This is a Rainbow Dash/Scootaloo scene I wrote a couple of months ago, under the assumption that Rainbow Dash will, one day, take over Spitfire's job. I don't know. I got the idea from a really cute picture showing Scootaloo as a Wonderbolt cadet. It's my favorite of the lot I'm sharing here.

“Thank you. I’ll see her now.”

The secretary made eye contact with Scootaloo and jerked his head toward the door.

“Go on,” he said.

Scootaloo shifted her weight and fluttered her wings. She felt as if she were shrinking.

“So, uh, just go in?” she said.

“Yes, miss.”

“Just let myself in?”

“Yes, miss.”

Scootaloo bit her lip and stepped up to the door, her inner filly watching as the handle rose until it was several heads above her. Her wings withered to stumps, good for nothing but pushing a scooter. She knocked at the enormous door just as her cutie mark vanished and was nearly in tears when told to enter.

Rainbow Dash loomed behind her desk. It tapered up to the sky without end.

“Close the door. Be with you in a minute,” said Rainbow Dash, not looking up from her paperwork.

Scootaloo obeyed. The click of the latch shredded the air like the eruption of a volcano.

“Paperwork! You know, if I could go back in time and tell myself this job would be mostly about dead trees, well. I’d make sure Fluttershy didn’t find out, for one.”

For the first time, Scootaloo saw a smile.

“She’s been asking after you. When did you last see her?”

“It’s been a while, uh,” said Scootaloo. It was still hard addressing Rainbow Dash by anything other than her name.

The incomplete sentence went ignored as Rainbow Dash finished. Ink was dried. Letters were sealed.

Then she looked right at Scootaloo.

She pushed herself back from her desk and rose to her full height.

“Look, uh,” said Scootaloo, backing up.

Rainbow Dash maintained eye contact and advanced.

“I did my best!” said Scootaloo, the tears threatening again.

Then Rainbow Dash reared up and embraced, pulling Scootaloo against her.

“I,” she said, quietly, “am so proud of you.”

Nothing for it. The tears came, rolling down Scootaloo’s cheeks and into Rainbow Dash’s mane. Rainbow Dash tightened her hold.

“Go on, you can hug me back,” said Rainbow Dash. “I’m gonna feel like a creep if you don’t.”

Scootaloo laughed and clung, burying her muzzle in Rainbow Dash’s mane as the tears ran.

* * *

This is a TwiDash scene I'd actually forgotten about until now. It's a bit embarrassing, now that I read it again, but here it is.

Rainbow Dash was blushing. She was actually blushing. Here, Twilight saw, was a mare who had let the city watch stand down; it was not the real Rainbow Dash, because that suggested she had ever tried to be something else, but it was a part of her kept well out of public eye.

"Bit unlike you," said Twilight. She wanted to tease, wanted to make that adorable blush worse than it already was, but she suspected that the little window she had somehow managed to jimmy open would slam shut if she even hinted at going too far.

"Yeah. Well. I don't like ponies seeing, you know?" said Rainbow Dash, quietly. There was a fragile tremolo to her voice.

Okay, thought Twilight. In context, here, that probably meant something like, it's okay if it's you. Well, no going back. Oh, things could be stopped, of course, but regardless of what she did next, their relationship had just changed, and irrevocably.

She leaned in. A hoof pressed into her chest, not really resisting, but slowing.

"Something wrong?" said Twilight.

Rainbow shook her head.

"Um," she said.

"Yes?"

"I'm scared."

"Of me?"

Rainbow shook her head.

"Of letting me see?" said Twilight.

Rainbow bit her lip and nodded.

It was remarkable. Rainbow Dash! Loyal? Good intentions? You couldn’t ask for better. But she was also arrogant, rude, that very special sort of lazy that only occurs in people who are talented and know it, and she hid behind an ego so enormous it dominated the skyline. Pile enough genuine affection onto her, though, and she turned into a sad, soaking wet kitten who didn’t even think she deserved a towel.

Twilight stroked Rainbow’s mane.

“I love you,” she said.

It was such a liberating thing to say. The word was thrown around, generalized, and buried in so much hyperbole it did not seem to have any meaning anymore, and it was shameful. Water down “awesome” as much as you liked, but “love”? It turned acquaintances into friends and friends into lifelong companions. It made you weep and hope for fictional characters. Magic of friendship? Why be so modest about it? Love was the force behind it all.

She kissed Rainbow’s forehead.

“Uh. I love you, too?” said Rainbow Dash, although, to be fair, she did not mean it to sound like a question. It was not the word she would normally use in this context, but she was worried that Twilight was about to break out a guitar and start singing folk songs.

* * *

Actually, that was a lot embarrassing. Here's some RariJack to finish off this installment. It's probably my second favorite.

Rarity whipped off Applejack’s hat and flung it away.

“Honestly, dear, don’t you ever let your hair down?” she said.

“Uh, I don’t think you’re gonna like--”

Too late. Rarity pulled off the band around Applejack’s mane. This was the moment. This was when the governess confessed her love to the swaggering something or other, probably a sailor--yes, a sailor; you don’t get much more romantic than sailors, and he was such a loveable scamp, wasn’t he--and then they would kiss, and then the string section would go berserk, and then the governess would undo her bun, and she would shake her head (in slow motion, of course), and reveal a beautiful, glorious, flowing--

--disastrous, tangled mess.

Rarity’s fantasy popped.

Applejack had a good mane. Technically. It was as soft and shiny and healthy as you like, but, unleashed from the band she usually wore, it couldn’t decide whether it was wavy, or curly, or straight, or even corkscrewed. Where Rarity had hoped, under the influence of the soppy Marequine novels she read as a guilty pleasure, it would fall like a spring mist, flatter Applejack’s quietly handsome features, and generally plump up the atmosphere with all of her favorite romantic clichés, it just fell, gave up, and sobbed until it died of misery.

It had not merely come undone. It had exploded.

“Making sure it’s out the way ain’t the only reason I keep it tied up, sugarcube,” said Applejack, as kindly as she could.

Rarity’s jaw wobbled.

“I figure the only other solution is to cut it short, but lemme tell you, I look mighty stupid with a short mane,” said Applejack.

Rarity made choking noises.

“And I know it might surprise you to know I care in the first place, but I like how it looks all tied up,” said Applejack.

Rarity’s right eye twitched.

“I mean, it’s nice and quiet and practical,” said Applejack.

Rarity was, by now, pulling some very strange faces. They did not suit her at all.

“Look, you already know the rest of me ain’t much to look at, and it’s only hair,” said Applejack.

Author's Note

Edit 12/29/13: Fair comment that I don't differentiate enough between scenes and the notes associated with them. The bold and asterisks are a quick fix, but maybe they'll help.