CUTIE MARK CRUSADER SLEEPOVER AT OCTAVIA'S! YAY!

Chapters

Prologue: Ventes-sur-lattes, in which four fillies get intoxicated
Tea Time Talk
Scootaloo's Not-Quite Aunt
Octavia's Gift
The Importance of Planning
Laying Down the Law
Energy Management
Charm Offensive
Horse's Necks and Blazing Saddles
Octavia's Gift, Revisited

Prologue: Ventes-sur-lattes, in which four fillies get intoxicated

The mare trotted through the green hallway, urgency in her step but composure still held. It didn’t take long to find her destination. One needed only to listen for a loud conversation.

“I can’t believe you, Berry, puttin’ something that dangerous in your fridge when you know there’s little children about,” Applejack started.

Berry sighed in response and held her head low. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry? I didn’t think this sort of thing would happen.”

“Darling, as much as I hate to say it, Applejack is right. It’s irresponsible to keep something that dangerous lying around where anyone can reach.”

“Excuse me, ladies,” the newly arrived Earth pony interrupted, “would any of you care to inform me what exactly has happened to your little sisters? The front desk was somewhat hesitant to provide me with any details.”

The three mares turned their heads to inspect the new arrival. Grey coat, dark grey hair, thick limbs… to Applejack and Rarity, she seemed oddly familiar. The cutie mark -- some sort of musical symbol neither of them really knew the meaning of -- certainly looked unique but neither of them could recall where they’d seen it. The bowtie definitely rang a bell or two, as well.

“I’m sorry, but…who are you?” Rarity asked with a raised eyebrow.

“My name is Octavia Philharmonica, I’m here for Scootaloo. So, I ask again, what’s happened to her?”

“You’re Scootaloo’s big sister?” Applejack asked.

Octavia kept up a stoic expression, smiling politely as she explained herself. “Not quite, but we do live under the same roof. I’m her aunt’s housemate. You all know Vinyl Scratch, I presume?”

The farmer tried to get her head around that little bit of information. It did not work. “Wait, you live with her aunt and she lives with the both of you? How does that work?”

“It works quite well, thank you,” came the dismissive reply. “Now, if you don’t mind, why is Scootaloo in the hospital?”

“Well, apparently Miss Punch here thought it was a good idea to keep alcoholic beverages around while her little sister was left unsupervised,” Rarity hissed.

“Along with your little sister, you mean,” Octavia remarked somewhat snidely.

“What, pray tell, are you getting at, dear?” Rarity half-threatened. This new one sounded about as conceited as a Canterlot pony, and not the type she’d made friends with, either.

Octavia, rather than pressing the issue, walked past the mares and knocked on the door of what she hoped was the right room.

Rarity rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t bother, darling. They locked us out.”

The door opened with a little crack, some whispering was heard between Octavia and nurse Redheart, and Octavia was let in while an exasperated nurse came out.

Rarity’s jaw dropped. “What just happened?”

Octavia smelled the air around the girls. The buckets next to their beds had been cleaned, but that familiar smell of post-intoxication regurgitation was still there. Piña Colada was the first to speak up. “Are you going to yell at us, too?”

“No, darling, I just want to know what exactly happened. Your siblings seem a bit preoccupied at the moment.” Octavia sat her rump down to the tune of arguing mares right outside the door. “I heard you got sick drinking some alcoholic beverages. Are you feeling better now?”

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle sat upright, looking to their prone pegasus friend.

“Well, our heads still hurt, and Sweetie Belle keeps saying she can feel the electricity in the lights. I think Scootaloo’s got it worst, though: she drank the whole bottle in one go.”

Octavia’s eyes went over the orange filly’s body. She looked fast asleep, save for the fact that she slowly tried to move and keep her eyes open. Her open mouth, revealing the black tongue that they all shared now, was also a bit unsettling.

Octavia leaned in to the little girl and whispered. “How are you feeling, Scoots?”

She croaked. “Bad. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to do what I did. I-I didn’t mean to.”

Octavia stroked the girl's head and looked up to the other three. “All right, then. Would any of you please tell me what exactly transpired to get you into this mess, and why is it that you all have black tongues?”

“Thanks a lot, girls,” the pale pink filly started as they got off the train, “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the help.”

“That’s okay. Cherry sorting’s a lot easier than apple bucking, and Applejack did say I had to broaden my horizons. Plus, the extra bits from helping out miss Jubilee will go a long way to fixing our roof.” Apple Bloom kept her head high and tried to hide the little twitch in her hind legs. She’d overworked herself to impress the others, but in the end she didn’t mind.

Piña tilted her head. “Your farm’s got a hole in the roof?”

“No, our clubhouse does,” Apple Bloom replied with a roll of the eyes, ”since Scootaloo wanted to know if she could jump her scooter over a tree.”

“I did,” Scootaloo proudly declared.

“And she landed in the tree behind it.”

“Oh… right.” The scenario played out in her head, making her grimace. Scootaloo didn’t look any worse for wear, at least.

“Is anyone else really thirsty? I think I swallowed some sand back at the orchard.” Sweetie Belle rubbed her throat and coughed.

Pinña Colada perked up at that. “Oh, my sister’s got a fridge full of drinks. She said I could share.”

“What kind of drinks?” Scootaloo raised an eyebrow.

“She said she put some bottles ready just for us, I don’t know what kind. But she always makes really good treats, even kinds that you can’t buy in Ponyville. Unless you wanna go home already…” She let that trail off. Piña wasn’t used to hanging out with the most notorious kids in town, but so far they didn’t seem so bad at all. And since she was still a blank flank -- most of the time, thanks very much, Cutie Mark Chameleon Syndrome – she did want to at least make a good impression.

And to her delight, the Cutie Mark Crusaders were always up for new experiences. They hadn’t gotten a cherry sorting cutie mark, maybe they could get a drink tasting cutie mark. Once they’d actually gotten that far, though, one problem presented itself.

“That label says ‘beer’.” Apple Bloom stood perfectly still, not daring to make a move towards the bottles.

“Is that a problem?” Piña Colada raised an eyebrow as she offered a small bottle.

“You’re giving us beer?” Scootaloo asked.

“Umm… yeah. What’s wrong with beer?” Piña got the chilled bottles out for everypony.

“My sister says beer is bad for you, and it’s definitely not for foals,” Apple Bloom stated matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure my parents don’t want me drinking beer, either.” Sweetie Belle nodded in agreement.

“But my sister told me to get this. She said it was a treat just for me and my friends.”

“Well…”

Octavia groaned after hearing the whole story. She gave Scootaloo a little pat on the head and headed for the door. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll sort this out. You won’t be here for much longer.”

Once she exited, door still open, the musician was greeted by Rarity and Applejack still chewing out Berry Punch over the incident. Nurse Redheart was trying in vain to get them to be quiet, an endeavour that proved even more difficult than it had been when Pinkie Pie discovered the joy of celebrating a foal’s birthday. While they were trying to sleep and recover from the shock of being born, that is.

Octavia tapped Redheart’s shoulder to get her attention. “Excuse me, nurse, but I had just had a talk with the girls and I must ask, is there any real reason to keep Scootaloo here any longer?”

Redheart blinked a few times to remind herself that this one was, at least, not approaching a state of hysteria. “Well, the only reason to keep them here is for observation. The alcohol poisoning is one thing, but we don’t really know what that black thing is on their tongues. Piña Colada said Scootaloo tried to force-feed it to them once the dizziness came in, and she hasn’t been quite lucid enough to explain what it is or why she’d do that. There’s also the matter of her gulping it all down at once. At least the others were a little slow to drink the stuff.“

“Ah. Well, I can clear that up. The black substance on their tongues is activated coal. Scootaloo’s mother always keeps some with her, I guess Scootaloo does it too.” Octavia rolled her eyes.

“Activated coal? On a ten-year-old? Seriously?” the nurse asked, flabbergasted.

“What does that mean?” Rarity interjected.

Nurse Redheart shook her head, confused. “It’s nothing dangerous. It’s a universal antidote, sort of. It absorbs poison if you’ve swallowed any. It doesn’t cure anything, but it stalls for time. I guess she thought they’d drank some sort of poison and that it would help. But why would she drink a whole bottle in one gulp? Where does she get that?”

Octavia chuckled. “Her father does that all the time, he got it from some flying reindeer and… you know kids: monkey see, monkey do. It’s a silly habit, I know. This really isn’t as bad as it looks, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to take Scootaloo home now.”

“Sure. I’ll go get the paperwork,” Redheart replied, hastily making good her retreat before the other mares warmed up their tongues again.

“You’d really rather take that girl home instead of keeping her in the hospital for safety’s sake?” Rarity asked, incredulous.

Octavia shrugged. “Ponyville hospital has greater concerns than a filly who needs to recover from being drunk. They didn’t get sent to the hospital after all their other little accidents, no need to keep them for the night.”

“Little accident? Piña Colada got them drunk.” Rarity restrained herself from shouting, albeit barely.

“Well, if memory serves, your little sister nearly got them stoned once in the Everfree Forest, so I’m willing to call it ‘par for the course’.”

“And suppose she has brain damage?” Applejack tried.

Octavia held up a hoof and smiled, before calling out behind her. “Scootaloo, darling, could you tell me how many cookies are in the cookie jar back home?”

“Umm…no?” came the croaking reply.

Applejack frowned.

“I don’t look in the cookie jar, it’s off limits.”

Octavia grinned to her compatriots. “Now, she is either lucid enough to remember following that rule, or lucid enough to lie about not following it. Either way, I’d say her brain is functioning normally. Besides that, if they had brain damage, we’d be having this discussion in the emergency ward, not here. I’d rather she rest up in the comfort of home, not within earshot of supposedly responsible adults bickering over who is to blame for a random accident.”

Applejack glared. “We ain’t bickerin’, Octavia.”

“Quite right, Applejack. I will not be told off when some careless ditz lands my little sister in a hospital. We have every right to speak our minds and they should hear that we’re standing up for their safety,” Rarity concurred.

“Darling, regardless of what you call your method of communication, it is loud and it is disturbing. It’s giving me a headache, and I’m ruddy sober. So I’d rather Scootaloo relax with something a little more calming to listen to. Her aunt’s death metal collection comes to mind.”

That little jab silenced the both of them for a bit.

“So you don’t think is my fault, or Piña’s?” Berry Punch took her turn in being surprised.

“Do you honestly want to know what I think? I think that if Scootaloo and her friends had listened to little Piña, this would not have happened. I think the only reason this silly accident transpired is because of a misunderstanding. The girls found bottles labelled ‘beer’, and only one of them thought it was meant for them. I think that if the girls had been told there is a thing called alcohol that makes drinks unfit for foals, they might have listened to Piña and gone for the table beer like they should have. But no one did, so they went with the alcoholic lemonade, even though the beer had their name on it. At any rate, I don’t think any one pony is to blame for this. We could all have avoided it quite easily,” Octavia calmly explained with that dominating presence Canterlot ponies loved to bring forth.

“That still doesn’t excuse having unlabelled bottles of alcoholic drinks just lying around, especially if they look that much like lemonade,” Rarity started, glaring at Berry.

“Well, if there were unlabelled drinks in the house, then I presume at least one foal was informed never to take any unlabelled drinks to begin with.” Octavia shot a glance to Berry, who nodded in reply. “So there you have it. You can’t blame Berry for setting up a rule and the girls not following it. It was the rest of them who convinced Piña that the unlabelled bottles were safer. As for why they were unlabelled… vente-sur-lattes surplus, I take it? I wasn’t aware you could do that with anything, I thought it was just champagne.”

Again, Berry Punch just nodded and shrugged. Rarity and Applejack were bobbing their heads back and forth between the two, clearly caught out of the loop. Nurse Redheart came by again, paperwork in mouth. They went inside and placed the forms on Scootaloo’s bed so Octavia could sign them. “There. Time to go home, Scootaloo.”

She tried to get up, but she wound up wobbling unsteadily and collapsing on the bed again. Her voice came out slurred. “I-I’m not surrrre if I can really walk right nowwhoa -” She stumbled forward, nearly falling out of bed before Octavia caught her.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to carry you home.” Octavia bent over for the dizzy filly to drape herself over that comfy back.

Nurse Redheart stroked the girl’s mane back, just in case she threw up again. “Now remember: no strenuous activities, no heavy meals, and –“

“Lots of water and minerals. Thank you, nurse, I know the drill.”

That got the first real smile from Redheart since this little crisis had erupted. As she trotted out, Applejack and Rarity shot the musician an odd look. She paid it no heed. “Right, this has certainly been a very exciting afternoon. I’m sure you have much to discuss, but if it’s all the same to you I’d rather discuss things further when everypony has calmed down.”

“Are you implying that we are not calm?” Rarity hissed.

Octavia slowly walked along, careful to keep the filly on her back stable. “Implying? No, darling, I am remarking that your argument is giving the maternity ward a run for its money. Be a dear, would you, and either stop shouting at poor Berry here or move the argument to where your intoxicated sisters don’t have to listen to it?”

Silence fell as she passed by, and she didn’t bother to check the facial expressions. As much as Octavia liked making new friends, the hospital was not an appropriate place to do so and the argument she’d walked in on had no business being that close to four fillies who’d had their first brush with alcohol. Well, three fillies now. Scootaloo stirred as they exited the hospital and the bright sunlight hit her. “Don’t try to move too much, darling. Just lie back and I’ll get you home. How’s your stomach?”

Said stomach groaned, along with its owner. “All emptied out.”

“I’ll fix up something nice and light for you, then.”

“Hey, Octavia?” Scootaloo raised her head just a little, causing the mare to stop.

“What’s wrong?”

“Thanks for not yelling at me.”

She chuckled to herself and resumed her pace. “Think nothing of it, dear. And don’t feel bad about Rarity and Applejack. They were worried, nothing more. Ponies act strange sometimes when they’re scared. I’m sure they’ll be right back to their old selves once everything’s settled down, and we’ll have a nice talk when they do.”

“So, you’re not angry about me drinking… whatever that was?”

“Really, Scootaloo, it was an honest mistake. You can’t be expected to know what an alcoholic lemonade tastes like, especially that awful stuff. It’s so sweet you hardly notice the liquor in it. Rather defeats the purpose, if you ask me. But now you know: read the label before you drink it, and don’t touch something that doesn’t have a label. Even if you’re sure it’s a drink, that doesn’t mean it’s going to go down well… or cause anything to come up again.”

“I will. And I don’t ever want to drink alcohol again.” The filly shook her head back and forth. She noticed they’d reached Ponyville’s main road already, just passing by Sugarcube Corner. Fluttershy gave her a worried glance passing by, but Scootaloo just gave her ride a quick hug and a smile to show she was okay. No one had ever seen her with Octavia, and now was not the time to be making long-winded introductions. At least Pinkie Pie knew about her, but then she knew about every pony in town.

“Oh, don’t say that. When you’re old enough, you’ll get to taste all sorts of drinks. You just need to be careful of when, what and how you drink, that’s all. Trust me, when you’ve tasted a fine wine or a proper whiskey, and when you’ve learned the value of moderation, you’ll forget all about today’s bad experience. Those alco-pops, or whatever they’re called, have far too much sugar in them to get a good taste for it. Wait until you try a proper alcoholic drink and judge it then.”

“I guess, if you say so. I’m just worried, you know?”

“Of what, darling?”

“What’ll my mom say, or aunt Vinyl?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be very proud of you, still lucid enough to reach for a medicine when you’ve just downed that amount of alcohol. Honestly, even I’m impressed. I’ve seen college students with worse reactions than yours.”

Scootaloo laughed, then coughed. “Urgh, my breath smells like vomit.”

Octavia chuckled again. “Yes, that’ll happen. And I’ll be sure to wash that smell out of your mane and mine when we get home.”

“Sorry. I hope it comes out.”

To that, Octavia practically burst out in laughter. “Oh, Scootaloo… if only you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Let’s just say that smell is oddly nostalgic to me.”

“Huh?”

“You smell just like your aunt did when I first met her.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Your mother, too, almost.”

Scootaloo crawled forward a few inches to check Octavia’s face. It didn’t look like she was lying, or joking. “Then what did my mom smell like, exactly?”

“Like you do right now, but with more apple.”

“Huh? Wait, how did you meet aunt Vinyl and my mom?”

Octavia casually averted her eyes. “Let’s just say that when I first met your family, copious amounts of cider were involved, and quite a bit of it did not land where it was supposed to.”

Author's Note

This was my final submission to the Author Support Writing Prompt, the same prompt that spawned Upside to Your Backside (which won), Rarity and Little Waiwai (which also won), and Trial of Faux Pas (which didn't win, but they changed the rules so successive victories couldn't happen anymore). In this last one, the prompt was simply 'The CMC get drunk'.

Oddly enough, this one won by default, because no one else participated.

Anyway, I'd like it to have it on record again that when I make a character likeable, I intend to make them likeable. When I make them unlikeable, usually it's also intentional. Octavia does some very unlikeable things, but this allows me to establish her character. It's an extreme situation, and she's put in stark contrast with characters we know, so that lets me paint an accurate picture of her right off the bat.

I have no idea why this thing is double posted, I think it's an internal problem.

Tea Time Talk

“Darling, you can’t imagine how happy I am that you accepted my invitation. It’s so nice to have afternoon tea with a Canterlot pony of some sophistication.” Rarity sipped her tea, regaling in the company as her massive hat turned a few heads in the street.

“Well gee, thank you kindly,” Applejack replied with a hint of sarcasm as she wolfed on a scone. Cheerilee, for her part, merely snickered to herself.

The actual Canterlot pony, as Canterlot ponies often do, gave it some thought before weighing her words. The grey mare knew a set-up when she saw one, but she’d seen no good reason to refuse the invite, so she’d come.

After all, Octavia was an artist, Rarity was also quite the artist. Why shouldn’t she accept? “Oh, the pleasure’s all mine, darling. I don’t get out much, I’m afraid, but afternoon tea is a tradition I still enjoy here. That said,” she added with a sip of her tea, mentally preparing for whatever the three mares had planned, ”I was a bit surprised you invited me and not Vinyl.” Let’s see… Apple Bloom’s sister, Sweetie Belle’s sister, and their teacher. Doesn’t take a genius to see where this is going…

“Oh, well, Vinyl made a lovely presentation for Family Appreciation Day,” Cheerilee hastily replied, ”Even if we don’t know her that well, at least she made an appearance to remember.”

Octavia pressed a hoof to her forehead. “Don’t tell me she brought her bass cannon?”

“She did. But she didn’t fire it, luckily. She did mention something about her music, but not a lot of details.”

Octavia gave her best smug smile. “And now that you’ve seen her, along with all the shenanigans those girls get up to, you wonder whether or not Scootaloo is growing up in a stable environment. Am I right?”

That nearly got the whole table laughing.

“Well, ya can’t blame us, can ya? I mean, you are hosting the next sleepover, and let’s face it: the Cutie Mark Crusaders can be a little...” Applejack let that trail off.

“Energetic?” Octavia tried.

“To say the least. You know how eager those girls are to get their cutie marks and if you’re not related to them, arranging a sleepover can be a bit tricky. But actually, aside from that I think we’re all just a bit curious about you. You’ve performed in Canterlot -- you were raised there, I presume -- and you live in Ponyville, yet I never see you around. Why is that?” Rarity inquired.

With the secrecy of their intent broken, Octavia just acted like herself. She had a lot of personae to hide behind, but this was still Ponyville, not Canterlot. No need to be coy about anything. “I just have a different schedule from most ponies, is all. I go to Sugarcube Corner right when it opens, unlike most. And I don’t go every day, I just stock up when my supply of pastry runs low. I suppose it’s the same reason no one ever sees your parents around town.”

“She’s got you there, Rarity.” Applejack smirked.

“And what about the fillies coming by this weekend? Are you sure you and Vinyl can handle them? They are sweet little girls, but if there’s anything fragile in the house, you need to be careful,” Rarity asked with a hint of worry.

“Vinyl will be away this weekend for an airborne performance in Canterlot. She’s already cast her wing spell and everything. As for ‘handling’ them, I’m quite confident I can do that on my own, thank you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t underestimate them if I were you,” Cheerilee added with a gentle smile, ”Those three are quite good at causing a mess, I’ve seen it happen myself. That’s even if they don’t poison someone outright.”

“They did break a table at Fluttershy’s place.” Applejack grimaced. ”You gotta be careful with them around. They’re not bad kids, but once they get an idea into their heads, there’s no stopping them. They’re a real hoof full, the bunch of them.”

“Huh…” Octavia pondered aloud while nibbling on a scone. “That’s not been my experience at all.”

The three mares at the table raised their eyebrows as if Octavia had just announced she’d given birth to a five-headed gryphon with a black widow spider’s colour scheme.

“What? Scootaloo’s never given me any trouble, as far as I remember. And that’s been, what, a year now? Year and a half, maybe?”

Rarity was the first to pick up her jaw. “Surely you jest. Scootaloo’s the most active of the bunch, and with her missing her mother I can’t imagine she’d listen to anyone.”

Octavia narrowed her gaze in confusion. “I’m sorry, what do you mean by ‘missing her mother’?”

“Umm… doesn’t she?” Cheerilee tried.

Octavia carefully put her food and drink on the table and leaned in. “Has no one told you how things are in our house?”

Three heads shook. Octavia got the confirmation she needed. “Well, that explains the invitation. Parent-teacher conference it is, then. To answer your question: no, she doesn’t miss her mother at all. Why would she miss someone she can see at any time?”

“Err…I’m confused,” Cheerilee admitted.

“Hasn’t Pinkie Pie told you? Scootaloo moved to Ponyville because she can’t fly, and her school in Cloudsdale is just too hard to reach on her own if she has to leave from a cloud home. She can walk on the clouds, sure, but it’s quite a ways away. Her home is in the suburbs, you see, and pegasus cloud roads aren’t designed for efficiency, they never needed to be. Her parents would have to drop her off in the morning at a painfully early hour because of their schedules, and for a growing filly that’s just not healthy. I’d gotten a place here with Vinyl, and Scootaloo’s parents asked if her she could move in with us about… six weeks after we settled in, if I recall correctly. Vinyl asked me if it was a problem, and I couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse her. Nor do I question it now. Pinkie Pie made her feel welcome, as she always does, and when she heard of how things were, she offered to lend Scootaloo her balloon if she wanted to see her parents.”

Applejack shook her head. “Wait, so she just flies off in that balloon over the weekend to see her folks?”

“If she asks, which isn’t that often,” came the calm reply, ”It’s not that big a deal. Her parents can still take a day off to take her places, they keep in touch as much as one would expect. It’s really no different from, say, boarding school. Scootaloo’s quite a happy filly, I assure you.”

Rarity still didn’t get the picture. “And you don’t have any trouble with her at all? No little accidents, no arguments?”

Octavia shrugged and smiled. “Not really. Her dear aunt Vinyl keeps her busy, and I keep an eye on her when I can. I set some rules, and Scootaloo follows them. For as long as I’ve known her, on my word of honour, she has never given me a reason to be angry at her. I’ve never even had a real argument with her. She’s as well-behaved a filly as anyone could ask for.”

If they were surprised before, now there were jaws dropping again.

“You get Scootaloo to listen?” Cheerilee asked. ”How? No offense, but… you’re not a blood relative, what authority do you have?”

“Tell me, Cheerilee, how many of the children in your class are your blood relatives?”

Silence fell.

“I explain myself, that’s all. If I tell Scootaloo not to use the oven without me around or the house will burn down… surprise, surprise, she’s smart enough not to touch the oven. I told her to stay out of my room, made sure she’d never need anything from my room, and she stays out of my room. I tell her not to eat the sweets or drink chocolate milk or she’ll lose her appetite, and she listens, doubly so since she gets chocolate milk with her dinner sometimes. Scootaloo may be a little filly, but she understands the concept of mutual respect. I don’t need to be a relative for that.”

“But… that still doesn’t explain how,” Applejack insisted. ”I mean, I haven’t seen you two together or anything. How do you two… I dunno, get along?”

“Oh.” Octavia nodded at the obvious question. “Well… let me put it this way, when Scootaloo’s parents decided she’d get a scooter, Vinyl picked out the best-looking one she could find. I then picked out the matching helmet and made sure it was a snug fit. Vinyl gets her that rock music she loves so much, I got her a set of headphones so she can listen to it without bothering anyone, and I warn her setting it too loud will make her ears hurt. That’s my authority. I know what’s safe, and I make the consequences of her actions clear before she goes ahead and does something. “

The mares kept on staring at her as she talked.

“If she needs anything, she just has to ask me or Vinyl. Other than that I hardly notice her, let alone argue with her. She’s already figured out that having lots of things is meaningless if you don’t have the time to enjoy them all, so she’s not really spoiled either. She does her chores, and she knows what rewards she can expect. Really, I’ve never had any problems with her. Out of the house, where I’m not around, she’ll make mistakes, but in the house she has never disobeyed me or questioned me. And… I don’t know how you handle your little sisters or students, but my method hasn’t failed me yet,” the musician added with just a tad of smugness.

The Earth ponies and unicorn realised something at that point. Octavia was a Canterlot pony, like Twilight. She had an air of calm organisation, and some amount of pride, with just a hint of snobbism. This basically meant that if they wouldn’t say something to Twilight, it was a bad idea to try it on Octavia, too.

Cheerilee was still trying to her head around the family situation, though. “So… Scootaloo is fine living with her aunt and you? And she’s not sad, she doesn’t have any problems?”

Octavia narrowed her eyes. “What makes you even think she has any problems?”

Cheerilee sighed. “Well, for one thing, she falls asleep in class, and she can’t fly. What really worries me, though, is that she doesn’t even try to fly. I’m sure Rainbow Dash would gladly teach her, or even Fluttershy. But no one’s ever seen her try to get any lift. I’ve asked some of her classmates, and they’ve never seen her do any training, not so much as a little reading on the topic. It’s like she just doesn’t care about flight, which isn’t normal for a pegasus pony. All the other pegasus foals can fly at that age, she should at least try practising.”

“Come now, surely you know that wouldn’t do any good. No amount of flight training will get that filly off the ground.” Octavia smiled as she thought the teacher was telling a little joke.

Rarity, Applejack and Cheerilee all stared at her like she was an abusive parent or something.

I swear, if they keep this up I’m going to take a picture and pin it on my wall. “What? It’s true, isn’t it?”

“That’s kinda harsh, Octavia,” Applejack tried.

Octavia tilted her head. “Hold on. You mean to tell me that you seriously don’t know why she never tries to fly?”

Rarity shrugged and looked around the table, getting no interruption. “We all just assumed she’d given up hope or something, her friends certainly think she has. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom worry about her, they’ve told us, but they haven’t confronted her about it. None of us are really experts at pegasus flight, but I should think Scootaloo at least got some encouragement to try.”

Octavia chuckled at that, much to their chagrin and confusion. “Scootaloo can’t fly because her wings are too small, and her magic isn’t developed enough for it. No amount of training is going to fix that.”

“Come now, surely there’s a way?” the white mare insisted.

“No, really, that’s just how she is. Her wing type is one that grows slowly, but eventually grows much larger than average, the proportions are almost that of a princess in adults. That’s just one of the quirks of her breed, nothing more. That’s why she goes on her scooter so much and why she never folds her wings against her sides, it’s doctor’s orders. She needs to train those muscles now or she’ll get a back problem once her wings grow in full. It’s not that uncommon, really, three of my classmates in Canterlot were just like that. She’ll fly once puberty comes around, that’s when her wings will be big enough. In the meantime, there’s just no point in trying. I thought you knew. It should be on her medical records, at least.”

“It isn’t. But what you’re saying is, she doesn’t try to fly because she knows she can’t? That’s pretty sad.” Cheerilee winced.

“Not to her it isn’t. She’s dealt with it, she can cope. She gets plenty of speed on the ground, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I’ve brought some of my friends around, she had a little chat with them and she was quite impressed at the idea of having that big a wingspan. She’s not missing anything, you know. She will fly eventually. Scootaloo isn’t the type to mope or whine about something, she goes out and does something about it, if she can. If she can’t, she deals with it.” The mare shrugged as that train of thought found its final station. “Why do you think she’s so obsessed with getting her cutie mark? She can’t control when adolescence comes around, so she can’t control when she’ll be able to fly. She can control when she gets her cutie mark, so that’s what she focuses on. Sounds perfectly normal to me.”

“I suppose that does explain it, but you should talk to her about the sleeping in class. It can be a bit disruptive sometimes.”

“Well…” Octavia took a long sip of her tea, silently wishing it had some alcohol in it. ”I imagine if little Scoots hasn’t told anyone the rest of it, she wants to keep that a secret too, so you did not hear this from me. I’m serious: this does not leave the table.”

All three mares nodded a little apprehensively.

“Part of Scootaloo’s condition, her wing type or her breed, is that she sheds every few weeks. Pegasus wings aren’t like bird wings, they’re a mix of bat and bird. She has both feather-like extensions with bone in them and regular bird feathers, and it’s the bird feathers that keep her up at night sometimes. Every once in a while, they start falling off because of… some hormone or other, I’m not sure. When it happens, she gets a rash around her waist and on her back. She basically becomes allergic to her own feathers.”

Rarity leaned in at that one, nearly choking on her tea. “Allergic to her own feathers? A pegasus pony? Is that even possible?”

Octavia pondered for a bit. “It’s not that exactly -- you’d have to ask Vinyl -- but the end result’s the same. So when it happens, Vinyl puts some cream on the rash, and makes sure she’s tucked in nice and warm, since it provides a bit of a chill. And, well, you’ve all been around small children, I don’t need to tell you what happens when you put a foal to bed whose lower extremities are chilled.”

That got a knowing groan from the trio.

“The real problem is that, aside from the rash on her waist and some spots at random, she always gets one on her wings and on the small of her back. So that is always a little cold and wet compared to the rest of her body when she goes to bed. And that is what’s making her fall asleep in class sometimes.”

“I don’t follow,” Rarity tried.

Applejack nodded as the facts sunk in. She’d heard this sort of lecture shortly after the last Running of the Leaves. “Pegasus ponies are sensitive on their wings and back. Besides that, their wings moving is connected to their breathing and that spot is linked to their wings. They’re not as sensitive to cold air, but cold water or anything wet can keep them up at night. It’s an instinct thing, makes’em think they’re bleeding on their blind spot, that a predator’s got’em. It’s not so bad on a grownup, but on foals it can get pretty nasty. They get uneasy, panicky, even. I guess she gets nightmares then, huh?”

Octavia shrugged, her face devoid of any mirth for the moment. “Indeed. It doesn’t happen every time, but there are occasions that Scootaloo just snaps awake in the middle of the night, panting and shaking. Vinyl usually tries to calm her down with a lullaby spell, but the poor girl doesn’t get a wink of sleep when the night terrors come in. If she’s lucky, it happens on the weekend and she can sleep in, barely remembers what she dreamed of. If not, she goes to school with an elevated blood pressure and only a few hours of sleep.”

To that, Cheerilee could think of only one answer. “Oh.”

“It’s all right. It never lingers, she cheers up fast enough afterwards, she just has a tired day when it happens. I’m sure Scootaloo just doesn’t talk of it because she doesn’t want pity, I’ve seen the exact same thing before and those ponies turned out fine, they grow out of it eventually. Scootaloo is quite independent for her age. Really, there’s no problem at all, and I’d be more than happy to accommodate them on their little sleepover.”

Applejack chuckled. “All right, just keep in mind Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom might not be as easy to get through to. Those fillies egg each other on all the time, and on a sleepover they get worse.”

“Well then, I’ve been rambling on about Scootaloo for long enough now… care to tell me what I can expect from your little fillies?” Octavia smiled as she’d pretty much said all she’d needed (and wanted) to say on the subject.

The afternoon had come and gone, tea had been lovely, and once everyone was clear on Scootaloo’s predicament (or lack of a predicament, actually), Octavia had quite enjoyed herself. Little anecdotes on teaching, life on a farm and even some design tips from Rarity… all in all, an afternoon well spent.

And she did now have someone else in town to talk to besides Pinkie Pie and Vinyl.

On that note, when the Earth pony mare ascended the stairs to Vinyl’s bedroom, she silently thanked Celestia for having dodged the topic of how she’d met the DJ.

More importantly, no pony had asked what exactly their relationship was like.

As Octavia watched the slumbering unicorn under those bed sheets, a wicked grin crept up her face. The two had a ‘healthy’ relationship, was the only word for it, based partially on mutual challenges. Vinyl Scratch would drag her off to some beastly night club and giggle at her awkward attempts at raving. Octavia would kindly invite her to the high-end social parties and snicker to herself as the unicorn tried to contain her urge to, among other things, burp and go “Aww yeah!”. They pushed one another out of their comfort zones from time to time, and always made sure that things never got too uncomfortable. It gave them a sense of freedom, a mutability that was inexorably linked to their creativity.

That train of thought got more intense in her mind as she snuggled into bed with the white mare, summoned gossamer wings making a wider bulge in the sheets. Scootaloo wouldn’t be home for a while, there was no reason she couldn’t have a little fun.

“Hmm…hey, hot flanks.” Vinyl stirred in her sleep as Octavia rubbed around her belly. Those hyaline wings started rising, as if inflated by the affection.

That’s interesting. So even unicorns can get those… what were they called again? Ah, ‘wingboners.’ “Hello, darling. Sleep well?”

“Hmm, how was the tea talk?”

“It went quite well, thank you. Your little niece is apparently quite the enigma around these parts. I explained a few things to stop them worrying, swore them to secrecy.”

“So that means, what, three days before Rarity tells the whole town?” Vinyl smirked as Octavia’s hooves gently stroked her sides. The unicorn’s gossamer wingboner got harder, and one of her legs kicked feebly, if incredibly cutely.

Now the both of them had pondered their relationship for a while before getting to where they were. The issue of lesbianism wasn’t one they were unfamiliar with, but fact of the matter was, it just didn’t come up for them. Neither Vinyl Scratch nor Octavia was interested in a romantic relationship with the other. They had mutual respect, and they both admired the passion the other had for their art. They got along just dandy, and liked each other very much.

But a married couple, they were not. They were far too happy with things as they were for that sort of commitment. At least, for now.

Of course, that never stopped them from indulging in the guilty pleasure of meaningless physical gratification.

Like right then and there. Consenting adults and all that.

“So, darling…” Octavia licked Vinyl’s ear as the hug from behind got tighter. ”When did you cast that wing spell, exactly?”

“One at noon, then I had to lie down. It’ll last long enough, and I’ll stay away from the hot spotlights, like you told me.” Vinyl wriggled in that Earth pony vice grip cuddle. Octavia pressed her whole body against Vinyl’s, holding her like a giant stuffed animal. The butterfly wingboner became large enough to form a tent under the sheets.

“And when does your train leave?”

“About two hours, so no problem. I can get my stuff ready pretty quickly.”

“Hmm.” Octavia moaned gently as Vinyl’s tail tickled her hips, the usual trick she tried when Octavia held her that tight. It never made her let go, but it still added a nice sense of struggle to the game. ”When will you be back?”

“Monday morning. Princess Luna’s asked for a listen of our latest project, so it’ll depend on what she says. But definitely Monday, at the latest. A little lower, Octy…”

With a grin, Octavia moved her hoof over the unicorn’s flank, gently massaging those thick muscles as the winged one kicked meekly like a puppy.

“Hmm, right there. So, any more questions?” The now fully erect wings gave a cursory flap.

“When were you going to tell me Scootaloo would be having friends over this weekend?”

And there went that wingboner.

Author's Note

You might notice the sudden tonal shift, but... keep in mind the prologue started with an extreme situation. Also keep in mind the sleepover story and the prologue started off as two separate stories, it just seemed like a waste not to combine them, given the similarities.

Lots of exposition, because I have different reasons for Scootaloo's lack of flight per story. Most of them give her a chance to overcome it, obviously.

And yeah, Octavia is arrogant. That's not going to lead to anything, is it?

Scootaloo's Not-Quite Aunt

“Look, I don’t see what the big deal is.” Vinyl flapped her summoned wings in annoyance as she went back and forth in the living room, fetching her keys to stuff in the bag.

Octavia didn’t let up her disapproving gaze one bit. “You know full well what the big deal is, Vinyl. I have a schedule to keep. I have rules and regulations that must be followed.”

“And they will be followed. With three little fillies running around the house. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a train to catch.”

“You said it wasn’t for another two hours.” Octavia narrowed her eyes.

“Maybe I want to get there early, like you always tell me.” Vinyl smiled petulantly.

“Are you two fighting over schedules again?” Scootaloo groaned.

Octavia looked down. Good thing she’d deflated that wingboner when she had, because Scootaloo was home early. “No, dear, just a little miscommunication."

“Anyway, I’m off to the big city. You two don’t tear down the place while I’m gone, now.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Please, Vinyl. You know I never try to do your job.”

“Say hi to grandpa Zee for me!” Scootaloo called out as her aunt waved them goodbye.

“Really now, if you’re not going to call Mister Pieces by his full name, at least call him ‘grandpa Zed,’ Scoots?” Octavia remarked.

“Sorry.” Scootaloo smiled sheepishly. “Umm, you know about the sleepover?”

“I certainly do now. I thought you’d know better than to go behind my back.”

“But aunt Vinyl said I should wait to tell you, that it’d be best if she did it.”

“I’m sure she did. Now my entire schedule is just ruined.” Octavia planted a hoof on her forehead and groaned. “Unh, when are your friends arriving?”

“They can be here around five.” Scootaloo's ears drooped in embarrassment.

Octavia glanced towards the clock. “Then I’d say they are late. What’s keeping them?”

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow at the mare. “They’re coming over tomorrow?”

“Oh.” Octavia’s mood lightened at that. “Right, that’s a horse of a different colour, then. If they don’t arrive until tomorrow, that’s just perfect.”

“You’re not mad?” Scootaloo’s ears perked.

“Of course not. I was just worried what I’d be doing with the three of you.” Octavia flashed her a smile that settled in the awkward regions between 'I'm harmless' and 'Run fast, run far'.

Scootaloo winced at the sound of that sentiment. “So what are you going to do with the three of us?”

Octavia shrugged casually. “I’m sure I can work out something on the fly. I can plan for tomorrow. For now, I think you need a bath. You went walnut picking, I take it?”

“How did you know?” The filly frowned.

“You smell of apples, which is what walnut leaves smell like, you’ve got brown stains on your back, possibly from walnut peels.” Octavia plucked a little something from Scootaloo’s tail with her mouth. “And you have a walnut tree branch stuck in your tail.”

“Eheh…” Scootaloo smiled nervously at her caretaker.

“Make sure you scrub any bit that’s had a peel on it, darling. Walnut peels make golden brown stains, and that clashes with your coat.”

“I know, I know,” came the reply from inside the bathroom. The reply came with a mild ‘thud’ sound.

“Are you all right, Scootaloo?” Octavia leaned in to put her ear closer to the door.

“Just one little spot I can’t quite reach…”

Octavia rolled her eyes and walked in, before taking the washcloth and scrubbing the gold stains off the filly’s fur. She didn’t press into the skin too much, not wanting to hurt the girl.

Unfortunately, getting so close to her in the bath tub did reveal one minor detail.

“You’re losing your feathers again, you know.”

The filly sighed. She hung her head. “Gonna be another one of those nights, I guess. You-you’re going to have to put that stuff on me. And I might wake you up at night.”

Octavia sighed as she got the showerhead to rinse off the little one. “Don’t worry about it, dear. I’ll just have to make sure you’re nice and relaxed before you get to bed, won’t I?”

The little pegasus pony clambered out and let herself get dried off by the mare. “Doesn’t work. I am relaxed when I go to bed.”

“Uh huh,” Octavia noted, rubbing the girl’s back dry, “and I presume that’s why your back feels like steel wrapped in cotton, is it?”

Scootaloo winced. “That bad, huh?”

Octavia shook her head at that. Scootaloo was quite the athlete, even if it didn’t show that much. Her musculature was tight all around her midsection, and her back felt hard to the touch. She wasn’t really in any pain, but she’d gotten used to such a level of exercise her body had just turned rigid in places.

“It’s not that bad, you just need a little adjusting, that’s all. I’m sure if you learn to soften up a bit, you’ll sleep like a rose.”

“Don’t you mean ‘sleep like a baby’?”

“Have you ever heard what babies consider sleeping, darling?”

Silence fell. Octavia was always pretty clever like that. “That’s all the bits you can’t reach. You dry the rest of yourself off while I get the blow-dryer.”

Scootaloo quickly got to work as she sniffed the unfamiliar lavender scent of her fur. Most of the time she smelled sweaty or sticky, depending on what she’d been doing with her friends. She just wasn’t the type of girl who spent time trying to smell nice or even look nice. Yet she had looked pretty good in that flower filly dress at the wedding, even with her messy mane. And her belly kind of looked like it was used to corsets, even though she’d rather eat worms than wear one of those things.

She looked all right, but she wasn’t a pretty girl, and that was it. It never bothered her, at least, not a lot.

Still, Octavia didn’t spend that much time on her looks, and she always looked good. “Something wrong, Scoots?”

“Not really. I guess it’s just weird, you know? Me not being related to you and all. You’re nice, and I don’t like being a drag.” She closed her eyes as the jet of hot air hit her hair.

Octavia smiled. “Really now, how long have we been under the same roof?”

The filly raised an eyebrow in thought, letting the mare go over every little bit of wetness to get her mane in order. “A little over a year, I guess?”

Octavia nodded. “And how often have you given me a reason to be mad at you? How often have I had to yell at you?”

That got the patented Cutie Mark Crusader ‘That looks painful’ grimace. “That depends how far you wanna remember.”

The musician turned the girl around to get her tail dried off and styled the same way. “Never, Scootaloo, never.”

Scootaloo winced and blushed. “What about all the crusading? You really don’t feel mad about me poisoning my teacher or getting that gossip column?”

Octavia sat down and turned to face her. “Those are accidents, and they happen. You make mistakes, but you’re not mean. You have standards, which is more than I can say for some of your classmates. Now, if you were a little brat who whined over every little thing, I would get mad at you sometimes. If you ever broke the rules I set up clearly and repeatedly, I would be angry with you and I'd be forced to punish you. But you’re not, and you don’t, so I have no reason to.”

Scootaloo's damp wings unfurled, flapping in excitement before stopping to stand erect as they usually did. “You really mean that?”

She gave the girl an encouraging smile, flicking that tail to make sure it was nice and softened up. “Of course I do. You’ve got a lot of spirit and energy, and I’m sure one day you’ll find something perfect to channel it into. And if not, I’ll find something for you myself.”

Scootaloo chuckled softly. “Thanks. Guess I am being a little silly.”

“Then you’d best be careful, for the silliness is catchy,” Octavia joked, “what say you we help ourselves to some chocolate milk and muffins?” She switched off the blow dryer and stowed it before exiting with the filly in tow.

Scootaloo squeed at that. “You’re sure that’s okay? Won’t my mom… you know…”

“Want you to eat something healthier? You’ve been going all around town all day. Your muscles could do with some quick sugar. And besides, they’re fruit muffins.”

Those light and sweet Canterlot dinners were one thing Scootaloo and Vinyl had never minded about living with Octavia. Granted, they usually only got them when they’d had a big lunch, and oddly no one in the house ever put on weight from those sweets.

Scootaloo didn’t understand it, but she did understand that this habit was directly linked her own candy consumption. Octavia always checked the cookie jar, and Scootaloo had never dared to try and see if the mare had rigged it somehow. She never snuck any candy into her diet, simply because she got enough sweet stuff at home. It just wasn’t worth risking.

Scootaloo yawned as the action movie came to a close. The good guys had won, and they had done so with explosions, which was all the girl really cared for.

“Time for bed, dear,” Octavia started, “go brush your teeth and I’ll get the salve ready.”

Scootaloo yawned. She was tired, as one would be after an hour and a half of unicorns trying to shoot each other with flame and thunder. “Okay.”

As Octavia moved up and into the girl’s room, she sniffed the air. She’d kept the window open for a good part of the day, and with good reason. She sniffed the bed, noting that the odour of filly sweat hadn’t pervaded the fibres just yet. Taking the salve from the nightstand, Octavia greased up her hooves with a thoughtful sigh.

Scootaloo trotted in, already twitching slightly at the building itch.

“Just lie down, darling. Let me know if it gets uncomfortable.”

The girl spread herself over the bed and nodded as those thick hooves started pressing into her back, a slight chill starting to spread as the salve was spread. She wriggled in place, relaxing under the gentle hooves. “There’s another spot on my right wing, right-right there.” She suppressed a groan as those Earth pony hooves rubbed over the itching spot.

Octavia started going in circles over that hard back, looking for the spots of muscle and sinew to unwind. “That doesn’t tickle, does it?”

“No.” Scootaloo blushed as she went limp. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“I had some practice with a friend, remember?” Octavia started rubbing along the filly’s ribs. “And since you need to relax a little, I might as well keep going until you do, no?”

“Hmm.” The girl’s eyes started drifting shut. “That’s okay.”

Octavia perked her ears, listening for the girl's breath. “Feeling all right still, Scoots?”

Scootaloo’s eyes started fluttering open and closed, and she found her thoughts slowing down a notch. “Yeah, just… huh-heavy all of a sudden.”

“That’s a good sign, isn’t it?” Octavia cooed as she kept up her administrations.

“Uh… good,” she managed to sigh before her eyes fell completely shut. The excitement of the day -- and possibly the backlog of a week or two – had finally caught up to her.

“Good girl.” Octavia gave the length of her back one final gentle rub before getting her T-shirt. It was at least two sizes too big, one of Vinyl’s spare shirts from some band’s grand tour. Vinyl swore it would be worth a fortune in a few years, but for now it just kept her little niece warm at night.

She slowly slipped the girl’s front hooves in it, then pulled it over her head with her mouth. The filly stirred in her slumber, but she was too tired to really move. Then Octavia pulled the blankets nice and cosy over that lithe, limp body. The blanket slowly moved up and down, and the filly underneath smiled. Scootaloo sighed. “Good night.”

“Good night, my little pony. And don’t worry about tomorrow. I’ll have a perfect day planned out.”

And with that, she switched off the light and let the pegasus pony drift off to dreamland.

Author's Note

Well, that wasn't ominous at all, was it?

One of the main jokes in this fic, the biggest punchline, nearly didn't make it in in its current form. It's a blink-and-you-miss-it thing, but I had to set up the joke in this chapter, and veteran readers may already know what the joke is. But don't worry, it'll still be funny when the punchline lands. I hope.

Apparently I can't put enough disclaimers on this freaking thing: DO NOT READ CHAPTER 4 IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM. CHAPTER 4 IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART;

I swear, ever since Changeling Blood I can't enjoy popularity on a fic.

Octavia's Gift

Scootaloo eagerly munched down on the oats, her snout dribbling with milk once she was done. She licked it all off in one fell go, to which Octavia winced. “We really must do something about your eating and drinking habits, dear.”

Scootaloo looked around and wiped her muzzle with a napkin. “Umm… sorry? I didn’t make a mess, did I?”

Octavia inspected the kitchen table around the girl, before casually taking a sip of her tea. “No, but it’s still not a good habit for a filly to have.”

Scootaloo took her bowl off the table, as she always did, and put them in the dishwasher. Octavia noted the girl’s nervousness, the tiniest of tremors could be seen in her wings. “You know, this is the first time your friends will be coming over. You might want to consider freshening up a bit?”

“Why?” She looked herself over and sniffed under her pits to check.

“This is your home, darling. This is where you have the opportunity to make yourself as fresh and pretty as you like. It’s one thing to be a little messy after some exertion, but you wouldn’t want your friends to think you don’t make any effort at all, do you?” Octavia kept her voice steady, but her eyes bored into the filly.

Scootaloo suppressed a shiver. “Umm… okay. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do for that, though.”

Much to the girl’s surprise, Octavia cracked a smile. “I thought you might say that. That’s why I got you a little present.”

Scootaloo jumped up in excitement. “Really? What kind of present?”

Octavia got up from her seat with a little blue box in her hooves and pointed to the stairs. “You’ll want to see this in a full length mirror, darling.”

Excited, Scootaloo darted up and started jumping up and down in front of the mirror that was placed just to the left of the top of the stairs. Octavia slowly followed her, walking on her hind legs as she was used to. Scootaloo looked up in the mirror to the mare behind her. She looked so big, walking about on only her hind legs. She was big all around, really, but Scootaloo knew well enough it wasn’t due to any fat on her body. Octavia just had thick limbs and with her own experiences in watching athletes -- or acting like one – she could tell the mare hid a lot of strength behind her calm exterior. “Close your eyes, darling.”

With her jumping stopped, Scootaloo smiled and closed her eyes. She felt something go around her neck, something cold and metallic. It fit loosely, but once she heard the ‘click’ she knew it wouldn’t just fall off.

“Now open them.”

When Scootaloo opened her eyes, she did a double take. Octavia had gotten her a necklace, as she’d guessed, but not the kind of necklace she’d been expecting. A flexible metal strip went around her neck, the silver contrasted on her orange fur. The shine of the metal made her think it really was silver, but that just wasn’t possible. Octavia would never get her something that expensive, not even for her birthday.

Not because Octavia wouldn’t get her any presents, mind, but because Octavia knew that kind of present was mostly wasted on the girl. She’d be far happier with some CD’s, or even a book, if the topic was to her liking.

Although, if Scootaloo had to be perfectly frank, that necklace did look good on her. Right above her collarbone, a single black gem sat, a pure smoky quartz that seemed to radiate its blackness.

Scootaloo’s heart skipped a beat. Such a simple thing, just this one little thing, and she looked like a proper noblefilly. She could parade around with it in Canterlot, or she could show it off to Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. She might wear it to some fancy work party her parents would take her to, or she might show it off to Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. Showing this thing off to Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon sounded like a really good idea right now.

Scootaloo just kept on staring at the reflection. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

Octavia smirked and reached into the blue box, fetching a small black remote. “That’s quite all right, darling. I’ll be telling you what to say from now on.”

Scootaloo wanted to turn around to ask what she meant by that, but her head wouldn’t turn. She tried to speak, but her tongue refused to move and her jaw wouldn’t obey her commands. She tried to walk, flap her wings, start blinking quickly to give any sort of signal something was wrong, but nothing came. She just stood there, frozen. The collar slowly tightened until it sat snugly against her fur. It held fast, and her body had become a statue.

What’s going on? Why can’t I move?

And why does that gem suddenly look purple, like my eyes?

Octavia flashed her a wicked grin. “Now follow me, dear, and be careful you don’t fall. You wouldn’t want to dislodge your control collar.”

Moving down the stairs, Scootaloo took stock of what was going on. She moved slowly, mechanically, exactly like Octavia commanded. On her own will, she couldn’t move anything in her body, no matter how frantically her thoughts rushed through her brain.

Octavia stood before the girl in the kitchen and grabbed a notepad from the box. She let her eyes wander over it and chuckled. “Oh, my, I really must do business with these fine gentlecolts again. They do think of everything.”

Scootaloo didn’t reply. She couldn’t respond. Octavia took a moment of reading to notice. “Right then, Scootaloo, what you are wearing is a control collar. It makes it so you cannot disobey any orders I give you. You’re more than welcome to try and resist its effects, but I think you’ll find this is quite impossible. Your body cannot fight its control, and your mind is trapped.”

Octavia took great care to read the note aloud. “Listen carefully and remember these things as the new truths of your life. From now on, you will be unable to speak of your collar in any situation. You will not be able to do anything that reveals its control, or even speak of anything related to the collar or my control over you. Whenever you are in sight or hearing range of another pony, or if I command it, you will act as your normal self would. You will be able to speak with others once I allow you, but you can only speak as if you were not wearing the collar and instead were acting normally. Any option you can think of to take it off or to communicate in any way what has happened to you will be impossible. Thinking about it will cause a sharp pain, like a lash made of ice whipping over your back, and even that pain you cannot show.”

Scootaloo screamed inside as her escape plans all yielded the sensation of lashes over her back that gave her frostbite. She couldn’t even grit her teeth or cry to show it.

Octavia kept her confident smirk up, still reading off of the note. “You also will not be able to call for help. You can no longer scream, unless a life is in direct danger. And even then, when any help arrives you will not be able to reveal the collar’s influence on you. You cannot remove the collar, you cannot even think about a way to remove the collar. It hurts to want to be free of its control. But you will be able to show what you are truly feeling when I command it so. I want you to show me how you are feeling, right now, with your voice reduced a whisper. Your face is free, the rest of you remains as is.”

Scootaloo gasped as the sharp pains shot through her body. She tried to scream, but her voice got stuck in a whisper. “O--ow. It hurts, it really hurts. W-why can’t I call for help? I want somepony to come and help me, why can’t I call?”

“Because I won’t allow it, darling. I have total control over you now, and you’re going to do exactly as I say. No more needing to adjust my schedule, no more having to wait for you to be out of the house to get some peace and quiet, it’ll be just perfect. And speaking of which, there’s one more thing I need to put in your head before we can call this a success.”

Scootaloo gulped.

Octavia put a small controller box on the floor, the remote. It had a set of buttons on it, as well as a dial. She read the note aloud again. “This is the master controller. It is the only thing that can release you. You will find it impossible to get closer to it without my command. You will simply stop whenever you are thinking of going near it, and then continue acting as your normal self, always keeping up the charade. And even if you do get close, you’ll find this object is scorching hot. When you try to reach for it, you will feel a heat. When you are a few inches off, you will feel agony. And by the time you are close enough to touch it, the searing pain will feel like your foreleg is incinerated, causing you to pass out before you can touch it. The same will happen whenever you try to get another object close to touch. The object will heat up the closer you get. You will drop anything you might use to get a grip on this remote, the pain will make sure of that. Is that clear?”

“Yes.” What? No. No, it’s not! No, please!

“Good girl. Don’t worry, I won’t be so magnanimous as to have you call me ‘mistress’, it’s not worth risking the suspicion. Still, let’s test how well you obey now. Walk towards the controller until you feel the heat, and extend your right front hoof towards it.”

Scootaloo winced as she did it. Her hoof extended towards the thing holding her captive, the imaginary heat already feeling quite painful.

Octavia grinned. “Put your hoof a little closer, dear.”

Despite herself, Scootaloo obeyed. It burned, hotter than anything she could remember. Little flashes of sunburn and walking over a hot beach on a summer’s day danced across her mind as she inched that hoof closer. “Please don’t. It hurts.”

The mare shook her head, clearly gauging the distance. “A little closer, still.”

“Aahhh…” she whimpered, tears flowing freely in agony. Her head swam, and her body went weak all over.

Octavia picked the thing up, and the pain subsided. She came closer with a paper tissue in her hoof. “There, that’s much better. Now, let me just clean up your tears. Show me a smile, darling, act casual.”

Scootaloo felt her face comply, the pain still at the back of her mind but her body unable to call out for help. Octavia cleaned off her tears. Just like that, there was no trace of the agony she’d just suffered at the hooves of the mare she’d been entrusted to.

“You are just perfect, Scootaloo. And now you’re going to walk out and head to Sugarcube Corner for me, and buy some donuts for breakfast.” Octavia put her purse with some bits on Scootaloo’s wing. “And you might as well get a little sweet treat, whichever one you feel like. With the commands now embedded in your head, along with the settings the gem is set to, you shouldn’t have any trouble acting normal. So, off you go, then.”

Scootaloo found herself bounding off with a smile on her face, the same sort of smile she’d wear if she knew she could get some sweets. She was still screaming inside, though.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Octavia called out. Scootaloo turned to look and saw her turn the dial, which made the collar produce an odd tingling sensation. “Just in case your mind wandered to it, that collar is invisible now. There will be nothing showing once you go outside. As far as the outside world is concerned, nothing is wrong with you. No one will help. No one will even know. Any questions?”

Scootaloo’s voice lowered to a whisper again, despite her best efforts. “Why?”

“Because I just can’t be bothered to have to keep my eye on you, dear. As much as I’ve learned to lie my way through Canterlot company, I don’t like sugar-coating your appalling behaviour. I had to spend the better part of an afternoon lying about you to ponies who, to me, seem rather decent. I do not intend to do that again if I can help it, but you leave me no choice. You’ve no respect for rules, you never listen to your elders and your parents are too busy compensating for leaving you in someone else’s care to give you the discipline you need. So I’m just cutting out the middle pony, really. Now, as you were.”

Just like that, she was out the door. Scootaloo didn’t look about as she donned her helmet, she just went about her usual business.

Before long, she was standing at the counter ordering donuts and a swan pastry, her favourite.

“Will that be everything, Scootaloo?” Mister Cake asked.

Help me. Please help me. Take this thing off, Octavia’s gone crazy.

I can’t move, please just take this thing off.

Pain shot through her. She’d swear she had a scar on her back by now as the whipping continued. Her back chilled and numbed, and her wings felt like they were shrivelling.

She was dying, her wings first, she was sure of it.

Pain. Pain’s good. I have to get more pain, make my face react. Come on, just reach up for it. Reach for the collar.

She thought of reaching up, but her legs didn’t move. She still felt the reaction, though. The burning cold on her back intensified. Fibre by fibre in her wing was struck by frostbite, before giving up and dying off.

Come on, just wince. Whimper, moan, groan, shed a tear, anything!

“Nope, that’s everything. Thanks, Mister Cake.” Scootaloo’s heart sank as she said it. Or it would have, if the iron grip of the collar would only allow it.

Her retreat home was sullen, at least in her mind. Her body, though, refused to show it. She was cut off, a prisoner in her own body.

Scootaloo got back and entered, right in view of several adults who’d no doubt save her in a heartbeat if she could only tell them what had happened. She jumped and nearly dropped the bag of treats when she saw the company. “Apple Bloom! Sweetie Belle! I thought you weren’t going to get here by noon.” She closed the door, not wanting to make a scene where anypony could hear.

“Octavia said we could come in. She had a present for us, see?” Apple Bloom pointed to the black gem currently around her neck.

Octavia smiled. “Indeed, and it looks fetching on you, doesn’t it? Scootaloo, what do you think? Doesn’t that look nice on your friends?”

No. Please, no. Take it off, get it off them!

“It looks great,” Scootaloo replied, gently placing the bag on the kitchen table and walking over to her friends.

“Hold on, though, the colour isn’t quite right yet. I’ll have it match your eyes.”

No.

The button was pushed, the gems changed from black to green and red to match Sweetie Belle’s and Apple Bloom’s eyes, and Scootaloo knew her friends were lost.

NO!

“No need to keep up the charade now, dear. Stand still and answer me, in your whisper.” Octavia grinned wickedly. “Do you think Applejack and Rarity will appreciate me making their sisters a little more manageable?”

“You can’t do this. Somepony will notice eventually. You can’t hide this thing forever,” Scootaloo whispered.

Octavia draped herself over the couch and furrowed her brow at that ignorant remark even as she smiled, almost amused enough to afford a chuckle. “Darling, I don’t think you understand the severity of your situation. You can’t show your predicament to anyone, anyone at all. And as for hiding it forever, you seem to think I made this contraption myself.”

The mare's words ran around in Scootaloo's head, but nothing important stuck out. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Octavia chuckled, getting up to ruffle the manes of her two latest prisoners. “Try to understand, the thing you and your friends are wearing is a special order. It is made by a company, one that makes money off this.” Octavia leaned in closer. “There are more fillies like you, more mares like me, and I don’t need to know how to hide it. They do, and they were kind enough to write some very helpful tutorials on the topic. I might even invite some of them over, let you see how other collared children live their lives. There’s quite a few applications, let me tell you. My point is, darling, that any mistakes you might hope I make have been foreseen and prepared for. This has been happening for a while now, and so far nopony has gotten caught doing it. What makes you think I should be the first?”

Scootaloo shook her head in confusion. “What about my mom and dad? I’m not going to be with you all the time, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle –“

“You and your friends don’t need to be with me all the time, dear, that’s the whole point. You just went outside, and I don’t see any outraged adults pounding down my door. I can make you act normal, and I will. As for keeping you closer, I can wait. The three of you have a wonderful set of skills, you know, and I’m sure I can find good use for them. Your parents already trust me enough to take care of you. Building a career with my help won’t even make them bat an eyelash. If nothing else… I can have a little fun with you as my servants once you’re old enough to move out of the house.”

Scootaloo’s breath came in ragged. “All this just because I don’t listen?”

Octavia opened her mouth, but didn’t reply. She put her hoof on her chin and pondered. “You know, you have a fair point there. I suppose this is a bit harsh, you’re not quite a criminal, after all. Tell you what, since you have been a good girl, I won’t make you watch as I start putting some more advanced programming into your friends’ minds. Stand up on your hind hooves for me, darling.”

Wordlessly, Scootaloo obeyed.

“As I count to three, you’ll find your head getting lighter and lighter. It’ll feel as if you are on the precipice of a great chasm, right on the edge and about to fall. I’m actually curious, would you fall backwards or forwards?”

“Please don’t,” Scootaloo pleaded.

“Nothing to worry about, Scootaloo. When you wake back up, I’ll have you all dolled up and all set for your new life with me to guide you. I’ll even start giving you some positive reinforcement, you’ll like that a lot. But in the meantime... three.”

A headrush swept over the girl. She started wobbling back and forth.

“Two.”

Vertigo hit her, and her heart started pounding.

Octavia just smirked.

“One.”

A shock went through her, a dull impact that roused her out of the control of the collar.

Dark. It’s too dark.

Scootaloo tried to move. She got her limbs to respond, but she was bound by something. The collar wasn’t holding her anymore, though.

I can move. Thank the stars, I can move. Come on, got to…

She heard a door open in the hallway. Light came out from under the crack of her door. She was in her bedroom, on the floor, in some sort of straightjacket.

All dolled up, just like she said. How long was I out?

Thundering hooves rushed to her door. Octavia swung it open and bathed the girl in blinding light with a flick of the light switch. “Scootaloo? What happened?”

Scootaloo squirmed in her restraints even as Octavia came over. She kicked and flailed as the mare got closer. “Get away from me, don’t come near me!” She croaked. Scootaloo’s throat felt dry and raw, but her eyes were certainly doing their best to compensate. She couldn’t quite scream, though, not yet.

Octavia didn’t heed the girl. She just closed the gap and started fiddling with the material holding the girl’s forelegs and wings bound. One of her kicks connected, but Octavia merely swatted it aside.

“I said: get away! Get away, don’t-“

“Shh,” Octavia cooed. “It’s all right, darling.”

Scootaloo stopped kicking once Octavia’s forelegs were around her. “W-wha…” She looked to the straightjacket that had so cruelly locked her in mere moments before.

It was just her bed sheets.

She felt her neck. There was nothing there.

She felt her chest. Her T-shirt clung to her, soaked in sweat.

Octavia got her out of the wet shirt, then pressed the girl to her chest, rubbing her mane. “Darling, your chest is absolutely pounding.” The mare reached a hoof around to pat her on the back.

Scootaloo felt the warm touch, right between her wings. She was cold as ice there, and the feeling made her shudder to her core, before the bit of warmth calmed her down. Octavia blew softly over her wings, making them spread to catch a fake wind.

She looked up at the mare holding her. “I-I don’t understand.”

Octavia kept her clutched close, rubbing to warm her chilled back up. “It was just a nightmare, Scootaloo. Whatever monsters you dreamed of, they’re gone now.”

Author's Note

No.

I know what a lot of you are going to ask, and no.

I am not writing a story where this nightmare is real. Do it yourself if you feel like it, I don't feel like it. It's too boring and too straightforward, not to mention a ripoff of some of the bigger stories in the mind control community.

So why write this chapter at all? So far, Octavia hasn't had a chance to properly show what her kindness looks like. She's been snarky, she's been helpful to Scoots, but at some point I need to establish what it looks like when Octavia lets her mask slip to provide real comfort to a distressed filly. In other words, they need to properly bond, still, and they will in the next chapter... sort of. Scootaloo also needs to have a proper reason to fear Octavia's punishments, since Octavia's never had to punish her. It becomes relevant later on, as you might expect.

Besides which, even an exposition-heavy writer like me wouldn't go through all that trouble to say Scootaloo has nightmares and then not show what those nightmares do to her. It'd be bad use of the medium.

And why a control collar? Physical violence would be too easy to identify as a nightmare, and be dissonant with the show (all villains so far had mind control of some description) while pure verbal abuse wouldn't make sense in the context. I'm basing this nightmare reflex on the idea that some animals, like rabbits and chickens (don't even think it) go completely limp when they're pinned down in a specific way, and it's believed to be a response to the threat of death. They basically lose control of their bodies. In more rational creatures, it'd be a panic reflex triggering fight-or-flight adrenalin and fear, like humans getting waterboarded. It's purely fictional here, but it has real-world roots.

So there. I know this one will most likely get the story downvote-bombed, but it's a necessary sacrifice for the plot.

The Importance of Planning

Scootaloo shivered in Octavia’s grasp. “I don’t understand. I was…”

Octavia tightened her grip and rubbed the girl’s back to warm it up. “It’s all right, dear. You just had a scare, nothing more.” She backed away for a moment when she realised how much the girl’s body was trembling. ”Goodness, you’re shaking like a leaf, though. Do you want to talk about it?”

Scootaloo winced and shook her head. “No, I don’t wanna talk about it, I don’t even wanna think about it. I just wanna forget.”

Octavia frowned. “Come now, Scootaloo, what could be so terrifying you can’t talk about it? It helps if you just face it, I won’t tell. Was it a dragon?”

“No.”

“Was it that cockatrice nightmare where you turn into stone again? Do you want me to get the brush to rub your wings warm?”

Scootaloo shook her head again. “No, it wasn’t that.”

Octavia lifted the girl’s chin up. “Then what’s gotten you in such a panic, darling? Vinyl never told me you could get it this bad, I’ve never known any pegasus with your condition that got this rattled. A strong and confident filly like you, what could shake you up like this?”

Scootaloo bit her lip. “Umm… you.”

Octavia blinked in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“I dreamed that you gave me a collar, and it made me obey everything you said. Anytime I thought about taking it off, I felt my back freeze and get hit with cold whips.” Scootaloo clenched her eyes shut to await the mare's response.

Octavia let her rubs turn to gentle strokes. “I suppose your mind would mimic what your body went through. So you dreamed I made you a slave, eh? Did I make you carry all my heavy instruments and call you names?”

“Not really, no.” Scootaloo looked away.

Octavia tilted her head to try and look the girl in the eye. “Did I make fun of you, then?”

“Uh uh.” Scootaloo's wings folded tightly against her sides.

The frown on Octavia’s face turned to a look of confusion. “So what did I do to get you so upset?”

Scootaloo winced. “You hated me. You said I don’t listen, that I mess up your schedules, and the only way you’d get peace around here is when I’m not around.”

Octavia let off a sound that was somewhere in between a sigh and a chuckle. “Oh, silly little goose. Why can’t you just dream of dragons, like a normal filly? You don’t honestly think that would ever happen, do you?”

Scootaloo shrugged. “But it’s true, isn’t it? You just spend all day in your room or in the kitchen, you’re always working on stuff, you hardly ever talk to me. I’ve lived with you for a year now and I don’t even know you.”

Octavia smiled softly and pulled the filly up onto her lap. “Scootaloo, do you think I have a real problem with you being around the house? Just you living here, following the rules?”

Scootaloo shrugged. “I don’t know. You never said so.”

“Exactly. When I have a problem with somepony, I tell them, calmly and to their face. I do not have a problem with you, and if I did, you’d be the first to know. If you must know, I think you have a lot of spirit, and a good heart. You need rules, certainly, but there’s no reason to lock you up in any way. I’d never forgive myself if I let a talent like yours go to waste.” She ruffled the girl's mane with another chuckle.

The girl winced at that. “You really think I’m talented? But I don’t even have a cutie mark yet.”

“Not all talent is stamped on a pony’s flank, darling.” Octavia picked up Scootaloo and put her on her back. She sniffed the air and clearly didn’t like what she smelled. “Now, your bed is positively soaked with sweat, so how about you spend the rest of the night with me, and we’ll change your bed sheets in the morning, let your friends sleep in a clean bed.”

Scootaloo gently clung to Octavia, much like she had after her trip to the hospital. “But you said I’m not allowed in your room, it’s a rule.”

“Good of you to remember. And do you remember why that is a rule?” Octavia smiled petulantly, wide enough for Scootaloo to see from her vantage point.

“Because you have a lot of fragile and expensive stuff in your room and I don’t want to accidentally break anything.”

Octavia walked into the hallway, before switching off the lights in Scootaloo’s room. “Exactly. So you just stay still on my back like that, and you won’t risk breaking anything. I’ll carry you out of bed in the morning, and the rule will not have been broken.”

Scootaloo smiled as she entered the room on Octy’s back. Beyond the door, the first thing she saw was the desk which held a wide array of paperwork, along with a paperweight that was basically a crystal ball sitting on a pedestal. Octavia’s cello leaned next to the desk, the baton or stick (she wasn’t sure what one called that sort of thing) ready and waiting besides it. Judging from how it was set up, she guessed Octavia liked to keep her instrument close while she worked on new songs, or just to ease off stress when dealing with paperwork.

Octavia turned towards her bed, which was placed with one side against the wall at the far side of the room and flanked by book racks. She lowered her head to let Scootaloo slip in and take her place close to the wall, then got into bed herself. She took a deep breath and looked Scootaloo in the eye. “Are you comfortable, Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo wriggled and rubbed her face against the pillow. It felt more velvety than her own, and it had the mare’s perfumed scent around. She looked at her and only now noticed how thin Octavia’s neck looked without that bow tie. “Yeah, I’m comfortable. Thanks.”

Octavia put a foreleg on Scootaloo’s shoulder and nudged her gently. “If I hear you squealing in the night or if you stir too much, I’ll give you a little shake to wake you up. Is that all right?”

Scootaloo nodded, finally realising how bleary her eyes felt. “Sounds perfect.”

“And darling, we are going to have to talk about taking you to the spa sometime. You are carrying far too much tension in your muscles, that can’t be healthy. You need a massage, or at the very least some sauna time to relax, otherwise you're going to get worse.” Octavia lay her head on the pillow and yawned.

Scootaloo grimaced. “But I can’t go to the spa, it’s too… frou frou. I can reach behind and give myself a backrub just fine. I stretch every day, just like the doctor said.”

“I’m sure you’re quite flexible, Scoots, but that is not enough. There’s no need to be frightened of a simple spa visit. Even athletes get massages, especially athletes. I’m sure Rainbow Dash has had to get some, I can’t imagine her physician never ordered it.” Octavia rolled her eyes at the thought.

Scootaloo’s ears flattened. “I guess, maybe. I just don’t want to be seen there. Ponies might think I’m turning into a girly girl.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s no arguing the matter. I’m going to tell your mother, and I’m sure she’ll agree when she gets a good feel of your musculature. I’m taking you to the spa, and that’s final.” Octavia gave the girl some gentle pats on the shoulder.

Scootaloo grunted, resigned to her fate. “But what if ponies see me? What if they laugh?”

Octavia chuckled and gave the girl a final rub on her mane. “Then I guess I’ll just have to pretend I’m dragging you along, and you can say boring old Octavia insisted.”

Scootaloo yawned in the darkness. “Really? You’d do that?”

Another chuckle, and even in the dark, Scootaloo could tell Octavia had a grin on her face. “Canterlot pony, darling. I learned how to pretend before I learned how to talk.”

Scootaloo woke up feeling warm and heavy all over. The wall that greeted her as she opened her eyes told her she wasn’t in her room anymore.

Oh, right. That nightmare.

The grey foreleg covering her told her she wasn’t alone in the bed, either. She noted the damp spot on her back again. The ointment gave her a chill on normal nights, but she felt pretty good now. The warmth from Octavia’s body was more than enough to compensate, and Scootaloo relished it for just another moment before wriggling and yawning.

“Good morning, Scootaloo.” Octavia smiled at the girl. “Sleep well this time?”

“Yeah, thanks. I feel a lot better. ” Scootaloo slowly rose up under the covers while Octavia got out of bed and stretched out, standing on her hind legs again. She plopped her front hooves down on the ground and rubbed the drowsiness from her eyes, before leaning down and presenting her back.

“All right, then, on you get.”

With that, Scootaloo slowly clambered onto the mare’s back and held still as she was escorted out. She took in her surroundings again as they went, just so she’d know.

Desk right in view upon entering, cello leaning against said desk, both in a spot that caught the morning light beautifully. That big crystal ball paperweight made for a nice piece of decoration, too. Big trunk under the window, closet near the wall where the door was, and a few posters that were clearly a gift from aunt Vinyl. Though, to be fair, with the surprises Octavia had given her so far, it wouldn’t have shocked Scootaloo at all if the mare really did turn out to be a fan of the Rolling Boulders or Metallicolt.

Wait, didn’t those guys do orchestral songs for some of their gigs? “Did you ever play for those guys?” Scootaloo nodded towards the posters as they went. She hopped off once Octavia had gotten her out of the room.

Octavia looked back towards the posters. “I haven’t played for them in pony, no, but I’ve certainly worked for them. Why do you ask?”

“I just thought you were into classical stuff.” The filly looked away, nervous.

Octavia merely held her head high with her usual pride. “Oh, I am. But there are a lot of things most ponies do not know about me, dear. I like to keep my professional life and my personal life separated, if I can.”

“Oh, sorry. I was just curious.” Scootaloo flashed her a sheepish smile, one she'd had a lot of practice in.

Octavia grinned mischievously. “How about I keep it as a surprise for now, and I’ll explain when your friends arrive? Think they can keep a secret?”

Scootaloo nodded eagerly. “Sure.”

“Perfect. Now, you go and pull the sheets off your bed, and open the window to get some fresh air in. I’ll go fix us up some breakfast, and afterwards you’re free to go see your friends until lunch, how does that sound?”

Scootaloo shrugged. “Sounds good. I'll try not to get in your way too much.”

Octavia stopped at the top of the stairs. “Don’t feel bad about it, Scootaloo, I just need a little time to set up the things I have planned for today. Trust me, you and your friends will enjoy it.”

Scootaloo turned to head towards her room, suppressing a nervous gulp. “Thanks.”

The air in Scootaloo’s room was filled with the scent of terror. A tiny twitch on her back reminded her of the night’s frights, and of the many others that come before them, though last night did set a new record. The salve she had to put on her back left her back wet and cold, there was no fixing that. Still, sleeping next to Octavia had alleviated that problem somewhat. Maybe if I started sleeping with one of those warm bags of water next to me, that might help.

Scootaloo opened the window, then moved to grab hold of her sheets with her teeth. She bunched them all up, leaving her bed covered only by a mattress. With another glance, she decided to throw the pillowcase in the bunch, too. She popped her head out of the doorway. “Do I just throw them down the stairs?”

“No, leave them outside your door. You wouldn’t want to hit anything.”

Scootaloo’s wings bunched up at the reply. Come on, I’m not that clumsy. She moved to the stairs and looked down. At the bottom, there was a small table with a tulip-filled vase on it. Okay, I might hit that if I’m not careful, but still.

She trotted down the stairs and sat down at the kitchen table for breakfast. Octavia slid the plate under her nose. “Tomato omelette with rye bread.”

Scootaloo dug in with abandon. The egg melted on her tongue, while the bread was just dry enough to dip into the juicy remains and clean up her plate.

Octavia followed suit, but ate more slowly. “Will you be doing any serious scooting today?”

Scootaloo shook her head, before gulping down another bite with a sip of orange juice. “No, we were planning to check out the new comic books that came in this week.”

Octavia smiled. “So you won’t need another sugar hit ‘till lunch, good. I take it you’ll be getting the new Animal Mare comic, then? You have the bits for it?”

Scootaloo nodded solemnly. “Yup, still have some left from when we helped feed the pigs.”

“And after that?” The mare bit off another small slice of bread covered in yellow eggy goodness.

“After that we’re just gonna read some of our stuff in the park, then head here, if that’s okay. I told them we’d get here by five, gives us time to read the longer stuff.” Scootaloo wolfed down her last bite of bread covered in what remained of two eggs’ worth of omelette with cherry tomato slices worked in. She looked across the table and noted Octavia wasn’t even halfway her meal.

Octavia stared at her blankly. “Well, go on, then, brush your teeth and freshen up if you need to. What are you planning to do for lunch?”

“Umm, we were thinking of getting lunch at Daisy’s.” Scootaloo’s ears flattened, embarrassed. She realised she hadn’t quite asked permission for that yet, either.

Octavia looked away pensively. “All right, make sure you eat on time, then, and get a table outside. I’ll be out of the house as well, gathering some things for tonight, but I’ll try not to bump into you. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” Octavia winked at the girl.

Scootaloo blushed. “Eheh, thanks.”

The mare took another bite of her omelette and held up a hoof. “Though do make sure you get to Daisy’s in time, darling. If I don’t see you there around noon, I’m going to start looking for you.”

“I’ll make sure we get there on time.” Scootaloo went to the bathroom to spray something on her, anything to mask the smell of fear sweat would do. A look in the mirror told her a slight run with a brush wouldn’t be out of order, either.

A few brushes over her teeth and mane, as well as her tail, and she was good to go.

Scootaloo jumped up in excitement as she exited the comic book store with her friends in tow. “I can’t wait to see how Animal Mare beats the God who Trots.”

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow. “I dunno, Scootaloo, I don’t think Animal Mare is all that violent. They might just wind up talking things out.”

“Talk things out? It’s a superhero against a supervillain, of course they’ll fight.”

“But didn’t you say that story was different from most?”

Scootaloo shrugged. “Not that different. She’s still a superhero with cool powers. She still does crazy stuff all the time, and she’s not boring and perfect like Supermare.”

Sweetie Belle fiddled with her saddlebag for a moment to keep her own graphic novels – oddly, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo preferred to call the things ‘comic books,’ whereas Sweetie Belle and all the older patrons of the comic book store called them ‘graphic novels’ -- tucked away safely, before giving a little sprint to catch up. “I still don’t get how absorbing powers from other animals works. Wouldn’t that make her a changeling, taking powers from other creatures?”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t take anything, she can just copy what they can do when they’re close by. It’s like a force field, except every animal has one and only Animal Mare can feel it and use it. How is that not cool? An Earth pony that can get the speed of an ant, that can breathe underwater if there are fish around, that can fly with no wings -“ She covered her mouth with a hoof.

Apple Bloom smirked. “Sure, but only if there’s flying birds around, right? Wouldn’t wanna get chicken powers.”

Sweetie Belle interrupted whatever retort Scootaloo might launch. “Chicken powers would still be neat, wouldn’t they? They can dig things out, and run fast. Remember that time Fluttershy’s chickens broke out and we tried to get them back into their coop? You’d never catch a pony with chicken powers. They’d be like a stunt pony.”

Apple Bloom bit her lip for the slightest moment, but tried to hide it from Scootaloo. It didn’t work. Still, she kept up the charade. “I suppose that’s true. And Animal Mare’s got a family to go home to as well, right? That must be funny sometimes. Or boring, I guess that depends on the story.”

Scootaloo scowled. “You mean like your Pioneer Journals? How boring can you get?”

Apple Bloom huffed at the presumption. “Hey, historical comics are not boring. Besides, I just wanna get up to speed for when they start printin’ the ones about my ancestors. It’s no different from you and your Rainbow Dash comic.”

Scootaloo threw her head back and groaned loud enough for the whole street to hear. “For the last time: Double Sonic Rainboom was a PSA and a collector’s item. I never said I liked how it made her look. I mean, really? Gremlins grounding her?”

Sweetie Belle groaned as the argument unfolded. The walk from the comic book shop to Daisy’s Diner had become a veritable trip through the trenches as their friendship had grown. If ever there was something Apple Bloom and Scootaloo could argue over, it was comic books. Apple Bloom kept hers neatly stowed away in a thick trunk that wasn’t even in her own room, Scootaloo kept hers in boxes right under her bed, where they could collect dust.

At least, that’s what Scootaloo told them. She neglected to mention the plastic protectors her mother had gotten her to protect her collection, if only for the sake of her image.

It wasn’t just in how they treated their graphic novels, either. Apple Bloom knew every pony hero that ever existed, Scootaloo knew every superhero that didn’t, barring the ones that weren’t meant for young fillies, that is. Apple Bloom took pride in knowing her stories had actually happened, Scootaloo couldn’t wait to try out what kind of stories she could make happen. There was just no way of getting from point A to point B without them feeling the urge to one-up one another in terms of taste.

Apple Bloom turned to Sweetie Belle. “What did you get, Sweetie Belle? That romance thingie again?”

Sweetie Belle blushed. “It’s not romance, it’s educational.”

Apple Bloom’s smirk returned. “Sure, educatin’ on how to kiss a colt and how to look pretty.”

Sweetie Belle huffed and gave her curly mane a slight tap to make sure it was still in order. “Well, it might come in handy sometime.”

Scootaloo smirked along with Apple Bloom. “Uhuh. And I’ll bet you reading that has nothing to do with one of the boys looking like Rumble, right?”

Sweetie Belle grinned. “Of course not. Everypony knows Rumble likes you better.”

Scootaloo blushed furiously. “He does not. How would you even know? He’s not in our class.”

Sweetie Belle held her high in triumph as Daisy’s Diner came into view. “No, but he’s always looking down at you when he’s flying over Ponyville. I think he might want you to join him sometime.”

“Yeah, right. Very funny.” Scootaloo’s wings folded on her sides, her head hung low for a moment.

Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you don’t believe me? Look up.”

The girls all looked straight up above them. They briefly saw a grey shape go from a straight and steady course to veering off sharply and crashing into a stray cloud. A dark-furred stallion followed it and pulled it out with some effort.

Scootaloo shrugged and nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Okay, maybe he wants to hang out with me sometime. Not like it matters. What’s he gonna do, give me flying lessons?”

Silence fell as they reached the diner. As usual on a Saturday, Daisy’s was already getting crowded with pony folk from Canterlot and Manehattan, tourists there to check out what the food capitol of Equestria had to offer. The girls checked the menus, then Scootaloo checked the time.

Eleven o’clock sharp. Octavia’s probably around here somewhere by now.

They walked past the gate, sat down at a table outside, and waited for their order to be taken. Scootaloo kept her eyes on the ponies walking past the restaurant. Like clockwork, Octavia passed them by just when the waiter had taken their order.

Sweetie Belle gestured towards the mare Scootaloo was looking at. “That was her, right? Your aunt Octavia?”

Scootaloo lowered her voice and nodded. “She’s not my aunt, but yeah, that’s her.”

Apple Bloom followed Sweetie Belle’s gaze. “And she’s all right with us coming over this afternoon?”

Scootaloo shrugged. “She should be. She said it was okay.”

“Perfect. So tonight we’re gonna get our cutie marks in making music. Think a flute would look good on my flank?” Apple Bloom looked to her still blank flank.

Sweetie Belle rubbed her chin in thought. “Maybe. I think I’d rather have a piano, though, or an organ.”

Scootaloo’s ears perked. “Err, girls? I’m not so sure if we can really do that kind of thing. Octavia said she had plans for tonight.”

Sweetie Belle flashed a big smile. “That’s great! Then we can try all the instruments at your place while she does what she wants.”

Scootaloo’s lips pursed and her eyes narrowed in fear. “I don’t think that’s what she meant.”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “Lighten up, Scootaloo. It’s just a sleepover. Octavia won’t mind if we have fun, will she?”

Sweetie Belle looked at Scootaloo intently. “Will she mind, Scootaloo?”

The pegasus filly thought it over for a moment. “No, I guess you’re right. Octavia won’t mind if we try and get our cutie marks tonight.”

A few blocks away, Octavia opened the door to her house. She stopped when a sudden shudder ran over her back, sending a chill from the base of her tail to the very tips of her ears.

Oh my. I wonder what that was for?

Author's Note

In case you did not get the numerous memos in my blogs: I'm a chaoist. If that doesn't ring any bells, that's the same thing Grant Morrisson got into, hence the Animal Man reference.

Kids calling comic strips 'comic books' while others call them 'graphic novels' is not intended to say these two terms are interchangeable. The girls do get graphic novels, they just don't realise that's what they're called when the books are that big.

Double Sonic Rainboom is supposed to refer to the Rainbow Dash comic IDW made a while back. I'm considering this as a PSA on pegasus magic exhaustion, which exists as a comic book in Equestria. Minor spoiler: this will also be the case in the Quorum Sensing sequel. So that thing with the gremlins did not happen in this or that continuity, but the story exists as a story in a story, basically.

I swear, one day I will get around to writing a Scootaloo pairing that is not with Rumble or an OC. I have a colt in mind, and I'm surprised it's not a thing yet, even.

Laying Down the Law

Scootaloo took a deep breath to steady herself. She opened the door and gestured for her friends to come in. “Welcome to my place.”

There was a distinct motion of air and a small dust cloud next to her for a moment, and next thing she knew Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle were inside and their bags were thrown on the floor. Apple Bloom fawned at the fancy paintings on the wall, her eyes darting from wall to ceiling. “I’m gonna get my cutie mark in playing the violin, like my cousin Fiddlesticks!”

Sweetie Belle joined Apple Bloom in the jumping and rambling. “And I’m going to get my cutie mark in firing cannons!”

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow. “Cannon fire is not music.”

Sweetie Belle pointed a hoof towards the Earth pony filly. “It is too. I heard it in that Tschaicudsky piece. And everypony knows Tschaicudsky made good music.”

Scootaloo, meanwhile, was standing in the doorway, mouth agape. She looked at her friends starting their argument. She slowly closed the door, but remained quiet as she deposited the girls’ bags of comic books on a nearby couch.

Is that really what we look like when we get excited?

Octavia came out of the kitchen to find the two girls arguing with each other regarding music tastes. Scootaloo walked over to them to try and defuse the situation. “Well, they do use fireworks in Wonderbolts demos, so it’s kinda like music.”

Apple Bloom grimaced. “Really? You think cannons are instruments, too? But if you’ve got a cannon for a cutie mark, then that doesn’t make you a musician, does it?”

“It would if you got it making music with the cannon.” Sweetie Belle smiled triumphantly, pleased to have found the logical conclusion to their debate.

Octavia placed a hoof to her forehead and closed her eyes to try and block out the scene unfolding. “Girls?”

Scootaloo shook her head. “Look, that doesn’t matter anyway, there aren’t any cannons in the house.”

Sweetie Belle looked her pensively. “Then where did you get the one we shot ourselves out of that one time?”

“I know a guy.” Scootaloo grinned.

Octavia, whilst silently wishing Vinyl had never introduced the girl to her pyrotechnical assistent, kept on rubbing her forehead. “Girls?”

Sweetie Belle stomped a hoof on the ground. “That’s not fair! You’re going to get your cutie marks playing music, but I won’t get mine firing a cannon just because you don’t have one!”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “I really don’t think firing cannons qualifies you as a musician.”

Sweetie Belle pouted. “Maybe we should ask Pinkie Pie. She does a lot of singing, and she’s got a cannon.”

Scootaloo grimaced. “Don’t fire cannons in the house!”

Octavia put the hoof that had been on her forehead on the ground. The shouting of the girls intensified, their argument heated, the situation was getting out of control.

Octavia closed her eyes. The girls noticed a sudden drop in the atmospheric pressure, as if something had sucked in a large volume of air.

“GIRLS!”

The three stood perfectly still, eyes fixed on the mare in front of them. The shout had come like a blow to the chest, felt more than heard.

Octavia sat down on her haunches and straightened her bow tie before continuing. “Thank you. Now, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, you might not remember me from your little hospital trip the other day, but I am Octavia Philharmonica. I live with Scootaloo’s aunt Vinyl, I look after Scootaloo, and I’ll be in charge for your little sleepover tonight. Pleased to formally make your acquaintance.” She extended a hoof for the girls to shake.

Apple Bloom carefully accepted and shook it. “Err, yeah, that bit from the hospital’s still a little fuzzy. Pleased to meetcha.”

Sweetie Belle took the hoof and shook it with a blush. “Hi. Sorry we were so loud, that kind of happens sometimes.”

Octavia smiled. “I’m sure it does. Now, I’m not an unreasonable mare, but you are going to be in my house and my responsibility tonight. As such, I will expect a few things from you.”

Scootaloo gulped. Octavia’s calm demeanour did nothing to hide the power behind her voice, or the intimidation of those big forelegs of hers.

“For starters, you are not going to be playing any instruments tonight. We do not have that many instruments lying around, and we certainly do not have any cannons of any description. We do not run around at random in this house, we walk. Possibly we trot. If we do not, we risk breaking some of the fragile things we keep around for decoration. We do not jump on the furniture because the furniture is not designed to withstand jumping and may break. We also do not shout at one another, certainly not over something as silly as a cannon cutie mark. There is nothing remotely cannon-related in this house. This house is cannon-free, cannon-proof. You might even say the entire contents of this house are non-cannonical. I’ll try to keep an eye on you, but I’d appreciate it if you do not attempt to blow anything up or set anything alight while my back is turned. Try to be careful, and do not touch anything you do not know how to use, some of the things in this house can be dangerous. Is that understood?”

The girls all nodded. Apple Bloom gulped. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

Octavia kept up her calm, confident presence. “Good. And in the event that you should decide to yell anyway, I think it’s only fair to warn you I had a classical education that included breath training for flute practice as well as opera singing. My voice may not be able to break glass, but rest assured I can outyell the three of you without any problems. What I did just now was a mere warning shot, not a proper shout, by my standards. Your ears will hurt when I have to shout, so I’d rather not. Keep it down and we’ll all get along. Do we have an accord on the vocal volume?”

Sweetie Belle nodded, trembling. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

Octavia perked up and brightened her smile. “Right then, that just leaves one final arrangement. I gather you’re all eager to get your cutie marks, and you were hoping to get some good attempts in gaining them tonight. Is that right?”

Scootaloo nodded and nervously rubbed the back of her head. “Uh, yeah, kinda.”

Octavia nodded in kind. “Very well, then. I give you girls two options. The first is that you do whatever you want in Scootaloo’s room. You can make whatever mess you like, use anything she lets you. But Scootaloo will still have to clean up after herself and after you. You’ll basically have to stay in Scootaloo’s room to do anything, and only exit for food or a bathroom break. But you’ll get to do whatever you want without me interfering.”

The girls winced at the prospect. Scootaloo shrugged. “And option two?”

“Option two is I help you girls out with some activities, but your activities will be what’s on this little schedule I threw together.” Octavia smiled sheepishly and pulled out a sheet of paper with timeslots and activities written on it. “You either get to do what you want without me, or you get to do some things you might not have tried on your own, and with my help. You also get to stay up as late as I do. So what do you feel like doing, girls?”

They looked to one another for a moment, then shrugged. Apple Bloom nodded towards the schedule. “We’ll go with number two, thank you.”

“Excellent. How about we start with trying to get a baking cutie mark?” Octavia smiled broadly and marched off to the kitchen, the girls in tow.

Sweetie Belle leaned in to whisper to Scootaloo. “Your aunt Octavia is scary.”

Scootaloo barely caught her breath. “She’s not my aunt. But yeah, I guess she just does that sometimes.”

“Now, girls, it’s five o’clock and change, so how about we start on dinner?” Octavia stood on her hind legs and donned an apron that said “Wub the Chef”, which was a subtle clue for Scootaloo that it wasn’t Octavia who’d bought that particular item.

Sweetie Belle walked up to the stove. “Isn’t it a little early for that?”

“Not if we want to have freshly made bread by six, darling. Take a seat at the table and I’ll explain.” Octavia gestured towards the table, away from the stove.

The girls sat down and each got a small plastic bowl filled with some flour and two other powders on each side of it.

Octavia sat down with them. “Now then, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, do you know how to bake flatbreads, or bake at all, for that matter?”

Apple Bloom tapped her chin in thought. “I’ve made cupcakes, umm, burnt ones. And I did make a bread that wound up stopping our table from wobblin’, that one was nice and flat.”

Sweetie Belle raised up a hoof. “Ooh, I’ve baked lots of things! I’ve baked toast, omelettes, and juice for my sister.”

Octavia blinked in confusion. “You baked juice, Sweetie Belle? I presume it didn’t come out too well?”

Sweetie Belle's hoof went down to tap her chin. “Well, apparently it was burnt, but my sister thinks everything I make is burnt, so I can’t be sure. Rarity’s just odd that way.”

Octavia stared ahead to help the picture form, then shook her head as she deposited her own bowl. “I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ then. In any event, I thought you might enjoy making some flatbreads tonight. I’ve put the flour in your bowls along with the yeast, and the next thing to add is a good bit of olive oil.” Octavia took a bottle out of a pantry, uncapped it and sprinkled her dough vigorously before passing it on to Apple Bloom.

Apple Bloom stared at the bottle. “Umm… so I just put a good dollop of this stuff in there, right?”

Octavia nodded and pushed the bottle forward. “Just like that, yes. If you’re worried about all of it gushing out, just remember to hold the bottle diagonal and make a circle as you go. And don’t shake it around too much or you’ll grease up the table.”

Apple Bloom hesitantly took the bottle and slowly mimicked what Octavia had done, only putting in a minor squirt, before passing it to Sweetie Belle, who was decidedly more enthusiastic about the olive oil contents of her bread. “Like that?”

Octavia frowned. “It’ll come out a bit greasy, I think, but it should do the job. Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo took the bottle and tried to copy what Octavia had done, or at least match the quantity. Octavia stood up again and brought out a bottle of water. “Next we add some water. It’s cold water, that’s why I wanted to start early. If you use cold water, the dough rises slowly, but it keeps more flavour.” Octavia poured some water in her bowl. “And for the next part we will need a wooden plank.” She got out three wooden breadplanks and handed one to each of the girls, setting down a fourth. “Now all you have to do is pour the water in and start kneading ‘till all the flour is collected. No white stuff on the walls of your bowl.”

Octavia showed the proper form, moulding the dough ball until all the flecks of flour had disappeared. Then she deposited the ball on the wooden plank, making sure to keep the table as clean as she could. She looked around to the girls.

Apple Bloom’s ball looked slightly rigid and dry, Sweetie Belle had made it soggy with that shot of olive oil, and Scootaloo seemed intent on copying Octavia’s motions to the point that she didn’t even look at her own dough ball anymore. A curt nod brought the girl’s attention back to what she was doing.

Octavia suppressed a smile. They listen. They really listen. “Now, girls, we’re about to knead our dough. Do you know why this is done?”

“Makes it softer, doesn’t it? And more stretchy?”

“Quite right, Apple Bloom. What you want to do is stretch the gluten, that’s a protein in certain plants that gives bread a stretch. So you just need to get your hooves into it and stretch, try to keep it on the board.” Octavia put one front hoof steady on the ball and used the other to stretch out the doughy substance, before folding it and repeating the motion.

The girls followed suit, each in their own rhythm, each careful not to get fur into the mix. Apple Bloom went about it slowly but stretched the dough out far, even tearing it a few times. Scootaloo, as expected, did the kneading quick and with a small range of motion. As for Sweetie Belle, she didn’t do it with any sort of rhythm, which struck Octavia as odd, considering what she’d heard of the girl’s affinity for music.

Scootaloo looked to Apple Bloom. “Bet my bread’ll be softer.”

Apple Bloom glared in response. “I’ll bet mine’ll be tastier.”

Octavia stopped her kneading and reshaped the dough into a ball. “Girls, please don’t try to one-up one another. Neither of you has any real advantage over the other. You’re both just as likely to make mistakes, you’re just not going to make the same ones, is all."

Silence fell and lingered over the table. Octavia suppressed a smirk as they went. She relished the silence as they worked, content that she'd gotten through to them so quickly. “And now, after about ten minutes of kneading, you should feel the dough is nice and stretchy, and a firm ball instead of a shapeless mass. And what do you do when bread dough is done kneading?”

“You bake it?”

Apple Bloom shook her head. “No, Sweetie Belle. First bread needs to rise. You gotta let the yeast put in some air holes, and then the dough will get bigger. It gets twice as big, even.”

Sweetie Belle inspected her dough to check. “Really? Twice as big as this? Aren’t we going to have too much, then?”

Octavia chuckled. “Well, now that you mention it, this recipe involves putting little pieces of fruit, jelly or cheese into the little pieces of dough after it’s risen. You can make a whole selection of your own breads to eat, if you like, it’ll be enough portions for a bunch of healthy appetites. But how about we make it really interesting, girls?”

Sweetie Belle raised her eyebrow. “How?”

Octavia leaned over her bowl in a decidedly conspiratory manner. “How about we agree that each of us makes four of every type of bread, and lets everypony at the table have one to taste? What we’ve got here is plenty for four ponies, after all. And you’d get to hear right away if you did anything wrong.”

Scootaloo put a hoof to her chin in thought. “I don’t know. What if we do something really wrong, and it comes out so bad nopony can eat it?”

Sweetie Belle whimpered at the remark. Octavia merely shrugged as she got some more olive oil into her bowl, before depositing her bread in the bowl again to soak and rise. “You all did it slightly differently, you’d know how to do it right next time, if you like. What do you say, girls? Wouldn’t it be nice to bake a little something for each other? If you do get it wrong, at least you’d have your friends to compare with.”

The girls shared a glance, then nodded and passed the bottle of olive oil around before plopping it into their respective bowls.

Octavia winced as some of the oil splashed in their faces. “Right, forgot to warn you about that. If you just drop something into olive oil, it will splash up.”

Apple Bloom let her tongue explore her nose to get the oil off. “Not bad, actually.”

Scootaloo walked over to the sink and handed Sweetie Belle some kitchen roll to wipe it off, doing the same for herself. Octavia collected the girls’ bowls and put them in a drawer.

Scootaloo frowned. “I didn’t know we had that much stuff for baking in the house.”

Octavia smiled petulantly. “Oh, that’s just to cater to my friends, darling. When you’re friends with a DJ who travels a lot, not to mention needing other musicians for gigs, it helps when you can supply and/or bribe ponies with food.”

Sweetie Belle’s jaw hung slack. “Huh?”

Octavia didn't turn back to reply. “Let’s just say I have my social circles, and within said circles I am known for supplying food when needed.”

Sweetie Belle shook her head. “I still don’t get it.”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “Whenever aunt Vinyl or my parents go to a concert, it’s Octavia who makes all the snacks for everypony. And every time some ponies are looking for a cellist, they like it when Octavia brings food for everypony. That way, even ponies who don't like all that fancy food or tiny servings get something good to eat. It's so the musicians don't starve at the Gala, huh?”

Octavia blinked as realisation set in. Figured that out quick enough. Clever girl. She gave Scootaloo a brief nod. Octavia took a rag to clean the table off, then rinsed her front hooves under the sink, before moving a chair so the girls could reach and follow suit. “Now we need to let the dough rise. I’ll be leaving mine in for fifteen minutes, you’re welcome to leave yours for more or less.”

The girls shrugged.

Octavia checked the clock. “Right, then, that gives us fifteen minutes to spend and I suggest we try to answer the most important question for tonight now.”

Scootaloo arched an eyebrow. “And that is?”

The mare nodded towards the big television in the living room. “Which movie do you girls want to watch tonight?”

“A western!”

“An action flick!”

“A musical!”

Octavia sighed and looked at her schedule.

Dough is rising, girls choosing film. Fifteen minutes, easily.

Author's Note

It's the return of Tschaicudsky, because that's the best I can do to ponify that name. And yes, loyal readers, that is a name I used in the very first fic I published here.

The flatbread recipe was taken from Great British Bakeoff, it's a Paul Hollywood recipe. Which reminds me, someone ponify Mary Berry, please, that can't be too hard. Merry Berry, anyone?

Energy Management

Octavia hummed to herself as the argument finally drew to a close.

Scootaloo groaned. “Okay, Apple Bloom, are you okay with a musical if it’s also a western?”

Apple Bloom nodded.

Scootaloo cocked her head towards Sweetie Belle. “Sweetie Belle, are you okay with a western that’s also a musical?”

Reluctantly, Sweetie Belle nodded.

“And I’m okay with anything that has some action in it, so we’ll just watch ‘Blazin’ Saddles’.”

Octavia perked up. “Are you sure, darling? Don’t you think the zebra jokes will be a little over your heads?”

“I reckon I can appreciate the sight heist of the film well enough.” Apple Bloom grinned.

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Zeitgeist.”

“Gesundheit.” Scootaloo smiled at the mare.

“All right, then, Blazin’ Saddles it shall be. And on that note, I believe our breads are done proving.” Octavia took all four bowls out and presented them in front of the girls before taking her own out and covering her plank with flour. She motioned for the girls to do the same and upended the bowl on the wood, which the girls then copied.

Octavia lightly rolled out the dough over the length of the plank. “Now we’re using flour because we do not need to mix it anymore. We just roll it out like so and let it firm up, and then we cut it into smaller balls.”

The grey mare looked around, noting the Cutie Mark Crusaders were following her instructions to the letter. She took a moment to enjoy the sentiment, if only because of the pride she felt at succeeding in a task where so many fellow responsible adults had seemingly failed. You just need to set things straight and pay attention to them, really. These girls aren’t so bad.

“Now, I’m planning to make two kinds of bread, so I’ll need eight slices.” Octavia reached behind her to grab a sharp square made of plastic. She used it to cut eight slices off her doughy mass and shaped those into small flour-covered balls again, then passed the cutter on to Apple Bloom. “Have you thought about what sort of fillings you’d like to use?”

Apple Bloom stopped herself from tapping her chin in thought, given the lumps of dough she still had on her front hooves. “I was thinkin’ something with apples.”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “That’s original.”

Apple Bloom glared in response. “But I guess I could try something different for a change. Pears, maybe?”

Octavia nodded as Apple Bloom cut four big slices off her dough. “Just a sweet taste, darling?”

Apple Bloom’s ears perked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, this isn’t going to be your dessert, I went and ordered some tiramisu from Sugarcube Corner for that. The bread you’re making is going to be your meal. You could make it with just something sweet, if you like.”

Apple Bloom frowned. “Umm, what are you going to do, then?”

Octavia chuckled and held her head high in pride. “Me? I intend to fill my bread with some camembert and quince jelly for one, and dried tomatoes with sweet relish for the other.”

Sweetie Belle gagged. “Does that really go together?”

“I suppose you’ll just have to wait and see.” The mare winked. “You can do whatever you like, Apple Bloom, but if I were you I’d try to think of something savoury to compensate for the sweetness.”

Apple Bloom narrowed her eyes in thought. “Soo… I should throw some herbs in it, too, then? Like thyme, maybe?”

“Couldn’t hurt to try. What about you, Scootaloo? What would you like to make? I stocked up on fruit and veg, we have the usual.” The mare nodded towards Scootaloo.

Scootaloo didn’t take long to find her answer. “Pineapple and soft cheese.”

Octavia had to stop herself from grinning. Always those two on her hot pockets, and now she’s just going to put them in the bread. Well, she’s consistent, at least. And she doesn’t know the other reason some ponies eat pineapple, thankfully. “Four slices, then. And you, Sweetie Belle?”

Sweetie Belle pouted, her voice starting to crack. “I can’t decide. I don’t know what’s good and what’s not.”

Octavia was taken aback slightly. “You know what your friends are making. What goes well with that, do you suppose?”

Rather than answering, Sweetie Belle groaned. “Doesn’t matter. It’ll come out tasting like charcoal, anyway, it always does.”

Octavia tilted her head at the sudden drop in the mood. “Really? It can’t be that bad. Surely you know what sort of tastes go well together, at least? What do you like to eat?”

Sweetie Belle stared up like Octavia had just asked which of the five suns orbiting Equestria was green. Octavia didn’t so much as flinch. “It’s a simple question, darling. If you could serve anything for your friends to enjoy, what would it be?”

“Umm… I guess grapes, but that’s probably not right. Raisins, maybe? And… I think maybe some jelly would go well with that?”

“Quince jelly would be fine with that, darling.” Octavia got up and briskly washed off her hooves, before scouring the pantries for all the ingredients. The girls went back to the sink for a moment to clean their hooves again, careful not to get in Octavia’s way. She took a knife to cut some jelly out its jar and placed it in the centre of one of the dough balls, before doing the same with a few slices of cheese. “Now, first you take what you need and you press it into the dough. Then you fold it up and pinch the sides like this, and you bring the edges together to form a parcel around your fillings.”

Apple Bloom followed Octavia’s motions of taking slices of cheese – pear, in her case – and folding it into the dough balls, giving every one a slight sprinkling of thyme. Sweetie Belle followed suit, just dropping in raisins and pushing in jelly cubes that Octavia carved out for her. Scootaloo didn’t need any prompting, she knew exactly what she wanted her bread to taste like.

Before long, they were all done.

Octavia flashed them a bright smile. “And now we apply the rolling pin.”

With a thick wooden cylinder between her hooves, Octavia flattened every little bread she’d made, even making it burst in places. “Now, don’t worry about any holes popping up, that’s normal. It’ll still hold just fine.”

When she was done with all eight of her small loaves, she handed the rolling pin to Apple Bloom on her left. Apple Bloom was as careful with the roller as she was with the olive oil, and the end result was a decidedly thicker breed of bread than Octavia’s. Sweetie Belle was just the opposite, trying to get too much of it done and nearly flattening the things like pancakes. Scootaloo didn’t seem to care much about how her friends or Octavia had done it, simply giving hers a few quick presses before the rolling pin completed its trip around the table. “There, that’s all done. And now what do we do?”

“Ooh!” Sweetie Belle jumped in her seat. “Now we bake, right?”

Octavia nodded. “Now we bake. Well, technically we fry, I suppose.” She took a look at the clock on the wall, then at her schedule. “Huh, that’s odd. We managed to get ahead of schedule somehow. Well, this is embarrassing. I could start up the frying pan already, but that would be a bit early, even if we let things cool down. Tell you what, girls, you head up to Vinyl’s room and look for the DVD of Blazin’ Saddles, and since we are early you can pick a second movie, if you can stay up late enough to watch it.” She got up from the table and collected her saddlebags. “Just head up the stairs, it’s the first room on the right. The DVDs are on the large rack, they’re not up too high for you.”

And the ones that would be, I hid in the vault in the attic, anyway. You’re far too young to learn what the Hevea industry has supplied Equestrian culture over the years.

Scootaloo looked on as Octavia went out. “You’re getting dessert already?”

Octavia nodded. “The Cakes should have it done by now, if I know their timing well enough, and I like to think I do. Won’t be long.”

With that, she was off, and so were Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle. Scootaloo grimaced as she thought. Well, this isn’t turning out too bad. Sweetie Belle’s a little sad about the baking thing, but that’s not different from me and my flying, so… I guess Octavia really does know her stuff.

Scootaloo heard a noise coming from up the stairs, but she was too distracted to fully register it. Instead, she saw the comic books that had been left so carelessly on the ground before she’d put them on the couch.

I’d better drop those in my room before the movie night.

She slowly walked up the stairs, bags held on her back.

She froze when she reached the top and let the handles of the bags slip out of her mouth. It wasn’t Sweetie Belle’s voice that worried her, or Apple Bloom’s. It wasn’t even the volume of either voice.

It was the fact that the voices were coming from her left instead of her right.

She slowly stepped to the edge of the doorway and looked inside. Sure enough, Apple Bloom was looking around the desk while Sweetie Belle had mounted Octavia’s chair and was balancing precariously close to the crystal ball on the desk and the mare’s cello.

Scootaloo’s right eye twitched. “What are you doing?”

Sweetie Belle frowned. “We’re looking for the movie. This is your aunt Vinyl’s room, isn’t it?”

A tightening feeling welled up in Scootaloo’s throat. She could feel that collar, that nightmare, tightening around her neck again. The very thought made her back chill.

It was just one rule. One rule. “No, it’s not! Octavia said it was the first room on the right, remember?”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Right. We went up the stairs, rounded the corner, and this room is first on the right.”

The blood drained from Scootaloo’s head. “That’s not what she… that’s not a wall on the right end of the stairs! You’re supposed to go up, then round the corner to the right, that’s aunt Vinyl’s room! You’re standing in Octavia’s room, didn’t you notice the cello? You are not supposed to go into Octavia’s room, ever.”

Apple Bloom’s gaze narrowed. “Why are you so scared of bein’ in her room?”

The memory of that collar flashed through her mind again, sending chills down her back. “It’s a long story. Just slowly move away from the desk, and walk out.”

For a moment, things looked like they were going to be okay.

Then Apple Bloom tripped, and that was pretty much the beginning of the end.

The little Earth pony’s hoof got caught on the carpet, making her bump the cello resting against Octavia’s desk.

The cello went down, but didn’t break. The carpet softened the impact.

Scootaloo breathed a sigh of relief.

Then she noticed Sweetie Belle’s chair had become unbalanced, and Sweetie Belle with it. The unicorn filly managed to land okay, but not before giving the desk a firm bump of her own.

Scootaloo’s eyes fixated on that crystal ball Octavia kept on her desk, that ornate paperweight. Time slowed down as it was jolted off of its resting place. It nearly froze when it was on the edge of the desk.

Catch it. Just catch it, please!

She never even moved, too stunned and too conflicted about the rule to intervene.

There was a crash, a snapping of strings, and next thing anypony knew the cello was broken. The crystal ball had smashed Octavia’s precious instrument.

The burning in Scootaloo’s chest reminded her to breathe. “What did you do?”

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom winced at the damage, before turning to their friend. Sweetie Belle was on the verge of crying. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “It was an accident.”

Scootaloo stayed in the doorway, paralysed. “Just… just walk out, please.”

Slowly, carefully, the girls walked outside. Scootaloo reached up and closed the door, then led them past the discarded bags of graphic novels and into the room they should have gone into.

Vinyl Scratch’s room was much like the mare herself was: vibrant, loud in places, but soft when it came to crashing somewhere. Upon entering, the girls were greeted by the sight of movie posters, all epic adventures and action flicks, of course, and a rack that held a collection of DVDs, CDs and the eponymous vinyl records. The DVDs were at eye height for the small fillies. Everything else was not, nor was there a steady chair they might stand on to try and reach. The closest substitute was a beanie bag, and Scootaloo knew for a fact that one would make anypony’s hooves sink into it long before they could take advantage of the added height.

She sullenly browsed the collection, then picked out the Blazin’ Saddles DVD. She cocked her head towards the row of disk cases. “You can pick another one.”

Apple Bloom sighed. “Scootaloo, we’re awful sorry. We didn’t know it was Octavia’s room. We’ll pay for the damage, won’t we, Sweetie Belle?”

Sweetie nodded. “Yeah, whatever we have to do.”

Scootaloo bit her lip. “You don’t get it. It’s not about the damage.”

“We’ll tell Octavia it was our fault, you just weren’t around to stop us.” Apple Bloom put a comforting hoof on her friend’s shoulder.

Scootaloo brushed that hoof off. “You’re not listening to me. I should have been around to stop you, I should have been paying attention. You don’t know what it’s like, living with somepony who’s got no reason to put up with you, but still does.”

Sweetie Belle dried off the tear she’d shed. “Octavia’s not that bad, Scootaloo. She’ll forgive you.”

Scootaloo clenched her jaw. “You just don’t get it, you really don’t! This isn’t about damaging something or forgiving something, this is about trusting ponies! Octavia, aunt Vinyl, Miss Cheerilee, everypony in town knows we’re trouble, do you realise that? We… we’re gonna get punished someday, girls, and it won’t just be chores in the orchard. And I think today’s the last straw. We’re not gonna get out from under this.”

Apple Bloom flinched. “What are you talking about?”

Scootaloo took a deep breath to steady herself. “Don’t you think it’s weird that we get to do what we do and no one ever seems to mind? How long do you think that’s gonna last?”

Sweetie Belle furrowed her brow. “What makes you think it’ll end tonight?”

The pegasus filly groaned in a mix of frustration and fear. “You don’t know Octavia. When she sets a rule, she sets it with consequences. Her room is off limits, always has been. She told me that she puts up with me because I follow the rules. She has never had to punish me. She likes me, even if I mess up, because she still thinks I’m a good girl. But now? Now her rule’s been broken. And I’m never gonna be able to make that up to her. She knows how to handle us, and everypony we know is gonna hear about it.”

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle let their heads hang in defeat. Scootaloo wiped away what she’d swear was a dust speck. A wet, tear-shaped dust speck that made her nose sniffle, but a dust speck nonetheless. “Now she has a reason to be mad at me. It’s over.”

Author's Note

Somehow I think this chapter will punch the story back into the feature box just from the comments saying Blazin' Saddles is not a musical. I'm aware it's not, not in the real world. But in pony world, it'd be a musical. With zebras.

Also, the original recipe by Hollywood was with quince jelly and camembert, indeed.

For those who don't think the girls could confuse Octavia's room for Vinyl's: it is a natural mistake to make when they've been following Octavia's words to the letter and if the entrance to Vinyl's room isn't visible from downstairs, which is what's described here. You'd be surprised how often this exact kind of mistake happens in university settings.

Charm Offensive

Morosely, the girls walked out, Sweetie Belle carrying the DVD in her mouth. Scootaloo picked up the comic books and took them past Octavia’s room and into her own.

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle glanced around for a moment to take it in. It was about the size of the other two bedrooms, only this one didn’t have a big closet beside one of the walls, just the walk-in closet next to the bed. A big trunk under a window marked where Scootaloo kept her toys, a surprisingly large and even more surprisingly laden bookrack stood next to it. The walls were a neutral beige, as was most of the house, adorned by only one Wonderbolts poster. Scootaloo kept the bulk of her collection in her weekend home, she claimed.

“What are we gonna do?” Sweetie Belle looked from one friend’s face to the other.

Scootaloo kept staring at the ground. She barely noticed her bed had been made, though the slight hint of perfume made her nose curl. “What can we do? We broke the rules, and Octavia’s gonna punish us. And then every grownup in town will know we really can’t be trusted. Miss Cheerilee will crack down on us, we won’t get any help when we wanna go crusading.”

Apple Bloom huffed and crossed her forelegs in front of her chest. “We can’t let that happen. I really like gettin’ my own bits, and nopony’s ever really told us to stop.”

“So what do you think we should do?” Scootaloo stared intently at the Earth pony.

Said Earth pony thought it over for a moment. “The real issue ain’t that we broke Octavia’s cello, right? It’s how she’s going to react when she sees it.”

Sweetie Belle winced. “I don’t think we can fix it before she gets home, unless one of us somehow manages to get an instrument-fixing cutie mark.”

Scootaloo's tail flicked over her unmarked flank. “And I don’t think we can get Lyra in here without Octavia noticing.”

Apple Bloom waved both concerns away. “But what if Octavia doesn’t get a chance to get angry?”

Scootaloo arched an eyebrow. “How?”

“You said she liked us. If she starts to really, really like us, she might not start yelling over breakin’ just one rule. Doesn’t your aunt Vinyl ever break anything?” Apple Bloom narrowed her eyes as she thought.

Scootaloo shrugged. “Well, sure, I guess. It must have happened once or twice.”

“And Octavia didn’t get mad at her for that? She doesn’t get all strict with her?” Apple Bloom's face lit up in anticipation.

Scootaloo scratched her head, thinking hard. “Umm… no? Aunt Vinyl can get away with pretty much anything. I don’t think I’ve ever really heard them yell at each other. And you heard Octy, it’s hard to miss when she yells.”

Apple Bloom shook her head. “And that’s all we need, right? If Octavia just gets used to us fast enough, she won’t mind we broke something. She just doesn’t know us well enough. If we’re nice enough and then she finds out, worst she’ll do is call us what she calls your aunt.”

Sweetie Belle pondered it for a moment. “That might work. Fluttershy and Twilight didn’t get that upset because they knew us. We could just try and be extra nice to Octavia.”

Scootaloo nodded. “And definitely wait as long as we can to let her know we messed up.”

“Darlings! Did you find the DVDs already?” Octavia called out from below. They could hear the sound of the refrigerator opening and closing.

“We found it!” Scootaloo called back. “I was just putting our comic books out of the way.”

“Good girl. Now come on down, please, and I’ll fry up your breads.”

Scootaloo took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She checked her face for any stray tear-shaped dust specks, then extended her hoof. “So we all agree, then? Best behaviour we can. No arguing, no shouting, no doing anything without Octavia’s permission.”

Apple Bloom put her hoof on Scootaloo’s, then Sweetie Belle followed suit.

Scootaloo took another deep breath. “Okay. Tonight we act like perfect little angels.”

“There we are, nicely cooled down.” Octavia patted the breads before slicing them up so everypony had a bit of everything on their plate. The table was set, drinks were set out, and the girls sat quietly at the table, nibbling away at their food with a careful eye for errant crumbs.

Octavia looked at the scene with bewilderment. The girls were eating at a pace she normally only saw in Canterlot ponies.

More worryingly, they weren’t talking.

That’s odd, they should be comparing breads by now. Octavia chuckled. They were all eating hers first. “Do you like my flatbreads, darlings?”

Three heads bobbed up and down with excitement.

Octavia flashed them a coy smile. “And what do you think of each other’s breads? Are they all right?”

Hesitantly, the girls reached up for Apple Bloom’s pear and thyme bread and took a bite. In perfect synch, they chewed and swallowed. Almost mechanically, they repeated the motion with Sweetie Belle’s raisin and quince bread, then finished with Scootaloo’s pineapple and cheese bread.

Octavia’s ears perked. And again, so much tension all of a sudden. Scootaloo knows how pineapple and cheese taste together, so why is she so nervous too? “Well, girls?”

Sweetie Belle shot a worried glance towards Apple Bloom. The glance was met with an equally worried glance.

“They’re fine,” Scootaloo blurted out.

Octavia had a taste of Apple Bloom’s bread. “Oh? And you don’t think Apple Bloom may have been a bit skittish on the olive oil, or neglected to fully flatten her bread so it’s not quite as well done as it should be?”

Scootaloo looked guiltily at Apple Bloom, then to Octavia. “Well, maybe.”

Octavia smiled and took a bite out of Apple Bloom's bread. “Really, I should think you girls were all for a bit of constructive criticism. Apple Bloom, what do you think? Is it fair to say your bread is slightly thicker and more doughy compared to the others?”

Apple Bloom nodded reluctantly. “I guess so.”

Octavia chewed and swallowed, not betraying any hints of disgust or even mere disapproval. “And you know how to do better next time, right?”

“Use a little more olive oil, roll it flatter?” She looked up at the mare.

“Exactly. And Sweetie Belle? I think you know what your friends are going to say, no?” Octavia took a chunk out of the bit the unicorn filly had made.

Sweetie Belle took a reluctant bite off her bread. “It’s too hard and too greasy. At least this one doesn’t taste like charcoal.”

Scootaloo waved her friend’s concerns away, before charging in on said bread, gulping it down with a few quick bites. “Don’t worry about it, Sweetie Belle. Sure, it didn’t come out perfect, but it’s still tasty. It’s not bad or anything.”

Octavia followed Scootaloo’s example. “Quite right. It was a first effort, after all, and I didn’t give you the exact recipe. You don’t get your cutie marks just following recipes.”

That prompted all three girls to check their flanks. Octavia smirked. Like clockwork. “And in case you’re wondering, I have it on good authority Scootaloo has done this sort of thing before, but never baking. She once made breakfast for her aunt Vinyl while I was out, though. Liquid breakfast, mind you.”

Scootaloo blushed. “You know about that?”

Octavia glared evilly, then grinned and chuckled. “I know she taught you how to make that tomato smoothie she likes on certain mornings. Does that answer your question?”

Scootaloo finished the slice of her own bread and gave a loud gulp before sinking into the chair.

Apple Bloom cocked her head slightly to get a look at Octavia’s flank. “So how did you get your cutie mark, Octavia? If you don’t mind my askin’.”

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo stared at Apple Bloom for just long enough to convey their fear, but quickly realised that they had a lot of bonding to do and precious little time to do it in.

Octavia wiped some hair away from her eyes and finished another slice. “Well, I suppose I could share that story, if you can promise to keep it a secret.”

The girls all nodded.

Octavia took a sip of her drink and thought for a moment to find the right words. “My school was doing this musical play, and I was to play the cello, my instrument of choice. I can play others, mind you, but that’s beside the point. I practised along with my classmates, I tried to be in harmony with them, as musicians do, and I failed. No matter what I did, I kept feeling like the music we were playing just felt off. I tried my best to learn all the notes, I could play my part on memory after a week, but nothing helped. Every time we got together and practised, it just sounded awful to me, and I couldn’t understand why. Nopony else seemed to notice, either.”

Scootaloo tilted her head at that. “And how old were you?”

Octavia looked up and did a mental count. “Quite a bit older than you, come to think of it. Two years older, if I’m not mistaken. No, wait. I remember I got my first professional gig when I was fifteen, and that’s around the time I met your mother and your aunt. But I stopped going to music classes two years after I’d gotten my cutie mark, so I was three years older than you are now when that happened.”

Sweetie Belle’s jaw nearly dropped. “Wow. Didn’t you get picked on?”

“Not really. I rather liked playing music, I loved learning to play the cello, but the Canterlot music scene is… odd, let’s say. In Canterlot, ponies don’t watch your flank, they watch you. At any rate, I was just going completely mad over this silly thing. I kept on trying and trying, and eventually it got so bad I didn’t even hear my cello’s music anymore. That’s when it finally hit me.” Octavia paused to munch down on the last few pieces of bread, a reprieve the girls took full advantage of.

Apple Bloom leaned in. “What did?”

“I realised that I don’t hear music like other ponies do. You might even say I’m deaf, in a way. When I got so tired of trying to improve the sound of my cello, I realised the dissonance wasn’t coming from me. There was harpist right next to me whose instrument wasn’t properly tuned. For some strange reason, I was the only pony who picked up on it. I told my teacher, he told the pony in charge of maintenance, and when next I came to practice everything just fell into place. And then this lovely symbol appeared on my flanks.” She pointed towards her hind section with a flourish.

Silence fell.

“My talent is nit-picking music, basically. My mind has a tendency to block out certain sounds, certain instruments, and only focus on the things I want to hear. When I listen to music, not everything registers at the same time, my attention just wanders from one thing to the next, and if I can't focus then it all becomes random gibberish. Same with conversations, actually, but I only learned that later, that's why I have a tendency to ramble on. Like right now, even." She chuckled. "But that's just how my talent works. Hum any theme song to a movie and chances are I won’t recognise it. Tap your hooves to the same beat as the percussion does in the theme, and I might remember it.” Octavia smiled and shrugged dismissively.

The girls sat flabbergasted as Octavia cleared the table. Scootaloo snapped out of it first. She helped put everything in the cupboards, Octavia loaded up the dishwasher.

Sweetie Belle frowned, confused. “Wait, you said you stopped going to music class. But didn’t you play at the Grand Galloping Gala?”

Octavia nodded. “Yes, I still do. I’m a regular guest there.”

“But you never actually finished music school? Don’t you wish you had?”

Scootaloo made a cutting gesture over her throat to get Sweetie Belle to stop talking.

Octavia shook her head, her back still turned to the girls. “Scootaloo, please stop doing that. I don’t mind explaining.” She took out the tiramisu from the fridge and divided it evenly between them, before sitting down and facing the girls. “Can we keep this strictly entre nous, darlings? Top secret, you did not hear this from me, you did not even hear this, period?”

They all nodded.

Octavia bit her lip and sighed. “All right, then. First and foremost, you should always keep learning, whether you are of school age or not. I wished to keep on learning after I got my basic diploma, so that’s what I did. The path I was following, I felt, did not allow me to keep learning what I wanted, so I didn't continue specialising. Every pony is different, not every musician is meant for the orchestra, even if they do like the classical genres. I stopped when I did because I wanted to try new things, I wanted to reach out. My teachers didn’t want that, and they felt I was wasting my talent. Funny, that’s the one I thing I agreed with them on. My parents didn’t mind, they noticed things weren’t going to end well if I stayed, so they agreed to let me start looking for little odd jobs in the music scene that needed doing, get some income, make some connections. That’s around the time I met your mother, Scootaloo, and your aunt. After two years of side jobs and gathering up my courage, I went to my first rock concert. And amongst all the groupies and the drunks, there were two drunks who were a bit nicer than the others, and one of which had a fabulous library of music. We talked, we arranged to meet sometime afterwards, and, well…”

Octavia looked at the screen. “A computer? You own one of these?”

Vinyl nodded and donned her headphones. “Yup. Princess Celestia said it was gift, said she knew somepony who’d love to hear some of my stuff sometime. Didn’t say who, though.”

Octavia sat down next to the unicorn. “I see. I take it this is what you use to mix your sounds with?”

“Yeah, listen to this.” Vinyl Scratch hit a button and cranked up her speakers. A slow thumping and a sound Octavia could only describe as ‘wubs’ began to flow forth. Vinyl changed tracks, this one more of a rock sound, only harder. If she’d heard music that could be described as a rock before, this sounded more like a metal. Among the harsher sounds of electric guitar, she caught a few more familiar noises in this one. On the screen there was a single green band and a complex wave form that represented the sounds, a little cursor going by to indicate the time. It was fast, brutal, terribly modern, but it had a touch of the classic in it, especially in the strings.

Octavia’s ears perked towards the speakers. “Nice touch with the violin you have in the background, Vinyl, very vivid and active, good rhythm.”

Vinyl’s head snapped towards the Earth pony mare. “You like it?”

Octavia clicked another button to start up a new song. “Oh, this is lovely, darling. It has all the bombastic power of a classical piece with the raw emotion of modern music. But it needs tweaking, though, some of these chords are so off-putting. The concept works, but you really ought to get that violinist some better material, for starters, it's all over the place. Can you isolate the strings, perhaps?”

Vinyl caught herself gaping, before turning to the screen again. “N-not on this track, no. It was recorded sounding just like that. I’d have to record the strips separately, one strip for the violin, one for the rest. But I can play with every strip the way I want.”

Octavia nodded. “Ah, I see. Goodness, what a lovely bit of technology this is. The possibilities are mind-boggling.”

Vinyl nodded enthusiastically. “That’s what I’ve been thinking. You could mix up sounds so much easier, you could get some good violins or cello sounds without those snobs –“ She stopped herself and tried to look apologetic.

Octavia looked at Vinyl and smiled. “No offense taken, darling. Ninety-nine percent of snobs give the rest of us a bad name, after all. I can see what you’re trying to do, though, it sounds like a great idea.”

Vinyl kept those eyes fixed on Octavia. Octavia looked at the shades. “What’s the matter?”

“W-would you mind working with me? Like, closely? I’ve been tryin’ to get this thing to work forever, and I could really do with somepony who’s got a good ear and maybe some connections.”

Sweetie Belle went wide-eyed. “Just like that? You heard her music, and you moved in with her?”

Octavia glanced away, trying to look innocent. “Not immediately, of course. We rented an apartment at first, and I introduced Vinyl to some of my friends with the more classical training while she introduced me to her friends in the industry. They don’t mesh too well together, but they know one of us, so we can, ah, liaise different genres without causing any bad blood. Vinyl knows quite a few rock stars, I must say. But with her father and all, that’s no surprise. Mister Pieces has a very broad clientele.”

Scootaloo shook her head curtly to clear it. Grandpa Z? Rock stars? How did he do that?

“But that’s a story for another time, I suppose. In the meantime, enjoy dessert, darlings. Next we watch a western comedy musical. Cutie Mark Crusaders Movie Critics?” Octavia smiled at the fillies.

Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo exchanged a nervous glance, then forced out a smile.

“Yay?”

Author's Note

This chapter was strange. I'm aware of the missed comedy potential of the girls doing everything they can to be nice to Octavia, but I felt I couldn't quite use any of them in this context. The Crusaders always get stuff for their exploits, and here they are stuck inside. It's a sleepover, they said so. Besides which, I had to compromise between the girls being oblivious to annoying Octy whilst giving her a makeover or some such or the girls just not trying anything on their own and just doing what Octavia suggests because they are scared. The first one would have been funnier, but the second one made more sense for the plot.

It's a comedy, but also needs to make some sense as a plot. Besides which, things get set up in the story early on, and that doesn't leave much room for sudden changes in plans.

Also, Octavia's talent wasn't based on anything real, but I am aware there is a real world equivalent. It's considered a learning difference, some people simply don't register a voice talking when there's background noise. So in a conversation, two people talking at the same time would not register to such a person, nor would anyone talking when there's another conversation in the background.

Horse's Necks and Blazing Saddles

The Cutie Mark Crusaders sat on the couch while Octavia loaded the DVD. “Now then, I intend to get a drink for during the movie. Do you girls want anything?”

The girls exchanged a glance with each other and shrugged. Apple Bloom spoke up first. “Fruit juice, you mean?”

Octavia went to a cupboard with a lock on it. She fetched a key from under her bow tie and opened the thing up. “I was thinking more along the lines of alcohol, darlings. Nothing too strong, obviously.” She stuck her head into the cupboard, sniffing about for the right bottle.

Sweetie Belle called for a huddle, lowering her voice to a whisper. “What do we do? We can’t drink alcohol, look at what happened last time.”

Scootaloo winced. “I know. But we have to get Octavia to like us, and I’m pretty sure drinking with her will do that.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Besides, she might get drunk enough to believe we didn’t even break that thing.”

Octavia pulled her head out of the drinks cupboard. “Anyone up for limon-cello, per chance?”

“No!” Sweetie Belle shouted.

Octavia stared at the girl for a moment, taken aback by the sudden reaction. “I suppose not, that’s far too strong for little fillies like you. You’d be seeing pink elephants all night. Do you girls like ginger ale?”

Apple Bloom’s head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. “Love it.”

Octavia took out a bottle of brandy and went to the kitchen. She poured them four glasses of ginger ale, mixed in a bit of the brandy, then cut a lemon to put a slice of its peel over the glass. She topped everything off with some ice cubes and stirred, before bringing it back to the living room.

“Now, girls, this is an alcoholic cocktail. I’ve made it a lot weaker than your average drink, but you should get enough of a taste of it to understand what alcohol does.” Octavia put the tray of drinks on the table before them, but she didn’t give them the glasses just yet.

Apple Bloom looked apprehensive at the drinks. “Are you absolutely sure this is all right? I mean, we did go to the hospital last time.”

Octavia sighed. “Yes, and if somepony had explained to you what alcohol is and what it does, I’m sure that accident could have been avoided altogether. You know what they say, darling: when you fall off your saddle, you have to get back on as soon as possible.”

Apple Bloom grimaced. “Well, yeah, but what about when we fall off the wagon?”

Octavia smiled at the girls, giving each a glass. “You should learn about this, girls. Scootaloo’s mother gave me permission to give her a small introduction to the matter, and I’m sure your teacher would appreciate me taking this over from her. You just need to learn the rules regarding alcohol, that’s all.”

Scootaloo suppressed a groan. I knew it.

Octavia sat down on the couch, right in between Apple Bloom on one side and Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo on the other. “First you need to know how to recognise a drink with alcohol in it. You take a slight sip like this, only a little.” Octavia let some of the cocktail slip into her mouth, relishing the taste for a bit before swallowing. “Let it run over your tongue, and you’ll notice it has this odd numbing effect at first. That’s how you can tell. If you ever get that from a drink you think is harmless, it means it’s either the wrong drink or somepony spiked it.”

Sweetie Belle frowned. “What does Spike have to do with it?”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “No, darling, ‘spiking’ a drink means adding alcohol to it without anyone knowing. It’s done as a prank sometimes, but it can be dangerous. Take a small sip, it won’t hurt. Notice that feeling on your tongue?”

The girls all complied, taking a careful sip of the cocktail. Sweetie Belle nodded. “Yeah, it feels weird on my tongue. And it kinda burns in my throat, too.”

Octavia nodded. “That’s another way you can tell. Some drinks don’t have that effect because of the alcohol, but because of spices or added ice to it, so you can’t always rely on it. But most of the time it’s sweet drinks like punch that get spiked, so now you know what to watch for.”

“Yup, it tastes pretty good.” Apple Bloom nearly threw her head back to drink some more.

Octavia extended a hoof to stop her. “The second thing to remember is that alcohol will have a greater effect if you drink it too quickly. Drink slow, enjoy it. That glass needs to last a whole movie, mind you. It also helps if you’ve eaten before you drink.”

“And then we won’t get sick from drinking it?” Scootaloo grabbed the remote and handed it to Octavia.

“Not normally, no. Alcohol just… loosens you up a bit, under normal circumstances. You start doing things you might be afraid to otherwise, your voice is slurred because of a numb tongue, your extremities can go numb, as you noticed, and you can get a headache the next day, that’s called a hangover. Alcohol is a painkiller of sorts, but it can hurt the next day. Technically, your body treats it like it’s poison, but it doesn’t do any real damage in small doses.”

Apple Bloom settled in the couch and took another small sip, before setting her glass back on the tray. “But if it’s poison, why do ponies drink alcohol? Or even make it?”

Octavia set her glass down and held up the remote. “Well, darling, aside from the good taste, that’s because a small bit of alcohol can help you relax. What you got was mostly because of an overdose, but in moderation it has quite some good uses. When used sparingly, it can be a way to put aside your troubles for a moment, recharge the proverbial batteries. Certain medicines are nothing more than alcohol mixed with herbs, for good reason. Of course, you should never confuse true happiness with an alcohol buzz, or think you can only socialise under the influence, that’s the danger of it. In excess, alcohol can and will ruin lives. But smart fillies like you don’t have to worry about that. Now then, shall we begin our feature?”

Scootaloo looked over Octavia’s lap to Apple Bloom. “Ready to get your movie critic cutie mark?”

“Ready.”

Sweetie Belle nodded in agreement. “Ready.”

Octavia pressed ‘play’, and suppressed a smirk. One-track mind, girls.

Scootaloo yawned. Sweetie Belle yawned after her, followed by Apple Bloom. The glasses were all empty, the movie was done, and Octavia checked the girls’ flanks. “Still no cutie marks, girls. Not too disappointed?”

Apple Bloom was slumped on the couch. She sat upright and rubbed her head. “Not really, no. I feel pretty good about it. It doesn’t even worry me anymore.”

Octavia smiled knowingly. “That’s what alcohol will do, darling. Be careful not to get too used to it, though, this isn’t a feeling you want all the time.”

Sweetie Belle nodded in agreement. “I know. It’s like everything’s just a little quieter now. I feel kinda… peppy. Like I could sing.”

“Please don’t sing, Sweetie Belle. Now’s not the time.” Scootaloo grimaced.

“You don’t like my voice?” The unicorn filly pouted.

Scootaloo threw her hooves up in annoyance. “Sure I do, but you should sing when there’s ponies around to listen, not shout to yourself. You’ve got a great voice, but you keep wasting it on stuff that doesn’t matter.”

Sweetie Belle blinked as that set in. Octavia patted her on the head. “That’s another thing you should know: alcohol can make you say things you normally keep to yourself. It makes it harder to come up with lies. Come to think of it… Apple Bloom, do you know where your sister’s name comes from?”

Apple Bloom cocked an eyebrow. “Applejack? Not really, no.”

“It’s an alcoholic drink, based on cider. Quite a hard cider, too, from what I’m told.” Octavia tilted her head, thinking.

Apple Bloom stared ahead as the facts regarding the matter fell into place. “Huh. It’s funny you should mention that. And alcohol makes it so you talk more freely?”

“That’s the gist of it, yes.” The mare nodded.

Apple Bloom scratched the back of her head. “Guess that explains how she got made the Element of Honesty.”

Octavia had to do her best not to collapse on the floor and laugh her tail off. The Element of Honesty… is named after a drink that loosens the tongue. Drinking applejack makes you honest. Being named ‘Applejack’ apparently makes one the embodiment of honesty.

Oh, I must tell that one to the Princesses next time I see them.

Octavia looked to the other two girls. “Everything okay, aside from a loose tongue? No dizziness, no upset stomach?”

Sweetie Belle shook her head, Scootaloo followed suit. “Nope.”

Sweetie Belle turned to pout some more at Scootaloo, though. “You really think I’m wasting my voice?”

Scootaloo grunted. “I didn’t mean it like that, Sweetie Belle. I just mean you’re really good at singing, but you never show it off.”

“But what if I don’t wanna be a singer?” The little unicorn folded her forelegs in front of her chest, clearly angry about the idea.

Octavia shrugged. “Then be a speaker. There’s plenty of uses for somepony with a voice that’s worth hearing. Our mayor has to raise her voice all the time, even Rainbow Dash has to marshal her patrols sometimes. But just because you don’t feel like doing one thing with your voice doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do anything with it.”

Sweetie Belle smiled. “Thanks.”

Octavia smiled right back.

Then Sweetie Belle grimaced and tensed up all over. Octavia suppressed a chuckle. “And that would be the final thing alcohol does: it makes your need for a restroom far more dire. The bathroom is just past the stairs, darling.”

Sweetie Belle jumped over the couch and dashed over to the bathroom, nearly tipping the table that stood next to the stairs.

Scootaloo gasped, then caught her breath. Wait a second, wasn’t there a vase there this morning?

Octavia snapped the girl out of her reverie. “So, girls, what movie is next on the list?”

Scootaloo bit her lip. “Umm, we didn’t really pick a second movie. We kinda got caught up and forgot.”

Octavia smiled and got up. “Ah, I understand. Never fear, I shall fetch us something appropriate from Vinyl’s room.”

Apple Bloom waited for Sweetie Belle to come out of the bathroom, then headed for a sanitation stop herself. Scootaloo sat back and waited her turn. “You know, Octavia’s right. This alcohol stuff is pretty relaxing. I wouldn’t want it all the time, but it’s pretty good. I feel warm all over, and relaxed. I can’t even remember what we were worried about.”

Sweetie Belle frowned. “Really? You forgot we broke Octavia’s cello?”

As Apple Bloom exited, Scootaloo dashed towards the bathroom. She came out mere seconds later. “Don’t scare me like that, Sweetie Belle.”

Apple Bloom shrugged. “At least Tavi’s getting’ all chummy with us. She won’t get mad at us now, I’m sure.”

As if on cue, Octavia’s voice came from up the stairs. “Girls? Would you mind coming up and explaining to me how this happened?”

Scootaloo’s ears drooped, her tail twitched to cover her flank and her head suddenly felt the need to inspect the rug from very close by. She sighed. “You just had to say it, didn’t you?”

Author's Note

At the inception of the fic, there was to be a scene where Octavia shows the girls tai chi boxing while they wait for their bread to be done. I cut it, mainly because Octavia came out looking a bit too saintly (and because I learned bread doesn't take that long to make in that recipe). Octy's not a perfect foalsitter, by any stretch of the imagination. She scares the girls, she basically threatens them into doing what she wants them to do.

She means well and she gets good results, but she's not totally in the right, not in my book. Giving the Cutie Mark Crusaders alcohol is a big risk, and it could end badly. But in her mind, it's something she needs to do, or the girls aren't going to be able to properly handle alcohol next time they're faced with it. Octavia is a mare who is very strongly attached to the idea that her way is right, that does not mean her ideas are the author's.

I do not condone serving alcohol to children. It is not okay in my mind to get kids drunk. However, I will go on record to say that I grew up in a country with a tradition in beer, and as such I learned to drink with friends and family, and I had my first little sips of beer when I was quite young, but it was very, very little at a time. I happen to believe alcohol should be used in moderation, and in safe situations. I also do not believe in inaccurate scare tactics, and history seems to agree with me. Even then, I'd still think twice about what Octy tries here.

As for the chapter title: wikipedia is your friend.

Octavia's Gift, Revisited

The girls marched up the stairs and stopped in the doorway. Octavia stood on her hind legs, towering over them and glaring down. She didn’t shake with anger, she didn’t tremble with outrage, she just looked at them with disappointment in her eyes.

Scootaloo cowered under the look. She was half-wishing Octavia just started shouting already. Instead, the mare pointed to what remained of her cello and posed a simple question. “Care to explain what happened?”

Scootaloo opened her mouth. Sweetie Belle stopped her and stepped in through the door. “It was my fault. I was on the chair, I fell down and knocked that crystal ball off its stand. I’m the one who broke your cello.”

Apple Bloom nudged her friend and stepped in after her. “No, it’s not. I knocked the chair when I tripped on the rug. I’m the reason you fell, I broke it.”

Scootaloo sighed and walked in to stand in between the two. “No, it’s my fault. I didn’t pay attention for a second, and I didn’t notice you two went to Octavia’s room instead of aunt Vinyl’s. I should have stopped you. I’m really sorry, Octavia, it was an accident.”

Octavia nodded solemnly. “So you all take responsibility for smashing my cello to pieces, then? That’s why you were so quiet tonight, that’s why you sounded so interested in what I had to say?”

Sweetie Belle took another step forward. “We’re really sorry, we just didn’t want you to get mad. We know we get in trouble sometimes, big trouble, but we just wanted you to like us the way other grownups like us. We didn’t want you to hate us just because of one accident. We’ll pay to get it fixed, we’ll do anything.”

Octavia stared at them more. “Careful what you say, Sweetie Belle. Do you speak for Scootaloo and Apple Bloom as well? The three of you will do anything to get it fixed? You’ll do whatever I say for as long as it takes to get my instrument repaired?”

Scootaloo gulped. There was a tightness building around her neck along with a chill on her back. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

The other two nodded in agreement. Octavia cocked her head towards the crystal ball still embedded in the thing. “Sweetie Belle, please pick up my crystal ball, then.”

Sweetie Belle slowly went forward and picked up the crystal ball.

Octavia arched an eyebrow up as the ball began to glow. The girls gasped.

The ball glowed more brightly, then hovered. Strands of light flowed forth from its core, tickling along the strings and the wood, moving the pieces closer together.

The wood fibres reached out and intertwined, the strings fused back into place, and before the girls could even blink the cello had been restored to its pristine state. Octavia picked it up and deposited it against a far wall, before taking the still floating crystal ball and putting it back on its stand. The girls’ jaws, though, she let lie on the ground. “All right, girls. I hereby consider your debt to me paid. My cello is fixed, you can stop worrying about it.”

Scootaloo blinked and rubbed her eyes to check if she wasn’t seeing things. “Did we do just do that? Do we – quick, check it!”

The girls all turned to display their rear ends, but to their dismay and confusion found no cutie marks of any description.

Octavia groaned and pressed a front hoof to her forehead. “Unh, no, Scootaloo, you did not do that. The spell on the crystal ball did that.”

Sweetie Belle’s ears perked. “Wait, that ball has a restoration spell on it?”

Octavia smiled petulantly. “Ah, I take it your sister uses that, too?”

Sweetie Belle looked on in confusion. “Umm, no. Restoration spells are really, really hard to do. Only a few unicorns can do it, and even then most of those have a talent for it.”

Scootaloo snapped out of her reverie. “Aunt Vinyl can do a restoration spell?”

Octavia nodded. “A delayed one, yes. And one that requires the broken object to be away from anything keeping its pieces apart, like that ball did.”

Apple Bloom nodded in kind. “My sister told me about that spell once. It’s like a seal you put on something before it gets broken, and then when it breaks the seal fixes it. But it really puts a drain on any magic you try afterwards, it’s kinda risky.”

Scootaloo frowned, confused. “Really?”

“Yeah, she said Twilight tried it once to stop from getting hurt when she was researching Pinkie Pie. Applejack told me it made Twilight just jump out of her bandages after she got injured, but she couldn’t so much as lift a quill for days after that. Vinyl Scratch can do that?”

Octavia nodded solemnly. “She can and she does. Her father is a true master of the spell, and he insisted Vinyl learn how to cast it as something to fall back on. Keep the family business going, so to speak. Mister Pieces taught his daughters well. One knows restoration spells, the other’s a safety expert in Cloudsdale.”

“Oh, no.” Scootaloo planted a hoof on her face and groaned, plopping her rump down at the sheer obviousness of it. “Of course, grandpa Zee knows how to do that kind of spell. I just didn’t think aunt Vinyl would know it, too.”

Sweetie Belle shook her head, still confused. “Wait, what? Your family business needs restoration spells to work? Then what is your family's business, what does your grandpa do?”

Scootaloo threw her head back in defeat. She sighed. “Grandpa Zilean sells insurance.”

Scootaloo yawned. Sweetie Belle, then Apple Bloom, followed suit. Octavia plopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote. “Think you have another movie in you, girls?”

Though their eyes were bleary and the drink had taken a lot of their usual energy out of them, they all nodded. Scootaloo stopped Octavia from hitting the ‘play’ button, though. “Are you really not mad at us?”

Octavia ruffled the girl’s mane. “I’m really not mad at you, Scootaloo. You’re only a child, after all. You can’t be expected to get through life without accidents.”

Scootaloo’s ears drooped. “Oh.” Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom pouted sadly.

Octavia spread her arms to embrace them all. “Listen, girls. You’re still little. You don’t know how everything works yet, and you can’t know if no one explains it to you. You’re not supposed to be perfect little angels, you’re supposed to be learning. And it’s my job as a responsible adult to make sure you can do that without hurting yourself.”

Sweetie Belle shuffled closer to the mare. “Would you mind telling my sister that sometime?”

Octavia smirked and nodded. “That’s different, Sweetie Belle. Adults have schedules, they have things to do, things to take care of. The only difference between me and your sister is that I had time this weekend, and I made an effort to spend it with you. Sometimes grownups just can’t find the time, that’s nothing to do with you.”

Apple Bloom yawned again. “But what if you couldn’t fix your cello? What would have happened if you didn’t have that restoration thingamajigger?”

Octavia sighed. “Girls, try to understand. You’re used to growing up in Ponyville. Things might break, accidents can happen, but ponies have gotten used to it. They accept that sort of thing. I, however, was born and raised in Canterlot, where everything is both fragile and expensive. If it were up to the Canterlot nobles, ‘childproofing a house’ would be considered Equestria’s national sport. I know you girls can cause accidents, and I know you can’t always help it. So… if you must know, if I hadn’t had that restoration spell handy, I’d have had the foresight to lock my bloody door.”

Silence fell. Octavia smiled and nodded to Scootaloo, who hit the button. “Really, girls. You might think the adults in town get angry with you sometimes because of what you do, but if you ask me I think you should consider how angry they are at themselves for letting you.”

The mood lightened, the movie started. The Cutie Mark Crusaders felt a load fall off their hearts, and Octavia smiled to herself for a night well spent.

Now all she had to do was wait for the ninjas to burn down the palace, wait for the vengeance story to be resolved, and then put the girls to bed.

She looked at Scootaloo and rubbed her back while the opening credits rolled. A feather got stuck on her hoof. Scootaloo looked up and winced. Octavia just kept up the charade without a word.

They don’t know. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle don’t know. Right then, guess I’ll just have to jump a few hoops to keep it hidden.

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom slipped into Scootaloo’s bed, Scootaloo following suit. Octavia tucked them in with a smile. They were exhausted, the lot of them. They hadn’t gotten a baking cutie mark or a movie critic cutie mark, but the attempts had been better thought out than usual, at least. They had that look of satisfaction on their faces, like it didn’t matter if they’d failed.

Just as planned. Octavia walked out and bade them good night before switching the light off. She stopped in the light of the doorway. “Oh, bother. Scootaloo, darling? I almost forgot that thing your mother wanted you to do. Just hop out for a moment, and I’ll put it on.”

Apple Bloom frowned. “What is it?”

Octavia waved away the girl’s concern. “Just a beauty cream, nothing more.”

Scootaloo slowly clambered out of bed and walked out. She rounded the corner to find Octavia standing ready with the cream and a fresh T-shirt in hoof. She sat down and presented her back, twitching already at the spreading itch. “Thanks for… you know…”

“That’s quite all right, dear. If you don’t feel your friends need to know something that personal, I’m not about to ruin it for you.” Octavia rubbed the girl’s back in, then dropped the oversized T-shirt neatly over her front legs. Then she nudged Scootaloo forward. “On you go.”

Scootaloo sighed. She walked into the dark room and joined her friends in bed. Octavia closed the door behind her, sending the room into full darkness.

Sweetie Belle, lying in the middle, sniffed the air around Scootaloo. “Your mom wants you to put on beauty cream?”

Scootaloo shuffled nervously under the sheets. “Um, yeah. It’s just something she does.”

Apple Bloom smelled the odour of the salve as well. “And where did Octavia put that cream?”

Scootaloo bit her lip and turned her back to her friends. “She put it on my back and my wings.”

Sweetie Belle prodded said back with a hoof. Apple Bloom did the same. “So your mom wants you to pretty up your back? Is that a pegasus thing?”

Scootaloo heaved a deep sigh. “No. Shedding your feathers is a pegasus thing. So is getting an itchy back if you don’t put cream on it.”

Sweetie Belle moved closer, close enough for Scootaloo to feel her warmth. “So that cream is to stop you from turning ugly when you shed, then?”

The pegasus filly clenched her eyes shut. I can’t keep doing this. They ought to know. “Promise you won’t tell anypony? Especially Diamond Tiara?”

Even in the dark, Scootaloo could tell they both nodded. “We promise.”

“Okay. The truth is that I don’t have to put on a beauty cream just because my mom doesn’t want me to get ugly. I have to put a medicinal cream on because every once in a while, I shed my feathers and it can turn my skin red overnight. I get the worst rash you’ve ever seen, it really hurts. That’s why Octavia waited ‘till the lights went out. I just didn't want you to see it.”

Apple Bloom leaned over Sweetie Belle to reach. “So that cream is for your wings? That’ll help you fly?”

Scootaloo shook her head. “Nothing will help me fly. The doctor said my wings should grow really big one day, but not anytime soon. The cream just makes it so it doesn’t hurt as much growing up. It's part of what I am, part of my breed of pegasus pony.”

Apple Bloom rubbed over that covered back. “But… Applejack told me pegasus ponies can’t sleep when their backs are wet. It’s an instinct, makes their bodies think they’re bleeding out, or somethin'. How do you sleep, then?”

Scootaloo shrugged. “I don’t. I get nightmares, okay? And really bad ones if my muscles are tense, which is most of the time. I’ll probably get them tonight, too.”

Sweetie Belle got even closer, pressing her chest against that chilled back. “Is that why you fall asleep in class? Is that why you never try to fly? Because you have to wait anyway?”

Scootaloo grunted. “Yeah. I didn’t want to tell you guys because… I just didn’t want to you to think –“

“I wanna be on the side.” Sweetie Belle crawled over Scootaloo and pushed her into the middle of the filly sandwich.

Scootaloo perked up, surprised at the interruption. “What are you doing?”

Apple Bloom wriggled into position. “Keepin’ you warm so you sleep well tonight. Unless you feel like trying to get a cutie mark again.”

Scootaloo relaxed and let the warmth spread over her body. “I don’t think that’d be such a good idea. I’m pretty sure Octavia’s standing right out the door, waiting for us to go to sleep.”

“Your aunt would do that, I guess.” Apple Bloom looked at the crack of light coming from underneath the door.

Scootaloo wriggled in between her friends, smiling contently. “She’s not my aunt. But she’s something, all right, and she’s mine. That’s all that counts.”

Right outside the door, Octavia suppressed a chuckle.

“So you don’t mind keeping me warm tonight? You don’t think I’m, you know… handi—“

“No.” Apple Bloom shook her head. “If your doctor says you just need time, then you just need time.”

Sweetie Belle nodded in agreement, stifling a yawn. “Exactly. And if you need us to keep the nightmares away, we will. We know you’d do the same thing for us.”

Scootaloo smiled and finally let her eyes drift shut. She went silent, wriggled her wings for just a moment, then nodded off. When no sound came from the room, Octavia got up from her sitting position and headed to bed herself.

The girls are asleep, Scootaloo’s worked things out about her condition, and everything in the house is still in one piece. That could have gone a lot worse.

Octavia slipped into bed and closed her eyes.

I suppose those girls do take quite a bit of time and energy to manage. Can't get them tipsy all the time, after all.

Oh well, suppose we can loosen things up some more in the morning.

The End.

Author's Note

I did intend at one point to delve deeper into how Scootaloo taking the blame for her friends is a lot like how the adults of Ponyville feel when the CMC mess up, but I cut it. I think it is worth noting, though, that a real person in that situation might be feeling some sort of guilt because those kids got into trouble right under the adults' noses, and on one occasion even at their indirect insistence.

And for those who think I've made Octatroll a thing, just keep in mind she was in a perfect position to keep her cello looking busted for as long as she wanted, saddling the girls with guilt just for the lolz. What she winds up doing is fairly mild, still.

And yeah, while I do not advocate this train of thought for raising a child (my chances of siring hellspawn of my own are slim anyway), I do feel the CMC would require at least one pony, just one, to start thinking like that. It wouldn't fix everything, it wouldn't make for a bland dynamic, it'd make the world look better, because then at least one adult shows some competence. The Crusaders basically outwit grownups on a consistent basis, that can be dangerous to themselves and to those around them. Just one mare, or stallion, to think of child-proofing things, please, and that world looks a lot better. Just one.

As for the big punchline? It was always going to be Grandpa Zilean, but I realised not everyone would get that joke, so I came up with the name Zilean Pieces to please those who don't play League of Legends. The joke for you non-Lolers is that Zilean is a champion whose ultimate is basically a seal for a friendly champion. If the champion dies with the seal on him, he is reborn with his health and mana restored for a percentage. Zilean looks like an old Father Time archetype, which is like a grandpa, and the seal and the spell here would do similar things. The unicorn's name is supposed to sound like 'zillion pieces', as in 'broken in a zillion pieces'. It's the obvious ponification there.

Also, Scootaloo has an insurance agent in her close family. Think about that for a second and tell me, wouldn't that make perfect sense?