Harmony University: Riding the Storm

A couple of days later and Bluefeather left Cyclone on the second floor and rushed down the stairs to meet her on the first, knowing full well that the elevator was off limits, she didn’t want another surprise Luna attack. It was the end of another long day at CHS, the longest of all, a Friday.

It just so happened that Gilda, along with a few other students who had piled out of their classrooms, was walking past the staff door minding her own business on her way to her locker. Right at that moment, Cyclone burst out of the staff door like a wheeled comet. “Coming through!” she screeched delightedly, going way too fast, “Wohoo! Outta the way, coming through!”

Fortunately, Gilda's quick reactions kept her from being hit by the speeding wheelchair, but in the act of sidestepping her, she shoved the back of Cyclone's chair with enough force that the athlete was propelled into a wall. “Watch where you're going!” the griffon yelled angrily.

Bluefeather, who had heard Cyclone’s loud cheer on the stairs and who had seen Gilda shove her girlfriend into the wall when she rounded the stairs, shouted, “What the hell!?”

“What the…” Cyclone, caught by surprise by the hard shove, suddenly saw wall looming at her at very great speed, “Hey!” she promptly hit said wall face first and she almost spilled out of her chair. “Oh,” she grunted once she had turned around, “It's you.”

“It could have been anybody, you maniac!” Gilda growled, her temper rising like an angry serpent ready to beat some sense into the idiotic racer.

Full of panic now, Bluefeather ran up to her girlfriend just as a crowd of other students who were going to their lockers at the end of the day started to hang back and watch the scene unfolding, though they said nothing. “What's the idea shoving the chair, huh?” shot back Cyclone, who didn’t want to lose face now she had attracted an audience, “That eager to get to remedial home ec and ruin more cake?”

“I'm eager not to get run over by a loser like you!” snarled back Gilda, who had her hands curled into fists and her target locked in. Her developed biceps throbbed dangerously, in time with a vein in her forehead.

One of the boys who was watching the scene, whose name was Trefoil, suddenly became very brave, “You know you did, like rush out without warning, Cy.” At the look he received from Cyclone, his boyfriend pulled him back into the anonymity of the crowd.

When Bluefeather reached the epicentre of the scene, her first priority was making sure that Cyclone alright. Cyclone shrugged her off, not wanting to look weak, “I clearly called out 'coming through', it’s not my fault feathers-for-brains can't understand Equestrian!”

Left Long, who had pulled Trefoil back, shot back, “Dude, yelling after you've gone through the door is a bit late.”

“See,” threw in Gilda, whose temper was diminishing a little, “You only care about yourself and no one else!”

“Okay, well, leave her alone,” put in Bluefeather, who put herself in front of Cyclone between her girlfriend and Gilda, “No one got hurt. Lesson learned.”

Gilda though was unsatisfied, as was her personal honour in the situation. The idiotic loser hadn’t even apologised when it was clearly her fault! “Like she can learn anything,” she muttered loudly before she started to stalk off the way she was going to her locker.

Cyclone, who had to have the last word, said, not quite under her breath, “Moody cow!”

Though she didn’t turn around, it was clear from the way Gilda flipped Cyclone the bird as she stalked off that she has heard her. Left Long held his boyfriend’s hand supportively, “That could have been bad if you were just a second or two later coming out of there Cy.”

Crouching down, Bluefeather whispered into Cyclone's ear as the watching crowd started to disperse lest they attract a teacher’s attention, “They are right you know, brat.”

Having recovered her composure in her chair, Cyclone gave Bluefeather a rather mutinous look before she slumped and rubbed the back of her head in defeat. “Yeah, I know.”

That established, Bluefeather looked her girlfriend over closely inspecting her head and face. “You did hit that wall hard, are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” the last thing that Cyclone, ever the jock, wanted to do was to appear weak, “I didn't feel a thing!”

“You must have hit your head then,” snarked Bluefeather as she playfully tousled her girlfriend’s messy turquoise hair, “I'll check you out for bruises when we get to your place.”

“Fine,” with a sigh and an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Cyclone started to roll along by Bluefeather's side. School was out for the day and she didn’t want to be there longer than she had to be. “Whatever, you were right. I was wrong. It was my fault.”

“Yes you were, and yes it was,” agreed Bluefeather with a wide ‘I told you so’ smile, “But she didn't need to react by pushing you. Yelling would have been enough.” She then leant down for a quick kiss. “Thank you for not escalating it to a fight.”

A fight was the last thing Cyclone wanted. She was a jock, she wasn’t stupid. Even when she could walk she wasn’t much of a fighter, but now? “What am I gonna do, roll over her foot while she punches me? No thanks, Blue.”

Affectionately, Bluefeather ran her hands down Cyclone's arms, up and down her developing upper arms, where her hands lingered. “You've got some guns now,” she pointed out after a long kiss, “Just you are a sitting target.”

“I also don't have much reach though, do I?” snickered Cyclone as she flexed her arms and enjoyed Bluefeather’s swoon, “Otherwise I'd make you squeak in class,” she added with a salacious wink.

“Brat.”

“That's me!” Cyclone declared proudly with a delighted little giggle, “C'mon babes, let's get you home.”

Like Cyclone, Bluefeather was more than ready to be on her way. “Oh,” she delicately stroked her fingertips along one of those firm biceps she loved so much, “I'm defiantly going your way.”

“Cool,” as Cyclone wheeled herself outside into the rather pleasant afternoon sun, a far more important thought than school or Gilda entered her mind. “That new show starts today, 'Adora and the Magic Princesses’. All the reviews I’ve read say it's gonna be awesome!”

“We’ll have to see if it’s as awesome as you.”

“That'll make it like, triple awesome!”

~ ~ ~

Monday came around way too fast for Cyclone’s liking. She wanted to watch the Magic Princesses again, but Bluefeather had placed it under lock and key after having to endure the pilot episode for the tenth time. Or, rather, she had changed the pin number on Cyclone’s TV and not told her the new number.

After she had devoured her lunch in the cafeteria, Cyclone was haphazardly zooming along the halls of CHS in her regular wheelchair. Bluefeather was doing something boring in the library, something about researching some boring thing or other, which left the athlete to her own devices.

She could have been practising outside on the school track, but instead she chose to make the empty halls her own personal track. The hall she was currently racing her third lap along wasn’t empty for long though. From the shop room, where she had been doing extra work on her project, Gilda emerged.

Smirking broadly, Cyclone faked running the tall imposing bully over, just for the fun and giggles of it. However, even though she actually missed her target by quite a lot, Gilda was in no mood for Cyclone that day. Scowling nastily, she shoved the dowel she held in her hand into the spokes.

Now, it was a fact that Cyclone never wore the seat belt when she was in her wheelchair.

The dowel stopped the speeding chair suddenly, and immediately, which then launched Cyclone forwards out of her chair like a long dart. While she hit the wall head first and comically slid down it to land a crumpled heap, the chair came off worse. The wheel was buckled way out of shape and the back was twisted.

Fortunately, Cyclone was only bruised by her encounter with the wall. She realised quickly that the walls of CHS were beating her two to nothing, she should stop hitting them. “Who’s laughing now, huh?” demanded Gilda, who loomed over the fallen athlete with her fists clenched tight. But, out of the corner of her eye, she saw two students watching her with their phones out, and so she quickly took off.

Fleetfoot, one of the watching students, came up to check on Cyclone, suddenly brave now that the bully was gone. To her relief, the handicapped girl was only shaken. She helped to get Cyclone back in her damaged chair but it wasn’t going anywhere thanks to the damaged wheel. As quickly as she could, Fleetfoot went to get the racing chair from the basement while the other student stayed behind to keep an eye on Cyclone. Just in case.

True to form, Cyclone refused to go see Nurse Redheart. She knew she was okay; she was just aching all over where the wall had won their little tussle. Instead, as soon as she was able, she went to the Principal’s office, where much to her surprise, she saw Gilda sat in the outer office.

“I told them what I did.” Gilda didn’t look up from the seat she was sat on. She was content to sit and stare at her knees through her ripped black jeans. It was a hot competition between those and her battered heavy black boots.

“Oh yeah?” Cyclone wheeled up to the bully and in her mind she did a perfect handbrake turn. “I didn’t think I'd see you here.”

“I was so mad at you after home ec...” Gilda didn’t manage to finish her sentence before her words were swallowed up in a deep sigh. The floor was exceptionally interesting at that moment.

“Yeah,” Cyclone had a bit of a laugh on her face at the memory of the cake incident then she dropped it real quick when she saw the body language of the bully. It wasn’t the usual super confident self-assured look she normally employed. “Look, uh, it was shi...I mean, crappy, of me to laugh at you like that.”

“A bit late for that now, huh?”

Before Gilda could say anything else, the door to the office opened and there stood Luna, beckoning her forward. “Gilda, come in please.”

As Gilda disappeared into Principal Luna’s office, her secretary turned her attention to the wheelchair bound athlete. “Miss Cyclone, your detention is in the library at four, do you need to see the Principal?”

“Yeah I uh...um...” Cyclone was suddenly unsure of herself, “I was gonna tell her it's not all Gilda's fault.”

The secretary looked over her half-moon glasses at Cyclone, “What she did was pretty serious, but I can give you a pass to stay and talk with the Principal, once she’s done with Miss Gilda.”

“That'd be cool, thanks.”

Ten minutes later, Gilda came out of Luna’s office looking like a scolded puppy. “I, ah, I need to know how much it will cost to fix your chair.” Holding in her rage, that was all she said before walking out without another word or waiting for Cyclone's reply.

Cyclone, who was about to try and talk to Gilda, realised that it was probably best not to bother trying. While she was processing that, Luna opened her door once more. “Miss Cyclone, you can come in.” she heard the door close and assumed the athlete was in her office with her. “Miss Gilda said you took a spill into a wall. Are you sure you're okay?”

“My thick head absorbed the impact,” explained Cyclone, “So yeah, I was well protected.”

A laugh from Luna said she appreciated the joke for what it was worth. “Miss Gilda also told me about the home economics class, and of course the teacher confirmed it with your detention, but that is no excuse for her actions.”

“It kinda is, I mean, I did wind her up,” explained Cyclone as she nervously rubbed the back of her head like she did when she was feeling like that, “Bluefeather told me I'd gone too far into the whole not funny brat stuff.”

At last, Luna did turn to face Cyclone, utilising her dramatic turn she had been practising at home, “Not funny is injury and property damage. For your information, that you don't need to spread, is Miss Gilda will attend boiling pots after school. Until they release her, she is to pay for the damages to your chair. With that, I consider this case closed. Be cautious who you tease, Miss Cyclone. Today's outcome could have had someone in jail and Bluefeather without her girlfriend.”

“Would I have gone to jai...ooooh, I see.” Realisation suddenly dawned upon Cyclone as she got the older woman’s meaning. “I understand, yeah, I guess I've had two near misses now, huh?” she couldn’t help but feel extremely guilty, “I won't tease her again, ma'am, I don't want to see anyone locked up.”

“Ink Well will give you a pass,” Luna said as she took her seat behind her desk, her mind wandering to Cheerilee and what they would be getting up to later at home. It was far more entertaining than dealing with idiotic teenagers. “Try to keep the rumours in check in future.”

When Cyclone got to the library, she found Bluefeather already there waiting for her in the entrance foyer. Seeing her girlfriend approach, she stopped playing with the hem of her sundress, but her smile was lost to confusion. “Why are you in your racing chair?”

Letting out a sigh, Cyclone readied herself to receive her girlfriend’s tirade. “Gilda shoved some wood in the wheel of my ride, I took a spill into a wall…” predictably, Bluefeather glowered with anger on her face. “It's okay,” Cyclone quickly tried to calm her down, “Luna's sorted it. Gilda turned herself in.”

Not wholly convinced, Bluefeather quickly moved over to her and looked Cyclone over, checking her out for any cuts or bruises or even scrapes. Straight away, she saw the bruises on her face and her right arm. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“Blue I'm fine,” Cyclone rolled her eyes at her girlfriend’s incessant fussing, “I've took worse spills on the track.” she sighed dejectedly, “You were right. I was an unthinking immature brat. Again.”

Quick as a flash, Bluefeather narrowed her eyes dangerously, “Are you saying there are times when I'm not right?”

“No Mistress!” Cyclone corrected herself just as quickly, “I'm not saying that at all, Mistress.”

Amusedly, Bluefeather raised her eyebrows, “Well it is quiet in here,” she giggled, “Now, go see Ms. Just Now and I'll go read a book with no pictures.”

“Yes Mistress,” Cyclone turned and took herself over to the librarian's desk where Cheerilee’s assistant was busy working on a stack of returned books, “Hey, ma’am, I'm here for my detention.”

Wondering why she had to be the one to deal with this, Just Now pulled out an anti-bullying pamphlet from under her desk along with a piece of plain paper and a pen. “Read that,” she said shortly, “And write two hundred and fifty words on what you learn.”

Groaning deeply, Cyclone took the pamphlet, paper and pen and made her way over to one of the empty tables to get started. “Uuuuuugh...” she moaned after she was done with her pointless work and she slumped her head on the desk and wished she was anywhere but there.

Cyclone knew that now she was destined to spend the rest of the one hour time sitting at the desk doing absolutely nothing. It didn’t help that Just Now only checked in with her to make sure that Cyclone wasn't sleeping.

“Is it over yet?” wailed Cyclone despondently. Nearby, she heard Bluefeather giggling at her but Just Now refused to say anything. “Uuuugh I hate this!” Cyclone banged her head on the desk in utter frustration and settled in for the remaining thirty two minutes of terminal boreditess.

It was utter hell just sat there all quiet and non-moving, and the end couldn't come quick enough.

Eventually, when the allotted hour was up, Bluefeather put her finished book away and she walked over to her languishing pet. “Yours had pictures, but I didn't have to do a book report on mine.”

“Is that it?” Cyclone asked, a look of desperate hope plastered all over her face, “That was worse than watching Marley and Me!”

Smirking, Bluefeather got out her phone, “Someone must have that on DVD…”

“Blue please, not again!” Cyclone pleaded. If she could have gotten on her knees and begged, she would have done, right then and there in the middle of the library. “I'll do anything you want, anything!”

Bluefeather’s smirk grew wider, more victorious. “No you won't, but at least I know you'll try.”

“Can we go home now?”

“Where's your damaged chair?”

“Fleetfoot said she’d put it down in the equipment room for me.”

“Okay,” Bluefeather checked her watch and did a few calculations in her head, “We’ll need to load that up to get it fixed before we go back to your place. I’ll see you at the elevator in the basement.”

“Yes Mistress!” Cyclone was only too eager to be getting out of the library and away from all the nerdy books, and indeed away from the school as a whole. It was the end of the day and she had cartoons to watch.

Bluefeather walked with Cyclone from elevator down to the equipment room, which Cyclone had a key for, and she whistled appreciatively when she saw the extent of the damage Gilda had done. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“Yeah,” Cyclone brushed off the multiple aches and the throbbing bruise on her face, “I'm fine, it was just a wall.”

“Fine,” the roll of her eyes said Bluefeather didn’t wholly believe her, “But I'm going to check you out very closely when we get home,” she pushed the damaged chair while Cyclone took care of herself, “At least one wheel works. Let's go out the back.”

“Will you wear that sexy nurse's outfit?”

For a moment, a very brief moment, Bluefeather was tempted to say no. But, she reasoned Cyclone had endured detention. She’d suffered enough. “Of course. I do have to play the part of a medical professional to make my diagnosis!”

“Score!” hearing that, Cyclone was moving a fair bit quicker towards the exit and on her way to her van.

When they got to the blue minivan, one of only three vehicles left in the student parking lot, Bluefeather loaded the chair into the back and locked it down. She then sat in the passenger seat while her girlfriend secured herself and her racing chair in the driver’s side. “You can tell your mom and dad about this.”

“Uuugh, do I have to?” Cyclone thought she wouldn’t mind five minutes with Gilda and her fists than spending an evening with her parents clucking over her like over protective mother hens. “Fine...I suppose I really should.” She knew she couldn’t avoid that fate for long, “I guess we should get the chair fixed first, huh?”

Bluefeather nodded with a smile, “I bet it’s a total nerd shop.”

“Yeah,” Cyclone agreed as she put the van in gear and pulled out of the parking lot onto the street, “And not the cool kind of nerds either. I bet none of them have ever read a comic book in their lives.”

“So I'm cool then,” Bluefeather shot Cyclone a sly look, “As I think you read them to me in my sleep.”

Cyclone caught the sly look and she saw the trap that her girlfriend was setting for her. She wasn’t that dumb. “Yeah you're way cool. You're with me. That makes you cool, like that science thing, uh...os...osmo, that thing I can’t say.”

“Did you mean when you put an orange on your desk. sleep through class, then eat the orange at the end to gain the information through the orange by osmosis?”

Honestly? Cyclone really had no earthly idea what she meant or what Bluefeather meant any more. Ultimately she decided to play it safe. “Yeah, that one. That's what i meant. Probably.” Wisely, Bluefeather just looked smug while Cyclone drove along. “I hate that look sometimes.”

“I love you.”

Cyclone’s pout disappeared pretty quickly. “I love you, Mistress.”

Upon arrival at the repair store, Bluefeather lightly patted Cyclone on the head like she was petting a well behaved puppy. “You are a good girl,” she spoke to her like she was a well behaved pet, “You didn't go total brat on the drive here.”

“Does that mean I get a reward when we get home?” asked Cyclone hopefully as she watched Bluefeather get out and wheel her broken chair out the back ramp.

When she had the chair out down the ramp, Bluefeather looked back over her shoulder, “We're not home yet, brat.” She replied curtly, not waiting for her to get out before she moved to the repair shop.

“I wish we were at home,” Cyclone muttered under her breath as she rolled her head back on the head rest and she found her thoughts lingering on the events of the day, the spill from her chair, being an utter ass and then finally Gilda herself.

“Are you coming?” called Bluefeather who was waiting on the sidewalk.

“Yep!” Cyclone cursed herself for drifting away like that and she quickly got herself out of the van, then she hurried to catch up to Bluefeather, who had just gone into the store. The inside of which looked like any other bike shop Cyclone had ever been in. She only knew of the place at all because her parents told her about it. The counter was low enough for her and she thought the guy behind it was sat down. “Hey, how's it going, uh, you got a sec?”

The guy at the counter looked up from his magazine and, taking one look at the damaged chair, whistled appreciatively and wheeled himself around to where his new customers were stood. “Woah, what happened here?”

“Awesome, Gas Pedal,” Cyclone referred to his name tag, “We match chairs!” she giggled, “I uh...I had a spill at school. Going way too fast, a bully thought I should slow down.”

“Let me guess, a broom handle in the spokes?” Gas Pedal asked shrewdly, having encountered many of those bullies in the past.

“Wooden dowel,” corrected Cyclone, “But yeah, that.”

“That’s rough. We have wheels and axels in stock,” Gas Pedal spoke as much to himself as to the two girls in his store, “I’ll need to order the back frame, but it would be here tomorrow. Can you leave it overnight?”

“Yeah, I got this to get around in. You can fix her right?” asked Cyclone like she was asking a vet if they could save her beloved pet, “She's my first chair.”

Gas Pedal looked at Bluefeather, “Could you park it left of that door, please?” he pointed at the door in question, then turned to Cyclone. “Join me at the counter and I'll draft a cost estimate. It'll be ready after five p.m. tomorrow.”

As he wheeled himself back behind the counter and Bluefeather did as she was told, Cyclone followed him to the counter. “So uh, how much does something like that repair cost, anyway?”

“The wheel, a hundred bits. Axle that makes it work, one hundred and fifty bits. The frame is two hundred, so you’re looking at four fifty in total. That includes a complete tune up after the repair. If you’ve got twenty minutes, we can tune up your racer too. Came with the purchase.”

“I've got twenty minutes,” agreed Cyclone quickly, though her mind was racing along a whole other route, one that involved Gilda and money. “You can make her go faster?”

“No,” Gas Pedal laughed, “That's your job. We can make sure it’s operating at peak performance.” When Cyclone nodded her head, Gas Pedal pointed to an empty wheelchair by the counter. “Transfer over to that,” he said of the second tier chair, “And have a look around. There’s a nice coffee shop just down the block across from a mom and pop grocery store.”

“Thanks Gas,” with just a little effort, Cyclone transferred herself over to the empty chair, “I'll go find Blue.”

As it happened, Bluefeather had placed the chair and was busy snooping around the otherwise empty store looking at go faster decals. She saw Cyclone coming and rushed over to intercept her. “Everything go okay?”

“I'm good, Mistress,” replied Cyclone, “Gas Pedal is tuning the racing chair for me. Comes with the repair, apparently. He says there's a coffee shop down the block. You want to go get a drink?”

Quickly, just in case Cyclone had noted where she had been looking – it was a longshot, but you never knew – Bluefeather said, “Yes! Great idea.”

“Had to really twist your arm, huh?” giggled Cyclone, “Come on then, he said it was across from a grocery shop not far away.”

Out on the sidewalk, Bluefeather looked down the street to the left and then to the right. Unfortunately, nothing she saw gave away the presence of a coffee shop. So, she ducked back inside, “Which way to coffee?” smiling, Gas Pedal pointed to the left.

“Thanks!” Cyclone gave him a cheery wave but, on the way to the coffee shop, she was unusually quiet. Apparently she was deep in thought, because even Bluefeather’s attempt at conversation went unanswered. After the second attempt, Bluefeather contented herself with walking alongside Cyclone with a smile on her face, happy to look around. Cyclone was still quiet all the way to the coffee shop.

“That must be it. Stripes Cup of Java,” Bluefeather led the way across the street with Cyclone by her side. “It smells good, right Cy?” she noted that her girlfriend was still silent as they approached the counter. This was unusual. “Something weighing you down?”

“I'm thinking.”

“Usual cream coffee?”

“Yeah, please,” replied Cyclone, “But that's not what I'm thinking about.”

At the counter of the half full coffee shop, a tall rather well built zebra by the name of Grassland was the one to take their order. “Do you have Luna coffee?” asked Bluefeather of the dark green young man.

Grassland though didn’t immediately move. “You have ID?” he asked in a voice so deep it could be felt not heard.

“I’m just asking,” replied Bluefeather with a smile, “One creamy coffee and one Celestial coffee please.”

“I’ll have them right up for you,” he turned to operate the coffee machine behind him, “That’ll be eight bits, please miss.”

After paying for the drinks, Bluefeather turned to her girlfriend, “Cy, would you please get us a table and I'll be over with the coffees.”

“Yes ma'am,” Cyclone scanned the half full shop for an empty table and, when she found one over by one of the large windows, she carefully made her way over to it, all the while thinking so hard that steam could appear from her ears at any moment.

A very short time later, Bluefeather was over and she sat opposite her and slid the creamy coffee in front of Cyclone. “Okay. Talk to me.”

Cyclone looked down at her coffee like the liquid held the answers to life, the universe and everything. Sadly, it didn’t. “Gas Pedal said it'd be four hundred and fifty to fix my chair.”

“Okay,” Bluefeather mulled that over with a mouthful of her own coffee, “What did it cost?”

“Oh, I dunno, Blue,” Cyclone spread her hands apart in a shrugging gesture, “I'm not sure dad ever told me. The thing is, four hundred and fifty is a lot of bits.” It wasn’t for her, her mom and dad were loaded as all heck, but Cyclone had been taught to appreciate money.

“Yeah it is,” the more grounded Bluefeather readily agreed, “But it does look like a lot of damage. You thinking of not sending the bill to Gilda?”

That was exactly what Cyclone was thinking. “Does she look like she has four hundred and fifty bits?”

Now it was Bluefeather who shrugged, “None of us look like it, but that doesn't mean much. It’s her responsibility. Let her try to persuade you. Griffons do have that honour thing going on.”

“Yeah, that, I was thinking about that,” Cyclone said thoughtfully along with a long, slow drink of her coffee and she took her time to swallow and savour the flavour. Zebra’s did make the best coffee. “What if I suggest she works it off, get her a work experience thing with dad?”

“What?” Bluefeather exclaimed, “She's underage like us. Your dad wouldn't ever take her on. You know he only teases you about being in the magazine.”

“I didn't mean for her to appear in the magazine,” explained Cyclone with a ‘duh’ look on her face like what she was thinking was obvious, “I mean like be a runner, fetching stuff, behind the scenes assistant type stuff.”

“You know what she’s doing now?”

“Not a clue. I wouldn't even know which trailer park to find her in.” suddenly, her eyes went very wide, like she had come to a brilliant conclusion, “Rainbow Dash knows her though!”

“Pfft,” Bluefeather snorted and rolled her eyes, “Dash knows everyone. Use your settlement money to pay the repair costs and give Gilda the bill via Principal Luna on Monday and see what happens.”

“You're right,” Cyclone sipped at her coffee, “I'll do that.”

Smiling, Bluefeather looked around at the coffee shop and she liked that she saw. There were griffons sat with zebras and there was even a dragon sat in the corner. Within those, there were heterosexual and lesbian and gay couples all sat minding their own business. “I like this place and guess what?”

“What?”

“One, the customers here are just a bit older than us, and two, we're three blocks from the University.”

“You thinking about making it our college hangout?”

“Well,” Bluefeather responded like Cyclone was being particularly dumb, “Our hangout, but I guess the college kids can keep coming too.”

Looking around at the patrons in the coffee shop, the ever dense Cyclone completely missed the point that Bluefeather had made. “It's a cool looking place,” she commented at last. “Oh, look, zebras!”

Resisting the urge to facepalm, but not by much, Bluefeather leant over the table and whispered, “Looks like it’s an accepting place. Maybe even a chair jockey like you can fit in,” she added with a giggle.

“That's what I meant, accepting.”

Lightly, Bluefeather punched her girlfriend’s upper arm, “I know what you meant silly. And I'll prove it.” Again she leant over the table, but this time she placed a long, loving kiss on her lips, to no reaction at all from the other patrons.

“MMmmm, I really like that, Blue.” Whether it was the kiss or the lack of reaction she liked, she didn’t elaborate.

“Graduation looking a little closer now?”

“Yeah, I mean what with everything that's happened,” Cyclone swirled what was left of her coffee thoughtfully around in her mug, “I've kinda not been thinking about 'after CHS' much, y’know?”

She knew. Bluefeather gently tapped the bridge of Cyclone's nose. “You know your grades are going to reflect that, and I think you'd rather race full time in college and work part time, rather than work full time and have to come visit me.”

“Yeah I would, do the racing in college thing I mean. But well...I dunno, Blue.” Cyclone hated feeling like she was feeling right then. Vulnerable. “I'm not the fastest or smartest cookie in the jar, am I?”

Though she didn’t see it very often, Bluefeather recognised the vulnerable look on her girlfriend’s face at once. “You're not stupid, Cy, and I haven' t seen a cookie with wheels. But, that said, you do need to apply yourself.” Then, she adjusted her tactics ever so slightly, “We'll keep our study group going and I will get me a sexy teacher outfit and a metal ruler to keep you in line.” She hoped making it sexy wouldn’t scare her off.

“That's okay while we're not at school,” Cyclone pointed out, “What happens when I'm in class? You know I don't think as fast as the other students, by the time I've worked something out, the whole class is onto the next thing.”

Of course Bluefeather knew it, but it was a rare thing indeed for Cyclone to openly talk about it with no prodding or cajoling on her behalf. Curiously, she tilted her head. “Why do you think that is? Is it one class or all of them?”

“Math, History, Geography, Science, English,” Cyclone gestured with her hand with every subject she named, “All the hard stuff. You know my grades barely pass there.”

Bluefeather thought that over for a moment before the answer presented itself. “You want a real tutor and not me just beating sense into you? That settlement money could easily cover that.”

“Yeah,” Cyclone nodded, “I’ve got to do something drastic, Blue, or I'm not going to Harmony U, no matter how fast I race. But…I still want you beating sense into me though.”

“That is a given, my lovely brat,” Bluefeather winked salaciously, “Ask the councillor at school who they recommend. No point in someone that teaches the same way the teachers you already have does.”

“Consider it on my ‘to do’ list on Monday, babes.”

“We are going to get through this together, my beautiful brat,” Bluefeather kissed her once more, “Trust me, I'm not leaving you behind. If you leave me behind it’s only because you're racing.”

“I know,” then, Cyclone’s voice went a lot quieter, almost inaudible. “Mistress, I'll do better.”

“You will do better.” Bluefeather knocked back what was left of her coffee, “Your chair should be ready by now, so next stop is the mall.”

“Yes Mistress, the mall it is!” Like Bluefeather, Cyclone downed her coffee. The walk back to the repair store was pleasant and uneventful, mercifully. Both girls had enough excitement for one day.

At the store, they found the racer was good to go and ready for them to pick up. Gas Pedal looked justifiably proud of the tune up job he’d performed. “I double checked the paperwork. Your racer has insurance with fifty bits deductible. There was nothing on the regular chair, but it was only a thousand bits.”

Bluefeather stood stock still and blinked several times at the revelation of the wheelchair’s cost. Cyclone on the other hand was more vocal. “How much? It's a good thing I'm sat down, or I'd have fell down!”

“It’s one thousand for the one we're fixing,” Gas Pedal patted the side of the racing chair like he was patting the side of a high powered exotic supercar. “This beast right here is eight thousand. If one was to get wrecked they thought it would be the racer as it’s a tough sport.”

“Are you serious?” Cyclone could tell purely by the look on his face that he was very serious. “I can get all the Exploding Ninja Pirate merch ever made for that!”

Having recovered from her shock at the money, Bluefeather laughed out loud. “I can see you trying to pass it off as a medical expense too!”

“The account you used to buy it can be used to fix it too,” put in Gas Pedal helpfully, because he had no idea what a Ninja Pirate was or why one would explode, “But you should take the person that did it to small claims court.”

“Yeah, I'm all over that, Gas Pedal, don't worry, it's taken care of,” Cyclone then giggled at Bluefeather, “And I do mean the six foot long super deluxe galleon playset with the rigging and the working guns...”

“Then hop in your battleship,” Bluefeather barely managed to cover her broad smirk at Cyclone’s predictable outrage at her getting it wrong on purpose, “I mean galleon and board the mothership.”

“Yes Mistress!” not caring for the puzzled look that Gas Pedal gave her when he heard her refer to Bluefeather as ‘Mistress’, Cyclone quickly transferred herself from the store chair to her newly tuned up racer.

Once the good byes had been exchanged and the two girls were back in the minivan, Bluefeather couldn’t resist a little fun. “Next stop 'The Mall',” she announced like she was an air stewardess, “Please keep your head and hands inside the vehicle at all times.”

The short twenty five minute drive to the Canterlot City mall was an uneventful one, unless you counted Cyclone swearing dramatically at an old man who cut her up, which amused Bluefeather immensely, because she learned several new words to add to her vocabulary.

“You know, I really don't think you'll get away with buying toys with the settlement money,” Bluefeather added once they had found a handicapped spot to park in, “Or at least some toys. You can always try.”

“You do know I was joking right?” Cyclone snickered as she killed her van’s engine, “I mean where would I even put a six foot long galleon? Even if it does have all the rigging and working guns…”

“Well, not in me, but...” Bluefeather left that hanging in the air as she looked her brat over with an appreciative eye in the light of the van’s interior lights.

“Well, you can fit five fingers in me.”

At that, Bluefeather let out a delicious little giggle at her girlfriend’s innumeracy, “And a thumb.”

“Yeah! That makes six!” Cyclone blushed when she realised her mathematical mistake too late to cover it up. “Besides,” she changed the subject, “I'm loose. I'm not a dry dock.”

“You are a sexy port of entry, my love.” Before Cyclone could say anything to that, she placed a long hard kiss on her lips, “Now, the coffee and the muffin was nice, but I could use more fuel.”

Predictably, Cyclone’s stomach gave an extremely loud rumble, “Yeah, I could go for something too.”

“You want a BJ?”

“I can handle a foot long, Mistress.”

After a rather nice meal at the Burger Joint outlet in the mall, Bluefeather took a moment to wipe Cyclone’s chin clean of the hot sauce that had dripped there. “Okay,” she beamed, “You have been a good brat, overall. I authorize you to spend twenty dollars at the comic shop.”

“Thank you Mistress that's awesome!” Cyclone’s eyes actually sparkled with the possibilities, “I can get the new Captain Black figurine, y'know, from the Exploding Ninja Pirates movie we saw!”

For the life of her, Bluefeather couldn’t recall who Captain Black was. “It’s your twenty.”

Unable to resist the snicker, Cyclone teased, “You don't remember her do you?”

“Um, ah, well…” Bluefeather blushed at being so quickly called out like that, “I just don't know if it is less than twenty is all,” she finished with a firm nod of her head that said that was that.

Cyclone laughed almost to the point of being bratty but fortunately for her she knew when to stop, which was just on the right side of the line. “She's nineteen ninety nine, Mistress.”

“I hope you have the tax money in your pocket then,” Bluefeather then added in a low voice, “Was she one of the ninjas?”

“Yes Mistress,” replied Cyclone as three late afternoon shoppers walked past them on their way, “She was the Pirate Ninja sister of Captain White. That was Chestnut Magnifico's character. She got her real life wife to play the part of Captain Black. All she had to do was look mean.”

“Go me!” Bluefeather did a little happy dance, “I passed a Cy quiz.”

“You did, and I'm very proud of you,” Cyclone reached up and she patted Bluefeather’s head, even going so far as to tousle her blue hair. Snorting at that, Bluefeather followed Cyclone into the comic store. “Don't you worry, Mistress. You're the coolest person in here.”

“Yes I am,” agreed Bluefeather with a knowing grin, “And if there was a figurine of me in here?”

“Then it would be the coolest figurine in here, Mistress.”

Bluefeather’s grin became a warm smile, “Get your figure. But, you can look around for a bit first.” That was a ruse, and as Cyclone made her way around the store, Bluefeather slyly looked at the Power Pony figures so she could match the names to the designs.

Adorably, Cyclone was literally like a kid at Hearths Warming morning opening the biggest present first. “Oooh look! The Power Pony glitter figures!” she scooted over past a few other shoppers in the store before she set a determined look on her face, “No! Focus, Cyclone. Captain Black. She will be mine!”

The figurine in the box that Cyclone eventually picked up looked a lot like Aria Blaze, but an Aria Blaze wearing a steampunk pirate costume.

For her part, Bluefeather was happy that the unaware Cyclone had narrowed her search for Power Pony figures. She was now close enough to read the boxes, but not too close as to seem interested in them. “This figure is awesome!” Cyclone showed off her find, “Look at this, it even has shuriken throwing action! Shame it's never coming out of the box!”

“May be a good thing,” snarked Bluefeather, “I don't need you lobbing exploding shuriken grenades at me.”

“You know if I played with it, I'd wear the spring out in the arm.”

The way her girlfriend was practically caressing the box gave Bluefeather an amused thought. “When you squirt on it, will that box be enough protection, or will you need a condom bag over it?”

While Cyclone just snorted out a laugh, a couple of nearby nerds reading comics swooned on the couch they were sat on. Much to Bluefeather’s annoyance. “It seems I'm going to have to up my embarrassment game.” She huffed with her arms crossed under her breasts.

“Nice try, babes,” Cyclone giggled, “But you forget, I've had sex, they haven't.”

Playfully, Bluefeather cuffed her girlfriend upside her head, just hard enough to make her laugh louder, “To the checkout, brat.”

“Yes Mistress,” Cyclone had the figure in her lap and she wheeled herself over to the counter, where the Cashier looked just like he worked in a comic store, was waiting to charge her twenty one nineteen, with tax. Cyclone handed him a twenty five bit note and when she told him to keep the change, she was informed they didn’t take tips.

Bluefeather was quickly on hand though, “She’s a germaphobe for non-plastic toys. I'll take the change.”

Now, Cyclone was actually embarrassed at that, “Blue!” she exclaimed, and she blushed at the same time squirmed in her chair, because several very dorky people were snickering at her!

“Finally I score a point,” Bluefeather licked an index finger and drew a ‘one’ in the air and wore her ‘smug’ face. “Time for more shopping!” she promptly walked out of the store without looking back.

“Shopping!” still very embarrassed, Cyclone quickly scooted herself out of the store with the geeky laughter warming her ears.

At the entrance to the pinkest store on the planet, Bluefeather paused and turned to her girlfriend with a serious expression on her face. “We’ve been having fun. Should we try to do anything more advanced, or should we just spice up the role play?”

Right or wrong, the competitive Cyclone took that as a bit of a challenge. “I'm good with trying something more advanced, Mistress. You know I trust you.”

“I'm thinking of adding chains to go with the clamps,” Bluefeather tapped her chin, apparently deep in thought, “Maybe get some rings for your fingers and toes with chain clips?”

“I'm here for that!” Cyclone agreed readily, “That predicament thing you did in the back of the van with the clamps and chains was sweet. I'd love to do more of that kind of thing.”

“It’s almost like gaming to overcome a puzzle,” Bluefeather snickered and inside the store, she went up to the front counter. “I'm looking for the sexiest teacher outfit you have, please.”

The woman serving, Tight Loop, if her nametag was to be believed, greeted them with a warm genuine smile. “Halloween or private?”

“Very private.”

In an instant, Tight Loop had pulled out a catalogue from under her counter and she flipped through it to a page. “Here are the two female models.” She showed them to the two girls.

“Oh wow look at that one!” Cyclone pointed to the one with the extremely short skirt and the top so tight and low cut that absolutely nothing would be left to anyone’s imaginations, “You're right, that is very definitely a private outfit.”

“I think breathing will have me falling out of that one.” Commented Bluefeather, though she wasn’t against it.

“All part of the charm,” smiled Tight Loop, “We don’t have it in stock, but discreet package can be delivered to your door in two days.”

“That works,” said Bluefeather, her mind made up, “What do you have in the way of AB/DL stuff?”

Tight Loop pointed into the store, “Aisle three, in the centre on the right. There are pamphlets to order items that aren’t in stock. Something in particular you're looking for?”

“How about a nice pink crib?” Cyclone said it like a joke, then she realised Bluefeather was being totally serious.

“Take a pamphlet on that,” smiled Tight Loop as she fished one out and gave it to Bluefeather, she was clearly the one in charge. “Too much space to stock, but they are discreet in delivery, too.”

“If someone uses a nappy in a naughty way,” started Bluefeather, “I want to leave them in it without causing any serious harm, just some discomfort.”

“That we do carry,” Tight Loop’s smile remained, “There are three types of ointments that will keep away diaper rash as long as they are applied at least ten minutes before they’re needed, but you need to reapply every six hours. I think they carry a strong warning to clean up a mess with in five hours of use.”

Beside Bluefeather, cyclone was opening and closing her mouth in a good impression of a stunned fish, but no noise was coming out. Both Bluefeather and Tight Loop ignored her. “We do have a number of cute adult onesies in stock too, along with a line of toys.” She leant forward conspiratorially, “Not all of which are children friendly.”

“Okay that's kinda awesome,” commented Cyclone, who was still about the most embarrassed she'd ever been in her life.

“Chains?” again, Bluefeather spoke like Cyclone wasn’t there.

“What type?”

“Lightweight to use with clamps and such.”

Tight Loop pointed again, “Aisle two.”

“Thank you!” Bluefeather tapped Cyclone's shoulder. “Come along, Brat.” When she walked further into the store, Cyclone hurried to keep pace with her, rolling by her side. Bluefeather started with aisle two. “Wow, there are a lot of different chains. I didn't even notice these when we bought the clamps. Rings too. Four of those and what type of chain would you not mind being seen in public?”

“Um...that gold one's pretty cool, the links look nice and functional,” Cyclone looked over the ones on offer, “Not too many swirly bits.”

Bluefeather gathered up half a dozen chains in that colour, “Now to aisle three.” On one side of the middle of aisle three was all AB/DL things. “Look at all the onesies,” she breathed out as she moved over to the variety of creams.

“Yeah, I'm looking. They have a lot, huh?” the wheelchair bound athlete scanned the onesies on the shelves, it was like being surrounded by a pastel explosion, “Never knew there were so many shades of pink!”

“It is a hard shade to get on your cheeks,” commented Bluefeather with a smirk, “This cream will protect you from rash for up to five hours and masks any smell for public use. This other cream enhances the smell to highlight the stinker in the crowd.”

Cyclone giggled, “You always know when I'm blushing, Mistress,” she then took in what Bluefeather had said, and it was obvious she was doing just that.

“This one I don't want,” Bluefeather threw one cream back on the shelf, “Simulates diaper rash even in a clean and dry diaper. We're getting the smell suppression one. Pick out two onesies, but not in the shade of pink you have.”

“Why on earth would you want to stimulate that?” asked Cyclone incredulously, “It hurts like a bitch!” she surveyed the onesies on offer, and eventually she went for a yellow and a cream one.

“O. M. G.!” exclaimed Bluefeather and without warning, she grabbed Cyclone and dragged her and the wheelchair over to a section labelled 'Nappy Covers' and she pointed excitedly. “Power Pony nappy covers!”

“Oh wow! Are these for real? They're amazing!”

Happily, Bluefeather started putting them on Cyclone's lap. “There are eight of them, two Saddle Rager and one Hum Drum along with ones of the rest of the characters, “Do you want them all?”

“Yes please Mistress. Oh,” Cyclone added, “I did see these things by the onesies, cotton mittens that you Velcro on around the wrist. They must be new.”

Bluefeather thought about that for a moment, “Right now I don't want to take your hands away. Maybe something to add as our play progresses.”

“You're right. Baby steps!” Cyclone snickered at her own bad joke.

“Okay, I’ll get a couple of new pacifiers, and this,” Bluefeather giggled, “Pacifier gag is a must. Oh, and these baby bonnets. One to match what you got and what you're wearing now.”

“A pacifier gag? Now that is definitely new.”

“I think AB/DL is going mainstream,” commented Bluefeather nonchalantly, “Now let's take a look at the crib pamphlet.”

“Do they really need so many cribs?” asked Cyclone as her girlfriend opened it up and showed her the options on offer. “Surely all you need is 'crib', and you're done?”

“Some of these look more like cages than cribs.”

“Yeah, especially that one there,” Cyclone didn’t really like the one she referred to. It looked oppressive, just like a cage. She didn’t like it much. “That looks kinda scary, like if the Child Catcher had a kid, that’s what he’d keep it in.”

Obliviously, Bluefeather missed the reference that Cyclone made, but she laughed at it anyway. “Y'know, from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. The scary dude? The one I really hate and you have to hold my hand when it's on?”

Bluefeather nodded her head, but she also smiled, because she vaguely recalled the hook nosed guy with a net dressed all in black. “I like holding your hand when you're feeling unsafe.”

Automatically, Cyclone reached up and she took hold of Bluefeather's hand, “Just thinking about that douchebag makes me feel unsafe.”

Bluefeather did like the way Cyclone holding her hand like that made her feel. Like she needed to be ‘nana’d’ and taken care of, and she was the one to do it. Bending at the waist, she gave Cyclone a very sound kiss. “You'll be safe with me, brat.”

“Mmmmm I needed that, a lot.”

“To the checkout!”