Fallout: Equestria - The Hooves of Fate

by Sprocket Doggingsworth

What We Leave Behind

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE - WHAT WE LEAVE BEHIND
“You meet saints everywhere. They can be anywhere. They are people behaving decently in an indecent society.” - Kurt Vonnegut

I spend a lot of time thinking about legacy. You know, bakers of birthday cakes, carvers of toys, tailors, farmers, sailors, accountants, florists, and dressmakers, and polishers of princesses' silver slippers - all forgotten by Time - reduced to mere dust blowing at the stone hooves of busted up statues in the middle of nowhere.

I’d ruminatized over Pinkie Pie - how her cupcakes fared no better. Nothing remained of her but ghost stories, rusty carvings, and a gigantic doom balloon that spat fire at the skies.

But 'what we leave behind' also involves…well…leaving folks behind.

Herds of liberated slave children. Legions of soldiers celebrating a bright and shiny future to go along with their bright and shiny Crystal peace. Friends. Memories. A message, taken to heart. A gift. A twig. A photograph.

A kiss.

* * *

Scribbles and I were soaked in sludge water. Recklessly, hopelessly, disgustingly wet.

Urgency or no, we couldn't just…part ways. We had to dry off, or we'd both catch colds, or worse - hypothermia. Or even worse than that! Double Hypothermia. Where…like, your eyeballs turn into ice cubes and your lungs fly out of your face!!!

(Cliff assured me that that was strictly an outer space sort of hyperthermia. But I didn't wanna take any chances.)

Misty conjured a flaming orb for Scribbles and I to huddle around - kinda like a campfire, except it smelt of lightning, and huffed hot air at us like one of those salon-a-majigs that make your mane poof out.

Scribbles knelt over it and rubbed her hooves together. So did I.

But everything got mega-weird after that. Because Scribbles didn't say anything.

She just, you know…gazed into the "fire" and pretended not to notice me..

What's wrong with her? one of my Rose Voices said from deep inside my brain.

Why isn't she looking at me? fretted another.

What if she hates you! a Third Rose Voice screamed in blind panic.

Why does she hate me? a fourth one panicked all over the inside of my brain-head. Was it something I said? Something I did? Something I didn't-said, and didn't-did?…Does my breath stink?

Don't be stupid, the Rose Voice of Reason chimed in. Scribbles' breath smells like unwholesome cheese. Did that keep you from falling in love with her?

"Wait," I whisper-mumbled inarticulate-like under my breath. "Am I in love with Scribbles?"

The voices in my head pulled the emergency-brake-cord inside the dining car of my Train of Thought, and all of my brainwheels screeched to a violent halt.
...
…
…

How am I supposed to know? The Rose Voice of Reason said at last. I've never done this before.

I looked to Bananas Foster with desperate eyeballs. She was an expert on feelings! She could smell them, taste them, and tell a thousand confusing emotions apart from one another like those fancy perfume ponies who come by Roseluck's booth at the Ponyville Market sometimes and refer to all of the nuances in an aroma as "notes."

But Foster shook her head, as if to say, 'No. Nu-uh. Absolutely not.' And refused to help at all.

Damnit! My Rose Voices all exclaimed at once. Stupid Foster! She wanted me to figure this love stuff out. All on my own. Like a chump!

So I turned to Cliff, who was gesturing wildly at me with his head. Freaking out. Nudging. Muzzle-pointing at Scribbles as if to say, 'Rose Petal, you idiot. You haven't looked at her in forever!'

Oh, no. Oh, sweet merciful Celestia.

How long had it been? A minute? A year? The epochs it takes for entire empires to rise and fall and turn into Columnland ruins full of dust and broken statues?

I counted and counted and counted and counted and counted and counted and counted and counted and counted - trying to figure out exactly how long I had ignored Scribbles - how long I'd been stuck inside my own head.

But all I could think was: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

I turned to Scribbles at long last, and found her already looking my way.

Fuck. I cleared my throat while all of my Rose Voices continued to scream. This went on for about forty-seven-hours-or-so till my parched lips took over, and formed words of their own, "So, um…er…uh…What's up?"

C-c-clop! Misty, Foster, and Cliff all smacked their foreheads at the same time. Cringing on my behalf.

Meanwhile Scribbles just shrugged a reply. "Stuff," she said.

I looked to my friends for help yet again. Cues. Signals. Advice via giant flags waved in the air telling me - in secret code - what I was supposed to say. Anything!

But they all just leaned forward, and watched us from the other side of the 'fire.'

I turned back to Scribbles. She was keeping busy. Staring into the fire orb. Rubbing her hooves together to get nice and warm and dry.

She stole a little sideways glance at me, so I jerked my head away in purest panic, and took to glancing at her sideways too - as if through stolen eyeballs.

What the Hell was happening? Love wasn't supposed to be like this.

I'm no expert, of course. I never paid much attention to stories with too much love in them, or ones where the pirates get too whiny. (That's why I'd ditched The Adventures of Marshmallow Brokenheart and moved to Pinkbeard in the first place!)

So I had no fucking idea how your first kiss was supposed to go. I just knew I was screwing up all the afterwards-stuff.

Wham! I hit myself with the 2x4 o' Friendship, and made myself look Scribbles in the eyes again, and this time, I actually said the words that clogged me up inside.

"I don't wanna leave," Scribbles and I both blurted out at the same time.

I laughed. While she laughed.

I half-expected Cliff to jump in with a lecture about the Time Blanket. How I was destroying the universe by dragging out our goodbyes. But Cliff’s eyes were full of stars and sparkles and hearts and stuff. Flooding with tears as he watched Scribbles' parting unfold.

"I know you have to go," said Scribbles. "It's okay. Really. Everyone goes away eventually."

I gasped.

"Relax,” she laughed. "I'm a Wastelander. We're all kinda used to it. I just...don't know what to do. When I get back."

Scribbles looked to the ceiling. As if the answers might be written in the fuzzy old mold up there. "I know I can't be the same pony I was before. Not after what I saw in the Mirror House. Not after being here with you."

She patted my hoof.

"You win," I blurted out of nowhere.

"What?"

"...We win."

"Huh?" Scribbles wrinkled her face like an old, crumpled up, deeply-confused tissue.

"Slavery ends," I said. "When the sunshine and the rainbows come."

"Don't joke about that."

"No, really," I said. "Listen. I may be from the Past, but I have been to the Future. And something good is going to happen. Soon."

I squeezed my eyes shut. Tried to concentrate. Tried to remember the feeling that’d hit me when I fell through the Portal of Screams, and ended up here. Something like 200 years after the big boom.

Weeks ago, I'd passed the equally cataclysmic Sunshine and Rainbows on my way to No Mare's Land. And that had to be an extra…I don't know…five years ahead of where Scribbles and I were…Or maybe it was two? Or ten? Or six-and-a-half? Fuck!

"I don't know the exact year," I said at last. "But in your lifetime, things are gonna get better. You are part of the generation that gets to pick a side when the fight goes down."

Scribbles squinted and watched me carefully. Like when you try to read a sentence in a grown-up philosophy book, but just end up tossing the words around inside your brain - over and over and over again till you're more confused than when you started.

"There's a light ringer," I said. "A toaster repair pony."

"Toaster repair," Scribbles snorted.

"Yeah, toaster repair. I know it doesn't make any sense, but her name is Littlepip, and all you gotta do is listen for news of her. That's when you know the Sunshine and the Rainbows are coming soon.”

"A toaster repair pony. Who brings…sunshine and rainbows?"

"Yes! I mean, no. The toaster repair pony just brings hope. The sunshine and rainbows part - ponies all over Equestria make that happen for themselves." I chuckled as it hit me. Just how big a part Scribbles could play if she wanted to. How much there would be to look forward to. To hope for. To fight for. "You know what?” I said with a giant, ridiculous grin. “You're the Best Generation!”

Scribbles didn't smile back. She didn't laugh, or cheer, or leap up in the air, or…anything. "Wow," she said, mouth full of sawdust. "That's…a lot."

She gazed into the heat orb like it was a campfire. Even though it didn't flicker or crack or pop or do anything particularly fire-ish. She just stared into its bland light and fretted until a whisper escaped her lips. "I'm gonna have to go to war with my friends. Aren't i?"

"What?" My lungs turned to stone and refused to breathe.

‘Cause Scribbles was right. She was gonna have to go to war with everypony she knew.

And so would I.

In all my talk about societies going wrong, and the need to rise up and fight them, I'd never stopped to consider what that would actually mean.

Cliff and I were gonna have to confront ponies we otherwise respected. Like Cheerilee, and Nurse Redheart, and Lily Blossom, and Mayor Mare. Someday, zebra hate is gonna be everywhere, and we're gonna stand against it. All alone.

"You're not gonna stand all alone," Cliff Diver said to Scribbles.
…
…
…
"I know it's hard to believe," Cliff continued. "'Cause I'm, you know, in the same boat. Every time I look at my neighbors and my classmates and the guy who makes milkshakes near my parents' house, I worry about the kinds of ponies they'll turn into when the war hits. What I would say to them if they start hating zebras…" Cliff lowered his head. "...Or if I'll turn out to be the kind of pony who says nothing at all."

"Dude," Scribbles laughed. "Come on. You threw a chair at a teacher!"

Cliff bunched up his shoulders and tried to retreat behind them. "Well…I'm kind of... um...that's different!"

Bananas Foster stepped forward. To relieve some of Cliff’s trauma anvils. But didn't say anything at all. She didn't have to. ‘Cause Cliff, out of nowhere, shook it off like a dog whipping beach water from its fur. "The point is...” he said. “You'll have friends. And you can get through to them if you try.”

"And if you're careful," Foster added.

“Yeah, of course,” said Cliff. “You've gotta be cautious about who you open up to if you're talking about…you know, overthrowing entire slave empires that everypony you know happens to be a part of.”

“...And benefits from,” added Foster.

Scribbles winced, and looked to me with the fragile eyeballs of a foal.

“But it can be done,” said Foster. “Cliff Diver here got through to me."

“I did?”

“I'm not going to lie and pretend to totally understand your way - your vision of friendship. But you challenge me, and that's good.”

“And you got through to me,” said Cliff eyeballing Scribbles, totally out of nowhere.

“Me?!” she squeaked, (quite reasonably).

“Huh?!” Everypony else replied, all at once.

Cliff Diver laughed to himself. “That mirror - what I saw - it really did a number on me, you know? And, Scribbles, it messed you up too. I can tell. But somehow, you managed to come down here anyway. To fight whatever that fun house showed you - to be better than it.

‘That proves that the mirror doesn't really know you, and it doesn't really know me either. It just knows…”

“How to be a dick,” said Scribbles, eyeballs astonishmentishly wide as the implications of her own words dawned on her.

Foster, Misty, and me all snorted out laughter. 'Cause, like...yeah, that mirror really was a total dick.

But Cliff grew grim as grave moss, and continued exactly where he'd left off. “When I saw myself in that mirror,” he whispered. “I was a little kid again - a really little kid. And I was…falling.” He turned to Foster and me.

Foster didn't react at all. Not a flinch. But I gasped so hard that I had to raise my forehooves to my face just to keep from sucking the entire sewer up into my mouth.

Cliff’s cheeks blushed bright red. Yet somehow they managed to conjure a smile. “It's okay,” he said. “That's not really me.”

I lunged at him; hugged him.

Foster did the same. And we held each other. The three of us. Nice and warm. For a good long while.

When we were finally done, I looked to Scribbles. The heat orb was blowing her mane upwards in every direction. And her flailing locks of frizzy hair were dry as salt. Like the rest of her. But she just stood there. Stone-faced as tears cut through the dirt caked on her cheeks.

“Oh, no,” I said.

“I really should, um, get going,” she stated plainly. “By now, the Sneakers have gotta be looking for me too.”

“What are you going to tell them?” asked Foster.

“That I caught a fleeting glimpse of magic light,” Scribbles replied without pausing to think about it. “...That I followed it just in time to see you bunker stunkers teleport back to Safety.”

She sighed. Hard. As though she were belly up, and there were bowling balls piled high upon her chest, squashing the air right out of her. But when her eyeballs met my eyeballs, Scribbles swallowed her sorrow, and perked right up.

It reminded me of this one time, when I was little, and I snuck into the kitchen late at night for a snack, and accidentally caught my sister crying.

Roseluck's head was buried in a mountain of grownup papers and abacuses and stuff. She was weeping silently. Bawling without so much as a squeak. Till she saw me.

Then she bolted upright. Like a firecracker burst, the change was instantaneous. My sister's face shed its frailty. Her eyeballs somehow pierced the shimmer of her tears, and she transformed into a totally different pony. Warm. Caring. Concernitty. For me.

Scribbles stiffened. And bucked up. In. That. Exact. Same. Way.

A deep breath later, she launched into a well-practiced speech - explainifying her absence. (Complete with dramatic flare). "I tried to rush back to the fountain and tell you all, I swear! But a buncha guards swung by, and I had to hide. I ended up spending half a fucking hour in a barrel, but the good news is: I am totally certain that I didn't get spotted.”

“Oooh, that's good,” said Cliff.

“Hold on, what abo–;” I had a million questions, and tried to ask just one of them. But I couldn't get a word in.

“Don't over-apologize,” Foster emerged from the friend-huddle to go lecture Scribbles face-to-face. “Don’t overthink it either. Everypony-who-knows-you is accustomed to seeing you play it cool. All the time. So just do that.”

Scribbles opened her mouth to protest, while I tried, once again, to wedge a word in there - to pose the question that was ripping me from the inside of my brain to the tip of my stuttering tongue, “What abou–;”

Foster cut me off. Again. “If you're nervous, and it shows,” she placed a hoof on Scribbles’ shoulder. ”That's good, actually. Nopony is going to think that you followed us bunker-stunkers into an abandoned sewer so that you could kiss Rose Petal.”

“Eep,” I said.

Cliff nudged me and giggled.

“If anypony sees you sweat,” Foster continued. “They'll just presume that you're shaken up because you had to hide in a barrel from Red Eye’s troops, so don't complicate it; don't oversell it.”

“I don't scare so fucking easy,” said Scribbles.

“Great alibi by the way!” Foster added.

“Thanks,” said Scribbles. “But I don't sca–;”

“Hold the fuck on!” I snapped. And finally, finally, finally, finally, finally got everypony to shut up.

“...Your story doesn't make sense,” I said. “How could Misty have teleported us all the way back to Safety? He's not some kinda Super Wizard.”

“Am too,” said Misty, defiant on general principle. “But making teleport to Safety ees easy from where we were! Not very far from Mirror House. On Mondays, we have field trips with math class at Alpha Omega Hotel.”

“Then why did we spend all that time in a tunnel?!” I squeaked. “And how did we end up walking soooo fucking far?”

I let loose a mad scientist’s cackle - a screechy laugh, shrill enough to wake the dead. ‘Cause I fucking hated tunnels. And tunnels fucking hated me. And even though I was, for the time being, stuck in a nasty old sewer out of absolute necessity, the thought of having trekked through The Dank for a single moment that hadn't been an absolute necessity??? It was enough to make me insane!

Cliff stepped forward. “Um…guards are stationed near the spot where the amusement park meets the hotel?”

“Oh, hehehe,” I forced a nervous chuckle. “Yeah. Of course. I totally knew that. A lot. I knew it a lot.

Foster, Misty, and Scribbles looked at me. Hard. Stabbing me in the heart with a red hot fireplace-poker made entirely out of eyeballs. And all the eyeballs were screaming at me.

Then my own brain started screaming at me too. 'Cause, like…what else had I missed?!

Had I screwed up back in No Mare’s Land? In Trottica?

Fuck. What if there was some detail - some clue - that I'd spaced out on, and missed entirely? A secret word - a secret deed - that coulda saved Twink, or the kids of Sub Mine F, or kept me from messing with Screw Loose’s brain.

What if I'd missed it?! What if it had gone over my stupid head because my stupid head was too busy freaking out?!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! my thoughts shrieked and wailed and shouted at me in ways-that-were-totally-helpful-and-productive. Till…

“Hay.”

A soothing voice.

I blinked, and suddenly, right there in front of me, was Scribbles, lifting up my chin. “Take a breath, okay?”

I did.

“Ya smell that?”

I sucked the foggy sewer air into my nostrils. Coughed.

“You're here now,” she said. “Here.” Scribbles gently stamped a hoof for emphasis.

The waters below us swished against my ankles. And my brain abruptly forgot how to get lost in its own brain-labyrinth of brainitty brain-thoughts. Instead, it fixated on the real popcorn smoke and real kerosene stinging in my nostrils. Real oil and real water whipping against my hooves.

“You're here,” said Scribbles yet again. “With friends.”

Foster and Misty nodded in agreement. While Cliff just ogled Scribbles in absolute awe. I could almost hear the gears turning in his head as he ruminated, and cognatized, and tumbled all his thoughts around and around and around. Till ding! His eyes flashed to life like shooting stars.

Note to self, he seemed to say. Periodically remind Rose Petal that she's real.

“I'm so sorry,” I said.

“Hay, you survived,” said Scribbles. I could almost hear Glenn the Griffin’s voice, guiding hers. “Maybe you coulda done something different; maybe you coulda done something better. You'll never ever ever ever ever ever ever know. None of us get to know that.” Her voice turned cold. Hardened by some distant memory. For a tiny moment her eyeballs looked past me. Into the furthest reaches of the sewer tunnel - a darkness that Misty’s light could not pierce. She stared it down intently.

But then, with a blink and a flutter, that moment was gone. When Scribbles' eyeballs looked into my eyeballs again, her whole face lit up. “You're here,” she said with desperate urgency. “Now. And you have a chance to do better.”

“Thanks,” I said wiping a tear from my cheeks.

“I have a chance now too,” she said. “Thanks to you.”

“Awww,” I replied. And hugged her tight, my hooves gripping the back of her neck for Luna-only-knows how long.

When finally, we pulled away from one another, Scribbles said, “Rose, are you gonna be alright?"

“Yeah,” I sniffed.

She edged up to me reeeal close, and studied my eyeballs for signs of tears to come.

“Geez, yes. I'm fine!”

“Good," she said. “‘Cause I got lies to tell, and you've got duckies to save.”

“Emus,” Misty muttered under his breath.

“...And before any of that can happen, Scribbles continued. “I gotta give you something.”

I cocked my head like a bepuzzled dog. While Scribbles leaned forward. To offer me a kiss. A goodbye kiss.

Omigosh omigosh omigosh omigosh omigosh. I panicked so hard I forgot how to curse. I can't believe it! A Marshmallow Brokenheart Farewell.

I hate those! They're so perfect! So sappy. So impossible. So…wrong!

Like everything else about stupid romance stories, those farewell kisses were wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong!

Pirates aren't supposed to sweep each other off their hooves and smooch each other goodbye! They're supposed to sail The Sebben Seas, and celebrate their bond of eternal friendship.

“Pirates?” I said aloud. “Fuck!” Having suddenly remembered how to curse, I leaped up in a blind panic.

“WhOoOooAaa!” Scribbles stumbled back. Knocked into Foster, who swayed and tripped and toppled straight into Cliff.

He caught them both. “Ro-ose!” he cried out in protest.

But I ignored him, and lunged for my saddlebag, which sat on the ground beside the heat orb. It hadn’t gotten terribly wet in the first place, so I got straight to work, and plunged my face inside. Rummaging. Tossing. Excavating like some kinda dig-psycho-maniac.

“Aha!” I said at last. “I got it! And it's dry!" I clamped my teeth onto Glenn's old copy of Pinkbeard and the Princess of Stripes, and held it up in the air triumphantly.

I couldn't believe I'd almost forgotten. That book had been the very reason I’d chased after Scribbles in the first place!

She needed to know the story of the author, and why the preface was so important! She needed to know about the crew of the Beardo! To understand that she too could amass a tribe of rebels if she put her heart into it.

All of Equestria needed to know! To cherish the legacy of Pinkbeard. To preserve. To remember. To learn.

"I meant to give you this," I mumbled, and laid the stack of papers on a bit of dry ground near Scribbles' hooves. It had been bound with ancient ribbons, so it wasn't going to fly apart or anything, but it hardly looked like a proper book at all.

“Pinkbeard and the Princess of Stripes?” she said, squinting to read it.

I smiled back at her. “This book is gonna help you sooooooo much. ‘Cause it is the most important book ever written. It’ll give you a glimpse of what hope looks like, and how friendship amongst pirates can foil the East Equestria Trading Company, which is - omigosh, fuck wow - totally like Red Eye now that I think about it - only they don't have a gated compound to protect and brainwash kids at the same time. (The EETC only does the slavery part).”

“Okay?” said Scribbles. “Sooo…this book will tell me how to –;”

“Yes!” I squeaked so high that it echoed against the cavernous sewer walls. Everypony winced, so I hushed myself to a conspiratorial whisper. “Scribbles, it will teach you how to Everything! Pinkbeard is all about freedom and love and joy and hope and beards and boats and magic and stuff. The Great Sorcerer Planktoneth may be annoying but he'll, like…show you how to wisdom your way through the world...At least he shows Daisy how to do that till he dies in this book. Oh wait, no, I ruined it. Forget I said that. He doesn't die. Or, like, maybe he comes back. I don't know I haven't read it.”

“Wait, you haven't–;”

“She hasn't read it,” said Misty dryly.

“Ooh!” I screeched. “And you miiiiight need to dive into the other sixty-seven volumes first in order to fully appreciate Planktoneth’s sacrifice.”

“Sixty-sev–;?”

“Oh, nevermind, don't you worry about those,” I said, shaking my head to knock any stray ideas loose.

Once my brain stopped rattling around like a BINGO cage full of clonky metal bolts, I saw Scribbles in a totally new light. A glimmer of distress warbled over her eyeballs as she peered at the manuscript, and tried really really hard to digest all the news I'd just given her on the Glory that is Pinkbeard.

It was kinda cute actually. Watching her get into a staring contest with that bound up pile o’ pages.

“The point is,” I said slowly. Gently. “These pirate books made me who I am today, and this is the last one in existence. You're the only way anypony is gonna remember it.”

“Then I'll cherish the fuck out of it,” Scribbles bit the book carefully by the ribbon, and lowered it into her saddlebag. All nice and neat and…ready to go.

“Oh, um,” I fidgeted with my hooves and babbled. “I guess it's actually, you know, time that you, uh…go save all of our flanks and lie to the Safety kids, and–;”

Zoom. In the twitch of an eyelash, Scribbles lunged toward me. So fast, she turned into a bunch of blurry streaks ripping through the air. And zing! She kissed me. Hugged me. Held me close, and ran both her forehooves through my mane. While I did the same.

The whole kiss might have lasted a second; or maybe it lasted a year. It felt like both at the same time. But when Scribbles finally peeled away, she whispered, “Be safe, you wonderful dork,” and burst into a snicker and a smile.

“You too,” I replied.

Scribbles parted with a final peck on my forehead, then turned and walked away.
“See you later, Time Punks,” she called out to my friends, without turning to face us.

Cliff, Misty, and Foster all called out their polite goodbyes as Scribbles disappeared into the mists.

It was a strange little moment. The fog rolled around, and the water made that echoey ssssshhh noise. And I could feel my friends behind me. Actually. Feel them. (Though they’d taken a few steps back to give me and Scribbles some space).

Cliff’s eyes were holding back tears to give me space to shed my own. Foster and Misty were simply waiting. While I gazed pointlessly into the vapors.

My friends woulda let me stand there and stare at nothing for an entire week if I'd stayed. I’m sure of that. Despite everything else we had in front of us that night, I was absolutely positively completely totally 120,000% sure of that. But there would be no quiet meditation over Scribbles’ hoofprints. No fog-ogling, no dreaming of what I left behind.

A long deep sigh, and I was ready.

“Come on,” I said, strolling right up to them. “That Zebra isn't going to free herself.”

Author's Note:

PATREON

If this story, or my Heart Full of Pony essays have touched you, please consider supporting me on Patreon.

For those of you who already are pledging, seriously, and for real, thank you. Your support means a great deal to me. /]*[\

The earnings for this particular chapter will go towards American Near East Refugee Aid, (a highly rated charity currently providing humanitarian aid in Gaza to those who need it most [they do not work or coordinate with Hamas]).

SPECIAL THANKS: As always, I would like to thank Seraphem for his tireless assistance providing feedback during the editing process, and Kkat for writing the original Fallout: Equestria story that inspired me to write Hooves of Fate in the first place.

THOUGHTS:

Sad to see Scribbles go. Excited for adventure that is to follow. Without any brain hornets to drive Rose forward, this particular storyline has developed in ways I could neither have planned nor imagined. The characters have taken the reigns even more than usual, and that has turned out to produce a weird mixture of slice-of-life fiction, socio-political dystopian drama, and the long beginnings of adventure.

They are finally alone now, and while they have a lot to talk out, they also have a lot to do.

I'm nervous-cited about the danger they're in, and I'm eager to watch it unfold. But for now, I'm still just digesting how much I like Scribbles, and how this love story - which I never expected to write - has turned out to be so childlike and so adult at the same time.

I'd love to hear from you.

Happy Winter Wrap Up! (Slightly belated).

Comments

[Cyana Flame]

[Cyana Flame]

[Screw]

Maybe something so her and so right is going on in Rose Petal's adventure for once.

Scribbles may have been the shortest fling, because she actually flung herself at Rose, but she definitely felt like she had been there, a perfect fit from the start.

That's the second love that Rose has lost to circumstance. Maybe third time's the charm?

Rose could pull these two to the future. What would happen if she pulled a Wastelander back? Though... I am partial that she only pulled their conscious with her. Probably.

[Phoenix_Dragon]

I don't comment nearly enough, but I just wanted to say again how much I love this story and how you write your characters. Especially Rose. She can be such an adorable dork

I'm sad to see Scribbles go, and am very curious to see how it impacts Rose. They were very cute together for the tiny bit of time they get to share.

And I'm very curious and just a little concerned about how things are going to go for the crew and their little mission. Especially since, well... we know where Xenith still is at the beginning of the original Fallout: Equestria. I have the feeling things aren't going to go as planned...

[Just_Me123]

Ah, the next chapter, and it's good. I hope Scribbles does well with the rest of her life, she was an interesting character, for as far as she went with the story. Well, on with the next part then.

[Flutterstrucked]

Sometimes, I wish I could just individually 'Like' every chapter... it's so nice when every single chapter is such a treat to read. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy life to post your awesome stories on this tiny section of the internet.

[Reese]

""There's a light ringer," I said. "A toaster repair pony.""
I'm guessing "light ringer" was another nice bit of characterization, I suppose it could be called, but I thought I'd comment on it in case that one was actually a typo.

"I'm gonna have to go to war with my friends. Aren't i?"
"I'm gonna have to go to war with my friends. Aren't I?"?

"Cliff and I were gonna have to confront ponies we otherwise respected. Like Cheerilee, and Nurse Redheart, and Lily Blossom, and Mayor Mare. Someday, zebra hate is gonna be everywhere, and we're gonna stand against it. All alone."
...And knowing that, ultimately, the bombs will fall. That however much they might try to fight the currents of society, they can't, ultimately, save more than a hoofful of people at most unless they can find a way to overcome the currents of the already-fixed history of the future. Exactly how long they have until the start of the war may be unclear, but less than a decade -- and once it does, about twenty years, and that's it. There is genuine good to be done there, suffering that they don't know happened and so can try to prevent with hope of success, but living always under the shadow of everything from the bombs to the reopening of the Crystal Empire.
Oof.

Thanks for writing! As usual, I enjoyed the chapter. :)

And Happy Belated Winter Wrap Up to you too! :)