Ask Scootaloo Pie


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ask-sweetie-belle asked:

I've been wondering, why do you admire Pinkamina so much? I thought you worshipped Rainbow Dash.

Miss Pinkamina lets me help with things that actually matter to her. She never gets angry at me, never yells or throws things, never just flies away when she’s tired of listening to me, never kicks me out of the house because she wants to have company over… I think she trusts me, which makes me feel kinda scared, because nopony has ever really trusted me with anything. I even do all our grocery shopping and stuff! (I think she’s happy I’m here because it lets her avoid seeing all the ponies she hates. I can understand that.)

Rainbow Dash is still… cool… I guess. I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about her now. I would probably feel different if she had never ended up taking care of me this summer. She’s fun to play with! You know that too, Sweetie Belle; I think you enjoyed doing that stuff more than I did (unlike Apple Bloom… I think I should say sorry to her for dragging her into that, but then, she’d’ve come anyway just to make sure we were alright…) I dunno. It just turns out that being Rainbow Dash isn’t as awesome as I thought. Maybe just being her friend is good.

(Pinkamina also has these amazing eyes that are really hard to look away from… um)

You’d get it if you came over. She says any of my friends are welcome as long as I tell her ahead of time, so she can get everything cleaned up first. I know you probably won’t come… she can be a bit intimidating if you don’t know how to interpret all the stuff she does. So I guess I’ll see you when school starts again?

askmolestia asked:

DOES miss Pinkamena ever MAKE you UNCOMFORTABLE!? Also: I read a CLOPFIC ABOUT YOU two!

Nah. I was freaked out at first, ‘cause I didn’t know what she was going to do with me. Now I know exactly what she gets out of everything she does: control. I like it too. I mean, when I said I liked rape—I didn’t mean that I like it on the receiving end (although it’s still exciting, in a scary way… that’s a good definition of Rainbow Dash, actually. Exciting in a scary way.) I like being in control of all the ponies, being able to make sure they won’t hurt me, to force them to do what I want… me and Miss Pinkamina don’t really feel like we need control of each-other, I think, because we both understand. I guess that’s why I feel safe with her, and why she feels… not-angry towards me. (Does she feel safe with me?)

She’s still kind of strange, I mean, eating pony-meat and stuff, but I’m okay with that. I guess you get this whole new set of experiences open to you when you aren’t being held back by what ponies say is good or bad, and now she wants to explore it all. (Also, she’s still Pinkie Pie, sort of. She seems really random when you aren’t there constantly, listening to her trains of thought as they form. When you are, though, she can actually get kind of boring; she’ll get really obsessed with a certain joke or phrase or something, trying to get it perfect before Tumblr sees it. Not that I’m not the same way—I spent all morning trying to copy one trick from a video with my scooter. I guess we’re just both used to being alone most of the time.)

And, um, send that to me please.

UPDATE: Here’s me reading that clopfic. I hope you enjoy that, Tumblr; it felt a bit exhibitionistic to write that down.

What if Sweetie Belle's number comes up? Cheerilee's? Dash's?

I don’t know. I’ve been afraid to ask. I know the written rules of the system, but my being alive means that she’s willing to bend them…

I know she thinks that killing her own “friends” would be a bad idea, because it would be a connection the police might follow. I guess it might be the same for mine, since she registered herself with Foal Services as my guardian and everything.

I hope she doesn’t kill Sweetie Belle or Apple Bloom; I don’t think she understands what all they’ve done for me since I got here. I think she thinks all friends are like her “friends.” And on that note, I still don’t know how I feel about Rainbow Dash…

typeandprint asked:

Hey there, Scootaloo! How are you?

I’m alright. I just got home from getting the last of my (not very much) stuff back from the Foal Services mare. Guess my secret place isn’t so secret any more… but that’s fine. I have my own room now. It’s on the second floor, it has a window and a bed that’s just for me and a closet and a door and the door locks. It also has a round little computer from like 10 years ago. It doesn’t have a webcam like Pinkamina’s does. It’s my other-other favorite color, though :)

I’m kind of trying to distract myself from the noises coming from the other room. Miss Pinkamina is asleep downstairs (this used to be her room; she moved her big bed and stuff downstairs so I could have my own room. I never asked her to, she just did.) The other room on this floor is the, er, play room. I brought her the filly that’s tied up in there now earlier today. Pinkamina’s new recipe actually just puts them in a kind of daze where I can lead them along by the arm like they’re drunk; I don’t have to try to balance any unconscious ponies on my scooter any more.

If you’re wondering, I’m not trying to distract myself because the noises are frightening. I’m really just trying to forget that there’s a fresh new filly in there that still probably tastes like sweat and cold fear, because I’m guessing she’s already seeping blood from pretty much everywhere, and if I went in there and started touching and licking and str… I’d need to have a bath before I would let myself touch this bed again. I spent too long sleeping on dirt; clean things are amazing to me now, and I don’t want to ruin them just by being dumb.

Are there anypony's numbers that YOU want to be drawn anytime soon?

Miss Pinkamina asked me that a while ago. I told her that it was kind of mean of her to invent this whole system so she didn’t have to stress out over who to kill next, and then ask me to stress out over the same thing. I guess she really doesn’t have any sort of empathy… but then she told me that, before she came up with the system, she did kill all the ponies that most “needed killin’” that she knew about. The ones that were so obvious that she didn’t feel any doubt in the choices at all. Maybe she thought she was being thorough, seeing if I knew about anypony really horrible that she had missed the first time. I didn’t, though.

If you’re asking because you’re one of the colts who came to the forest when they heard about the “little homeless foal who doesn’t scream and has no gag reflex,” though… well, Pinkamina doesn’t have to pull your number to throw a party in your honor. She can do that for whoever she likes.

askspikesomething asked:

I've been curious about this, but what does pony meat taste like exactly?

Depends on how you prepare it. Usually, though, it’s sweet, a tiny bit gamey, juicy and very tender. There’s never any fat or gristle in it as far as I’ve seen (and I’ve had pony steaks, ponyburgers, pony-stirfry, pony brisket…) and, surprisingly, older pony is better pony (foals just cook down to stiff muscle unless you marinate them heavily.)

Pony meat also cooks quite quickly; we have this hotplate in the play-room, and miss Pinkamina can slice a lump of meat off somepony, cook it up and feed it back to them quickly enough that nerve endings around the serrated skin are still burning when it touches their lips. Of course, sometimes it’s more fun to give it to them raw—but it’s always funny when they actually like the taste, even if it’s just part of their delirium.

(And no, before you ask, I’m not supposed to be in there with her when she’s hurting ponies—at least not yet; I’m trying to talk her into it. But it’s not like she can tear herself away from the intimacy of it once she’s started. I can just come in and sit down behind her and watch and she won’t even realize I’m there until she’s, um, done.)

But back to the topic: none of this is to say that pony meat is all we eat. I make sure to buy and prepare everything for healthy, nutritionally-rounded meals, even if miss Pinkamina sometimes tries to convince me that cheesecake is a vegetable. (I don’t know how she ever stayed alive without me here. Maybe she ate out a lot?)

typeandprint asked:

So, is this a random drawing, or do you have an ordered list?

A bit of both. You know how a Trotman works? When you tell it to play songs in a random order, it picks an order and sticks to it, but that order is random. Miss Pinkamina pulled a census list for Ponyville (I don’t know how she got that; ask the Mayor Mare, maybe?), put all the names into a file on her computer, then did something that shuffled them all around. We can know who’s coming up if we want, and can change it around: we sometimes do themes if two ponies that know one-another come up close together. But we both kind of like the drama of not knowing, so we don’t look ahead most of the time. (It’s also easier for me, personally, since I don’t have to look anypony in the eye knowing I’m going to have to come back for them in a few days.)

typeandprint asked:

So, what happens if, for example, you draw my number; but I refuse to go anywhere with you alone, because I'm not severely brain damaged.

These days, I only drug ponies if they don’t have any idea who me or miss Pinkamina is; tourists, for example. (The Canterlot Bureau of Investigations ponies who’ve started to show up here looking for Pinkamina also seem to be pretty stupid.) If it’s someone who knows about both of us, though, well… did you ever see the movie Saw? It’s about this pony who coerces this other pony into dragging these other ponies into a room and tying them up, and so forth. The mastermind-pony never really has to do a thing, other than setting things in motion.

Of course, we like getting our hooves dirty… but miss Pinkamina’s just as clever. She can pretty much cook or bake anything with the right ingredients, you know; anything anypony gives you, at any time—even things sold in the supermarket—might originally come from her. The pony who gives it to you probably won’t even know what’s in it.

You can get away from us by being a subsistence farmer, though; living off your own land and stuff. We both carefully avoid going anywhere near the Apple family farm. We don’t know if they know, but… it’s better to be safe.

If you don't mind me asking, how did you end up... helping Pinkamina anyways?

It’s a long story. In three sentences:

  1. Rainbow Dash adopted me.
  2. Foal Services took me away from her.
  3. I came to miss Pinkamina and asked her to kill me.

That probably just makes you even more confused, I know, but like I said, it’s a really long story. I could start at the beginning, I guess, if you want…?

askblindjesteranwisp asked:

Do you love Miss Pinkamina? After that kiss one would assume so . . . if now how do you feel about her?

I… she… um. I knew somepony was going to ask me this.

Me and Miss Pinkamina talked about it after. So, one thing I figured out, is that I used to be in love with Rainbow Dash. I wanted to lift her up and see her reach her dreams, to give myself to her in every way I could… and she took what I offered. Miss Pinkamina says that that’s what love feels like. And Rainbow Dash, I guess, tried to give something back… I think she just didn’t know how. She’s always been alone, like me. I don’t think being alone has really messed me up—I hope—but you don’t learn how to take care of somepony that way; and she’s been alone for a lot longer than I have. (Though, you know, there are ponies that could help her, if she would just realize it and let them; if you’ve ever seen the sad look Fluttershy has right after Rainbow Dash leaves…)

Anyway, your question. Do I love… um. So, like I was saying, we talked about it. The way I feel about miss Pinkamina is not the same way I felt about Rainbow Dash. Miss Pinkamina (you know, her name is pretty long, but it would be ridiculous to call her anything else; “Miss Pinkamina” just feels like it comes out of my mouth in a smooth, strong wave… an overbearing force… a riptide, maybe…) is warm and strong and clever and pragmatic, cool-headed when she wants to be but otherwise just dripping with slow, blood-red energy. Looking at her when she’s having fun makes my shoulderblades press together and my heart beat really slowly, and my legs and wings spread out a bit… like that kiss, it’s like how my lips felt, but all over my body. And that’s how she is almost all of the time. In control. I think the word is “apotheosis.”

Rainbow Dash, on the other hoof, made me feel tense and excited. My throat would go dry, my lips would go numb and tingle, and I would get very, very wet. All sound around me would fade to a dull roar as I looked up at her. If her eyes caught mine it would almost hurt, even though she wouldn’t look any different from normal. Looking at her mouth made me want her to bite me, not kiss me; to scratch me, not touch me; to consume me and feel me and pull me apart, like she could fuck every molecule in my body individually… and hrnnf. (Excuse me, I’ll be back in a minute.)

So anyway, Tumblr, I’m just trying to figure this out. Which one of those is “love?” I feel like I don’t feel attracted to miss Pinkamina in the way I should if I love her. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t feel emotions correctly? Maybe she’s not interested enough in me to treat me right/wrong/bad/good/Idon’tknowwhatitisbutIwantit.

Maybe it's just my interpretation of your posts, but you seem almost... scared being around Pinkamina. Are you afraid of her?

Scared is an okay word. I think “aware” is closer. Miss Pinkamina could literally do anything she sets her mind to. She has no boundaries. I know she could kill me if she wanted to, and I also know she doesn’t want to. But guessing what she’s going to do next is more like playing a strategy game than reading a book of rules; you have to actually think about what will get her what she wants, and not throw out any possibility for any reason. It hurts to think about, sometimes. But it’s definitely not a bad thing. “Exhilarating” is another good word.

You know how most ponies want to do something, but then they think of all the reasons it won’t work, or why it would a bad idea, and just never get around to it? She doesn’t do that. She’s on, all the time, always moving toward the next thing. Being a part of that is like being on a rollercoaster, or a rocketship, that just never stops accelerating.

Then again, in some other ways, she’s kind of stalled. I think it would help her if she could find some other ponies who feel good about her like I do, that she could get out of the house and visit. You know—friends. Real friends.

askmolestia asked:

Favorite piece OF bondage equipment?

Depends—for use on our victims, or on me?

For the guests, it’s fun to mix up real pain (ripping/grating/searing their flesh, breaking bones, etc.) with light-but-unignorable sensations they’ve never felt before, like from a Wartenberg pinwheel or an electrified plug. (Inflations are also fun.) Miss Pinkamina doesn’t really bother binding them any more than necessary, or giving them any sort of sensory depravation, unless she likes them and wants to let them relax for a while between sessions.

Personally, um, I have a thing for sounds. I think it’s Rainbow Dash’s fault. I also think straitjackets are neat, though I’ve never seen one in my size.

(And Tumblr is making fun of me, I think. To talk small like that, I have to use the <sub> tag. Sheesh, tell the whole world.)

demideus asked:

Whats your favorite time of day and what do you do during that time?

When miss Pinkamina and I are done for the night, we wash up together in the bathroom, and she invites me to her bed. I always say yes, so I don’t know why she keeps phrasing it so delicately every time; it’s like she’s scared I’ll say no. But I guess I do like that I have the option of sleeping up here if I’m upset with her or something.

She doesn’t do anything once we’re in bed together. I don’t know how much she knows about what I did with Rainbow Dash, but maybe she wants to pretend it didn’t happen? She seems kind of nervous to be in bed with me (that blank, sort of accusative look is how she looks when she’s nervous), but at the same time she moves in a way that seems really happy and relaxed, as if I were some big strong supercolt able to protect her from things.

Once she’s asleep, though, she curls up around me and hugs me. She’s so warm. That’s my favorite time, place, everything. And I don’t do anything but lay there and feel happy.

askmolestia asked:

Uh.. DO you ever feel pity? For victims, I mean. I DON'T I WAS just wondering if you did.

Sometimes, but not really in the way you would think. I’ve felt a lot of pain, pretty much as bad as the kind miss Pinkamina gives the ponies she plays with, and so I know it’s really not that big a deal once you stop trying to mentally reject it. You realize that pain is a part of life, and you live each moment between the painful ones as a gift. Or, you accept that your life up until this point was the gift, and you may as well finish up and move on. I’ve been in both of those frames of mind at one point or another. The only time I really feel pity for our victims is when they can’t figure any of that out before their time comes… and that’s really just their own fault.

You know, coming from thinking those sort of thoughts all last year, to my every-day life now, I have this weird, intermittent sense of euphoria; like life is like a dream that I woke up from, and then was able to fall back into but stay lucid. Everything just feels perfectly the way I want it to be.

Also, for another reason I don’t really have that much pity to give: I don’t think death is that big of a deal. That might sound weird. Let me back up.

Last winter, Twilight Sparkle was looking after Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle and me for the night, and she wouldn’t read us a story because she was so fascinated by the book she was already reading. (It wasn’t even a storybook!) So Sweetie Belle got the idea to just ask her to explain what she thought was so interesting about what was reading, in a way that any foal could understand.

Twilight had this look on her face like she was trying to judge something about us, then she looked sad, so I thought she had decided against telling us. But apparently “sad” meant yes. So she told us. I’ll try to rewrite it as best as I remember:

Equestria used to be one single place, that was pretty much all like the Everfree forest. The weather was completely random, and it got dark or light at different times of the day depending on how warm or cold it was (I have no idea what that means), and ponies had no real home of their own; they just sort of wandered around being attacked by evil creatures every day. Eventually, the ponies who had survived the darkest hardships by relying on one another found that they had a special power; a sort of light that shone from their hearts that would bring other ponies from beyond the mountains and across the sea to be near them and to meet them and to know them. This power was called love.

But the days continued to darken, and the evil inherent in the creatures of Equestria grew. The ponies, even with all their new loved ones, didn’t have the strength to fight it. So they focused all their hearts, and sent a plea out, beyond the mountains, beyond the sea, beyond the sky and stars. And, from beyond the stars, someone answered.

Arriving on the bridge the ponies had formed with their crying hearts, was a girl, a human, named Megan. She came and she rallied the ponies, showing each of them what their unique talent was, and using their talents and some clever strategy, she fought away the evil inhabiting Equestria. She taught the ponies about agriculture, about machines, about societies and economies and laws. In turn, the ponies taught her about magic. Megan, though having no natural talent for it, learned magic, and practiced, becoming more and more skilled in the art until she could do absolutely anything.

And then, one day, she asked the ponies whether they wanted to continue to live in this place, with darkness and wilderness and horror, or whether they would rather have a safe place that was… (um, what was the word?) optimized just for them. The ponies, their hearts still in pain from all the hardships they had suffered, decided they liked the sound of that.

So Megan cast a spell, a spell bigger than any spell that any of the ponies had ever seen. It encircled the entire world, and it transformed it all, making it all over according to her desires. Groves of thorns became stretches of pasture; darkened caves became sturdy wooden houses; unfordable rivers became gentle streams. Where-ever the spell touched, the land became safe for ponies, made for ponies. And Megan herself…

Twilight paused here, and looked at the page, her eyes kind of a bit red. She continued:

And Megan herself, was transformed into a pony, a great grand mare named Celestia, who would watch over the land, and make sure the ponies remained safe. And that is how Equestria was made.

Twilight put the book down. I asked her if that was everything; it didn’t seem to be a reason to cry to me. I mean, Princess Celestia is an awesome alien? How cool is that! But she shook her head and went on without the book.

I did some research a while ago that pretty much can only be explained if this is true. You see—have you girls ever used the Ponynet?

Sweetie Belle nodded, but I shook my head, and Apple Bloom just looked confused.

Well, it’s a big net of wires, going from every house to every other house, that works sort of like the telephone, but it can carry anything: voices, text, pictures, videos, games…

(I was kind of excited here, and I interrupted her to ask about the games. But anyway…)

But it turns out that, if you try to connect to a Ponynet address that’s slightly… off… uh, it’s hard to describe how it works, it involves stuff like RF shielding and ARP headers… nevermind. If you try, you can talk to ponies that don’t seem to be living in quite the same world we do. I mean, it’s the same, but it’s… not. And the weirdest thing is, there’s versions of us in all of those worlds too! One of the experiments connected to a place where there’s a me that’s living with a girl named Trixie, apparently. I kind of found that arousing amusing.

Anyway, apparently, what happened is that, when Celestia… er, “Megan” remade the world, she split it into this weird bunch of worlds that are all tied up together, and sort of overlap, so that we can talk to each other through the Ponynet. I don’t know why she did it that way; maybe it’s just part of how the spell works. The Ponynet can also talk to that world Megan came from, where everyone is a human… and there’s only one of that world. I have no idea what that means. (Those were her words that time, not mine.)

I guess Tumblr was built sometime after that, and they did some sort of clever magic or technology thing, because it lets ponies from all the different universes post on the same site. I mean, that part should all be pretty obvious—I mean, I’m following two other Pinkie Pies (Pinkies Pie?) on here!—but it’s still taking ponies a while to absorb that they might follow a friend of theirs on here who just …isn’t the same pony.

But my real point here is that, well, even if we kill someone… that doesn’t mean they’re gone. Apparently Celestia—the pony you look like—can even jump between universes at will. Maybe she can take ponies with her. I think that would mean we could literally just kill the same pony forever without running out.

Eh. My head hurts now, and the noises from the other room have stopped. Bed time.

((Wait, WHAT? You know about CEV, and you've read Yudkowsky?! That is one of the last things I expected from this depraved, fascinating blog...I notice that I'm very, very confused.))

((Very very OOC:

I’m normally a speculative-fiction/romance writer (somewhere around Bujold’s Vorkosigan books in style.) I just really like ponies, and Crookedtrees’ interpretation of Pinkamina made me realize that Cupcakes!Pinkie was almost tailor-made for being the supernatural half of a supernatural-romance—but as of yet nobody had bothered to tell her story from the sympathetic, rather than societal/judging, point of view. After a few days spent daydreaming about what it would be like to be Scootaloo, I decided to write it down.

I’m still a sci-fi writer, though; I’m finding it hard to not inject “hard” details into MLP. (I half want to convince Molestia to play her character as if she’s a glitch in the Matrix, but I know it wouldn’t be the right genre for her.) Maybe I should split these thoughts off into some actual long-form fic like HP:MoR. “Luna and Lyra Leave Wonderland”?

Anyway, here’s what Twilight’s book “really said,” for anyone who knows what these words mean:

The only way I can see the Ponyverse “coming into existence” from our own is if someone decided to run a sim with both natural biological/evolutionary elements, but also threw in a bunch of ems. (This would be Dream Valley.) The plight of those ems then tripped some supervisory mode that caused the sim-creche’s resident (human-utility-function) Friendly AI to copy an aspect of itself into the sim over a network connection (the Rainbow Bridge.) The Friendly AI then extrapolated the preferences of the sentiences and created a second simulation running within the first—a perfect open quantum-branched simulation, that it had root access to. Inspired by its own knowledge of humans, it ported itself and the ems into the inner-sim as ponies. (Not sure why it didn’t just choose to port them as humans; maybe it was on to something, though.)

The inner sim is connected to the outer sim by gradual-probability-shifting areas—ponies can literally walk from (a branch of) the inner sim to the outer sim and back again without knowing that they’ve been twice ported. One of the most common features of the Everfree forest (one of many holes in the inner sim’s “bubble” of existence) in this interpretation would be seeing your own alters also wandering through the forest, because they were on a similar-enough branch to also decide to go exploring that day (I imagine the experience would be similar to the Maze of Many; I’d never want to leave Equestria if I had to deal with that.)

Now back to Scootalove. Or maybe Scootabuse; I don’t know which I’m actually writing, from anyone else’s perspective. Scootacatharsis?))

Have you ever made Pinkamena REALLY angry?

Morning Tumblr. I put off answering this from yesterday.

The only time I’ve ever seen Pinkamina angry—really angry—is sort of the same moment I started living here. (This is part of the long story someone asked for.)

After Rainbow Dash adopted me, I got to know all the ponies she considered to be her friends a lot better; she would see them pretty much every day, and would usually drag me along (sometimes straight out of school, which was pretty cool at the time.) So, I started watching them, trying to work out what made them cool ponies in Rainbow Dash’s opinion. I noticed pretty much immediately that Fluttershy has this big thing for her, but will never, ever act on it; I think everyone knows that but Rainbow Dash herself. But I also noticed Pinkie Pie, and the end of Pinkie Pie, and the start of miss Pinkamina.

Everypony else had pretty much known her so long they didn’t notice anything changing about her, I think. I got to know her just as her old sense of self was falling apart. So I saw ponies talking about her, and around her, as if she was one thing, but I saw miss Pinkamina herself being something entirely different, and looking really frustrated, I guess because none of these ponies were really connecting to her any more. Nopony was actually talking to her. If she’d say something, they’d just call her “random” and go back to what they were doing. It was pretty sad.

I just observed this quietly at the time, though, because Rainbow Dash herself had told me earlier, in what I came to think of as my “initial briefing Re: How To Not Annoy Rainbow Dash,” that she thought Pinkie was air-headed and immature, and that it was only Twilight Sparkle and the others hanging out with her that kept her from just ignoring everything she said. I could tell she didn’t actually think of her that way—I mean, Pinkie’s really the only pony that I ever saw make Rainbow Dash laugh on purpose—but she seemed to think that I would like her better if I thought she didn’t care about things like that. So I didn’t care about things like that. But I watched.

And then the murders started.

It was all sort of taken with mild enthusiasm at first. Big news in a small town, nopony we knew, turned out they had been all sorts of screwed up; it looked like we had some sort of vigilante protecting Ponyville from evildoers. But as the bodies began to queue up in Ponyville’s tiny mortuary, the evidence linking each successive case to some big shocking scandal got thinner and thinner. Then there was nothing, just murders.

I thought, at the time: maybe the vigilante is asking us to trust her? Maybe there’s still just as much evidence, but she just doesn’t want to spend the time writing up a big package of notes and tying it neatly to the body, when there’re evildoers to thwart? Maybe she just has an intuitive sense of good and evil, and she can pick these ponies out by eye, or ear, or nose, or something, and the whole evidence-gathering thing is just her way of making sure she isn’t crazy?

But no. Pinkamina is crazy. That’s what I find strangest about all this. She’s crazy, and I don’t have a problem with that.

A few weeks later, the bodies stopped showing up altogether. Ponies were just disappearing without a trace now. The CBI were called in and did this big perimeter sweep, to make sure nopony left town for a whole week, but the murders kept happening. We were all scared by that point. Rainbow Dash wouldn’t let me leave the house unless I was with her, and then only to visit her friends in big public places, and only all of them at once. I don’t know why, but I think she suspected all of them of doing something or other.

But that’s when I noticed it. Miss Pinkamina wasn’t scared. All of Rainbow Dash’s friends were shaking and weeping and trying to comfort one-another, but miss Pinkamina was being, er, random. The same old Pinkie Pie. I could tell she was just faking it now; she had stopped being Pinkie Pie months ago. But she was faking it so well. There was no trace of fear or dread or hopelessness tinting her like it did the others. Just… nothing. She had no real emotion at all.

Miss Pinkamina stopped showing up to hang out with her friends soon after that. Nopony questioned it; I think they assumed she was too scared to leave her house, and had been hiding it really well until then. (They would almost be right, if that’s what they thought.) The murders started happening more quickly, with less time between each one.

As for Rainbow Dash, well… she had some other problems I’m not going to get into right now. She didn’t care about the murders very much. She figured nopony could really find us, living at an unlisted address so high in the air. Her home was really her own secret place; it just had walls and a bed and a couch and stuff.

It wasn’t quite secret enough either, because a mare from Foal Services eventually came right in and picked me up while I was watching TV and walked out the door. She took me down to the police station and asked me to sit quietly while she filled out some forms, then took me into a room and told me I wouldn’t be living with Rainbow Dash any more.

I didn’t know what to say to that. At the time, it hurt… not worse than any physical pain I had ever felt, but more acutely, more all-encompasingly, like there was nothing in the world but me and the fact that I wouldn’t be allowed to see Rainbow Dash any more. I think it felt like… like how I imagine it feels when you cut open a pony’s gut, and all their intestines push out from the pressure. Like falling out of the sky in pieces.

The mare took me to Rarity’s house. She’s registered with them as a caregiver: somepony a homeless foal can stay the night with whenever they need to. (Sometimes, when I had stayed with her before, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle would come over too, and we’d call it a sleepover; but sometimes it was just me.) Rarity squeezed her eyes shut really tightly, and looked like she was going to scream at something (probably at Rainbow Dash, now that I think about it), but she promised she would watch me until Foal Services could figure out what to do with me. But, she was busy like always…

So I got away. And I went to the one pony I thought wouldn’t get mad at me, or sad for me, or even be happy to see me. Who would just be nothing. Miss Pinkamina.

It was right about the time I knocked on her door when something clicked in my brain about the murders.

She yelled from what sounded like a few rooms away for me to go away. Not knowing what else I could do, I yelled back up at her, just the word “please.” First once, then several times.

I heard bumps coming down stairs. She opened the door with the strangest look on her face. (It’s her nervous look, mixed with her lustful look, and a bit of what I think must be coitus interruptus.)

She was also covered in blood.

Until that moment, I had been numbed from overload of anguish from before, even as the realization had been creeping on that I was knocking on the door of the Ponyville killer. Right there and then, though, all the pain I felt, about Rainbow Dash being taken away from me, first my dream of her and then for real; and about my own little self, like a burr in the fur of the world, not belonging or bringing pleasure, just causing pain by holding on… it all came flooding back to me. And I screamed, not in fear at the blood-covered mare, but in defeat, in torment, in negation. Miss Pinkamina later told me it was the worst scream she had ever heard.

Like I said before, I asked her to kill me then. On her doorstep, where anyone could see. That was kind of dumb, I admit.

She pulled me through the door and slammed it shut. She had no look you’ve ever seen on her, and I hope I’ll never see it again either. She said, in a completely neutral, flat, but really loud voice, “sit.” I fell off my feet onto the floor at the sound of it. Then she just stared at me.

It took her about two minutes to blink. Then she cried.

She told me she had been watching me while I was watching her. In fact, she had been watching me because I was watching her. And she had seen how Dash treated me, and she knew how I had been living before that, and she said she assumed it was probably worse than she even knew (yup.)

Then she sat on the floor beside me, looking up kind of nowhere into the air. She told me she used to live on a farm. I sort of wanted to tell her she had already told me this story, a long time ago, but I didn’t want to interrupt her. But it turns out it wasn’t the same story. It didn’t have a happy ending. She told me about how she moved away from it all, first to the city, then to this little town, and tried to use her talents in a way that made people happy. In a way that would make her happy. “But,” she said, “I just ended up feeling like a burr on somepony’s backside, you know? Not in control, not true to myself, not even really making anyone else happy on anything other than a superficial level. I had rejected a life of being nopony with a family to be nopony alone.”

Then it was my turn to stare at her. Not at the blood; I think I wouldn’t have cared at that moment if she was fifty feet tall and breathed fire. I stared at her eyes. They were sad. Searching. They were staring into mine.

Then she asked me—she has a habit of asking me things I think would have obvious answers; I think it’s a reaction to how her own family treated her—she asked me whether I still wanted to die. And, at that moment, I had no idea. I was completely engrossed in her; she had washed away everything I was thinking about. It felt good, not to think about anything. But she looked really sad still, so I tried to guess what answer she wanted to hear. “No…?”

“Good,” she said. “What do you want, then?”

I told her I would like some time to think about it. So she got up, washed her hands, and, still mostly bloodied, started cleaning the house. The whole house. I had never seen someone so focused on little tiny details until then; in a frenzy of activity, she wiped the doorknobs with disinfectant (they needed it), dusted behind the cabinets, untacked the curtains from the windows and put them in the wash (I noticed then that her eyes were this brilliant bright blue—sea blue; they’re alluring in the dark, but they’re like a poem, or a flower, or… some other beautifully-useless thing, in daylight. They shine for their own sake.)

By the time I stood up, I had a room.

kittysneezes asked:

How known is Miss Pinkamena? Like, does everypony in Ponyville know about her (and is that why you went to her?) or is it considered some dark rumor or a scary story (that just happens to be true)? Like, when you went to her, did you partly expect her to turn you away, telling you the stories weren't true?

I think I kind of mentioned it between the lines somewhere, but some ponies know and some don’t, but nopony is really sure that they know what they know. Everypony knows (now) that miss Pinkamina is some sort of shut-in misanthrope, and that you shouldn’t bother her if you see her. Everypony also knows that there’s a serial killer who actually lives somewhere in Ponyville. It seems to me that putting those two facts together is obvious… but then, before I actually saw her, I still kind of felt bad for thinking it, because it sounded like a… whatdjacallit? A prejudice. Everypony also knows that you aren’t supposed to listen to your prejudices. So I don’t know if the ponies who know, or the ponies who don’t, are the smart ones. It seems like most of the ponies we have to, er, clean up for talking about us turn out to be what you’d call “hicks”, talking out of their plots trying to scare up a mob for a witch-hunt against the weird spinster filly.

kittysneezes asked:

Did it take a while for your stomach to be able to handle pony meat? I know sometimes it's hard to digest meat when you're just used to vegetables. ((OOC: Do you have a site for your SF stuff?))

Most ponies have this huge selection of food available to them all the time, so they can eat a purely vegan diet if they choose to. I didn’t have that opportunity for a long time. When I was living out on my own, and nopony would take me in for the night, I either ate what I found (or stole, but I really didn’t like stealing from hardworking farmponies or shop-ponies) or I set traps and cooked what I caught. In very few cases did I ever snare a moving head of lettuce—so I’ve been eating a lot of meat ever since then. (And, for the most part, it was burnt, smoky, chewy, gamey, and sometimes half-raw meat; I’m really so glad that miss Pinkamina can cook, because it’s apparently not my special talent.)

((OOC: Possibly.))

askblindjesteranwisp asked:

Hi! It's me again and I have another question. What is the likelihood of me being yours and Miss Pinkamina's friend without having to worry about being pounced on when my number comes up. Also what can I do to help increase that chance?

Umm… I kind of find it hard to trust most people right now. Everyone who said they would look out for me recently has ended up hurting me. (Miss Pinkamina has never said she would look out for me; she just started doing it. Just like Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom.)

And getting Miss Pinkamina to think of you as anything you might consider a “friend” is hopeless, I think. She understands love, hate, pain, numbness, security, fear, and I think sometimes contentment. But not empathy. You either have to provide for her something that has a real, genuine benefit to her—she decided to pull our mailmare’s number, for example, because she needs to pay her bills, keep in contact with the Foal Services people, and so on—or you have to just stay out of her way and out of the system (it’s pretty easy; just get the heck out of crazy-town. I don’t know why more ponies don’t do it.)

One easy way to be useful is to help drug ponies for us when their numbers come up. (Most ponies don’t agree to this at first, but then come back after thinking about it for a while.)

But drugging ponies, or telling us when somepony’s spreading rumours about us, or any of that stuff, is only a kind of temporary reprieve. Miss Pinkamina will pull your number from wherever it is at the moment and put it back in at the bottom, but she won’t take you out completely.

I don’t know what you can do to get her to take you out permanently. I guess, maybe, if you could get her to like you… that would probably do it. But, you know, I think I’m the only pony she likes. She doesn’t even seem to really like herself.

Why are all of your answers so long?

I haven’t had anyone to talk to that would really listen to me for a long, long time. Miss Pinkamina listens, but I can’t really talk about her to her.

askblindjesteranwisp asked:

Last question I swear I'm a little obsessed with this tumblr you're such a sweetie. Anyway from your previous post you're saying that a pony such as myself who lives out in Manehatten is safe from your grasp in ponyville?

Uh… thanks? I think I’d rather be cool than sweet, though. (Wait. Did I used to want to be Rainbow Dash because she was cool, or did I want to be cool because that was what Rainbow Dash liked? I don’t know… my favorite color has always been sky-blue, though, even before I met her. I do exist separately from her. I have to keep reminding myself of that.)

If you’ve always lived out there, I think you’re safe. Once you’re on the list, though, miss Pinkamina doesn’t really care where you go; when your number comes up, she comes—or rather, I come—to you (if she can figure out where to send me.) That’s why I said to keep a low profile. If she can’t figure out where you’re living now when your number comes up (and she’ll try for a good while; I never saw her so obsessed as when she tried to figure out where a local Doctor went off to), she just bumps you back down to the bottom again.

kittysneezes asked:

Is Sweetie Belle out of the drawing? (I'd wager Applebloom is, given what you said about avoiding Sweet Apple Acres besides.)

Still don’t know. Probably. I think, though, that if I can get Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom over here and show miss Pinkamina how much they mean to me, she might get it and start liking them herself, which would make sure of it. Or it might backfire…

if you have the chance, would you like to kiss miss pinkamina again?

I’d… if she’d just stop for a minute and give me a chance, I’d…

I think she’s just scared of hurting me, or even allowing me the opportunity to hurt myself again. And maybe she might be scared, just a little, of getting hurt, too… she seems to have this idea that all her careful efforts will just get thrown back in her face, and so it’s better to just keep waiting and making herself more and more awesome and perfect, rather than actually going for what she really wants…

…well, that’s assuming I know what she really wants. I’m being kinda presumptuous for a foal who’s known her a month-and-a-half, aren’t I?

But: yes. Yes, I would. Please.

(And half the reason I’m writing these is that I know she’ll eventually read them—hopefully all at once when I show them to her. It’s a lot easier to say something like this if I’m just looking at a computer screen… I find it kind of hard to ask her for things in person.)

hey scoot, i noticed that in a molestia's question you asked for that clopfic, but i think molestia didnt send it to you D: i dont know how to put links here (they dont let me D:<) soooo.. just type "speak07 fanfiction" into google (speak07 is the author name) and check the fic called "number fifty" ^w^

Thank you Mr. Anonypony. I’m going to read it right now.

Haha, that’s ridiculous. I think, if I hadn’t lived with Rainbow Dash, but rather had just found out that miss Pinkamina had killed her… given how I used to act about a year ago, I’d probably go charging in there with tears of rage running down my face, and try to kill her myself.

And, actually, that might have worked, you know. It’s not like miss Pinkamina’s particularly muscular. It’s not like I haven’t been living on my own, mostly outdoors, all this time. I would have had the element of surprise. Huh.

That would have sucked.


Mmm, Berry Punch. She was self-marinating!

…Dear Celestia, I hope it doesn’t take her (or me, maybe) that long…

You know, Rainbow Dash did plenty of… things with me. (And Apple Bloom. And Sweetie Belle.) But she never kissed me. Only miss Pinkamina has ever kissed me. I wonder if she knows that.


If that is how you want to do things, I am totally fine with that.

That’s how I want to do things, you stupid fic! Shut up and take my money!


I actually last quite a while. Longer than Rainbow Dash ever bothered with. Sweetie Belle was nicer about it.

And actually, that sounds more like Rainbow Dash. I don’t think miss Pinkamina would talk quite like that, even while trying to get off…

…eh, whatever. clopclopclopclopclop…

((OOC: And yes, before anybody asks, I will pretty much give a public answer to any question you send me, as long as I can figure out some way of spinning it into developing Scootaloo as a character.))

Does anything bad ever happen between you and Miss Pinkamina? I mean, have you ever got into any major arguments or something of the sort with her? Obviously you two have never had any super terrible fights/arguments, but you get my point.

Well, I wouldn’t say that we’re in constant agreement about every little thing… but, well, when she doesn’t like something I’m doing, she tells me, and I stop. When I don’t like something she’s doing, I just kinda… forget to mention it for a while, and eventually it doesn’t seem like a problem any more. It was the same way with Rainbow Dash before, too. When I described it to Sweetie Belle, she called it a “D/s relationship.”

Apparently miss Pinkamina doesn’t like it, though. She says she wants me to “stop constraining myself before I force myself into a hole too small for me to fit into.” I want to do that for her, too, but it’s hard to stop; doing whatever she asks feels so good… But I really am glad that miss Pinkamina doesn’t get the same pleasure from the other side of it that Rainbow Dash did. I guess the difference is that miss Pinkamina (and I) have a release for those sorts of urges. Rainbow Dash didn’t, and probably still doesn’t. I wonder what Rainbow Dash would be like if she killed ponies…

What, exactly, makes you believe that someone as ...meticulous as Pinkemina doesn't already know about your Tumblr?

She promised she wouldn’t look at my computer, or anything I do on the Ponynet. It’s the same idea as the lock on the door, I think. She wants me to feel safe here. I trust her. So, she’ll only find it if somepony else shows her.

I know this is means nothing and quite random from a anonpony but Scootaloo I love you!

Thanks! I’m starting to see why Tumblr makes miss Pinkamina so content some nights (and angry others, but she always comes back…)


Scoota-loota-loo, I love you/

pretending you aren’t a chicken/

you’re not fooling me, ‘cause I can see/

the way your wings are flickin’~))

kittysneezes asked:

I know Miss Pinkamena's said that "Cupcakes" took some liberties (i.e. the Multi-Pony dress -- and I agree, the suit is MUCH classier than the tacky thing described in the story) -- what other things are, let's say, less than true?

For one thing, Rainbow Dash, and all of miss Pinkamina’s other “friends,” are still alive (obviously), and really have never been numbered at any point. Killing any of them would just shine all sorts of negative attention on us. Even if, at first, we just were brought in as witnesses, well… miss Pinkamina says that the pair of us make exceptionally-good scapegoats.

For the “well, I don’t make rules” part: also obviously false, as I stand here. Miss Pinkamina’s not some comic-book villain, flipping bits to decide who lives and who dies. She made the random-numbered list out of all the ponies for whom she couldn’t care whether they lived or died (which is still a lot of ponies, her being a near-as-I-can-tell-sociopath and all.) There was this whole other priority-numbered list of ponies to kill ASAP, and so on. She can make rules whenever she likes. The important thing that’s true from the story, though, is that begging will do you no good. Just because she can change the rules doesn’t mean you can give her any reason to that she’ll care about.

Miss Pinkamina doesn’t think party decor, even fake party decor made of viscera, goes well with torture or rape or murder (post-humous cannibalism can have a few balloons, but only because the victim isn’t alive to see them.) Every event should have an ambiance that works to instil the correct mood in the guest that the event is planned for. That’s why we have a costume trunk! We have to frequently burn them afterward, though—costumes usually aren’t made to be hot-water-washable, let alone bleach-able—and it’s expensive, but we do have fun.

There’s more rape, obviously. Sometimes there’s so much that miss Pinkamina puts off actually killing the pony for three or four nights in a row.

One thing miss Pinkamina never really mentions, but Cupcakes does, is how very much ponies always piss and shit themselves when they’re scared and in pain. I can get a bucket of soapy water and clean them off if I want to have some fun with them, but the room still stinks a bit and it ruins the mood. My own favorite time with our victims comes before the pain begins, when they’re just left tied up and alone in the dark.

Sometimes miss Pinkamina cries, at the end. It’s not sadness, it’s just… a release, of emotion. I think it’s the same way some ponies cry when listening to really delicate classical music.

Miss Pinkamina would never rib someone for begging and pleading and screaming and trying to reject what’s happening. Everypony does that. The second half of each session pretty much goes the same way for everypony.

I might update this entry if I think of anything else.

Just... realistically... How do you imagine this all to end?

We’ll be caught at some point. Neither of us are doing anything special to prevent that, beyond making sure nopony talks about us. There’s no law to say what happens to ponies who kill ponies. Ponies don’t kill ponies. Maybe Celestia will remake the world so that we never existed at all. Maybe she won’t care since there are so many universes in which we didn’t end up killing anypony. Maybe she’ll give us the key to Equestria and let us go wild. I have no idea, really.

It’s only about the here and now for me. As long as I’m with miss Pinkamina, I’m fine with whatever comes.

Out of curiosity, is Celestia's number in the drawing to be killed? I mean, it would kind of destroy all of Equestria if she was killed, so I doubt it, but I'm still curious.

This would almost be a silly question—but apparently the Princess personally owns the land of Ponyville as her own barony, making her a citizen of Ponyville as well as of Canterlot. I guess that’s why she’s so concerned about the place… or it could just be all the murder.

(…why do I remember this? School teaches some really useless stuff sometimes.)

Anyway, no, she’s off the list just for having no clear way to torture her, let alone kill her. I’m sure there’s something you could do with magic that might work, but neither of us can use it.

From what I can gather from your tumblr. You and rainbow dash had a sexual relationship. as well as sweetie belle and applebloom. Correct? Now I must ask you, scootaloo, What is your 1 deepest, most secret sexual fantasy. As in, anything goes, nothing and nopony is off limits. May as well get it out in the open now right? I mean, if its about miss pinkamina, she might see it and.. well... you can see where im going with this.

First part: technically correct, but really not how I would put it. There was me and Rainbow Dash, and then later Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle too, and we all sort of did whatever Rainbow Dash told us to do. It just felt like a game at first. I mean, it was a game at first; I think it started from a long game of truth-or-dare we played while Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle were over for a sleepover with me at Rainbow Dash’s loft. Rainbow Dash was kind of drunk, I think, and laying flat on her bed with her legs dangling off the side, listening to us play. And we were all starting to get kind of bored, and nopony could think of anything to say next, when she interrupted my turn and told me to come over to her and put my face between her thighs…

After she realized I was perfectly willing to do that sort of thing for her, I think she sort of shifted gears in her head. She stopped seeing me as a foal. Or, no, that’s wrong. I guess she saw me for exactly what I was for the first time: a homeless little foal who didn’t scream and had no gag reflex. Something she owned outright, and could do with as she pleased. She started showing me what my own body could do after that. She showed me things I still sort of wish she hadn’t, because then miss Pinkamina could have been the one to teach them to me… though she did take things slowly at first, I guess. She was careful to make sure we weren’t telling anypony about what we did together, before she did any more than that. At first, the other two just watched.

I still really need to apologize to Apple Bloom.

Second part: no, Tumblr, you don’t get to know my secrets. Miss Pinkamina gets to know my secrets. Once she knows, they won’t be secrets anymore—so I’ll probably tell you then. But you’ll have to wait your turn.

askmolestia asked:

What's YOUR and Miss Pink's view on "amateur" murderers? You know, the jumpy, impulsive TYPE?

They happen. I kind of find ponies who commit “crimes of passion” cute now. They get one pony killed and then they’re exiled, or shunned, or reformed, even though it’s obvious they’d never do it again and that they mostly never wanted it to happen in the first place. They’re really getting the short end of the stick; all the punishment with none of the fun.

Miss Pinkamina told me that ponies also commit those sorts of crimes more on nice, warm, sunny days, which is something I’ve always wanted to tell Princess Luna.

hydram asked:

I heard you liked rape. Care to share some pictures?

We don’t really have any cameras other than the one built into miss Pinkamina’s computer, and she doesn’t normally like to take it into the play-room because it would get just as messy as everything else gets in there. I have no idea how you’d clean that sort of thing. She takes it in with her when she’s going to do something relatively tidy with a victim… but you’ve seen some of those pictures already.

I have a folder on this computer of pictures (it’s too old to really play videos, sadly) from the Ponynet that I might want to clop to at some point… but I’ve only been collecting this stuff for a month or so; everypony on here should probably have more of this sort of thing than I do. Also, you know, we have somepony or another strung up in the play-room pretty much every night… I’ve found very little reason to resort to fantasy.

typeandprint asked:

All right, I've got a question, and ignore me if you've answered this but; why? Why do you enjoy this? You are a child, what corruption of your precious innocence has turned you into this? How can you actually derive pleasure from harming these innocent ponies?

Okay, I’m not much of a fillylosopher, but I’ll try to explain this in a more general way than just “because I went through a bunch of stuff that hurt.”

First—nopony is really innocent. Although we don’t have to fight over food and shelter like animals, our world is still zero-sum in a lot of ways. From the moment you’re born, you start depriving other ponies of time, space, attention, information, energy, connection… love …all just by being alive. We all fight for these things our entire lives; when we stop fighting, we don’t get any more, and we’re just left with an empty, painful gap. Sometimes we never get some of these precious things to begin with, and so we never know that the pain is due to a gap, or that we should be trying to fill it, rather than just feeling angry at it for being there, and angry at everyone else for seemingly not sharing the same pain…

Anyway, miss Pinkamina fights hard for her precious things, and I fight for mine. That we have to get what we need by taking something away from others is… natural? It feels obvious—instinctive—to me that hurting and killing ponies should feel good, just like it was pretty obvious each time Rainbow Dash played with me that she was doing it because it felt good, even if it didn’t really feel that great for me most of the time.

There’s another feeling on top of that instinct, though, a feeling that tells most ponies to not do things that might cut off their supply of the things they need. For ponies that rely on society for everything, this feeling tells them to defend one-another, and to exclude ponies who don’t help in doing that, because they’re acting as parasites within society.

But if you don’t listen to that feeling—or if you don’t have it—the world looks different. It looks like a bunch of silly ponies doing silly dances for no reason, fighting over a tiny little pile of precious things while the big pieces are just left laying around, and everypony is just ignoring them and not picking them up. So you take one for yourself. And then another. And then you wonder if they see you there—but they don’t, because they’re not even looking away from their own pieces long enough to see yours.

…gosh that sounded dumb. Miss Pinkamina would probably just say something pithy like “Scootaloo threw out her old life. After that, she got to design a replacement, instead of just growing into it.”

askblindjesteranwisp asked:

Gah I keep coming back for more! Anyway my next question is does Miss Pinkamina still sing? I hope so she has such a lovely voice!

She sings?

…Oh! You mean, you’ve heard Pinkie Pie sing. I can imagine what that sounds like. She really does have a great vocal range, doesn’t she?

Hmm… I’d love to hear her… though I bet it wouldn’t be anything like what you heard before. Maybe she’d sing something just for me, if I asked… mmm.

I’m going to head downstairs. As far as miss Pinkamina knows, I’ve just been up here clopping for the last three hours. See you tomorrow, Tumblr.

askmolestia asked:

((OOC: Someone could now start an "Ask FluttershyPie" if they wanted to get even more tertiary. Anyway, I just wanted to compliment your stuff because I actually don't know how I should feel about the characters. Uncomfortable, but empathetic. This is good ambiguity you're putting up here. I wish I could develop Molestia's character more meself, but something tells me mine's more of a joke-y ask blog anyway. So, uh, good job, and pony on.))


Yay! That’s the feeling I’m aiming at; nothing about these characters should be black or white; they’re just bundles of desires that tend to conflict. “Evil” is something you label a desire opposed to yours that you don’t understand. “Selfless” is something you label a desire in line with yours that you don’t understand.

To wit: Fluttershy does, in fact, get off on martyring herself to “help Pinkie,” and she also gets a release for those “obnoxious impulses” she has; she could never seek one out herself. She’s a much more centered and self-assured pony for weeks after each session.

I think FluttershyPie would be a nice idea, though it might be kind of static/flat; she’s basically the Sakaki of this universe, and really won’t get anything she wants until an Iriomote-yamapony (i.e. Rainbow Dash) decides to follow her home.

I’m really wishing someone would do something with this universe’s Sweetie Belle, though, so Scootaloo would have somepony to have public Tumblr conversations with. Maybe I’ll give her and Cupcakes!Rarity some characterization first (I want to use this thing Trees painted, but I have no idea what it means.)

Also, here’s a modblog for anyone who wants to send me any other totally-OOC things like this.))

WHAT... is the maximum groundspeed of an unladen scooter?

Alright Tumblr, I’m back to rescue you from your acute case of Scootaloolessness.

I will start with this silly question. An unladen scooter can’t move, because nopony’s riding it! Still, I couldn’t answer that literally as asked, so I think I’m going to falllll…

…onto my bed, relaxedly. My wings are kind of sore today. Last night, while she was asleep, miss Pinkamina just kept squeezing them against my back. She also had a scowl on her face—while sleeping. I think something about her latest session with Fluttershy upset her.

How does Pinkaminas pet alligator react to the whole rape&murder thing? and her other friends (rocky, madame leflour, mr turnip etc.)

Gummy? I guess nopony has even figured that one out yet, have they? It was one of the first things I noticed when I was watching her from Rainbow Dash’s side. Maybe I should just let it be a surprise…?

Nah. Gummy isn’t a single alligator. Gummy was actually miss Pinkamina’s very first release valve for her frustrations, before she even knew she needed one. Story:

One day, after throwing a party that turned out kind of low-key, miss Pinkamina—well, I guess, Pinkie Pie at the time—decided to wander down to Froggy Bottom Bog. She tells me she didn’t have much justification for it at the time. But when she got there, she saw one of the swamp’s eponymous frogs, and just picked it up, stared at it for a second, then wound up her arm and threw it as hard as she could at a nearby tree.

It made a noise, and a slimy, meaty, green-red splotch, that made Pinkie Pie feel quite a bit better about her humdrum party. So she found another frog, and did it again. And then another. Soon she had painted half of that tree with that disgustingly festive mixture, and had created a warm, filmy, oozing pile of frog detritus at the base of it.

Pinkie took a deep breath, shook out her arm, and sat down on the moist ground by the edge of the swamp wrack, looking at the mess she had made. She didn’t understand the feeling that such senseless violence was giving her, but she didn’t like the idea behind it very much. She wanted to be clean.

She stared at the surface of the opaque brown water, alternating raising and lowering each eyebrow in successively-framed questions to herself, and bouncing her head back and forth just for the sake of the rhythm. Then she nodded, slipped her hoof through the opaque surface of the murk, and said “Okie do–”

A sharp pain, and the brown water flushed with red. She jerked her hoof back toward her, and a heavy weight came up along with it. The nerves along her forelimb were singing shrilly, having been pierced through in a half-dozen places by white, sharp teeth. It was a tiny, scaly, hungry lump of flesh, made up almost entirely, as far as Pinkie could tell, of a mouth and a tail. She wanted it off her.

Pinkie ran headlong for the sodden tree, her hoof flailing spastically back and forth behind her to shake the creature from its terrible grip, but the creature held firm, tightening its jaw and putting its little sharpened bone-spikes deeper into her taut, bleeding sinew. She arrived at the trunk and bashed the evil thing’s body—and her arm—hard against it. Then her arm lightened.

The creature skidded and rolled down the bark of the tree, trying to catch itself with its arms, but it was slightly dazed. Her chance. Pinkie lifted her left leg and put her hoof down hard on the creature as it hit the tree-root, and heard a delightful cracking noise as its skull and jawbone split. She grabbed it by the tail and the abdomen, then maneuvered herself around so she was sitting on it. Then, she took a flat, edged rock from the ground, and began bashing the creature’s teeth out, one by one. “Yes, these are mine, you fucking demon, you bit me with them and so I own them now. You gave them to me. You little… you…”

Pinkie stopped, and shivered. Her arm was still bleeding. She took the creature, careful again to maneuver it so it wouldn’t be able to get its jaw—however now eviscerated—back around her, and began walking back toward Sugarcube Corner.

That was Gummy #1. He didn’t really live that long after that, but miss Pinkamina says she sort of felt bonded to the thing after having both hurt each-other so badly. She also liked the idea of an animal that nature had built to kill, being stripped of that ability and turned into something domestic.

After #1 died, she went back to the swamp with a net, rope, and a pair of pliers. Gummy #2 lived two or three months before succumbing to an infection from a dental abscess. #3 wasted away from a dietary imbalance (she only fed it pie.) Her technique kept improving with each one, until the newest Gummy—#6—actually remained perfectly healthy. But then she began to wonder what alligator meat tasted like… we ate #6 together, on about my fifth day here. No Gummy since—so I don’t really know the answer to your question.

Getting another Gummy, I guess, would require her to leave the house, which she seems more and more wary of doing. I’m thinking of doing it myself, though. Maybe it’s something I can involve Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom in without disturbing them as much. Cutie Mark Crusaders Alligator Emasculators?

(And those other… things, were just a story Rainbow Dash made up to make fun of miss Pinkamina when she wouldn’t leave her house. It makes me sad to think about that.)

askmolestia asked:

Would you ever GET the same enjoyment FROM making anonymous PONIES feel good, instead of hurting THEM? I mean, I'M sure not all OF them were guilty PONIES... Have you ever tried, oh, I DUNNO, non-consensual pampering/pleasuring before you do 'em IN? IF Miss Pinkamina is UP for ideas, you should mention it.

Miss Pinkamina doesn’t bother with pleasuring ponies unless there’s something in it for her. Fluttershy, for example. It doesn’t set her off any more than once if you just keep slicing and burning and hitting and whipping and shocking and drowning her, for hours and hours, until she’s limp and cold and… (oh, that’s a fantasy I didn’t realize was there…) you have to stop every once in a while and just touch her lightly for a bit, let her body relax and her nervous system stop spraying static into her brain, maybe even get her off once or twice (she makes the tiniest little noise when she has a pleasure orgasm; I think she’s more ashamed of it than she is of any of the pain ones), and she’s fresh again and you can start over, brandishing the equipment to make her cry like she just got here.

I, on the other hand… well, that’s really most of what I do to our victims when I get the chance. Seeing them in pain is amazing, but I’m not very good at hurting them myself. Sometimes miss Pinkamina starts in on a victim right away, but most of the time they’re tied up and left alone in the play-room, scared, squirming, weeping in the dark… if you’ve never heard the reaction of a pony when the first sensation they’ve felt after hours of terror is hot breath moving in between their legs, it’s… well, I think it’s beautiful.

Do you like socks ?

Sorta? I guess they’re, like, some sort of girly lingerie thing that Ms. Rarity’s trying to market to everypony for the gift season coming up. I don’t think I’d look good in them; they’re not my style, really. Not miss Pinkamina’s, either, or Rainbow Dash’s, for that matter.

…though, you know, they’d probably look kind of cute on Sweetie Belle. Actually, since it’s Rarity who came up with them, Sweetie Belle has probably already been paraded around in every kind of sock known to pony kind. Huh. I kind of wish I hadn’t missed that.

Really looking forward to school starting, Tumblr. (Well, it should have already… Ms. Cheerilee moved out of town a few months ago, so they can’t start until they find a replacement for her. Something tells me it might be a while…)

ask-akimbo-lee-or-sidney-lee asked:

I want to hug you! *attempts to hug you*


Thanks. Even though it’s just through Tumblr, that sort of made me feel better. I didn’t realize I was down.

I think I need to talk to miss Pinkamina about Fluttershy.

lethanvas asked:

Rock or scissor ?

Wait, what about paper?

…is this a question about filly-fooling?

(I really hope it is; I’ll feel kind of embarrassed otherwise.)

Wait... Do you and Miss Pinkamina still live at Sugarcube corner? If so, then... What exactly happened to Mr. and Mrs. Cake? I can kind of figure what happened to them but...

Actually, Mr. and Mrs. Cake sold Sugarcube Corner to miss Pinkamina and moved away about a year ago. They said that the town was full of “sodomites, horn-suckers and foalophiles” and that they were going to move somewhere “far away from the stain of sin corrupting Celestia’s shining light.” I don’t know whether they were including miss Pinkamina herself in that description. Oh, they’re numbered just like everypony else who has lived here, but just by random chance they ended up pretty far down on the list.

After a few months of keeping the Corner running as a one-mare show, miss Pinkamina decided that it was too much work, and sold it again to a sweet shop chain from Manehattan who was looking to expand into Ponyville. Apparently they’d love to hire her back as head baker—and, surprisingly, she still talks to me about their offer every once in a while; filly loves her sweets, I’ll give her that—but she doesn’t want to be so exposed any more.

Right now, we just live in a house. A completely ordinary, nondescript, two-storey house with a little garden and a picket fence. It’s actually pretty old on the inside; miss Pinkamina wanted solid jokewood walls, and there aren’t that many places still being built like that when horn-tesselated nanostyrene (miss Pinkamina calls it “ticky tacky”) is so strong and light. So the water doesn’t quite taste right until you’ve run it for a few minutes in the morning, and it gets kind of stale and damp unless we air everything out once a week. But miss Pinkamina is good at keeping track of little details.

This is not a question but I want you to read this, not as Scootaloo but as the writer of this blog. You don't need to post this answer up the page because its not in character and I'm anonymous poster. I like your blog because it helps nullifying my inner feelings somehow. I just want to thank you for this. I hope that this message makes you feel confident to write more so I can enjoy. I hope you enjoy yourself too for writing these.


Oh, I love writing this. I feel bad for you guys sometimes that I don’t bother to do any editing/redrafting on what I write here—this is all really first-draft quality work, and would never make it to print—but I guess that immediacy is also what makes it so much fun.

Second, I agree; I think reading stories written from the point-of-view of an emotionally-numb or sociopathic protagonist is a healthy escape from inner emotional turmoil (so is watching documentary shows like How It’s Made, I’ve found—no characters around to feel things.) A novel recommendation in this vein: I Am Not A Serial Killer, by Dan Wells.

And I don’t need to answer this, no—but I enjoy seeing these sorts of responses to other people’s blogs, so I figure I’ll share mine as well.))

What happens if miss Pinkamenia or you drink an energy drink or anything that contains caffeine? Do you even need that, u know, when you get tierd or out of power to kill/torture/rape big ponies like Big Mac? (I hope I don't waste your time, dearest Scootaloo.)

Poor other Scootaloo. (Is it weird that I’m following myself? I don’t really want to disturb her with the way my life has turned out, so I leave her alone, but…) I’ve never had anything more caffeinated than an ice-cream float myself, but it’s good to know that I would probably have that same sort of weird reaction to it, without having to learn through my own painful experience. Tumblr is cool for that.

Miss Pinkamina drinks coffee when she gets up in the afternoon. She grinds it herself first, puts in tons of sugar, and also mixes in some powdery stuff from an unlabelled jar on the counter. I tasted a bit of it, and it made my tongue buzz and the back of my throat feel cold. I’m guessing it’s an acquired taste.

And the size or strength of a pony doesn’t really matter once they’re tied up correctly, and possibly put on the right level of muscle-depressants (not too much; we don’t want them too limp to struggle…) We’re both just little fillies by ourselves (heck, each time we drag a pony upstairs, miss Pinkamina has to sit down for a few minutes afterward) but everything in this house is set up so that we have the power of force multiplication on our side. (It’s so awesome that I can say that; I feel like a warhorse commando.)

twdurgan asked:

Is Miss Pinkamina accepting any help? She seems very nice, and helping her would be a privilege to me.

Anypony can do things to help out our… um, “cause”, if they want, I guess… but there are two things to remember:

  1. No matter what you do, it won’t make miss Pinkamina any less likely to kill you. (I think. Again, I have no idea what I did to earn this, other than screaming and crying on her doorstep.)
  2. You won’t be allowed in the house. Miss Pinkamina is very conscious/selective/paranoid about what’s allowed to come in here. She has to know where everything is, what it’s doing, and that it’s completely under her control, before she can relax. Because of that, you’ll probably also never meet miss Pinkamina herself; you’ll just take instructions from me (preferably over the Ponynet.)

Still want to help?

what was the first thing tha you helped miss pinkammina with?

Probably not what you were hoping for, knowing you, Mr. Anonipony.

The day I arrived, miss Pinkamina made me go right to bed after she had finished setting up my room—which I thought was pointless, since I had only been up for a few hours, but I wasn’t about to argue with her at that point. I don’t remember anything after touching the pillow.

I woke up a few hours later and came downstairs to find her making dinner. I just kind of stood there at the hallway entrance to the kitchen, watching her stirring things and chopping things and checking on something very warm and sweet-smelling in the oven, and feeling dumb and useless and unwanted. After about a minute, she looked at me, set down what she was doing, looked around in the refrigerator for a moment, and came over to me with a bag of carrots and a peeler. I don’t think she had actually planned to have carrots be a part of the meal; it was just something for me to do. I’m really glad she did that, though.

She didn’t even let me see the play-room until about a week after I got there. Even then, she had cleaned it beforehand and there was nopony in it. She led me around, indicating one-by-one the various sharp and dangerous objects and explaining what they were for. Her voice was kind of quiet and high and monotone, and a bit shaky; I think she was feeling the same thing I did after that talent show a year ago—like she was about to get booed off a stage…

At the end of her, er, presentation, she stopped and knelt down in front of me; you’d think that would look kind of scary, like she was getting ready to pounce on you, but she just looked kind of curled up into herself. Her eyes were level with mine and looking at the floor. She said, just, “well…” then nothing.

I thought she looked like somepony who really needed a hug, so I leaned toward her. Her back straightened slightly, and I hesitated for just a moment… but then I put my arms out to my sides, and she, she, collapsed on me. I fell back on the cold floor (actually, on a plastic sheet on the cold floor) and we laid there like that for I-don’t-know-how-long. My face was in her hair. I could feel perspiration from her shoulder and her neck pressing into mine.

She didn’t move until I did; I just shifted my flank a bit because her hip bone was sorta digging into it, but then she stood up in a smooth motion, her hair messed and covering her face, and turned to the door, taking my hoof in hers.

When miss pinkamena is sad (for exemple when she can't get the reaction she's expecting), does she 'revert' back to pinkie pie ? Is there a third personnality behind pinkamena ? Something else ?

I think she’s the most “herself” when she’s sad. In the middle of a session with a victim, or while working in the kitchen, or just when taking some pictures for you all, she’ll sometimes just put down what she’s doing and walk over to her bed, lay down and stare up at the ceiling. At first, I was kind of afraid to bother her while she was like that, but then I tried, and it turns out she’s willing to talk to me about pretty much anything while she just lays there.  It’s where half the stuff I tell Tumblr about her comes from. She tells me stories, rambles about Equestrian politics or psychopharmacology or whatever else she’s thinking about, and asks me about my opinions on stuff, too. It’s something I’ve never really had with anypony else…

Oh, maybe this is closer to what you mean, though: she tends to talk in her sleep. It’s always about parties—one’s she’s had, ones she was planning on but never did, ones that I don’t think could ever really happen. (There’s this one in particular, with a rabbit and some weird monkey-creature in a top hat, that actually inspired me to try drawing it the next day. Not my special talent, it turns out.)

I would like to note that if you start making multiple diverging continuities every time Ask Pinkamena does something unexpected I will be forced to throw my computer out of the window.

((OOC: Heavens no! I have a job, you know. If the story started doing that, I would (╯°□°)╯︵ this whole project pretty quick.))


At the center of the universe is a horribly wounded alicorn.

Its wings are torn and blackened, its skin plastered with a dull purple blood that never seems to grow totally dry. It is disfigured, mangled, covered in seared, faintly glowing cracks. The face is fixed in an eternal, unchanging expression of pure, limitless joy. The eyes are empty sockets. The arms are eternally outstretched, because they are tied in place.

It is nothing anyone would call conscious, and is only in the barest, barest sense of the word still alive. If anything resembling awareness remains, that awareness consists of nothing but an infinite field of gridded black and white squares, a test pattern scattered with dancing dots that shift and jump and blur into one another. It would be tempting to say this is consciousness, but in fact the alicorn is not aware of the test pattern. It simply is.

This test pattern is useful.

kirbysanx asked:

Aren't you worried about the fact that you've described your location to the public? Miss Pinkamena seems very cautious about revealing such information, and the description you gave would be enough for a clever pony. Wouldn't want any would-be heroes to show up unannounced now, would we?

Our house looks like a townhouse. There’s tons of them all over Ponyville, and they all look pretty much the same. We could be your neighbours.

thedeedeedee asked:

Has Zecora made the list, because i'd have a assumption that she'd provide the Herbs for the "Knockout Drugs"?

Miss Pinkamina knows plenty about herbs. She was basically a culinary research chemist, after all; Mr. and Mrs. Cake may have ran Sugarcube Corner, but miss Pinkamina came up with all the recipes that made it into a brand (and which, of course, couldn’t be ethically replicated once the place was bought out.)

Zecora was one of the only ponies who could actually pick out what was in the cupcakes. She was, therefore, an evil enchantress. ASAP list.

lord-tristan asked:

You seem wonderfully eloquent for someone who I assume has never had any formal education.

Thanks! I’m not nearly as good with words as, say, Sweetie Belle is, but I guess I can say what I mean clearly enough. I think it’s from all the books I’ve been reading. I used to hate reading, you know? It was hard and took me a long time to get through each page, and it wasn’t nearly as rewarding as watching TV or listening to music. But when you’re alone at night in a scary place, with nopony to keep you company, and nothing but firelight to see with… it really helps to be able to forget where you are and go somewhere else, at least in your head.

I haven’t mentioned her much, but I drop in to see Twilight Sparkle pretty often, and look through her library for new books. I don’t think she gets the point of reading fiction (it’s always sort of just piled in the back, whereas all the books she cares about are sorted and shelved neatly), but she says she likes the fact that I’m reading at all, which is more than she can say for most ponies, even adult ones.

((OOC: To be technical, Scootaloo has only actually “spoken” a few times on this blog. When she does, she usually stumbles a bit, and then an adult will interrupt or talk over her. The rest of the time, I’m just expressing her thoughts in the way she would be happiest with if she read them back. See also: Ender’s Game, HP:MoR, and probably any other story you could think of that’s written by an adult, and contains children, but isn’t written for them specifically.))

So do you still hang out with Applebloom and Sweetie Belle? Do you guys still go Crusading for your Cutie Marks? Have they not noticed a difference in you since you moved in with Pinkamena?

Well, sort of… not in a while, I guess…

When I was living with Rainbow Dash, I didn’t really get to decide where to go on my own; she just dragged me along wherever she went. So at first, I would see them both running off somewhere (probably crusading) and I could only really get to wave and say hi, then I had to go. They both understood, but I guess they got fed up with it at one point, and came and found me. (Thank you both.)

Oh, I guess Tumblr needs this part in detail:

Rainbow Dash was way up in the air practicing maneuvers, and I was just sort of sitting there watching her (I was supposed to be “keeping score.”) Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle sat down and watched with me, and we all told one-another what we had been up to the past few weeks. Rainbow Dash eventually noticed us all together and came down. She said she remembered Apple Bloom a little (from the time she tried to help her out with her cutie mark when she was alone… I’m still happy that Rainbow Dash did that, whatever else she did later) and I introduced Sweetie Belle to her. Rainbow Dash invited us all up to her house. I pointed out that that wouldn’t work, but she just shook her head and told us to follow her.

We ended up at the library/Twilight Sparkle’s house. Rainbow Dash told me that, a few months earlier, Twilight had started doing research on Earth-pony/condensation interaction. At first she had developed a few spells, but eventually she drew up some sort of plans, and had them sent out to the university at Canterlot.

Rainbow Dash asked if she had gotten any prototypes back yet, and Twilight nodded. She held out these two little dull, flat, black hexagons of metal, with each bound to a little chain. “You put one of these around somepony’s neck, and the electroweak force of any condensation they encounter will be increased geometrically. Normally, it’s actually a pegasus’ body that chemically bonds to mo–”

“They let you walk on clouds, kids.” Rainbow Dash said. Twilight had a flattened expression, but nodded.

“Gee Twilight,” Apple Bloom said, “I didn’t know you were an inventor as well as a wizard and a librarian!”

“The term is artificery, Apple Bloom. And it’s something I was taught at the university, just like everypony else who goes there.”

“Gee Twilight, you don’t have to rub it in her face,” Rainbow Dash said.

Twilight Sparkle answered with a “huh?”

“Your unicorn magic. It’s awesome, sure, but neither her or Scootaloo will ever go to your university. Don’t psych them up about it.

“But I was just telling them the basic facts of the sit– oh I’m doing it again aren’t I.

Sigh… yes, you are. It’s alright. I want to borrow those. Do you need them?”

“No, I’ve mastered continuous electroweak manipulation, so they’re of no use to me. Take them as you like.”

“Thanks, Twilight! Talktoyouagainsoonbye!”

Rainbow Dash ran out the door with the chained hexagons in hoof, waving for the assembled Crusaders to follow. A few minutes later, we were all outside.

“Celes, she’s… well, she’s something. But here, you two. Put these on.”

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom slid the necklaces down around their heads. “Now what?” Apple Bloom said, mostly to herself.

“Now you can ride in style. Watch!”

I knew what she was about to do. I was kind of impressed by it the first time too. Rainbow Dash shot up, grabbed a slowly-passing cumulus cloud from above us, and pulled it down to the ground. “Now hop on, and hold on!”

We did, and the ground shot away.

Anyway, after that, Rainbow Dash would invite Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle over herself, without my asking. At first I thought she was just being nice to them for my sake; then I thought she actually liked them as friends; now I think, well… something else. Anyway, I saw them a lot after that. But that was then.

After I came here, I tried to go meet them and hang out again, but I couldn’t find them anywhere. Ms. Rarity said she didn’t know where Sweetie Belle was. I wasn’t allowed near Sweet Apple Acres. I felt kind of lost. I finally found Sweetie Belle, walking home with Ms. Rarity from downtown. Ms. Rarity grabbed Sweetie Belle by the hoof, hard, and strode away in what she was very carefully trying to make not look like a run. Sweetie Belle saw me and gave me a look that was sad and questioning and pained but I think lonely as well.

She talked to me once over the Ponynet since then (don’t know how she found my Tumblr; haven’t mentioned it to anypony) but I haven’t seen her, or Apple Bloom, since. I’m really hoping I’ll see them when school starts.

thedeedeedee asked:

Have you seen "Silence of the Lambs?"

No; should I? Miss Pinkamina mostly watches weird movies, but I can ask her to download something if it’s good.

((OOC: Eeyup.))

scoot-scootaloo asked:

((This is just strange, I'm over here writing Cutealoo. and here you are writing about Eviloo. And yes I CANNOT stop following this tumblr for any reason! I just thought it was funny to read the contrast between our 2 tumblrs and our different interpretations of a character. Very well done sir!))

((OOC: Danke~

Though, I’m trying to not write Eviloo. Mostly-numb-to-empathy-and-seeking-revenge-on-the-world Scootaloo, maybe. (Scoot of Monté Cristo?) I wanted to start with a perfectly mentally-healthy character (which I think canon Scootaloo is, really), then place her in a context where these behaviors would make sense. If not for Pinkamina being around, Scootaloo wouldn’t be killing ponies herself. She wouldn’t even consider it.

But, I think, if you’re in love with someone, and if that someone is really into some… hobby, then you will start getting into that hobby as well, whatever your thoughts on it were beforehand. Scootaloo just wants to make miss Pinkamina, the one pony who (acts like she) cares about her as a person (wat.) happy—and doesn’t much care who else gets hurt to make that happen. As long as it’s nopony she knows…

So far the rules of the system have been congruent with that desire. That might change.))

lord-tristan asked:

How often do you draw numbers/murder somepony? Do you do it on a strict schedule or do you murder whenever the mood strikes?

By your name, I’ll assume you’re a colt. So: when it’s your, um, time of the year, how often do you go rutting?

That is to say, “the mood strikes” us, miss Pinkamina especially, more often than we could actually manage to keep up with. Miss Pinkamina would just stay in the play-room all the time, if she had the endurance for it. That’s why we don’t just kill anypony right away. Sure, less pain is less fun, but then we at least have somepony left to play with every night. Sometimes miss Pinkamina will get me to go out for another victim while the last one is still untouched, so she can kill them and then go right on to the next.

Could you give us any details on Who was on the ASAP list?

Not really. I know who has died or gone missing in Ponyville, and I asked her about Zecora specifically, which is when she told me about the ASAP murders in the first place. She says she kept no records for that part; it was “just [her] gut telling [her] what to do.”

What if there was a Copy Cat Killer? But better and more efficient?

The copycat would just help us finish Phase 1 more quickly, I guess. (Also, what does “better” mean? Would ponies be ending up more dead?)

I don’t know how miss Pinkamina would feel about it, though. I think she likes the idea of prolonging our stay in Ponyville as long as possible; she seems like she’s really comfortable in this house (and, um, I am too.)

Although, you know, she seems like she’s getting a bit antsy tonight. I guess it’s because we don’t have a victim around to play with, after she took Fluttershy back home again… I don’t know if she really thought through this “grounding the filly who brings you your toys” thing. And I’m getting kind of… um. Where was that folder…?

askstarbuck asked:

May I make some suggestions to the ponies excluded from the number system? Vinal Scratch- Surely Pinkamena likes music. Derpy Hooves- Who will deliver the mail? Me- Because I'm awesome. Doctor Hooves- He can't die.

Mrs. Doo is already off the list, like I mentioned before. The Doctor is on the list, but has been downgraded. Vinyl Scratch is on the list, and miss Pinkamina sees no reason to take her off; she doesn’t like her particular kind of music anyway. And you’re not on the list: you live in Cloudsdale, not Ponyville!

Really, everypony was already given due consideration of their usefulness/necessity when they were added to the list. Nobody’s just going to get miss Pinkamina to change her mind with a few seconds of thought.

askbasspony asked:

Hello Scootaloo. My name is Bass... Maybe you have heard of me. I am the Robot that has recently moved to Ponyville. Let me cut to the chase... I may not be able to harm ponies without killing myself as well. But if she comes after Snails or Dinky Doo I will destroy her without hesitation. I don't want to be the hero but those two are specifically under my watchful eye. Other then that I don't care what you two do and I enjoy both of your blogs very much <3. ((love your blog XD your posts rock))

Hmm… see, now that might be the kind of argument that convinces her to drop somepony from the list. It’s pragmatic. Miss Pinkamina doesn’t know that much about machines, unlike chemistry or biology, and I think she’d rather just bump ponies down a few places rather than deal with something she can’t drug or intimidate away.

Then again, she might just see your statement as a challenge or a provocation, and end up teaching herself robotics just to find a way to pre-emptively neutralize you. She’s pretty unpredictable about that.

askblindjesteranwisp asked:

Why are you so addictive? I find your tumblr to be one of my favorites. I love you Scootaloo! You're the best!

I’m, er, um, addictive? I… do you really mean that?

*flushes pink*

Uh I think I need to go help miss Pinkamina with something right now bye!

((OOC: I like to imagine that all praise, whether in-character or not, is actually addressed to Scootaloo herself, like this one is. It would sure be going to the little filly’s head, especially since she hasn’t had anyone really give her so much positive reinforcement in her life thus-far.)

thedeedeedee asked:

How many Followers have you gotten Scootaloo Since you've popped up here on tumblr?

As of 3 seconds ago, 100! Excuse me while I have a piece of cake. (No, I didn’t tell miss Pinkamina I have a Tumblr yet; there is just always cake in this house. Always.)

((OOC: It’s not much compared to, say, a drawblog, but reading these walls of text requires a smidge more investment. Thank you all for taking the time <3))

OOC: Do you write fan fiction other than this blog? I love the writing on here and if you've written anything else I'd really enjoy reading it.

((OOC: This is my Fantastical First Foray For Fan-Fictioning.

Normally, I write original works of fiction, and design games. They are similar to this blog in that they also contain sexy murderesses in some places; however, they contain about 100x the Weird Plot Shit. Message me for a link, if you like.))

y u no answer any of my questions? EVER

((OOC: I answer a lot of questions privately, especially if they involve spoiling the current storyline. I can’t answer anonymous questions privately, so I just let them sit in my inbox. There will be a “delayed mailbag” segment at the end of Shrödinger’s Pegasus that will answer all of these, I think. If you want a reply sooner, get an account!))

thedeedeedee asked:

What if the person/pony you or Pinkamina were torchering.. was his/her Fetish?

Like with Pokey? We just avoid using that particular kind of torture on them (in his case, we put away all the sharp objects, and used blunt ones. And clips, and brands, and…) Nopony has a fetish for every kind of pain.

askyourempress asked:

Hello again, Scootaloo. Just wondering, Am I, Pinkamina Diane Pie, On the list of YOUR Pinkamina Diane Pie? If so, Would it be alright If I put you two on MY list?

So, I looked at your blog… are you sure you’re in, uh, the same Ponyville as we are? I haven’t heard anything about you… how did you get here?

I mean, sure, if there’s a point to it, we’ll put you on the list. (Though I’m not sure what miss Pinkamina would think of killing “herself”… she’d probably love it, actually. Hmm.) And I don’t think you have to ask permission to add us to your own, unless you’re operating under very different rules.

is that other scootaloo blog yours or someone else trying to copy your art style

My art style? I don’t draw…

((OOC: That other scootaloo blog is, in fact, someone trying to copy crookedtrees’ art style. Well, not “copy”—the brushes aren’t the same, there’s more color and less shading, etc. I like it anyway, though. Different take on Scootaloo in an even darker style, cleaving more to the original Cupcakes.))

rainbowjakob asked:

One thing I'v always wondered, How old are you? And for that matter, how old is Miss Pinkamina?

I’m 13. Miss Pinkamina and most of her “friends” are 17. Rarity and Fluttershy are 18. Rainbow Dash is 16.

((OOC: Mostly canon. Having the mane 6 as teenagers struggling to fit into adult roles is half of what makes this story make sense to me. Pinkamina couldn’t deal with running Sugarcube Corner all on her own. Rarity is completely burnt out trying to feed herself and her sister. Rainbow Dash isn’t immature; she’s just acting her age.

This is my mental model for Pinkamina at 13, by the way:

hi every1 im new!!!!!!! *holds up spork* my name is pinkie but u can call me t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m!!!!!!!! lol…as u can see im very random!!!! thats why i came here, 2 meet random pnys like me ^_^… im 13 years old (im mature 4 my age tho!!) i like 2 watch invader zim w/ my fillyfreind vinyl (im bi if u dont like it deal w/it) its our favorite tv show!!! bcuz its SOOOO random!!!! shes random 2 of course but i want 2 meet more random pnys =) like they say the more the merrier!!!! lol…neways i hope 2 make alot of freinds here so give me lots of commentses!!!!

DOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <—- me bein random again ^_^ hehe…toodles!!!!!

love and cupcakes, *~t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m~*


rainbowjakob asked:

So, did you really not know what platonic meant, or were you just messing with Miss Pinkamina? (P.S. You're awesome. I can't get this universe out of my head, and I blame you.)

No, I really didn’t know. I don’t really read the kind of books where the term would come up… I read stories about space fighters and pirates and stuff, not so much, uh—”literature.”

I looked it up afterward, though… Twilight was kind of shocked when I asked for a book from the main section, heh. Turns out it means a lot of things, not just a relationship-y thing. Like, a platonic thing is a thing that, er… exists, without existing in the world. Like a sphere; a sphere is a platonic solid. And the idea that those things have a place where they exist is called Platonic realism. I never really thought about this kind of stuff before. Why don’t they teach this stuff in school, rather than boring geography and history and stuff?

((OOC: If anyone is wondering, the “perfect open quantum-branched simulation” this is all taking place in is also a semantic, rather than metric, simulation. That means that there really are Platonic “universals” in this universe—they’re the data structures that serve as the prototypes for real-world objects. This has applications in Naming (non-unicorn) magic…))

> Fluttershy’s restraints: be badly-tied.