got greatly
disturbed by what she found out.
I recommend reading the whole series, as some of the characters or events might not make sense.
As per usual, Spike and Sweetie don't get their kiss......such a shame.
Was expecting AJ's reaction to be like that, not sure how Big Mac is going to!!!
Edit: And as per usual, Cerulean1313 you've made the featured list!!!
I'm starting to think that the kiss is going to happen in the very last chapter of this.
Pip is best colt, so much sheer character the way he is being written.
dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/sillyfilly_Sweetie_Belle.png
YAY UPDATE!!!
also this chapter was full of
It amuses me that the only relationship out of the four (maybe five) that you're building that doesn't have an incoming train wreck is Sweetie Belle and Spike. Things are gonna get even more entertaining real soon.
I'm ready for the crazy shenanigans that will happen when Rumble's odd family(His parents named him after one of Soundwave's minicons and he lives with his polygamist brother and two his girlfriends ) meets Applebloom's crazy family. I love Flitter and Cloudchaser in this chapter, they are so adorable and fun. I like that Thunderlane has to be the voice of reason.
1182508
Couldn't find one of Spike and Sweetie, so next best one:
s3.roosterteeth.com/images/TBSWK4f94123442bc8.jpg
... Bamboozled?
"Clearly, Flitter and Cloudchaser had found their synergy as sisters, because they very quickly worked with one accord to snatch her breath away and give it to the mirth monster with copious amounts of tickling."
Have I ever mentioned how much I love the way you turn a phrase?
1185100
Pissed, gazeboed, hammered, plastered etc. Applejack can't do this while pregnant because alcohol affects foetal growth.
"I will never let you suffer the mom had to, Scootaloo" - proof that even gods make mistakes
Late at night notice that there is new chapter. Got lucky because it helped me with my story
There was that cliffhanger in the last chapter, and I couldn't wait to see what happens. So it starts off with Pip and Scootaloo. I was a bit miffed, but I think, "Fine, I'll just see what happens when I get to the next Sweetie/Spike part"
3 parts later...
Sweetie Belle felt just a hair shy of soul-crushing misery at having unwittingly knocked Spike unconscious while simultaneously doing a little interior remodeling of the library’s base floor
i0.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/000/207/469/35600%20-%20artist%253Amixermike622%20computer%20flip_the_table%20rage%20twilight_sparkle.png
Heh, actually I had a feeling that would happen. You don't seem to usually cut off on those parts unless something like that happens. Makes one wonder when they actually will kiss...
So much daaaw
and lulz
The part about Scootaloo's parents... just wow. Very potent. Well done.
As for the rest, downright hilarious. Absolutely loving this.
Please keep writing, I'll keep reading!
After that chapter I... Am... Dead, my heart emploded, any future return to manliness is overridden. I'm gonna go blast white chapel and press weights for the next 2 hours to try and gain back an edge but I don't think it's gonna help at all. (This fic is to damn good!)
OK did any one else see that last chapter was set up differently???
BULLSHIT
majhost.com/gallery/HahliHusky/blogstuff/strangejournal/pirates_are_ninjas.jpg
http://www.badassoftheweek.com/jubei.html
False.
lpmn.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Ninja__Pirate__Awesome.jpg
I think I saw a star wars Darth Vader reference with spike and missing the first kiss again