• Published 20th Mar 2017
  • 6,691 Views, 517 Comments

No Worse Want - RaylanKrios



There is no worse want than the want of a warm hearth

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Than that of a Warm Hearth

Applejack tipped her hat. “Sorry Scootaloo, Apple Bloom’s got chores today. Harvest season’s ridin’ up on us.”

“Oh, do you need any help?” Scootaloo tried to play it cool. A day working at the apple farm meant lunch, dinner, a few bits and some time with one of her best friends.

“Mighty kind of ya, but we got things covered today. Tell ya what though, when we’re finished I’ll see her your way.”

Scootaloo forced a smile despite having been denied a chance for some free food and a paycheck. “Thanks, Applejack. Maybe I’ll go see if Sweetie can come play. It’s not like she has any farm chores.”

“She sure don’t,” Applejack said with a chuckle as Scootaloo sped away on her scooter.

That's a no from everypony I've asked today—zero out of five, she thought glumly. A quick check of her coin purse confirmed what she already knew; she could afford to buy lunch or dinner, but not both. Her stomach groaned in protest. If I eat now I don’t know when I’m going to get another chance. A cold wind across her muzzle provided the perfect distraction.

If I can’t work, maybe I can fix that stupid heater! A flutter of her wings and a firm kick off the ground and she was on her way to library.


The Ponyville library was like no other library in Equestria. It lived in a giant crystal tree, and its head librarian was also a princess who was determined to make her it a repository of all the knowledge in Equestria—second only to the Canterlot Archive. Celestia had rebuffed a request to house sections of the historical archive in Ponyville, the rest of the library was on par with the famed Canterlot University branch in every way.

Still, the home maintenance and electrical engineering sections were well stocked, and finding them was easy. Scootaloo had been there before, for her and her friends’ lessons with the princess—what they called their Twilight Time. The hard part was finding a book that could actually help her. After a few hours she knew that space heaters worked by converting electrical energy to heat via electrical resistance, and they tended to stop working because circuits overloaded. She also learned that parts for some of the larger units—small ones like hers were apparently meant to be thrown away if they broke—cost over ten bits, plus more for a soldering iron.

Scootaloo groaned and smacked her borrowed copy of Getting Gadgets Going shut, then drooped her ears and mouthed a quick “sorry” to a nearby stallion. He chuffed in annoyance, but went back to his book, and Scootaloo breathed a sigh of relief. Helpful or not, the library was warm. She found herself not wanting to leave, not even to ease her hunger or find her sleeping spot.

She was tired though, and the oversized lounge chairs tucked away in a corner of the reading room looked so inviting. Princess Twilight wouldn’t have put them out if she didn’t want ponies to use them, right? She wheeled her scooter over, and settled into the chair farthest from the door; it was even more comfortable than it looked, soft and plush and nothing at all like stacked cardboard. It was all Scootaloo could do to not fall asleep instantly. She tucked her legs under her, curled her tail around her barrel, and closed her eyes. I'm just gonna rest for a moment, she resolved.


“She’s pretty out of it, Twi.”

“I know Spike, but we need to wake her up.”

Spike gently jogged the sleeping filly’s elbow. “Scootaloo,” he whispered. When that didn’t work he tried again, louder. Scootaloo fluttered her eyes, then bolted upright as soon as she realized where she was.

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I was just resting, honest,” she said, glancing furtively in every direction.

Spike brushed away the apology with a breezy wave of his claw. “It’s cool. We didn’t even know you were here.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said softly. The clock on the wall told her it was six in the evening, way later then she meant to stay. “I need to be getting home anyway.” Scootaloo grabbed her saddlebag and her scooter and trudged to the front door, Spike and Twilight following closely behind her.

As soon as Scootaloo opened the door she was hit with an icy blast of wind and snow to the muzzle. Twilight ushered her back inside while Spike wrestled the door shut. “Whoa!” he grunted. “The weather team really didn’t hold back on this one.”

Twilight sighed and shook her head. “Leave it to Rainbow Dash to ignore the wind speed and temperature guidelines.”

Scootaloo winced. “Is it okay if I leave my scooter here? I can’t ride it in this wind and I don’t want to carry it.”

“I’ve got a better idea: a sleepover! Scootaloo can stay for the night, right Twilight? I mean, you wouldn’t want her to walk home in this, would you?” Spike waved a claw at the swirling tempest outside.

“I don’t know Spike,I’ll bet her parents are getting awfully worried.”

“They’re not home!” Scootaloo said, a little too quickly. Seeing the concern on Twilight’s face she kept working the lie. “They’re in Manehattan. They’re not coming back until tomorrow anyway.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow but Spike’s wide eyes and the urgency in Scootaloo’s voice overruled her skepticism. “Fine,” she said indulgently. “Just promise me you two won’t be up all night reading Power Ponies comics.”

“Sorry Twi, no can do. C’mon Scootaloo, we can drop your stuff off in my room!” Spike said, grabbing Scootaloo by the hoof and leading her upstairs.


“Spike, Scootaloo, dinner’s ready! I made macaroni and cheese!” Twilight called. The two friends came bounding down the stairs to find a large cast iron pot in the middle of three table settings, steam wisping from under the lid.

“Don’t worry Scootaloo, it’s safe,” Spike said with a grin.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Very funny Spike.”

“You’re good at lots of stuff, Twilight, just not cooking,” Spike fired back. “Seriously though, Scoots, she makes a pretty tasty mac and cheese.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Scootaloo said, still wrestling with the idea that she was about to enjoy her first hot meal in a very long time. The three sat around the table and Twilight portioned them each out a heaping mound.

“Wow, Scoot you must be hungry,” Spike said as he watched Scootaloo wolf down the food in front of her.

“Uh yeah I kinda skipped lunch, thanks to that nap.” And breakfast, thanks to not having any.

“Well eat up, we’ve got lots more,” Spike said, helping himself to another spoonful.

“That must be nice,” Scootaloo said under her breath.

Twilight’s ears perked. “What was that?”

“Oh, I said it was nice of you to make dinner, thank you,” Scootaloo said aloud.

“You're very welcome. So, what are your parents doing in Manehattan?”

Despite her best efforts Scootaloo fumbled with her words. “Umm business stuff. Mom’s an architect and Dad works for a bank and she’s working on some building and money’s involved and—”

“Okay, okay, it’s a business thing, we get it,” Spike said before Scootaloo ran out of breath.

Twilight shot a scolding glance at the young dragon for interrupting. “Do they leave you alone a lot?” she said seriously.

“Sometimes,” Scootaloo said, intently studying her no longer appetizing dinner. “They’re really busy.”

Twilight laid a gentle hoof on Scootaloo’s shoulder. “That must be hard.”

Scootaloo dropped her fork, flinching at the touch. “It’s not bad. It leaves me lots time with my friends, like Spike,” she said, hoping her smile would end Twilight’s current line of inquiry.

Fortunately for Scootaloo, Spike butted in again. “Well, if you ever want to stay here when your parents are out of town I’m sure Twilight wouldn’t mind. Would you Twilight?”

“Of course not,” Twilight answered. But the princess’s face looked just like it did when she was puzzling through a hard book. It was unnerving being studied like that, and Scootaloo could only hope that Twilight would get distracted by something else.


“You’ve got to read this one next Scootaloo. Fili-Second travels back in time but she messes up the future so when she comes back everything is all crazy.”

“Awesome!” Scootaloo replied. But before she could learn what the exact consequences of time travel were, Twilight knocked on the door.

She poked her head around the door frame with an amused smile. “Okay you two. It’s midnight and time for bed.”

Spike started to protest, but a look from Twilight told him his pleas would fall on deaf ears. A yawn sealed his fate. “Maybe you’re right, Twi.” He glanced over at Scootaloo to see if she was willing to take up the cause, but she nodded in agreement instead.

“You want the bed?” Spike asked after Twilight left.

“It’s your bed, Spike, I’ll be OK on the floor.”

“I’d be a pretty terrible host if I let you sleep on the floor. I’m totally comfortable down there. Dragon scales, remember?” he said tapping some of the harder scales on his back for emphasis.

Scootaloo was about to insist, but Spike had already grabbed a pillow and begun settling into the carpet. Left with no recourse Scootaloo crawled under Spike’s purple comforter. Like the cushion in the library and the warm, plentiful dinner, Scootaloo had a hard time imagining what it must be like to sleep in a bed like this every night, completely free of the worries that plagued her daily.

“Night, Scootaloo,” Spike yawned out from down below.

“Yeah, night, Spike.” Scootaloo echoed back softly.

Author's Note:

I kinda hate the homeless Scootaloo trope. In a utopia there is no plausible way that Equestria doesn’t have some sort of foster care system. And since 99% of citizens of Equestria seem to be nice, the odds that everyone who decides to adopt a child is a heartless bastard is low. But when I decided to write a Twi Scootadopt I realized my two option were either cover similar ground I did in previous stories, or go this route. Furthermore her being homeless opens up some good avenues for Twilight getting involved.

So here's the start of this one. You all have no idea how rough of a shape this was in before Zimmerwald1915 got a hold of it. I've often said that I'm a far worse writer without the help of some great editors, and in this case it's doubly true. Zimmerwald took a seriously flawed first draft of the narrative and help shape what you just read.

Johnny Bench also helped with the editing.

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