Blackbird

by Art Inspired

Rating: mature
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Romance, Original Character, Rainbow Dash, Gilda, Adventure, Sex, Spitfire
Length: 8309

My story about growing up without a left wing, and how I meet someone who might be able to help me with my dreams.

It’s funny, how legends are forgotten.

Sometimes, you're born without something, but at the same time, you're given something inside that makes you better without whatever it is you don't have. For me, it's my endurance. I've been waiting for my chance to fly, but without a wing, it makes things difficult. But I'm a griffin, and I don't quit. Besides, just because I don't have a wing doesn't mean I can't fly. Plus, I've met someone who can help me by assisting my father with perfecting my mechanical wing. If all goes right, I'll be up in the air once more, but there's still more things I'm gonna do too. First up, the Wonderbolts.

This was a huge collaboration project that involved a total of 8 collaborators, a final reviewer, final draft editor, and a cover artist. Including myself, that's 11 people who worked together to write the first chapter of this story in an orderly fashion.

I'd like to thank Sorren, Chuckward, Dleifragcat, Church, Twifight Sparkill, Rust, Hollyfern and Faust Fan Five for assisting and working with me on the story. This first chapter's reviewer was KillJoy. His review can be seen as the first comment, and he assisted with the story as well. The final draft editor was Syntactics. Finally, the cover artist was Conicer.

If you're going to give me praise for the first chapter of this story, you need to give all of them praise as well.

I will be writing all future chapter myself.

Rated Mature for future griffin sex scenes.

Published 2013-03-05 13:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-26 09:29:59 UTC

Chapter One: Flying

It’s funny, how legends are forgotten. The older ones have lost their meaning, retold by fathers through personal interpretation from these passed down stories of their ancestors, who, too had gotten word from their fathers, and so on and so forth, indefinitely into the past.

Confusing, isn’t it? How nothing ever stays the same... How change is constant. How the matters we measure by moments become so pertinaciously imperative that they suffocate everything else we perceive, giving no reprieve or forgiving mercy?

When things are passed down, they become distorted, twisted around to match with the most recent norms of society. The original version was still ‘there’, but it had manifested into something that was new, and monstrously different.

I never got it myself, but then, I’ve never tried telling my story either... It’s weird, upon reflection. Anyways, my name is Blackbird, and I’m a pure shadowed griffin. My father says he’s never seen more ebony fur and feathers on a griffin, as dark as night. I was born without a wing, the left one, for the matter of fact. I can solely thank Celestia for that. I’m no lefty when it comes to anything. See, that part of my body is like a drummer who doesn’t play with the tempo, but instead, he’s slower and clumsier. A pointless rhythmic stagnancy that makes no pertinent movement to the hearts that pound within others; a monochrome reminder to how I became so condemned yet was made different with a purpose.

The thought never crossed my mind, what life would’ve been like if I was born with a pair instead of just the one. Would it have made things easier or better? The simplest answer would’ve been: I don’t care, not now anyways. My heart is divided on the subject anyway - what good would it be to be whole now?

Through my younger days, my parents struggled with money, how bits were hard to come by for griffins in Equestria. Growing up, I had no choice but to live on my last legs every day, all night sometimes. It’s interesting, despite growing up practically impoverished, both my parents and I possessed an optimistic view of the world. I always sort of admired them; in fact, I still do to this day. No matter what horrible challenges they had to overcome; just to raise me, their spirit never faltered. They persevered at even the darkest of times.

I guess they’re the reason that I still dream of becoming a Wonderbolt, to perform in front of thousands despite my hefty physical disability. You see, my father told me stories about the Wonderbolts when I was much younger, about how they were the greatest of elite fliers, how they trained other ponies, and slowly decided who honed that great ability of flight to join the best of the best. Usually, though, due to their rule to allow only the best and the brightest, there was only one that made it through. Every so often, you’d see two or three, but that was only once in a blue moon, or so my father had said. At times I questioned his teachings and wondered if I too could become a Wonderbolt, but when I offered the idea to him, he told me they only took ponies. A disheartening fact if I ever heard one, but that wasn’t going to stop me. Why? Because I’m not a Pegasi, I’m a griffin, and griffins never quit, no matter what.

My mother was flat out different altogether, fierce and proud of her son, despite my shortcomings. She was half the reason my father strove to send me skyward, spurring us both on to achieve the impossible or crash and burn in the process. A harsher outlook than what a pony mother would think, but that's the way of things here. After all, if you never try, how can you ever succeed?

I know what one might be thinking at this point: how can I fly without a wing? I need two, not one! The answer was quite simple considering my father’s a mechanic. His name is Diver. He put his imaginative engineering skills to the test, and eventually made an extra light wing for me. For the most part, things would go smoothly, but during testing there would be the occasional mishap: a faulty screw, a spark from the wiring, or the wing getting jammed, they were just a few recurring annoyances that could be easily fixed. It wasn’t easy to make a false limb move as it should, managing only the barest clumsy machinations compared to the genuine article.

This one time, it was especially bad, and I plummeted to the ground nearly ending my lifelong dream to be a Wonderbolt, or really anything for that matter. Looking back now, it wasn’t the best time to have been practicing flying. It was because of this near death experience that I was to always wear a parachute for safety precautions, lest misfortune rear its deformed head a second cruel time at me.

Of course, I told my father the machine was weighing me down, and that its bulk only made flying more difficult for me, increasing my chances of crashing and burning, but he wouldn’t listen. Night after night, he’d research how to make it just right, but it never did work. Perhaps reality was better served with the laws it knew already.

Finally, being impatient as I was, waiting for him to decide when HE wanted me to fly, I snuck out to the cloud shed just as the sky turned into a dim orange, and got his latest invention. This one looked somewhat different from the others.

Curiosity coursed through my veins while I observed this peculiar design. I ran my talons against its sleek, metal surface through eyes that observed each detail of screw and bolt. It seemed to accurately represent the skeletal structure than the previous models. Coated with artificial feathers, this was to be more of use for an easier lift off, cutting through air resistance than the previous, wind-aided parachute material. Why didn’t we think of that earlier?

It was all black, to match the rest of my fur and feathers. There were also two black leather straps that would wrap around my midsection to hold it steady and in place.

As I slipped it on I noticed that it felt much different than previous versions. I’ve put these things on enough times to get any kind of wing on, mind you, but when I had that new one on, it felt different; almost unreal, in a way. It was slightly heavier as well, but not enough to prevent me this flight test. Nothing was going to stop me from soaring today.

That evening, I stood on the edge of my sanctuary, staring at the silver lining of the plush cloud only a little while away. I remembered the first time I tried to actually fly. It happened so long ago. I was so young, and the way I messed up was horrible. A few seconds in the air turned into a plummet of pain. My father swore to never let me ride without a parachute after that day. I crashed, and got one nasty scar on my left eye. It’s small, but still fairly noticeable. The biggest thing that made him go nuts over my wellbeing, though, was because he blamed himself. The wing was what cut me, and ever since then, he’s been working on it so I could fly like all griffins do, without needing to worry about getting stabbed by something that’s supposed to assist me.

This time, I think he did it. I take a running leap from the edge, send my entire torso forward, and feel the puffs of clouds leave my hind talons. As I begin to feel thrust against my chest, I spread both of my wings at the exact same time, just like in practice. This is where the weighting of the machine comes in. If dad designed the wing just right, it should be able to adjust with the air, and set me floating on my way. However, if it doesn’t, it’ll mean it’s broken, and I’ve sent myself plummeting to a typical death.

It’s a fun thing though, falling. You can sometimes take the time, and stare out at the widely expanding Equestria, and bathe in the sunlight setting in the distant mountains, right where Celestia herself resides. Just enjoy everything in that moment, and forget all thoughts about the cold hard ground inevitably breaking your fall. I’ve had two chances in my entire life. One where I was testing dads new wing, and the other was just recently, where he wanted to try the high altitude sustainers of some other model. Luckily, he was there both times to catch me, and save my life... Uh, where was I...? Oh, yeah!

The wings open, and I'm set free into the air, the feeling of being weightless against the sky overtakes me. I look down, and see the clear shadow of the replacement wing fully extended. It’s good to know the thing is in perfect working condition. I take a sharp thrust upwards, and roar right through buff feeling cloud layers. Slowly, as the droplets of water slid off my fur and feathers, I begin to see the stars. Coming to a steady halt, I hovered above the puffy plane, checking to make sure the wing survived undamaged, and I was pleased to say it wasn’t at all that bad. It had performed perfectly. I felt balance, and the wind almost guided me through my path. They worked much better, and I had a sneaky suspicion it was because I left the parachute behind, but it didn’t matter.

I returned home to relax and attend to the chores I haven’t finished yet, and to store the wing back where I found it. I was then going to tell dad about the test flight. I turned my head down as my flight descended back to the ground. It seemed I didn’t need to tell him after all. He had already known seeing how he was watching me from our house entryway this entire time. He stood there with a smile on his face that could’ve warmed anyone’s heart. I landed roughly, but still looked casual, the same as any other landing.

My father thought differently though. He wanted to observe the wing. While he did, I thought about how he’d finally figured out how to get me into the air where I belong. His head swayed over it, observing nearly every little detail. Once he was certain it was perfectly safe, durable and ready to fly, the first thing I wanted to do with it was race the creator. I looked my father in the eye while blue skies began to shade the clouds in the background. Down below, strings of cirrus clouds were casting through the sky tonight. It looked like waves underneath the ocean.

Confidence bolstered by my earlier test, I gave him a wink. “Dad, you wanna race?”

My dad was more like a playfully stubborn genius that can make miracles, yeah, but at the same time he’ll probably be so busy flying, that those miracles will remain waiting to be made. He’s got deep brown fur and extremely shaded purple feathers. His hazel eyes are another thing one would like to note. He’s got one hell of a look when he’s mad. Why, his eyes are almost darker than mine, but at night, my eyes will look so shaded, nopony could ever tell I’d have them open. He glanced at me from where he was engrossed in reading a technical spreadsheet on his clipboard filled with readouts of my very wing, no doubt. “Hmm… right now son? I think not. See, the wing might have lasted the test, but what if--”

I rolled my glossy black eyes and interrupted. “Look, the wing is fine! Seriously, it’s not gonna break on me. That’s the thing about you. You’re too protective of me.”

My father wasn’t one to lose easily, that and he liked to get a good flight in before dinner, his speed and determination could easily crush an opponent who underestimated him. As we take off towards the sun, I revel in how good it feels to fly. Sometimes, fresh air isn’t enough. For a griffin like me, if it isn’t stinging your face, it wasn’t enough. I want to be a Wonderbolt, and usually, I’m not one to let something slip away coyly. I keep at it and perspire through the pain to get what I think I can earn. I am Blackbird, and soon, I’m going to earn my way through to them.

I think that's the hallmark of our people. We never give up, even if we end up dashing ourselves against a wall of unrealistic expectations.

As we flew along, I looked over at my dad. He flew casually, gracefully, gliding on the cool breeze. With my own wing, graceful wasn’t quite as easy as a task. Lacking some of the proper muscles for ordinary flight, balance was a little harder than it would be for most griffins. My father soon noticed my troubles, however.

He looked over at me after catching my gaze. “Something to say?” he asked with a quirked brow.

I gave him a little smirk. “I’m just wondering how embarrassing it would be. You know, to get beaten in a race by your own son.”

He snorted and gave his wings a powerful flap. “We’re not racing, and even if we were, you would never win.” There was a definite playfulness to his voice, one that appeared rarely. I flapped my wings in response, feeling the mechanical appendage on my left reply in the manner I wished it to. I felt ready. Every inch of my being just wanted to let loose and fly, to give it all I had for possibly the very first time. The wing felt sturdy, almost like my real one, but not quite. My instincts just seemed to tell me it could handle anything I dished out. I flapped harder, instantly gaining speed and catching up to my father.

“Come on,” I protested, flying a little bit ahead of him. “You have to take pride in your own skill. This wing is your work; it’ll hold.”

Speeding up to catch me, he matched my pace. “I do trust my own work, but I don’t want to take any chances. You’re my son.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “So, you’re scared to race me. Is that what you’re saying?”

“In a way, yes.”

“Because you know you’re gonna lose?”

He heaved a sigh. “No, because I’m afraid for you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, don’t be.” I flew a little bit ahead of him. “Come on, just one race isn’t going to hurt anything.”

He got that thinking look about him, and I could only assume he was playing the odds out in his head. After what seemed like half an eternity, he breathed another sigh. “Okay... One race.” I swear I hadn’t smiled like that for a long time. Beating my wings a few times experimentally, I readied myself, adrenaline shooting into my bloodstream. I looked over at my dad, who sported a light smirk. He stretched his wings as he flew, eyes half-closing in exertion as he readied himself. “You wanted a race, you've got one!”

In a flash, Dad was racing for the horizon line in a flurry of feathers, which fell glossily and lightly in the shimmering golden hue of the sun. The cheater. Confidently, I chuckled, and both appendages of mine, one mechanized and one gifted to me by birth, wasted no time in starting to beat together in unison.

“Let’s see where you boys can take me,” I said, reveling in the sport, the competition that I had dared to place myself in. I felt alive, something rare for me to feel in my life. I pumped my wings even harder than I thought was possible. It was the most effort that I had ever exerted upon this curious pair of wings, but I found myself blazing through the sky in mere seconds, as if I had been discharged from the barrel of a gun. Push on, Blackbird. Push on. Faster and faster I went. It was an exhilaration unlike any other I had experienced before, the wind swam round me and pressed my feathers tightly into my skin. I lowered my head to become more streamlined, and I tucked my front claws up into my chest. My wings, ever beating, found the audacity to beat with more ferocity than I thought them capable of. By degrees, by slow but steady degrees... I was catching up to my father.

“Cheater!” I screamed ahead, partly to, yes, scold my competition for cheating, but also because I wished to convey to him that I felt fine and that I was gaining.

“You’ve got a long way to go, son!” I heard him holler back. With this, he turned the jets on. He probably had the largest wingspan I had seen on any griffon, and so I should have guessed that he was not racing to his fullest of potentials.

This only spurred me on. “Come on, baby,” I sweet talked myself, “you’ve got this!” My wings quickened the pace. I began to feel a thick sweat form over my brow, which I had to brush away deftly before it had the chance to roll down into my eyes. I acknowledged a slight pain spreading just under the spot where my artificial wing was connected to my body. I ignored it. I had to go faster. Once again, I was gaining on my father. This would impress him, I thought. This would change his mind on my dream of being a Wonderbolt.

My eyes were tearing up in the sheer speed by which I was traveling at, but through the wind and water I caught while coasting through, I found myself laughing. For the first time in my life, I truly felt... free. I could nearly touch the feathers connected to my father’s tail. I smiled, and extended a claw forward to reach them, to pester my father, but out of nowhere, any feeling I had of glee was completely eradicated by an intense pain that shot up my left side. A terrible screech of metal filled the air, followed by a black splattering of oil.

I screamed out in an agony that I hadn’t quite experienced before. It was white hot, like a dagger being jabbed repeatedly into my side. My vision faltered. My wings started to beat out of rhythm. As I looked to my left side, one of them wasn’t beating at all, but instead was smoking and sputtering, having been sorely overworked. Pushing through the air in a forward, slow dive, I felt light as a feather, but a sudden sinking feeling overtook my mind. Things became blurry due to the pain I felt within my left wing, and the falling sensation.

Sooner than I expected, I was looking at an upside down land, filled with green trees, and colorful plants. Just at the edge, there was the water, but it looked more like a long, squiggly line thanks to the blood running through my head. At that moment, I couldn’t quite think about what I was doing or what my identity could've been. It slowly... disappeared, as though nothing else existed anymore, and I know why this was. I felt it; the grip of fate. She was the judge of all life. This wasn't the first time she'd graced me with her presence. She’s the goddess that comes to mortals like me in alicorn shape, but if you’re one who’s intentions were cold and impure, her whole look changes into something demonic. I know, because I’ve seen her. She was there when I got my eye cut, and she was gaining on me while I was falling as well.

And she was here now. Strangely, all that I remember feeling before I passed out was of bitter disappointment, of failure. That, and the pair of midnight black wings that enveloped me, saved me from my free fall; they were a pair of wings that I’d never seen before in my life. As if the end had given me a pillow to lie upon, through the inevitable, dulling nothingness, I thought fate had claimed another helpless soul.

They say, when looking into fate, the cold mistress that cuts the strings keeping all the world’s beings alive, never blink. It’s because you’ll never get to see her more than once. While finally sliding into unconsciousness and feeling my shivering body loosely sway in someone’s grip, I could... I don’t know; see her form in my head. The more I closed my eyes, the more I opened them inside the dying world. She was there. Her golden, almost flaming mane coated the night sky while her eyes glared at me. Her bow extends, aims at me alone... and fires. I duck, something I thought was impossible to do at this point, and feel the bed under my body break my fall. Looking around for those bloodshot eyes, all I see is my room, and all I feel is my wing, bandaged with blots of redness seeping through the layers of coverings. I hear my father talking in the other room, and wonder what’s going on.

Outside, my mom and father are chatting with an unfamiliar voice. “Please, miss,” my mother says, “Isn’t there some way to perfect the device?”

“No. It’s not that the thing won’t work, it’s the fact that your husband didn’t take into account of the kick screws in the back might not agree to such poor quality fuel and oils. Thanks to your brilliant shopping choices, your son almost became permanently grounded.”

My dad then explained, “I didn’t know he’d sneak in and just start using it, and besides, the thing seemed to be in great working condition. I just... lost control of myself. Look, maybe we can work together to help him.”

“No. I work on my own projects. I may be a Metal Gear Merchant, but that doesn’t mean my talents can go towards anypony.”

“But... You were so fast.” And that’s when I realized something. In the haze, I saw my savior’s wing. Chrome and smooth, like my mechanize one. Could it be there’s another like me, with a robotic wing? Or even better, one that could build and repair them? The door opened, and my mother showed our guest in. My mother’s tanned fur was barely visible in the dark, but her slightly darker fur was more detectable than anything else. She wasn’t like other griffins and didn’t really enjoy flying. Still, she found herself opportunities to worry about my air time. Behind her, the griffin that saved me stood with light dancing off her steel wing.

“He looks like he needs it, but I’m low on materials. Not to mention, it’s never the same, not like the real one that you’re born with. It can’t guarantee him his dreams, but it can, probably get his sorry excuse for a racer in the air again.”

My mother perked up and asked, “Then you’ll do it?”

With a claw, she moved some feathers out from her eyes and said, “Yeah, I guess... but like I said, this here will be one of my personal experiments. He’s my test subject, and you two must put your trust and attention into me. Especially you, Diver.”

My father said, “Understood completely, Daisy.”

As they walked out, the girl who’s name, by the way, I liked a lot turned before closing the door, walked up to me and checked my wing. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, we shared this really funny, dull and emotionless stare. Her blue eyes matched her feathers while her fur, being a casual brown shimmered lightly in the room. As she left, I saw her wing extend, the right one; the one that was robotic. Every single feather seemed to be made efficiently into a small, metallic substance ten times more lighter looking than anything my father ever made.

I rolled over to my right side and fell asleep, too exhausted to be anywhere near excited about finding someone so relatable to myself. Naturally, I’ve met girls before, and enjoy their company, but Daisy was different. The aura I got from her was so unique. Like, it was as if I completely knew she had a very good heart, and that she could be trusted easily.

Author's Note

This was a huge collaboration project that involved a total of 8 collaborators, a final reviewer, final draft editor, and a cover artist. Including myself, that's 11 people who worked together to write this story in an orderly fashion.

I'd like to thank Sorren, Chuckward, Dleifragcat, Church, Twifight Sparkill, Rust, Hollyfern and Faust Fan Five for assisting and working with me on the story. This first chapter's reviewer was KillJoy. His review can be seen as the first comment, and he assisted with the story as well. The final draft editor was Syntactics. Finally, the cover artist was Conicer.

If you're going to give me praise for the first chapter, you need to give all of them praise as well.

All future chapters will be written by myself only.

Rated Mature for future griffin sex scenes.

Chapter Two: Free as a Bird

In my mind, while I slept, my imagination took hold, and I'd live tales that I've read about from various books, all of which were written by astounding authors. Sometimes, I'd be some random pony, climbing a mountain. Other times, I was the Wonderbolt's Ex-second in command, Soarin'. His book, How to Be the Best, was riveting, and one of the driving forces that inspired me to become what my dad said was impossible. In it, he claimed that anypony can be accepted into the academy. Any... pony... I thought this was where my dad got the idea that griffins couldn't join, just because of that term, anypony. I didn't believe it, though. I knew I could be the best, and that I could join them if I worked hard enough at it. I wasn't an expert flier or anything special, but I was determined.

I awoke on my stomach, facing the fog that acted as my bedroom window. I could see the sun, beautiful as ever, rising in the distant mountain peaks. As it forced light upon the land of Equestria, and morphed all the little, visible ponds down below into golden colorings, I blew a breath of natural pleasure out. At this time of the year, the weather was much cooler, so I could see the blur of air exit my beak. Observing the sun rise was always so soothing to see, like watching a grand miracle take place, mainly because that's exactly what it was. If nature did it, then it wouldn't be considered all that great, but because Princess Celestia herself brings it up and sets it calmly down in the evening, the feeling was almost always much different, if you thought of things the way I did. I felt someone's soft claw briskly glide onto my shoulders. I smiled at this, blinked my hazy eyes and thought, 'it must me mom, cleaning the metal hole in my back where my wing should be.' I was wrong, however.

As soon as I gave another relaxed sigh, agony coursed through my being. All I could feel was a metal jabber being stuck deep inside, while Daisy held my rustling body down like a bouncer at the local pub. I screamed my head off, feeling tears escape as I did. She just kept on telling me, “Hold still, you little shit! Otherwise, you'll die from this.”

I tried as best I could to keep steady while she moved the metallic rod in and out of my back. The pain was unbearable, twenty times worse then last night's free fall. That was like a small thorn pricking me on my arm compared to this. With no other way of dealing or toughing out this sort of torture, I extended my wing wide and fought back. My torso lifted itself up gradually with every small flap I exerted, struggling with her whole body that did its best to keep me down. Then, just as I was about to escape, I felt an even worse pain in my skin. A very sharp needle pierced through, and I felt the liquids enter my bloodstream. I grabbed the sheets with my talons and began to rip and even bite them to shreds. I grunted and squinted my eyes, trying hard not to pass out. Water trickled away from my eyes and dripped down from my cheeks, staining the torn fabrics below my crying face. At one point, I jerked my forehead down and banged it on the plush mattress. I was fed up with the feeling of overpowering weight coming off her body that tried so hard to restrain me. Slowly, however, the burning sensation stopped, and my entire body went completely numb. I fought the feeling, for some odd reason though. I was shaking by the time it was really kicking in. My wobbles decreased, finally, and I collapsed onto the bed, exhausted and huffing ferociously through my nostrils. I then heard her give an annoyed grunt, and felt her continue with work. Shortly following this, she took a break.

While she walked over to my side of the bed, I looked up to see her scowling at me, the kind of face that could scare anyone at any given time. Her claw slid under my beak, brought my gaze up so I could see her more clearly and held me there for a moment. She seemed really upset about having to use anesthetics on me, and once she explained why she was in such a furious mood, all I could do was feel like an idiot.

“That... was what little medicine I had, and I need to conserve it properly.” Her mouth began to curl as her anger rose. “Now, I only have two shots left... That last one, I needed for all three operations I'll be performing on you. Now, I only have two left... All you needed to do was STAY STILL! Now I'll need to head into Cloudsdale to restock... Your father will have to pay for it, though, because I'm completely broke. Good job, you little asshat!”

Her words hurt. They even left me with a sinking feeling in my gut, so I tried to say sorry, but all that came out was, “Ah'mph showrryth.”

“Don't try to talk. I can't understand a word you're saying. Just know, next time I'm telling you to hold still, follow orders, and you won't be costing your family more money.”

Shortly after that, she returned to working on my wing. I could still feel the rod digging and scraping against the bones, making me a little queasy. When she finally left, I just laid there, unsure if the stick she was using on me was still inside. I was too scared to move, certain that if I did, I'd mess her operation up even more, so I stayed down, timidly waiting for her to return and finish the job. Outside, I heard her discussing her predicament with dad. She was using the same colorful vocabulary she was with me.

“Your son is a weak little fuck! He couldn't even take a cord replacement surgery! I do that with my back all the fucking time.”

“Well he is only nineteen years old. He's still a boy!”

“Uh, does this look like the face of someone who cares?! Listen, I need to make a run to get some more pain killers. Otherwise, the last and most strenuous surgery procedure he's going to need will literally kill him. He's lucky he didn't die just now. If he kept on going, kept struggling and fighting me, that new magnetic connector I just installed would've been shot right up into his brain, scrambling everything. He's extremely lucky I acted fast and sacrificed my supplies for him.”

I heard her take some bits out of my dad's money jar that family members only used freely, making my dad ask, “Could you not just help yourself?”

“You owe me,” was her typical response. “He's still alive, and I'm going to be getting him up and out of your dingy cloud house real quickly here. Be thankful I'm only taking what's necessary and not more.” The door opened, and I heard her turn just before leaving to say, “If you, or your childish son piss me off again, I'll leave, vital equipment and all. Your son will never be able to fly again, and you'll be wishing you never crossed me in the first place. I'm very much on edge about this whole thing, so it's a good idea to stay on my good side. That means keeping out of my way when I'm working, and making sure your son doesn't fuck around like he was just now... I'll go ahead and get him a new blanket and sheets though, mainly because I'll need something to catch the blood that's sure to fall.”

The door slammed shut, my dad began cursing under his breath, and my mom came out of the kitchen to confront him about this. “Who the hell does she think she is?!” she asked with her sweet but angry voice. “I mean, I know she just wants to help, but that doesn't give her the right to go about like she owns the place!”

“Now Shyla...”

“No Diver! She's a bad influence... I'm not even sure this is worth putting up with!”

My mom had a temper when it came to disrespect. Anytime I brought home a girl from my old school, if they weren't what she thought was as close to perfect as they could be, I'd hardly ever see them again, and my dad always sided with her on decisions like that. It's one of the reasons I'm still a virgin. Depressing, but that's life. In my personal opinion, though, I found Daisy's rage ridiculously attractive.

While my folks argued about what went down, I lofted off once again, into my wild dreams. The numbing helped me rest, too. While I stayed peacefully still, lying on my stomach, I thought about how I was to adjust with this. In my moments of unsureness, though, all I needed to do was to remind myself I'm a griffin, and because of that, I knew I could overcome anything life threw at me, even if it's a swearing beauty like Daisy. Yeah, it happened again. It was obvious to me. I had a crush on her.

An hour passed by too slowly to me. That's how long Daisy had been gone, and every second that passed by, the more my mind decided it would be a good idea to beat itself up. Whenever I made a fluke, or cause something to go horribly bad, and others got on my case about it, I felt like the worst being on the planet. There's been multiple incidences, in fact, where I'd ended up ruining my father's latest wing model, or when I would do a chore completely wrong.

My folks, though they never meant it, sometimes lost their composure around me, and outright blamed me for what had happened. I could understand them, however. I was the one who caused the incidences to occur in the first place. I never meant it, but fate seemed to like messing with me in that way, because no matter how often I tried to do a better job and improve, I mostly just wound up causing more chaos than before.

They still trusted me, of course. After all, they're my folks. How could they not? I just wish, during certain moments of my life, that things didn't go down the way they did, and it seemed to be the same reoccurring problem for me. I'd say the wrong word in front of my dad's associates, or I misunderstood instructions. I knew I wasn't the only one with these sort of problems, but it still aggravated me whenever I messed up.

The front door opened, and I heard her set her bag of fresh supplies down on the soft floor outside. As she approached my room, I began to get the jitters. I hated them! I could never, ever keep still while I had them. My belly shook, my eyes watered; the whole sensation was just embarrassing. I just couldn't stand to let her see my face again. The lines under my eyes were so blotchy red from sobbing, and the displeasing expression I was making would've made me even more disappointed in myself to let her see. I started to get a cold sweat, just from thinking about her coming in and taking all her frustrations out on me again. I could hardly ever take that sort of mental pain. I think I would've rather died then be scorned even more by her. I knew there was no avoiding it though. In my heart, I knew the right thing to do was to let her vent.

She entered, silently and calm sounding. I heard her give one of those signature sighs, the kind I had heard her heave just before unleashing her rage on me earlier today, so I curled my eyes tightly shut and got ready to be yelled at even more. Instead of hearing, "I should just walk out right now on your worthless ass," I felt her plop down next to me, to my right side.

I opened my eyes and looked over for a split second to gaze at her emotionless appearance, but hastily buried my pathetic looking face underneath my furry arms and said, “Sorry...”

Thank Celestia it came out correctly, and not a fumbled mess of slurs that resembled a drunkard in the bar. I felt her wing hover over me and gently pull me in. Then, her claws grabbed my arm and forced a hug, something most unexpected. I would've bet money she was going to rant at me worse than she did earlier, but instead... She just held me closely, tugging on my chest, making me feel even more uncomfortable, and nervous. “Don't be...” she instructed. “I'm the one who should be apologizing... I guess I acted too rashly by assaulting you while you slept. I had hoped you wouldn't wake up, but I should have know better. You're new at this, unlike me. I've done it to myself for years. You probably never really had nerve connectors accurately installed, so without considering this, I didn't realize how much pain I'd be causing you... I'm the one who should be sorry.”

She then let me go, got up and stood over next to the window to look out at the distance. It was early noon, so the light that poured in bounced coyly off her robotic wing. I hadn't gotten a good look at it, but when I did that afternoon, I was amazed at the detail and obvious work put into it. The feathers had extensions that could retreat into the steel bones while diving, so that the weight and structural design didn't slow her down. Around her back hole, I noted she decided to use a different kind of metal for the edging, a kind that I had never seen before at the local street vendors. I was going to ask her what it was, with it resembling fools gold and all, but she spoke before I could get my qestion out.

“Have you been like that all day while I was gone?”

I gave a small squeal. “...Well, I thought you still had that metal rod sticking in... I can't tell if it's there or not... and, I didn't want to mess it up in case you had it aligned in a specific spot. You mean it's not even in?”

From what I could see of her face, she seemed to roll her eyes. “It's gone, and you can move or sit up at your leisure pleasure. I'll tell you if I want you so stay in particular position. If I say nothing, and leave or go and do something else, it means you can move about freely.”

Her tone told me she considered my question stupid, but I didn't care. By now, I understood she thought that way of just about anything I'd say. I sat up and stood. My legs, though, almost caved in due to my unsteady balance. The anesthetics were still in powerful effect, so it wasn't like I'd be able to walk around much, unless I wanted to fall and place myself in more pain then I already was in. My back felt tremendously sore, like a unicorn horn had been stabbed straight in the center or something, but once my grunts were met with giggles, I seemed to forget all about the searing pain running up my spine. That was the first time I heard her laugh. Even though it was aimed directly at my displeasure, the fact that she had such an adorable sounding voice made it perfectly fine.

“did... you just... let out a chuckle?” I asked, half smiling. She turned her sight to my eyes with a somewhat surprised stare, and continued to let me see her snicker, but as quickly as I had asked, the short moment of peace melted along with her smile.

“Uh... no, I didn't. I'm just-”

I cut her off, trying to revive the feeling I knew she was feeling. “Yes you were! I saw and heard you. I think-”

Claws scratched my left cheek, shutting me up immediately. Her talons literally ripped my skin open. I caught myself lying on the clouds, my right claw holding onto the bed, trying not to let my back touch the floor. Small trickles of blood slid down my cheek and oozed onto my chest fur. Her detesting eyes burned my soul thoroughly. “I wasn't laughing... and I CERTAINLY wasn't smiling.” While she walked out of the room, eyes hidden my drooping feathers, I wondered what in an Alicorn's name I had done wrong. Obviously, I hit a sensitive spot, but how was I supposed to know she didn't wish to be happy?

I felt the three fairly far apart lines left by her, smeared some of the redness away and whispered, “Whatever it was... it was fucking awesome!” Call me a masochist, but the stinging felt pleasurable to me. I'd never been slapped as hard as that, not that I'd want to be again, but, the pain was tingling to say the least. What was wrong with me?

I crawled up and onto the tattered bed, grabbed what was left of my bed coverings, and bobbed them on the incredibly noticeable scars. By the time mom and dad would see them, I had hoped they wouldn't care. I should have known better. They'd confront her about it... but for whatever dense reason I had for doing this, I'd defend her. At that point, I knew something was wrong with my brain, but I preferred it to stay just as it was: aroused and excited.

I laid on the ruined bed continuously adjusting myself. With the metal bracer plugged up with its hard lid, I never could relax on my back, let alone sleep like that. Every once in awhile, I liked to try and look up at the foggy ceiling swirling up above. It always relaxed me when I was stressed, and boy did I need something to take my mind off things. I touched my right cheek, where she cut me and rubbed the bandage while thinking about how much crap I was about to face. Mom and dad weren’t going to like this, nor would they understand. I never did like being defended, especially whenever I did something wrong and deserved what came my way.

Yes, I think what I did was wrong, because Daisy wasn’t really in the mood for laughing. She just wanted to sulk in her emotions, and if you’re anything like me, you know that means you need to mind your distance and watch what you say around her. I learned a long time ago that females are delicate beings in this world. If she doesn’t want to do something, don’t force it. Just let it go, especially with someone like Daisy.

The door opened, and I turned away recognizing those quiet steps. It was Skyla, my mom. She’d come in to check on me, so I rolled over hoping to keep these cuts a secret. I should’ve known better. “Sweetie? You alright?” she asked. I didn’t say anything, but instead, just kept my face buried in the mattress. “What's happened?”

I couldn’t ever keep anything from her. She saw right through me, so I told her, “If I show you, promise me you won’t get mad.”

No reply. Just deafening silence, the worst of its kind. So, with no other option, I reluctantly showed my beak to her. In only a second’s time, her face went from a worried and concerned state to one of fury. “W-what’s that...? What’s happened to your cheek, Blackbird?!”

“It’s just a scratch! It happened during surgery,” I lied.

She just walked out of the room, and a moment after, I heard her groan loudly in disbelief. “How could she? To my kid? I don’t think so!”

I limped my way out and confessed, “Okay, yes, she slapped me, but it was my fault. Please don’t be mad at her!”

Rage driven and uncontrollable, my mom turned to me and said the words I wished she didn't say. “I want her out! I don’t care if she’s trying to help you. Scarring your face up isn’t worth wings! I push you and your father to fly, but not at the expense of your physical appearance or health!”

I turned to the doorway, and saw Daisy standing right there. That’s the only big problem with living on a cloud. Things are so quiet, someone can waltz right into your home without you even noticing. She had an angry face that seemed to just keep growing angrier, and as I looked down, I heard her speak after a moment. “Oh, so everything I’m about to do for all of you goes unappreciated? FINE!” She turned to the door and started to exit. Before leaving, I moved faster than I thought I could, and gripped her tail with both claws while pleading for her to stay. “No, Birdy! I’m done!”

I followed her outside and continued to beg for her to reconsider while my mom just stood on the patio shaking her head. “Look,” I chanted, “If you stay, I promise complete seclusion. Mom and Dad won’t ever say a word to you. It’ll just be you and me doing the talking.” I looked at mom with pleading eyes and asked, “Right?”

Skyla sighed and said, “Yeah, I guess...”

Amazingly, just when I thought she’d simply take of with me still tugging on her tail, Daisy turned and asked, “You gonna let go?”

I did so, looked down again and said, “I really want to fly... Without you, I don’t think I’ll succeed at reaching my dream.”

She squinted and asked me, “What dream?”

Sighing, and my face lighting up at the chance to say it all over again, I explained, “Ever since I was a kid, I’ve wanted to be a Wonderbolt. The thought of being under their ranks is just so inspiring to me. That’s all I’m good at, is flying... If you’d help me with this, I’d be in your dept eternally.”

Even though I sounded completely corny, she smiled, something I thought I’d never get her to do again and said, “Heh, you know they only take ponies, right?”

I nodded and said, “I plan on changing that... but, how’d you know about their rules? It’s not something that’s common knowledge...”

She looked me dead in the eyes and said, “You’re looking at the future first griffin Wonderbolt!”

I was without words... To think, the two of us had such differences in personality, yet similarities as our wings and dreams. As I nodded at my competitor, I asked, “When are you planning on trying out?”

She frowned, finally realizing how long I’d gotten her in a good mood and said, “As soon as I’m finished with you. Then, I’m off.”

I peered to the left at my mom and asked, “You know, that’s not a bad time for me to leave, is it?”

She stumbled forward briefly and asked, “B-Blackbird, you can’t be serious...”

“... For too long, I’ve waited for this moment. With this new wing and a rival like Daisy there to push me even harder, why not?”

She remained silent, almost understanding where I came from. Daisy too. Finally, just when I turned around to head back inside, mom stopped me by saying, “I guess you have your dreams to pursue...”

I nodded and entered the house followed by Daisy. It was a serious relief, being able to get through to her. Mainly because that meant Dad wouldn’t be all that upset about my cuts either, not with her telling him it’s alright. Finally, in a little less than a week, I’d be free as a bird.