Taming Strange. Or: How I learned to stop worrying and make love in public

by Wheezyandbreezy

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Profanity, DJ P0N-3, Romance, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Octavia, Comedy
Length: 83741

Like father like daughter.

Follow the parallel lives of Octavia and her father as they enter the world of higher education. Roané Haycartes is a hard faced pony with a permanent scowl and an iron sense of justice. Octavia is a mare of class with a knack for the cello. Both will have their worlds rocked to their cores when they meet the mares of their dreams. Watch as they overcome trauma, tragedy, and public decorum on their roads to happiness.

Published 2020-05-13 17:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-07-31 17:14:02 UTC

Aced the Interview

A Charcoal grey mare walked with an elegant gait through the front hall of the Royal Canterlot Fillyharmonic. Cello case gently swaying on her back. She was clad in naught but a small pink bowtie with white collar. Her long black mane and tail swished lightly against her cello case. Though it was the first time she had ever set hoof in this particular concert hall she did not seem out of place. She made her way almost without thinking to the concert hall proper without stopping and saw what she was after. Important looking ponies.

At the main stage was a portly light green unicorn who just so happened to be the conductor of the Royal Canterlot Fillyharmonic, and court composer to the princess herself. Lord Arpeggio Fortissimo was working with the brass section on an upcoming piece. The assembled brass ponies, though the best of the best in Equestria, still sweated and squirmed under Lord Fortissimo's stern countenance. None of them even noticed Octavia until she had walked right up to him and said. "Good Morning"

Lord Arpeggio Fortissimo's head snapped around and locked eyes on the placid cellist. In his best booming operatic tenor he burst out with. "Who is this pony that interrrrupts my work?!" He rolled his R's hard for dramatic effect.

"Hello my name is Octavia." She responded without even blinking at the volume of his voice. "I should like to play for you and your fine orchestra."

Lord Arpeggio Fortissimo, court composer to the princess herself, and finest operatic tenor in all of Equestria for thirty years before that was floored by this little pony's impertinence. "Young Lady, I find the grrrreatest talent in Equestrrria from only the finest conserrrrvatories it has to offerrrrr. One does not simply walk in and, WHERRRRE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!"

Octavia had walked away during the conductor's tirade, and was making herself comfortable on stage. Cello in hoof and tuned to perfection. In her sweetest tone and with a small smile to match she simply said. "I beg you to reconsider."

She then without another word started to play an odd series of notes that Lord Fortissimo for his long life in music and all his experience could not place. It was agonizingly familiar but matched nothing in classical history. This both enthralled and maddened the composer. As if this impertinent little pony was challenging him to place the piece only to be left guessing as it was one of her own.

He tried analyzing the music to see if it would give him a clue. Alright G major that was without question. But that was it. This music, so painfully familiar, yet so alien. He could stand it no longer. He inhaled to snap at the cellist, but just as he was going to give her the dressing down of her life, she played the last note.

"That was Buck's prelude in G major." This absurdity caused the roar built up in his throat to turn into a sighing chuckle. Everypony in the room laughed audibly. Lord Fortissimo knew Buck's suites. He had written variations for Buck's suites. This. Was. Not. Buck's prelude in G! Before he could tell her this though the presumptive mare simply quipped. "Backwards."

The silence was deafening. Neither Lord Fortissimo, nor the assembled brass ponies who had been held hostage by this impromptu audition could believe it. It suddenly clicked in all of their minds. The silence hung there until a trumpeter pony's two thousand bit instrument fell lifelessly from his hooves with a clatter, shocking the composer back to reality. He glared at the offending pony. He had started to say something but Octavia interrupted. "You name it, I'll play it. Backwards."

The conductor was incredulous. Nopony could know every piece backwards. His voice roared out. " PIIIAAAANIIISIIIIMOOOO!!" The timid light blue pegasus stallion who had the misfortune to be Lord Fortissimo's personal assistant sprinted over dropping the revised baritone sheet music he had just finished copying. "Yes m~"

"GET ME EVERRRY SCRRRAP OF CELLO MUSIC I OWN!" He screamed at the poor pegasus.

The assistant knew better than to ask why. He darted out of the main hall and just as quickly darted back in holding a massive filing cabinet full of cello music, straining under its weight. Arpeggio snatched three pages at random from three different drawers with his magic. Now he would show her. He would expose this fraudulent blaggard. "Alrrright then, play Shostacoltvich's fifth, thirrrd movement from stanza." The conductor's aging eyes narrowed. "One thirrrty eight to ninety fourrr!" He bellowed.

Octavia looked up and away to remember the piece for a moment. "First or second part?" The cellist asked in that same infuriatingly polite tone. The Conductor's eyes blazed. He muttered between tightly clenched teeth. "Second." And then she did. Lord Fortissimo followed along with his hoof up the page as she played the piece. From memory. From an arbitrary point. Backwards.

It was like nothing the assembled ponies had ever seen. The sheet music fell limply to the floor followed in short order by their holder. Lord Arpeggio Fortissimo, court composer to the princess herself, slumped to the floor sitting on his haunches. The pony who had crushed pony's dreams of playing in the very highest position in the land for things as simple as not holding out a flourish quite long enough, was utterly speechless.

The charcoal grey mare silently put away her cello, slung it on her back, and walked over to the flabbergasted pony sitting dumbly on the floor. She reached out a hoof to help him up and said without a hint of arrogance or sarcasm. "May I please play for you in your fine orchestra?"

Bass Ackwards (3/40)

"I do so love cider. It slows the mental faculties so that one can really ponder a thought. To observe it from all sides like." He exhaled a puff of smoke to complete the metaphor. "A puff of smoke in still air." The fillysopher mused to himself as he always did before his evening reflections. This litany put his mind in the proper mode for focused contemplation on a single idea.

The chairpony of the Fillysophy department at Royal Canterlot University sat in his study, pleasantly buzzed, long stemmed churchwarden pipe burning his favorite tobacco, a mug of his favorite cider, perfectly chilled, a cello sonata, written and performed by the apple of his eye Octavia, playing softly in the background. Had this been a musical episode of a certain Canadian American children's television program he would have burst out into a non copyright infringing version of "pleasant is the life I lead" from Mary Poppins.

The fillysopher pondered on the Apple of his eye. His little Octavia. The only one who could beat him in chess. The only one who would play him in chess. All grown up and attending the Royal Canterlot Orchestral Conservatory in complete contravention of his wishes that she obtain a classical education.

When he had stated emphatically that he would not pay for Octavia to limit herself to her profession, and not have a well rounded grasp on the world around her, the cellist had retorted. "Father you simply don't understand. That conservatory is the beating heart of the Orchestral world! The place where great music is born. The Alma Mater of Buck, Beethoofen, and Oatzart. The place where good musicians go to become great musicians, and where great musicians go to become legends. It's all I've ever dreamed of doing. It's all I've ever wanted, and I will attend with or without your financial support!"

"That's exactly why you shouldn't go. You are not a cello, you are a mare! There is more to life than the inside of a concert hall." He roared in one of his trademark fits.

Without batting an eye Octavia retorted. "You are not a fillysophy textbook, you are a stallion, and there is more to life than the inside of a lecture hall. Yet you seemed to have enough time to spare to handle the rest of life." She gestured at her mother who was apathetically plucking at her harp with both hooves and wing tips. The harpist wiggled her eyebrow suggestively. The cellist knew her mother was her father's weakness and she exploited it whenever possible.

Octavia's mother, a light tan Pegasus, never intervened in these heated debates as this was how the two bonded. Their mental sparring was how they showed affection. Even with the most divisive issues never was any malice exchanged. If anything it was the healthiest father daughter relationship she had ever witnessed.

Her father blushed slightly. "Octavia, fillysophy was one of many studies I pursued. That's why I was able to obtain a career in such a field. As for the rest of life." A feather whistled as it flew through the air, and embedded itself up to the plumage deep into the hardwood of the bookshelf less than an inch from her father's muzzle. "That is another matter."

In Octavia's household there was only one subject that was absolutely taboo. That of Octavia's conception. The entire history was shrouded in mystery. So neither combatant mentioned the missile. The fillysopher knew he had lost. He sighed heavily. "How then will you pay for this education?"

Octavia had never actually considered the question. "I suppose I'll have to try to find work when I'm not at school." The cellist shrugged.

"And just where will the burgeoning cellist find work?" He had asked incredulously.

The next day, without a second thought Octavia tried out for, and obtained, the single highest possible position for her profession to pay for her education. First chair cellist in the Royal Canterlot Fillyharmonic. The irony was completely lost on her that she was working at the place where most of her classmates dreamed of working to pay to go there with them.

Octavia had never heard the term "Bass Ackwards" and he was pondering whether that was good for her or not.

Story time with Octavia. (5/40)

Octavia couldn't seem to trot fast enough. She started her classes at The Royal Canterlot Orchestral Conservatory today. The Alma Mater of Johan Sebastian Buck, Ludwig van Beethoofen, and Wolfgang Amadeus Oatzart. She was so excited she didn't even move into her room first. The cellist thought she'd lose her mind if she saw the central hub of the orchestral world without being able to participate.

She couldn't hold her head still as she galloped along the winding elegant sidewalks. Each section of the orchestra had its own building named after a pony that had exemplified and expanded the art. Octavia couldn't help but accost a pony at every building and explain to them their accomplishments. How this bassoonist invented the double Reed. How that composer doubled the size of the brass section. Half of the ponies she accosted were the virtuosos teaching the classes themselves. She was making an absolute Pinkie Pie of herself.

Then she saw it, the holiest of holies for any string player in Equestria. The Cordial Chords Concert hall. Her quick trot faltered and her breath stopped in her throat. Here she stood on the threshold of the place where the most important developments in string music happened. The Royal Canterlot Fillyharmonic can boast what it will. All concert halls we're just sounding boards to the music that was written here.

Her awe was interrupted by a neon blue unicorn stallion, who was holding a pile of loose sheet music, bumping into her causing him to drop his awkward bundle. "Damnit all young lady! Don't you know not to stand in doorways?" The disgruntled pony shouted.

"Pardon me sir, I was just caught up by the. Oh here let me help you with." The cellist stammered out awkwardly. Before she could help the very rude pony pick up the scattered sheets he snapped. "Don't you dare try to get a headstart on the sight reading music!" With that he snatched the remaining pages into a crumpled pile and stormed off.

The cellist was left alone in the doorway, overnight bag and cello starting to slump off of her shoulders. "What an absolutely infuriating pony! I certainly hope I don't see him very often." Octavia straightened herself up and trotted determinedly into the concert hall and found it nearly empty. As it was a full hour before class would start nopony else had arrived. The only pony present was. "Oh no" Octavia sighed to herself.

The neon blue unicorn glanced up from an ancient battered desk, littered with all manner of sheet music. "May I help you speed bump?" The very rude pony deadpanned.

"My name is Octavia." She tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "I'm here for my first day of classes."

The unicorn didn't look up this time. "Class doesn't start for another hour." He said nonchalantly.

"Yes I know but I was so excited I couldn't help myself and came straight on. I didn't even check into my room first."

The neon blue pony did look up this time. "Well try to contain your enthusiasm for the next hour." Not another word passed between the two. Octavia put her overnight bag and cello case in the corner. She then rosined her bow and tuned her cello by ear.

When she started to play a piece her mother had written the unicorn looked up. The cellist stopped playing, wondering if the very rude pony would ask her to refrain from playing. Instead the unicorn squinted, really looking at the pony for the first time. His eyes widened slightly with recognition, then squinted again. He went back to his paperwork and the cellist back to her music.

Eventually a bright pink unicorn mare walked in with a violin case held in a foreleg and introduced herself to Octavia. "Hi I'm Silky Strings."

Octavia stopped playing and bowed slightly. "Good morning my name is Octavia. Pleased to meet you."

The unicorn's ears sprang forward. Her face exploded with excitement. She leaned in uncomfortably close. "Octavia?! As in the new first chair cellist of the Royal Canterlot Fillyharmonic Octavia?!"

The cellist leaned back slightly in surprise.
"Uuhm yes. That would be me." She gave a nervous smile.

The violinist lept into the air. "Oh my gosh you are a freaking legend! Is it true you made Fortissimo cry?" The violinist's face was uncomfortably close to Octavia's.

She responded, horror apparent on her face. "What no! He just" The conversation was mercifully interrupted by a pair of earth ponies holding viola cases walking in.

"Oh hey silks what's up?" A jade green stallion called out.

"PLUCKS COME HERE!" She immediately made this command mood by galloping over to the viola player. She wrapped a foreleg around the Earth pony. "Do you know who that is?" She didn't wait for a reply. "That. Is. OCTAVIA!"

The pony's heads jerked from one mare to the other. "WAIT THAT OCTAVIA?"
The trio ran over and shook the cellist's hoof violently. "It's such an honor to meet you ma'am." The doors began to pour in a steady trickle of students as by this point class was about to begin.

The neon blue unicorn's voice cut through the din of the crowd. "OCTAVIA GO SIT IN THE FUCKIN PRACTICE ROOM!" He pointed a hoof stiffly at a small soundproof room devoid of furniture save for a chair, and a music stand. The overwhelmed mare, rather than redressing the very first time she'd ever been cursed at, was grateful for the chance to get away.

She calmed herself and was about to begin playing again when the door opened again. "OCTAVIA get out here!" The cellist complied. She walked out slowly and saw the full string complement seated, all eyes locked on her. Octavia looked sheepishly at the unicorn, unsure of what she was supposed to do. The very rude pony said petulantly. "Now come here and tell us all a story." The now thoroughly embarrassed cellist walked over and giggled nervously.

She cleared her throat. "Uuuhm Hello. My name is Octavia. Uhhm." She darted a glance at the unicorn, hoping for some kind of hint.

A double bass player shouted. "Tell us about how you made Lord Fortissimo cry!" The entire room, minus the very annoyed neon blue unicorn, cheered in agreement. Octavia was less than pleased about the apparent rumours, but was glad of the opportunity to clear them up.

"He did not cry!" She told The story of her impromptu audition. The truth impressed them more than the rumors ever had. She told the story with neither embellishment, nor vanity, and yet the facts of the matter floored the attentively listening ponies.

When she finished the unicorn called out. "And we're all terribly impressed. Now then you've all heard the story straight from the horse's mouth. Any discussion of the incident during class time will be met with disciplinary action. Is. That. UNDERSTOOD?" The entire class, Octavia included, responded as one. "Yes sir!" Octavia understood what the unicorn had done. He had made sure that the incident would not be a distraction in his class. The unicorn's earlier rudeness was completely forgiven in her mind.

Octavia knew implicitly that there were only two kinds of music teachers. Firm disciplinarians, and teachers that produced no music. Octavia's talents had been forged and tempered by such ponies. Her hardest teachers being her own parents. Now her parents had never had to snap or even be nasty. What they did was so much worse. Hey mother had instilled in her daughter a love for music, and her father had instilled in her a loathing of error.

Octavia was thoroughly pleased with her new teacher.

Screaming is best introduction. (6/40)

Roané Haycartes unintentionally lived like an ancient Atheneighan stoic. His move into his new dorm was the easiest anypony had ever seen. The entirety of his worldly possessions consisted of the thread bare saddle bags we are acquainted with, and his new school books that nearly burst them.

He flopped them unceremoniously on the vacant desk of room 420, and looked around his new home. The room was pleasantly symmetrical as one side mirrored the other perfectly. Two desks, one covered in colorful scented notes and various literature textbooks, one bathroom shared by the dorm on the other side, and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, two beds, one covered in monogrammed sheets and blankets, the other bare.

He walked over to the bare mattress. If Haycartes knew how to cry he would have. He tested it's resistance. Yes it was a brand new bed, soft yet firm. It was the most comfortable thing he had ever felt. The stallion didn't have any classes until the day after tomorrow and with his move in completed he flopped onto his bed and fell asleep instantly, door left open as he found it, not a care in the world.

Several hours later, after the sun had gone to its own rest a pair of ponies stumbled in through the still open door without disconnecting faces. The creamy blue unicorn stallion with practiced eased bucked the door shut with one leg. The giggling couple fell together onto the bed and began to get thoroughly acquainted.

The mare let out small moans as the stallion went about his work. The pony asleep on the other bed just on the other side of the room had no knowledge of this exchange as he continued to sleep like a log. The romantically involved ponies didn't notice him sleeping there either. They were too caught up in their own affairs.

Throughout three separate sessions, giggles, moans, and whispered sweet nothings included, neither party was made aware of the other. Even when the mare finally managed to pry herself away from the amorous stallion to leave, neither pony noticed Haycartes' sleeping form. As the two kissed goodnight, whispering a few parting amours and shut the door still the unicorn didn't notice the Earth pony.

The expression goes that "if it had been a snake it would have bit you". But in this case the snake would have gotten tired of biting and slithered away. The unobservant roommate began to mock waltz around the room pantomiming the evening the two had spent together. In his drunken revolutions he had mistaken which side of the room he was facing and plopped down on the wrong bed. Before he could notice the lack of bedding he noticed he was muzzle to muzzle with another pony.

He screamed which woke Haycartes with a scream. The volume of which startled the unicorn into screaming again. Having a screaming pony right in front of him startled the earth pony into screaming yet again. The unicorn scrambled off the bed and his horn flared to life menacingly. "Who are you?!" He cried.

The earth pony lept of the bed and assumed an aggressive posture. "Who are you? He snapped. A hoof pointing accusingly at the unicorn.

"When did you get here?" The awakener shouted without answering the first question.

"When did YOU get here?" The awakened shouted just as impassible.

"Is there an echo in here?" The unicorn asked rhetorically.

The door to the bathroom burst open and a medical scrubs green unicorn shouted. "WILL YOU TWO STOP SHOUTING AT THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING?! Smith this is Roané Haycartes, your new roommate. He's been here all evening you just didn't notice. Roané this is Wordsmith, your roommate. He got in a few hours ago."

Haycartes didn't usually curse but having been awakened so rudely had him on edge. "Well who the fuck are you then?"

The new unicorn adopted a professional air. "Oh Sawbones, pre med, pleased to meet you." He said shaking the earth pony's hoof any hostility disappeared. "Please excuse me for shouting but it's very early don't you know."

"Of course, and likewise for my profanity. Haycartes replied, usual demeanor resumed. "And Smith was it?" He said extending a hoof to the other unicorn.

Wordsmith had been gawking at the dramatic shift in mood, but rallied at the opportunity to brag. "Yes Wordsmith, poet laureate, serial marenator, positive scoundrel, and all around good fellow." He said striking a theatrical pose.

"And humble as all get out." Sawbones sighed ironically. "Well gentlecolts I'm off to bed try to keep it down until morning." With that the medical student started to walk away.

"I say what do you have going tomorrow old Colt?" The self proclaimed poet laureate called after his friend.

"Volunteering at the nurses station till late. I'll meet up with you at the pub." The door closed after the retreating pony in a faint magical glow.

"Good show!" He said, now turning to his new roommate. "A bit timid with the fairer sex but a stout fellow. Terribly sorry for the mix up but you umm." The unicorn trailed off thinking of how best to approach the subject. "What all did you. . . see my colt?"

"Elaborate on the question." Haycartes said, normal direct tone fully resumed.

"Err well you say you didn't see anything before our little introduction yes?" The poet queried uncomfortably

"I was asleep until you woke me yes. Why? " the Earth pony replied.

"Ah good Colt!" The indiscrete pony winked conspiratorially. "A gentlecolt doesn't kiss and tell eh? Good show." He trotted over to his bed. "Well I'm useless till afternoon anyway. Good night old chap." He got under his blankets and noticed the sparsity of his roommates bed. "I say old colt, where is your bedding?"

The stoic earth pony answered directly and uninterestedly as was his fashion. "I have none."

The poet cocked his head to the side. "Oh that simply won't do. Here take my spares, I'll not take no for an answer." He floated two sheets, a pillow, and a blanket from off of a high shelf and made Roané's bed for him.

The earth pony was touched by the unicorn's generosity, and bowed. "Thank you sir." Haycartes said as he melted into the covers.

The generous pony yawned."Think nothing of it old colt." He rolled over. "Oh by the by." But Haycartes was already fast asleep. Wordsmith chuckled to himself. "This old chap seems like fun."

A sleepless night. (7/40)

Octavia wandered through the large elegant campus looking for her dormitory. A little converted house on the edge of campus only a bowshot away from downtown Canterlot's entertainment district. She found room 420 and accidently interrupted an intimate moment with what were destined to be her new roommates.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?!" The light blue Earth pony barked.

"I'm terribly sorry but this is my room is it not?" Octavia held a hoof over her eyes and averted her gaze, face glowing red.

The indignant pony instantly brightened. "Oh you must be our new roommate! I'm deep tones, brass major and tubist, and this is my coltfriend Ivory Keys percussion major, pianist." The tan stallion bowed respectfully any memory of the intrusion long gone.

"Lovely to meet you, my name is Octavia." She thought about the pattern she had just heard, and added. "Uum String major, cellist."

She looked around the small dormitory seeing two bedrooms, a half kitchen,a water closet, and a full sized Grand piano bigger than any of the above mentioned spaces. Octavia wondered how they'd fit the damned thing into the room.

"Are you two bloody well done I can't, Well hello there!" An indigo Earth pony with blue mane and tail said. Erotic tone dripping from the greeting.

Deep Tones beamed at the newcomer. "Oh Harpo! Do come in, let me introduce you to Octavia, our long expected roommate. Octavia, this is Harpo string major and harpist."

"A pleasure to meet a fellow string major sir." Octavia chirped as she offered him her hoof to shake.

"The pleasure is all mine" the harpist crooned, lifting the offered hoof and gently kissing it.

The cellist decided not to be rude about the very presumptive stallion and diverted the course of the conversation by asking about the living arrangement. "I only see two bedrooms and there's three of us." Octavia said growing sheepish towards the end.

Deep Tones pointed with her hoof. "Oh the one on the left is yours of course." The cellist's dread was confirmed and she felt her face starting to warm again.

"So you two." She trailed off at the end, not able to bring herself to suggest such an uncouth idea outloud.

The tubist's eyebrow raised not understanding the question. "We live in the other room." Did the cellist have an issue with that? Deep Tones thought to herself. The tubist brightened and continued. "This one here." At this she bumped the pianist with her hip. "Cried all night and begged me to transfer here when he was all alone." The pianist pushed her away half heartedly, a smirk creeping into the corners of his mouth.

A terrible thought entered Octavia's mind."And mister Harpo, where are you staying?" She asked, voice not quite steady.

"Oh Harpo's our next door neighbor." The tubist answered for him. The cellist sighed in relief inwardly."

"So if ever you need anything you'll know where to find me." He said while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Octavia wondered if he had even a trace of introspection or irony.

"Wait a minute!" The tubist piped up. "Grey cellist." She screwed up her face really looking at Octavia for the first time. Deep Tones gasped. "You can't be the same cellist that humiliated Harpo's father can you?!" At this both colts went wide eyed. One at standing in the room with a local legend, and the other at having flirted with the source of his father's drunken violent temperament the last several weeks.

"Humiliated?" The cellist said looking honestly hurt. "Who did I humiliate?"

"Why", the tubist put on her best operatic bravado, "Lord Arpeggio Fortissimo, court composer to the prrrrincess herself."

"Oh Lord Fortissimo's your father?" The cellist asked brightening at the change of subject. But he was gone. The only son of the highest honored musician in the land had vanished from the room and locked himself in his dorm. His father would disown him if he knew he had spoken to, much less flirted with that mare. Not to mention anyone who could do that to his father was nopony to be trifled with.

"I'd hate to hear I'd embarrassed anypony." The cellist said, concern for her professional relationship with her new boss mounting.

The couple giggled to themselves. "Embarrassed isn't the word darling" Deep Tones chortled.

"Mortified is more like it!" Ivory Keys chimed in his heavily posh Canterlot accent. Octavia was now thoroughly concerned for her new career.

Her new roommates soothed her worries as they explained. "Oh don't worry darling. If anypony needed to be humbled it's him." Putting extra venom in the last word. "Did you know he always introduces himself by his full title? So ungraceful!"

"Lord Fortissimo is an excellent musician! I've even played some of his variations on Beethoofen's symphonies." Octavia said, feeling the need to defend somepony she genuinely respected.

"Yes yes, trust me Octavia one week of working with him and you'll understand everything." The tubist said conciliatorily.

The cellist was shown her cozy room and she set her cello case lovingly in the corner. She declined the invitation to dinner as she had been up all day and wanted to get settled in. Octavia opened the window enjoying the cool Canterlot Autumn air. She flopped exhausted onto her small bed, without bedding as she had only brought an overnight bag with her. A full day behind her she welcomed the loving embrace of oblivion.

That was until she heard the creaking.

Octavia's eyes shot open. The Moon was high in the sky, so she knew she had slept for at least a few hours. Instantly awakened by a series of furniture creaks and soft moans coming from her bedroom wall. "They're not seriously?" She thought to herself. But the sensual noises only continued. "Didn't they get enough earlier?" The cellist's face went crimson as she remembered what she had interrupted. "Well they're adults in what is for all intents and purposes their own home. They're free to do as they want." Octavia thought, trying to ease her mortification. "Plus this won't take long. They'll be finished soon enough." With that she politely covered her ears with her hooves and attempted to go back to sleep.

Three hours. The amorous couple didn't stop for three. Solid. Hours. Octavia sat staring at the wall for three solid hours. Hooves digging into her ears not able to fully drown out the sensual noises from next door. Either too polite or too embarrassed to ask them to be quieter she lay there and suffered for the entire duration. Finally. Mercifully. Celestia be praised, they finally gave it a rest.

Octavia smiled as she snuggled against her surprisingly comfortable mattress and finally started drifting off to sleep. That was until she heard the grunt coming from the other side of the room. Octavia's eyes shot open. "Wait a minute. He's alone in there. He's not seriously?" She thought desperately to herself. A slightly louder moan confirmed her fears. "Oh for the love of Celestia." She felt escape her lips.

On the other side of Canterlot, Celestia's head popped off her pillow reflexatorily. "Oi leave me out of this!" The god empress barked into the darkness. She pulled the sleep mask off of her eyes and looked around. "Huh where did that come from?" She settled back into sleep mildly concerned.

Octavia was entirely too disgusted to tell Harpo to stop doing. . . That, and she once again elected to shove her hooves into her ears. After everyone's endorphin situation had been well and thoroughly handled, Octavia finally, mercifully, got to sleep. For two hours. The first rays of Celestia's sun struck her square in the face. Her first class was early and Octavia knew she wasn't going to get anymore sleep. She sighed and shook herself awake. "Well at least that can't happen every night. . . Right? . . . Right?!"

Oh you poor poor silly little pony.

A demon is spawned. (8/40)

Roané rose at dawn as was his custom. The blankets he'd borrowed were the single most comfortable things he'd felt in his life but, he'd done without possessions too long to let possessions rule him. He folded the sheets and blankets as close as he could to their original fold lines and stacked them on Wordsmith's desk. He bowed to the still sleeping form of his roommate who was hanging haphazardly halfway off the bed.

Haycartes didn't have any classes that day but that was no excuse to laze the day away. If his professor wasn't going to do his job then Roané would just have to do it for him. He trotted in his usual slightly too fast trot to the library and grabbed several books on fillysophy, half of which he'd already read.

Roané devoured the esoteric tomes, having honed his reading speed through years of doing nothing but hanging out in the library. He finished the first book in less than an hour. He'd just read that everything is water, whatever that means, when he felt a gentle tap at his shoulder. It was the pink pegasus from his fillysophy class.

She stood sheepishly rubbing her foreleg with her hoof. "Umm hi. It's me, uhh Flighty Thoughts. From filly intro." Roané rose and bowed. The mare not being in the habit of bowing only leaned forward slightly. "Uuum yeah, well, I thought about what you said yesterday." She trailed off. Haycartes was giving her the same stone faced stare he gave everypony. It made her uncomfortable.

She steeled herself to finish the speech she had prepared. "Anyway, umm you're right. Just because a pony has a bad attitude doesn't mean it gives you the right to delight in their misery. It's just cruel."

Haycartes didn't seem particularly swayed by the fact that he had taught a pony the world changing lesson of forbearance. What pride was there to be had in correcting another pony's error. Roané didn't have the vanity to take credit for doing something so natural. His only retort was. "Yes." His resting mule face didn't change.

The pegasus shifted nervously. "So umm, yeah, Thank you. You've made me a better pony." She made another attempt at bowing. The two stood staring at each other for several seconds. The mare had it in her head that when a mare approaches a stallion and starts a conversation that gives the stallion an opportunity to extend some sort of invitation, but Haycartes didn't seem to be picking up on that. She decided to quit while she was ahead, "So yeah, umm, bye." With that she sprang into the air.

Without another thought on the enlightened pegasus Roané sat back down and picked up where he'd been reading. After about an hour he'd read that Celestia was dead and that we had killed her. He wasn't sure that Neightzche had ever actually been to Canterlot. He decided to put that book aside. His puzzlement was interrupted by a slightly firmer tap on his shoulder. He turned and a shaggy maned earth pony was grinning at him.

Haycartes again rose and bowed, which was not reciprocated by his fellow earth pony. He raised his front hoof into the air and said in a voice too loud for a library. "Dude you fucking slew the Dragon! Good on ya."

Roané didn't know what a high hoof was so the social ritual went unfulfilled. "I have never seen a dragon with my own eyes, much less slain one."

The shaggy pony waved his hooves dismissively. "Nah dude. THE Dragon, professor Sophistry. Nice fuckin job puttin him in his place. High hoof!" He once again raised his hoof into the air.

The gesture once again went unreciprocated. Our friend the forehead vein reappeared as Haycartes snapped. "I did no such thing! A pony said the wrong name and I corrected him, and you would do well sir, to not revel in other pony's disgrace!" A chorus of shushes sounded throughout the library. Roané blushed deeply and his ears folded back in embarrassment. Libraries were practically sacred to him. The thought of him shouting in one was tantamount to sacrilege.

The shaggy pony made one last attempt at being companionable. "Nah nah bro it's not like that. Come on dude you know. Sophistry was a total dick and you fuckin schooled him." He once again raised his hoof. "Don't leave me hanging bro." He wiggled his hoof in the air to hint at the stubborn pony.

Haycartes glanced once at the hoof not understanding the gesture. The hoof remained unslapped. The shaggy pony rolled his eyes as he turned to leave. "Gah whatever, dick." He complained as he went. Roané decided that the library was too social a place for him to get any study done so he checked out the remainder of his books and exited the library.

He was immediately seized by a giant blue hoof and forced against the wall. "You callin my fillyfriend a bitch bro?" It was Flash Stampede, all Equestrian hoofball star, a giant of a pony.

Haycartes was less than impressed. "I did no such thing." He said in his hard level voice."

Flash pointed a hoof at a fiery red unicorn mare Haycartes recognized from his fillysophy class. "You fuckin yelled at her yesterday bro. You think I'ma take that shit." A hoof the size of a small tree trunk was stopped in its path towards Haycartes face by a shimmering blue field of magic.

"Pub not even open yet, and you're already making trouble Flash?" Wordsmith said sauntering up to the pinned pony.

The hoofball player dropped the ragdoll he'd been holding and bumped Wordsmith's hoof with his own. "Oh sup Smith. You know dis guy?"

The unicorn wrapped a foreleg companionably around his dorm mate's neck. "Of course old colt! This is my dear friend Haycartes, my new dorm mate. A capital fellow I assure you."

Flash smiled. "Well any friend a yours is a friend a mine." He turned to Roané. "Jus don led it happen again eh."

Haycarte was about to speak up in his defence, but his mouth was shut by the same blue glow as before. "Of course not old colt. By the way." Wordsmith said sidling up to the giant pony. "How IS that little red head I set you up with treating you eh?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Flash grinned widely. "Oh bro." He made an explosion sound with his mouth, and a shockwave motion with his hooves.

Wordsmith chuckled silently. "Good show. Well you two have fun!"

Flash wrapped a foreleg around his fillyfriend's shoulders and called back. "Ah yeah." His hoof surreptitiously slipped down to squeeze one of her flanks. She removed it with her magic chuckling mischievously, and the two ran off to do Celestia knows what.

Wordsmith rejoined his dorm mate. "A bit hot under the collar, but a capital fellow and a stout drinking mate." He chuckled at his own pun. "Apropos. Pub!" He led his dorm mate in the direction of his favorite watering hole. Their path lay all the way through the University grounds. So they had a moment to saunter about taking in all the sights the University had to offer.

It was a comical sight. The fillysopher would trot several paces ahead of the swaggering poet then have to wait for him to catch up as he had no idea where he was going. "I say old chap, do slow down. Enjoy the stroll. You know sometimes the journey can be the destination."

Roané stopped again, this time from confusion at the sheer lunacy of what he'd just heard. "That is a contradiction." He argued.

"Is it?" Wordsmith asked, gesturing to the ponies running on the University's track. "Then where are they in such a hurry to?" Wordsmith let his eyes linger overlong on some of the running mares. "If one sets out for a walk for the sake of walking then by definition the walk is the destination, is it not?"

Haycartes was genuinely impressed by the probity of his dorm mate. "Very well I concede the point." He with effort slowed his trot. "Though we're actually intending to arrive somewhere. The." He thought for a moment "Pub." He said, unsure of what a pub was.

"Indeed old colt but there's no reason one can't enjoy the walk there. It's a lovely day. Take in the beauty all around you." He said while tilting his head to the side at a group of jogging mares, two of which winked at Wordsmith. "Enjoy the fine things of life while you may, as it were." Roané looked about at the University grounds and had to admit the topiaries were lush and well shaped, the flowers were in bloom and pleasantly fragrant, and the sunlight sprinkling through the trees did create a pleasant effect.

His meditations were interrupted by the reappearance of Flighty Thoughts with an official looking note in her mouth. She landed and said. "Hey Roané." She noticed who he was walking with and her face went bright red, she could only stammer as she said. "H-h-h hi Wordsmith."

She quickly looked away. The serial marenator lifted one of her hooves and kissed it saying. "Hello my dear, and what finds us so fortunate as to grace us with your presence?"

The poor mare was shaking, but his comment had reminded her of her mission. "Oh yeah umm Haycartes this is for you." She handed him an envelope sealed with the Dean's cutie mark. He opened it and began reading, and the pegasus turned back to the flattering unicorn. They were about to recommence their conversation but they both noticed the earth pony's countenance darken as he read.

Wordsmith reached out towards his dorm mate. "I say old-."

"I'M ACCUSED OF DOING WHAT?!" He roared so loud it caused the other two ponies ears to ring. He galloped off towards Star Swirl the Bearded Hall. The two other ponies did their best to follow but Haycartes was too far ahead.

Wordsmith called up to Flighty Thoughts. "What the Discord did you give him."

She called back panting. "Dunno. Disciplinary action maybe?" The two picked up the pace in concern for the charging earth pony. Haycartes reached the front steps and plowed his way right through another protest. This time about the use of fur in fashion. A practice that had already been illegal for decades.

He cut straight through the crowd and right up to the same cobalt blue unicorn from the previous day. He held a hoof out to stop him but Haycartes, against his usual custom roared out, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY." The security pony was instantly cowed and moved aside. After he had passed he stopped and called back. "Please forgive my obscenity." He continued his gallop into the building.

The protestors and security officers all stood there mouths agape staring at the building unable to process what they had just seen. Wordsmith and Flighty reached the building and took in the scene. "I'm gonna see what's going on." Flighty said as she flew up, and in through the large windows of Dean Grasping Hoof's office that he had his runners, or in this case fliers, use. She landed just as the door was bucked in.

Roané Haycartes' usual hard expression was now replaced by one of barely contained rage. He stepped forward slowly the disciplinary note held between tightly clenched teeth. The Dean, only now getting over his shock, tried to rebuke Roané for his rude entrance but was cut off. "What. THE FUCK. IS THIS?" He slapped the disciplinary note down on the desk. The crowd outside heard the shout and stood staring at the open window in the way one stares at a train wreck.

Grasping Hoof glared at the intruding pony. "Ah I see, you're that freshman who was so rude to my dear friend Sophistry." He pressed an intercom button labelled stick. "Sophistry, get your boney arse in here."

Haycartes' eyes blazed. " I WAS AT NO POINT RUDE! AND THAT DOESN'T EVEN COVER THE OTHER ACCUSATIONS LISTED." He snatched the disciplinary note off of the desk. "Use of profanity to a professor. Inciting a riot. SKIPPING CLASS?!" He slapped the paper back down. " THAT PAPER CONSTITUTES A VICIOUS ATTACK ON MY CHARACTER AND I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT. I DEMAND TO KNOW WHO BROUGHT THESE CHARGES AGAINST ME."

"I will not be shouted at in such a manner! You're here to answer questions, not ask them!" The Dean shouted, his jowls shaking with the effort.

Haycartes didn't back down. "At no point did I incite a riot, and I did not skip a class. MY PROFESSOR ABANDONED THE CLASS WITHOUT PROVIDING A SUBSTITUTE!"

"My security guards said you started a fight during a previously peaceful protest!" He retorted.

"I was assaulted and then chased!" Roané countered.

Outside the crowd muttered amongst themselves. What kind of pony would dare shout at the Dean? Wordsmith was worried about his dorm mate. Flash and his marefriend emerged from their retreat at the roaring and approached him. The marefriend whispered breathlessly. "It sounds like a fucking demon."

Wordsmith couldn't help but chuckle. "No my dear that's just Roané."

The two snapped their heads towards the poet. Flash called out in a hushed voice. "That's him?" He was suddenly glad he was prevented from punching the roaring pony.

The staring crowd was magically split down the middle by a white field of magic. "Out of my way you dull things you." A hard voice croaked. Professor Sophistry, back to his normal imperious demeanor, muzzle held high, walked through the crowd and into the building.

The fiery red unicorn was the first in the crowd to make the connection. "Oh no" She breathed. "He's about to get-" She was cut off by a pathetic wailing coming from the window.

"No. NOOOO. NOT YOU!" Sophistry wailed as he tried to scurry backwards out of the room. He was pulled in by Grasping Hoof's magic and the door was shut behind him. He clawed desperately at the door with his hooves.

"Damnit all Sophistry quit your sniveling and sit down!" He shouted at the cringing stick. The pony sheepishly took a seat, but he never took his eyes off the glaring earth pony. "Now." The Dean said, smirking at Roané. "Let's just see what this is all about." He turned to the professor. "Tell him why he's being EXPELLED Sophistry."

Flighty Thoughts eyes went wide at the word expelled. She looked at Haycartes, but he didn't seem to react. He seemed more concerned with clearing his name than being kicked out of University. Professor Sophistry brightened at the thought.

He sat up in his seat and he said."Ha ha. Yes. Expelled! Well yes, he was terribly rude to me and caused my entire class to ridicule me in the most cruel fashion."

"THAT IS AN UNEQUIVOCAL FALSEHOOD!" Haycarte shouted directly at the professor causing him to once again cringe in fear. He held his hooves up defensively. "You said the name of the wrong pony and I corrected you."

Professor Sophistry was deathly afraid of him, the only pony who'd ever stood up to him, but he knew how he could turn this to his advantage. He turned to the Dean. "Do you see how he treats me?"

The Dean had already filled out Haycartes' expulsion paperwork, but it was fun to see his oldest crony begging for his help. He decided to go along with this farce for just a little longer, just to watch him sweat a little more.

"Now now Professor, let's hear the poor colt's side of the story. Now what's this you say about correcting him. Your professor. The one who's been teaching fillysophy since before your parents were born?" He said in his most condescending accent.

Haycartes once again didn't catch that he was being mocked. He thought there was nothing more natural than the Dean being sceptical of a professor of Sophistry's tenure mistaking a name. "I say again. He said Xeneighphon when he meant Aristrotle. I corrected him and then we had a discussion about the historian. He once again misspoke and again I corrected him." Haycartes ire rose again at the memory. "HE THEN RAN OUT OF THE CLASS WITHOUT PROVIDING A SUBSTITUTE, THEREBY DENYING ME, AND EVERY OTHER STUDENT A LECTURE THAT WE PAID FOR!"

The three listeners, as well as everypony listening outside, were stunned at the story. Sophistry was stunned at being made to look bad in front of his boss. Grasping Hoof was stunned at this odd pony having the gaul to complain about being able to skip a class. Flighty Thoughts, who spent this entire conversation cowering against a bookshelf, was stunned that this very very odd pony didn't bring up the rude way that Professor Sophistry had screamed at him and even whipped him with his tail. The crowd of ponies listening outside were still stunned that a pony could yell so loud.

Grasping Hoof came out of his daze first. He cleared his throat. "Ahem is this true Professor?"

Sophistry was startled out of one terror and straight into a new one at the Dean speaking to him as if he'd been caught in bed with his daughter. He stammered out. "W-w-well, umm yes." He sprang towards the desk. "BUT HE MADE A FOAL OUT OF ME! HE MADE ALL MY STUDENTS LAUGH AT ME!"

The Dean shoved the professor back towards his seat. Their credibility was being ruined by this pusillanimous display. He sighed and continued. "Is this true." He looked at the piece of paper. It occurred to him he didn't even know the young stallion's name. "Hay carts?" What an odd name for a very odd pony the Dean thought to himself.

The earth pony never slouched but he stood slightly straighterand said. "My name is Roané Haycartes, and what the other students find to be amusing is not my concern. I was in no way rude to this pony, nor did I say anything that could be misconstrued as humorous. If you should like to know what the other students found to be comical about our discussion then you should ask her." He snapped a hoof at Flighty Thoughts who went stiff as a board.

The two unicorns snapped their heads around to see the poor petrified pegasus. Neither had noticed her the entire conversation. She quavered under their shocked gazes. Finally grasping hoof regained his senses. His scheming mind raced.

This was getting out of hoof. This bizarre pony seemed like one who would contest his expulsion. If there was a formal inquest, then witnesses could be brought forward. He'd just bribe or threaten anypony involved of course, but that'd be more work than he'd like to do, and it didn't help that Sophistry was making a complete ass of himself. This farce needed to end.

"Well my dear." He asked the pink pegasus. "What did you see?" Her eyes darted from the
Dean who could expel her with a wave of his hoof, to the professor who could make her life a living tartarus if she spoke against him, to the pony who had glared at her when she had paid him a compliment. It seemed like an obvious choice but then she remembered what had actually happened and who she was dealing with. Haycartes had done nothing wrong, and Sophistry had acted like an absolute ass.

She breathed deeply. " Haycartes' right! He wasn't rude in any way. The professor even whipped him in the face with his tail as he~"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" The Dean barked. "You are dismissed." He shouted and pointed a hoof out the window. Flighty Thoughts flew sheepishly out the window. She looked back to say something but Grasping Hoof reached out to shut the large window. He was about to slam it shut when the sight hit him.

Two hundred pairs of eyes met his. Students,security guards, and faculty. The crowd had gathered more ponies, interested to see what was going on. They had heard every word. Grasping Hoof could get away with almost whatever he wanted behind closed doors, but this was different. This was untenable. He slammed the window and closed the curtains. He stood with his back against the window, and stared at the two remaining ponies.

How had this happened? This was supposed to be a routine corrupt expulsion. It was supposed to be fun. They were supposed to take turns berating him and make him beg for forgiveness. Then just as he thinks he's going to be allowed to continue to attend, BOOM! They send him back to mommy and daddy. He could handle this. He was Grasping Hoof damnit! He couldn't just shoo away Sophistry and still keep him in his pocket, but this couldn't happen again, and as for this Haycartes character. He had no idea how to handle him. This would be tricky.

He steepled his hooves and stared intensely at Sophistry who squirmed under his gaze. He had always tolerated Sophistry's demeanor but whipping a student in the face could be misconstrued as assault. This situation needed mending.

"My dear Sophistry, you really must relax. It's not the end of the world that you said the wrong pony. After all, wasn't Xeneighphon a fillysopher in his own right?" He said as he wrapped a comforting hoof around the professor's shoulders, and led him to the door.

Sophistry couldn't believe his luck. The Dean was taking his side. He nodded his head violently. "Uum well yes! That's right! He was a contemporary of Plathoof, and wrote several tracts on~"

"Exactly! Now you just need to adopt the fillysophy of Plathoof. Wasn't it he that said we all have to laugh at ourselves sometimes?" He pushed Sophistry gently through the doorway.

"Well I mean that depends umm." The professor started.

"That's right. Now.-" He grabbed the professor's collar in his magic and pulled them muzzle to muzzle. "If I ever hear another complaint about you I'll send you packing so fast the Wonderbolts won't be able to catch you." He slammed the door in his face. He chuckled to himself at his own brilliance. In one fell swoop he'd kept a crony, and now he'd stop getting those pesky complaints every year.

His brief moment of joy was ended when he remembered that the professor had been the easy half. He resumed his elite bearing and sat down at his desk. "Now then I'm terribly sorry about the mix up Mr. Haycartes. The charges against you have all been dropped. Please do accept my sincere apologies for the behaviour of my colleague. He's a bit high strung don't you know." He led Roané to the door. "In fact why don't you help him out? We can always use another student teacher."

"What will my responsibilities, and pay be?" The fillysopher asked unconcernedly.

The Dean ground his teeth. This bastard has the gall to ask about pay. They negotiated his pay all the way down to the lobby. As far as the Dean knew he had just picked up another lackey. As far as Haycartes knew he had just gotten a job. One was beaming and the other still had resting mule face. The Dean opened the door and let the earth pony through. He stopped suddenly and rounded on the Dean. "Please forgive my use of profanity. I was very upset about the fallacious charges against me."

"Oh don't mention it. Perfectly understandable. I look forward to seeing your progress." The Dean said quickly, he looked about nervously at the two hundred silent staring ponies. "Goodbye now." He slammed the door behind the fillysophy student teacher.

Haycartes turned and faced the crowd that was breathlessly waiting for some sign. Roané raised an eyebrow and flatly asked. "What?" A cheer exploded from the crowd and Wordsmith lunged at the earth pony grabbing a hoof and raising it into the air. "FILLIES AND GENTLECOLTS! PRESENTING THE DEMON OF DIOGENEIGH'S HALL!" The crowd rushed forward and picked Haycartes up and started carrying him forward.

For all of three steps.

He barked "PUT ME DOWN DAMN YOU!" He rounded on the crowd. "What is it with you ponies and carrying other ponies?!"

Wordsmith laughed heartily. "Don't worry about it old colt. Onwards! This calls for a celebration. TO THE PUB!" An impromptu parade formed behind the two roommates as they made their way towards an amusing night.

But more on that later.

SURPRISE MOTHA FUCKA. (9/40)

The Cordial Chords string sectional of the Royal Canterlot Orchestral Conservatory consistently churned out the finest string players in the world. If you could survive High Strung's constant beratement then you could deal with even the worst prima donnas.
His classes turned enthusiasts into fanatics, and fanatics into cultists, and our heroine already worshipped her cello in all but name, so she was clearly in the right place.

His signature tool for maintaining morale was his trusty side arm. A toy ping pong ball gun. If you messed up even slightly you would hear the ever dreaded small "thump". Then you would shut your eyes and cringe knowing it's coming. Just when you think it's been too long and you crack open an eye to see if someone else had gotten it instead of you, that's when it hits you. Just the tiniest little "poink" off of the center of your forehead.

That wasn't the worst of it though. You then were required to pick up the ball, walk it up to the front of the class, and return it to him with all eyes locked onto you. Every eye accusing you for interrupting class. You would then have to place the ball in High Strung's hoof, and apologize for the interruption. Then walk all the way back to your seat, all eyes still locked onto you.

Ever want to play a joke on an Equestrian orchestra? Then purchase a similar ping pong ball gun and wait for a pause during a symphony. When you fire it half the string section will scream, duck under their chairs and beg for forgiveness before any of them remember where they are.

Octavia had always dreamed of attending the conservatory, but her dreams were quickly becoming a nightmare. Her roommates and neighbors were very, let's call it amorous. The nightly sessions were unrelenting and apparently the times were always staggered to where they never occurred at the same time.

What's worse was on two separate occasions Harpo brought a young mare to his dorm with him so now there were four ponies moaning instead of three. No pillow was thick enough to completely drown it out, and Octavia was either too polite or too embarrassed to tell them to quiet down.

So for the last week she had slept maybe an hour a night and it was taking its toll on her. She had seen the shame and despair in the eyes of her classmates when the dreaded weapon fired its terrible ordinance. She vowed never to let it happen to her and she went to extreme lengths to stay awake in class. She would dig the nut of her bow into her hip to keep her eyes open. She thanked Celestia that her instrument required her to stand or who knows what might have happened.

Unfortunately it finally happened. She hadn't slept for four full nights and it finally happened. The poor pony fell asleep standing up leaning softly against her cello. The bow gently scraping against the strings making a discordant racket.

Then it happened. The entire class watched the round fly in a gentle arc towards its target. It flew so slowly that it seemed like it wouldn't make it all the way to the back. But it did. It always found its mark. It hit Octavia right between the eyes. The ball fell limply to the floor. And. . .

Nothing happened. The cellist still dozed lazily against her cello and the class held its breath. High Strung was forced to do the unthinkable. He cocked the gun and fired again. Two violinists were now sobbing softly, holding each other at the horror of the whole scene. Again the ball found its mark and again the cellist didn't react. He emptied all five rounds against the cellist's forehead and still no reaction.

High Strung looked as if he was about to spontaneously combust. This show pony disrupts his class on the first day with her celebrity clout, and now she had the unmitigated gall to sleep in his class. Worse she didn't even react to the cannon of retribution? This could not stand. His face went an alarming shade of crimson.

Then without warning he was deathly calm. He galloped out of class leaving the door ajar. The assembled ponies hardly even breathed. They had no conception of what was going on. Had High Strung gone mad and stormed out of class? Distant shouting could be heard coming from the other buildings.

Eventually the brass section ponies started to file in one by one in stark silence. They arranged themselves like an orchestra would. The string ponies were now even more clueless. Then in short order the woodwinds filed in. Again not a word was said and not a sound was made by the entering ponies. Then followed the percussion section.

What in the black pits of tartarus was High Strung doing? Then the pony himself came in. He distributed sheet music to the whole orchestra. When Octavia's classmates saw the title of the music they were about to play it clicked. They each silently prayed to Celestia that Octavia would forgive them.

High Strung lifted his baton in his intense blue magic. And then they played it. Oh it was a terribly cruel piece they performed. The whole orchestra. Played the surprise symphony. Octavia never knew what hit her.

For those who don't know the legend of the surprise symphony, please allow us to explain. Back in the day a certain Noble kept falling asleep during the symphonies he'd commissioned. The composer felt slighted by his work going to waste on sleeping ears. So he wrote a symphony guaranteed to put this Noble to sleep.

Its first several bars are ever so gently soft. Almost like a lullaby. Gently floating woodwinds. Soft strings keeping time in the background. Brass as soft as it can still be heard. It puts one in mind of a gentle stream gurgling its way through a country side on a sunny spring afternoon. Then once it makes sure your good and comfortable. For one measure. It BLASTS!

The entire orchestra plays one single note double fortissimo. That is to say as loud as they can physically make their instrument make noise. Needless to say the Noble in question never slept through another one of that composer's symphonies ever again.

That song. That terrible piece of music. Was played by the entire Conservatory. For our poor exhausted little pony. As it's opening bars played Octavia's unconscious mind recognized it and tried to play along, the cellist swayed gently, impotently trying to pull out the notes. Oh and what a terrible thing when the double Fortissimo hit.

Octavia lept bodily into the air her cello clattering to the floor. She scrambled to pick it up and noticed the carnage. Five white spheres. Like five pupilless eyes staring blindly at her. She looked around and saw the entire Conservatory looking back at her. Thankfully no pony there was so crass as to laugh at her shame. They simply stared empathy radiating from every face but one.

High Strung was standing less than a foot away. Eyes as cold as the grave. Octavia tried to say something. Anything to try and repent of her sins but all that was heard in the concert hall was. "Pick. Them. Up." The cellist fell to the floor and scrambled to pick up the five white spheres which was hard enough to do without hands, but in her state took an agonizingly long time. She kept getting four in her hooves and while reaching for the fifth she would drop one. Finally. Mercifully. She got them all picked up and placed in High Strung's magical grasp.

Without a word he went back to the front of the room and the other sections filed out. Every one giving a parting look of ultimate empathy to the disgraced pony. Finally class could resume and the string section went back to it's sight reading.

For three bars. Then the concluding Bell rang. Octavia threw her beloved cello into its case and galloped out of the concert hall, tears streaming down her face. She galloped straight past the other sections some of which called out to her to stop but she just kept running. She ran all the way to her dormitory.

She unceremoniously dropped her cello case on the floor and buried her face in her pillow weeping bitterly. She cried harder than she ever had in her short life. She cried until sleep took her. She didn't have any classes for the whole weekend so she could sleep to her heart's content. When she awoke after a solid twenty hours of sleep the very first thing on her mind was. This cannot happen again.

"I have to tell them."

Cider is delicious! (10/40)

Wordsmith led the impromptu parade to his favorite watering hole, the Breached Barrel,a cheerful little pub within stumbling distance of RCU. A favorite of students and faculty alike. Wordsmith burst in through the double doors and called out. "Tonight's on me lads!" The parade and the few early birds let out a ragged cheer.

The two dorm mates sat at a table by the wall within sight of the bar, the front door, and the back door. "It never hurts to have an escape route planned." Wordsmith would explain later.
The bar mare looked over and saw Wordsmith with another male and raised her eyebrow in confusion. His horn glowed and in letters that matched the beer signs about the bar the words "Roommate" and "2" appeared. The bar mare nodded, satisfied with this answer for now.

She brought over two pints of ice cold hard apple cider. Pressed and fermented in a small family run orchard in a little village within sight of Canterlot called Ponyville. The cider had such a short distance to travel that it tasted like it was pressed that morning. Wordsmith raised his glass to his nose and inhaled deeply. " Ah proof that the gods love us." He sipped his cider and his eyes rolled back in his head. He slid his drink closer to his dorm mate in token for him to drink it.

The earth pony eyed the drink warily. "What's in it?"

The unicorn coughed into his cider in disbelief. "Oh come now old colt! Surely you jest! What rock did you live under that you've never had the golden nectar of the gods, the social lubricant on which the machinery of society turns, the tears of the sun goddess herself." He raised his pint to the eastern wall,a gesture repeated by many of the pub patrons.

The fillysopher rolled his eyes at his dorm mate's theatrical temperament. "Forgive me for not being more clear with my question. What is cider made of?"

The poet rolled his eyes at his dorm mate's literal temperament. "It's fermented pressed apples now fucking drink it."

Roané lifted the glass and smelled it as he'd seen Wordsmith do. He had to admit, it did smell very good. He took a small sip and his eyes grew wide. His soul shifted in that moment and from then on this magical liquid would play a major part in his life. He downed the rest of the pint at a draught, he noticed a slight burn at the end of the glass. He grabbed the unicorn by the shoulders and shook him shouting. "WHAT IS THIS? WHAT IS THIS AND HOW DO I GET MORE?"

Wordsmith laughed heartily at the new found enthusiasm of the sour faced demon. "Atta colt! Good show. He finished his pint and called out. "TIPSY TWO MORE!" He sighed happily. The bar mare brought another two pints and winked at Wordsmith as she said. "You owe me for this Smithy." She brushed his face with her tail. He lifted the edge of her skirt with his magic and she giggled as she pulled it back down.

Wordsmith was about to sip his cider when he noticed the especially sour look on his roommate's face. "That was rude." He said, his normally hard voice a low growl.

The serial marenator raised his hooves defensively. "Easy old colt, easy. Tipsy Tables and I have an understanding. We've spent many a pleasant evening together." He called out loudly. "Haven't we tipsy?"

The bar mare giggled. "Very pleasant."

Roané raised an eyebrow at his roommate then simply shrugged his shoulders. He raised his pint and started to drink it quickly. Wordsmith reached out and gently lowered it with his hoof. "Easy dear colt! Savour the pleasant things in life while you may." He winked at the bar mare, she giggled again.

Roané sipped his cider more slowly and found it terribly pleasant. It was the single best thing he'd ever tasted. It didn't distract him from his disgust though. "So when will you make a mare out of her then?" He asked glibly.

"Oh dear colt." Wordsmith sat up straight. He hated this conversation but against the pony who could argue down Dean Grasping Hoof, this might be fun. "Don't you know that our ancestors used to be a polygamist species?"

"Our ancestors also used to sleep outside and eat exclusively grass. And maybe that's enough for you but I think I prefer libraries and cider thank you very much." He sipped his drink. A few of the ponies from the parade shifted in their seats to listen to the conversation. Maybe they'd get an encore of the Demon's rage against the Dean.

"And I prefer the boudoir and that is my right. Why should two consenting ponies not make love if they so chose. Do you deny a pony's agency in free choice of what to do or not do with their own body?" The crowd of ponies ohed at the point.

"Two ponies could consent to slapping each other with fishes until they die. It's still a damned foalish thing to, though they have the right to do so. " The crowd laughed at the absurdity of the metaphor. Wordsmith chuckled in spite of himself. "And I think that the propagation of the species should be handled with a bit more care, and dare I say reverence."

"And how, may I ask, does the romantic expert suggest one finds a mate? Selected by lottery perhaps?" The audience chuckled again. "Or shall we readopt the old way of selection by family?" He muttered to himself. "As dear old dad would have it." He sipped his drink testily

"CERTAINLY NOT!" Haycarte slammed his hooves into the table as he stood up. "The choice of a mate is the single most important choice a pony can make in their life. Rendering that choice to one's elders denies a pony their free will and the union will only and ever be one of necessity and custom, without tenderness or sentiment. It was a barbaric practice and it is the blessing of the nation that we're rid of it." A cheer went up from the audience.

Wordsmith grinned at seeing his own sentiments mirrored so exactly by the fillysopher. He raised his pint to his dorm mate. "WELL SAID OLD COLT!" The glass went untoasted. Haycartes merely sat down staring at the raised glass and brought an eyebrow up to match it. Wordsmith rolled his eyes. "Celestia inferna old colt. YOU SIMPLY MUST SHOW ME THAT CAVE YOU WERE RAISED IN ONE DAY. CAN YOU SERIOUSLY NOT KNOW WHAT A TOAST IS?!"

The earth pony's eyebrow raised again. "I was not raised under a rock. I lived in.-"

Wordsmith pinched the bridge of his nose with his magic, and raised a hoof for silence. "I know, I know, it is a metaphor meaning you are socially isolated to an incredible degree to the point where you do not understand social norms." He groaned audibly.

Roané considered the justice of the claim. "Hmm yes. That is fair to say."

"Now take your glass and tap it against mine then drink as a sign of camaraderie." He raised the glass again. The earth pony clinked his glass against the poet's and the audience cheered, the action was repeated by several pairs of ponies. "That's better old chap."

A memory struck Haycartes and he leaned in uncomfortably close to Wordsmith staring at him intensely. The poet leaned back slightly wondering what was on the fillysopher's mind. The earth pony raised his hoof. The unicorn glanced at it once then slapped it with his own. The fillysopher was dumbfounded. He stared at his hoof in disbelief. The poet analyzed the situation and again was struck with his dorm mate's lack of knowledge of social customs.

"Oh for FUCK'S SAKE! You mean to tell me you don't even know what a high hoof is? Oh this is simply too much." He grabbed Haycartes around the neck and raised his pint. "That does it. I'm taking you under my wing!' The crowd cheered again and the sound of several glasses tinkling resounded.

"You do not have wings. You are not a pegasus." The perpetually literal pony deadpanned.

Without lowering his pint or releasing the head Wordsmith said. "It is a metaphor for mentoring somepony." He turned to his dorm mate and spoke excitedly, as a pony does when taking on a new and interesting project. "I'll teach you how to drink, and sing, and love, and make a perfect scoundrel out of you. It will be a jolly good time!" He raised his pint again.

Haycartes sat and considered the offer. His two days at University had been an awkward transition and he clearly needed guidance in how to not offend his classmates. Then he did something no pony living up to that point had ever seen him do. He smiled. It concerned the assembled ponies as many of them thought him incapable of doing so. "Very well but only if you will grant me one favour." The pint was lowered slightly in confusion . "That I be allowed to call you my friend."

Wordsmith was utterly speechless and several in the audience laughed again. They'd just shared several pints and had a pleasant discussion, yet this odd bird felt the need to ask to be his friend. He laughed to himself as he adopted his most aristocratic air. "It would be an honor, and a privilege my good sir." He bowed comedically low.

Haycartes raised his pint and Wordsmith toasted it heartily and the two drained their pints. The audience cheered at the spectacle. The next several hours were spent in pleasant debate and delicious cider until something unfortunate happened.

Tipsy Tables the bar mare had just set down the latest in a long and storied legacy of pints when an overly amorous pegasus came up to her and squeezed her flank with his hoof. She squeaked and tried to slap the offending pony but he stepped into the blow causing her to wrap a front leg around his neck. "Easy baby! I like it gentle"

He was gently but firmly pulled down into a chair by Wordsmith. "Easy old chap. But don't you know that persuasion is better.~" He was cut off by a hoof glancing off of his right cheek. Roané stepped between the pegasus and the unicorn. The pegasus didn't stop to ask questions. He sent a much better aimed hoof straight into Haycartes' muzzle. It didn't seem to bother him that much.

The earth pony sent the pegasus flying backwards without using his wings with a crashing blow from a left hoof. The offending pegasus hit the wall by the bar with an audible thud and was out cold. The two other ponies turned as one to see Roané nonchallantly shaking the pain out of his hoof. He met their eyes questioningly. "What? He hit me first."

"Good show old chap!" The poet shouted while rubbing the pain out of his left cheek.

Tipsy nodded and said, "Thanks hun. Tonight it's on the house," and winked. She walked back behind the bar and made sure to stomp on the pegasus' nether regions with a back hoof as she did so.

It was at this moment Sawbones made his entrance. He saw the unconscious pegasus on the floor and sighed. He knelt down by the stricken pony and felt his muzzle and the back of his head with his hoof. "Well nothing broken. Might have a concussion. Well besides a bad headache you should be fine. Bill's in the mail." He stepped towards his friend. "Flirting with married mares again?" He took his place at the table.

"Sawbones old chap you wound me. I said I'd stop and I have!" The medical student looked disbelievingly at his friend. Wordsmith pounded the table with his hoof. "Okay that incident in Trotterdam doesn't count. I ASKED. SHE LIED!" Sawbones tilted his head accepting the justice of the statement.

"I say old colt what kept you? Was it that little blue pegasus I keep catching you with?" He brought his face uncomfortably close to the other unicorn wiggling his eyebrows. The poor pony could only stammer at the question as Tipsy brought him his pint.

He turned his face away as he drank trying to recenter himself. "Umm so umm Roané." He cleared his throat to change the subject. "I've heard some interesting rumors about you today. I hear you've picked up a nickname."

"Ah yes!" The poet put on his best herald voice and grabbed his friend around the neck pointing his pint at Haycartes. "Sawbones old colt, allow me to introduce you to the Demon of Diogeneigh's Hall! Slayer of the Dragon and conqueror of the Dean himself!"

"Demon?" Haycartes asked over his pint.

"But of course dear colt. After all what's the only thing more terrifying than a dragon?" Wordsmith chuckled.

"You exaggerate." Roané retorted.

Sawbones scoffed. "Does he? Let's review. In the last two days you've made the meanest professor at RCU cry. You've punched a protestor. You've been kicked off the debate team for making the captain cry, AND you charged into the Dean's office, you know, the Dean that expels students and fires faculty on a whim, and left with a job. Did I leave anything out?" He fluttered his eyelashes sarcastically over his pint.

"He also sent our winged friend here across the room with his hoof." Wordsmith chuckled over his cider.

"Damn it all! I always forget something." Sawbones snapped.

"You are simply hopeless my friend." Wordsmith sighed. Roané gave the two an odd look but said nothing.

Sawbones perked up. "Apropos Cartes! I've not been able to get a straight answer about that incident.

"Yes old colt." He stood up and struck a pose with his hoof in the air. "Tell us how you slew the Dragon!"

The earth pony rolled his eyes. " Only if you explain why everypony seems to delight in his misery." He said testily.

"Easy old colt. Don't assume malice. We don't revel in the shame of the defeated. We rejoice that an odious pony has been humbled." The two took turns explaining the character of the head of the fillysophy department and his reign of terror. Haycartes face changed from anger, to rage, to disgust, to disappointment, back to rage.

"A SCHOLAR OF HIS TENURE SHOULD KNOW BETTER." He smashed the table with his hoof. "WHY HAS HE NOT BEEN REPORTED? WHY HAS A FORMAL INQUEST NOT BEEN MADE?" He glared back and forth between the two unicorns. "DOES THE DEAN KNOW ABOUT THIS?"

Sawbones chuckled in spite of himself. "My friend the Dean's the one who perpetuates it." They explained the nature and depth of the corruption of RCU and again the same changes of mood in the fillysopher. The few remaining audience ponies started to ease back in fear the demon might literally combust.

"THAT IS CRONYISM OF THE HIGHEST ORDER. THIS CANNOT STAND! WE ARE FAILING AS CITIZENS OF EQUESTRIA IF WE ALLOW THIS!" His face was red and the vein standing out from it threatened to burst.

The two unicorns chuckled and coaxed the raging demon back into his seat. "Cartes it's really not that simple. To whom would you have us report him?" The poet asked.

Sawbones sipped his cider. "RCU is under direct supervision of the princess herself." The two unicorns raised their pints to the eastern wall. " She's the only one he could be reported to, and in case you haven't noticed, she's just a little bit busy."

"Running Equestria, seeing foreign diplomats, oh and not to mention the small itty bitty matter of MAINTAINING THE COSMIC BALANCE OF THE FUCKING PLANET. But please, let me take time out of my busy schedule to hear all about how your teacher's a meanie bo beanie." Wordsmith rubbed his eye with his hoof. Sawbones chuckled to himself.

Haycartes sat deflated. "So there's really nothing to be done?" He looked between the two desperate for some kind of hope for justice to be done.

The two unicorns simply shook their heads sadly. Sawbones put a hoof on the Demon's shoulder. "I'm sorry my friend, but hey you certainly won a victory over them today with your little display." Haycartes brightened slightly.

Wordsmith chuckled heartily. "Indeed old colt you really stuck it to them what what!" He raised his pint and the three toasted. "Now then out with it! How did you do it?"

Roané looked uncertainly at his two friends. After all Sawbones did just call him his friend didn't he. He told the story just as it had happened, and the truth was more shocking than the rumors had been. The audience was in wrapped attention at its telling and by the end the entire bar, Tipsy Tables included was roaring with laughter.

"Hey hey hey Smith smithy Smith. Aristrotle sir!" And the two were roaring again.

Haycartes found nothing funny running a hoof through his prematurely greyed mane. "I just can't believe a pony of his education could be so unwise." He smashed his hoof on the table causing the pints to jump and the unicorns to cease their mirth. "I should have his tenure revoked." His normally hard voice became a snarling growl. "If not his HEAD ON A PIKE!"

The two unicorns raised their glasses. "Well said old colt. Keep it up and someday you just may!" The two were laughing again.

Sawbones could see how deeply the subject bothered his friend. He placed a his on his friend's shoulder. "Oh don't worry about it Cartes. After all maybe this will humble the ill tempered pony."

Wordsmith felt Haycartes could use a distraction. "How about a song?" He shoved Sawbones onto his hooves, the medical student, being a bit of a bard in his own right, started a popular song in his pleasant tenor about a sailing ship called the Santiano. Soon the tavern's rafters shook with the chorus. The two unicorns pulled Haycartes onto his hooves. "Come on Carte, sing with us!" Sawbones called out cheerily.

The earth pony waved his hooves defensively. "Uuum no no really, I I don't sing."

The medical student frowned at his friend." Oh come now everypony sings!"

Wordsmith smirked. "Drinking without singing is just swallowing." He scrambled up onto the table and began the third verse.

Haycartes decided to hazard an attempt. He waited until the chorus and joined in. What escaped his mouth sounded like a dragon arguing with a blender. The song stopped with an audible record scratch sound effect. The sound was so powerful it was heard all over Equestria.

At Mercy Oak Hospital in lower Manehattan, a unicorn nurse was filling out the birth certificate of a new born white unicorn filly. He was about to write in the name Record Spinner when the record scratch sound effect hit him. His horn went haywire and the name "Vinyl Scratch" scrawled across the page in electric blue graffiti letters. Thus changing her destiny forever, and causing one poor pony named Mix Tape to miss his destiny of owning a used record store with her and dying cold and alone.

Both unicorns clapped a hoof over his mouth. "NEVER MIND YOU'RE ALLOWED TO NOT SING!" The whole tavern had a good laugh, and the rest of the evening was spent on a much lighter note. Many pints were drank and many stores shared.

"Oh do be cautious though Cartes. It's very easy to overdo cider," Sawbones said after Haycartes ordered his umpteenth cider.

Roané raised an eyebrow. "How can one overdo cider?"

The medical student sat up and adopted an air of medical professionalism. "One can get alcohol poisoning."

Haycartes' face blanked with surprise. "Cider contains alcohol?"

Wordsmith facehoofed. "How? HOW COULD I HAVE FORGOTTEN TO EXPLAIN WHAT DRINKING WAS? Honestly dear colt you must show us that cave you were raised in someday. "

Sawbones sighed heavily. "Yes Cartes cider contains five percent alcohol by volume. "

Haycartes tried to glare at Wordsmith but could only frown. "I would not have drank it if I'd known it was alcohol. How many times have I passed a pony living the hollow life of a beggar. Living to drink and drinking to live." He said sipping his pint, in complete contradiction of his words.

"Ah but dear colt name a fillysopher who didn't drink." The poet said knowingly.

"Much less write tracts on their love of the depressant." Sawbones added.

Haycartes was once again stimied in his objection. "Very well my friends. I will drink with you." Roané attempted to rise but immediately fell over and passed right out.

The two unicorns lifted the unconscious earth pony onto their shoulders. "For the love of Celestia, how many did you have?"

Tipsy tables overhearing the question shouted "Fifteen!"

Sawbones gave his trademark frown. The poet gave his best "You love me so you can't be mad" smile. He knew the conversation was over. They carried the unconscious pony back to his dorm. It had been the best night that Haycartes had ever had.

That night started a tradition between the three. Haycartes would be reported to the Dean. Haycartes would argue him down. Then the three would drink the night away arguing with Sawbones as the moderator. It was the happiest time of Roané Haycartes' life. Until one day this happy state of affairs came to an abrupt end.

But more on that later.

Everything solved forever! (11/40)

The residents of rooms 420 and 424 were having a consolation dinner at Le Calembour en Prançais. Normally reservations take weeks to get, but drop a few names from the conservatory and the staff gets real chummy. Having the latest scandal in the Orchestral world in your party doesn't hurt either.

The musical ponies cheerily chatted about various topics desperately trying to take Octavia's mind off of the events of the other day. They all realized that she didn't need the conservatory, but knew the conservatory needed her. They didn't want her to get disheartened and quit. So subjects like music, symphony, surprises, and sleep were all verboten.

The assembled ponies were disturbed to see Octavia's usual polite and open demeanor so put down. She still only answered monosyllabically. She wasn't ignoring them perse, but her thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

They thought she was depressed about the incident in class. This could not be farther from the truth. She actually found the use of the surprise symphony to be a clever touch. An outside observer would call her a glutton for punishment.

No the grey earth pony sat and stewed not because of her mortification, but because she had no clue how to politely but firmly ask them to bugger more quietly. She racked her brain but there was just no way to approach the subject that didn't make her stomach turn over.

Somehow or other the conversation turned to an anecdote of Harpo's. He was autofellating about having bedded a certain Noble unicorn from Prance. The whole party save Octavia had heard this story to death and were rolling their eyes at the recitation.

The braggart bragged. "I simply had to put my hoof over her mouth because she was going to wake up the whole palace at that rate! I learned later that it was a needless precaution. She always cast a noise cancellation spell around the entire room. I wish she had told me. That little sopranist's moaning still keeps me up at night."

The cellist's head popped off of her hoof for the first time that evening. "I'm sorry what was that?" The assembled ponies turned in shock. Of all the subjects to focus in on that's what she chose?

Harpo, who had gotten over his initial terror of the gray mare, chuckled. "Oh ho well let me tell you she could shatter glass when she crescendos!" Octavia reeled at the unwanted image.

She waved her hooves for him to stop. "What? No! Not that! The other thing. The noise spell. What was that about a noise spell?" The horrified couple exhaled in relief.

Harpo rolled his eyes in disappointment. "Oh yes a favorite of hers. Apparently it worked so well that she once entertained a stallion while her parents were around a corner in the parlour."

The cellist inhaled sharply and pinched her muzzle with both hooves. She spoke slowly in the manner one speaks to children, or the terribly dense. "There. Is a spell. That unicorns can cast. That stops the transfer of noise. Yes?" Her face was drawn in frustration.

Harpo glanced around not understanding the question. "Umm. Yes?"

The silent couple began to understand the shift in mood. "Isn't it obvious Harpo, the mare wants to find somepony to cast this spell for her." Deep Tones said waving a hoof at the harpist. Octavia grew nervous. She might not have to say it but it was just as awkward having then say it for her.

The pianist chimed in. "The poor filly was reared in the country all this city noise must be positively deafening to her. No wonder she can't sleep."

Octavia turned in surprise to Ivory Keys. "YES!" The cellist shouted causing every head in the restaurant to turn as one. She blushed and waved sheepishly before continuing in a suitable voice. "The noise! The city noise. The noise of the city is what's keeping me awake. Yes that's it."

Octavia was overjoyed. Her problem was going to be solved in a way that didn't require her to be a total cock block. She decided that the assembled ponies didn't need to know that she had spent most of her summers in her mother's native Prance. Amidst the hustle and bustle and bad accordion music, yet always managed to sleep like a baby.

So less than an hour later the musical ponies plus a certain violinist unicorn of their acquaintance were standing in Octavia's bedroom. The room filled with blue light that covered the walls, slowly sinking in and fading away. The earth ponies looked at each other in anticipation. "Did it work?" Octavia asked worriedly.

The unicorn trotted into the other bedroom. They waited for some signal but none came. The unicorn opened the bedroom doors and once again banged on the bedroom wall with her hoof. The sound could be heard only as long as the door was open.

The cellist made an absolute Pinkie Pie of herself as she grabbed the unicorn in a bear hug and spun her around wildly shouting. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Octavia realized the spectacle she was making, and dropped the almost stifled violinist. She cleared her throat, and in her usual calm voice said. "Thank you very much."

The violinist took both of the cellist's hooves in her own. "Anything to avoid another incident like the other day. You've no idea how sorry we all felt for you!" She brought Octavia into a hug.

"No, no!" Octavia said looking the unicorn in the eyes. "I'm sorry for disturbing your class time." She bowed low. The conversation was interrupted by the blast of a tuba, and the two clung to each other from the shock of the volume. Harpo came out of the bedroom grinning widely. All the other ponies had been enjoying the novel of the cessation of the laws of physics.

"Nothing! You really outdid yourself my dear!" The two parted and the violinist bowed.

"Thank you, and do let me know if I can be of service in any way." She winked and exited the room. Octavia felt better than she had in days. She said goodnight to the assembled ponies and retired.

The couple shut the door to their own room. "Well, I'm glad that's settled." The tubist said.

The pianist started kissing his mare on the side of the neck as he said. "Hmm. Yes, but If she wanted us to be quieter in bed, she should've just told us."

First impressions aren't everything. (12/40)

Dean Grasping Hoof was in a terrible state of disarray. Never before had anypony been such a thorn in his side. He'd been used, for something bordering on thirty years, to just threatening anypony he wished with termination of employment, or expulsion, and they would fall in line. "BUT THIS DAMNED ROANÉ HAYCARTES FELLOW!" The Dean got into the habit of screaming. He just wasn't afraid of him.

Twice a week they'd repeat the circus of one of his lackeys complaining of some terrible thing that Haycartes had done, something that if any other pony tried he'd expel then without a second thought. Then that damned earth pony would be called in already filling out an official complaint. They'd argue, and Haycartes would always prove either his own innocence, or his professor's morbid incompetence, then he'd trot out a free pony. Not a care in the world.

The Dean's dentist was visited regularly about the pain caused by all the teeth grinding he'd been doing this semester. Grasping Hoof could handle this though. He didn't get to where he was by being pushed around by upstarts. He knew that if he kept at it one day he'd slip up. That damned pony's pride would get in the way someday. Then he'd have him. He just needed to angle that demon into quitting of his own volition.

Dr Hoofenmeier, professor of economics was not having a good day. She was giving her lecture in the way one speaks when at spear point. The Demon of Diogeneigh's Hall was glaring murderously at her. She'd grown used to his resting mule face but this was different, this was terrifying. His eyes were blood shot, his face pale.

"Und zo, zat ist ven die." She was sweating bullets at the look of barely contained fury. She swallowed, picking her words carefully. "D-d-die zentral bonk auf Ekveztria vas established, to ztabilise the currenzy.

She couldn't stand the tension. Haycartes wasn't even taking notes like he usually did, he just kept staring and every few seconds he would shake slightly. That thought struck die guet doktor. She looked at the Demon and noticed the slight shake. This wasn't a glare of rage, this was a pony in pain.

"FUR GOTT'S ZAKE JUNG ZIR, GO TO ZE BAZROOM!" She shouted realizing the issue. Haycartes wasn't glaring at her, he was holding in the need to vomit.

The Demon normally would've burst into a tirade about the evils of skipping class, but a prolonged argument with Wordsmith about whether or not it was lying to flatter a pony to get them to agree with you, over many MANY pints late into the morning prevented him from saying anything but the shortest quietest "no".

The doctor continued her lecture with more ease but the second the hour rang the door burst outwards and was almost knocked off of its hinges. The sound of loud retching could be heard from outside. Haycartes wiped off his muzzle and staggered towards his dorm. Praise be to Celestia he didn't have anymore classes that day.

He darted from bush to bush so that he could retch and eventually Sawbones caught up with him. "Oh come now Cartes, don't go around spreading bile all about campus, terribly rude." He lifted Haycartes foreleg over his shoulder and grabbed a fast food bag from a trash can with his magic. "Come on you drunkard, let's get some water in you." He helped his sickly neighbor along the sidewalk when they heard his name called out.

It was Flighty Thoughts,she was panting hard. "HAYCARTES! Thank Celestia I found you. Please come quick, Daze is freaking out and cutting her wings off. We need somepony who knows fillysophy to talk her down. Hurry!" Instantly the sickly pony regained his strength and galloped off after the pegasus.

"Well somepony isn't feeling any ill effects." He galloped off after the two. The three arrived at the female dorm, and the crowd of ponies trying to soothe the irrational pegasus were shouldered aside. In the shower was a pale yellow pegasus who'd been crying and cutting feathers off of her wings. She was threatening anypony who tried to come near and wouldn't stop repeating. "I'm real, I'm here. I know I exist. I'M REAL!"

Haycartes had everypony leave the room and they crowded around the doorway to see. He slowly approached the unstable pony, hooves raised. She saw him approaching and brandished the shearing scissors at him shrieking. "STAY BACK. HOW DO I KNOW YOU'RE REAL?" He didn't stop his approach. She screamed for him to stop again but he just kept slowly approaching.

She plunged the scissors into his shoulder, and the watching ponies gasped in horror. He didn't break eye contact. He finally spoke. "Now what did that solve?" She backed away from him into the corner of the shower. She stared, ashamed at what she'd done. She broke down and wept bitterly. The earth pony sidled up next to the weeping mare and wrapped a hoof around her. She clutched him and cried into his chest, soaking his coat.

Finally her tears petered out and Haycartes asked. "Now. Why don't you think you exist?"

The pegasus sniffled and wiped her muzzle. "Well, it's just. We are horses. We know we are horses. Why do we need to keep reminding ourselves that we are horses?" She stood up and started getting worked up again. "Every City! Every town. Every name has to do with horses in some way!"

She plopped down and her voice became a terrified whisper. "And everywhere I go, I see the same few ponies. I went to Manehattan to visit my cousin last week, I saw Flighty Thoughts, but it wasn't Flighty Thoughts. She had a different hat on, but pink pegasus same cutie mark, different accent, but same pony. And it's like that all over!"

She started to cry again. "Do we exist? How do we know we exist?" The terrified pegasus as well as every pony listening felt a cold chill creep up their spine at the sound they heard. They heard the Demon of Diogeneighs' Hall laughing. In this situation, in this terrible place, he was actually chuckling.

"What a silly thing to worry about." He finished his chuckle and sat up with the scissors still sticking out of his shoulder. "Okay let's say for the sake of argument we don't exist. What would that change? We would continue to act exactly the same way. And if we exist, we exist. It's a non argument." He chuckled to himself again.

The terrified pegasus couldn't help but giggle at the thought. "Yeah, huh. I guess but what about." She was cut off as Haycartes resumed.

"Now what put this silly notion in your head?" He gave Sunny a gentle reassuring squeeze.

"Oh umm, we're studying existentialism in fillysophy class with professor Sophistry and he said we can't prove we exist."

Haycartes' gentle mood evaporated instantly. He sprang to his hooves. "Go with Sawbones to the clinic about your wings." Sunny Daze stretched her wings painfully where they'd been nicked by the scissors. She threw her front legs around his neck, knocking the scissors out of his shoulders. He hissed at the pain. She cried into his shoulder and thanked him between sobs.

Haycartes dislodged himself and exited the bathroom. Sawbones started off with the injured pegasus and Haycartes trotted off towards Diogeneighs' Hall. He bucked open the door to professor Sophistry's class causing every pony inside to jump. Several ponies hooted knowing instantly that they were in for a show.

Haycartes grabbed Sophistry by the tie. "YOU. DON'T. THINK. WE. EXIST. ARE YOU JUST AN IDIOT OR ARE YOU MENTALLY ILL?" The audience cheered at the display.

Professor Sophistry held up his hooves defensively. "Well I mean umm. How do we know? How could one.-"

"COGITO. ERGO. SUM. I think therefore I am. If we didn't exist we couldn't ask if we exist you moron!" The crowd stopped cheering to take notes. "I will not stand for this lunacy at this University!" He charged out just as he had charged in, leaving the room in stunned silence.

Wordsmith exited the clinic and sighed in relief. He was sincerely proud of his friend, who was trotting right in front of him towards the Dean's office. "Oh no!"

"Roané, stop!" The medical scrubs green unicorn called out to his dorm mate, who was cutting a fast trot towards his impending expulsion.

"Good afternoon Sawbones." The dark brown earth pony said in his trademark hard voice without slowing down or looking at him.

"Roané stop! Professor Sophistry is the Dean's oldest crony! He's never going to listen to you. Just let it go!" The fillysophy major finally stopped, rounding on the medical student.

"That pony!" He whipped a hoof towards Diogeneighs' Hall. "Thinks that reality is contingent upon perspective! I will not have this lunacy in my University." With that he started his trot again. The unicorn brought up the rear.

"You want objective reality? Well here's a fact. If you bad mouth the professor. YOU. WILL. BE. EXPELLED. Don't you care? You've gotten away with a lot of stuff this semester but criticising the curriculum itself. I don't know if they'll take that."

The unicorn was unfortunately trying to reason with the Demon of Diogeneighs' Hall. The same pony who knocked out a protestor, not because of what he said, but for skipping class to attend the protest. He may as well have tried to convince Celestia not to raise the sun.

"If this University's policy is that reality depends on reason then I want no part of it." The fillysopher said as he started climbing the stairs to the Star Swirl the Bearded Hall.

The unicorn dashed in front of him, horn glowing, front legs outstretched. "I'm not going to let-" Unfortunately that was as far as the unicorn got, before his slender frame was picked up bodily under the forelegs, and deposited behind the stoic earth pony. He blinked a few times as the doors closed behind him.

Sawbones knew he would lose this argument, but the speed at which he had failed honestly surprised him. "Well, nice knowin ya." The poet said sadly to himself. He trotted away to his volunteer work at the campus clinic. The outraged fillysophy student continued his death trot towards Dean Grasping Hoof's office.

The Dean of Royal Canterlot University was a portly off white unicorn who had any and all of the classic vices. He was conniving, egotistical, vain, greedy, selfish, but very worst of all. He wanted you to know it. His favorite pastime was displaying and illustrating his wealth and accomplishments. From expensive vacations, to expensive homes, to expensive wives that he replaced almost biyearly, he never grew tired of saying "Look at me and what I have, aren't you jealous?"

The Dean had seized power at RCU by subterfuge and sabatoge. He had created a climate of nepotism, and sycophancy centered around himself. You want to work at RCU? You gotta know the Dean. You want your foal to go to RCU? You gotta know the Dean. It was the door of the office of this pony of all ponies that the Demon of Diogeneighs' Hall bucked in.

"DEAN HOOF I NE~" was as far as Roané Haycarte got before his entire body shut down. Instead of the Dan Backslidian college Dean he had expected, he saw the single most beautiful pony he had ever laid eyes upon.

It was Picturesque. The Dean's most prized possession. His beloved daughter from his first wife. His only foal. She was a light tan coated pegasus with a long flowing golden mane and tail. A pleased smile on her lips. She had her eyes closed and was expertly plucking a full tower harp with both hooves and wing tips.

She was in the very bad habit of going about most of her life with her eyes closed. Her father kept her in a perfect bubble of protection and wantlessness that she never really needed to look where she was going or what she was doing. Daddy would handle it, was the universal response. So she continued to play while the staggered pony stood there in shock.

The fire in the fillysopher's belly had been absolutely extinguished. He continued to stand there jaw agape, eyes bulging, mind blank. Finally the pegasus finished her song and opened her eyes. The shock to the earth pony was cruel. His sensation went from universal stillness to the rest of the world falling out from under him.

She had intensely violet eyes that set the demon internally reeling. Picturesque finally noticed that the door was open and that there was a pony standing there. She did not notice that he stood knees weak, jaw slack, drool slowly tracing down one side of his muzzle.

Because of the permanent bubble of safety she lived in she had no knowledge of fear, so she introduced herself to the strangely behaving pony. "Bonjour, Je M Appelle Picturesque." She said in the sweetest voice the warm fields of Prance ever produced. "My father is out right now, but I'm sure he'll be back any minute."

Roané Haycarte's hind brain vaguely processed that somepony was speaking to him and that the appropriate response was to answer, but the thinky, talky part of his brain didn't seem to want to work right now. So hind brain took a crack at it. What came out was a half muttered incoherent stream of syllables. Good job hind brain!

The pegasus finally noticed the odd posture and bearing of the earth pony. She asked if he was feeling well. His loquacious response was a single drop of drool hitting the floor. "Oh you poor dear, you must be having an episode, here let me take you to the clinic." The pegasus said rising, and stepping with her elegant gait towards the dazed earth pony.

Hind brain processed that the thing that broke the thinky talky part of his brain was now coming towards him. It found that vaguely worrying. Maybe more talking will help. A slightly louder puddle of mouth noise came out of the usually erudite pony. It didn't seem to work. Fuck you hind brain.

Picturesque wrapped a foreleg around Haycartes'. The contact sent a shockwave through his entire body. His face was red hot. His knees buckled. Hind brain decided "nothing to do here" and went to wherever the thinky talky bit had fucked off to.

The pegasus supported the now limp, brain dead earth pony and gently led him out of the building. The clinic was on the other side of campus, so a great many ponies saw the Angel of RCU, and the demon of Diogeneighs' Hall walking foreleg in foreleg. Several ponies fainted, a few took pictures. Every single faculty member that saw galloped towards the Dean's office.

Eventually the two reached the clinic. Sawbones was assisting a pony who'd had too much to drink when he saw them walk in. The unicorn almost had a heart attack. He dropped the bucket the sick pony had been filling causing it to splash onto the poor thing. He galloped over to his friend and stammered out a greeting to Picturesque.

"Please I think he might be having some sort of episode." The pegasus said.

"Don't worry ma'am." The unicorn said out loud. In his head he was screaming. "He's going to be murdered when the Dean finds out so a little seizure is the least of his worries."

The pair helped the babbling mess over to a bed, the unicorn trying his damndest to not even touch the pegasus. The medical student covered the fillysophy major up and bowed to the Angel of RCU. He muttered something about taking care of him. She looked in concern at the now catatonic pony lying pathetically on the hospital bed. "Merci." Was all she said and with that she flew away back towards her father's office.

After the instant death sentence was well and truly gone, Sawbones collapsed onto the floor in relief. He knew he would be expelled instantly if he was even seen in the same room as the Dean's daughter, much less talking to her. He put his head between his hooves and exhaled hard refocusing his mind.

He looked at his friend who was now staring unblinking at the ceiling. His horn glowed brightly into each of the earth pony's eyes having no effect. He didn't have time to be concerned about this very serious medical issue because at that moment the thinky, talky part of Roané Haycarte 's brain roared back to life with a vengeance.

He screamed right in Sawbones' face. The unicorn screamed and flailed backwards accidently knocking over a biohazard bucket full of used needles. Several of which stuck into the screaming earth pony. The fillysophy student continued screaming but now with several needles sticking out of him. The medical student screamed at having caused his friend to be cross contaminated.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!" the earth pony said rising and flailing about the room.

"I'M SORRY! YOU FUCKIN STARTLED ME! STAND STILL!" The unicorn said trying get get his magic to lock onto a needle.

"WHY COULDN'T I TALK? WHY COULDN'T I THINK. WHY IS MY CHEST EXPLODING. WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT?" The earth pony screamed needles flopping off of him as he flailed. The thinky talky bit of his mind tried to make up for lost time during its hiatus while on the stroll with Picturesque so he was screaming a mile a minute.

The unicorn stopped dumb founded. The screaming flailing pony wasn't talking about the needles. He was talking about the pony who'd brought him in. The unicorn doubted he even knew they were there.

"I WAS DISTRACTED FROM MY PURPOSE! AND WORST OF ALL!" The distraught pony plopped down onto his haunches a hoof pressed to his heart. "Why does it feel so good?" He stared straight ahead once again seeming to be catatonic.

Sawbones sighed heavily. "This is not my area of expertise my friend. Wordsmith'll handle that. But right now you're in very real danger. I have no idea what any of those needles contained or who they were used on so we need to collect every single one and monitor you. You need to go to the actual hos.- You're not even listening are you?" In fact the sitting pony was not listening. His hind brain barely even registered that his friend was there.

Sawbones started picking up the various needles that had fallen. Finally the statue still pony started to shift as if uncomfortable. He reached under him and pulled a needle out of his leg that he had been sitting on. He studied it then noticed he looked like a medical pin cushion. He looked up at his friend.

"Sawbones my friend. How have I wronged you so that you stick me so full of needles." Sawbones laughed in spite of himself. That was just Haycartes' way. He never attributed malice. You could buck him in the face and his first question would be "is your hoof alright". Then he would ascertain whether or not the strike was justified. Then and only then would he procede to kick your ass.

They would find out later that the needles had just contained saline and we're used on a training dummy for practice finding a vein.

I monna hit nat classy bitch. (13/40)

Octavia was officially done. Loud thumping bass that rattled the windows could be heard. It couldn't not be heard. She threw the covers off of her, and stomped out through her bedroom door. The noises of her dorm mates making love was something she had come to terms with. She had asked a unicorn violinist of her acquaintance to cast a sound proof seal around her room, and that had for all intents and purposes solved the problem.

So the fact that this obnoxious drivel, as Octavia would call it, could actually penetrate the barrier was simply crossing the line. Her dorm mate Deep Tones, an earth pony tubist, called after. "Don't bother Octavia. The guards have already been summoned, let them handle it."

Octavia called to her dorm mate in her imperious Canterlot accent. "The guards may have what is left!" She slammed the door behind her and stomped down the stairs. The cellist trotted quickly away from the small converted house on the edge of the Royal Canterlot Orchestral Conservatory that served as her dormitory and towards the sound of deep bass thumping. Her dormitory was less than a bowshot away from downtown Canterlot's entertainment district. Specifically the Mad Mares dance hall.

There was a short line of ponies with all manner of ridiculous mane styles waiting to get inside. The bouncer, a hulking royal blue earth pony, was guarding the door. He needlessly wore sunglasses at night.

Bouncers of course having peak situational awareness, and being able to spot a hot piece of ass from the other side of a crowded club while looking the other way, so sight was over rated. Octavia trotted right up to the velvet rope and the bouncer opened it for her without even turning his head. Octavia went right in without stopping.

The waiting ponies protested her entrance, to which the bouncer responded in his growling baritone. "Grow a flank like that and I'll let you in too."

The grey mare's ears laid flat against her head at the increased volume inside the club. She quickly looked around and saw a white unicorn at the DJ's booth headphones over one ear bobbing her head to the beat that rattled Octavia's teeth. She made her way with difficulty to the bar, and with even more difficulty demanded of the bartender that she be allowed to speak to the DJ immediately.

The bartender winked at Octavia thinking she wanted to do more than talk to the DJ. He made a complicated series of hoof signs to the bar back, who then repeated the gesture to security, who then nodded in the direction of the bar to the DJ. The unicorn looked and saw Octavia and grinned. She nodded at the bartender and he pointed at a door that said V.I.P. on it. Octavia bowed and trotted off through the appointed door.

When the door closed behind her she was relieved to find the music barely audible. She looked around and saw a softly lit room with a small ,but fully stocked, mini bar, a large sofa, and a door that said employees only. After a few minutes of waiting the music roared back to life as the white unicorn entered through it shouting some unintelligible gibberish.

The mare had an electric blue mane and tail, paper white coat, and ridiculous sunglasses on even though she was inside.The DJ trotted up saying in her lower Manehattan accent made scratchy from shouting. "Hey grey. Sup?"

Octavia stood up to her full height and summoned up all her righteous indignation. She inhaled preparing to loose her fury on the offending mare when the DJ took her ridiculous sunglasses off.

The unicorn flashed the most beautiful eyes Octavia had ever seen at her. Instantly the entire aspect of the pony changed. No longer was the pony in front of her the embodiment of societal degeneration. Now she was a bold and fearless mare able to defy any established cultural order. Gone was the blaster of uninspired rubbish. Here was the innovator of new genres of sound. Disappeared the banisher of rest. Appeared was the pony with whom she wanted to spend her nights.

Octavia's breath caught in her throat and she bit her lip. She felt her hooves move unbidden towards the mare standing in front of her. The cellist put a hoof on the DJ's cheek and drank deeply from the infinite pools that were those crimson eyes.

The DJ was used to party freaks but she had never seen anything like this. She was being all sensual like. As much as she wanted to let this grey mare continue and see where this went, she had a job to do. "Sorry baby." She said moving Octavia's hoof. "You'll have to wait till the end of my set for that." The unicorn stole a kiss and pulled her sunglasses back down. "Stick around and we'll make sweet music later."

"MUSIC!" The now no longer hypnotized mare shouted, causing the unicorn to jump in surprise. With the glasses back on the spell was broken. Octavia regained her senses and her righteous indignation returned given new life by this presumptuous pony stealing her first kiss. "That drivel madam is not music!"

The unicorn was not ready for this shift in mood and could only respond with an eloquent "Huh?"

The earth pony was in full swing now and felt tears well up in her eyes as she shouted. "I can hear that noise all the way from my dormitory and furthermore, how dare you k." She stopped remembering the awe inspiring vision she had witnessed just seconds before. She put her hooves to her lips.

The unicorn took this respite to return fire. "You gotta fuckin prolem bitch?" As enticing as the previous moment had been nopony talked shit about her music. No. Pony. She was about to continue when the gravity of what the earth pony had said shocked her out of her anger. Her voice dropped to a terrified monotone. "You can hear the music outside?"

The cellist was diverted but not distracted by this question and explained. "Yes! All the way from-."

She didn't get to finish her sentence as the DJ grabbed her by the shoulders and screamed. "WHAT DO MEAN YOU CAN HEAR THE MUSIC OUTSIDE?!" The unicorn galloped out of the room and out a fire escape.

Octavia, not entirely sure why, followed her. The unicorn panicked as her horn sprang to life forming a glowing sphere around the entire building. She was straining under the effort of sustaining such large scale magic. "Damnit Neon! It was your turn!" She muttered angrily to herself. The thundering bass instantly disappeared as the glowing sphere faded away.

Unfortunately it was too late. Silhouetted against the moon, the princess's night guards were already flying down to meet them. The DJ collapsed to the ground trying to hide under her hooves. Her voice quavered in fear. "Fuck! One more noise complaint and I'm a spot on the FUCKING MOON!

Octavia looked from the ever growing shape of the night guards to the form of the terrified pony cowering on the ground. She had been mad yes, but this was just pathetic. Where now was the cocky mare who dared to. The thought cut off in her mind. She needed a distraction from that uncomfortable recollection and there were two ponies rapidly approaching to give her just such a distraction.

The night guards landed and Octavia greeted them cordially. "Good evening gentlecolts. How may I help you?"

The guards bowed and with curt courtesy one snapped off. "Good evening madam we've received a noise complaint about this establishment."

The guard tried to continue but Octavia interrupted him. "Yes and as you can hear the situation has been handled." She opened and shut the door. When it was open the still night air erupted into sound. When it was closed nopony would've known the club was inhabited.

The still cowering unicorn stared dumbfounded at the earth pony who had bitched at her music but was now pleading her case for her, and with such swagger too. She was definitely gonna eat her asshole.

The up until now silent guard spoke up. "Yes ma'am but we're still required to give a citation for the disturbance. He started to pull out a notepad from his saddlebag with his wing but again the stalwart mare politely interrupted him.

"I'm sure you are, however that would need to go to the owner of the establishment whose equipment caused the disturbance, not the artist using it." The guards were unsure if this was the case or not. One glanced at the other for confirmation. The other's shrug was so slight it was imperceptible to civilians.

Octavia continued trying to keep the momentum. "Unfortunately the manager is not currently on the premises so you would have to come back later, and as the issue has been resolved I'd say you two have done your duty, and we thank you gentlecolts. Don't we" She bowed and shot the still stunned DJ a glance that said. "Play along or we're both fucked." The unicorn rose and bowed awkwardly.

The guards shared another silent conversation. Doing nothing being a long standing guard tradition the pair held very dear, and laziness being the better part of valour, the pair bowed and one said. "Enjoy your evening ladies." With that they flew off into the night.

Octavia watched them fly away and sighed in relief. The DJ squeezed the cellist around the waist and swung her around shouting. "THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!" She dropped the crushed earth pony and continued her enthusiastic praise.

"Holy Shit! How did you fuckin do that? You are a fffffffucking boss!" Octavia picked herself up and dusted herself off. The DJ took off her glasses and held out a hoof. "The name's DJ PON-3, Vinyl scratch off the clock."

The cellist saw those damnable red eyes again and felt her mind try to go blank. She looked away face flushed and quickly shook the proferred hoof. "O-Octavia" She desperately wanted to spend the rest of her life just staring into those precious rubies but knew she had to focus. She was making an absolute mule of herself.

Vinyl Scratch retracted the hoof wondering why the mare had shaken it rather than brohoofed it. "Well Octavia. I think I owe you a drink?" She said cozying up to the mare who had very probably kept her out of a dungeon.

The cellist face felt like it was on fire. She pulled away stammering. "Umm no uh. No thank you. I have class in the morning and I really must get back to sleep." She started to walk away with extreme effort. It was sheer force of will that put one hoof in front of the other.

Vinyl Scratch shouted for her to wait and Octavia stopped in her tracks. If The unicorn had asked right then the earth pony would've gladly been her's. "Please you really saved my ass tonight. Let me thank you. Like uh do you wanna get dinner or somethin?"

Our large Royal blue friend from earlier having been rotated off the door, sensing that the cloud of imminent doom had passed, chose then to come out of the fire escape. "Yo PON-3 you aight?" The burly pony called out. The bouncer's intrusion gave Octavia's brain the respite it so desperately needed.

"Yeah's coo jus one sec." She trotted up to Octavia, her red eyes pleading. "Please." The earth pony wouldn't make eye contact.

Her mouth answered before her mind could. "Very well. Le Calembour de Cheval en Prançais tomorrow at seven?"

A small arc of magic shot out of Vinyl's horn. Her mind went blank. Her eyes glazed over. She had no idea what the mare had said, all she knew was that it was the sexiest thing she had ever heard. All the DJ could respond with was a very eloquent. "Yeah?"

Octavia galloped off before anything else could happen. Vinyl scratched watched her run off into the small house across the street. The DJ sighed dreamily to herself not questioning the unfamiliar stirring in her chest.

The unicorn turned to re-enter the club when the bouncer asked. "Yo PON-3 you gonna hit that."

Vinyl Scratch grinned from ear to ear. "DAMN RIGHT I'MMA HIT THAT!" She started to sing a ditty to herself as she danced her way inside. "I monna hit nat classy bitch. I monna hit nat classy bitch. I monna." Her song was interrupted by an unsettling realization. "Wait the where now?"

Gentlecolts, I'm going to stick my dick in it! (14/40)

A now needleless Roané Haycartes trudged with a dragging step into the Breached Barrel tavern, a stone's throw away from Royal Canterlot University. A favorite of his and his dorm mates. A few of his classmates were assembled at the bar and cheered his entrance raising their pints. They always gathered to hear the fiery debates between the two ponies, the fillysopher and the poet.

At a corner booth whispering sweet nothings to the bar mare sat Haycarte's dorm mate Wordsmith. A creamy sky blue coated unicorn with silver coiffure for a mane. A literature major and self styled poet laureate. His turn of phrase had charmed many a mare. If anypony knew how to solve Haycarte's problem it would be him.

"Ah the conquering hero returns in triumph! Tell me do we need a new fillysophy professor, or a new Dean?" He said raising his glass. He only noticed the thousand yard stare when the earth pony sat down.

"I say old colt what's the matter? It couldn't have been all that now could it." He didn't get a response and the unicorn grew genuinely concerned, his eyes widened. "He couldn't have actually expelled you could he? For a fillysophical dispute? Surely this is." He gasped suddenly at a startling epiphany.

The bar mare who he had been romancing had gone off to get the stallion's usual, and had just put the pint glass down when her head was grabbed in both hooves by Wordsmith.

"Do you see that?" He pointed with his hoof at the still blankly staring pony. "The slightly flushed cheeks, the visage that says I'll never see something so beautiful ever again. The slumped posture of a proud pony who's just been humbled yet is happy to be so!" He hugged the mare's head to his chest. "At long last could it finally be?" The ponies that knew Haycartes gathered around in silence like foals waiting in anticipation for the climax of a story.

Finally the silent fillysopher spoke. "I met a pony today. When I saw her I couldn't think or speak, and now my chest hurts." The assembled ponies were on pins and needles. "I think I'm dying."A collective groan escaped the entire group. The other ponies went back to their tables and drinks.

Wordsmith slammed his forehead into the table only barely not snapping off his horn "OOOOH NO! You were so close!" The unicorn whined. "Have you learned NOTHING since you've been under my tutelage?" The poet drained half his drink testily. "Can the pony who does nothing but think really not puzzle out what the symptoms mean. Do I need Sawbones to give you a physical?" He made an obscene gesture with his hoof.

Wordsmith knew that jokes about his sexuality never pricked his dorm mate's nerves but it never stopped him from trying. "Think hard dear colt. Your heart is pounding. Words escape you. And all because of another pony whose beauty literally struck you dumb. What. Does. That. Sound. LIKE?." The unicorn ground his teeth together. Come tartarus or high water the fillysopher was going to say it out loud.

Haycartes put a hoof to his chin and thought back to all those poetry sessions he had been forced to sit through. He hazarded a guess. "Uuum. . . Love?"

Wordsmith flipped the table to the side and grabbed his roommate crushing him about the waist in a bear hug. He slung him around In triumph. "YES! I KNEW IT! My little filly's finally become a mare." The unicorn shouted. He dropped the ragdoll that was once a pony. "Who is she? I simply must help you write your missives! Come dear colt. Sit. Drink. Tell me everything."

"This is what love feels like?" Roané barked. "The symptoms are more akin to how Sawbones describes a panic attack. I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move! I was in utter agony. Yet despite all this all I want to do now is see her again! It's madness!"

Wordsmith had to choke back tears. His little filly was growing up and learning what love is. A very disgruntled bar mare brought over two new pints and righted the cast off table. The two dorm mates sat down and the love struck fillysopher explained. "I went to talk to the Dean. He wasn't in his office but instead there was this pegasus."

The poet stopped drinking abruptly, a mild panic pervading his features. He looked hard at the speaker and a rapid fire question and answer session followed.

"Tan coat?"

"Yes.

"Golden flowing mane?"

"Yes but I don't even know her name."

"Playing a harp?"

"Yes, who is she?" The assembled ponies started to look at each other nervously knowing where the conversation was heading.

"Voice like the seraphim on high?"

"YES TELL ME HER NAME!" Haycartes rose from his seat, hooves on the table.

The unicorn rose, making theatrical gesticulations to go along with his questions. "Eyes that pierce the very soul, that shame even diamonds for their luster?" The whole bar was silent in abject terror.

The earth pony grabbed the unicorn by the chest and started shaking him. "HER NAME DAMN YOU! WHAT IS HER NAME?"

The poet freed himself from the fillysopher's grasp and not losing any momentum bellowed. "Death! And ruin rides with her. I beg of you my friend, don't choose this hill to die on."

"Explain." Was his only retort. Haycartes knew that Wordsmith was overly theatrical at times, and a chronic marenator, but no fool. They'd had too many debates for the earth pony not to trust his friends reason.

"She's the daughter of the Dean old colt." He said as if that would end the conversation. As if he were talking to a pony with sense.

"So?" Was the only reply. Another gasp escaped from the bar ponies.

His roommate was bursting with pride at the heroic determination of his friend but for once prudence had to supercede romance. He tried to reason with the valiant lover.

"My friend use your famous reason. If you seek this mare her father will make your life terribly unpleasant. Not just in University either! I believe that pony has the influence, or the affluence, to render you anathema to any and all who would help you. I commend you for your bravery but please." He put a hoof on his friend's shoulder. "Do not seek this mare.

The fillysopher was disappointed by the pusillanimity of the infamous seducer.
"A pony not willing to sacrifice personal convenience for love will lose both and deserves neither!" The bar cheered. He had finally said it. The demon of Diogeneighs' Hall was in love.

A pegasus stood up, raised his pint and called out. "The fillysopher has out romanced the poet!" Causing the bar to once again erupt in cheers and peels of laughter. Wordsmith chuckled in spite of himself.

Wordsmith was an excellent friend. He diligently did his duty of trying to find a suitable match for the cantankerous fillysopher. Unfortunately, of those who could look past his reputation as the demon of Diogeneighs' Hall, could not get past his stilted demeanor and scouling countenance. It was too the point where Wordsmith was worried he'd have to have an uncomfortable talk about his friend's tastes.

Of course the one mare he shows interest in would be the least suitable bachelorette possible. Because it's Roané Haycartes of course he'd have to fall in love with the pony whose father could very easily have him killed. It just wouldn't be right with any other mare would it.

Wordsmith had a sad grin on his face as he rose lifting his glass towards his friend. "So the fillysopher has donned the role of the tragic hero."

Roané Haycarte did something then that the assembled ponies had only seen him do twice. He smiled, then thought for a moment. "How would you put it Wordsmith?" He raised his glass and shouted. "Gentlecolts! I'm Going To STICK. MY. DICK. IN. IT!"

Another sleepless night. (15/40)

Octavia slammed the door behind her and propped her back against it. She held a hoof to a heart that could put Rainbow Dash to shame with its racing. She was not ready for tonight.

All she wanted to do was get the first good night's sleep she'd had since staying at the conservatory. Instead she had gone to reprimand somepony, and wound up defending that pony from the guards for the very thing she had gone to reprimand her about. Not to mention she was now going to have dinner with that pony, a mare. Who had kissed her, also a mare.

Octavia was not particularly concerned with matters of love and sex. She didn't shun the subject by any stretch of the imagination. For Celestia's sake she spent her summers in Prançe! Land of wine, romance, and bad accordion music. But never did she ever once look at another mare in. That. Way. Her head was spinning as she finally put all four hooves on the ground.

Her dorm mate Ivory Keys noticed her return and greeted her cheerily. "So killer! What did you leave for the guards? Capital show! You got those barbarians to.~ Where are you going?"

Octavia hadn't heard a word. She didn't even register that she was being spoken to. She walked slowly, face drawn with thought, muttering to herself. "She kissed me." Ivory heard her say causing him to cough up and splutter the drink he'd poured himself.

His head snapped around to his room. "Toney! Get in here! Quickly!" He called out. The tubist came in with no sense of urgency in her step. She greeted Octavia who again heard nothing, even going so far as to leave the door open as she sat down on the bed and held her head in her hooves.

Deep Tones walked up to her coltfriend and asked about the distracted mare. He whispered what the cellist had said and her eyes went wide, a hoof shooting up to cover her mouth. "How scandalous!" She breathed to herself. The couple moved to the doorway but said nothing.

They listened seeing if they could glean anymore information from the puzzled mare, but Octavia sat in perplexed silence. After a moment they decided to leave her with her thoughts and gently shut her door.

Octavia was in that terrible limbo where one cannot keep a thought in their head, but cannot stop thinking. She thought about how her rage was instantly quelled by those captivating eyes of her's. She thought about how she had just had her first kiss stolen. She wondered why she let it happen.

She wondered why she had stood up for the pony, and very probably had just broken the law by interfering with guards in the execution of their duties. She wondered why she had arranged a meeting with her. But the thought that kept coming up over and over again was. "Why do I want to see her again so badly?"

Octavia sat in this posture until she had to squint her eyes at the morning sun coming in through the window. She suddenly wondered what she had been thinking about literally all night. She slid to the floor and was amazed how sore she was. She stretched painfully, joints popping as she did so.

The cellist walked with the slow gait of one who hadn't slept all night. She went to take her turn in the bathroom as Deep Tones was just coming out. A more alert Octavia would've noticed that she was grinning ear to ear.

The exhausted earth pony walked right by her without seeing her and her unusually wide smile. A quick morning routine later a reinvigorated Octavia trotted out of the bathroom ready to face the day. She opened the door only to find a madly grinning Deep Tones staring at her, less than an inch from her face. She flinched at the unexpected proximity.

"Umm good mo." Octavia tried to say

"Sooo who is she?" The tubist burst out interrupting her dorm mate.

"Who's who?" The cellist asked genuinely confused.

"The one that kissed you! The one you were muttering about all night." The inquisitive pony asked, bumping Octavia with her hip to punctuate the question. The cellist's eyes shot open as the memory of the night's events came roaring back.

Her face was redder than Big Mac's. She squealed into her hooves in embarrassment. The tubist could barely contain her laughter at the sight of the perpetually placid pony turned to blushing mess.

"Oh Celestia what have I done!" Octavia began pacing around the room speaking a mile a minute. The issue for Deep Tones was that Octavia would start a sentence then half way through she'd remember something, a new wave of embarrassment would wash over her, and then she'd start down a new train of thought.

All that the tubist could glean from the broken incoherent ramble was that it was in fact a mare, who plays bad music, that had in fact kissed her. She had kept her out of a dungeon somehow, and that she'd agreed to a rendezvous. The cellist finally slowed down and pressed her back to the door slumping down to the floor. "And now I have to get ready for a." The word caught in her throat. "Date." She almost whispered.

Deep Tones' grin once again risked splitting her face in two. "No dear heart this is great! We've always said you need to get out and meet more ponies! Don't worry about it love. If she's able to keep you up all night, I'm sure she's quite a catch." She said winking. "Don't worry I'll help you with everything you need. You just go to class and don't think once more about it until you get done."

With that she shoved the feebly protesting cellist out the door. "But I've never been on a date!" She whined. The tubist closed the door behind her and started to spring lightly away when she heard a knocking. Eyebrow raised she opened the door to see who it could possibly be at seven thirty in the morning. "I need my cello Toney." Octavia deadpanned.

A historical discussion. (16/40)

Picturesque flew with her gentle wing beats back towards her father's office, eyes closed as always. Her name suited her well as she was uncannily photogenic at all times. She thought absolutely nothing about the very odd pony that she just been seen escorting by half the University.

She may never have thought of, or seen him again if it weren't for two of her friends calling up to her from an elegant little tea shop on campus. She didn't pick up her pace to meet then but simply let herself slip gently down towards them. "Bonjour mon ami." She said, slipping back into her native language unthinkingly.

Her friends, a pair of posh unicorn mares, both the daughters of Lords, looked at her with reprimand in their eyes. "Dearie don't you know what you've done?" One cried touching Picturesque's hoof.

The pegasus only now opening her eyes at the unexpected turn of the conversation. "Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas, or rather, What's the matter?"

The other unicorn spoke up. "You were seen being escorted by the Demon of Diogeneighs' Hall!" She sipped lightly at her tea.

"Who?" The Dean's daughter asked.

"That pony you were just seen with is an absolute ogre!" Her friend said, giving a face of disgust. "An absolute beast of a pony."

"He's been in your father's office on disciplinary action more times than any other pony!" The other said.

"Oh dear, then how has he not been expelled?" Picturesque asked, growing concerned.

"Well he's never actually broken any rules perse, but he's got a terrible fiery temper and his delight is to shout at ponies and make them break down weeping!"

"That babbling mess, oh surely not." The pegasus asked not believing that someone who can't form a full coherent sentence could make a pony cry.

"No really my dear, he was removed from the debate team because he gave his opponent a nervous breakdown, and he caused professor Sophistry to file a formal complaint against him because he made his whole class ridicule him." The unicorn having no knowledge of the situation only knew that the ice faced professor had gone to the Dean whining like a school yard tattler.

"But he was limp as a noodle when I took him to the clinic!" The pegasus said, still trying to wrap her head around the situation. This revelation caused the unicorns to giggle at each other.

"My my my! The Angel has conquered the demon it seems!" Picturesque lightly batted her friend's hoof as she disliked her nickname. "But really Picturesque." The unicorn took one of the pegasus' hooves in both her own. "Please stay away from that brute. It would greatly displease your father!"

Picturesque's eyes opened fully for probably the first time in her life. She had never once even thought of displeasing her father. The very idea was tantamount to saying "please don't burn down the University." She shook her head to clear away the unpleasant thought. "Is he really that bad that my Father detests him so?"

"Worse darling! Your father has wanted to find an excuse to expel him since his first day here. But every time he does that fiend argues semantics until your dear father gives up and sends him away. The blaggart." She said sipping her tea testily as if to wash an unpleasant taste out of her mouth.

"Oh mon pauvre père." Picturesque said rising. "Pardon my rudeness ladies but I simply must see him." With that she sprang into the air.

She arrived at her father's office, door still open, a fuming Dean sitting stiffly at his desk. Picturesque had never seen him upset so she didn't know what upset looked like. She trotted in, not even noticing his posture and bearing. She came up and kissed his cheek as she always did. The Dean's demeanor softened as he could never stay mad at his daughter. "My dear, what's this I hear of you walking with a certain young colt?" He said almost all the venom drained from his voice.

"Oh mon pére I've just heard what a terrible pony he is to make you suffer so." She hugged his back, his mood softened considerably more. "He was at the door and he was standing slackened and drooling so that I thought he was having some sort of episode. So I took him to the clinic." The Dean tensed again. He knew all too well what would make a young stallion slacken and drool.

"Oh my dear caring daughter. Even able to show compassion to the lowest of ponies." His mood stiffened again at a new suspicion. "And then you came straight back here yes?" He asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"No, I met mes amies having tea and they told me all about that horrid pony." The Dean relaxed fully. Confident in the knowledge that the Demon had not sunk his claws into his little angel.

Oh you poor poor stupid pony.

The next day Picturesque was flying at the only speed she knew how to, slowly and
gracefully, towards her Literature of Preclassical Prançe class. One of the few classes her father had signed her up for, to give her something to do during the day. It was okay though as she liked literature. The Dean didn't have to worry as the literature professor was one of his oldest lackeys.

The professor's tastes were. No. There's no need for pretenses. Illegal. His tastes were illegal. Don't worry though, he gets his comeuppance. The Dean knew of his very illegal tastes and held them over the pony's head. So if anyone got too close to his little angel, he'd tell the Dean, who'd be able to swoop down like a hawk.

She was out of her normal placidity though, as she couldn't get the thought of Roané Haycarte out of her head. All the terrible things she'd heard just didn't match the limp noodle she'd helped walk to the clinic. How could such a pony make grown stallions cry and cause such trouble for her dear father? It didn't make any sense.

Well miracle of miracles she just happened to notice a certain dark brown earth pony with prematurely greyed mane trotting as if he'd had some business in Trotto von Bismark Hall, the central hub of the history department of RCU. Picturesque decided that missing one class wouldn't be the end of the world, plus she just had to settle this issue plaguing her mind.

Haycarte sat front and center, as he did in every class, so he didn't notice when Picturesque slipped in and sat at the very back by the door. The class had already begun and professor Emeritus Scroll Scribe had the nervous face of somepony who knew they had the sword of Damocles dangling above their head.

He happened to be giving a lecture on. "Oh no! Not Neighpoleon!" The pegasus' head hit the desk. "Why? Why does every professor like the Bohaymean Ogre?" She thought to herself petulantly. She sat head leaned on her hoof the single most bored she had ever been. This so called demon sat like all the other students taking notes.

She'd seen more than enough. The pegasus' had no inclination to sit there listening to somepony praising a pony who'd brought her homeland so much misery. She hadn't even shut the door behind her when the roar hit her like a thunder clap. The limp noodle of yesterday was standing on his hind legs hooves digging into the desk.

"NEIGHPOLEON WAS A TYRANT, A MURDERER, AND A WAR MONGER!" Haycarte shouted at the professor who was cowering behind his clipboard. Picturesque poked her head back into the class in shock. Not only at the noise but at the passion of the remark. The pegasus' had never heard anypony speak in such a manner before. It didn't hurt that he happened to be saying what she had been thinking the whole class.

"Now now." The poor professor tried to make his case. "Neighpoleon managed to reign in the chaotic political climate of his time and."

The roaring that rattled the rafters recommenced. "HE SEIZED POWER BY FORCE AND TURNED HIS ARTILLERY ON HIS OWN CITIZENS IF THEY REBELLED!"

The professor, who after having had classes with Haycartes for weeks now honestly should've known better, continued. "He led his ponies to great victories in.

The fillysopher somehow grew even louder. His earlier tone, a forceful rebuke in the tone somepony would warn a pony they were in danger. Now his tone was one of active, personal anger as if he'd been insulted. "HE LED A SERIES OF POINTLESS WARS AGAINST WEAKER NATIONS! IT WAS SO BAD THE PRINCESS HERSELF HAD TO STOP HIM AT TROTTERLOO!" Picturesque was thoroughly enthralled. This pony wasn't being malicious. He was just honestly intellectually offended, and was defending his point. She didn't know how to process this.

The professor pony was now on the verge of tears hiding fully behind his clip board. "He brought the maretric system to Equestria!"

Roané Haycartes plopped down now completely calm. He took up his pencil in his mouth and muttered barely audibly. "No but it was implemented during his reign." Picturesque was stunned. He could just turn it on and off at will. She held a hoof to her heart. Her head was spinning. This wasn't a roaring ogre going out of his way to hurt ponies. This was a pony who refused to allow professors to lie to him, or his classmates.

She flew out of the building and straight to her father's office. She excused her absence from class to her father as a mild distemperament of the soul, and spent the day playing the harp for her father. Her mind kept coming back to the scene that she had witnessed in the lecture hall.

She had never heard a pony be so forceful without malice. Nopony had ever displayed that kind of passion in front of her before, and she was from Prance! Land of cheese, passion, and bad accordion music! Ponies shouldn't speak that way to professors, she knew, but he wasn't wrong. Ponies shouldn't shout at other ponies. But he wasn't wrong!

The professor wasn't necessarily defending the Bohaymean ogre, but he was saying nice things about him. The part she couldn't get out of her mind though despite the ungracefulness of the delivery was. He. Wasn't. Wrong. He wasn't even mad as he'd only spoken, not shouted, the bit about the maretric system.

Picturesque was in a pickle. She had always been given anything she'd ever wanted before she could ask for it, so she didn't actually know what want felt like. So she was thoroughly unprepared when all she wanted in the world right now was to see Haycartes again, but she needed a legitimate excuse.

She was still lost in thought when Scroll Scribe himself walked in and slapped a portfolio down on the Dean's desk. "Hoof! I've had all I can stand and I can't stand anymore." Dean Grasping Hoof raised his grasping hoof to try to calm the outraged intellectual.

"No! I am professor emeritus of precolonial and colonial history. I will not be treated like this!" The blustering professor started to pace. "He has no respect for his elders, and I demand his expulsion post haste. I-I-I mean the nerve of that pony to call Neighpoleon nothing but a tyrant! No appreciation for the the the subtlety of history. The uh the uh nuance of understanding a pony's character to get an accurate historical description of a pony."

"Well he did fire on his own citizens." Picturesque said matter of factly shocking them both into silence. Both stared in shock as Picturesque had never spoken out of turn once in her life.

Scroll Scribe was off balance. He tried to continue. "Well yes but. Well you see it was a very complicated political situation at the time and."

The Dean reflexatorily came to the side of his daughter. "What's so complicated about it! Some ponies didn't like him declaring himself emperor so he blew them up! You sir would do well to remember that." He rose and held his daughter protectively.

"My little filly is from Prance. She clearly knows how the ponies of Prance felt about their so called emperor better than you do." His face went red and his jowls shook as he shouted. "And you'd do well not to talk so highly of him if you'd like to keep your position Mr. Scribe." He said the professor's name with a sneer.

Scroll Scribe apologized and dissembled like a courtier on the verge of being executed for displeasing his King. "UUUHM yes will I mean clearly I umm Neighpo I mean the Bohaymean ogre I mean was clearly a."

Dean Grasping Hoof knew he had let the professor sweat enough. He hadn't raised himself to Dean of the most prestigious University on the planet by humiliating ponies and making enemies. No, the way you make a sycophant is by bullying them into doing what you want, then making up to them as if it was their fault. Then once they're back on your side you give them the option of doing what you want them to and they jump at it. Celestia help him he loved it.

"My dear scroll, clearly you just need a better understanding of the ponies of Prance. Take some of that excessive vacation time you've been sitting on. Go there! Tour the museums. Get a feel for the history." He wrapped a companionable hoof around the professor's neck. "See the sights if you know what I mean. Her mother was from Prance you know." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Scroll Scribe knew better than to look at the Dean's daughter, but she was what came to his mind when one said the ponies of Prance. The Dean's tone hardened to put the final nail in the coffin. Leave em scared was the way. Make em feel like you did them a favor, but get em running out. "Scroll you are to go to Prançe, and reeducate yourself on the subject of Neighpoleon. And don't come back till you do. IS. THAT. CLEAR?

"YES! umm Thank you Dean uum I'll do just that. Umm I'll leave tonight. Umm I'll do that right now. Thank you Dean. Thank you!" With that he scampered out of the office and Dean Grasping Hoof plopped his generous plot into his chair, smug in his control over his staff.

His mood was ruined when he suddenly realized he had just sided with Roané Haycartes over a professor. One that he had installed! One that owed his career to him! He had handled the situation perfectly of course, but why had he done that?

No. He had sided with his daughter right? She had said Neighpoleon was bad right. Because she was from Prance that was it, wasn't it?

The Dean took a long hard look at his daughter. She sat there, expertly plucking her harp as always. Gentle as a lamb and sweet as an angel. She didn't like Neighpoleon, so nopony was going to like Neighpoleon. That was it, he was sure of it. He told himself this unconvinced, doubt still lingering in his mind.

This wasn't right. He'd handled the situation perfectly of course, but he wasn't done. That damned pony still needed to be knocked down a peg. Measures would have to be taken. The Dean started furiously filling in a formal disciplinary action form.

He stamped it with his cutie mark, and was about to call for a runner, when his darling daughter snatched the paper off the desk and flew out of the office. She called behind her. "Let me take that for you mon pére." Before he could call out for her to stop, she was gone.

Miracle of miracles Daddy had once again given her exactly what she wanted before being asked. She could now without any impropriety go to the stallion's dorm and maybe, if he was in, see the pony that had filled her mind all morning.

Public Displays of Affection Strictly Verboten (17/40)

The appointed time finally arrived and Octavia paced around in the lobby of Le Calembour de Cheval en Prançais. Instead of her trademark pink bowtie and white collar she wore a small purple slip of a gown that suited her well. She had refused utterly to apply cosmetics, as she felt they were dishonest, much to her roommates annoyance.

The appointed minute slowly ticked away and Octavia was kicking herself for thinking that a degenerate hedonist would ever keep an appointment. Just as she was considering leaving in disgrace, both doors flew open dramatically. Vinyl Scratch, DJ to the stars, and baddest bitch in Canterlot, strutted in wearing a large pair of headphones whose music could be heard all the way from the host's podium.

Had they been able to understand the words they might have gleaned that this was the second remix of hit that classy bitch. She had a small saddlebag with her, the headphones' cord lolling lazily out.

Vinyl had gone through a small panic the night before, as she hadn't caught the name of the place that they were supposed to meet at. Fortunately for all involved our big royal blue friend, who happened to be named Royal Blue, overheard, and told Vinyl all she needed to know, and much she didn't. He wouldn't shut up about the place. Apparently the mountainous earth pony was a massive Prancofile and ate there anytime he could. But more on that later.

Octavia was mortified. She was going to reprimand the uncouth unicorn but as she prepared to speak Vinyl got a full view of the earth pony. She stopped her music and put her sunglasses on top of her head to get a better look. "Damn Octavia! You look fine as fuck!'' Octavia, under the spell of those hypnotic eyes, decided that Vinyl was forgiven for everything forever.

The Host looked down his nose at the DJ. Vinyl noticed the look and met it chin lowered defiantly. She knew the type. Self important snobby types. They didn't bother her. She was itching for the pony to say something. She loved putting snobs in their place.

The Host was about to mention the profanity but he felt a hoof on his foreleg. "She's with me Pierre." The first chair cellist of the Royal Canterlot Fillyharmonic explained and he relented. One is not rude to the guest of one of the most prestigious musicians in Equestria and keep their job long.

"Très bonne madame. Juste de cette façon mesdames. The Host unicorn said levitating two menus in his magic. He led them through an elegant dining room with a string quartet playing the music of Beethoofen gently in the corner.

Octavia with effortless grace cooed. "Merci. Viens, par ici Vinyl." There it was again, those words that made Vinyl forget what she was doing. The unicorn followed dreamily, too distracted even to stare at her date's backside.

The Host led them over to a booth and a waiter appeared with their wine. The two ponies were left alone. Vinyl had recovered from her daze. Luckily for Octavia the DJ had her ridiculous sunglasses on so she could think and speak clearly. That said though, neither said anything for slightly too long to be comfortable.

"Nice place." Vinyl said trying to get the ball rolling.

"Umm yes, it's the only place in Canterlot to get decent food from Prançe." She said sipping her wine. "Try the wine. It's a nom du vin en pas anglais soixante-dix sept, from my mother's home region."

If Vinyl could think right now all she would be thinking is "those damned words again!" She needed a distraction. She latched on to the last statement. "Wait you're Prench?"

"Vinyl only barbarians call it Prench." Octavia said, feeling the need to defend the dignity of the land of silly accents, mustaches, and bad accordion music. "One is to say a thing is from Prançe or of Prançe." Putting extra emphasis on the O sound.

"Huh." Was all that Vinyl could summon.

"Oui, mon mére, and I would spend our summers in Maresailles, avec ma grand-mère." Octavia continued slipping in and out of the language of her birthplace. Vinyl continued to stare entranced long after Octavia had stopped talking, eyes glazed behind her sunglasses, a goofy grin on her face.

Octavia's eyebrow raised slightly. "The wine?" She gestured with her hoof. Vinyl scrambled out of her daze, almost spilling her glass. She caught it with her magic and downed the full glass at a draught, bits of wine trickling down the sides of her muzzle.

"Damn that's good!" The unicorn said, louder than is appropriate for a restaurant. Luckily nopony looked.

Octavia took her napkin and dabbed the sides of vinyls mouth scolding. "Vinyl Scratch! One does not inhale a soixante-dix sept. It's to be savoured." Vinyl could not resist the sexy speech's allure any more. She seized one of Octavia's hooves and pressed a kiss into it. The poor cellist's face positively glowed for blushing.

Fortunately or unfortunately that's when the waiter chose to materialize out of thin air. "How may I serve you Madames Octavia sprung bolt upright face still glowing.

It was her turn to speak slightly too loud. "Quelque chose de fantaisie qui sonne avec des plantes s'il vous plaît!"

The waiter unphased said. "Très bonne Madame. And for you Madame?"

Vinyl had been stewing for the last several seconds at the cock block waiter's intrusion. She raised an eyebrow as if to say. "Bro I dunno what you fuckin serve here." After a moment she dismissively said. "I'll have what she's having." The DJ thought for a moment. "Oh and more bitchin wine!" She shouted after the retreating waiter.

This time other ponies did look. Vinyl gave them the same look she had given the host. Her trademark "WHAT? DO SOMETHIN!" face. Vinyl had a very verbose visage.

Octavia knew this could not continue. She had to find a way to continue this date without disrupting the other pony's dinners. Inspiration struck. "Umm Vinyl?" The unicorn looked back at her date thinking she was going to be nagged again, and to her surprise this thought actually concerned her. "Perhaps you'd like to cast that noise cancelling spell again. Uhm just around this booth if you would. To give our conversation more intimacy."

Octavia wanted to buck her own mouth for phrasing it that way. Vinyl on the other hoof appreciated it to no end. She smiled wantonly and waved her horn, a shimmering blue glow filled the booth then dissipated. The dull roar of the restaurant faded away and all the two ponies could hear was their own breathing.

"Well done Vinyl." The cellist cheered. "I do say that appeared to take much less effort than the one.-" Her words faltered and her voice quieted. "Last night."

The DJ stretched back nonchalantly and assumed a haughty posture. "Well way easier to do a booth than a whole building." She pretended to examine her hooves.

"Much better than the one my classmate cast on my bedroom." The earth pony wondered out loud. "Hmm I wonder why it didn't work."

The unicorn dropped the arrogant air and leaned forward interestedly. "Wait you had a noise cancel spell in your room?" She stared intensely at her date.

"Umm yes, my dorm mates are rather.-" She looked down and away. "Noisy. So I had a unicorn of my acquaintance cast the spell last night. But it didn't seem to work as I could hear your.-" Octavia wanted to say noise but her conscience told her to be nice. "Music."

"THAT'S WHERE NEON'S FUCKIN SPELL WENT! DAMNIT!" Vinyl shouted, pleased to finally have solved that little mystery. Octavia reflexatorily shushed the unicorn. "Relax they can't hear shit." She pointed a hoof at a posh looking unicorn wearing a comically tall top hat in the booth across from them. "HEY BUDDY! FUCK YOU!" She shouted. The hatted unicorn didn't even look. Octavia giggled in spite of herself.

Vinyl resumed her explanation. "If two noise cancelling spells are cast within range of each other they both fuck each other up."

The waiter placed another glass of wine in front of Vinyl along with their salads. Octavia reflexatorily chirped. "Merci beaucoup."

Vinyl sighed amorously. That was enough. She had to figure this out. "Stop That!"

The cellist shrank into herself, worried she'd committed some unknown faux pas. "Stop what?"

The DJ stood up shouting, hooves on the table. "STOP MAKING ME FEEL GOOD WITH YOUR MOUTH!" She plopped down in her seat. "And not in the normal way." Vinyl chugged her wine testily.

"What do you mean?" The earth pony said, blushing again at the innuendo.

"The fancy sexy words you keep saying!" It was Vinyl's turn to blush and avoid eye contact.

"You mean the language of Prançe?" Octavia said eyebrow raised.

"Whatever you keep saying to the waiters? The food names, the wine." She took a large gulp.

"You don't like it?" Octavia fiddled with her wine glass nervously.

"No! It's not that it's." Vinyl sighed. "It makes me horny but not in the normal way. Like instead of wanting to eat your asshole I just want to."

She was interrupted by a burst of incredulous laughter. "I'M SORRY WHAT?! WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?! EAT WHAT?!" The cellist's face turned blue she laughed so hard.

Vinyl laid back nonchalantly. "What? That's the way it goes. Step one find fuckable pony. Step two eat ass. Repeat."

Octavia couldn't breathe. The waiter with their entrees decided now was a bad time. Finally, after almost suffocating she finally squeaked out. "H . . . H. . . How? How is. . ." She gasped and tried to calm herself. "How is that all you know of romance? How are you this beautiful pony and the first and last step for you is putting your tongue in the absolute last place it should go?!"

Vinyl quickly looked away. "You think I'm beautiful?" The DJ had been called fine, hot, and the baddest bitch in Canterlot, but never beautiful. This classy bitch was on a whole nother level.

"Vinyl you are beautiful" She laid a hoof on the mare's. She looked deeply into Vinyl's sunglasses. "Pardonnez-moi tous les lecteurs français pour la moquerie constante de votre langue barbare nasale."

Vinyl protested impotently. "stop." Was all she could whisper. The cellist had never flirted before but apparently it came naturally to her. She did not stop. No, Octavia had found the vein and was going to mine it for all it was worth. She seized Vinyl's hoof and pressed a small kiss into it. Vinyl was completely entranced. She was as hypnotized as Octavia had been by her eyes.

The DJ leaned in begging for more. Octavia leaned in now whispering. "Sérieusement s'il vous plaît ne soyez pas fou." The two leaned in close momentum already drawing them in for the kiss, when they both noticed the Host pony's face hovering just over the table. The two were shocked out of their romantic fantasy and sprang back from each other.

He'd had to get uncomfortably close to be heard through the noise cancellation spell. "Madams far be it from me to interrupt a romantic evening; but we have a very strict policy against public displays of affection." The two looked around the room and noticed that anypony who could see was staring at them. Vinyl swore to herself that she was going to murder every single one of these cock blocks.

Minutes later the two had paid their bill and were exiting the front door in awkward silence. They hadn't even touched their food and the waiters were treated to master crafted cuisine from Prançe. The chefs were not pleased their labours were going to the rabble.

Vinyl started to giggle which broke into a hearty laugh. Octavia couldn't help but smile, she was quickly falling in love with that laugh. "Well that was fun." The party pony exclaimed. "We'll have to do this again soon."

"Yes well thank you for a lovely evening, but I suggest we quit while we're ahead." Octavia said bowing. She started to walk away, disappointed how the night had ended.

Vinyl called out trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. "Wait hold on please!" Octavia halted her retreat. "I wanna see you again." She put a hoof on Octavia's shoulder. "I really like you." Octavia turned to face her but didn't seem to want to make eye contact.

Vinyl cozied up to the cellist, and bumped her with her hip. "You know last time you came to one of my shows you made it all the way to the V.I.P. section. How'd you like to stick around this time." The DJ wiggled her eyebrows.

"Uuum perhaps." The cellist exhaled, trying not to tackle the amorous mare. An idea popped into her head. "But only if you come see me play at the Fillyharmonica!"

Vinyl facehoofed. "Nooo seriously? Come on don't play me like that!" The unicorn whined.

The earth pony tried to assuage the DJ's annoyance. "Don't worry you'll love it." She took Vinyl's hoof and whispered. "Assez jolie s'il vous plaît."

Vinyl couldn't believe she'd been so easily played. This mare was going to be the death of her. "Uuuuuuuuuuuuuugh fine!" She held out a comedically long time. "I'll fuckin go." She said pouting.

Octavia hugged vinyl tight. "Ooooh thank you. I promise you'll have a good time." The earth pony realized what she was doing and slowly let go. An idea flashed across her mind, and she became pensive. "Umm Vinyl. Do you think you could do me a favour?"

Vinyl brightened. "Yeah, what, anything?"

Octavia fiddled with her hooves, unsure if she should do what she was about to do. "Could you umm. Could you take your sunglasses off please?" Vinyl shrugged her shoulders and presented the center of Octavia's universe. She dropped the glasses in surprise as Octavia pressed her against the wall, and kissed her deeply.

Before Vinyl could wrap her hooves around the passionate mare she ran off into the magically lit streets of the cool Canterlot night. Vinyl was left alone. Instead of being mad about being cock blocked for the umpteenth time, she danced all the way to her apartment. She sang the third remix of classy bitch to herself. Her steps were light as a pegasus' on clouds. The expression didn't cross her mind but she was head over hooves, and it felt great!

She shut the door behind her and put a hoof to her heart, and sighed contentedly.
Vinyl felt a levity that had nothing to do with controlled substances. She felt good. She felt really really good. She felt so good she couldn't go to sleep yet, she had to find something to do just so she could keep feeling this good. She cleaned her entire apartment from top to bottom and still this feeling of utter bliss didn't leave her.

Finally she just lay on her couch giggling to herself, thinking about the sweet things her little mare had said to her. She had called her beautiful, she had kissed her, and best of all she was going to see her again at the . . . What was it called again. When. Where. Vinyl lurched forward. "AH SHIIIT!"

Screaming is best introduction (18/40)

Roané Haycartes rose at dawn as was his custom no matter how late he stayed up or how hung over he felt. He had decided on a plan of action. He would go to his morning classes as usual then spend the afternoon with Wordsmith learning how to woo a mare.

He had just finished his morning classes, and he trotted into his dorm ready to attack the task at hand. He looked to his still sleeping dormmate and wondered to himself how the pony managed to sleep so long. "Wordsmith!" He called in his hard voice. "Rise friend, it is time for you to teach me how to love."

Wordsmith's eyes didn't open, rather shutting harder. He pulled the blankets over his head and mumbled. " We've discussed your lack of tact in phrasing old colt." He rolled away from his friend.

The earth pony yanked the blankets off of the unicorn, who covered his head with his hooves and mumbled something about a painful death. "Come Wordsmith, you said you would help me write missives, and now is the time to do so."

The groggy poet fumbled without looking through the papers in his desk with his hoof until he found the right one. "Here." he said, handing the awakener a scented slip of paper. "Write your name on that and she's all yours." He reclaimed his blankets with his magic and dumped them unceremoniously in a pile on himself. "Good day sir."

The fillysopher's eyes darted across the page. His face went from his usual resting mule face, to a look of confusion, to anger, to disgust, then finally back to anger. "This is terrible," the earth pony spat. "You expect me to woo anypony with this much less her?"

Wordsmith was instantly on his hooves. "You forget yourself sir!" the wounded poet barked. "That page is a masterful demonstration of the romantic art. You sir, who have no romance in your soul, have no grounds to critique it."

"We've never even made love, so half of it doesn't even make sense! And I never mentioned her perfume," the fillysopher yelled. The two were forehead to forehead battling for dominance.

The residents of the entire Hall of dormitories were cowering in fear. They didn't like it when Mommy and Daddy fought, at least not while they're sober. All the doors were closed and locked so nopony noticed when the Angel of RCU strolled gracefully in. Picturesque heard the argument and pressed herself against the outside doorway to listen. "What in blazes are they so piqued about?" She wondered to herself.

"You expect me to give the most beautiful pony in Equestria recycled, cliched, insincere drivel. Save that for your disinterested flings my friend, do not give it to the pony that robs my mouth of its words, and the air from my lungs. "

Wordsmith was livid but that last line gave him an idea. "Well then what should one say to your little crush then? Since suddenly you're the romantic expert, you tell me! What's so different about this harpist of yours?" He surreptitiously levitated a quill to the page on the table, without breaking eye contact.

"How dare you reduce this sensation to a mere trifle! That pony robbed me of my senses, destroyed my world and rebuilt it in her image, tore my soul asunder. Don't you dare defile this devotion with your unhallowed tongue!"

Wordsmith hadn't lost a word, but he needed the fillysopher turned romantic to continue. He baited him on further. "Oh you exaggerate dear fellow. I have it on good authority that there are more attractive mares than her. What about that nice little unicorn I set you up with a while back?"

Haycartes' eyes flamed. "There is no comparison to be had! Did the gods themselves shape that unicorn? Does that unicorn's hoof falls grace the ground she walks on? When that unicorn speaks does all of creation stop just to hear a word from those divine lips?"

Picturesque was speechless. Her hooves pressed against her mouth in shock. The forgotten disciplinary note crumpled against her muzzle. She was on the verge of tears at this romantic outpouring. She knew all the old romantic tales of her homeland, but whispered amours didn't compare to having a stallion's love roared for any to hear.

The shouting, secret dictation, and eaves dropping would have continued indefinitely but right then is when Sawbones had the misfortune to finish his volunteering at the campus clinic. He trotted up, eyes focused on a pile of papers he was supposed to help his professor grade. "I swear why can't doctors ever wr~."

His complaint was cut short by him noticing Picturesque pressed against the doorframe, staring at him in shock at being discovered. Sawbones stopped in the open doorway unable to speak, breath caught in his throat. Picturesque begged with her hooves folded for him not to discover her to them, but he pointed with his hoof desperately, looking from the eaves dropper to the debaters.

"You don't know what it's like to be in agony wanting to pour out an ocean of love with words, and not being able to speak." Haycartes barked.

"Guys." Sawbones finally managed to squeak.

"Oh and I'm sure you do? Tell me how is it then? Enlighten me." Wordsmith mocked. He had noticed Sawbones, but this was too important. He may never get a chance like this again and couldn't afford to waste it.

"Guys!" The medical student managed with a bit more volume.

"It's mind boggling! Every nerve in your body is screaming run, but every ounce of you're soul is saying stay at the same time!"

"GUYS!" Sawbones finally getting his breath back shouted.

"WHAT?!" Both arguers shouted at once. The scrubs green unicorn limply pointed at the hidden mare. "She's standing right there isn't she?" Both again asked at exactly the same time. Sawbones nodded once. Haycartes had his back to the door but he didn't need to look to know it was true. He suffered sudden onset of rigor mortis and fell over stiff as a board.

Picturesque shoved the remembered disciplinary action form into Sawbones hooves and flew out the window. Wordsmith sighed heavily. "The one time I take the pains to write something down, and it's superfluous. I'm still charging you for the dictation!" He joked at his catatonic roommate.

Hello. My name is Roané Haycartes, and I would like to stick my (20/40)

Picturesque spent most of her life going through the motions. A perpetual emotional neutral. Whereas most ponies would have fallen into a malaise, she simply didn't know any other state of mind.

So it was a marked difference when for the first time in her life she was genuinely happy. She had always walked about gracefully, but she simply couldn't keep her hooves on the ground. She floated about singing lightly to herself, and was always giggling at an unheard joke.

Dean Grasping Hoof was no foal. He was conniving, egotistical, vain, greedy, and selfish, but not foalish. He knew the tell tale signs, but didn't want to admit it to himself. "You're in rare form today my dear." He said trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

The jovial mare took a minute to register the comment. "Hhhmm?" She said dreamily. "Oh yes well, I received a very handsome complement from somepony today." She embraced her father. "It's got me all in a tingle." She kissed the spot where his coat was thinning a little, as he called it.

He ground his teeth together. He couldn't be mad at his precious little filly, but somepony was trying to take her away from him. He had always planned to marry Picturesque off to one of his cronies, and move them into the country home so that he could keep them both on a tight leash.

A horrible thought flashed across his mind. He went pale. No. No that couldn't be it. Not my precious little Picturesque. She couldn't be. Not with him. Not with that DEMON.

Picturesque full of all sorts of deviation of character recently, noticed her father's distemper. "What ever is the matter mon pére?" Grasping Hoof scrambled to find something to be wrong. He could handle this. He was a master manipulator, he could control his own dear, naive daughter.

"Oh its just this Roané Haycartes fellow again." He said, putting on his best "pity me" voice. "Everyday it's some new complaint, either about him or from him. He drives me to distraction." Picturesque thought to herself that she found him distracting too. "The pony is a blaggard, an instigator, a brawler, and a drunk!" He said now genuinely venting about the thorn in his hoof that the fillysopher was.

"Non mon pére! Not a drunkard." The Pegasus said genuinely concerned that she may be in love with a legitimately violent pony.

"YES!" The Dean was shouting now, jowls shaking violently. "He spends every evening, with that lowlife son of the Duke of Saddlesbury, drinking, and shouting, and fighting at the Breached Barrel."

Picturesque's ears shot forward. "Every night?" She thought to herself.

"He harasses my staff, and assaults my students!" The overweight unicorn bellowed.

Picturesque gasped. "No mon pére! Say it isn't so." Her heart ached at the thought of her first love being an eloquent brute.

"Yes! He-!" The Dean's volume slackened as he was forced to qualify the statement. "Well I mean he was acquitted by the disciplinary committee of any wrong doing and the." He was muttering angrily now. "Protester apologized and testified in his defense that he had attacked Haycartes."

Picturesque's heart lept in her chest. She was head over hooves for an honorable pony. She couldn't resist any longer. She decided to use this as an excuse to excuse herself. "Oh mon pauvre père." She put a hoof to her forehead. "I simply cannot stand to hear anymore! I must retire." She kissed her father's bald spot and flew out of the room.

Dean Grasping Hoof steepled his grasping hooves and chuckled a cruel chuckle to himself. "Perfect." If he weren't such a comically evil pony one might actually feel bad for how hard he's going to be fucked. The poor poor stupid stupid pony.

Picturesque only knew where the tavern in question was because the Dean's overly elaborate carriage passed it each day going to and from the University. It was the first time she had ever set hoof anywhere near a tavern. She felt a very unfamiliar feeling. Doubt. This love affair of her's was introducing all sorts of emotions to the graceful pegasus.

She pushed through the double doors and was instantly noticed by everyone with the exception of a certain unicorn and earth pony. A bar fly got up to go talk to the vision of loveliness that had just graced the hole in the wall, when his friend put him in a head lock and pulled them both behind the bar. The rest of the bar ponies had silently skittered out of the bar, fleeing for dear life.

The dorm mates of our acquaintance had spent the afternoon and early evening consoling the broken hearted pony. Well that is to say after they had made sure that the bash to the head Haycartes had sustained during his fall hadn't been dangerous.

The love struck fillysopher was actually factually pouting. His head on the table, a long miserable frown on his face. A preposterously large collection of pint glasses sat on the adjoining table. He was in such a state that everytime a pint of cider was placed before him, he took it like a shot, swallowing the drink whole. "My dear Haycartes, wee simply must sign you up for one of those delightful chugging contests one of these days."

The usually eloquent Haycartes only answered in a disinterested sigh. "Kay."
Wordsmith had to time his pints as to not allow him to have another incident. He kept trying to light his pipe but Haycartes constant pining sigh kept putting out his matches before he could get it lit.

The poet was dutifully trying to cheer his disheartened dorm mate. "My dear fellow don't you see? This is the best possible thing! She heard your amours off the cuff, straight from the horse's mouth, as the saying goes." The unicorn allowed the earth pony to swallow another pint whole.

"Don't worry old colt I'm sure she's right about to walk through that SON OF A WHORE!" His voice rose in shock at seeing the subject of their conversation standing within earshot. In the back of his mind wordsmith thought. "Maybe I should take up prophecy."

Roané Haycartes' head shot off the table. His eyes grew wide then went out of focus. Picturesque waved shyly at the apparent disturbance she had caused. He stood stock still and didn't say a word.

The three were now alone in the bar silently staring at each other. Wordsmith nudged his friend to say something but the stiffened corpse merely tottered back and forth like a ceramic bowl with audible sound effect to match. Picturesque giggled in spite of herself. She felt bad about the effect she had on the usually fiery stallion, but it was simply too absurd not to laugh at.

Wordsmith knew the risk involved in being around this mare but his duty to his friend forced his hoof. He whispered intensely to his friend. "Get a hold of yourself old colt. This young lady came all the way down here to see you now go and get her." The statue remained unmoved. "Oh for the love of Celestia!" He sighed to himself.

Wordsmith levitated the dumb struck pony over to his lady love and placed him less than a meter in front of her. "Hello sir." The pretty pegasus proclaimed, but no response came from the vacantly staring pony. Picturesque was growing genuinely concerned.

Wordsmith rolled his eyes, completely fed up with this farce. He levitated Haycartes again and did a poor imitation of his friends hard voice. It sounded like a disgruntled cement mixer. He bobbed the fillysopher like a filly playing with a doll does when she makes it speak. "Hello my name is Roané Haycarte and I'd like to stick my."

The earth pony's leg shot out bucking a bottle at the speaker, hitting him in the head and knocking him unconscious, before he could finish saying something so vulgar to the mare he loved.

Picturesque giggled at the display. "Well you are in there somewhere! Well, yes I heard what you said about me the other day, and." She blushed like a school filly and looked away, rubbing one hoof on the other. "It was the most romantic thing I've ever heard."

She came up to the statue that was once a pony and settled herself under his muzzle. "I've never met a pony like you. You aren't foul tempered like ponies say, you just don't like to be lied to. Like with the Bohaymian ogre." She spat the name distastefully. "That horrid professor tried to lionize him!"

A croaky cracked whisper seeped out from the still unmoving pony she was leaned against. "Scroll Scribe is an excellent historian. He just bought into the cult of personality surrounding Neighpoleon."

Picturesque gasped. Her love had finally spoken directly to her. Well sort of. She dashed in front of him hoping to see the stiffness lifted. She was disappointed to see him still staring distantly. Her ears drooped. "Mon amour why won't you look at me." She pleaded.

A very concussed Wordsmith raised his head long enough to say. "Oh will you just fu~." Another bottle hit him in the head and he was out cold.

Picturesque was unsure but resumed her snuggling position. "Mon amour, why can't you look at me?"

Again a hardly audible croak. "Because my mind can't reconcile the fact that something so beautiful can exist. So it shuts down when it sees you."

The mare blushed wildly and giggled. "Can you walk mon amour?" She cooed snuggling close.

"You led me all the way to the clinic yesterday so, maybe?" She gently pulled at a foreleg and the earth pony stiffly started to walk. They walked slowly matching step for step exiting the bar.

Wordsmith was left in an empty building unconscious on the floor. A minute later Sawbones burst in through the double doors. "SMITH! I just heard Picturesque was seen flying this way! We have to." He noticed his friend's condition. The medical student sighed heavily. "I'm gonna start charging you ponies for all this free medical attention I've been giving you." He trotted over to the prone poet and checked his vitals.

When he wouldn't wake upon shaking Sawbones levitated the other unicorn and looked him in the sleeping face. "You owe me big." He suddenly looked around suspiciously. Seeing the coast was clear he stole a quick kiss. He grinned widely and trotted out of the bar carrying Wordsmith in his magic. "Now we're even!"

Say it! FUCKIN SAY IT! (21/40)

Octavia woke in her room. She was laying on her side and saw a pair of white hooves in front of her. She turned towards the ceiling and saw herself reflected in the eyes she loved so much.

She could've spent the rest of her life in that moment. Just studying every facet of those flawless rubies. She reached a hoof up to gently caress Vinyl's face. The unicorn kissed the hoof as it reached her muzzle. "Sup grey?" She whispered.

The tender moment was interrupted by a flood of memory hitting her all at once. Octavia lept to her hooves like a scared cat and stammered. "V-v-v-Vinyl! What are you doing here?"

Vinyl Scratch pouted slightly at the sudden interruption of their snuggling. She teased "You don't seem very happy to see me?" Octavia moved back to the bed and kissed Vinyl gently in apology. "That's better." The DJ cooed. She patted the bed for Octavia to join her.

The cellist was unsure. This was the first time she'd had a. . . mare in her room? She still wasn't fully reconciled to the idea she was madly in love with somepony of her own sex. She was on uneven ground, but she had just admitted to being in love with this pony so it didn't seem inappropriate.

She blushed slightly as she scrambled up onto the too small for two bed next to her mare. Vinyl scooted closer and the two sat for a while just enjoying the contact. Vinyl laid her head on Octavia's and sighed contentedly.

The DJ was on uneven ground. This was the first time she had cuddled for the sake of cuddling. Any other time it was wham bam thank you ma'am now politely bugger off, but she had just admitted to her bros that she was in love with this pony so it didn't seem inappropriate. Finally Octavia broke the comfortable silence. "Vinyl. How much did you hear?"

The unicorn chuckled as she teased. "Babe, I heard EVERYTHING. You're in love, Celestia help you, you're in love!" She held the earth pony close as she buried her face in her hooves.

"Mmms thmmmt mmmkmmm" Octavia said, face still buried in her hooves. Vinyl gently lifted Octavia's chin and stared deeply into her violet eyes.

"Hhm?" The DJ asked, now noticing tears poised ready to fall in the corners of the cellist's eyes.

Octavia had to look away. Those eyes did things to her. Things she liked, but right now she needed to focus. She breathed in deeply to compose herself. "Is. . . Is that okay?"

Vinyl brought a hoof up the cellist's face, and wiped the tears out of the corners of her eyes before they could fall. "Would I have stuck around if it weren't?" The unicorn said then gave the earth pony a comforting kiss.

Octavia put her head to Vinyl's heart. She couldn't bear to look at her while she asked the most important question of her young life. She slammed her eyes shut and asked in a timid broken voice. "Then do you?" She couldn't even finish the question.

The cellist waited, and with her ear to the DJ's chest she could hear her heart pounding, and a deep intake of breath. She heard through her chest rather than from her mouth that Vinyl had said something but Octavia couldn't understand what was said.

She raised her head and tried to make eye contact but Vinyl Scratch wouldn't meet her gaze. It was Vinyl's turn to mumble and look away. So it became Octavia's turn to hold her muzzle in place and demand an answer.

Twin trails ran down the white unicorn's muzzle. Her chest heaved. She was the baddest bitch in Canterlot. Slayer of bitches and dropper of bass. Yet here she was, getting all choked up over some high class piece of ass. But that was the worst part. This was all she wanted in the world. Just to be here with her. To be held by her. To kiss her. To hear her say those fancy words that made her feel high. Vinyl Scratch couldn't even say the words. She just nodded.

Octavia grabbed Vinyl's head and pressed her lips as hard as she could against hers. Octavia was not a veteran kisser, but passion produced what experience lacked. Vinyl pushed her gently off. "Easy girl!" She massaged her muzzle with her hoof.

"Umm sorry I've uuhm." Octavia grew red for the umpteenth time. "I'm new at this."

Vinyl's eyes narrowed. "How new?" She said suspiciously.

"Well, when you kissed me the night we met. That was." She fiddled with her hooves. "My first kiss."

Vinyl's jaw metaphorically hit the floor. Her eyes went wide. She felt like she had done something bad. She disconnected and stared at the virgin pony. "H-h-h-how?" Octavia was about to ask what she meant when the unicorn's volume increased dramatically. "HOW THE FUCK HAS THE FINEST PIECE OF ASS IN EQUESTRIA NEVER GOTTEN LAID?!"

The virgin cellist went through several emotions very quickly. Annoyance at the volume, annoyance at the comment about her sexual prowess, a slight joy at being called fine, and a sense of exasperation that her first love was the kind of mare that put stock by that sort of thing. She grinned ironically.

"Well I guess it's because nopony is as fine as you." She said dripping with sarcasm, her head resting on her hoof. The unicorn just continued to stare at her, mouth agape. Octavia grew concerned. "Is something wrong?" She asked, dropping the ironical smile.

Vinyl wasn't sure how to proceed. For the life of her she couldn't remember her first time. As far as she knew she'd never been with a virgin. She looked at the mare stretched out on the bed waiting for her. The DJ realized all at once it was a first for her too. This was the first time she'd ever been in love. A knowing smile stretched across her face.

She moved back to the bed and started to kiss Octavia on the side of the neck moving up towards her face. The cellist's mind went blank and she arced her neck to make room for the attention. She closed her eyes and savoured every press of Vinyl's lips against her neck. The angle of which she held her head put her eyes in the path of the slits of light coming through the blinds.

A vague hazy thought noticed that the sun was higher in the sky than it had been. "That's odd." Octavia's hind brain thought. "The sun went backwards in the sky. That usually doesn't happen. Maybe this should concern us." Her forebrain wanted to just relax and let the DJ go about her work but it begrudgingly accepted the need for clarification.

She gently pulled away from her DJ and asked. "Umm Vinyl. What time is HA!" She moaned slightly as Vinyl gently pulled on the skin of her neck with her teeth. She rolled the cellist onto her back and started kissing her down her stomach.

For reasons she was unsure of, the unicorn decided to answer between kisses. "It's like. Fivish? You slept. All night. And all. Day."

This snapped Octavia out of her sensual daze. She pushed Vinyl off and stared at her blankly. "It's tomorrow?"

The door was practically bucked off of its hinges as the cellist burst through it, scaring the living bejesus out of her dorm mates in the living room. Vinyl was left hot and bothered on the bed by herself. This mare was going to be the death of her. She quickly got over the throbbing in her loins and chased after her mare.

The Sunday Spot (22/40)

The afternoon sun shone softly down on the side of Mount Neighverest. The two unicorns had decided to include their earth pony friend in their Sunday tradition. "Since you'll soon be murdered, we wanted to drink with you at least one more time." Wordsmith had joked. They sat in the warm grass in a pleasant park frequented by families, picknickers, and lovers alike. The two unicorns had spent every Sunday afternoon without fail there, splitting a six pack of cider between them, and enjoying the ambiance. They had to increase their six pack to a twelve pack to compensate for Haycartes' endless cider thirst.

Wordsmith prattled on in his thick Saddlesbury accent. "Yes apparently you stick your dick in one too many of the maids and suddenly you're a disgrace to the family. Not that it ever stopped dear old Dad. "Wordsmith chuckled mirthlessly.

"And yet you've not learned your lesson." Haycartes jibbed.

"Of course not. It gives me the freedom to drink with you fine fellows!" They toasted their bottles. Wordsmith sighed thoughtfully. "Anyways yes that's why I'm no longer the heir to the duchy. I don't mind though, Iron Hoof was always more interested in politics than I was. He'll make a great Duke of Saddlesbury." He sipped his drink solemnly in contemplation.

Haycartes decided to lighten the mood. "And what of you friend? How did you wind up with this one?"

Sawbones flushed slightly at the memories. "Oh we were practically raised together." He swirled his drink thoughtfully. "My father was the Duke's family physician. He pulled every Saddlesbury for the last three generations into this world. I guess I'm just following in his hoofsteps. I was always Smith's shadow. He'd get me in trouble, I'd get him out of trouble. He'd get caught peeping on the maids, I'd say we were playing hide and seek and he was just looking for me. "

"He never let me back down from a fight, always talking me into confronting my bullies." Sawbones chuckled to himself. "Or just provoke them into attacking anyway. He's always been there for me. For Celestia's sake he's the only reason I had the courage to apply to RCU's med school in the first place." He muttered to himself. "And the Duke's the only reason I got in."

Talking about his heritage always made Wordsmith thoughtful. While Sawbones was prattling on about some such silly nonsense, he had produced an expertly carved oaken long stemmed churchwarden pipe and had packed it with his favorite tobacco. Roané had watched this process with growing interest. When the unicorn lit it and puffed on the mouth piece he went spare.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" He shouted startling Sawbones out of his diatribe and Wordsmith choked on his smoke.

The smoker got his breath back and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Damn it all Cart, don't startle me like that. " He puffed on the pipe. "Don't you know?-" He stopped himself. "No of course you don't." He sighed and sadly shook his head. What had he gotten himself into.

He passed the pipe to Sawbones and explained the finer points of smoking while the medical student blew a series of smoke rings without using magic. He passed the pipe back to the poet who cheated using magic to shape the smoke into a phallus to fly through the rings.

Haycartes still didn't believe what he was hearing. "So you pay good bits to breathe in smoke? Why not just throw the bits into a fire and save yourself the trouble?" He sipped from his bottle testily.

"Smoking gives a wise pony something to ponder over, and a fool something to plug his mouth with," Wordsmith said, taking the pipe from Sawbones.

"And which are you?" Haycartes quipped, rolling his eyes. Wordsmith retorted to the quip by blowing a puff of smoke into his face. He expected to have to cough and have his eyes water, but instead he found himself enjoying the scent.

"That's the way." The pipe was levitated to Haycartes' mouth, then immediately brought back to Sawbones who wiped off the mouthpiece then returned it. He was still unsure but decided to trust his friends. He took a few puffs as Wordsmith had explained and found the sensation oddly pleasant. He exhaled slowly and was tantalized by the smoke trail. Wordsmith grinned widely. "There you see old colt. Here!" He presented him the thin black box he kept it in and a small pouch of tobacco. "Something to ponder over." He grinned.

Haycartes was once again touched by the generosity of the swaggering unicorn. "Or something to plug my mouth with."

The two unicorns sat up in surprise. "Did. . . Did you just make a joke Haycartes?" Sawbones asked incredulously.

"Yes. Did I do it right?" the fillysopher asked sheepishly.

Wordsmith nodded grinning. "It was alright. Though do be careful, self deprecatory humor is best used in small doses."

Sawbones laid back on the grass, his hooves behind his head. "My word, that mare certainly has been a positive influence on you I must say."

Wordsmith grinned. "Yes, the pony whom no song could break his invincible frown, no mare could warm, no drink could cheer, yet this mare even has you smiling like a drunken pony and even telling jokes. What is this world coming to." He thought for a second. "On that note old colt, how did you become." He gestured with his bottle in the general direction of his friend. "Like this?

Haycartes snorted, "Like what?" he croaked in his perpetually hard voice.

"Constantly sour faced, gravel voiced, serious, logical to a fault," Wordsmith said in poor imitation of his friend's hard voice.

Sawbones chimed in. "I had the delicacy not to ask, but I am genuinely curious about how you got all those scars. Don't think I didn't notice the lack of medical attention friend."

"Yes you've heard our histories, now out with it. How does one become Roané Haycartes?" The two shifted to look at the earth pony.

Haycartes took a long draw on the pipe and thought about his history. "Well to answer your question Sawbones, I never received medical attention because I could never afford it."

The two unicorns' faces went blank, and it took Sawbones a moment to ask. "Uuuum why didn't your PARENTS pay for it. . . "

"They weren't around." The unicorns' eyes snapped open with shock. Haycartes went on. "Apropos that's why my voice sounds like this. I sat up for three days waiting for them to come home crying, and it hurt my throat." The bottle Wordsmith was drinking fell limply out of his magic and tears stood in the corners of Sawbones' eyes. As for my logical demeanor let's see." He puffed out a small cloud of smoke with thought. Wordsmith raised a hoof trying to get a word in edgewise, but Haycartes went on. "I suppose that's because I read mostly non fiction at the library where I spent most of my time. It was free and they had working bathrooms and climate control.

"Umm," Sawbones squeaked out, desperate for him to stop so they could process what they were hearing.

"Which segways nicely into how I got most of these scars. You see my parent's house is right in the middle of the industrial sector of Canterlot, and there's no way to the library that wasn't beset by gangs of violent ponies. So no matter which way I went I'd have to either fight or flee, and as you can see," he said gesturing to his scars, "they sometimes got the best of me."

Wordsmith remembered the blow he'd witnessed his friend take at the bar and now it made sense to him. He felt a nausea of the soul creeping upon him as Haycartes spoke. "Oh and I had to find whatever scraps of work I could to support myself so if it paid well then the work was almost always difficult or dangerous," he said remembering the generous ponies that had given him whatever bits they could spare to help him on his way. He felt like he should visit them. "Hence the discoloured mane and tail. The unicorns' eyes were nearly starting out of their heads at this point. They'd both taken his mane and tail for silver. It only now occurred to them that it was actually prematurely grey.

"Oh, and as for my facial expression, that's actually from.~"

Finally Wordsmith could stand it no longer. "STOP. STOOOP! For the love of Celestia cease this outpouring of unequalled woe before I throw myself, or you, off of the western balcony!" He plopped down panting on the grass, searching desperately for another drink.

Sawbones put a hoof on Haycarte's shoulder. "Cart I'm so sorry! Why did no Royal institution take you in? There are systems in place to care for orphan ponies, how did none of them find you?"

"I didn't know about such organizations until I was too old to qualify." Haycartes said nonchalantly.

"And nopony at the library noticed a foal by itself every single day for," Wordsmith had to think for a moment. "Dare I ask how many years?"

"Twelve." The earth pony said, still not a single care expressed in his tone.

Both unicorns mouthed the word twelve to themselves. Wordsmith ground his teeth as he seethed, "So I am to understand that you have been on your own since you were. . . Were." He couldn't even finish the question for anger.

"Five yes. The ponies at the library never questioned a colt who was behaving himself and returned his borrowed books on ti~"

"STOP IT CART! STOP IT RIGHT NOW!" Sawbones screamed.

Haycartes was taken aback by the emotion he was eliciting from his friends. "How have I offended you?"

Wordsmith spluttered in disbelief at what he was hearing. "How did?~ Cart you just said you've been all alone since you were five years old. WHY AREN'T YOU OFFENDED?!" he barked.

Haycartes raised an eyebrow. "Why would I be?

Both unicorns facehoofed hard. Because of course he wouldn't. Of course Haycartes wouldn't understand being abandoned should bother him. Because it's Roané Haycartes. Sawbones tried to reason with the fillysopher. "Because it should fucking bother you! How can you just sit there and tell us these horrible things and not show the slightest emotion in the subject?! Fuck!" he shouted, turning sharply away from his friend.

"Because there's nothing one could do about it now." Haycartes said almost uncaringly

"No!" Wordsmith growled. "There is something one can do. We should find your parents and make them face justice for what they did to you!"

"That wouldn't be justice, that would be vengeance." Haycartes said, this time finally gaining a serious note.

Wordsmith spluttered, "AND?! My colt I think you deserve a great deal of both!"

"Would that change present duty, or repair past transgression? It would neither take back the years of discomfort, nor would it change anything in my life now. I would still attend R.C.U., I would still be in love with Picturesque," he wrapped his forelegs around the necks of his friends, "and I would still drink with my friends."

The two unicorns stood hearts pierced by the sentiment. They were aghast at the manipulative skill of the fillysopher. He had turned outrage and tragedy, into the most sentimental thing either had ever heard. Wordsmith couldn't help but wipe a tear from his eye. "That was the single most manipulative display I have ever witnessed. I'm a bad influence on you old colt." He hugged Haycartes tight.

Roané couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes did I do it right."

Sawbones joined in the hug. "Spot on Cart." He sniffled. "Spot on."

The two stood there hugging their friend for slightly longer than was comfortable. "Thank you friends, now please let go of me."

"Nope," Sawbones said, not breaking the embrace.

"You made us cry, so this is your punishment." Wordsmith said squeezing tighter. Haycartes gave a resigned sigh.

He still had a lot to learn.

(23/40) THE baddest bitch in Equestria

Octavia was galloping full speed down the sidewalk, her cello bouncing against her back. Vinyl rolled up in a hired taxi. "Yo babe where the fuck you.-"

She was cut off by Octavia leaping in and screaming. "THE FILLYHARMONIC! GO!" The taxi was off like a shot. The cellist panted like a sprinter.

She finally had a second to breathe and Vinyl tried to calm her down. "Babe chill! What time you gotta be there?" She asked rubbing her mare on the back.

Octavia gasped for breath. "I'm supposed to be there at five thirty and if I'm late I'll lose my chair, and if I lose my chair I can't pay for school and.-"

She was cut off by Vinyl putting a hoof over her mouth. "Alright! I get it! Sorry I asked." She looked out the window at the taxis growing ever closer. She pulled her phone from her mane and cringed at the time. She leaned forward in the taxi. "Eh Bro! Whatever you do, don't stop running. You go straight to the place. Don't slow down. Got it?" She didn't give him time to object as she scrambled onto the roof of the carriage. "Okay PON-3. Bae needs you right now. Try to not die."

Her horn flared and every taxi and pedestrian in front of her was raised ten feet in the air as they passed under then then put down again less than gently. All cross streets traffic found themselves going over invisible magical bridges. Octavia looked about and saw what was happening and couldn't believe her mare had that much raw telekinetic power. Vinyl on the other hoof was suffering. She DIDN'T have that much raw telekinetic power, she was over exerting herself to no end. But bae gets what bae needs damnit.

They tore through the streets of Canterlot and arrived at the Royal Canterlot Fillyharmonic. Vinyl saw through eyes squinting with pain that there were four carriages sitting evenly spaced against the curb. "AAAH FUCK YOU GET OUTTA MY WAY!" With the last of her magic she rolled their wheels until they were bumper to bumper and lifted the whole carriage, driver and all, into the space created.

She collapsed against the roof of the carriage panting heavily, occasionally choking back retches. She limply pulled out her phone. Five twenty nine p.m. "Nice." She felt an ache in her head, and every muscle felt like it had ruptured, but they'd made it.

Octavia popped up grabbing the unicorn, picking her bodily up from the roof of the carriage and kissing her hard. "THANKYOUILOVEYOU!" She dropped her unceremoniously onto the ground and galloped off with her cello into the building.

The cellist had learned the layout of the building like the back of her hoof. She ran in through a side door to avoid being seen. She'd planned to slip in through the back and take her place in the orchestra, but instead of avoiding everypony, she ran right into a crowd of ponies standing around, concern written on every face.

They were standing around Lord Fortissimo court composer to the princess herself, dressing down a terrified yellow unicorn who was hyperventilating and hiding under his hooves. "YOU'RRRE GOING TO GO OUT THERRRE AND PLAY THE IMPRRROVISATION, ORRR YOU WILL LOSE YOURRR." Despite his massive lung capacity, even he had to inhale sometime. "SITUATION!"

"But m-m-my Lord." He could barely think for terror. "I-i-i've never done an improvisation. I just don't know how." There were tears standing in his eyes.

"THE SECOND CHAIRRR VIOLINIST IN THE HIGHEST ORCHESTRRRA LAND." He sputtered in rage. "AND YOU'VE NEVERRR PERRRFORMED AN IMPROVISATION?! WELL CLEARRRLY I'LL NEED TO RRREPLACE TWO VIOLINISTS INSTEAD OF ONE! GET UP YOU SNIVELING-" He tried to tear the violinist onto his hooves with a foreleg, but the terrified unicorn galloped away.

He got all the way to the door before Lord Fortissimo's magical glow caught his back legs and he was dragged back clawing at the floor as he was dragged.

Octavia sidled up to the second chair cellist and whispered. "Whatever is the matter with him?"

The other cellist whispered. " The improvisatori got hurt in a cart accident so now he has to play the improvisation, but he doesn't know how." His tone seemed rudely unconcerned.

Octavia decided to ignore his lack of empathy. "Uum my Lord Fortissimo? I know how to improvise and I happen to know the first chair violinist part. If you'd allow I could-"

The Conductor's head snapped around and his eyes blazed at the cellist. "Who darrres to.-" His eyes locked onto Octavia. "OOOH NOT YOU." He rolled his eyes. "I suppose you also happen to play every other instrument in the orchestra as well?"

The earth pony wasn't deterred by her boss's rudeness. "No but I know the piece on the cello and I can.-"

"ON THE CELLO?!" He spluttered again. "THE PRRRRRINCESS HERRRSELF WILL BE IN ATTENDANCE AND YOU DARRRRE TO INSULT THIS PIECE BY RRRRREPLACING A VIOLIN WITH A CELLO?!"

"Yes I can just transcribe the." But Lord Fortissimo wasn't listening he went back to shouting at the poor violinist.

Outside in the pavement Vinyl grinned through the pain. "Worth it." She propped herself up against the side of the carriage and breathed heavily. "I am definitely. Gonna hit. That classy. Hurk. Bitch."

The carriage driver sitting next to her said "Nice" through labored breathing.

Vinyl was too tired to jump at the realization that the driver had collapsed next to her on the ground. She had forgotten all about the poor pony who'd just galloped the entire length of Canterlot in less than thirty minutes. She achingly, with every muscle screaming, presented her hoof for him to brohoof. He did and the two dropped their forelegs limply after.

"Ey! Good. Job. Hurk. You deserve somethin nice. Hurk. For that." She fished a business card, that Neon had insisted on printing out for her, out of her mane. " Take this to Mad. Hurk. Mares. Ask for Roy. Hurk." She gasped for breath. "Say PON-3 says 'full ride'. Hurk. See if he can't find you a couple of. Hurk. Party freaks."

The driver's eyes went wide and he sprang to his hooves, all exhaustion forgotten. He put the business card into his tip box and galloped off. He'd just made fifty bits and now this crazy unicorn was getting him laid. It was a very good day for him. He galloped off in the direction of Mad Mares and didn't even say thank you in his haste.

Vinyl flopped languidly backwards onto the pavement when the carriage she'd been leaning against sped away. She got the back of her head against the ground eliciting a small. "dick!"

She knew she couldn't just lay in the road with carriages and taxis pulling up constantly so she pumped herself up for the task ahead. "Okay. Come on PON-3. You've been in. Hurk. Worse spots before." She creakily, slowly, agonizingly got onto all four legs. "Don't die before you see bae play." She trudged heavily to the door. She chanted "I'm. Gonna. Hit. That. Classy. Bitch." With every step just to keep herself moving.

The journey got easier as she went. She slipped in through a door that a posh looking pony had just exited. She was too exhausted to take in the lavish lobby, with its marble columns and expertly painted ceiling. She just focused on the floor immediately in front of her and seeing her bae play. That's all that existed right now. Must. See. Bae. Play.

She got to a velvet rope and a very oddly decorated wall with a pony's head sticking out of it. The head spoke. "Seating doesn't begin for another half hour ma'am." Vinyl's exhausted brain took slightly longer than was appropriate to register. She looked at him like one looks at somepony they recognize but can't place.

"Holy shit you're a dude!" She said half dazed by the realization. The towering ticket pony said nothing choosing instead to stare straight ahead ignoring her. She backed up further to see that in fact yes. It was just a very large, broad shouldered earth pony.

Her aching mind slowly started to work again, the overexertion starting to settle. She didn't have a ticket, and who would take her word that she was with Octavia. She certainly wouldn't have. She didn't have any more bits with her either, as she'd just thrown a pile she hadn't bothered to count at the first taxi available.

She trudged towards a bench to try to puzzle this out when a side door labelled "Authorized Access Only" burst open in front of her and a terrified yellow unicorn with a violin bow for a cutie mark ran out then was immediately dragged screaming back in by a magical glow. This would've concerned her in her normal state of mind but right now all it did was solve her problem. "Hey a way in. Cool." The overexertion was giving way to giddiness.

She trudged down the dark corridor and saw the most beautiful thing she'd ever witnessed. Her mare. "But what's this?" She thought to herself. "Who's that fatass yelling at bae. NoPoNy YeLlS aT BaE!" She muttered to herself in her stupor. The overweight green unicorn went back to yelling at the cowering yellow pegasus. Vinyl stumbled up and threw her hooves around Octavia. Half out of love and half for support. "BABYYYY!"

Octavia was mortified, she looked around in a panic but her colleagues were too busy looking at Lord Arpeggio Fortissimo, titles titles titles, dressing down a violinist for not being able to do something he'd never been trained to do, poor pony. She carried her stupified mare over to a bench and sat her down. She hissed. "Vinyl what in Equestria are you doing here?"

The DJ stared dumbly for a few seconds, her brain having to catch up to her ears. "You don't seem that happy to see me." She slurred, grinning as if drunk. Octavia rolled her eyes and gave her a quick peck. "That's bett- OH! I remember." She grabbed Octavia's head. "No ticket."

Octavia facehoofed. In their haste she had completely forgotten to register Vinyl as a guest. She'd planned on doing so yesterday but then had apparently passed out for about twenty three hours. "Well it may be a mood point now." She plopped down dejectedly next to her mare.

"Whas wrong?" Vinyl said as she let her head slip into Octavia's lap.

Octavia stroked her mane, no longer embarrassed at the gallant unicorn who'd overexerted herself just to get her to work on time. "Oh the first chair violinist got hurt in a carriage accident, and the second chair violinist isn't an improvisatori."

Vinyl vaguely thought." Oh shit. Did I do that?"

"I offered to play the part in a higher register, but Lord Fortissimo positively refuses." Her voice grew slightly strained as if holding back tears of frustration. "And now the whole performance might be cancelled."

Vinyl's head popped off of Octavia's lap. She was instantly on her hooves, her exhaustion forgotten. She didn't almost kill herself lifting half of Canterlot with her horn just for this fatass to tell her bae not to play. Bae fuckin gets what bae fuckin WANTS!

She marched right up to the overweight unicorn and grabbed him by the horn with her hoof. Before anypony could stop her she dragged him into a broom closet and shut the door. She clicked on the small pull light and Lord Fortissimo, titles titles titles, could feel her breath on his muzzle as she spoke. "What's my name?" She said in her most intimidating growl.

Lord Fortissimo taken off guard by the whole scene could only stammer. "W-w-what I don't.-"

"Exactly! You don't know me. But I know you, and where you work. Now if Octavia doesn't play tonight, I'mma introduce you to a coupla big pipe hittin motherfuckers, and y'all are gonna get REEEAL acquainted if you know what I mean." She lifted her sunglasses and he got a full view of her eyes, still bloodshot from overexertion, bloody red without and hellish red irises, overflowing with hate and malice. They didn't call her the baddest bitch in Canterlot for nothing. She shook his horn as she snarled. "GOT IT?"

Lord Arpeggio Fortissimo, titles titles titles, was more scared than he'd ever been in his life. He tried to answer but he was too terrified to speak. He could only gulp and nodded intensely.

Vinyl grinned and released the cowering unicorn. In a voice purring with malice. "Good now go tell er."

She opened the door and he scuttled out. He galloped out breathlessly straight to Octavia and asked. "And you'rrrre surrrrre you can play the violin part yes?" He looked back at the broom closet still open but the light turned off. He saw the smallest glimmer of crimson shining out of it and he whimpered. "PLEASE TELL ME YOU CAN PLA-HAY-HAY IH-HIT!" Without another word Octavia grabbed her cello and slid her hoof way up the A string. She played several notes many were astonished to see coming out of an instrument so large. "Good then you play the improvisation." He said looking back at the closet. The door was closed. "Good that's settled then." He scampered off to the concert hall.

Octavia stood dumbfounded, unsure of what had just happened. She felt a kiss on her cheek and sprang away in surprise. "VINYL!" She got a hold of herself. "What did you just do."

Vinyl stared straight at Octavia from behind her sunglasses. She spoke in a hard low voice. "Bae gets. What bae wants." Vinyl's little conversation had drained the last of her will power and she slumped against her mare.

"Vinyl! Vinyl are you alright?" She shook her mare who had just done everything in her power to make sure she was happy. The DJ wasn't responding.

Octavia was about to call out for help when the second chair violinist sidled up sheepishly. "Uum May I." He asked in his timid creaky Alto. The cellist wasn't entirely sure what he meant but she held the limp unicorn out to him. His horn glowed softly and he ever so gently touched the tip of his horn to the tip of Vinyl's. His horn's glow dimmed and her's started to pulsate with her own blue magic.

Vinyl groaned and pushed away the assisting violinist. "Five more minutes." She mumbled and rolled against her mare. Octavia had tears of relief in her eyes.

The violinist stood up and smiled. "I thought so. Don't worry Octavia she was just a little tired. I just gave her a small boost." Octavia hugged him around the neck thanking him dearly. He blushed at the display. "Well I owe you for saving me from Fortissimo. I can't improvise to save my life. You're really doing us all a huge favor Octavia. Thank you." He bowed and went to go find his chair in the orchestra.

Vinyl was carried on Octavia's back to a seat front and center. She was conscious but still exhausted. Octavia kissed her horn and rubbed her cheek against her head. "You've done so much for me Vinyl. I just hope I can make it worth your while." She leaned in close and whispered. "I love you." The smallest little glowing red heart appeared out of Vinyl's horn and Octavia grinned widely. She went to take her place in the orchestra.

Vinyl sat limply in her chair phasing in and out of consciousness. Eventually the other seats filled and the concert hall filled with a gentle roar of personal conversation. Lord Arpeggio Fortissimo, titles titles titles, came out and, in a voice that scraped against Vinyl's mind, called out. "Ladies and Gentlecolts, please welcome our revered guest Princess Celestia."

That got Vinyl's attention. She sat upright in her chair and looked around. Everypony was cheering loudly and looking up at a point high up on the wall. She saw several little balconies jutting out of the walls and in the one closest to the stage was emblazoned the royal solar crest. Her eyes went wide, there she was, tall as life, mane and tail waving like a shimmering Arora, smiling regally and waving a hoof, was the princess.

Vinyl suddenly got very nervous. "Why the fuck is the princess here?" She muttered to herself. "Well it is the Royal Canterlot Filly whatchamacallit. My bae's boss is the fucking princess. " Vinyl rubbed her aching temples. What had she gotten herself into.

The music started and the limp unicorn shifted to get comfortable in her seat. She'd always loathed classical music when recorded, but live it had a weirdly pleasant quality about it. She noticed her ear swaying to the movements of the music like a conductor's baton. Then it happened the rest of the orchestra grew quieter and the cello sang out high above the rest.

Octavia was playing choked all the way up on the fret board, playing a part written for a much smaller instrument with a practiced ease that stunned the DJ. She sat upright in awe as Octavia pulled the music out of the large wooden box. It was the most magical thing Vinyl had ever seen. She could hardly believe just wires and a wooden box were able to produce such a sound.

Octavia as we have seen could play cello all but literally in her sleep. She noticed that her mare was staring mouth agape and had to fight to keep a grin off her face. She sawed away through the movements and the symphony moved from bright cheery upbeat tones, to slow lazy sleepy sounds, to jubilant festive measures.

Then came the final movement. It built slowly, and pensively, then burst into intense fast sawing away at the strings. It was the most beautiful thing Vinyl had ever heard. She leaned forward in her seat in awe at what she was hearing. Tears streamed down her face at what the music made her feel. She wept openly not caring who saw.

The posh ponies in the audience had all heard this piece dozens of times but ponies are an impressionable lot, herd mentality and all. Vinyl's weeping eventually got the whole concert hall in tears. Even the princess herself, who'd been at the premier of this piece hundreds of years ago had to wipe a stray tear from her regal eye.

Octavia, consummate professional that she was, couldn't help but staring at the effect the music was having on her mare. She was caught in the limbo of wanting to stop so she'd stop crying, but wanting to play all the more for her mare, and then came the improvisation.

The rest of the world melted away. She didn't care that the princess herself and the most elite of Canterlot were watching. This was just for her Vinyl. The mare she loved, the mare that loved her, the mare that had lifted half of Canterlot out of her way to get her there. Nothing else in the universe existed but the two mares, and her music.

Finally she pulled the last notes out of the cello, and the symphony ended. Everypony was on their hooves cheering and stomping harder than they ever had. The princess herself nodded to a servant who darted off to speak to Lord Forte. He was told that the princess had requested she play at the Grand galloping gala later that year. He grinned widely and waddled off to tell her the good news.

Octavia had to stop for a moment, to calm herself down. Her hooves shook as she placed her cello in its case. Ponies had always enjoyed her performances, but she'd never moved a pony to tears. She took a moment to ponder her sweet sweet Vinyl. She'd not only lifted all of Canterlot out of her way so she could pass, but didn't let anypony dare to stop her from playing, and then wept at her performance. The cellist couldn't believe her luck at meeting such a wonderful mare.

She was knocked out of her reflections, and off of her hooves respectively, by Vinyl tackling her to the ground and grinding her muzzle as hard as she could against the cellist's. Small moans escaped her as she squeezed the cellist tight. The DJ had never experienced this emotion before. She was desperate to love this pony in her hooves as hard as she possibly could.

"Lord Fortissimo came around the corner grinning widely. "Aah Octavia! What an ex.-" He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw those same hellish eyes glaring at him. They seemed to say very clearly. "If you stop me I will literally actually murder you." He walked backwards around the corner in silence.

Octavia had to pry her face away from the amorous assault. "Vinyl! VINYL! Calm down. I need to.-"

"We need. To get. Home. Now." Vinyl gasped between kisses. She looked dreamily at her lover with her crimson eyes glazed over with desire. She could only breathe the word "Please." Octavia quickly decided whatever business she had could fucking wait.

24/40 Your language sucks but I love you

Grasping Hoof, Dean of Royal Canterlot University, the most prestigious University on the planet, ground his teeth. The entire intellectual world of Equestria hung on a shake of his head. Professor's careers rose and fell at his behest. With a stamp of his cutie mark he could fund exploratory expeditions, or stop a line of research he didn't like in its tracks. In short he was a very powerful pony.

So it was very jarring to him when he was impotent to reclaim his single most prized possession. The only pony it could really be said he loved. His terrible current wife was overdue to be replaced. His terrible parents, he had dumped in the cheapest old ponies home he could find, then made a pretty profit on the sale of their house.

"BUT THAT DAMNED ROANÉ HAYCARTES." He had nothing! Nothing to be threatened with. The Dean could expel him and he knew the very odd pony wouldn't care. He'd continue to come see his precious Picturesque whenever he could. He had no parents to threaten. The pony had been effectively homeless before coming to University, and he couldn't intimidate him. The pony was just not afraid of him. The only thing in the world Roané Haycarte had was the Dean's little filly. It was a madhouse!

He couldn't tell his dear darling daughter to stop seeing him. She was the happiest he'd ever seen her. She would flutter about the house singing to herself, and the whole carriage ride home she'd just sigh dreamily to herself. That demon occupied every waking thought of hers and it drove Grasping Hoof to a frothing rage.

He was so angry that he was actually, Celestia forbid, doing his own paperwork. He needed something, anything to take his focus off of this conundrum. He found the letter from his ex wife that came every year. The same travel arrangements for Picturesque, the pleas that she be educated in Prançe that he always ignored.

He tossed it into the trash but a thought struck him. He pulled the note out of the trash and stared at it. A malicious grin split his face. A flurry of levitating papers filled the air. Travel orders, moving instructions, college admission forms. He had his angle. A cruel chuckle escaped his mouth. "But of course she should be educated in Prance. FAR AWAY FROM HIM!"

In the large yard of the Dean's country home, a pleasant day trip away from Canterlot, the two young lovers sat side by side enjoying the warm spring sun and the gentle breeze. They said little rather enjoying basking in each other's presence.

Roané Haycarte still couldn't look her in the eye but his speech had now relaxed into almost his normal tones, but softened considerably by the calming effect the mare had on him. When they were together things didn't bother him as much. A foal's foaly was his own tragedy, not a plague on the nation. The only problem he had when he was with her was the constant soreness. The muscles in his face weren't used to smiling so he was in constant discomfort, but Picturesque kissed it all better so he didn't mind.

"Well when summer comes you simply must come with us to Gaconeigh. I just hope mon pére would consent to bring you. Mon mére would simply adore your constant frown." She said playfully pulling at his cheek with her hoof. She snapped to her hooves. "Oooh and I would be your translator so you and mon mére could speak without trouble!" She pranced giddily in place.

"I understand Prench." The earth pony said matter of factly. The prancing pegasus stopped in mid prance hanging in air for a second or two.

"Toi mon amour? Tu parles Prançais? She asked incredulously.

"I had to learn it to read the fillysophy of Roanspierre and Maretesque." The fillysopher said no hint of pride or vanity in his accomplishment. In his mind it was just something you did. If you want to read a book in another language you just learned that other language.

"Mon amour alors pourquoi tu ne me parles jamais dans ma langue maternelle?" Picturesque pouted.

Haycarte knew he was in trouble, it was not in his nature to lie, especially to the mare he loved. "Because it is a barbaric, convoluted nasally language and I prefer not to use it."

Picturesque was horrified that the stallion who said such sweet things to her, or at least where she could hear, could utter such a blasphemy. She'd never had anypony tell her something she didn't like so it was a very new experience having to argue. Much less be mad about something. "Comment oses-tu! La langue de Prançe est la langue des amoureux et des poètes, de la passion et des grands penseurs!"

"That's all well and good for them but the language is still unpleasant to the ear, needlessly convoluted in its spelling, and it's numbering system is beyond irrational."

"NOTRE SYSTÈME DE NUMÉROTATION EST JUSTE FIN!" She looked away knowing she was lying.

Haycartes looked at the back of the head of the pegasus from Prançe. "Say ninety seven."

Picturesque mumbled "quatre-vingt-dix-sept."

She could feel him lean in as he said. "My love." She wouldn't look at him. "Does it make ANY SENSE to have to say four different numbers to say one number." The pegasus sprang to her hooves. She sputtered angrily trying desperately to think of a defense of her mother tongue but Haycartes didn't let up. "Spell the word queue."

The pegasus groaned loudly and stomped a hoof. "Qu'est-ce que cela a à voir avec quoi que ce soit?" She felt his stare on the back of her head. She sighed and angrily muttered. "Q-U-E-U-E"

"Now my love, Equestrian common has a character that makes that sound. It's called Q, we have several words that are one character long, such as A and I. Why should we have to spell five letters to say a word that's said by one letter? Your language, by its mere existence, and its perverse influence, has poisoned the common speech!"

Picturesque got muzzle to muzzle with Haycartes. "Eh bien, si cela vous déplaît, pourquoi vous embêtez-vous à me parler alors?" She waited for a response. She noticed Haycartes eyes were out of focus, which was the tell tale sign he couldn't speak. She rolled her eyes hard and stepped out of his line of sight.

Haycartes thought back to all of his conversations with Wordsmith. They had come to the conclusion that it's not lying to speak the truth in a flattering way. He decided to give it a try. "Because it is the language in which you say you love me. You are the only pony from whom Prench sounds beautiful. When you speak it the world becomes a more beautiful place. When I speak it the language in which you say you love me is disrespected. Therefore I crave hearing it just so I can hear say you love me." It was a good try.

Picturesque blushed hard. She still wasn't satisfied, but resumed her place at her stallion's side pouting. The sweetness of the complement mollified the outrage of the insult to her native language. "Très bien. Tu as tort mais j'accepte tes sentiments parce que je t'aime. Et on ne dit pas 'Prench'." She spat the word distastefully. "On dit de Prançe ou de Prançe." She gave his aching cheek a small peck.

"Very well then." The fillysopher said, relieved the matter had passed so painlessly. She'd just had her first argument, and Haycartes couldn't be prouder.

25/40 your music sucks but I love you

Vinyl had thoroughly enjoyed the show. She wouldn't let go of Octavia's face the entire taxi ride home. She was overpowered by a desire that had nothing to do with sex. She couldn't seem to hold her mare tight enough, kiss her hard enough, need her badly enough. She felt like a filly with her first crush. She was totally, and utterly star struck, she felt like she was making out with a celebrity. The two mares ate each other's faces the entire taxi ride home, the driver tried his best not to stare.

The carriage arrived at the large apartment building Vinyl had moaned out between kisses. "Uuuhm Vinyl?" The cellist had to push the amorous unicorn off, her eyes were glazed over and she wasn't listening. Vinyl let out a small whine, and tried to reconnect the kiss. The cellist finally had to step fully away from the onslaught of affection and shout. "VINYL! Pay the pony please."

The DJ looked dumbly between the cellist and the driver. Finally she came back to herself, "Oh yeah, hol on." She tilted her head in token that Octavia should follow and she led her to room 420.

"The same as my dorm." Octavia thought to herself. The door was magically unlocked and Vinyl snatched a few bits from a drawer. Octavia wanted to look about but she was interrupted by Vinyl pushing her against the wall and kissing her deeply. Octavia wanted to just sink into her mare, but the idea of the taxi driver sitting there waiting to be paid killed the mood. "VINYL!" She shouted in between kisses. She grabbed her mare's face. "Go pay the driver." Vinyl pouted, and stuck out her lower lip, pleading not to have to stop. Octavia kissed Vinyl's horn. "Go and hurry back okay?" Octavia crooned, lifting the mares muzzle with her hoof.

The unicorn's horn let out a small spark and she groaned loudly. "RAAAA! TWELVE SECONDS! " She stole another kiss and bolted down the hall. Octavia took a moment to steady herself. She couldn't help but chuckle, she had to admit she really enjoyed having an adoring fan. Vinyl charged back up the stairs and slammed the door behind her leaning against it heavily. "Gah fucking finally."

Octavia looked around the oddly sizeable apartment. It had a full sound studio, full bar, large couch. It looked like a small club in its own right. "It's a rather lovely apartment." Octavia said, hoping to get the complement out before her mind went blank again. "It's very clean."

"Heh heh yeah how bout that." The DJ said surreptitiously sliding the table in front of the seven bags of trash she'd not yet taken out. "Yeah, contract's bringing down big bits so I can have a nice place to bring my classy music star to." She reconnected the kiss as they settled onto the couch.

The two kissed gently just enjoying each other's attention until Vinyl started kissing Octavia on the neck. The cellist let out a small moan and the DJ finally remembered. "Oh yeah! Sex is a thing." A mischievous grin split the DJ's face. She got on top of her mare and stared deeply into her lover's eyes. Octavia wasn't ready for a dose this large and she went limp.

The unicorn's horn flared and a deep pounding beat rattled through the apartment. "Oh no. Not now. NOT HERE!" Octavia's mind screamed as her body relaxed into her mare's attention. Vinyl kissed her neck and down her stomach in time with the rhythm. The cellist wanted to relax and enjoy her lover's ministrations but the screeching from the large speakers was simply insufferable.

Vinyl looked up into Octavia's face and winked with her tongue stuck out mischievously. She started leaning down towards the cellist's marehood. Then the bass dropped. Vinyl tasted nothing but couch. Her eyes snapped open and she saw the pony she loved standing across the room her hoof on her laptop. The silence in the apartment was deafening.

"I'm sorry, it's distracting." The cellist said flatly.

The unicorn couldn't believe what had just happened. The pony that had just made her weep for joy, and gotten her all hot and bothered for a week straight, had just assassinated the mood. What's worse she was talking shit about the DJ's music. "Scuse the fuck out of you? That track is sex in a sound file!" The DJ snapped.

"Well I'm sorry but it's just not my cup of tea." The cellist said, presenting her nose to the ceiling.

"Well sorry everything can't be a simp pony babe. Sorry some of us like to have to have FUN with their music."

"Well at least a SYMPHONY." Octavia put extra emphasis on the pronunciation. "Has more technical excellence than a train going over a cliff!"

Vinyl glared and ground her teeth. This conversation really drove home to the DJ just how much she loved this mare. Anypony else talks shit about her music, they'll never walk again, but this mare had just touched her in a way she'd never been touched. She'd even made her use the L word. No, this would require something else.

This bitch had to see why she was wrong. PON-3 would have to use that one thing. Words, no that other thing. Celestia forbid, she'd have to use math. Vinyl's horn flared and Octavia was lifted bodily onto the couch. "You callin my shit basic? Lemme fuckin show you somethin." She trotted across the room and sat down in her computer chair.

A flurry of activity was visible on the screen. Vinyl worked like a mad mare, and Octavia started to calm down. How had this happened? All she'd wanted to do was change the music to something less terribly unpleasant. Now she'd just insulted the life's work of the mare that had just let nothing in Equestria stop her from performing. She was trying to find an angle from which to approach an apology when she heard Vinyl's low growl. "Now cummere."

Octavia was once again lifted bodily off the couch and planted in the computer chair. "See this? This is one upper warble." She moved the cursor with her magic over to a green line on the screen. "And this TEEENSY TINY LITTLE LINE, is your sound. " She clicked on a red line and one cello note rang out.

"All this shit is what it takes to make one second of my music." She pulled down a menu with a thousand little codes implying edits to the sound in question. "And this is one second of your music." The line was barely visible. Octavia's face went blank. She wasn't sold on her lover's music, but she was honestly staggered at the amount of work that went into each and every piece of music that sounded like a train going over a cliff.

"This is what it takes to make one of my songs." The list was staggering. "This is your whole performance." She clicked on the green line and the fourth movement of the piece Octavia had just played resounded through the room. Vinyl went on explaining but Octavia was dumbfounded at the accuracy of the reproduction. Did she make this, or did she have it preloaded?

"Vinyl how did you do that?" The cellist asked, intensely listening to the music for any error.

Vinyl grinned thinking she'd won. "See babe. I told you. 'N that's just the start don't get me started.-" Octavia wasn't listening to the preening mare. She was still searching for any deviation. Then it hit her. The improvisation started. It was a perfect recreation of the one she'd just performed. A piece of music that had never existed and would never exist again. Vinyl hadn't downloaded this music then edited it. No she'd recreated a piece made up on the spot perfectly from memory.

Vinyl stopped her self praise when she noticed two lines running down opposite sides of Octavia's muzzle. Maybe she'd taken it too far. Classical music was her life after all. She started to apologize. "Babe it's o-" She was interrupted by her mare tackling her to the floor. Now it was Octavia's turn to be star struck.

Octavia violently drove her muzzle into the other mare's. Vinyl eventually had to pry the amorous cellist off of her with her magic. "Damn girl. I know I'm good but save some for later." She started the music up again, but Octavia stopped it once more, tears still streaming.

"Vinyl don't you see what you've just done?" She asked, wiping her muzzle.

The DJ raised an eyebrow. "Uuum made you horny?"

"What? No! Well I mean yes but." Octavia rolled her eyes and awkwardly pressed on her song again. "This! This piece of music. How did you do that?"

Vinyl shrugged. "The program has pre loaded sounds and you.-"

The cellist grabbed her mare's face. "No this! How did you do this? That was an improvisation. I made that up on the spot. How did you remember that note for note?"

The DJ shook her head. "I dunno. I just did it."

Octavia pulled Vinyl into a hug. "Vinyl, don't you get it, you're a genius."

Vinyl's face went blank. She'd been called a lot of things, but nopony, NOPONY, had ever called her smart. She could only stammer a response. "I mean uhhm. I'm not a. A"

Octavia grabbed her head and kissed her deeply again. She looked her hard in the eye. "Vinyl Scratch. I am the first chair cellist in the Royal Canterlot Fillyharmonic. I play alongside the most elite musicians on the planet. Not one of them could do what you just did. I COULDN'T do what you just did!" She kissed her again and looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing in existence. "You are without a doubt the finest musician in Equestria.

This was too much for Vinyl Scratch to handle. The mare who had brought her to tears with her music had just called her the best musician in Equestria. Her. Vinyl Scratch. The pony who for the longest time couldn't find a gig. She didn't play an instrument. She couldn't read music. She didn't work for the princess. Yet the pony who could and did all of those things just called her, Vinyl Scratch, her better.

Vinyl's brain decided that something was clearly wrong with the universe. Things like this just didn't happen. It remembered the magical exhaustion from earlier and decided that she needed to be rebooted. Her brain unplugged and plugged itself back in. Vinyl collapsed to the floor unconscious.

She woke with the bright sunlight coming in through her window. "Who the fuck opened the blinds." She muttered grumpily to herself. She rolled over and tried to go back to sleep but a wall of memory hit her. Her head popped off the pillow as she shouted. "OCTAVIA!" She looked around but her mare wasn't there to greet her. She got up and looked all throughout the apartment. She was nowhere to be found.

Vinyl wondered if she hadn't dreamed the events of yesterday when she found a note under her sunglasses. It was written on a hayburger wrapper. "My love, I waited for you to wake up but I have class. I'm so sorry to have to leave but I'll see you tonight at seven for your show. I love you, Octavia."

Vinyl held the note to her heart not caring that a little mustard got on her coat. She grinned stupidly and rocked back and forth for a few minutes just thinking about her classy bitch. Then a thought struck her. She flew to the computer and information flew across the screen.

If her classy bitch says she's the best, then she was gonna prove her right.

26/40 A bad day for Picturesque

The time came for the two lovers to go to their respective homes. The short train ride back to Canterlot was spent in comfortable silence. Haycartes' head never left the top of his mare's. They exited the train and Haycarte turned to walk towards the Dean's penthouse but Picturesque looked at him with pleading eyes. "s'il te plait mon amour encore un peu."

Wordsmith had taught him, with much difficulty, what a stroll was. It'd been like pulling teeth to deprogram Haycarte's death trot. It just didn't make sense to him that a walk could be a destination. So using his new knowledge of how to walk aimlessly he led his mare the opposite direction.

The two walked head to head, hip to hip, tails entwined. Both walking eyes closed, just enjoying each other's presence. They couldn't care less where they were headed just as long as they were together. They fell into a path next to a canal. Haycartes knew he needed to turn around at some point, but never established when that point was.

Haycarte had walked these paths thousands of times and he knew where he was without having to think about it. His hind brain started to worry. Vague memories of these paths started to filter into his forebrain. His argumentative nature caused him to doubt his instincts. Hind brain was warning him to turn back, and his scars were agreeing, but he snapped at his brain to shut up and let him enjoy his stroll.

"Clearly we're not where you say we are because I haven't struck my hoof on that." He then immediately struck his hoof on a small crack in the sidewalk and his eyes snapped open. He had subconsciously led them on the path he had trotted every day from his hovel to the library. They were standing dead center in the middle of Canterlot's biggest unemployed urban youth stomping ground.

His mind raced, he glanced around but fortunately they were still alone, the streets were deserted. There was still time, he could fix this. He turned them into a side street determined to turn them around back the way they came. Of course things can never go as planned can they. A reflection in a window showed five ponies coming out of a building behind them. "Don't notice us just walk the other way and DAMNIT!" Because of course they had to latch on to the two lovers didn't they.

The two rounded a corner and Haycarte hissed into Picturesque's ear. "My love, we're about to be attacked. They have two unicorns with them so I need you to fly to the top of that building right now." Picturesque stopped dead in her tracks. She tried to ask what he meant. The five ponies rounded the corner at a gallop and charged straight at them. There was no time to explain. He grabbed her under all four hooves and tossed her bodily into the air shouting. "GO! NOW! GET OUT OF RANGE!"

She fumbled with her wings and awkwardly took to the sky. The first pony's hoof connected with the back of Roané's head knocking him down flat. The second grabbed him from behind under the front legs and locked his hooves behind Haycarte's head. The two unicorn's horns glowed but Picturesque was just out of range of their magic. They could only vainly tug at her not able to get a solid hold. They turned their attention to the earth pony.

Roané managed to swing both of his back hooves against the left hoof of the pony holding him causing him to lose his hold. He swung at the pony in front of him catching him in the neck. The third though bucked him with both back hooves into the levitation fields of the two unicorns who held him until two earth ponies could grab a front leg each. The remaining three took turns bucking him in the stomach and ribs.

Picturesque watched in silent panic. She couldn't stand it anymore. She didn't know what to do but she had to do something. She dashed down knocking over an earth pony before he could buck Haycarte in the muzzle. The unicorns had been watching her though and one grabbed her in his magical field. She struggled impotently against his telekinetic pull.

Haycarte cursed to himself. He couldn't allow this. He didn't care what they did to him but she was off limits. There was one sure fire way to make a gang of stallions lose their interest with mares, but oh how he was gonna get it afterwards. He bucked with both hooves into the stallionhood of the earth pony holding his right hoof breaking his hold. He sent a crashing blow with his right into the other pony's muzzle. He lept forward and planted both front hooves into the ground and bucked as hard as he could into the unicorn's nether regions eliciting an audible yelp.

The magical grasp of the unicorn holding Picturesque was broken and she dashed back out of range. The other unicorn seeing their prey was going to stay out of range and not wanting to meet the same fate as his fellows picked up Haycarte bodily and smashed him against the wall with a sickening crack. He fell limply into the water of the canal. Picturesque screamed at the sight.

The attackers considered their business done and the unicorn carried the wounded unicorn away in his magic. The two earth ponies carried along their wounded fellow. Picturesque took this opportunity to dive into the water after Haycarte who still hadn't surfaced. The walls of the canal were too high to pull him out but she managed to keep his bloodied mouth above water until the walls subsided. She dragged him onto the canal bank. He wasn't moving.

She called desperately to him trying to get a response but none came for several seconds. Finally he coughed and blinked. She wept with relief. He coughed and had trouble getting his breath. "not safe." He wheezed. Picturesque leaned in close to hear better but Haycartes got shakily to his hooves and started limping.

She helped him limp a few blocks until he led her to a dilapidated house, just off of the industrial sector of Canterlot. She stopped at the porch. "Mon amour, this house has been condemned. We must not go in." He didn't stop his limping trudge. He slipped under the "do not cross" tape and pushed on the door. The newly replaced deadbolt was useless in the rotten door frame.

Picturesque was unsure but eventually followed him. He collapsed onto a filthy mattress and she knelt beside him cradling his head. "Mon amour, why are we here. You need a doctor!"

He was breathing more softly more but could still only wheeze out the word. "Home."

27/40 Party foul

Vinyl was excited. She hadn't been this pumped for a show since her first gig in Canterlot under her new contract. She'd mixed a whole new set for Octavia after their little discussion and she knew it was gonna make her classy bitch fuckin cream herself. She bounded Pinkie Pie style all the way from her apartment to Mad Mares Dance Hall. She even showed up an hour early to bribe the bouncers.

She marched up and down on top of the bar barking commands like a drill sergeant. "Any mothafucka LOOKS at my classy bitch, you're on 'em. Any mothafucka TALKS to my classy bitch, they're outta here. ANY. MOTHAFUCKA. TOUCHES. MYYY" She held out the word, and pointed repeatedly to her chest for extra emphasis. "CLASSY BITCH! You BREAK their FUCKIN LEG, and THEN they're ouatta here. GOT IT?"

"No one's gonna steal your filly friend Pon-3 quit'cher bitchin." Neon Lights called down from the catwalk.

Vinyl floated a microphone up to him and pressed the antenna against his throat menacingly. "I will fuck you up dude." A short staring contest ensued and vinyl broke it with a laugh. She pranced over to her sound booth where everything was already ready to go but she needed something to occupy her mind. She felt like a barely legal about to get into their first club.

The doors opened and a grey mare walked in and stood awkwardly in the anteroom letting her eyes adjust from the bright sunlight to the soft blue green light of the club. The last time she'd been here it was positively packed with party ponies so seeing it empty was slightly off-putting. "BABEEEY!" The squeal split the still air of the bar and the over stimulated D.J. Vaulted over the sound station instead of having to go around.

Vinyl grabbed Octavia around the waste and spun her around giggling. The cellist was put down and the two kissed through their smiles. They could've stood there for the rest of their lives staring into each other's eyes but unfortunately half the world turned a deep shade of blue. Royal Blue to be exact. The aptly named mountain of pony was breaking personal space courtesy with barely contained excitement.

"Uum pardonnez-nous les femmes mais vous parlez de ce droit?" Royal Blue asked in broken Prench.

"Oui je suis content de te voir faire aussi." Octavia said in her mother tongue. Vinyl groaned at what her marefriend had started.

Royal Blue pranced in place. "Hold on slowa, I'm not very good yet."

Octavia was prepared to go on with the Prancofile, but Vinyl snatched her away and snapped at the bouncer. "My classy bitch, get your own!" Royal Blue deflated.

Vinyl started sliding Octavia along the floor but the cellist pushed away. "Vinyl that wasn't very nice, and what did you just call me?" She put on her very best pout.

Vinyls eyebrow raised. "What you are classy."

Octavia rolled her eyes. "No love, why would you call me a bitch?"

Vinyl understood the miscommunication but lacked the skill to clarify. "Nah nah babe it's not like that. Bitch it means I mean it a."

A voice called out from above. "term of endearment."

"Yeah that! It's what you call aaaa." Vinyl trailed off in thought.

"Pony of an inferior status with whom you intend to have sex." The elevated voice sounded again.

Octavia looked around but couldn't identify where the voice was coming from. "Who the Discord is saying that?"

Vinyl rolled her eyes."It's just Neon. He's"

The voice from the ceiling didn't miss a beat. "The envy of all stallions, and a sexy beast."

"A pain in my ass!" Vinyl called out testily.

A blue grey unicorn stallion hung down from the catwalk holding himself to its bottom telekinetically. He dropped down and cushioned his landing with his magic.

"Babe, this is Neon Lights. He handles the light show, and the business end of our little operation. He's actually the one that got us the contract out here." Vinyl gave the light technician a side hug. "Me and him go waaay back."

"So you're the one PON-3's all hot and bothered about." He looked Octavia up and down like a connoisseur, he nodded his head and pursed his lips in approval. "Nice" he gave Vinyl a brohoof.

Octavia bowed, formal as ever. "Very pleased to meet you. I suppose I have to thank you for bringing my little Vinyl here for me." Octavia pulled at Vinyl's cheek teasingly. Vinyl pushed her away, faux frowning.

"Yeah sorry for subjecting you to that." He chuckled to himself and Vinyl's horn glowed summoning a symbol Octavia didn't understand. It looked like a five digited Griffin's claw with the center talon raised. Neon laughed and waved a hoof dismissively. He apparently understood the gesture.

"Well it's not a show unless ponies have something to look at. Scuse me." His horn flashed and a bright green glowing full elevator box with attendant emanated from his horn, and he raised himself back up to the catwalk.

Octavia stood mouth agape. Vinyl rolled her eyes. "Fuckin show off. Come on lemme show you where the magic happens!" She led Octavia to the sound stage then grew very serious. "Now babe I love you and shit, but don't touch a fuckin thing. Everything is set to perfection, down to the individual sound wave. Got it?"

Octavia was mildly offended at the needless warning. She was a concert musician. She tuned her cello by ear down to the smallest degree. She knew better than to meddle with somepony's instrument. Vinyl had to be taught a lesson. She put on a mischievous air.

"So don't touch this?" She brought her hoof down within an inch of a randomly selected slide.

Vinyl stared daggers at the hoof. "Babe I'm not fuckin around here. Do not!"

"This right here? So you're saying I shouldn't touch this?" She brought the hoof closer.

Vinyl brought her face closer to the scene as if proximity would dissuade the offending hoof. "DO NOT! FUCKIN! TOUCH-"

Octavia jerked her hoof to within a hair's breadth of the dial. Vinyl jumped at the sudden motion. Her face was an inch away from the hoof and dial. The cellist poked the D.J. on the nose. "Boop."

Vinyl collapsed to the floor in shame. Her face, an ocean of disappointment. She'd been played like a cello. Octavia giggled at her joke and cooed softly to her prone lover. "Oh I'm sorry love but you were being fussy. I know better than to."

Vinyl picked Octavia bodily up in her magic. Still laying on the floor of the sound stage. She pulled off her sunglasses and stared straight into Octavia's soul. She knew the effect her eyes had on the pony, though she didn't know why, but she focused every ounce of will into her crimson eyes. Octavia protested feebly but she was held rigid in the telekinetic field. Those eyes paralyzed and hypnotized her. The rest of the world faded away. All there was in that moment was Vinyl. Her Vinyl.

Vinyl brought her slowly down to where they were almost muzzle to muzzle. She whispered ever so softly. "I love you." The D.J. brought the cellist down further turning her head for a kiss. The cellist could feel her lover's breath on her. And then she felt her lover's hoof on her nose."boop" Octavia was dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Vinyl had already gotten up and was starting up her machines. "Don't mess with the best baby. Octavia pouted laying face down on the floor.

Eventually the club opened and the party ponies started filing in. Several sat at booths in small groups and a few hung around the bar. Eventually the Dance Hall reached its crowd capacity and ponies started milling around anxious for the music to start. Octavia asked about the needless delay.

"Vinyl chuckled to herself knowingly. "Nah babe you gotta build up the suspense. Make em want it." After a few more minutes of dragging out the suspense a series of nods came from each of the club employees in turn. In a club you have to have situational awareness or you might get caught in the crossfire.

"Hey babe wanna see a stampede?" Vinyl hit several buttons with her magic. Octavia never got a chance to say no. Thundering bass burst into the room. The large speakers blasted Vinyl's new material full force into the crowded ponies. Instantly the whole club was on their hooves and Octavia had to admit it did resemble a stampede as they rushed to the dance floor.

Octavia's ears lay flat against her head at the oppressive volume. She had to shout to be heard as she asked. "HOW CAN YOU WORK LIKE THIS?"

Vinyl chuckled in her throat. "THIS IS THE ONLY WAY I WORK!" Vinyl worked like a machine. Various buttons and switches were pressed and released in time with the music. She spun records on her turntables for certain effects. Octavia stood in awe at the proficiency of the unicorn. The entire sound stage was her instrument. Every button, every switch, every scratch off the record was precise and intentional. Octavia still wasn't crazy about the music itself, but she had spoken true when she'd called Vinyl the finest musician she had ever met.

Octavia could've, and would've, stood there mesmerized by the D.J. at work but she kept having to squint and avert her gaze. She made the mistake of looking up and was instantly blinded by several bright flashes of light right to the eyes. Had she been able to see she would've been treated to a dazzling light show.

She felt something gently poking her in the side. She looked and saw a pair of ridiculous sunglasses levitating in front of her. She squinted at Vinyl who leaned over to say. "THESE'LL HELP." Octavia rolled her eyes, the cellist felt like it was ridiculous to wear sunglasses indoors but took the proferred shades.

Octavia put them on and instantly the room became crystal clear. The glare from the lights vanished. She could even see the lines of the tiles on the dance floor. She looked back to Vinyl, awe clearly visible on her face. Vinyl chuckled to herself. She held up her hooves and her horn summoned glowing neon letters between them spelling out. "Magic." Octavia looked away pouting, feeling slightly foalish.

She looked and saw the spectacle of lasers and strobe lights coming from the ceiling. She spied Neon Lights handling them with his magic. Turning this one off and on, making that one flash in rhythm with the beat. The cellist leaned over to the D.J. . "THE LIGHTS REALLY ARE LOVELY."

Vinyl nodded without looking away from her station. "YUP NEONS THE BEST IN THE BUSINESS AT LIGHTS!"

Neon Lights once again hung down from the catwalk and shouted, "AND SHE'S THE BEST AT BEATS."

The two shouted into the microphone in unison. "AND TOGETHER. WE. MAKE. BITCHES. SCREAM!" As if on cue the bass dropped and the crowd cheered. Octavia was genuinely impressed at the whole spectacle.

After about 10 minutes of music Vinyl stopped the music. Octavia's ears were ringing as Vinyl addressed the crowd. "Eh Canterlot how the fuck you feelin?" Octavia had to once again fold her ears back against her head at the deafening roar of the party ponies. She was amazed at Vinyl's raw charisma with the crowd. How she could silence them with a hoof and make them scream with a word.

The music burst out again and the dancing resumed. Well "dancing". Octavia looked about at a sea of bodies thrashing wildly. Her mother had demanded, as part of her education as a filly, to be instructed in the basics of dance. She knew just enough to properly waltz, and how to appreciate the movements of ballet, but they never piqued her interest.

This on the other hoof was more of vaguely synchronized jumping and some mares were literally just shaking their hind quarters. Octavia was glad she was in the sound studio with her lover rather than mixed in with the sweating drunken writhing masses. As if on cue that's when Vinyl pressed a few buttons, made sure everything was steady, then told Octavia to go dance.

"VINYL I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DANCE-." Octavia pointed to a particularly uncoordinated unicorn with glow rings around her horn. " LIKE THAT"

Vinyl chuckled to herself. "THAT'S WHY I'M HERE." Her horn glowed and a symbol of a cocktail glass and a shot glass shined above her head. A minute later a waitress brought over a double shot of something or other and a large colorful mixed drink. Vinyl raised her shot and motioned for Octavia to take the other drink. "FIRST STEP GET NICE AND LOOSENED UP." Once again Vinyl had made the mistake of underestimating her.

Octavia had spent her summers in Prance land of wine, brandy, and bad accordion music. She was particularly fond of brandy. Vinyl levitated the shot to her mouth but it was stopped by a gray hoof in front of it. Before Vinyl could complain Octavia wrapped her mouth around the shot glass and tilted her head all the way back. She then took the cocktail and downed the full glass in a breath, which she instantly regretted as it was disgustingly sweet. She was really going to have to teach Vinyl how to drink properly.

Vinyl's horn arced with a jolt of magical static discharge at the sight. She stood there jaw agape. Who the fuck was this pony and where had she been all her life Vinyl thought to herself. "BABE THAT WAS SICK AS SHIT!" She cheered.

"THAT WAS SICK! WHATEVER THAT COCKTAIL WAS MUCH TOO SWEET. BUT WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH.-" She pointed to a pair of pegasi that were rubbing against each other in a most uncouth manner.

Vinyl's grin made a triumphant return. "EVERYTHING BABY! NOW CUMMERE." The D.J. wrapped her magic around the cellist and stood behind her front legs wrapped around her, pressing the cellist's rump against her hips. She started to sway Octavia back and forth rhythmically to the beat. "LEFT LEFT RIGHT LEFT. RIGHT RIGHT LEFT RIGHT. JUST DO THAT."

"VINYL THIS IS LITERALLY ME JUST SHAKING MY PLOT." The cellist shouted.

Vinyl grinned and shook her head. Of course her classy bitch wouldn't understand the finer points of shaking her ass. "YES!" She grabbed Octavia's flank with her hoof and squeezed it. "AND YOU'VE GOT A GREAT ASS TO SHAKE!" She pulled Octavia close, still swaying her in her magic.

Octavia felt her plot grinding against Vinyl's hips, and was embarrassed to find herself enjoying the sensation. The magical field dropped and Octavia took over the motions. She kept catching herself intentionally pressing against Vinyl as she did so and the D.J. definitely noticed. Vinyl was lost in those swaying grey flanks, just watching the treble clef stretch and contract. Vinyl was ogling her, and neither could get enough of it.

D.J. PON-3's ear shot up at some expected musical cue and she dashed from behind Octavia back to the turntables. She'd given herself enough of a break for a quick drink but she couldn't just abandon her post. She was back to bobbing her head and flipping various switches. Octavia was mildly put down at the loss of her dance partner. "NOW GO AND SHOW OF MY NEW PIECE OF ASS." Vinyl pointed to the dance floor.

Octavia pouted. First she was denied her dance partner, now she was being shooed away. "BUT LOVE! I WANT TO DANCE WITH YOU!" Octavia whined in her best come hither accent. Which was really something considering it had to be shouted over loud dubstep. Vinyl bit her lower lip hard and slapped herself across the face with her hoof. "I GOTTA WORK BABE. YOU GO HAVE FUN." Vinyl slapped Octavia's plot, and she was once again mortified that she enjoyed the sensation. She gently but firmly pushed Octavia out of the sound booth.

The cellist was annoyed at not being with her unicorn but she did like the reaction she had gotten out of her. Plus she could do with another drink or two, so it wouldn't hurt to sachet her way to the bar in the rhythm that Vinyl had shown her. She danced her way obliquely around several groups of flailing ponies. Had she had the situational awareness requisite in the club business she would've noticed the plethora of ponies that approached her and then were suddenly sent scuttling away by the bouncers.

On her way the uncoordinated unicorn she'd noticed earlier bumped against her and fell over. Royal Blue was there in a heartbeat. Octavia tried to help her to her hooves but she seemed completely out of it. The bouncer picked up the mare and Octavia asked if she was going to be okay. "Oh yeah. She just partied a little too hard. She'll be fine." Octavia was still concerned and asked him to put her in the V.I.P. room.

Club workers are excellent at nonverbal communication, and a series of nods and gestures got all the way to Vinyl. Roy pointed to the now thoroughly passed out unicorn then at Octavia then at the V.I.P. room. Vinyl looked hard at Octavia who raised the shades she'd been wearing and pleaded with her eyes. If Bae wants it Bae gets it. The D.J. nodded and Royal Blue parted a sea of ponies with his hulking mass towards the V.I.P. room.

He placed the unconscious unicorn on a couch, and returned to the dance floor. He hadn't noticed the foam leaking from the unicorns mouth.

Octavia made it to the bar and let her tail sway to the beat while she waited. The music wasn't nearly as bad tonight. She'd have to thank Vinyl properly for that later. The bar mare, a spindly thin unicorn, finally made her way to Octavia but despite her best efforts she simply couldn't hear her. The cellist took a pen and a napkin that were by a register and wrote "Brandy please." The bar mare shouted. "SHE'S NOT HERE TONIGHT." The cellist facehoofed. She added "the drink" to the napkin. The barmare simply raised an eyebrow. Octavia was thoroughly annoyed. She thought loud enough to be heard over the music. "WHAT KIND OF FUCKING BARMARE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT FUCKING BRANDY IS?"

Octavia looked at the various bottles against the wall. "How many different types of vodka do you really need?" She finally spied on the very top shelf a dusty, mostly full bottle of Haynessy cognac. It was about to be a very good night. The cellist pointed with her hoof to the bottle and the barmare levitated it down. She grabbed a shot glass but the brandy connoisseur stopped her before she could commit sacrilege.

Again the chain of nods made it's way to the D.J.. Octavia knew it was straining courtesy to ask but she would either cry or hurt somepony if they disrespected her national drink. She wrote on a napkin to ask if she could be allowed behind the bar. The unicorn signaled as such and Vinyl got very uncertain.

Not only was this against policy, and for once she actually cared, but this also set a bad precedent. She trusted Octavia though so she let out a heavy sigh. If Bae wants it Bae gets it. Her face grew hard. She lifted her signature sunglasses and showed full force her crimson eyes. Then a small glowing pink heart zapped out of the unicorns horn. She smiled and went back to work.

Octavia understood this to mean something approximating. " I'm going to allow this but don't you make me regret it. I love you." With that she was allowed behind the bar and Octavia set about her drink, pouring it into its proper glass and was satisfied. Then it hit her. For the first time in her life she could decide for herself how much she wanted to drink, and she had a mostly full bottle of Haynessy. It was about to be a very, very good night.

Several glasses of Haynessy later a sound hit Octavia's ear that she'd not expected in a dance hall. A cello. Her head snapped around to stare wide eyed at Vinyl. She'd worked for hours on it. She'd gone through every single instrument in her computer to find out what they sounded like. She'd painstakingly spliced together sounds from the entire orchestra.

Octavia felt tears in her eyes. Her Vinyl was so sweet that she'd made a song using her instrument as a base, and oh what bass. Octavia didn't just tolerate this track, she LOVED it. The gap had been bridged. It wasn't a musical train wreck, it was an avalanche, never letting you get comfortable with one particular melody, always in flux. She had translated the genre into a musical language she could understand. Well if her Vinyl was going to do something so sweet, she deserved some sugar.

Octavia scrambled up into the bar and shook her hips in the way Vinyl had shown her. The alcohol lent her movements fluidity and freedom and she shook what her mére had given her for all it was worth. She noticed Vinyl staring and raised the shades to wink at her. She blew her sweet sweet Vinyl a kiss and continued her dance.

She tossed her mane wildly and leaned against a post sensually. She'd seen various mares drop down nearly to the floor and raise up again slowly and decided that would be a nice touch now. She threw her hooves in the air and brought them down along her hips tracing her curves. Vinyl's horn was arcing like a Tesla coil at the display.

The crowd cheered. It was always nice to see a waisted light weight dancing on the bar, but this was something else entirely. The bouncers had already been busy fielding the various interested ponies from hitting on PON-3'S classy bitch. Now they formed a wall, shoulder to shoulder to fend off any and all interested ponies.This was a problem for Vinyl for several reasons.

First it was a health code violation for Octavia to have all four hooves on the bar, and again Vinyl found herself caring for the first time in her life.

Second, again it set a bad precedent. It's hard to get a club to the right amount of wild. Nopony wants to dance at a club that's no fun, but too wild and it starts attracting the wrong kind of ponies. The kind that like to ruin a good time.

Third, it's bad policy to have all your bouncers in one place at one time. That's how mistakes are made and things get missed.

Fourth and most personally for Vinyl, she hadn't had sexual gratification for several days. It's very dangerous to apply moisture to electrical equipment, and that mare on the bar threatened to flood the place.

Vinyl's horn wouldn't stop arcing little sparks of magical discharge from pent up sexual tension, and her lip was bleeding from biting it so hard. Her job took extreme focus but the display Octavia was making of herself was anathema to the very idea of focus. Vinyl hit the panic button and a few seconds later Neon Lights dropped down from the catwalk. This time thankfully without the elevator. Vinyl begged him to take over.

"Uh uh! You're not gettin if this stage without thankin her. I thought you 'loooooved' her." Neon said grinning as he swung a spotlight over to Octavia.

Vinyl got the message. The music stopped and Vinyl shouted. "GIVE IT UP. FOR THE FINEST BITCH IN THIS PLACE!" The crowd went absolutely bonkers fruit candy.

Octavia's face lit up red. She honestly hadn't realized other ponies were watching. Under the influence of tolerable brandy, enjoyable music, and a beautiful mare, Octavia hadn't remembered she was in a crowded club full of ponies. She'd been dancing for her Vinyl, and her Vinyl alone. So seeing every pair of eyes in the club on her at once came as a bit of a shock. She sheepishly waved at the crowd. Mercifully her mortification was brought to an end by Vinyl grabbing her in her magic and carrying her into the V.I.P. room.

Octavia was flung onto a vacant couch and the D.J. literally pounced on her. Vinyl couldn't seem to kiss her mare hard enough. She held Octavia and tight as she could as she ground her muzzle against the earth pony's. Their legs intertwined and Octavia reciprocated the attention. Finally Vinyl disconnected and grabbed the cellist's head and screamed. "STOOOP.!" She gasped for breath and lay limply on top of Octavia panting like a sprinter.

"I'm sorry was I too-." Octavia was interrupted by the D.J. resuming the kiss.

"STOP Being sexy while I'm working!" Vinyl said between breaths while shaking Octavia's head. " I can't think straight when you're shaking this." She roughly grabbed Octavia's flank. "I haven't gotten off in days thanks to you and I have to focus!" She kissed the cellist slightly more gently this time. Vinyl once again lay against Octavia's chest breathing heavily. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to DJ with your horn shocking the shit out of you?"

Octavia was relieved to hear she hadn't done anything wrong, she'd just done something her mare liked a little too well. She was worried though that Vinyl was so pent up.
The cellist was more than willing to help, she trotted the 'come hither' accent back out. "Oh can't Neon Handle it? I mean my dorm's right there. Can't I just thank you properly for being so sweet mon amour?"

Vinyl shuddered violently and a large bolt of blue magic arced across the furniture. "FUCK THE DORM YOU'RE GETTIN IT RIGHT HERE!" Vinyl started to shift but Octavia grabbed her before she could get too far along and pointed to the unconscious mare on the other couch. Vinyl scoffed. "I don give a fuck." She started moving her hoof again. Octavia grabbed Vinyl's head and whispered. "S'il te plait mon amour allons-y." Vinyl groaned loudly in frustration and threw a trash can across the room petulantly. "FIIIINE! Gimme twelve seconds." Vinyl sprang from the room and door slammed shut behind her.

Octavia was left in near silence. She giggled to herself and shuffled into a half sitting posture. Her mind swam with dreams of romance. This had been the best night of her life. She was in love with a beautiful talented sweet pony that she was about to make love to. They had their whole lives ahead of them together. It had indeed been a very, very, good night, and it was only about to get better.

Eventually her mind swam back into focus and her gaze drifted onto the mare on the other couch. "Having a good time?" She called out, still chuckling. The unicorn didn't respond. Octavia moved to the other couch and plopped down slightly unsteadily next to her. "Pardonnez-moi but I don't think you should sleep here." She gently shook the limp form of the glow ring bedecked mare.

Concern crept into Octavia's face. She noticed that there was foam coming out of the unicorn's mouth and nose. She snapped to her hooves. "Hey! HEY! MISS CAN YOU HEAR ME?" She shook her violently. There was no response. Octavia could see she wasn't breathing. She collapsed onto her back and shuffled backwards away in horror.

She tried to call out for help but the words died in her throat. She couldn't speak. She couldn't think. She couldn't move. All she could do was stare at the limp frame of the unicorn.

Vinyl burst into the room shouting. "ALL RIGHT BABE LET'S-." She noticed Octavia sitting on the floor, face contorted with horror. She rushed over to her mare. "Babe what's wrong? What is it?" Octavia still hadn't found her voice. All she could do was stammer and point at the other couch. Vinyl looked and knew the situation at a glance.

"Oh fuck."

28/40 home

Picturesque looked around at the dilapidated hovel. The evening sun was visible through holes in the roof. Every single pane of glass was broken, the only thing that looked new in the entire house were the piles of books scattered about the filthy mattress.

"Here? You lived here?" She lifted Haycartes' head to look him in the face, tears standing in her eyes. "Why in Equestria would you want to live in a place like this?"

Haycartes took a deep breath for the first time since the attack. He looked back towards the door. "This is my home. This is where I grew up."

Picturesque stroked his mane with growing horror at what she was hearing. "Why would your parents allow you to live like this?"

"They left." Silence hung heavily in the air. He felt tears hitting the side of his face. He looked at the mare he loved. She had tears streaming down her muzzle. He limply raised a hoof to her face and said, "Don't worry. It's okay."

Picturesque snapped to her hooves outraged at what she'd just heard. "ROANÉ HAYCARTES, NEVER SAY THAT AGAIN! IT IS MOST CERTAINLY NOT OKAY! It's not okay for parents to abandon their foals! It's not okay to live in squalor! You shouldn't have to live like this, my love! Don't you know that? Don't you understand that?"

It was probably the beating he had just received, but for the first time since he had met Picturesque, Haycartes found himself annoyed with her. "Of course I understand that, but being upset about it isn't going to help anything. It would be the same situation but I'd also be angry."

Picturesque was indignant. "Do you just feel nothing? When something makes you happy don't you laugh? When something pains you don't you cry? How can you say you love me if you feel nothing at all?"

He looked hard at her and slowly, painfully got to his hooves. He ground his teeth as he whispered. "What. Good. Would. It. Do?" He shouted as loud as his injuries would allow. ''I am a RATIONAL BEING!" He struck the worm eaten door frame with his hoof. "I have choice!" He struck the doorframe again harder this time. He began to punctuate every sentence by chipping away at the rotting wood. Picturesque could see his hoof begin to bleed, and she cried out for him to stop. "And holding a grudge. DOESN'T. FUCKING. SOLVE. ANYTHING. When I had no food did being hungry feed me? NO! I just stopped feeling hunger." Haycartes spoke faster now. No longer giving an explanation or even arguing. It was as if he had never processed this train of thought to its logical conclusion, and was just realizing for the first time how he had been living his whole life. "When the street thugs beat me, did crying out in pain stop them? No, I just stopped feeling pain. When I cried for three days straight waiting for my parents to come back, did being sad bring them home? No. . . I just stopped. . ."

She sprang towards him, and pulled him around to look at her. A small blot of blood stuck to the corner of his mouth, but she for the first time, saw his eyes clearly. They were as gray as his mane and tail, and tired, tired beyond belief. Instead of the snarling rage she expected, or the violent dismissal, his hoof reached up softly and caressed her cheek.

"That's why you're such a problem for me. When I see you I can't help but love you. It's an involuntary reaction like I've never felt before. That's why it sends my mind out of focus. With you I can't help but feel.

She wrapped her front legs and wings around him and held him tight. "Mon amour, je suis vraiment désolé. Je ne peux pas changer toutes les choses terribles qui vous sont arrivées mais je vous promets que vous ne devrez plus jamais être seul. Je promets. Je t'aime." She kissed him deeply.

Haycartes looked intently at her, and something inside of him broke. He did something that he hadn't done in thirteen years. He cried. He placed his head against her chest, and he wept bitterly for the first time since the day his parents hadn't come back. A lifetime of pain came flooding back. Finally he had someone who would care if he cried. Finally it actually mattered what he felt.

She held him as he wept and eventually he managed to stand without pain again. He led her slowly out of the hovel and towards her father's penthouse. Luckily they weren't interrupted the whole way and finally arrived at her door. "And you're sure you're alright?" She asked, still unconvinced.

"Oh, I've got Sawbones to patch me up. I'll be fine." He said looking her straight in the eyes. "I love you." Picturesque was so happy about his new ability to look at her she decided to believe him. They kissed goodnight and she gently shut the door behind her.

Without the healing effect the mare had over him he immediately coughed up a few drops of blood. All the pain of the beating he received came crashing back down. His hind brain was cursing a blue streak, and his fore brain was scrambling to find a solution. "Oh, shit. Need help. Actually dying. Need help. Should've gone to the hospital. Need help. This was a mistake. Need help. Hospital too far. Need help. Sawbones. Need help. College closer." He limped towards RCU.

Inside, Picturesque was shaken to her core. The things her lover had been through. She couldn't even imagine something so horrible from her dear parents. She flew to her father's study, suddenly feeling the need to thank him for all he'd done for her. She flew into his office and draped her mane over him as was her habit.

"Mon pére, Merci pour tout ce que vous avez fait. Tu es un père merveilleux et je t'aime." She kissed his cheek.

"Well thank you my dear. And I couldn't ask for a better daughter. In fact I've got a surprise for you!"

Picturesque didn't raise her head still hugging her dear father. "oh et c'est quoi?" She asked unconcernedly.

"I've just sent off your admission forms. I've decided your mother is right, and you're to be educated in Prançe. It's been wrong of me to keep you from your home. So, day after tomorrow, you'll be moving to Mareseilles with your mother. Isn't that wonderful?"

Picturesque's head popped off of her father's shoulder, and heart sank in her chest. She'd never been so distraught in her life. The thought of being away from the pony she loved was simply too horrible. She backed away from the desk in horror. "Non. Non! NON NON NON!” She flew out of the room. Her father called after her, but she didn't answer. She flew straight to her bedroom and cried all that night, unable to bear the thought of being separated from the pony she loved.

The Dean was honestly hurt at seeing his daughter so unhappy, but a painful victory is still a victory. He could visit her in Mareseilles anytime he wanted. That Demon couldn't, and he knew it. But it wasn't enough. No, that Demon needed to KNOW he'd lost, and at whose hooves. He summoned a runner, and quickly gave him a copy of Picturesque's acceptance letter to the Académie de Marseille to be clipped to his door.

By tomorrow, he'd won.

29/30 hedonism bad

It had been a long night. Vinyl had taken Octavia back to her dorm and had held her as she cried until she'd fallen asleep. Neon, the consummate professional that he was, used Octavia's little show as an excuse to close early so nopony knew the real reason. Nopony was gonna argue that PON-3 shouldn't go hit that after that dance.

The guards had arrived and taken away the body. Nopony who worked at Mad Mares knew the unicorn in question. Everypony had seen her, as she'd been a regular, but not one pony could remember what her name was. Nopony knew if she had any family. All the guards could do is file a report about the body and wait for somepony to file a missing pony report. The V.I.P. room had been deep cleaned, and all was back to normal. It was as if she'd never existed. And that was Octavia's problem.

She hadn't said a word since they'd woken up. She wouldn't even look Vinyl in the eye, but she clung to her like a filly clings to its mother. She held onto Vinyl like she thought she'd vanish if she let go. Vinyl didn't mind this at first, as she was more than happy to comfort her mare, but something had to be done when it came time for a potty break.

"Octavia?" The DJ asked. She didn't move. "Babe?" There was no response. "I'ma go to the bathroom. I'll be right back. Okay?" Still the earth pony sat in silence. Vinyl gently disconnected herself and the cellist's hooves fell limply to the bed. Vinyl wanted to say something but couldn't bring herself to.

She did her business, and was about to go back to Octavia's side, but she caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror. She stared at herself for a good long while, taking in the gravity of the situation. "Fuck you." She sighed at herself and reentered Octavia's room.

Octavia hadn't moved. Her hooves still lay limply where they'd been when she left. Vinyl couldn't stand it any longer. She had no clue how to handle this situation but something had to be done. "Babe. Babe please. Look at me." The cellist slowly moved her hooves in closer to her. She still didn't look up. Vinyl's voice grew in desperation. "Octavia please." Octavia began to shake softly. She finally raised her head and Vinyl saw tears streaming down her face. Octavia tried to say something but her voice was dry and cracked. "What was that babe?"

The cellist snapped to her hooves and screamed. "WHAT WAS HER NAME VINYL?" Vinyl shrank back at the volume. "How does a pony just up and vanish Vinyl? Everypony at the club knew her, she was a regular, how does she die and nopony knows her name? She was a pony, she had a family, she had to live somewhere, somepony had to know her. Now she's dead love."

She lunged forward and held Vinyl tight weeping bitterly into the side of her neck. She could only mutter the word "please" between sobs. Vinyl held her close and stroked her mane as she cried. She coaxed her crying mare over to the bed and they sat down.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry it's just." She wiped her muzzle and held her mare close. "I just can't stand the thought of losing you."

Vinyl understood and squeezed Octavia. "Hey babe don't worry! I'm not goin anywhere. See I'm right here." She rocked back and forth holding her lover's head with her hooves. "I'm right here. I'm just fine."

Octavia happily accepted the comfort her lover offered. This was the most scared that she'd ever been in her life. She couldn't bear the thought of losing her sweet sweet Vinyl, so having her reassurance calmed her immensely.

Vinyl chuckled. "And besides you were there. You see how it is. You my little stripper danced on the bar for everypony you party animal."

"I wasn't dancing for them Love. I was dancing for you. I didn't notice anypony was watching until you moved the spotlight." Vinyl stared for a moment at her mare. She broke into a shaking laughter and fell sideways on the bed. Because of course she would. Of course her little mare wouldn't think that anypony but her would watch her stripper dancing on the bar.

Octavia had to laugh in spite of herself. She laid against her lover's side and just enjoyed the feeling of laughing with the pony she loved. A thought occurred to her. "By the way love, you simply must have that bar mare retrained. Who doesn't know what brandy is?" She rolled over scoffing at the unfathomable notion.

Vinyl looked about nervously. "Yeah I'll get right on that. Oh yeah, babe! Where'd you learn to drink like that? That was fuckin boss!"

"It's part of a young lady's education in Prançe to gain an appreciation for the old vintages. A lady should know what to drink, what not to drink." She scrambled onto her mare. "And when to stop" She said mirthlessly.

Vinyl rolled her eyes. "Babe! I've been doin this a long time. I can handle my shit." She grinned nostalgically. "Trust me, no matter how fucked up I get, or where I black out, I always get back on my hooves." She winked.

Octavia slowly got off of Vinyl, face drawn with concern. "What do you mean 'black out.'"

Vinyl couldn't help but grin at the memories, or in this case lack thereof, of her intoxicated exploits. "Ah babe you don't even know! That's where your brain goes to sleep but your body goes all 'eye of the tiger' on you and soldiers on."

Octavia's horror rose. "And this is something you do?"

Vinyl underestimated her lover's discomfort taking it as harmless prudentry. "Dude!" She grinned at the recollection. "Okay like this one time, I was doin a gig in Trotterdam, and I fuckin woke up two days later in Las Pegasus!" Her cackling laughter was cut off by Octavia springing to her hooves, tears in her eyes.

"You're just okay with not being in control of your senses?" She shouted desperately.

It was only now that Vinyl realized her lover's concern. "Babe it's fine. I've.-"

"AND WHAT ABOUT WHEN YOUR NOT FUCKING FINE VINYL? WHAT ABOUT WHEN YOU BLACK OUT AND DON'T WAKE UP AGAIN?" Octavia screamed.

Vinyl held up her hooves defensively. "Babe calm down! It's just part of the life ya know? Life's a party so party till you drop."

Octavia gasped and put a hoof to her mouth. She could only whisper in horror. "Is that all there is to you? You're just okay with dying meaninglessly in some club?"

Vinyl stood up carelessly, still not grasping the gravity of the situation. "Yeah, I mean shit, everypony's gotta die sometime right? May as well be while you're having a good time."

A vision of Vinyl laying limp and lifeless with foam coming out of her mouth and nose flashed across Octavia's mind. Octavia slapped Vinyl across the face. She ran out of the room leaving Vinyl speechless.

Vinyl was stunned. The slap hadn't hurt but it had shattered her world. She sat there eyes wide, face blank for what felt like hours. Finally she got up and slowly walked home in a daze. She arrived at her apartment and plopped down just inside the door. She held her head in between her hooves.

"That bitch. That unbelievable cunt. She fucked it all up." Vinyl thought to herself out loud. "I had a good thing goin, a steady gig, a bitchin apartment, money finally comin in. And for what." She got up unsteadily beginning to shake with anger. Octavia had destroyed her world and rebuilt it with her as its center. Now she was gone. Vinyl was adrift in the void. "ALL BECAUSE OF HER!"

"Just cause some bitch O.D.s I'm not good enough for her. Just cause I don't know everypony, it's my fault she's dead. Who the fuck was she to me? What the fuck do I care if she's dead?"

Vinyl grit her teeth and screamed in rage. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE WAY I LIVE MY LIFE. I LIKE GETTIN FUCKED UP. WHAT THE FUCK DO I CARE WHO THAT BITCH WAS. FUCK HER." She wanted to smash everything in her apartment but she couldn't focus on anything. All she could do was scream in impotent rage. "Yeah I'ma die someday big fuckin whoop. What the fuck do I care who remembers me. I have a good time. I'm there fuckin best at what I do. Who cares what her fucking name was. It's not my fault."

She ran out of steam and collapsed against the door again. She couldn't be mad anymore. All she had left was a crushing emptiness. She needed her mare. All she wanted in the world was her mare. But she wasn't there. Her mind went blank. She sat staring at the ceiling, one thought plaguing her mind. What was her name though. . . . What was her name?

"Oh fuck.

30/40 You're a slut

Sawbones was in the bad habit of reading esoteric medical texts until he fell asleep. This was a bad habit because he could never quite remember where he got to in his books before falling asleep and would often read several chapters repeatedly as a consequence. He lay sitting up in his bed head lolled back snoring, the book laying in his lap. He was instantly jolted awake by a loud crack and the sound of shattering glass.

He sprung out of bed in a daze not knowing what was going on. His horn flared defensively. What he would've done with it he had no idea but it seemed like the thing to do. After a few seconds of inaction he rubbed his eyes and put more energy into his horn to illuminate the room. He saw nopony.

He turned on the light and sure enough the window was badly cracked. A stone lay still wobbling on the floor. His disbelief tempered his outrage. He was too concerned about why anyone would break his window to be mad about it. He looked outside and his eyes went wide.

He dashed into the bathroom and straight through to the other dormitory. The mare currently straddling wordsmith squeaked in surprise. Sawbones galloped straight through without looking at the two. "SMITH GET DOWNSTAIRS. NOW!" Sawbones barked in the voice medical professionals use that ponies instinctively obey.

Wordsmith exited the mare he was currently with and flopped over ungracefully to the floor. He scrambled out the door. "What the discord is the matter old colt? BONES!" The poet called after his friend but the medical student didn't answer. The gap between them widened and Wordsmith was forced to look for where he'd galloped off to when he reached the ground floor.

He spied his friend crouching over something, but the poet couldn't quite identify it by moonlight. He trotted up to see what the fuss was all about. "I say what's all this interrupting a romantic even-. ROANÉ!" Wordsmith finally saw what Sawbones had seen and was currently examining. It was the broken bloodied form of his dorm mate. "Carte! What in tartarus' black pits happened to you?" Wordsmith shouted in a voice half concern and half reproach.

"Smith, shut up and go get an ambulance. Carte, don't answer that your ribs are broken, don't try to talk." Wordsmith dashed off towards the clinic where there was a magical hotline to Canterlot General for emergency cases

Haycartes began to chuckle to himself. "I'm sorry I broke your window. I didn't think I could make it up the stairs." Roané wheezed out. Sawbones' face went blank. All concentration shattered in an instant all medical professionalism evaporated. The medical student couldn't help but chuckle. Because of course he would. Even now, beaten and bloodied, the stoic still apologizes for damaging his room. He plopped down on the ground laughing at the absurdity of his friend.

Wordsmith returned to find his friend sitting on the ground still laughing. His eyes flamed. He grabbed Sawbones by the shoulders. "What do you think is so funny at a time like this?" Sawbones had trouble stopping his chuckling.
He breathed deeply and told him the joke.

"Ah very well that is rather funny. Though you do owe me an apology as well old colt. You interrupted a very pleasant evening with that pretty pink pegasus from your fillysophy class." Wordsmith said gently surrounding the stricken pony with his magic.

They slowly carefully walked up the stairs and were about to enter the dorm when out of the corner of his eye Haycarte spied the name Picturesque. His hoof lashed out reflexatorily and he seized the letter clipped to the door frame.

He was placed on his bed while still reading and his labored breathing became a rattling wheeze. "No-" He coughed with the effort of speaking. "She wouldn't!" His face went pale and he fell back limply at the pain.

Sawbones' took the letter from his friend and told him not to speak. Wordsmith read the letter to see what had his friend so bothered. His face went pale and he sighed. He knew right away the whole situation, and his heart bled for his friend. "Oh Carte. I'm so sorry old colt. But these things do happen. Mares can be capricious don't you know. a terr.-" A hoof across his muzzle sent him sprawling into his bed.

Haycarte was on his hooves, his breathing ragged but pain forgotten. His normally hard voice was now a seething growl. "Don't you dare call her capricious you son of a bitch. That mare dove into the water to save me this evening. Name one of your 'ladies of the evening' who would do the same for you." He coughed hard trying to regain his breath. "That mare LOVES me. Something you'd know nothing about."

Wordsmith regained his hooves and rounded on the wounded earth pony. "You forget yourself sir! I've romanced more mares than you can count. My tongue and my quill drip with desire. The inner workings of the hearts of ponies are my bread and butter." He shoved Haycarte onto the bed and grabbed the letters. "You who've latched onto this one mare can't accept the fact that she's got better options than you. And the proof is right here." He slapped the acceptance letter down on the table. "Those transfer requests would've taken weeks to process and return. She's been planning this for a while, and the sooner you accept that the sooner you can move on."

"Yes because that's worked so well for you hasn't it? Just toss away mares like so many love letters. Everything is a passing fancy to you. That's what you know of romance and it's disgusting." Haycarte wheezed from his prone position.

Wordsmith'd had enough he swung at Haycartes but his hoof was caught by Sawbones in his magic. He bellowed still in his irrefutable medical command voice. "Enough both of you. Carte, lay down. Smith, Sunday spot, cider, an hour."

The two arguers never broke eye contact. "What was her name Smith? Do you even know?"

"Shut up Carte." Sawbones barked. "Smith go." Wordsmith had been about to reply but the order from Sawbones stopped him. He had heard the slightest but if pain creep into the command and he was surprised to see tears in the corners of the medical students eyes. He knocked the acceptance letter off the table and stormed out. Sawbones sighed heavily and looked back to the bed. Haycartes was gone. He dashed into the hall to find his stricken friend limping away.

"CARTE! Get your ass back here!" He called out, but the stalwart earth pony kept limping away. He trotted up along side him.

"She swore to me. Have to.-" his breath was coming in ragged tears and he couldn't finish.

A splitting pain brought Haycartes to his knees. Sawbones was grinding his hoof into his broken ribs. "You're going to the hospital Carte." He rose and tried to continue, but another firm press and the wounded pony collapsed from the pain. Sawbones sighed heavily, he hoisted the limp pony on to his shoulders and carried him downstairs to the waiting EMTS

Sawbones saw them off and watched them run off down the road for a long while. He'd been woken up, had to yell at his oldest friend, and had to be cruel to help his other friend. He desperately needed a drink. An hour later he was with Wordsmith at their Sunday spot.

Wordsmith was pacing like a caged animal around Sawbones. His complaints echoed across the mountainside. Their usual spot was deserted at this hour so the medical student let the poet vent his frustration. Their usual tradition of Wordsmith drinking four or five of their six packs had been reversed. Wordsmith was too busy cursing his dorm mate to drink, so Sawbones put down his fourth bottle and reached for a fifth. He lay lazily on the grass looking up at the sky, and thought to himself just how nice the stars look at this spot, they'd have to do this more often.

"The nerve of that stallion. Can you believe what he said to me? ME! He gets in one little crush and suddenly he's the expert. The nerve I say." Wordsmith tried to take a swig from his first bottle but a thought interrupted him. "And you saw the letter surely you agree what that means don't you old colt. The nerve of that stallion." He finally took a second sip.

"Yup." Was the medical student's only reply when the poet stopped for air.

"And I mean I didn't say it to dissuade the pony, not to depress him. I love the old colt. He's a good fellow, a profound sense of justice and all that rot. I just didn't want him to do something foalish, or embarrass himself. This is his first love Sawbones, pony's do all sorts of silly things for first loves." That last statement pricked at the other unicorn's slightly tipsy mind.

"You have no idea." He finished his fifth cider.

"That stallion has truly gone too far." He put on his terrible impression of Haycarte's hard voice. "That's what you know of love and it's disgusting. The NERVE!"

"Well he is right you know. You are kind of a dumbass at love." The medical student said grabbing his friends barely touched cider.

Wordsmith was stunned. He stood there mouth agape for several seconds. His oldest friend who'd never spoken an ill word against him had just cut him to his very core. "Excuse you? You? The positively hopeless with the fairer sex. You say that I'm not a romantic."

"I do." He sipped his friends cider to punctuate the point. "Now I grant you're an expert seducer, there's no arguing that, but really my friend, you have no concept of love."

"Has Equestria gone mad, really old colt you-." He was interrupted as Sawbones continued.

"That stallion." He pointed with his bottle. "Smiled three times this semester. Then he meets her and he's not stopped smiling since."

Wordsmith processed this for a second. "Well I mean, I don't doubt that he loves.-"

"While you on the other hand have never slept with the same mare twice." He sipped his drink.

"Now SEE HERE!" Wordsmith snapped to his hooves.

Sawbones looked hard at his friend. "What was her name Smith?"

The poet tried to give a snap response but it hit him that he had no idea. "A rose by any other."

"Oh fuck off!" Sawbones said, finishing his stolen drink. "Smith can't you see? Don't you get it. You don't have a fuckin clue what love is and what Roané has is it! He's willing to be expelled, hell he'd probably move to Prançe to be with her." The medical student got shakily to his hooves. "You talk about love ad nauseum though you never bother to write anything down. You've certainly never had it."

His voice started to crack with emotion. "You've never sat and pined and longed silently in the dark. With them always within reach but never yours." Sawbones trotted a few steps away not looking at his friend.

Wordsmith was dumbfounded. The poet was being schooled in the ways of love by the stallion who was utterly hopeless with the fairer sex. "Well my colt you certainly make it sound like you have."

The medical scrubs green unicorn plopped heavily down onto the grass. "Well the fact that you haven't noticed only proves my point." He picked through the empty bottles, disappointed they were out of cider. "You're a hypocrite of the highest order Smith. A seducer who calls himself a lover."

Wordsmith'd had enough abuse that evening. "Well if I'm such an odious pony to you why do you bother maintaining our acquaintance?"

Sawbones rolled over to face his friend. He gave the poet a look that he instantly recognized. The serious staring look of a pony about to say something terribly flattering. It was a face he'd worn many a time, and it terrified him to see it on his friend now.

"Because you're a beautiful stallion." Sawbones resumed his hooves.

"Because you see the beauty in everything around you." He took a step towards him.

"Because your words move my soul to joy or to some grand action, or to tears" Wordsmith was terrified. Sawbones was playing straight from his playbook like an expert. And what was worse. It was working. He tried to back away from the advancing stallion but his hooves failed him and he sprawled backwards on the grass, hooves raised defensively.

"Because you've always been there for me when I needed you, and you've always needed me. The poet's mind went hazy around the edges.

"Because you've made me the stallion I am today." Sawbones was now standing over Wordsmith, they're faces inches apart.

"Because. . . " It was Wordsmith who grabbed Sawbones face and pulled him down into the kiss.

Author's Note

And then gay things happened

31/40 DJ PON-3 Quits

Neon Lights'd had a hell of a night. He'd had to clear out two hundred ponies. Thank Celestia they were still hyped up about PON-3'S marefriend's strip tease, or there would've been a riot. A packed house had to be emptied at eleven fucking thirty, goodbye juicy commission. PON-3's marefriend had drank something like a hundred and fifty dollars in Haynessy. Oh yeah and there was that little matter of a unicorn FUCKING O.D.ING IN THE FUCKING V.I.P. ROOM. Who the fuck had allowed authorized that? He wondered. Thank Celestia the owner was in Las Pegasus or they may have lost their contract over this.

The guards had of course needed to hear the exact same story five different times. Everypony who worked at the club had been up all night answering questions, most of which were answered. "I dunno?" And on top of everything else. Now PON-3 had written a cryptic letter to meet her on the western balcony. During the day. He'd always hated the sun. Nothing against Celestia mind you, but he was a night pony. Natural light seemed alien to him.

He'd not slept in two days. "But sure let me drop everything and come have a tea party on the balcony with you and your classy bitch." He complained loudly to Royal Blue, who had only tagged along to try to speak more Prench to Octavia.

They saw Vinyl sitting alone on the very edge of the balcony near the railing and she was. "Oh no." She was smoking. PON-3 only ever smoked when things got totally fucked. She'd not smoked since they left Manehattan together. This did not bode well. "Alright PON-3 what's so fucking important you can't just stop by the club?" Neon asked business first as always.

Royal Blue looked around. "Where's Oc-." He was interrupted by Vinyl raising a single hoof. She gestured for them to take a chair. Neon did. Roy sat on the tile floor of the balcony. He didn't want to break the thin spindly chair.

Vinyl put out her cigarette, and Neon noticed the several other cigarette butts. This did not bode well. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute. The two stallions staring at the mare. The mare staring at a point on the horizon. It was a small village. She wistfully thought to herself how nice it would be to live there. With her Octavia. They'd buy a little house dirt cheap and they'd be happy. Just the two of them.

Finally Neon got fed up with the quiet game and repeated his question. "Alright PON-3, out with it. What's the bad news? Give it to me now while I'm in such a cheery mood."

Vinyl was so caught up in her pipe dream she almost missed the question. Neon was about to repeat the question when they heard the softest. "I quit."

Neon went through several different emotions very rapidly. Shock, then rage, then skepticism, then desperation, then finally the wheel stopped back on rage. "Umm no. No you fuckin don't." He scoffed.

"I'm out. I can't do it anymore." She said still not looking at them.

"No! No you fuckin don't. Vinyl don't do this to us." For the first time in as long as he could remember he used her real name. "Don't fuck this up for us just as we get our hooves under us. I have worked TOO FUCKING HARD FOR YOU TO FUCK THIS UP NOW."

Vinyl hadn't moved. She just kept staring at that little village on the horizon. She said nothing now. Neon ground his teeth and threw his chair over the balcony. "VINYL FUCKIN LOOK AT ME!" He screamed. "You're just gonna walk away from everything we've built just got some high class piece of ass. Is that what this is? Can't have the commoners embarrassing her? Well tough shit. I'm not gonna let you walk away from this when I had to kiss the ass of EVERY CLUB OWNER IN FUCKING CANTERLOT to get this gig."

Finally Vinyl turned to look at him. She didn't seem the least bit concerned about what he was saying, her face a perfect portrait of detachment. Neon could see this wasn't working. He sighed heavily and tried to reason with her. "Vinyl for fuck's sake don't do this to me. I. CAN'T. DO. THIS. WITHOUT. YOU! Nopony else is anywhere close to as fresh a DJ as you. I can't make music like you do. I need you!"

She looked him dead in the eye. She levitated her laptop out of her saddle bag and placed it on the desk. "Three hundred songs. All yours."
Neon was dumbfounded. She had just abandoned years of work, and rep building. And for what some piece of ass?

"Vinyl." He had to trot around the table and throw another chair. "VINYL! CELESTIA DAMNIT! Don't give up your whole life for some bitch. She's just gonna get tired of you and find some other classy pony. Then what? You don't just throw away your rep, your career, your life, over some.-"

A foreleg the size of a tree trunk wrapped around Neon's neck cutting off his tirade. Royal Blue had heard enough. No Prancofile could stand for this assault on romance. "The lady." He punctuated every line with a hard squeeze to Neon's neck. "Has chosen.. . . Love. . . Over. . . Her career. And you're. . . Gonna be. . . Fuckin. . . Happy for her." Neon struggled underneath the crushing force of the bouncers leg.

"You're both wrong." Vinyl's voice cut the air. "I'm not doing this for her." Royal Blue released Neon's head in shock.

Neon rubbed his neck angrily but didn't lose sight of the issue. "Then what the fuck Vinyl?"

"I can't do it anymore Neon. I just don't have it in me. Not after that." She finally rose from the table.

"What the thing with the- Oh Vinyl come on! You know that's not what this is about. Bitches OD SO WHAT?" He snapped, throwing his hooves up in exasperation.

"EXACTLY! THAT RIGHT THERE. We're used to it Neon. We're just okay with ponies dropping dead in our clubs. Don't you get how fucked up that is?" Tears started to well up in her eyes. "What are we doin with our lives Neon? What's our plan? Play three shows a week forever? All I do is go to the club get fucked up and go home."

Neon was too business savvy to be distracted. "You're bored with your life? Okay, get a fuckin hobby. We made a deal PON-3. A deal were never gonna fuckin get again. Now you can leave, and lose your contract, your friends, your job, and everything you've worked for. Or you can suck it up, and have your little crisis on your own time." He ran his hooves through his spiky mane. "Damnit Vinyl." He plopped down into a chair he hadn't thrown. "Look I get that you're unhappy, but this isn't gonna help. Your really gonna throw away three years of busting your ass for nothing?"

"I'm not doing it for nothing. I'm doin it for me! For the first time in my life I actually care what happens to me. I wanna actually think about what I want. And it's not this. Getting fucked up every night. It's stupid Neon. It's fuckin stupid."

The unicorn was hopeless. He threw his hooves up in the air but said nothing. He felt a hoof on his shoulder. Vinyl looked him in the eyes. "But I'm not just gonna leave you high and dry. No, we're gonna put on a goin away show like nopony's ever seen. Spread the word. DJ PON-3'S Last show. We're gonna make enough money to buy me out of my part of the contract, and if all goes well, hire some new DJ."

Neon looked hard at her. It was a shitty thing to do, but it was manageable. "And what'll you do." As annoyed as he was with Vinyl she was still his best friend. He had to know.

She walked to the edge of the balcony and sighed. "I'm gonna go find her." She looked back to the dot on the horizon.

Neon put a hoof on her shoulder. "And if she says no?"

Vinyl shook her head with thought. "Anything else. Apparently I've got a really good music memory. I could produce. I could mix. I don't know.I DON'T CARE! But I just can't do this anymore." She walked off to go get ready for tonight.

And then. Who knows.

32/40 Stealth mission

Wordsmith lay facing the night sky, his eyes the size of dinner plates. He was in a very odd way. He had just taken, and been taken by, a stallion, and what's worse. He had enjoyed it. A lot. More so than he was comfortable admitting to himself. A slew of questions racked his brain. What did that make him? What did that make them? What the FUCK was he going to tell his father the Duke of Saddlesbury.

He looked down at the stallion gently sleeping, his head laying against the poet's chest, his foreleg strewn lazily across his stomach, a small smile on his sleeping face. He didn't understand it but he knew he wanted to be there. For reasons he didn't want to process right now, it felt right. He decided all these concerns could wait until later. Right now there was a much easier mystery to solve.

He shuffled out from under his new. "Nope not right now." He stood up and winced at an unfamiliar pain. That was going to take some getting used to. "Come on bones." He cringed at the phrasing. He'd have to find a new nickname for his. "NOPE NOT RIGHT BLOODY NOW!"

Sawbones groggily lifted his head. "What's right now?" He pawed at the spot of grass suddenly devoid of Wordsmith, and pouted slightly..

"Up lad! We have to go see what's all this nonsense with our fallen comrade." He helped Sawbones up to his hooves. He started an awkward lope down the mountainside. He was not sure how he'd ever get used to this.

Sawbones called out after his poet. "Smith?" He sidled up to the other unicorn sheepishly. "Are you. . . okay, with." A hoof on his lips stopped him.

"Dear colt, much has happened in the last few hours. Much too much to process right this second." He tried not to look away from his. "Nope not right now. So let's go deal with this first and we'll discuss. . . that later."

Sawbones stared hard at the other unicorn. Wordsmith looked around not certain of what his. . . blank wanted. The stare intensified and the poet got the message. "Oh really? Right now? You're doing this right now." The stare didn't falter, but a hint of hurt crept into it.

Wordsmith rolled his eyes hard and groaned. "Oh fine damn you!" He gave Sawbones a small peck on the lips. Instantly Sawbones was happy as a lark. He grinned ear to ear as he bounded Pinkie Pie style down the mountainside. "Well somepony's not feeling any ill effect." The poet complained under his breath.

"So where we goin?" The bouncing unicorn asked in a sing song voice.

"Well apparently I've been such an ogre about love, I suppose it's up to me to set this whole bug bear to rights."

"And how're we gonna do that, may I ask."

"Picturesque would've had to have filed for a transfer weeks ago. Yes? Well if she loves him so much, why would she do such a thing?"

"Well maybe it wasn't her. Maybe Daddy dearest signed her up." Wordsmith stopped in his shaky tracks. Grasping Hoof was the Dean of the single most prestigious University on the planet. If anypony could push through a transfer order it was him. He tried to break into a gallop. "Oh I am an AASSS!" He groaned out in pain at the aching from his latter half. His back legs buckled under him.

Sawbones' levity turned to concern. "Smithy are you alright."

Wordsmith teeth ground together with frustration and he shouted, "NO I AM NOT ALRIGHT. I'M CONFUSED, AND SCARED AND MY ARSE HURTS, AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT ANY OF THIS MEANS. AND MY BEST FRIEND'S ABOUT TO LOSE THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE, AND MY ARSE FUCKING HURTS! AND ALL I WANT TO DO IN THE WORLD IS NOT! FUCKING! TALK! ABOUT THIS RIGHT NOW." He whimpered slightly at the ache.

Sawbones blinked away the shock of the tirade and smiled compassionately on his butthurt lover. He cast a pain killer spell he knew. Wordsmith let out the smallest "thank you" as they traipsed down the mountainside.

Picturesque hadn't slept. She'd been up all night crying and trying to write a heart broken farewell to the pony she loved. Every time she would start she'd ruin the letter with tears and have to start over. It was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do.

She heard the smallest tink against her window. She looked at it perplexed of what could've caused the noise when it happened again. She got closer and a third time the sound was repeated and she saw something bounce off of the window.

She saw two unicorns standing on the ground and one was levitating a pebble in his magic. "That's a very odd thing for a pony to do. I should tell them to stop that, before they accidently break the window." She thought to herself. She opened the window and in the least discrete voice ever spoken she called out. "Why are you throwing pebbles at my window?"

Oddity of oddities the two unicorns had the gall to shush her. They whispered something that she couldn't hear. "What? Speak up please I can't.-" The two very odd unicorns shushed her again and then had a very heated whispered argument. One levitated the other in his magic and the deep blue one started to rise slowly towards the window.

"Shhhh! Do you want the Dean to have us both killed? He hissed.

"Why are you throwing pebbles at my window?" She asked in a normal speaking tone, not being aware of the etiquette required for a secret rendezvous, despite her national origin.

"Because we need to speak to you and." Wordsmith began.

"Then why don't you just knock on the door and come inside?" She interrupted.

Wordsmith facehoofed. "These two belong together." He thought to himself. He spoke slowly as one does to a child or to the very dense. "Because it is considered inappropriate for a stallion to call on a lady in the middle of the night, and your father wouldn't allow it. But we need to talk to you so will you come down here please." He gave a strained smile. Picturesque was uncertain. She'd just been attacked by two unicorns and was unsure about going down to talk to two unicorns alone, in the middle of the night.

On the ground Sawbones was gritting his teeth and straining under the weight he was levitating. "No go ahead, don't mind me. Talk all night why don't ya." He looked up to see what the delay was and got distracted. "Smithy's ass looks great by moonlight. Wait why is it getting bigger?" He was met with a face full of the rear end that he'd recently become very acquainted with. Mercifully both were spared him landing on his horn.

Picturesque was disarmed at the sight of one unicorn rubbing his muzzle and the other rubbing his plot, and decided the two meant no harm. She fluttered gently down to them and helped Sawbones to his hooves. “Wait I know you now. You are mon amours bosom companions. He speaks very highly of you!”

Sawbones rubbed the last of the soreness out of his muzzle and answered. “ Yes that’s why we’re here. Why are you leaving Haycartes?”

Picturesque was startled at the notion. “I am doing no such thing!”

“Then why did you transfer to Maresailles?” Wordsmith said finally rising and joining the other two.

“I DIDN’T!” Her ears drooped “Mon pére did. He transferred me without my knowledge or consent. He desires me to be educated in Prançe in accord with mon mére’s wishes.” Her eyes filled with tears.

Sawbones nodded to Wordsmith in silent confirmation of his hunch. Wordsmith continued the inquiry. “Then why in Equestria would you put the acceptance letter on his door?”

Once again the pegasus was in shock. “I would never!”

The unicorns looked at each other and said. “Daddy Dearest.”

Picturesque looked back and forth between the two unicorns in confusion. “ What about mon pére?”

Wordsmith rolled his eyes. “These two really do belong together. My dear it’s no secret that your father is not exactly the biggest fan of your relationship with our dear Roané.”

“He put a copy of your acceptance letter on Cart's door to make him think you were breaking up with him.” The other unicorn explained.

She gasped. “Mon pére would never do such a dreadful thing!”

“Then how would we have heard about it?” The poet asked Plaintively.

Picturesque looked at the ground then back at the two unicorns. “This is all too horrible. What must he think of me?” She put a hoof to her lips.

Wordsmith put a comforting hoof on her shoulder.“He didn’t doubt you for a second my dear.” He said rubbing his sore jaw. “But he would like to know what’s going on.”

She sprang into the air. “Yes I simply must see him!” And with that she was gone.

The two unicorns watched fly off into the distance. “Well Cart certainly owes me one.” Wordsmith said smiling to himself. Sawbones frowned at him. “Hmm? Oh yes, well I suppose you helped AH!”

Wordsmith was startled out of his self praise by Picturesque landing two inches in front of him. He sprang reflexatorily into Sawbones hooves. "Pardonne-moi. But I don't know where he is?" The two unicorns blinked for a moment. It occurred to both of them that neither did they.

The trio set out as fast as Wordsmith could limp to Canterlot General. It was the closest hospital to the University and a logical place to start. They walked into the waiting room and Sawbones stepped forward to ask the receptionist, being of the medical profession he assumed he would be able to talk his way in, but of course we all know what happens when you assume. He waddled away, tail literally between his legs. "What a terribly unhelpful pony." He whimpered.

Wordsmith was indignant. "Nopony talks to my little Boney like that exc.-" Both unicorns blushed furiously at his phrasing. Sawbones looked away bashfully and pawed at the ground with his hoof. Wordsmith scuttled over to the desk and started barking orders in his most imperious Saddlesbury accent. If there was one thing Canterlot ponies respected it was royalty. "My good sir, a dear friend of mine was assaulted and taken away in an ambulance. Now it is of paramount importance that we find him and I'll not take no for an answer. Now I am the future Duke of Saddlesbury and if I am delayed in my search the Duke will hear about this. IS THAT CLEAR?"

The receptionist didn't look up from his magazine. "Though we're not in Saddlesbury are we." He sniffed the air. "What smells like sweat, and sodomy and shame?" He glanced at the poet over his reading glasses. Wordsmith scuttled back to the other two. Sawbones lifted a hoof to speak. "Not right now." Wordsmith whispered.

Picturesque stepped lightly over to the receptionist desk, tears poised to fall in the corners of her eyes. "Pardon me sir, I call myself Picturesque. The stallion I love was savagely beaten this evening, and then was the victim of a lie most cruel. Please good sir, I must see him." She breathed the word again. "Please?"

Instantly the receptionist stood up and took both of her front hooves in his. "I'll take you right to him ma'am." She bowed and the two trotted off. The two unicorn's jaws hit the floor.

They stood in mute astonishment for a while until Sawbones said. "Sh-should we follow them?"

"Well clearly she's got it handled better than we do, and I don't know about you but I need a drink." He started to walk away but the pain from his latter half caught up with him again and he winced audibly.

Sawbones once again cast the mild pain killer spell on his lover and tried his best not to feel proud how bad he had wrecked him. "Better?" he asked.

The other unicorn wrapped his front right around the stallion's front left, to the great delight of Sawbones. "Much." With that the two walked out of the hospital.

Picturesque was led to room 420 and silently slipped inside. She had to choke back tears, seeing him in such a pitiable state. He had several medicated compresses bandaged against his ribs, and he had a respirator tube in his nose. He looked so very tired. She silently slipped over to the bed and wrapped her wings around him protectively. "Oh mon pauvre bien-aimé."

Haycartes didn't open his eyes but he kissed her hoof and rubbed his head against her cheek. His voice was a croak as he said. "Why?"

Picturesque took both of his hooves in her's and pleaded desperately. "My love you know I wouldn't leave you." Haycartes could hear the tears in her voice. "My father transferred me without my knowledge. He says I should be educated in Prançe in accordance with the wishes of my mother." She grabbed his head and held him tightly. "I'm so sorry my love. I'm so sorry." All she could do was weep. She couldn't stand the thought of losing him.

He kissed her hoof reassuringly. "I'm so glad." He breathed.

"But mon amour, why are you glad this is terrible?" She said breathlessly.

Haycartes slowly opened an eye and looked intensely at her. "Will you go?"

Picturesque put her head softly against his chest." What else can I do? I mustn't go against the wishes of my parents but I cannot leave you." She kissed his head and looked tearfully into his eyes. "Please mon amour, what shall we do? To choose between mon pére and mon amour is simply too horrible."

They sat in silence for a long while her head on his chest, enjoying what could easily be their last moment together. No. He would not allow this. Picturesque had sworn never to leave him and she needed him right now. He painfully sat up. "Your devotion to your family is commendable, but you are an adult. You cannot be forced to attend if you do not wish it. We'll talk with your father and convince him to allow you to stay."

Picturesque grabbed Haycartes bodily up and squeezed him shouting. "Merci! Merci! Merci Beaucoup mon amour! I'll have him take me to La Calembour de Cheval Dan's Prançe tomorrow at five. It's the only place in Canterlot to get decent food from my home." The tubes in his nose were disconnected and she didn't stop squeezing him until she heard the smallest gasp of pain escape his throat. She put him back into his bed, red faced, and he eventually stopped gritting his teeth in agony.

Once he got his breathing under control they kissed goodnight. "Remember tomorrow at Five. She whispered as she slowly released his hoof." She was about to shut the door when she heard the smallest voice call out to her. She looked at her stricken lover expecting some parting sweet nothing.

"Please send in a nurse as you go." Haycartes whispered through clenched teeth. Her face went red with embarrassment but she did as he asked. She exited the hospital light as a feather. She flew slowly home spirit soaring. Her problem was solved. She wouldn't have to choose between her lover and her family. Her noble Roané would just convince her dear father to let her stay. All was right in her world.

Oh you poor poor silly pony.

33/40 never gloat

Grasping Hoof the Dean of Royal Canterlot University, had spent all morning barking orders to movers to be careful with his little angels possessions, or he'd have their heads. It never once occurred to them that he was surrounded by twenty big burly earth ponies, as he was accustomed to being obeyed. The only reason they didn't explain to him the value of being polite with their hooves was because they knew they were over charging him by an order of magnitude. So they all gritted their teeth and bore the abuse.

Picturesque spent the morning watching them strip her home worriedly. She didn't care about the trinkets and baubles they were loading into carts. She only cared about one thing of her's, her lover. She paced the floor nervously. What if he couldn't convince him. What if he wasn't allowed into the restaurant. Would she be able to bear the loss of her dear father if she had to choose.

After a full morning and most of an afternoon of agony finally her father came in sweating and exhausted. "Supervising is hungry work my dear. Let's get something to eat huh. Where would you like to go. Oh! How about that nice Neighpon place on the corner. I do so love that trick with the onion volcano." He prattled on.

Picturesque saw her opportunity. "Well mon pére, since I am returning to Prançe, why not La Calembour de Cheval dans Prançe?" Grasping Hoof was unsure. That was the second most exclusive restaurant in Canterlot. The waiting list was outrageous year round, plus he'd heard the princess would be dining there that evening. He could pull strings sure, but this would be a stretch even for him. But if his little filly wanted it, she got it. He nodded and the two entered the Dean's excessively lavish carriage.

They stepped out at the restaurant and both looked uncertain. Picturesque stealthily looked around for her lover, and Grasping Hoof looked uncertainly at the ornate facade of the building, and at the royal guards standing post at the door. Yes the princess herself was there. Maybe he could use this to his advantage he thought suddenly. The princess was his direct superior after all. He glanced down at his little filly who smiled cheerily, though falsely, up at him.

They entered the building and Grasping Hoof breasted up to the host's podium trying to look as important as he possibly could. Tahe host, a fresh faced, though impeccably groomed stallion, greeted them in the language of Prançe. Grasping Hoof rolled his eyes, He could not speak a word of the language and barely understood enough to get the gist of what was ever being said. "Picturesque translate for me please."

Picturesque's eyes lit up. She couldn't believe her luck. "Oi mon pére." She cheerily chirped as she approached the podium.

He blustered in his most authoritative voice. "I am Grasping Hoof, Dean of the princess' private University."

She said in the language of Prançe. " I call myself Picturesque, and I am in desperate need of your help.

The host looked in astonishment between the two ponies. He understood Equestrian common perfectly but it was the policy of the restaurant to speak in the language of Prançe.

The Dean took the host's confusion as a good sign and continued. "Now my little filly here misses her native cuisine and this is the best place in town to get it. Now we will be seated immediately, or I'll march right over there to the princess, my boss, and you'll have to explain why the Dean of her private University can't get a table."

Picturesque "translated." "I have been presented a terrible choice between staying in Canterlot with my beloved or being sent to Maresailles in accordance with the wishes of my parents." She tilted her head at her father who was sucking his distended gut into his chest.

"Now my beloved is an excellent speaker and will convince my father to allow me to stay, but we must get the two together, and this restaurant is the place we have arranged to do so. Now I can tell by your accent you are a native of Gaconeigh, the home region of me and my mother so you know the value of romance." She pointed to the princess who was visible from the podium. "So I beg you in the name of the princess, please give us a table for three that I may not have to be separated from the ponies I love."

The host had tears in his eyes as he nodded. It was his first day on the job, and this could easily get him fired, but there is no higher calling in life for a pony from Prançe than love.
The Dean saw the tears in his eyes and thought he was so scared of him that he was going to do whatever he said. He chuckled to himself under his breath.

He cleared out a table for three within sight of the princess and whispered. "Bonne chance." To Picturesque as he exited. The Dean stopped him with his magic and placed a one hundred bit coin into his pocket.

Picturesque whispered back. "Ce sera un poney de terre brun foncé avec une crinière et une queue grises. Merci."

The Dean wondered about the extra seat but decided he was lucky to have gotten a table and looked through the menu as if he could understand a single word written on its pages. Picturesque kept glancing at the clock and swirled her wine nervously. They'd been seated a full fifteen minutes before five so all she could do was sit there and suffer.

At the appointed time the host heard a hard voice arguing with the guards posted outside and saw a sullen faced, bandage bedecked pony arguing with the guards who denied him entrance. He dashed out to greet him and patted him on the back as he brought him inside. He whispered. "Votre amant et son père sont déjà là. Bonne chance!"

Haycartes only lost a moment with surprise before responding. "Bless you sir." It was the turn of the host to be taken aback. He hadn't expected this very odd pony to respond in the common speech. A pony in love with that beautiful mare from Prançe must surely speak in her language whenever possible. Haycartes trotted off and the host followed him with his eyes. That angel, in love with this sullen, dour, Equestrian common speaking thing? "Tel est l'amour." He sighed to himself resuming his post.

Haycartes trotted up to the two and sat down without speaking. Grasping Hoof coughed up a swig of excellent wine at the sight. "Haycartes! What the Discord are you doing here?" He wiped the wine from his muzzle on his immaculately white sleeve instead of on the table linens like a sensible pony would.

"I'm here to discuss your daughter's education." He said flatly.

"Ah yes, so you got the news." He grinned maliciously. "Yes my dear daughter has decided to seek her education in her homeland. Isn't that right my dear."

Picturesque looked at her father in horror. She was witnessing her father lying for the first time, and it horrified her. She looked at her beloved in desperation. She knew he knew the truth but it was agonizing to be accused of such treachery.

Haycartes could've handled this argument in his sleep. Picturesque is an adult and can be educated wherever she pleased, and if her father refused to pay for it that was his decision. They'd figure it out together. He was about to explain so, but then he caught sight of the face of desperation on his lover's face.

They'd gotten past the phase of his brain breaking when he looked at her, but this was different. He still remembered the attack yesterday and fight or flight syndrome stopped his mental gears stock still. The thinky talky part of his brain panicked trying to get his mouth working again, but the cognitive dissonance of the two forces caused him to sit there, teeth clenched and spluttering.

When Haycartes didn't immediately blow up, he knew. He'd won. It was the most delicious victory he'd ever achieved. He relaxed back in his seat for some long overdue gloating. "Yes as you can see, my little filly has simply made the best choice for herself. To be away from an upstart like you! She's going to Maresailles, to be amongst cultured well behaved ponies, who know TO LISTEN TO THEIR BETTERS AND TO DO AS THEY ARE TOLD!"

Grasping Hoof was gloating so loud that the princess herself could hear, and was considering sending someone to tell him to politely shut the tartarus up. Haycartes ground his teeth, he was in mental agony, every synapse was trying to scream over each other that he needed to do something and thereby prevented him from doing anything.

Picturesque could only watch as the father she thought so highly of proved himself to be a terribly odious pony, and the stallion she loved seemed to have lost his fiery spirit. She was heartbroken. The two stallions she loved the most were both failing her at the most crucial moment. Her head sank and her wings drooped. Her father didn't notice in his self felating ramble, but Haycartes noticed. He saw everything. He saw the terrible thought written by her body language. "He doesn't really love me." This could not stand.

Her despair gave him new will to rebel against mental stagnation. By sheer force of will he forced the gears in his mind to move. Finally a single thought came to his mind. It was hazy at first but as his mind kept moving he saw it more and more clearly. It was the inside of a pub, all his friends were there, the friends he'd made over two semesters of University. The friends that had given the best year of his life.

One had his pint raised. He said something that Roané couldn't understand. The thought became more clear and he saw it was "Wordsmith! Dear old Wordsmith.'' He'd have to apologize for striking him later. Then the mental image turned and he saw. "Celestia! Do I really look that haggard? I need to be groomed."

His memory became crystal clear. He saw himself stand up and raise his pint. "Gentlecolts! I'm Going To STICK. MY. DICK. IN. IT!" Finally his mental gridlock was gone, instead there was a Zen calm and a single minded focus. He knew what he had to do. He stood up quickly but calmly.

Grasping Hoof was startled and his line about how much more clever he is was interrupted. The Dean chuckled to himself thinking the Demon was going to run out of the restaurant in tears. You almost have to feel bad for the stupid stupid pony. Picturesque had no clue what was going on. She watched in silent awe as Haycartes walked silently to her side of the table and stood her up.

Grasping Hoof was too elated from victory to process what was going on. Haycartes gently but firmly pressed his beloved's head down on the table and lifted her plot. He unsheathed himself and rubbed his stallionhood against her marehood a few times eliciting an audible squeak from Picturesque. The firm but gentle hoof didn't move. The squeak had brought the Dean's mind back to reality but he was too horrified to move at the thought. "HE WOULDN'T." He did.

In front of the most elite ponies in Canterlot. In front of the princess herself. In a crowded restaurant. IN FRONT OF HER FATHER. He entered her. He slid himself in. He inserted himself all the way to the base and began making love to her. Grasping Hoof spluttered and started to scramble up from his seat. He had no idea what he, a pony well over the hill, could do against him, a pony in his prime, but it's just what somepony does when somepony is taking advantage of their daughter.

He was about to strike when one word escaped Picturesque's throat. It was the most passionate thing she had ever said, and she said it in the common speech. She shouted. "YES!" Grasping Hoof took a step back in horror. She shouted it again and again and again. Louder and louder as she was ravaged from behind.

The Dean knew in an instant that Haycartes had won. He couldn't say it wasn't consensual. He had the most elite ponies of Canterlot and the princess herself as witnesses that she chose him. He had lost. He had lost everything. Everything that mattered to him. His pride, his ego, and the only pony it could be genuinely said he loved. They were all gone. Because of him. That demon had taken everything from him. He was a broken stallion. He walked blank faced and silent out of the restaurant.

The two lover's didn't notice him leave. They were too focused on each other. Somewhere in the back of Haycartes' mind he thought he'd have to apologize to Wordsmith. This really was terribly pleasant. Picturesque was on cloud nine. It was the most passionate thing she'd ever experienced. The other ponies in the restaurant stared as one stares at a train wreck.

One of the princess' guards moved to stop them but a large white wing shot out to stop him. Celestia, in her centuries of life, had passed through the various stages of perversion. She'd long ago lost interest in juvenile voyeurism, but it was sometimes nice to revisit nostalgia. She had long since learned the Royal art of seeing with her eyes closed, and sipped her tea gently to cover her biting her lip. The faintest trail of drool trailing down her muzzle went unobserved.

The two made love like wild animals unhindered until Haycartes finished inside of her with a loud groan of ecstacy, made odd sounding out of his hard gravelly voice. The princess guards took both parties into custody.

Haycartes was placed in a cell then immediately taken back out of it and transferred to the infirmary. His injuries from the previous night had caught up with him, but he felt no pain. He lay leaned back with his hooves crossed behind his head, a shit eating grin smeared across his face. It had been a very good day for him.

Picturesque spent the night in a cell. For the second time in her life, she cried all night. She had made her choice. She loved Haycartes and had enjoyed what he'd done, but oh what a terrible cost. "Au revior mon pére." She said as she wept. Despite seeing him for the scheming, lying, conniving, gloating pony that he was, her gentle nature still caused her to love him. Poor pony.

34/40 hit that

Octavia ran. Her lungs burned and her breath came in gasps but she couldn't stop running. She galloped pell-mell through the streets of Canterlot. She didn't care where she was going, she just had to get away. Finally exhaustion stopped her and she slumped against the wall, panting hard. She hadn't stopped crying the whole time and tried without success to wipe her muzzle clean.

She looked about in despair. Where could she go? What would she do? She couldn't go back to her dorm, Vinyl would be there. She couldn't go back to work because she knew sooner or later she would show up, "just wanting to talk". There was nothing to talk about. Vinyl was an idiot. A hedonist! "AN UNFEELING BRUTE!" She screamed as she beat the wall with her hoof.

She cast a look around to get her bearings. She had to find a place to actually go. Despite her state of mind she still knew it was inappropriate to make a scene in public. She sat down against the wall and tried to calm down enough to really think. Where WOULD she go. She couldn't go to her gran mére's in Gaconeigh. It was too far and she had no money on her. Her head popped up at the realization.

She knew where she had to go but she wasn't going to like it. Going there meant she'd have to talk about it, and all she wanted in the world right now was to NOT talk about it. She sighed heavily knowing it was the only other place she could go. She would have to go home.

She trudged all the way from Canterlot to the country house several miles outside of the city. It was a very long walk and it started raining for the last two miles. Octavia arrived at her childhood home soaked to the bone and exhausted. Her mother cheerfully opened the door, eyes closed. "Bienvenue chez ~ SACRE BLEU! Mon ma chère fille, que fais-tu ici dans un état si triste?"

The soaked earth pony lunged forward and buried her face in her mother's neck sobbing bitterly, soaking her with tears and leftover rain water. Her mother wrapped her wings and hooves around her darling daughter. While she was genuinely concerned about what drove her daughter to walk all the way to the country house in the pouring rain, it was always nice to be needed as a mother.

Octavia was brought inside and given a luxurious bubble bath and hooficure, much to her embarrassment. Her mother took her pink ribbon she always wore as a bow tie and delicately folded it into her mane. It was immediately removed and placed back in its proper place. Her mother rolled her eyes. "Devez-vous encore vous occuper de votre arc de crinière? C'est adorable"

"You know I prefer it as a bow tie." She said, trying not to whine. "It looks more professional." She straightened her bowtie and nodded that all was right and proper. She joined her mother in the foyer. Each had their usual spirit, her mother with her Chardonneigh, and Octavia with her cognac.

"Maintenant ma chérie, dis-moi ce qui t'amène ici dans un tel état. Le conservatoire ne peut certainement pas être si mauvais." Octavia sighed and swirled her drink thoughtfully. She told her mother all about Vinyl. The whole trek out to the house all she could think about was how terrible the party pony was, but telling the story of the last couple of weeks brought back all the wonderful sweet things she'd done.

She talked of how they'd met, of their first date, the shock at the door. Octavia had to chuckle in spite of herself at her own reaction. She spoke of Vinyl's heroic sacrifice to get her to the concert, of her reaction to her playing. She had to pause for a long moment and take a large sip of her drink to steady herself.

Then she spoke of Vinyl's show, and of the tragedy. She could no longer hold back tears as she related her sweet sweet Vinyl's reaction to an untimely death and how callous it revealed her to be. She couldn't continue. She placed her head in her hooves and sobbed. The pony she still loved so much, how could she be so sweet and yet so unfeeling? It broke her heart to think of it.

Octavia wasn't looking at her mother's face while speaking. If she had she would've been distracted by the pageant of emotions that ran across her face. First confusion at where the story was going. Then shock at the revelation she was talking about a mare. Then astonishment at the way she described her. Then a devious grin at the story of where their first date was. The story was strictly verboten, but it was still a pleasant memory for all that.

She smiled warmly at how Vinyl had let nothing stop her from seeing her daughter's performance. Then as she finished her final emotion was uncertainty. This was out of her depth. She had no idea how to help in this situation. She'd never expected to have to help her daughter with mare trouble, much less a mare of such a disposition.

Octavia looked at her mother through her tears. "What shall I do mother? How can a mare be so sweet yet so?-" She couldn't finish the question for her weeping. She knew she still loved Vinyl deeply, but how could she be with somepony who had no regard for her own life or the lives of others?"

Her mother flew gently over to her and again wrapped her comfortingly in her wings. She spoke softly in the language of Prançe to her and rocked her back and forth. She had no clue how to handle this but knew somepony who might. "My dear, I think you should talk to your father about this sort of thing. He'll probably know how to handle it better."

Octavia looked up into her mother's eyes. She knew she was right, but she had no idea how that conversation would turn out. She'd be convinced to either marey Vinyl, or kill her. She nodded and picked up her cognac. She bowed to her mother and shut the door behind her. Her mother sighed heavily not knowing what was going to happen to get dear little filly. The door immediately opened again and Octavia trotted back in and took the whole bottle of cognac with her.

The head of the fillysophy department at Royal Canterlot University sipped his cider and pondered upon the nature of truth when he heard the dullest thud against his study door, as if somepony was trying to knock with their flank instead of their hoof. He rose and opened the door, only to be delighted at what he saw. "My dear Octavia! What brings you home?" He looked and saw her expression and the mostly full bottle of cognac in her foreleg. "Ah I see."

She looked up at him the most forelorn expression he'd ever seen on her face. "Father may I sit with you in your study? I have much in my mind."

"Of course my dear! Always pleasant to have you about. Come sit." She placed the bottle down in the large cushioned window seat, and a her father resumed his large leather upholstered chair by the fireplace. She sipped her drink in silence and occasionally let out a wistful sigh. He took a large swig of his cider and puffed at his pipe.

He settled in for a nice evening of contemplation and started through his mantra. "I do so love cider. It slows the mental faculties down to where one can really ponder a thought." He exhaled. "To observe it from all sides like a.-" His mantra was interrupted when one of Octavia's sighs blew away his puff of smoke. He lost his train of thought and sipped his cider trying to remember what he was on about.

He tried again but again his puff of smoke was blown away by his daughter's sighs. He reached for his drink and realized it was empty. This was unacceptable. He smashed his glass on the floor and shouted. "OH WILL YOU JUST FUCK HER ALREADY!"

Octavia was speechless. Not necessarily at her father cursing in front of her for the very first time, but at somehow knowing she was thinking about a mare. She started to stammer a reply when he snapped off the question. "Do you love her?"

Octavia was pulled out of her shock and her face fell at the question. She could only weakly reply. "Yes."

"Does she take your breath away and every time you're with her the world seems a better place for it?" He barked.

Octavia put a hoof to her heart and answered ashamedly. "Yes."

"Does she give you a hope for the future and you just can't see a future without her." He said gesticulating wildly as he spoke.

Octavia's felt her heart burning in her chest. She lept to her hooves and shouted. "Yes!"

The pontificator rounded on the lover. "Then what's stopping you?" He said coldly.

She without missing a beat, burst out with tears in her eyes. "Because she's a degenerate who doesn't care if a pony drops dead in her audience!"

"Did she kill her?" He asked without looking away.

Octavia stepped back in surprise at the abruptness of the question. "Well, I mean no but.-"

"Then how is that her fault?" He said in the same cold voice.

"BECAUSE SHE SHOULD CARE!" Octavia screamed at her father." She should hold any value to pony life. She should care if she lives or dies! She shouldn't throw her life away in mindless hedonism." She fell back onto her seat in despair.

"Octavia, she's only adopted the fillysophy of the epicureans, life is but a passing fancy might as well feel good while you're here. Sounds like she's got her priorities straight. And as for throwing away her life you're not one to talk." He quipped.

Octavia perked up at the slight. "Excuse-"

"That mare is going out and experiencing life, while you sit scratching away at your cello all day. Tell me Octavia, in eighteen years how many colts did you bring home? How many friends did you have. Not even a summer fling in Prançe. Let that sink in Octavia. You avoided romance IN PRANÇE, the land of wine romance and bad accordion music!"

Octavia blinked a few times trying to think of a rebuttal. "But she's-"

"Clearly good enough to get the first chair cellist of the Royal Canterlot Fillyharmonic to pine over her. Now go! Take her! Make her yours. If you want her to value life give her something to value!" He stared hard at her.

She got slowly to her hooves. "But how? After everything I said! I even struck her father. I had the gaul to strike my sweet sweet Vinyl. I don't think she'd want to see me after that. I don't think I can face-"

"Oh for the love of Celestia! I BENT YOUR MOTHER OVER IN FRONT OF HER FATHER TO CLAIM HER AS MINE! And I'll not accept this insipid pusillanimity from my daughter! Now go and get her and stop filling my atmosphere with you incessant pining!" He plopped down hard in his chair mood absolutely cleared. "Oh and do bring her over when you get a chance she sounds lovely." He pulled at his pipe.

Octavia stood stunned at what she'd just heard. She blinked a few times to let the shock wear off. The thought of being reconciled to Vinyl seemed like a less unpleasant option than the mental image she had just had put into her mind. She thought about everything else had father had said.

She thought of how much she loved Vinyl, how sure had the capacity to be the sweetest mare in Equestria. How could anypony who could care so much for her not care for herself. Her sense of justice couldn't allow this. She loved Vinyl too much for her to not love herself. She stood up to her full height, a look of determination on her face. "Thank you Father." She said rubbing her cheek on the top of his head, and kissing it gently.

"Alright out with you!" He said smiling. Octavia galloped out of the room, leaving her unfinished cognac on the window seat and the door wide open. Her father sighed. "Silly filly left the accused door open." He reluctantly got to his hooves when he heard his daughter's voice from the other room. "MOOOM FATHER TOLD ME THE STORY OF MY CONCEPTION!"

"THAT TRAAAAITOOOR!" He heard his wife roar. He panicked. He cast his head about for an escape. His wife was flying down the hall straight at him murder in her eyes and a wine bottle in her hoof. He dove out the second story window just before the bottle would've hit him.

"MY LOVE! AH! CALM DOWN! IT- AH! WAS IMPORTANT!" He tried to explain while avoiding projectiles. Octavia galloped right past them. She had a mission. She loved Vinyl and nothing was going to stand in her way.

35/40 vinyl wins (a little too hard)

Octavia arrived at the Mad Mares dance hall an hour after Vinyl's show had started. She saw on the wall posters proclaiming."DON'T MISS DJ PON-3'S FAREWELL SHOW TONIGHT ONLY!" Octavia stared hard at the poster. Where is she going? She saw the line to get in wrapped around the block as she trotted up. Unlike last time though she could only hear the music when the door was opened.

She trotted up to the door and also unlike last time she was stopped by a large blue hoof. "Sorry ma'am can't let you in." Royal Blue said without turning his head.

Octavia hadn't galloped all over Canterlot mountain to be stopped now. Inside the greatest musician in Equestria was throwing her life away and needed to be stopped. She looked up into Royal Blue's face, he finally turned to face her.

She said only one thing, oh but what a terrible thing she said. She said it in a murderous calm, and she said it in the language of Prançe just for him. "Roy, foutre le camp de mon chemin." Roy's eyes went wide. He looked at the intense determination painted across Octavia's face. Without another word opened the velvet rope in complete violation of city occupancy codes, and DJ PON-3'S specific instructions not to let her in.

Inside Vinyl's farewell show was going poorly. The ponies were happy enough, but there wasn't the energy as there should've been. This was a farewell show! Ponies should've been losing their minds and banging on the dance floor, but instead the room had the energy of a back up DJ at a second rate club.

Vinyl worked at her station but nothing was lining up right. She couldn't get the right sound mix she was after. It was hot, she was frustrated, she was about three seconds away from murdering somepony when she locked eyes with. "No." She was gonna beat the shit out of Roy. "Not you! NOT RIGHT FUCKING NOW! What the fuck is she doing here!"

Vinyl ground her teeth. That mare had the balls to show her face here after what she'd said, who cares if she was right. It was still a shitty thing to say. The wound was still too fresh, she was still too mad about it. PON-3 decided to make an ass out of herself. The music quieted to silence and all the lights dimmed. A single spot light shined on Octavia. "GIVE IT UP! FOR THE FINEST BITCH IN THIS PLACE!"

The whole crowd turned as one to look at the stunned earth pony. A few uncertain cheers rang out. "Ya wanna know what this bitch called me today?" Octavia frowned, she was really doing this. She was really going to be this petty. She sarcastically reconsidered being reconciled. "This bitch said I'm basic." A chorus of boos rang out, and a mostly empty cup bounced off of Octavia's leg.

"Apparently she doesn't-" Vinyl made air quotes with her hooves. "Approve of my lifestyle." The chorus of boos rang out again and somepony in the crowd said something terribly vulgar. "So babe, if I'm such a skank, why are you here? Shouldn't you be at some high class ball or at some simp pony?"

"VINYL!" The DJ had to step back at the volume Octavia was able to summon without a microphone. "YOU ARE AN UNEDUCATED, VULGAR, CRASS DEGENERATE WHO DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT A SYMPHONY IS!" Several ponies in the crowd whispered to each other asking who this Vinyl pony was.

Octavia marched towards the sound station ignoring the crowd. "HALF OF YOUR VOCABULARY IS PROFANITY, YOUR METHOD OF MAKING LOVE IS BEYOND DISGUSTING, AND YOUR LIFESTYLE." She let the word hang in the air for a moment. "WILL LEAD TO AN EARLY! UNMARKED! UNMOURNED! GRAVE!" Vinyl's expression softened with every word. This mare had a power over her she couldn't resist.

"AND I CANNOT ALLOW THE GREATEST MUSICIAN IN EQUESTRIA TO BE WASTED TO THE PAGES OF HISTORY!" Vinyl was stunned to find tears in Octavia's eyes. "I WANT TO GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR! I LOVE YOU VINYL SCRATCH!

The crowd went awed loudly and somepony called out something terribly sentimental. Vinyl hung her head and ground her hooves into the carefully calibrated sound equipment. This bitch. This unbelievable cunt. She just couldn't let her be mad. She couldn't let her have her grand romantic gesture. No. If she was gonna crash her party she was gonna pay for it.

Vinyl raised her head slowly, toothy grin splitting her face. All she said was. "Prove it." The crowd went nuts. Octavia charged the sound stage and lept at the DJ. Vinyl grabbed her lover in her magic and the cellist tackled her with the momentum. Vinyl's horn glowed and the music sprang to life. The crowd roared with applause and the party went several types of wild.

Vinyl's hoof went between Octavia's back legs and her back arched. The rest of the world faded away and all that existed was her lover and her hooves. She felt a heat build in her face as Vinyl rubbed her marehood. If this mare was gonna interrupt her but show she was gonna pay for it. Vinyl silenced the music right as Octavia climaxed and her scream of pleasure echoed through the club. Every single unicorn's horn gave off a small static jolt.

The mood was finally restored, the next two hours flew by in a blur of thumping bass and moaning voices. Vinyl went through everything that could be taught without her little box of tools. Hooves, tongues and a horn went everywhere, and the sound stage would need the deepest clean in history. After two entirely too short hours Vinyl's set was over and the crowd cheered loudly.

Vinyl didn't even give a farewell address. The second she knew her set was over she galloped to the V.I.P. room and grabbed her spare tools. She carried them in her magic as she and Octavia sprinted across the road to Octavia's dorm room. They kissed deeply as they stumbled over each other down the hall.

Vinyl slammed Octavia's dorm behind her and was about to cast the noise cancellation spell, but a hoof on her horn stopped her. "No!" Octavia held Vinyl's head. "I WANT THEM TO HEAR!" If they were gonna keep her up with their moaning, she was gonna keep them up with her fuckin moaning.

The spare tools were levitated out of the box and Octavia felt something enter her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her mind went blank. The last two hours were nothing compared to this. Vinyl slid the other end of the object into herself and the two ground against each other forcing the object deeper into each other. Octavia slammed herself against her lover passionately.

Vinyl was shocked at the earth pony's appetite. She decided she deserved a little treat. A small plastic device levitated of the bed and Vinyl twisted the end. It began to vibrate and she levitated it against her lover's marehood. Octavia shuddered at the sensation and bucked her hips wildly at the stimulation.

With an earth shattering shiver Vinyl disconnected from her lover. All the hurt feelings, waiting, and sexual tension was gone. She was utterly satisfied. All four legs quivered. She panted heavily, utterly satiated. Which is why she was very confused when she felt her back legs lifted and placed beside her ears. Octavia slid the marital aid back in and mounted her lover, using her body weight to grind harder against her lover's marehood.

Vinyl was very experienced with matters of sexual intercourse. She'd had party freaks, big bouncer types, and on one occasion a train of zebras. This was on a completely different level. Octavia had a sexual hunger greater than anypony she'd ever known. Everytime Vinyl stopped and tried to say it was time to stop get lover's marehood would be pressed against her mouth and her own marehood would be assaulted by the amorous earth pony.

For four more hours. Four long uninterrupted hours of licking, and biting, and grinding, and screaming and shuddering. Vinyl had gotten more than she had bargained for. They made love until the first rays of Celestia's sun creeped in through the window. With one final earth sending shudder Octavia finally slumped off of her lover, and passed out.

Vinyl had been unconscious for the last half hour.

36/40 after glow

Grasping Hoof, Dean of Royal Canterlot University, sat at his large, expensive, ornately carved desk head held in his hooves. His entire world had been shattered. After a life spent drawing in anything he wanted to himself, the one thing he actually cared about had been stolen from him. His dear darling daughter Picturesque.

He knew that after what she had done he could never look at her again. He turned her picture on his desk down and sat in shocked silence for several hours. She was still his little filly and he was still her father, but he couldn't ever stand to look upon her again. He had to provide for Picturesque and her. . . He couldn't bring himself to finish the thought. Slowly several pieces of paper started levitating and quills scratched solemnly on them.

He wrote two letters, signed an official looking scroll, took a key off of his ring, and sighed. He couldn't stand to be here anymore not with HIM here he couldn't. He resigned as Dean of RCU effective immediately. He summoned a runner and departed the college he'd ruled with an iron hoof for the last time. He would never see RCU again. He boarded a train for Trottingham and never returned.

But more on that later.

Picturesque had spent the night in her cell alternatively crying and worrying. Suddenly a guard appeared at her door and wordlessly handed her a large letter and stood aside. She exited the jail in a daze not remembering the letter. It was the first night she had spent away from home and now she had no idea where to go.

Could she go home? How would she face her father? Where was her lover? Still in his jail cell? How would she get him out? Who had bailed her out? Surely not her father. She sat down on the pavement, and the letter held in her foreleg finally registered in her mind. She broke the wax seal and a large brass key dropped onto the pavement. She picked it up and registered what it was. She sank into tears. The weight of what was written crushed her. "Merci mon pére. Merci"

Haycartes wasn't particularly concerned about his incarceration. He'd broken the law and now he was paying for it. There was nothing he could do about his situation from inside a jail cell so he didn't bother worrying about it. For now, the cell was comfortably climate controlled, the jail food was good, and the other ponies in the large holding cell didn't want to bother him. A pony covered in scars and bandages, no thanks.

The guard called out "HAY CARTS!" Roané rolled his eyes at the classic mispronunciation. "YOU BEEN BAILED. 'ERE." He handed a letter to the jailbird. He snapped it open and read quickly as he walked out of the jail. His face grew in shock and anger as what was written sank into his mind. He finished reading as the door closed behind him and his voice echoed off the front of the jail. "THAT SON OF A BITCH!"

Picturesque heard his shout and flew over to him wrapping her hooves around him and crying deeply. He stroked her mane comfortingly. "Mon amour look!" She presented him her letter and he read quickly.

He sighed heavily at what the letter meant. He held her tight. "I'm so sorry my love, but you made your decision, and he.-" Roané sighed again. "He's made his." He looked again and thought. "I suppose you should see this." He presented his letter, and she read slowly. After a while she looked at him in confusion. "Oh mon pére." She cried again and Haycartes held her close, they crumbled their letters against each other's backs.

Picturesque crumbled a letter congratulating Haycartes in achieving the coveted position of head of the fillysophy department at Royal Canterlot University. Haycartes crumpled the deed to the Dean's country house. It was Grasping Hoof who had bailed them both out. He had provided her with a permanent home, and him with a job to provide for her.

They stopped by the University to pick up Haycartes only possessions, his saddlebags and the pipe he'd been given by his dear friend Wordsmith. He looked about for the poet on the way to his dorm hoping to apologize for striking him, even though he had deserved it, but neither him nor Sawbones were to be found.

They then went to the Dean's penthouse suite and saw the movers already taking Picturesque's things to her new home. The two walked slowly to the train and rode in silence to her new country house. Picturesque clung to her lover. Haycartes stewed thinking of how to act. They arrived at the pegasus childhood home that had taken on a whole new and terrible air in light of what had happened. Picturesque led Haycartes to the large foyer. She went to the large bar, got herself a glass of wine and sprawled out on the large window seat.

He was terribly pleased to find a large keg of Apple family cider. He poured himself a mug and joined her on the large bench. They sat in silence for a long while letting the situation sink in. Picturesque laid her head on his lap and Haycartes sipped his cider. Eventually Picturesque fell asleep and Haycartes gently removed himself from under her.

He paced the halls lost in thought. His wanderings led him to the Dean's study. He sat down unthinkingly in the large chair and stared at the empty fireplace. Suddenly the thought struck him of how many times he'd argued an issue with Wordsmith over a pint and a good smoke. He ran through the halls having to stop every time he hit a dead end. "Why would a pony build a house so large you get lost in it?"

He tiphoofed into the foyer where Picturesque was still sleeping where he'd left her and retrieved his pipe. He silently refilled his cider and after another few turn arounds made it back to the study. It was dark by the time he got back so he decided to start a fire in the large fireplace. He lit his pipe and noticed just how little the smoke moved in the still air of the study.

The words of his friends suddenly came to him. "I do so love cider. It slows the mental faculties so that one may truly ponder a thought." He looked again at the puff of smoke that had barely moved. "To observe it from all sides like a puff of smoke in still air." He sat and pondered the issue. He drank his cider and puffed on his pipe, just thinking about the issue all through the night until the first rays of dawn came through the large windows.

He walked to the window and watched the sunrise still lost in thought when suddenly the answer became clear. He found his mare still asleep on the window seat where he'd left her. He stood and stared at the pony he loved sleeping peacefully in the golden light of dawn. Her name was well suited to her as she was perpetually photogenic, even when asleep.

He gently roused her and explained what he had to do. She sank visibly at his conviction. "But my love, can't we just let sleeping dogs lie? He did it because he loves me."

Haycartes' hard look was tempered with affection. Instead of the scowl such an idea warranted, he only looked at her with firm determination. "My love, such injustice, cannot be allowed to stand." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm going. I don't know when I'll be back but I cannot let this happen. And now." He crumpled the congratulatory letter in his hoof. His voice was hard and cold and deep with conviction.

"Now I have evidence."

37/40 gallop away with me my love

Octavia's mind roared into consciousness through a fog of agony. Her head throbbed, her throat burned, her eyes were stuck shut. She tried to move but she was stuck bodily to the sheets. She forced her eyes open and peeled herself from the bed, sliding onto the floor. All four of her legs screamed with soreness. She couldn't stand fully. She dragged herself half blind to the bathroom and held her face under the sink, drinking greedily.

She let the water run over her mouth and face until the burn in her throat subsided and she collapsed against the sink. Slowly her mind swam into focus, and the events of the night slowly returned to her. The soreness she felt suddenly took on an endearing quality. Finally she stood up and limped back into her bedroom. "Sorry love I was just~" She stopped when she noticed that her reconciled lover wasn't in the bed.

Octavia stared at the empty bed, her mind reeling. That's just not possible. Not after last night. Not after what Vinyl had said while they made love. Was it all a trick? Had she still been mad and just used last night as some cruel joke? Have some fun with her then disappear? She remembered the posters. "PON-3'S FAREWELL SHOW." Had she done something foalish?

Octavia couldn't run both from shock and soreness. She walked slowly in a daze out of her dorm, staring straight ahead lost in thought. She was pulled from her stupor by an unfamiliar smell, cigarette smoke. She turned slowly to see the early afternoon sunlight shining off of a snow white coat. Vinyl's electric blue mane blazed brilliantly in the blinding glow.

Octavia was dumbstruck for a few moments with the vision. It was the first time she'd seen her lover in direct sunlight. Combined with the flood of endorphins from last night, Vinyl was the single most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She hadn't run off. She'd waited. She was here. She was her's. Octavia couldn't contain herself anymore and shouted her lover's name as she tackled her.

Vinyl groaned at her aching muscles as she levitated both of them onto their hooves and gave Octavia the smallest peck on the lips. "Hey babe. You're up. Hurry 'n shower I'm hungry." She lit another cigarette. Not exactly the welcome Octavia was expecting.

She stepped awkwardly away a few steps before brightening. "Won't you join me?" She said in her most seductive voice.

Vinyl exhaled a puff of smoke as she said. "Already did." In her flattest voice.

"Oh." Octavia said slightly deflated. She raised a hoof to ask if Vinyl was alright but decided against it. She showered quickly and the warm watered soothed her aching everything wonderfully. She rejoined her lover outside, Vinyl hadn't moved from her spot. The only evidence that any time had passed was the pile of cigarette butts on the curb.

"So love where to?" Octavia chirped. Vinyl didn't answer merely nodding her head to the side. The walked away slowly and the cellist followed alongside. "Um love?" She said shyly presenting a hoof. Vinyl took the proffered hoof, but still her face was sullen and contemplative. They walked in silence all the way to the Cliff Face Cafe on the western balcony of Canterlot.

Vinyl finally spoke just enough to order coffee and Octavia had an Earl Neigh tea. They sat at a table right on the balcony overlooking the vast plains of Equestria. "It's a lovely view." Octavia said trying to get a conversation started, to no avail. Vinyl just grunted in agreement as she stared at a point on the horizon, her head lazily propped against a hoof.

There they sat, for an hour or more. Octavia would sip her tea in silence, and Vinyl would smoke cigarette after cigarette. Every time she would extinguish one she would look at Octavia like she was going to say something, but then looked like she thought better of it and just lit another cigarette. Octavia drank glass after glass of tea, but Vinyl's coffee was long since cold.

It was agonizing to Octavia. They'd just been reconciled hadn't they? They were supposed to be living happily ever after right. Yet here they were sitting in uncomfortable silence. She desperately wanted to know what was on her lover's mind, but it seemed inappropriate to pry, as if Vinyl had to find her way to broaching the subject. All she could do was sit in silence, sip her tea, and stare helplessly at the pony she loved.

Vinyl finally said something as if talking to herself. She still stared out at the horizon so Octavia had to listen hard to pick up what she was saying over the mountain breeze. "Just her 'n me in our shitty little house. Just the two of us where nopony knows our name." She rested her head on the balcony as she spoke. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

Octavia finally realized that Vinyl hadn't been looking out over the expanse. She was looking at a specific point on the horizon. She followed her lover's gaze and identified the small village of Ponyville. "What in Ponyville?" Vinyl automatically responded with a grunt.

"Yes that'd be lovely. That's where father gets his cider. I already know a few ponies there so finding a house wouldn't be difficult at all."

Vinyl's head popped off the railing. "Wait what?"

"Yes and the cost of land is so cheap down there that we could probably just build our own." Octavia said more to herself.

Vinyl shook her head to clear her mind. This was moving way too fast. Living in the little village on the horizon with her classy bitch was a pipe dream. Octavia was making sound entirely feasible. "Babe wait we can't."

Octavia didn't hear. She was genuinely excited at the prospect now. "You just did a farewell show so you're free, and I could just quit the Fillyharmonic and the conservatory."

Vinyl grew genuinely anxious. "BA-HABE! You- you can't just-"

Octavia simply went on unhearing "And I've already been paid for my first month at the Fillyharmonic, and you said you've got some bits saved up from your contract so."

"BABE! YOU CAN'T JUST QUIT YOUR LIFE! CELESTIA DAMNIT!" Vinyl rose and shouted, spilling her cold coffee. She walked a few paces away and sighed heavily. "Babe you can't just drop everything for a pony you barely even know! I know next to nothing about you and you don't know shit about me."

Octavia was overjoyed that Vinyl was talking again. "You did. You just quit your job at Mad Mares for me did you not?"

"I didn't do it for you." Vinyl sighed heavily. "You were right. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I needed something besides the party. I can't live like that anymore." She was lifted bodily off of her hooves as Octavia dipped her low and kissed her deeply. Vinyl saw tears running down her lover's face but the mouth against her's was kissing her through a smile. Vinyl struggled to break away. "But- but babe I said I DIDN'T do it for you."

Octavia wiped the tears from her face. "I know love, but I wanted you to live for something. I'm so happy Vinyl." She kissed her again more gently this time, still kissing through a smile. "And we've got time love. We've got time to get to know each other. I'd love to get to know you." She looked away and blushed slightly. "Verbally I mean."

Vinyl's horn arced slightly at the unexpected innuendo. "No! None of that. My pussy's still on fire thanks to you. You go first. Who the fuck are you then?"

Octavia chuckled at the effect she had over her mare. "Well I was born in Mareseilles in Prançe. My father is Sir.-"

Vinyl coughed hard at the title. "Sir! Your father's a sir?" OH for FUCK'S SAKE Babe! Are you like royalty or some shit? Are you like arranged marriaged or some such bullshit? Cause I'll kick his ass, I don't give a fuck who it is."

Octavia chuckled. "No love knighthoods don't work like that. My father was knighted for service to the princess, I can't remember quite what for, but it's not a hereditary title. I'm not royalty."

Vinyl signaled for some more coffee as she didn't feel the need for cigarettes with the improved mood. "Well you're a princess to me."

Octavia blushed at the complement. "Oh Vinyl you really are too sweet." The two spent the next hour in a golden haze. This is exactly what Octavia wanted. Just to talk to the mare she loved. She spoke about her childhood, her summers at her grandmother's estate in Maresailles. She talked about her family, and her private tutors. She talked about how music had shaped her life and how she'd gotten her cutie mark the second she picked up her very first one quarter cello as a filly.

Vinyl laughed raucously at the story of Octavia getting her job at the Fillyharmonic. "Wait so you just strutted the fuck in and said 'BITCH GIMME A JOB?'"

Octavia chuckled at the thought. "No no no. I just exhibited my musical prowess, and Lord Fortissimo offered me a job."

"Yeah sure, let's call it that babe." She leaned back in her seat and sipped her coffee.

Octavia smiled as the history had now reached the best part. "And then I met a beautiful mare. And I fell in love. And it's been the most wonderful time of my life."

Vinyl's face grew beet red as she looked away pouting. "dondodat." She muttered.

Octavia donned a mischievous grin, and she rested her head on a hoof. "Ne fais pas quoi?"

"DON'T YOU FUCKIN START!" Vinyl snapped, face glowing red.

Octavia laughed hard at her lover's embarrassment. She wiped a tear from her eye and got her breath back. "Well now that you've heard my history, I'd love to hear your's. Tell me, who are you Vinyl Scratch?"

The unicorn's face resumed its normal hue. She sat back in her chair and sighed deeply. She resumed her vigil of the small dot of light on the horizon. They sat in silence for several moments. Vinyl's magic started to levitate a cigarette out of the mostly empty pack, but a grey hoof stopped it. "Vinyl please don't."

Vinyl looked sadly at Octavia. "Please love, don't shut me out. I'd like to get to know you. I love you." She pulled Vinyl's hoof to her lips and kissed it. "You're the finest musician in Equestria, and the sweetest little pony I know." She tugged at Vinyl's cheek. "Nothing you can say will change that." She held Vinyl's hoof tight. "Please?"

Vinyl took a deep breath and Octavia heard her holding back tears as she did so. "My name is Vinyl Scratch. I was born in Manehattan, I'm not actually certain when." Octavia's eyes went wide. How does a pony not even know how old they are. Two sentences in and already shocked. We're off to a great start.

"My mom always acted like I was a mistake. Like everything wrong in her life was my fault. That's the one thing I remember about her is she was always, Always, ALWAYS mad. She'd just spend all day every day bitching. We'd move from place to place and she'd get shitty coltfriend after shitty coltfriend." A tear trailed slowly down Vinyl's muzzle.

"I'd always hide in my room listening to my music as loud as it would go, and when I wasn't in my room I would always act like a scared dog around her. As I got older I'd just spend less and less time at home. If she was up I'd be out. I'd just wander the streets at night, and if I came home and I heard she was still up, I'd just turn right around and go back out."

"But then." A sad grin split her face. "I snuck into my first club. I hid in the back Hall for the first bit just jammin out to the music, but I couldn't resist. I looked at the dancing ponies and you know what I saw? Everypony was happy. How? How could two hundred ponies be that happy all at once? I looked and saw the DJ. She was making music that made ponies happy. I was hypnotized, I had to know how somepony could do that."

"I just walked straight up to her and asked how it worked. She thought I was somepony's little sister or somethin so she let me in the booth with her. Better 'n bein on the dance floor anyhow. She showed me how all the buttons n turntable worked as she played her set."

"Well something just didn't feel right ya know? Like it just needed a little extra somethin. I started making suggestions like level out your treble and speed up the beat. Son of a bitch if she didn't let me take over. She was cool." Vinyl sat for a moment smiling sadly at the memory.

"Well I'd never even seen a turntable before but it just felt so right. Like this is where I was meant to be! Instantly I knew what I was doing and the crowd ate it up." Vinyl's voice rose with excitement. "The fuckin DJ held my ass up and the whole crowd went nuts. Everypony was like Aaah." She giggled as she made the sound effects. Octavia was glad to see the joy in her lover's face at the memory.

"But that was It ya know." Vinyl's ears drooped. "That was the first time I ever made anypony actually happy. It felt great. It was the happiest I'd ever been." The tears flowed freely as she spoke. "A whole sea of smiling faces all cheering because of somethin I did."

"N the DJ was like 'let's hear it for the DJ pony!' N that's how I got the name. I changed the Y to a three cause I'm a cool kid." Vinyl rolled her eyes.

"Yes I've been meaning to ask about that. If you say the three doesn't it ruin the joke of spelling it PON-3 instead of PON-E?" Octavia asked.

Vinyl facehoofed. "Yes babe. That's the joke. It's ironic." She inhaled sharply and continued. "Anyway, after that I never went back." Octavia's eyes grew wide again. She couldn't seriously mean. " I changed my mane style to look older, 'n just hung out at clubs doing anything I could. I'd bar back, I'd sub a DJ, I'd work sound tech. Anything I could get my hooves on."

"I'd spend the night with anypony I could." She grinned again. "Then I'd raid their fridge on the way out. And it's been great. Somehow I met Neon and it's just been me n him ever since." Vinyl stopped when she noticed Octavia silently sobbing. She came around the table and put a foreleg around her mare. "Babe what's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry Vinyl. I had the gall to criticize you after everything you've been through." She wrapped her forelegs around Vinyl. "I'm so sorry."

Vinyl lifted Octavia's head up to look her in the eyes. "Is cool babe." She gave Octavia a small kiss, then held her close. "Yeah that's why I got so pissed when you were talkin shit." She sighed heavily. "But that's just it. It pissed me off cause you were right. All that time I wasn't livin. I was just ignorin the bad shit. I didn't care, 'n well." She kissed her mare's head. "You made me care. . . . Bitch."

Octavia could help but laugh and the two sat there laughing in each other's hooves. Octavia looked to the small village of Ponyville in the waning light of the early evening. "Love?" Vinyl grunted in acknowledgement. "We're you serious about living in Ponyville?"

Vinyl disconnected gently and sighed. "Nah babe." She sighed again. "Just a stupid thought."

"No love!" Octavia took Vinyl's hooves in her own. "Don't say that. It sounds wonderful! Just the two of us in our own little home. Ponyville's a lovely little village."

"But babe you can't just quit school. Not,-" Vinyl shook her head and sighed. "Not for me. N what about your job? You work for the princess don't ya?"

"The Royal Canterlot Fillyharmonic is owned by the princess but I don't work directly for her. I work for Lord Arpeggio Fortissimo. And I only work there to pay for the conservatory."

Vinyl's eyebrow raised high on her head. "You work for the princess to pay to go to music school?"

Octavia rolled her eyes. "Hello father when did you get here." Her eyes went wide. "Apropos Love, umm there's somepony I want you to meet."

Vinyl was slightly worried. She asked jokingly. "Should I be scared?"

Octavia thought for a second. "A bit yes. Come on I'll explain on the way."

"Wait babe where the fuck we goin?" Vinyl said being all but dragged along by her lover.

"Well I have to quit work and school, then we have to catch the train." She thought angrily to herself. "I am not bloody walking all that way again."

Vinyl stopped. "Babe I said don't fuckin do that!" She stomped a hoof and looked away.

Octavia stepped back to her taking her in her forelegs. She kissed Vinyl solemnly. "But I just met the single greatest musician in Equestria. Why would I want to go back? You're all I want now love, just you and me and that little house in Ponyville."

Vinyl melted into her lover's embrace. They stood there wrapped in each other's forelegs, the whole world around then forgotten. She wiped the tears from her eyes with her muzzle. "Well then.-" She put the sunglasses down on her face. "Bae gets what bae wants." They started off at a gallop but Vinyl stopped hard again.

"BABE WAIT! We have to stop by the club!" She started off towards her work place. Octavia was confused but followed. They arrived and Vinyl bucked in the door. "AY ROY! WE'RE GOIN TO PRANÇE! MOVE YOUR ASS!" There was an audible whooping sound from within and the wall of the club exploded outward in a royal blue haze.

Octavia raised an eyebrow. "Love I never said we were going to Prançe."

Royal Blue was crest fallen. Vinyl looked confused. "What? But you said you were born in Prançe!"

"Yes I was born in Prançe but I was raised just outside of Canterlot, it's just an uncomfortably long walk." She felt the soreness of her legs as she spoke.

Vinyl shrugged her shoulders. "Well I said I'd get him a week in Prançe and I meant it." She tilted her head. "Common bitch!"

Roy crushed both of them in a foreleg as he shouted, "ALLONS Y!"

The three stopped by the Fillyharmonic first. Octavia signaled for the two to wait outside. She slowly entered Lord Arpeggio Fortissimo's large office knocking at the open door with her hoof. He roared with joy at seeing her. "AH THERRRRE'S MY LITTLE IMPRRROVISATORRRI! My dear you did simply wonderful! And I've got some exciting news." He pulled an official looking scroll from a stack of papers. "The prrrrincess herrrself has perrrsonally invited you to play at the GRRRRAND GALLOPING GALA!"

Octavia put a hoof to her mouth. "My word! I'm honored."

"SPLENDID!" He shouted as he scribbled something onto the scroll then cast a spell on it. It disappeared in a puff of smoke. "It's on its way! Now I just need to assign a tubist, a pianist, and a harpist!"

Octavia wondered in the back of her mind. "Who would ever put those sounds together and why?" But she merely said. "I happen to know the very best of each, and I can personally vouch for their merit."

"MARRRVELOUS! He took another scroll, and presented it to her. She wrote the names Deep Tones, Ivory Keys, and Harpo on it. He cast the spell again and the message was on its way. "Splendid simply splendid! Now what can I do for you mio caro?"

"Well my Lord I should like to resign from your fine orchestra."

Lord Arpeggio Fortissimo's smile didn't falter, but his face changed from it's normal pale green, to paper white, to red, to purple. He began to shake. "Excuse me? You want to what?" Vinyl could hear his teeth grinding all the way from in the hall. He inhaled to let loose a torrent of abuse but Vinyl stepped into view. The words died in his throat and he stared in terror at the unicorn.

"Yes I'm afraid I must resign my position as first chair cellist, I'm moving to Ponyville you see. So I wouldn't be able to guarantee my ability to reliably commute for practice. I'm terribly sorry about the inconvenience." She said unaware of the death glare coming from behind her.

Fortissimo was in an agony of rage and terror. He couldn't let the cellist who made the princess herself cry with her playing leave his orchestra, but he was genuinely terrified of the white unicorn with the blood red eyes. He tried to rally. "But mio caro, you just said you would play the gala. Y-y-you can't just.-"

"Oh me and my dorm mates will certainly perform at the gala, but that will be independent of this organization."

Fortissimo's eye twitched violently at the words ''dorm mates''. This pony. This mare who had humiliated him in front of his subordinates, then made herself a legend, just convinced him to sign her school mates to the highest social event in the land. "My dear, you simply mustn't.-" Vinyl signaled to Royal Blue, who brought his hulking frame into view, as much as could be seen through the doorway that is. Fortissimo's terror increased by an order of magnitude. ". . . WORRY ABOUT A THING. WE'LL CERTAINLY MISS YOU. GOOD LUCK ON YOUR FUTURE ENDEAVORS. CIAO NOW." He ducked under his desk for terror.

Vinyl nodded and the two slipped back into the hall. Octavia stepped forward and shook hooves with the quivering pony under his desk. "Thank you so much for the opportunity sir." He said nothing, eyes fixed on the doorway. She bowed and exited the room.

He waited until the sound of retreating hoofsteps died away, then flipped his desk in a blind rage. He bucked all about the room swearing sulfurously. Pianissimo came around the corner holding a bundle of sheet music and saw the display his boss was making. He sighed and made the wisest choice of his career. He caught the first train back to Itailia. He would never again see the Royal Canterlot Fillyharmonic or Lord Fortissimo again, and he couldn't have been happier.

The three galloped back to the conservatory, the hole Royal Blue had put in the wall of Mad Mares was visible all the way across the street. Vinyl couldn't help but look around at the elegant buildings and feel a pang of guilt at causing her mare to want to give all of this up. Octavia stopped at her dormitory only long enough to grab some bits and scribble a letter to her gran mére explaining the signal service Roy had done them.

Thankfully Harpo was with her dorm mates and she told them all they'd be playing the grand galloping gala. They did not take it well. She then told them she was leaving the conservatory. They were all stunned. Then she told them She was moving to Ponyville to be with Vinyl. They exploded. The girlish squeal of Harpo and Deep Tones was deafening. Octavia being in a hurry left them on a good note.

They galloped off to the Cordial Chords String sectional where High Strung was annotating some music. "Umm Sir?" High Strung didn't look up. "I'm afraid I'm leaving the conservatory."

"Bye." Was all he said. Vinyl put on her trademark "Fuck you fight me." face, but Octavia put a hoof out smiling. That was just his way. They galloped out of the building and one word echoed in the silent sectional. "Dumbass."

They galloped to the train and Royal Blue was given the letter of introduction to Octavia's grandmother, a few bits, and instructions on what to do upon arriving in Calneigh. He crushed them both in a massive bear hug then galloped off giddy as a school filly. Octavia coughed to get her breath back. "That pony's going to stick out like a sore hoof. I just hope his grasp of the language is good enough to make it to Mareseilles without issue."

"Fuck 'im. I said I'd get 'im a week in Prançe and I did. Now we gotta hurry or we're gonna miss the last train to.-" Vinyl had to stop for a moment. "Wait, where the fuck are we goin?"

Octavia sighed hard. "Home."

38/40 Haycartes cleans house

Princess Celestia, sun goddess of Equestria, and sole ruler for the last thousand years nodded her regal head at the dignitaries from Griffonstone. Her senior advisor Artiquitus appeared silently next to her, as was his way, and levitated his clipboard over to her. "And that's the last one your highness. And fifteen minutes earlier than yesterday."

The Princess rose and stretched. Her days always started before dawn, since she caused the dawn, and fifteen minutes was a rare gift. "You may close the court gentlecolts." She said to the two unicorn guards at the large doors. They started to close them, but Celestia saw somepony sitting on the long waiting benches outside her court.

"Hold!" Celestia called out. She spoke softly to her advisor. "Artiquitus you said the griffon dignitaries were the last ones."

The advisor scrambled through his notes. "W-w-well your highness they were the last ones on the schedule I mean."

"Well who's that sitting there? What's he here about?" The princess whispered.

The assistant flipped through a comically large ream of paper on his clipboard. He reached the second to last page and trailed with his hoof down the page. "Uuum apparently his name is Roan E Hay Carts? He's here abouuuuut."

The princess put a large gold shooed hoof on his clip board. "Artiquituuus?" She asked in a rising tone of reproach. "How long has he been there?"

Artiquitus swallowed hard. "Uuum." He looked at the date of the request for an audience. "T-t-two weeks your highness." Haycartes had spent two weeks getting something to eat before dawn, waiting all day long in the hall outside the audience chamber until he was asked to leave, then getting something to eat and sleeping outside the castle to try again tomorrow.

The princess facehoofed. "Artiquitus." The assistant trembled under the gaze of the sun goddess. "Okay new policy. If a pony sits waiting for an audience for more than a week they get first audience the next day. Got it."

The assistant's quill scribbled furiously. "Yes your highness."

"Now then." Celestia let her regal intimidation die down and reassumed her genial air. "Now what business does he bring."

He had to flip to the last page on the clipboard. "Ah here it is. Corruption in his University's hierarchy."

The princess, Paragon of regal placidity, rolled her eyes. "Oh delightful, right at the end of the day I get somepony whining about their professor's a meanie bo beanie." She groaned inwardly but assumed her Royal game face, her voice light but noble said. "Show him in please."

The guards opened the large doors and Haycartes was shown in. The princess noticed his stern countenance and thought it looked out of place on one so young. "Greetings my beloved subject." She called out in her soft pleasant voice.

"Ave Dominas Sola." He said in his harsh tone as he knelt low. Celestia's eyebrow raised ever so slightly, much to Artiquitus' concern. She hadn't heard the olde tongue since Star Swirl had drilled it into her head all those centuries ago, and it was a dead tongue even then. This young pony's courtesy bellied his age.

"I understand you have some concerns about your University." Impressed as she was with his greeting she was genuinely dreading the conversation to come.

For the second time in two sentences she was surprised by the sour faced earth pony. "No your highness. I have concerns about YOUR University. The princess' eyebrow raised again.

Artiquitus watched the princess' visage all day every day. He had written an entire guide to the princess' body language. The most emotion she'd shown in his tenure was the corner of her mouth drooping one quarter of an inch when the Dragon Lord had threatened war. So to see her eyebrow actually factually rise in surprise terrified him to his core.

"My princess, it is my unfortunate duty as a citizen of Equestria and a subject of the crown to inform you that your University, the institution that is under your direct headship, is corrupt to its very core. Its faculty are selected not based on merit, but on proximity to its leadership. Its leadership maintains itself by intimidation, extortion and nepotism."

The princess tensed slightly. This wasn't just another whining trust fund brat trying to bully his way into a job, this was a pony on a mission. She sat forward slightly on her throne.

"From the moment I paid my hundred thousand bits, I have been.-"

"YOU PAID HOW MUCH?!" Celestia blurt out causing her assistant to drop his clipboard, and the guards trained their spears on the earth pony. The princess put her hoof to her mouth in embarrassment. "Please excuse me. A moment please." She stepped off of her throne and signaled her assistant to follow.

They stepped into a soundproof room behind a curtain that artiquitus had never seen used. He was beyond terror at this point. He held up his clipboard as a shield when the princess, the same princess who sent her sister to the moon when she crossed her, rounded on him.

"Artiquituuus." She said through clenched teeth. She lowered his clipboard to look him in the eye. "Why does a University that is maintained at my personal expense cost a hundred thousand bits to attend? The tuition cost is supposed to be a formality."

Artiquitus' voice shook like a leaf in the wind. "I -i-i wouldn't k-k-know your highness. The t-t-tuition is set by the University. I don't know anything about it." The princess exhaled nasally in discontent. She resumed her place in her throne and nodded for her supplicant to continue.

"My princess I have here.-" He retrieved the congratulation letter out of his paper thin saddlebag. "Irrefutable proof of nepotism committed by one Grasping Hoof, Dean of your University."

Celestia thought to herself. "Who the fuck is Grasping Hoof? I thought the Dean was Pompin Circumstance." She levitated the letter out of his hoof and read as he spoke.

Canterlot had the very best weather sorcerers in Equestria, so it was very concerning to all involved when a thunder head rolled off of Mount Neighverest and burst over Canterlot Castle.

"I was given this position without the requisite degrees, training, or experience, for no other reason than I am the fiancee of the Dean's daughter."

The princess once again stood up and went to her private room. She shut the door in Artiquitus' face. Instead of rage she felt only crushing guilt. "How could I have missed such corruption right under my own horn. In my own backyard." She thought of her old mentor Star Swirl the bearded. The University he'd established in her name. It was to be the focal point of all wisdom and knowledge in Equestria, now fallen to such a lowly state.

She straitened up, a look of determination written across her face. She opened the sliding door and her assistant sidled in sheepishly. "Artiquitus rally the guards, cancel all my appointments until further notice. Place Royal Canterlot University under siege. Nopony in or out. Bring this Grasping Hoof to me NOW. This situation needs.-" She looked at him with a face of righteous fury. "Mending."

He stood there too terrified to move until her eyes narrowed on him and her voice raised ever so slightly. "Go!" He scrambled out tripping over himself. She breathed deeply trying to calm herself to a manageable level. She trotted back out and resumed her throne.

"Please go on my faithful subject." She picked the letter back up and reread it.

"Thank you your highness. I say again that the Dean attempted to assign me to this position not because of my competence to fulfill my duty in this position, but as a means to provide for his daughter. A noble cause, but an absolute abuse of power none the less, and any position you could name is the same-"

"Pardon me sir." The princess interrupted. She saw the salary listed on the letter and it struck her that this odd earth pony was turning down a salary of one hundred thousand bits per annum. She looked hard at him. She could tell this odd pony was the kind who could think of a lot of uses for one hundred thousand bits.

"Am I to understand you turned down a handsome salary, in complete disregard for your own advantage?" Celestia said rising.

"Personal advantage is not a factor your highness. I am not competent to fulfill the duty assigned. It would be a bad career choice at best and an act of treason against the study of fillysophy, Equestria, and your highness at worst." He said bowing.

Celestia was floored. She descended her throne. "Kneel please." Haycartes did so without hesitation. "For notorious service to the realm and your princess I dub you." She said placing her long white horn on his left shoulder. She stopped right in the middle of the ceremony. This was awkward. "Umm what was your name again sir?"

"Roané Haycartes your highness." He said not rising.

"I dub you Sir Roané Haycartes. Knight of Equestria. Rise." He did so and Celestia resumed her throne. "Never before have I seen a pony with such a profound sense of morality. I can think of nopony better to manage the fillysophers of Equestria than you."

"Far be it from me to refuse an order from your highness, but I say again I have not the requisite degrees for this position." Celestia internally facehoofed. Because of course he would. If he wouldn't take the job from his father in law to be why would he take it from her, stick in the mud.

Her composure didn't falter as she tried to reason with him. "And what if you were tested for the degrees you need? Would you accept the position then?" The princess was delighted to finally get a reaction out of the sour faced pony. He hadn't flinched at being knighted, but now his eyes were wide and his breathing was labored.

"I-i-if you wish it your highness." He bowed stiffly.

Celestia was satisfied. Her assistant reentered and whispered to her. "Your highness, I've done as you've ordered, the University had been besieged, but umm.-" His voice faltered. "We can't find the Dean."

Celestia for the second time in her life burst out reflexatorily. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T FIND HIM!" Echoed through the audience hall.

Haycartes spoke up. "Pardon me your highness, but he has fled. I don't know where he is but he's neither at his penthouse, nor at his country house. He resigned from his position of Dean two weeks ago and left."

The princess' rage was momentarily redirected. "Why would he do that?" She asked.

Haycartes cleared his throat. "He was very upset with his daughter's choice of mate?" He cleared his throat again. "We made a bit of a scene."

The princess raised an eyebrow, but then her eyes shot open with recognition. She leaned forward staring at him intensely. "You're the pony who.-" She slapped a hoof over her mouth.

Haycartes' face flushed but his expression remained implacable. "Yes your highness. I apologize for the disturbance."

Celestia stood up quickly, her face blank. She walked slowly to her private room. The door closed behind her and she stood still for several seconds. A smile slowly crept into the corner of her mouth. The room filled with a seething his, then a chuckle, then a roaring guffaw. She sank to her knees and laughed until her sides hurt.

This was too perfect. This odd odd pony had punished him worse than anything she could've done. She didn't have to lift a hoof. There was nothing she could do to him that was worse than having his daughter taken in front of him, and it was so bad that he had already resigned so she didn't have to fire him. She laughed herself out and did her best to put her princess face on.

Celestia reentered the audience chamber, regal smile reassumed. "Sir Roané, I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. We'll get with you about when you can be tested for your professorship. I wish you luck." Haycartes' bowed low and went back to the country house and to his mare.

Royal Canterlot University was surrounded by the princess' guards for a full three weeks. Celestia herself interrogated each and every professor to root out any who didn't meet her standards. The students were allowed free movement throughout the campus but were not permitted to leave.

Half of the faculty was fired on the spot, and a few were vindicated for maintaining their faithfulness under the regime of Grasping Hoof. A certain literature professor was summarily executed for. [REDACTED] Griffons were released to their families. [REDACTED] Largest ring of. [REDACTED] A certain history professor, just arrived from Prançe and full of a healthy hatred for Neighpoleon, saw the guards from a distance and didn't stop running until he was back in Prançe.

Many students and faculty didn't actually live on campus so a makeshift refugee camp was established in the main courtyard. Food for the cafeteria was delivered under heavy guard. One thing that was critically lacking to all involved, a comfort that no University can go long without, was alcohol. A certain unicorn of our acquaintance tried unsuccessfully to bribe one of the younger guards to go purchase him some cider.

Wordsmith sighed heavily as he got comfortable next to Sawbones. "The princess somehow found the only guards in history who are absolutely unbribable."

Sawbones placed his head on his lover's chest. "She's in a mood Smithy. Not a good time to be caught as a corrupt pony."

Because the students had been encouraged to stay in their dorms as much as possible, not to mention classes being cancelled, the new couple had a lot of time to talk, whenever their mouths weren't busy. Sawbones had told Wordsmith that he didn't mind if he still saw mares and tackled the poet upon receiving the reply.

"Oh Boney, do you really know me so poorly? What do you think I've been so troubled about of late. The thing is that now that I have you, I don't want to anymore." He had gotten around to calling him his lover but neither felt a particular need to tell anypony else.

The faculty was cleaned out from top to bottom. Celestia herself took over as Dean until a more suitable pony could be appointed. Haycartes took his fillysophy tests and passed with flying colours. He missed only two questions, one of which he argued with the tester and was changed to correct.

Celestia appointed him as head of head of the now much smaller fillysophy department and charged him to write a new curriculum, which he immediately had to scrap and rewrite with cooperation from the rest of the fillysophy professors as none of them knew what half of the curriculum he created was talking about.

The siege was finally lifted after a full twenty two days and students eagerly vacated the campus to go be literally anywhere else. Haycartes and Picturesque walked hoof in hoof towards his old dorm to gather his textbooks to return when they saw Wordsmith and Sawbones walking towards them. They made eye contact and the poet charged towards the professor. "Oh no."

"What ever is the matter mon amour?" Picturesque asked.

"I was rather rude in the last conversation I had with Wordsmith. I believe he's still mad." He disconnected from his mare and stood head erect, ready to receive whatever punishment his friend felt he deserved.

"But mon amour that is the pony who brought me to you in the hospital." Haycartes' head snapped towards her in surprise one second before he was tackled.

Wordsmith shook him about violently as he shouted. "THE ABSOLUTE MAD LAD WENT AND FUCKIN DID IT!" He was swarmed by a mob of cheering students and was raised into the air. He shouted for them to put him down but Wordsmith positively refused. "Nope you're getting your parade and you're gonna like it!" He laughed.

They carried him all the way to the Breached Barrel where cider and stories flowed freely. The four sat at their usual table "Wait a moment! No! I don't believe you! You told the sun goddess no when she appointed you? Really old colt that is too much even for you?"

"I told her I didn't have the requisite degrees and she had me tested. Now that I am qualified for the position I'm happy to accept." Roané said, sipping his pint. "So what did you two do the whole time you were stuck on campus?"

Sawbones chuckled to himself mischievously and Wordsmith's face got progressively redder. "Well umm you see about that umm. Well old colt what I mean to say is umm err well." He looked up and away. "Boney you tell him."

Sawbones rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile. He took the other unicorn's hoof in his and said. "Carte we're in love."

Picturesque's hooves snapped to her mouth in surprise. Haycartes' expression didn't change. "I know." He sipped his pint.

The other three ponies stared at him in shock. "Umm how did you know? We hadn't told anypony?"

"Well nopony's business but yours I suppose." Haycartes said unconcerned.

"No I mean this just happened a few weeks ago how could you have known? You haven't been here." The poet said, voice rising.

Haycartes' eyebrow raised slightly"Really? I thought you two were always together?"

Both unicorns shouted "NO!"

"What the Discord would make you think that?" Wordsmith growled.

Haycartes looked up with thought. "Theee constant physical contact, the fact that he calls you Smithy, the fact that you spend every Sunday afternoon on a hillside frequented by lovers." He looked at Wordsmith remembering another point. "Your mane."

Wordsmith spluttered with rage but Sawbones couldn't help but laugh. "See he saw it, why couldn't you."

"NOT. RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW. BONEY!" Wordsmith shouted. Their conversation was halted when Picturesque sprang from the table to the mare's room. "I say! What's wrong with her."

She exited the mare's room holding her stomach. "Forgive me, I don't know what's wrong with me. I've felt ill disposed for the last two weeks straight." She rejoined the table and Haycartes put his foreleg around her.

Sawbones said casually over his pint. "Sounds like you're pregnant." Picturesque sprang into the air squealing. Haycartes eyes went wide, then out of focus.

Picturesque wrapped her forelegs around her stallion. "Oh n'est-ce pas merveilleux mon amour? She noticed he wasn't moving. "Mon amour tu n'es pas excité?" She tapped his shoulder and he fell over, legs stiff as a board.

"You know I almost missed that." Wordsmith chuckled. "Apropos well done! Your little display caused quite the scandal."

Picturesque looked at the poet confused. "What display my good sir."

Sawbones leaned forward. "Your little scene at the restaurant." The unicorns raised their glasses in toast.

Picturesque went white as a sheet. She whispered intensely. "You heard about that?"

"My Lady, everypony heard about that. It was in all the papers." Wordsmith chuckled. Picturesque started to sway and Sawbones caught her in his magic before she could fall over. "Now we're even." He said and the unicorns toasted.

The expecting couple made their way to Mareseilles that their foal may be born in Picturesque's homeland. Her mother was terribly fond of Haycartes for his victory over her ex husband. Picturesque had to fend her off constantly shouting. "Celui-ci est à moi!"
The two were wed in a small ceremony on her mother's estate and about ten months later a pink bow was tied around a new charcoal grey earth pony filly.

"Mon amour?" Picturesque cooed in her sweetest maternal voice.

"Yes my l-" He was stopped by a pair of wings wrapping around his throat.

"Si vous lui dites comment elle est devenue, je vous enterrerai personnellement. Comprenez vous." She growled in a voice Haycartes had never heard her speak in before. A wing shot out and a pinion stuck deep into the wall. Haycartes only nodded. "Good." She pecked his cheek.

Octavia, as she was called, was handed gently to Roané and the world went runny around the edges. He looked at his precious little bundle and thought how fragile she was. He thought about his duty to provide for and protect her. He thought about his responsibility to foster her growth as a pony and as a citizen of Equestria. He thought. "How could anypony ever want to abandon something like this?" He thought maybe just maybe he should be a little bit salty about his parents leaving him.

"Nah that's stupid." He decided, and held his family in his forelegs. For the first time in thirteen years he had a family. In less than two years he'd gone from having nothing and nopony, to being the head of the fillysophy department at the single most prestigious University in Equestria, married, and having a foal.

It was a very productive time for him.

Your Mom's a Milf!

"BAAAAABE." Vinyl whined petulantly. "Do I really have to meet your parents?"

"Yes love it's important. Without my father I wouldn't have had the courage to do . . ." She reddened slightly. "What we did at the dance hall." Vinyl grinned widely. "You enjoyed our reconciliation didn't you?" She bumped Vinyl's hips with her own.

Vinyl winced at the memory, still slightly sore. "I did at first." They trotted up to the house and saw the wreckage scattered about the grounds.

Octavia had forgotten she left her parents in the middle of a domestic squabble. "Oh no! FATHER!" She galloped inside and Vinyl galloped after her. She lit her horn defensively not knowing what to expect. Octavia tore around corners seeing the utter destruction her mother had caused, and feeling worse and worse about getting her father in trouble. As she approached the master bedroom she heard an agonized cry from her father. She rounded the corner and shouted, "MON MÉRE N.- OH MY GOODNESS!" She immediately ducked back out of the room holding her hooves over her eyes.

Vinyl caught up with her and looked about in confusion. Babe what's wrong?! What's?" She looked into the room her mare had just fucked out of and saw the milf to end all milfs riding a rather well hung stallion. Her mouth hung open in awe and one weird slipped from her mouth. "Nice."

Octavia cried out in anguish. "WHY?! WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING!"

As it turns out after Octavia had galloped off to go be reconciled to her lover, her mother had spent the next several hours trying to murder her father. Eventually she cornered him in a closet and he managed to negotiate an alternative to being murdered. They would have another foal. They had then spent the rest of that night and the following day in bed. The agonized cry Octavia had heard was the tail end of round twelve.

Her father noticed Vinyl standing there and disconnected himself from his wife. "Ah you must be the source of my little filly's pining. Dearest! Bring brandy, we have guests!"

Her mother slurred. "Oui mon amour just let me find my hooves first."

Octavia cleared her throat to stop her mare from ogling her mother. Vinyl looked up and away blushing slightly. "Love this is my father Sir Roané Haycartes, and my mother Picturesque." They both bowed. "Father, mon mére, this is the love of my life Vinyl Scratch."

Vinyl tried to keep her cool at the introduction but her blush revealed her embarrassment. She stuck out a hoof. "Sup."

To the surprise of all Haycartes brohoofed it as proffered. "What?" He said in response to they're incredulity. "I work at a university. I know how the foals greet each other. Can't see what's wrong with bowing but so be it." He gave an odd look that Vinyl decided was a smile. "Vinyl, what do you prefer to drink?"

The unicorn was slightly taken aback. "Uuuh whiskey?" She wasn't sure what was going to happen with all this.

"Excellent. Dearest, drinks in the foyer?" He asked his wife.

"Semble délicieux." Picturesque cooed. Vinyl blushed at the use of the language of Prançe. Octavia pouted at Vinyl who again looked up and away. They assembled in the large foyer and Picturesque brought them each their preferred drink. Haycarte had his cider, Octavia her cognac, Vinyl was given a large glass of whiskey on the rocks and she had her wine. Vinyl had to try hard not to stare at the pegasus as she walked away.

Picturesque settled down beside her tower harp and Haycartes sat across from Vinyl in a large leather chair. Vinyl thought her mare would surely sit down next to her but instead she only kissed her horn and whispered. "Good luck love." She strutted over to her mother and sat down beside her.

"Good luck with what? Babe! Good luck with what?" Vinyl was very nervous. She looked and saw that Haycartes was staring intensely at her over steepled hooves, inspecting her, sizing her up as it were. Vinyl's eyes darted to and from his in expectation. He continued to stare until finally Vinyl shouted. "WHAT?"

Picturesque leaned over to her daughter. "Point Haycartes." Octavia rolled her eyes.

"So you're the one my daughter's been pining about then." He said over his still steepled hooves.

Vinyl looked at Octavia for a hint of what the fuck he was taking about. The cellist didn't move, she only sipped her cognac. Vinyl looked back to Haycartes. "Yeah?"

"And how did you meet?" He finally moved and sipped his cider.

Vinyl brightened slightly, taking this as a good sign. This was a question she knew how to answer. She drained half her whiskey. Haycartes, not that his expression showed it was impressed. "Oh she came to one of my shows. She actually saved my ass from the guards when my buddy's noise cancel spell fucked up."

Octavia leaned over to her mother. "Point Vinyl."

"And what do you do at these 'shows'?" He said, his voice still hard, almost accusatory.

"I'm a DJ." She stopped herself for a moment and her ears drooped almost imperceptibly. "I mean,I was until last night." She finished her whiskey.

"So you are unemployed then?" Roané said, putting down his cider.

"Point Haycartes." Octavia's mother smirked.

"Well I mean, I got a few bits saved up. We're actually planning to move to Ponyville so our expenses are about to go way down."

Octavia facehoofed. "Damnit Vinyl."

Haycartes sat bolt upright in his chair. "Then how will she attend the conservatory?" He asked, his voice raised.

Vinyl felt it would be appropriate to cringe and try to mollify his justified outrage, after all hadn't she told her mare not to quit, but her combative nature combined with damned good whiskey and the awkward nature of the conversation made her less accommodating. "She won't. She just quit a few hours ago." She smirked defiantly.

"Point Vinyl!" Picturesque whispered in surprise.

"And I suppose you had a hoof in that decision?" Haycartes asked, now openly accusing her.

"Nope." Vinyl said and sipped at the little bit of melted ice. "I even told her not to." She grinned half maliciously, half nostalgically. "She said quote." She put on a terrible Canterlot accent. "I've found the greatest musician in all of Equestria! Why do I need to go to music school?"

Picturesque had to stifle her chuckles. Octavia pouted angrily. "I do not sound like that."

Octavia's mother nudged her with a wing. "Oh yes you do! That was you to a T. Point Vinyl!" The pegasus was thoroughly enjoying the exchange. She flew over and refilled Vinyl's whiskey. The unicorn made a point of actively looking away this time. Octavia appreciated the gesture.

"And what will you two do in Ponyville." Haycartes continued his interrogation.

Vinyl again felt the call to be nice to the pony that had made her little Octavia, but years of party life caused her to take no shit from nopony. "Each other mostly." Octavia couldn't help but snicker to herself.

"Why did you quit your job at the club?" He asked over his cider unconcerned.

The former DJ stopped in the act of sipping her bitchin whiskey and sighed. She thought for a moment and answered. "Cause it's no way to live. Your daughter showed me that." She looked with a sad gratitude at her lover. Octavia blew her a kiss.

"So just to be clear here. You're a degenerate who was the cause, though not the instigator of my daughter quitting her lifelong dream of attending the Royal Canterlot Orchestral Conservatory. You've quit your job, and you're moving to a town neither of you are familiar with, with no plans for a career." He put on his most condescending look. "Did I leave anything out?"

Octavia snapped forward in her seat. "Oh no love don't. You've got options. Please Don't!"

Vinyl was done. He was absolutely right, but fuck him for saying it. She had only one hold card left and she played it. She stood up slowly, looking him right in the eye and said. "Yeah, you forgot the part where I fucked your daughter in front of two hundred ponies last night."

Octavia fell back dejected in her seat. "He wins." She sipped her cognac and waited for the horseshoe to drop.

Haycartes sat in stone silence for several seconds. Vinyl grinned with the shittiest of shit eating grins. She knew that this stallion was her lover's father, and that this argument would ruin holidays for the rest of their lives, but right now she didn't care. She'd won. She was giving up the club lifestyle, and she was sticking to one pony, but she would never take any shit off any pony.

Which is why it was very surprising when Vinyl saw a small grin creep into the corners of his mouth. He started to shake gently. Vinyl heard a very odd sound coming from him. It was like a cement mixer heard through a fan. Her father, the one she'd just dropped a huge bomb on, was laughing! It started as a low chuckle, then it grew into a full belly laugh. He laughed so hard that he fell out of his chair and fell to the floor still laughing.

Picturesque slowly rose and walked slowly with her elegant gait towards the unicorn. She spoke in a seductive voice. "Octavia. Either you marry this mare." She lifted Vinyl's muzzle with a wing tip to within an inch of her own. "Or I will."

Octavia snatched Vinyl bodily off her chair away from her mother, and held her like a foal holds a stuffed animal. "Elle est à moi! Obtenir le vôtre."

The conversation had stretched well into the evening and the two lovers retired to Octavia's old bedroom. Vinyl finally had a minute to breathe and asked. "Babe your wanna tell me what the fuck just happened?" Vinyl said in exasperation, too confused to be mad.

Octavia sighed. " My father is a great debater and he wanted to see if you could hold your own in an argument. You couldn't, but your comment about the-." Octavia cleared her throat. "Club incident." Vinyl grinned at the memory. "Won him over anyway. Suffice it to say he approves of us."

Vinyl's eyes went wide with realization. "You mean that was just 'does daddy like me' bullshit? Aww babe. BABE! Don't do that to me again."

Octavia cuddled up to her mare. "Oh Vinyl you did better than I expected, and don't think I didn't appreciate you being so sweet in front of my father." She brushed Vinyl's face with her tail teasingly.

"Cause when your mom said that shit I was scared I was gonna be in some fucked up foresome." Vinyl chuckled through a toothy grin. Octavia looked at her mare with the look of disbelieving horror one does when their lover suggest having sex with ones parents.

Vinyl noticed the horrified expression. "Yeah babe, see, that right there, that's why I was so freaked out." Octavia accepted this answer and snuggled in close to her mare. "Whew, nice save Vinyl." She thought to herself.

In the master bedroom the Lord and Lady of the house had just finished round thirteen. Picturesque snuggled up to her stallion, rubbing her cheek against his heaving chest. "Oh mon amour I'm so glad our little filly has found an amour of her own."

Haycartes took a sip of cider. "I dislike her mane."

"Apropos my love umm." Picturesque fiddled with her hooves. "Did you have any idea that Octavia was umm." She didn't know how to phrase the question.

"Of course. Bow tie. Cello. And besides." He held his mare close and kissed her head. "Nopony sighs like that unless a mare's involved."

40/40 Epilogue

Hold please lived a quiet, if a little lonely life in Trottingham. She had saved like a miser in Canterlot so that she could retire early. She always thought she'd be retiring with a husband, but that never panned out. She grew spices in her garden, and sold them at the local farmer's market to keep herself busy.

One day while on her way to the farmer's market to ply her wares, she suddenly dropped her basket of fresh ground basil, when she saw the absolute last face she thought she would see, Grasping Hoof, Dean of Royal Canterlot University, her old boss. She couldn't believe her eyes.

She started to stammer his name, but he merely collected her dropped basil and basket in his magic, and levitated them to her. She fell silent with disbelief. She noticed just how thinned and haggard he looked. Despite hating the pony with a passion her entire career, she felt genuinely sorry for the unicorn. He didn't say a word to her the entire time either. He just picked up her dropped goods, handed them to her, and walked away in silence. She only sold two jars of fresh ground organic basil the entire market day, two more than usual, but all she could do the rest of that day was think of the off white unicorn.

Several weeks passed, and she'd almost forgotten the incident when who should happen to appear at her stand but the very same stallion. He asked in a voice robbed of its normal domineering tone, "Pardon me ma'am, but what goes good with.-" He looked in his bag with its haphazard assortment of vegetables. "This?" He held up the bag.

She couldn't help but stare at his emaciated face. Was this the pony that had terrorized an entire University for thirty years? Somepony who didn't even know the names of common produce. She looked into his bag and saw that there was nothing that in any combination could make a meal, much less one that could be improved with her seasonings. It looked like he had just grabbed one vegetable off of every booth as he'd walked by.

Her pity was so great, that despite the terrible way he had treated everypony in his employ, and all the things he'd done, she closed up her booth and led him around the market by the hoof, helping him pick out produce that would produce meals. "Really ma'am, I thank you. I've just, umm. I've never actually had to do this for myself before," he said, his voice tempered with a bashfulness she'd never witnessed.

Hold Please resisted the urge to snark, "I'm sure you haven't." Instead she opted to do the neighborly thing, and offered to teach him a few recipes she knew. If you had asked her while she was making ponies wait needlessly at her old job, if she'd ever in a thousand years cook for her boss, she'd probably have said only to poison the fat bastard. Yet there she was helping him carry produce, and chatting about what they would yield.

They arrived at Grasping Hoof's abode, and Hold Please stopped dead in her tracks from shock. The house was tiny. It wasn't small, it wasn't cozy, it was teensy. The paint was cracked, the roof needed to be reshingled, the screen door was torn, and it was fucking small. Hold please stared mouth agape at the former Dean, and marveled that a pony who used to own a country home outside Canterlot, and lived in a penthouse suite downtown, could possibly reside in a glorified cardboard box.

She reluctantly entered, then had to stand awkwardly in the doorway for a few moments. She could barely see. She lit her horn to help her find a light switch, but then noticed the lights were already on. The cracker box was sparsely furnished. A chair by the fireplace, and a single chair at a table was all she could see. "Well, first things first, let's get some more light to work by,"
she said, trying to distract herself from the omnipresent air of dinginess.

Hold Please's horn lit up, and the dusty curtains were opened bringing some much needed light into the house. Now that she could see properly it seemed somehow less dingy, almost but not quite pleasant. They placed their produce down in the kitchen, and she started opening cabinets looking for cutlery and crockery, but found none. "Umm, Sir? Where do you keep your knives, also I'll need a cutting board and skillet.”

Grasping Hoof shifted uncomfortably. "Well, umm, yes. Well I uh, I didn't seem to bring any in my move from-" She saw a pained look of memory flash across his face. "Anyway I'll just go and-"

She held up a hoof for silence. "No, no. I'll go get some of my spares. I live right up the road. Just use your magic to start peeling those onions, and crush that garlic, and by the time you're done with that I'll be back.”

He shook his head. "No, ma'am really I- I couldn't ask you to-“

"No, no. I insist. Besides.-" She flashed him the warmest smile he'd ever seen. "It's nice to have somepony to cook with." She had said it as a throw away compliment, but as she trotted down the path towards her house, it struck her that she'd actually meant it. She still didn't trust Grasping Hoof, as she'd known him for years, but this hardly seemed like the same pony. She remembered the pained look on his face, when speaking about his move, and wondered what could've possibly happened.

She quickened her pace towards her home, and upon arriving gathered up a few cookbooks, all titled " something something for one", and several pieces of standard kitchenware. The perpetually unused dishes had always mocked her with their presence, so she was glad to be rid of them. She entered and exited her house three times in quick succession, as every time she'd start back towards Grasping Hoof's cracker box she'd think of another essential no home should be without. She returned to her former boss' tiny house, and put the several bags of Housewares down on the small table. Grasping Hoof gawked at the plethora of bags. "What's all this then?"

Hold Please realized she might have gone a bit overboard with her donations. She blushed as she sheepishly explained, "Oh well, wouldn't wanna forget something and have to go back for it. Besides they're just my spares. Just consider it a house warming present."

Grasping Hoof was taken aback by her generosity. "Really, you are too kind Mrs?"

She blushed at the title. "Hold Please. Miss Hold Please." She thought to herself, "He really doesn't remember me." He passed her every single day on the way to his office, and the now skinny bastard had the gall to not remember her. She expected this to bother her, but she realized all of a sudden it didn't. He'd not been rude or condescending to her once since he'd been in Trottingham.

She showed him step by step how to prepare parmesan crusted fried zucchini. The dish was plated, but instead of eating it he stood there awkwardly. "Umm, where's your portion?" She blinked a few times in surprise. She'd only ever cooked for herself or for a few friends, never for specifically two.

"Oh, well I'm not particularly hungry," she lied, having not eaten all day.

"Please, Miss." He had to think about how to phrase her name. "Miss Please. I can't just sit here, and eat in front of you, after you've been so kind." He cut the meal in half. "Won't you join me, please?" He asked, pleading with his sunken eyes. She noticed for the very first time in her life that they were a shining steel grey. Hold Please blushed, but then sat down. Grasping Hoof dragged the chair by the fireplace over to the table and they began their half meal. Grasping Hoof let out a small noise of appreciation. "This is delightful!" He ate heartily, and quickly finished. He rose and returned to the kitchen. "We simply must make this again." He trotted over to the kitchen, and began going through the steps she'd told him. He only messed up twice and she corrected him. They ate the second half of their meal and chatted about matters in Trottingham.

The two talked and laughed late into the evening, not realizing the hour until Hold Please's yawns overwhelmed the conversation. She kept excusing herself, but every time she'd start to leave she'd remember some interesting tidbit and the conversation would start up again. Grasping Hoof blushed slightly and timidly extended a hoof. "Well madam, I can't let you walk home all alone at night. Please, allow me to escort you home," he said not looking directly at her.

The two walked down the moonlit paths to Hold Please's house and continued to talk on her doorstep for a long while. Finally Grasping Hoof gained a pensive air that drew her attention. "Well ma'am, I was just wondering. Well, umm, I mean, I quite enjoyed this afternoon, and was wondering if you'd like to do this again sometime. I mean not with me leaving out the garlic of course." They chuckled at the earlier blunder. "But I do mean dinner. Somewhere in town, I mean." He grinned nervously. She again showed him that smile that warmed him so. "But Hoof, I love cooking with you. Why don't you come over for dinner here tomorrow, and we'll make something together again?" She blushed. "And please, call me Holdy.

He inhaled deeply with excitement, not remembering he'd never actually introduced himself. "That would be lovely ma-. I mean Holdy."

They said their goodnights and Hold Please shut the door gently behind her. She couldn't believe it. She'd just spent a delightful day with the pony that had terrorized RCU for thirty years. More than that however, she had a date! With a stallion! She could hardly sleep that night with anticipation.

The two made a habit of having dinner at each other's houses and chatting cheerily late into the night until one day, almost offhoffedly, Grasping Hoof suggested it'd be easier if they just lived in the same house. Hold Please blushed deeply as she said, "Hoofy? Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

He knelt in front of her. "If you would accept the hoof of an old fat pony." She tackled him to the floor and buried him alive with kisses. They were married three weeks later, and soon enough Hold Please was big with foal. The news came as quite a shock to both of them as she thought she was past foal bearing age. Grasping Hoof couldn't have been happier with the news. He frenetically darted about the doctor's office with thought. "Oh so much to do! Neither of our houses are big enough for a family, they must be sold! Ah but my house is in no condition for sale. I'll have to reshingle the roof, and.- Oh so much to do. SO MUCH TO DO!" Having to go back to work filled him with a new energy like he'd never felt before.

He obtained a position at Trottingham high school for troubled youths. It paid poorly, and the clientele were beyond terrible, but he attacked each day with a vigor he'd never known in Canterlot. He regained a healthy weight, no longer plagued with remorse, but filled with a hearty appetite for good home cooked meals prepared with his loving wife, and lots of hard work.

Soon his first colt was joined by two others. Picturesque had three brothers she would never meet and Octavia three uncles. Grasping Hoof's favorite thing in the world became coming home from work and being tackled into the grass by his three colts. Hold Please finally had what she'd always wanted, a family to call her own. Grasping Hoof got what he never knew he lacked, a deep and abiding contentment with what he had. The two lived happily the rest of their days. They never discussed why Grasping Hoof had moved to Trottingham, and Hold Please never revealed she'd worked for him for over two decades. She didn't care, they were here now, and that's all that mattered.

At Royal Canterlot University the sound of a quill scratching against parchment was the only sound audible in the dorm, now vacant of Haycartes, occupied instead by the two unicorns. Wordsmith wrote furiously for the second time in his life. He was indeed a lauded poet, but his chief vice was that he was too lazy to ever write anything down. The events of the last several weeks had robbed him of sleep though, so he had woken up and filled the room with the sound of scratching. Sawbones groggily complained. "Smithy come back to bed."

Wordsmith didn't stop his scribbling. "Sorry Boney dear. This couplet's been stuck in my head all evening, and I don't think I'll be able to sleep without getting it onto paper." Sawbones frowned at the lack of snuggles and decided it was appropriate to be a bit rude. He slipped under the desk and started to distract the poet with his mouth. Wordsmith tried to resist his lover's attentions, but the quill scratched slower and slower until his hooves drifted down to his lover's head. He felt the pressure building and he tilted his head back, but just before receiving gratification, Sawbones stood up and shuffled back to bed.

Wordsmith ground his teeth. "Really? Can you really be that petty?"

Sawbones yawned as he got back under the covers. "If you want me to continue you'll just have to get back into bed with me." Wordsmith decided poetry could wait.

Wordsmith would go on to write books of poetry under the pen name Nom du Plume. He gained a small but devoted following in poetic circles, but was never terribly popular with the public at large. Sawbones would go on to serve as a surgeon at Canterlot General. They would still meet with Haycartes' either at the Breached Barrel, or at their houses for drinks and arguements. They remained the best of friends throughout their lives. The two never married, but lived together peacefully for the rest of their days.

In Calneigh, on the edge of the frontier of Prançe, Royal Blue could hardly contain his excitement. He changed trains as he was instructed until he reached Maresailles, and at the estate of Le Comtess du Assoiffé. He didn't care how he got there, he was just happy to be there.

The meeting with Octavia's grandmother was awkward to say the least. Roy had to stand on her doorstep for a full thirty minutes as she read and reread Octavia's letter. "She has the gall to not write for months, then dump some stranger on me? Yes I know he helped with her amours, but she should've at least introduced me to her first." The old salt whined internally.

She looked Roy up and down like a connoisseur inspects a piece of art. "Well, at least he seems energetic. If he's going to stay here he's going to pay for it." Roy was allowed inside and spent his first day seeing as many sights and tours as he possibly could with the translator and guide provided by his new Land mare. That night however he was made aware of his rent obligations. He was ridden like a jockey by a pony at least thrice his age and twice his lust. There's the expression ''fucked to death'', but this was a near thing. He wasn't actually required to please the Lady of the house, but he didn't think to argue the issue, that would've seemed rude. He awoke late that afternoon and only was able to take in a bit of the local wine scene before returning to the family estate.

Again his will and vitality were tested in bed, and he barely managed to survive. The Lady of the house was insatiable. He knew he had to relocate if he ever wanted to return home in one piece. He took his broken speech, few remaining bits and his burning loins to the cheapest hotel he could find and rented a room for the rest of the week. The Lady of the house was more disappointed than heart broken. "Octavia's going to get a stern talking to about this."

Royal Blue resumed his sight seeing but a problem quickly arose. The tourist attractions all started blending together. The sample wines and cheeses started to taste the same. The old ponies with their Haywaiian shirts and socks with sandals became more and more obnoxious. He sat outside the Neighpoleon museum sighing to himself. He'd heard of this phenomenon and couldn't believe it was happening to him. He'd been obsessed with Prançe since he saw Cirque de Solneigh as a colt. Now he was at the epicenter of the cultural world yet here he sat drinking bad wine and listening to this obnoxious pony playing the same two sappy chords on his accordion.

He couldn't stand it anymore. He may not be from Prançe but he damn sure knew what accordion music was supposed to sound like. He summoned all of his prodigious bulk and stomped over to the street performer, his professional courtesy gone. He was no longer Roy the bouncer, he was Royal Bleu the Prancofile. He snatched the accordion out of the performer's hooves and smashed it to pieces on the pavement. He shouted at the terrified pony in Equestrian common, his smattering of Prench being thoroughly exhausted, "Stop disrespecting the long and glorious tradition of accordion music that Prançe is famous for!"

The performer scrambled away calling for the gendarmes. Roy called after him, "And learn a new fuckin chord too!" He threw down the remnant of accordion he still held in his hoof to punctuate the point. He stared at the retreating pony and sighed heavily. Maybe he should just pack it in and go home. Prançe clearly wasn't the land of romance, culture, and cuisine he had built it up to be in his mind. Apparently it's was the land of insatiably horny old mares, lame tourist traps, and bad wine.

He felt a hoof on his shoulder that was too gentle to be a gendarme. He turned and saw a greyed old pony smiling sympathetically at him. He spoke in Equestrian common. "Prançe not living up to your expectations?" He said warmly.

Roy sighed heavily. "Is it that obvious?"

The newcomer chuckled. "It happens more than you'd think. Equestrians come seeking wonder, romance, and excellent cuisine. Instead they get.-"

The two spoke simultaneously. "Bad wine, bad cheese and bad accordion music!" Roy laughed heartily, glad at having somepony who understood. Scroll chuckled to himself glad to have somepony you speak Equestrian common with.

"My name is Scroll Scribe, I'm the director of historical verification here at the museum. You'd better come with me, assaulting a street performer is a capital offence in Prançe." Roy couldn't tell if he was joking or not. He didn't seem to be.

They entered the museum and slipped into a small office crammed floor to ceiling with ancient looking scrolls, artifacts and empty bottles of wine. Scroll rummaged through his desk and pulled out a dusty bottle. "Here we go, no offense but you seem like a novice when it comes to wine. Start here." He poured them both a glass and they toasted.

Roy drained half the glass at once and licked his lips. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" He cheered.

He tried to finish the glass but his hoof was arrested in a magical glow. "No no no no no! One doesn't inhale a soixante-sept. Inhale, note it's hidden subtleties, swirl it for a moment, let it breathe, then sip." He demonstrated and sighed contentedly.

Roy smelled the wine not knowing what he was supposed to be smelling for, but it did smell rather good. He did as he was instructed and sipped gently. His eyes went wide and he stared disbelieving at his glass. "What the fuck! It's a completely different flavor!"

Scroll laughed to himself. The uninitiated innocence of the lumbering earth pony was thoroughly refreshing. "So what brings you to Maresailles Mr?"

"Bleu, Royal Bleu." The two talked late into the night and went through several bottles of excellent wine. The name Royal Bleu as well as Roy's cutie mark of three fleur des lis intrigued the historian. The two dug through old dusty genealogies and it was found at length that Royal Bleu was a very very VERY distant branch of the ancient Royal household of the house of Bleu. He had no authority mind you, nor was he owned a pension, but the prancofile was thrilled to have a connection to the place he idolized so.

Scroll Scribe gave Roy the cultural experience he craved so much. They went to cafes by the sea, black and white films that had Roy weeping like a filly, and art galleries that expressed the true beating heart of Prançe. They never found good accordion music though, turns out that's just a myth. Who knew?

Scroll Scribe had come to Prançe in exile, but teaching somepony about it gave him a new appreciation for his adopted home. One night after a few bottles of very good wine Scroll Scribe told Roy as much, and Roy gushed about how much he appreciated Scribe's tutelage on the local culture. The cycle of compliments got out of control as the two scooted closer and closer until finally their mouths connected and the conversation was forgotten.

Roy suddenly found himself in that most time honoured tradition of Prançe, a secret forbidden romance. He suddenly, with absolutely no help from a certain head of historical accuracy, found himself the head of security at the museum. Coworker relationships were strictly verboten, which was practically a guarantor that three quarters of the staff were sleeping with each other.

Roy would never return to Canterlot rather he settled in Maresailles. Scroll Scribe and he would never marry as that would ruin the romance, but they loved each other for the rest of their days. Behind their wives backs. Prançe is weird and terrible.

In the country house outside of Canterlot the sound of a new filly crying could be heard. Octavia's younger sister Chordnelia was born happy and healthy. She continued the family tradition of not completing her education, much to her father's frothing rage, deciding rather to become the lead guitarist in a metal band called Maneowar. She would visit Ponyville anytime the tour was in the area and her and Vinyl were fierce rivals in drinking contests, all of which they lost to Octavia.

In the small village of Ponyville. Vinyl Scratch gritted her teeth under the weight of lifting three large crates of recording equipment. "Damnit babe! I said get off your ass and fuckin help me! Use your earth pony strength or something!" She gently put the crates down and flopped heavily onto a stack of boxes all marked "fragile" as the couch was covered with several boxes stacked on it.

As it turned out the land want just cheap, it was free. Ponyville was granted by the princess as a homesteading area to encourage settlement. The couple literally just had to pay for a fifteen bit building permit, and the cost of materials. The building materials were dirt cheap as well as half the town had to be rebuilt recently, causing a shortage that when filled meant there was a surplus they couldn't get rid of.

The house had an awkward split down the middle, one half brown, one half blue. It was an eyesore, but it was their eyesore, and they couldn't have been happier with it. Octavia's natural strength as an earth pony combined with Vinyl's magic made short work of moving, when Octavia didn't slip away to scratch away at her cello.

"Sorry love, I just can't stop thinking about our song." She scratched out a few odd sounds on her cello.

Vinyl rolled her eyes. "Yes babe, I'm the fuckin best. Now get up and."

"No no no, hold on, I've almost got it, listen listen." She scratched out the first several seconds of song. Of a dubstep song. On a cello. Acoustically. Vinyl's horn arced for the first time since they'd been in Ponyville. The DJ used her near exhausted magic to snatch the cello out of her lover's hooves and scrambled on top of her. They slumped to the floor and christened their new home, door open, for anypony to hear, not a care in the world.

They lay on the floor in each other's hooves, panting heavily, terribly pleased with their lives. They had each other, they had their dream house, they had rather good sex on a regular basis. A thought occurred to Octavia and she started to giggle to herself. Vinyl decided to take the bait. "What?"

Octavia looked deeply into the eyes she loved so much and asked, "Say it again."

Vinyl kissed her once. "I love you."

Octavia chuckled and rolled her eyes. "No love not that. The other thing."

Vinyl was instantly on her hooves. "OH FUCK OFF!" She started to trot away testily.

Octavia tugged at her back hooves. "Oh please love. Please? Mon petite Cherie Vinyl."

Vinyl rounded on her. "DON'T YOU FUCKIN START WITH THAT!" she shouted, blood mounting to her cheeks.

Octavia rolled onto her back playfully. "Ne commence pas quoi?"

Vinyl groaned. "Uuuugh. Fine!" She blushed heavily. "Step one find fuckable pony. Step two eat ass. Repeat."

Octavia shook with laughter. "H-ho-how is that all you knew of love?"

Vinyl frowned and started rummaging through a box labeled "spare tools." Octavia got to her hooves. "Seriously why would you ever put your tongue.- Why are you looking at me like that?" Vinyl was levitating an enema bag, a marital aid, a riding crop, and a can of whipped cream. Vinyl looked her dead in the eye and licked her lips.

Octavia's face went white as a sheet and her pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks. She scrambled towards the door screaming, "VINYL NO! VINYL DON'T YOU DARE! VINYL AAAAAH!" She was dragged by the back hooves back through the door which was magically slammed shut. Half an hour later the two exited the house. Octavia's face was a pale thousand yard stare.

Vinyl walked out brushing her teeth. "Shay ish," she said over her tooth brush.

Octavia stared hard at the ground, face now as crimson as Vinyl's eyes. " I don't want to."

Vinyl's eyes blazed and the riding crop levitated back out. "SAY ISH!"

Octavia screamed, "J'ADORE QUAND TU LANCES LA LANGUE DE MA FILLE!"

"Damn right you do bitch."

Broke Ass Bitch

A dark brown earth pony trotted his way into Star Swirl the Bearded Hall of Royal Canterlot University. His mane and tail were prematurely greyed. His permanent resting mule face on full display. An outside observer would call his trot uncomfortably fast, but he felt that if anywhere was worth going, it was worth getting there quicker. Not to mention him having no winter clothing to protect him from Canterlot's biting cold put him in the habit of getting inside quickly.

He marched right up to a pale orange unicorn named Hold Please. The receptionist was a little off put that the frowning youth was making a B line towards her. Consummate professional that she was though, only responded in her friendliest midwestern accent, "How can I help you young stallion."

The determined earth pony locked eyes with the receptionist. His harsh tone of voice made silly by his youth. He spoke quickly and clearly at all times, as if even light hearted conversation could not afford miscommunication. He snapped in a volume just barely low enough to be called inside voice, "My name is Roané Haycartes. I was told there were programs for which a pony does not have to pay for University tuition. Is this true?"

The receptionist wondered to herself why this natural born drill sergeant didn't go into the guard corps. "Well there is the Equestrian Education Financial Aid Program. That's a zero interest loan for your education paid back over an agreed upon amount of time," she explained.

"No." Roané Haycartes snapped.
The receptionist wondered if this was his natural tone of voice, or if he was just having a particularly bad day. "That is a loan I cannot confirm I will be able to repay. I was told there are ponies willing to pay my educational expenses for me. Is this a falsehood or not?" the very odd pony asked.

The mare steeled herself to help this abrasive but so far not actually rude pony. "Yes there are scholarships and grants to help defer educational expenses." The unblinking stallion stared in intense silence at the receptionist. She assumed he wanted her to go on. "Uuhhm Grants are sums of money given by generous ponies to individuals for education, and scholarships are trust funds set up for ponies who qualify." The stare remained unbroken. The now thoroughly uncomfortable receptionist started to speak faster. "If you'd like there are pamphlets detailing various programs!" She pointed at a rack covered in colorful pamphlets detailing what a bright future their programs could help ponies achieve. He trotted over in his trademark slightly too fast pace and opened the first one in the top left corner. He started to read in silence.

Hold Please thought to herself. "He's not seriously going to." He quickly finished the first page flipping to the second. She sighed to herself, "he is." The mare called out to him desperate to end this farce. "You're welcome to take any of those with you." So he did. Quickly snatching one of each and tucking it under a foreleg. He literally took one of every single pamphlet from the rack.

He turned back to the receptionist and with courtesy that would not have seemed out of line from one of the princess' guards, he bowed and simply said. "Thank you ma'am. You've been very helpful."

Eager for a chance not to dislike a pony she latched onto this new found courtesy. "You're quite welcome," Hold Please said as she gave him the first genuine smile of the conversation. Roané Haycartes started to trot away. "Where is he always in such a hurry to?" she thought to herself. He suddenly stopped. "Oh no what did I do?" flashed across the mare's mind.

He trotted back to the desk and in the same curt, almost shouted, voice asked. "I hate to strain courtesy, but do you have anything I could carry these in?" The receptionist quickly ducked under the desk and emptied a small box that had contained various desktop knick knacks she had packed up to take home that night. Anything to be rid of this very odd pony. Hold Please pushed the box across to him and he flopped the thirty some odd pamphlets into it. Again, with the same unfeigned courtesy that seemed beyond his age. "Thank you again ma'am." This time she even felt herself bow slightly, and with that he was gone.

Hold Please sighed to herself. "A month before moving to Trottingham, and I get the weird one."

On the very last day of twenty two years of dedicated service, Hold Please once again heard the quick trot of a very odd dark brown earth pony. The same prematurely greyed mane, the same resting mule face, but this time with the oldest, most worn saddle bags she had ever seen. The seams we're already bursting, but now they seemed like a stiff breeze and they would dissolve utterly. Small important looking leaflets poked out in all directions.

Hold please deciding not to ruin her years of dedicated service poured all of her mental fortitude into one last smile. "Hello again Mr Haycartes," she beamed, hoping against hope he wouldn't notice the forced tone in her voice.

"Hello again ma'am. I should like to enroll in your fine University." She blinked several times in quick succession. This was not a thing that happens. A pony who needs help paying for college does not attend RCU. A pony who attends RCU had their tuition paid for by their parent's parents.

One does not get help to attend the University established by the most powerful sorcerer ever to live under the auspices of the Fucking Sun Goddess. One gets help in attending East Canterlot University, or West Manehattan University, Or Trottingham Ag, or . . . or Ponyville Community college! Not To Literally The Most PRESTIGIOUS UNIVERSITY ON THE FUCKING PLANET! Mercifully however, it was actually not her job to help him enroll. That, thank Celestia, was the student coordinators' job.

She explained as much to him with genuine enthusiasm that quickly turned to dread as he explained that he had written both student coordinators. Both had explained they would be out of the office for the rest of the week but had said she would be more than happy to help. Also the registration deadline was tomorrow, so she was the only one available to help him anyway.

Hold Please's eye twitched violently. This couldn't happen. There was no way that she was the only one to help this trotting conundrum. The only reason she was capable of helping him was that those lazy freeloaders kept sucking face when they were supposed to be helping future students, and she ended up doing most of the grunt work. The only reason they continued to work there was because they we're family of some damned Noble higher up. Now they were fucked off on their second honeymoon while she hadn't had ONE! Not that she was bitter about it or anything. She grasped at any straw she could find. "Well I mean uuhm uh you have to be eighteen to attend."

He retorted. "My eighteenth birthday is the day before fall semester starts."

Her eye twitched. "Uuhm well first you would need to apply of course, and then be accepted which can take months." He gently set the ancient bags on the desk and dumped out a comically large pile of papers. It was even bigger on the inside! He produced an acceptance letter signed by Dean Grasping Hoof and countersigned by the princess herself. Hold Please's jaw hit the floor. How in the name of all things technicolor

"Well then of course you'll need to pay your first semester's tuition in advance 12,500 bits nonrefundable." He sifted through the pile of notes and produced a voucher for the above mentioned sum. Hold's eyes scanned the paper incredulously. There it was, a voucher from the Elderhoof Endowment Fund. One semester of tuition with room and board included addressed to one Roané Haycartes with his cutie mark, a pony's head with lightning shooting from it, stamped on it.

She started running her eyes over the haphazard assortment of papers. She saw vouchers from every charity she could name and several she couldn't. She picked a particular voucher up and held it towards him accusingly and whined, "This is a griffon charity! How did you qualify for a griffon charity?"

"It is a charity established by griffons, but not exclusively for griffons. Nowhere in its charter is it stated explicitly that only griffons are eligible." The very much not a griffon explained. He had argued tooth and claw with the chairgriffin on that point.

The large amount of vouchers now started to concern her for a different reason. "How many semesters do you want to pay for right now?" she asked suspiciously, eyebrows lowering in concern. She had seen too many bright eyed young ponies fail at academics, and then in short order finances, to allow him to pay for his full education in good conscience.

"Four years plus summer classes," he said without a hint of hesitation as if it was the most natural thing in the world, while organizing the vouchers across the desk from most to least valuable.

She sighed heavily and prepared to try to reason with this iron faced, lead voiced pony when she noticed a traveler's cheque for fifty bits at the very end. "Where did this come from?" she inquired about the laughably small sum.

He didn't blink as he said. "That was a whip round from the ponies at work."

She was once again hit with culture shock as ponies who attend RCU didn't work. The receptionist for the first time took a good long look at the pony standing in front of her. His dark brown coat was covered in small raised patches she knew concealed scars. His muscles tone from years of whatever work he could find, not from exercise. His ribs exposed his face, hard and gaunt. She had to choke back tears for a moment at the realization that here was a pony for whom failure was not an option. He didn't have his family's title to give him security, or his grandfather's trust fund to give him anything he wanted.

What struck her the most though, is he didn't show any trace of worry about it. Neither arrogance at being accepted to RCU, nor any shame at getting literally any scrap of help he could get his hooves on. As if it was the most natural thing in Equestria to attempt to better one's lot. She diligently helped him pay for his schooling, got him signed up for first semester's classes, assigned him a dormitory with roommate, and gave him a map of campus with meal times and campus rules included.

The Herculean task that would've taken the two over payed, under worked, over sexed,not that she was bitter, student coordinators, all day took only two and a half hours that flew by in a flurry of paper work and explanation. Hold Please racked her brain to give this young student any advantage he could get. Telling which professors to avoid and what tactics to use with each to which the earth pony adamantly refused. "I will do what the course work requires of me in the time allotted." Was his only reply in these instances.

After the receptionist could no longer think straight she limply handed the key to room 420 to Haycartes and they shared a mutual bow. The stallion picked up the now depleted saddle bags now only barely clinging to his map and pamphlet. The keys held firmly in his teeth as the bag was far too perforated to trust the task to them. Then in his usual gait, he trotted off to go fulfill his destiny.

Hold please gathered her desk knick knacks in the new box she had brought, put up the "receptionist out" card, punched out, picked up her last check, and quit her twenty two years of dedicated service to the princess at noon. On a weekday. What were they going to do, fire her? Her bosses were balls deep in each other on the other side of Equestria, not that she was bitter.

She chuckled to herself that she didn't think this was a matter important enough for the princess to send her to the moon about. She would never see Royal Canterlot University again. She moved to Trottingham and the next year married a certain well rounded, off white unicorn stallion. But more on that later

Play nice with the other foals. (4/40)

Royal Canterlot University cut an inspiring figure in the bright morning sunlight. Its towers reared over the surrounding landscape. Its marble columned library showed unquestionably who's University this was. Established at the dawn of the Celestine age by Star Swirl the Bearded himself under the watchful eye of his greatest disciple the sun goddess herself, it was the central hub of all wisdom and knowledge in Equestria.

Arcane secrets we're delved by its sorcerers. Its place in the universe was scrutinized with ever growing clarity by its scientists and fillysophers. Its students would go on to be the very cream of the intellectual crop of the world.

At least that's what the architecture would have you believe.

The reality was entirely less inspiring. Once helmed by the greatest minds the world had to offer, its faculty had degenerated into a cesspool of sycophancy and nepotism. Each post filled, not by the most suited but by the most favored.

Whereas its mission statement was to seek out and develop the greatest minds in Equestria to help tackle the ever more puzzling issues of the future. Its clientele were now only those who could afford the outrageous sums. Where once ponies came to learn what is and why, now the brats of aristocrats came to be stamped with the mark of instant acceptance to the highest posts in the land.

Dean Grasping Hoof, an overweight off white unicorn, had any and all of the classic vices. He was slovenly, conniving, vain, and worst of all, he wanted you to know it. He never lacked an excuse to display his accomplishments.

From formal dinners, to parties at his country home, to all conversations, he never tired of showing. "Hey look at me and what I own aren't you jealous?" His name, as most pony's names do, fit his personality uncannily well. He had obtained his position as Dean of the most prestigious University on the planet by subterfuge and sabotoge. Bad mouthing his subordinates to his superiors, and playing his superiors against each other until there were none left.

And a certain dark brown earth pony was about to wade into this quagmire.

His first class was introduction to fillysophy under professor Sohpistry. A snow white stick of a unicorn. His reputation was less than savory. Hold Please had warned the intrepid Earth pony not even to make eye contact. The professor always made somepony cry on the first day.

Without fail he had received a formal complaint from the school psychologist at least once a year, every year, for the duration of his tenure for the extra work load the professor caused him to have. He magically kept his room uncomfortably cold year round and his voice was icy to match.

Several boffins about Equestria noticed a distinct lack of fillysophers for a city the size and age of Canterlot, and some contributed the lack thereof to this particular pony. A vulgar observer would describe his demeanor as follows. "The stick is so far up his ass that a clever pony could use him as a ventriloquy dummy."

Roané Haycarte sat down front and center, right in the path of the storm. After the morning bell had subsided a hard thin voice croaked out. "I am Sophistry. Professor Emeritus of Fillysophy."

His train of thought was violently derailed when he noticed that, against the usual custom of nopony sitting anywhere in the first three rows, some brash pony had made the mistake of sitting in the front row. Worse the scoundrel was even making eye contact! "How rude." The scholar thought to himself.

He cleared his throat and continued his introduction. "Xeneighphon defined fillysophy as the method of applying logic to scientific observation. He w~"

"Aristrotle sir." Haycarte's voice rang out.

The professor's icy gaze fell with full malice on the interruptor. "Excuse you sir?" The unicorn growled.

"That is how Aristrotle defined fillysophy. You accidentally said Xeneighphon sir." The Earth pony said flatly, arrogant eye contact remaining unbroken.

The professor's mind raced. He had in fact said the wrong fillysopher's name but tartarus would freeze over before he would admit that. "And just what do you know about Xeneighphon?" The horned stick sneered, deciding to go on the offensive.

Any other pony would've understood that the professor had been embarrassed and was now taking it out on them, but Roané thought there was nothing more natural than a teacher asking a student a question. "Well he was a student of Socreighntes, contemporary of Plathoof, writer and protagonist of the Gallop of the Ten Thousand."

The interrogator was speechless. Apparently the upstart knew plenty about Xeneighphon. Sophistry looked around desperately. All his students were either frantically taking notes, benefiting from any scrap of knowledge they could, or giggling quietly to themselves at the spectacle. He shot them a glare that silenced all.

The professor's voice cracked as he spat. "A very astute pony you. Perhaps YOU should like to teach this class." The professor's confidence built slightly at the slight.

"I don't have the requisite degrees sir." Again taking the professor's word seriously. Another trickle of chuckles escaped the students.

The unicorn's eye twitched as he shouted. "WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO SIT IN THE HALL SIR?!" The rest of the students gasped at the sudden shriek.

The stoic Earth pony never let someone's volume or emotion distract from an argument. All he said in his same harsh voice was . "No sir. I would like to learn fillysophy." The few remaining unstunned ponies tried to stifle their giggles.

The enraged unicorn didn't lower his voice to reply. "THEN I SUGGEST YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH, AND LET US GET BACK TO DISCUSSING XENEIGHPHON!" The professor turned, allowing his tail to whip the offending pony in disdain.

His triumph quickly turned to horror as in the same level voice without any irony or arrogance. "Aristrotle sir." The class could no longer hold in their mirth and laughed openly. The professor could no longer sustain the assault to his pride and he charged out of the classroom in tears.

The assembled ponies sat stock still in shock. They had all from one source or another heard about Professor Sophistry. They knew that every year someone in this class cried, but never in a thousand years did they imagine it would be him. The class broke out into a cheer lifting Haycarte onto their shoulders and paraded out of class.

For all of two seconds.

Roané snapped for them to put him down. "What in Celestia's name are you all cheering about?" He scowled from pony to pony, whose exaltation had turned to dread. "A pony just had a nervous breakdown in front of you and you're celebrating it!" He shouted. The impromptu parade ponies now looked at the ground in shame, a few rubbed a hoof against a foreleg in embarrassment.

A pink pegasus mare stepped up sheepishly and tried to justify their levity. "But, but don't you know who that was? That was the Dragon of Diogeneighs' Hall! Professor Sophistry! He's." She fumbled for the proper word. "Mean! Every year he makes somepony cry!"

Haycartes bored holes into the mare's eyes."Is that any excuse to delight in somepony's misery?" His voice was hard and cold as ice. The assembled ponies gasped and a few once again decided to take notes.

The young fillysopher turned curtly and trotted out of the building, normal resting mule face in it's full force. "Though I was denied a class that I paid for. The Dean will hear about this."
Roané made his way towards Star Swirl the Bearded Hall to file a formal complaint.

Outside of the building there were about fifty ponies of all persuasions holding signs and chanting discordantly. Haycartes was about to attempt to go around the crowd when a sign was forced into his hooves and he was shoved into the center of the shouting ponies.

He tried to explain himself but a lanky earth pony wrapped a foreleg around his neck and shouted right in his ear. "HEY BUDDY! THANKS FOR COMIN OUT TO HELP US GET JUSTICE! BOOO."

Roané shoved the shouter away and rubbed his ear. "I AM HERE TO FILE A COMPLAINT!" He shouted over the din of the crowd.

The lanky pony grinned. "HEY EVERYPONY! LISTEN! THIS GUY'S GONNA COMPLAIN TO THE DEAN ABOUT OUR CAUSE!" The protestor ponies cheered and patted him on the back as they moved him forwards. He was brought to the front of the crowd and was presented with a wall of security ponies.

"Well that was easy enough." He thought to himself. "Pardon me sir, I need to go see the Dean." He said to the stone faced Cobalt blue unicorn. The security pony said nothing. The two stared at each other, one full of professional bearing the other not to be swayed by discourtesy. The crowd went silent watching the intense battle of wills between the two ponies.

Finally the security pony broke and snapped off. "Sorry sir. You can have your protest out here, but I can't allow you inside."

A vein started to stand out on Haycarte's forehead. "Excuse you sir? I am a free citizen of Equestria. I have the right to freedom of movement guaranteed by the Equestrian Constitution, which is guaranteed by the hoof and horn of the Princess herself." His voice rose as he spoke. "Second this University's charter guarantees the right to file a formal complaint to the Dean anytime during office hours, so long as the Dean is not presently in a meeting."

He was roaring now "Third these ponies here have a right to protest peacefully anywhere they want!" A cheer exploded from the crowd. "And most importantly I'm not with them."
The crowd went deadly silent. "I'm here to file a complaint to the Dean about dereliction of duty by a professor. I have no idea what these ponies are here about."

A green pegasus with a volleyball cutie mark stepped forward. "We're here because these bastards are making millions off of our blood, sweat, and tears, and WE DON'T GET A BIT!" The protestors cheered again, and several hurled abuse at the building.

Haycartes turned towards the protestor ponies."If they're not paying you what you're owed then file a report with the guards. What would a protest help?"

A collective gasp emanated from the crowd. Did he seriously just question the efficacy of a protest? The scoundrel! The lanky earth pony stepped forward. "Well I mean they don't owe us money but I mean, THEY SHOULD PAY US!" Again the roar of the crowd, and abuses rang out.

The vein on the forehead reappeared. "If they don't owe you money then why do you demand it of them." He said glaring.

A towering hoofball player lumbered forward and stood inches away from Roané. He spoke in a guttural voice. "Cuz they make money off a our labour and don't pay us, and dat's theft." A cheer went up from the protesters.

Haycartes stepped forward getting eye to eye with him, refusing to be intimidated. "If you sign a contract, while not under duress, to play, without financial compensation, then you have no right to complain. The time to negotiate wages is BEFORE YOU SIGN THE CONTRACT!" The hoofball player was cowed and slipped back into the crowd.

Our lanky friend sidled up to defend their honour. "Hey! We're not missing class to be-."

Haycartes eyes blazed. "YOU. SKIPPED. CLASS. FOR THIS?!" The ground shook as he shouted. A hoof connected with Haycartes' muzzle and the attacker stumbled forward following the blow. Roané sent him sprawling with a crashing blow with his right. He was immediately beset on all sides with signs and sporting equipment. His body was surrounded by a shimmering cobalt blue field and he was lifted bodily out of the crowd.

The security pony placed him down at the edge of his telekinetic range and shouted. "Run Dumbass!" Haycartes was off like a shot. A baseball clipped his left back leg and a javelin came within an inch of his ear.
He took cover in the first building he came across, and ducked into a classroom, slamming the door behind him. He panted heavily and took in his surroundings.

He was in a classroom with seven other ponies. The blackboard on the wall said "debate club times" followed by several illegible squiggles. A smartly dressed, black coated stallion approached him smiling, and said. "Cardinal rule of University. Never argue with protesters. Hive mind and all that." He gave Haycartes a seat. "We heard you all the way from here though. How'd you like to try out debate team?" Roané looked about and inhaled to respond.

Thirty seconds later he was tossed out of the building onto the sidewalk. Inside the black stallion could be seen weeping.

"YOU DIDN'T PROVE ME WRONG!" He shouted at the closed door.

"HEY THERE HE IS!" a protestor pony shouted. Haycartes let out a small squeak and was off again.

It was Roané Haycartes' first day of University, and it wasn't even noon.

Eaves dropping is a terribly rude habit. (19/40)

Vinyl felt bad. She felt really really bad. She felt so bad she couldn't sleep. Vinyl felt so bad she had to find something to do just so she could stop feeling this bad. She fell back on her tried and true tactic. She went to get drunk.

The DJ had a multiple show contract with Mad Mares to play three shows a week so she was welcome there anytime. She was halfway through a bottle of Applejack Daniels and was cursing a blue streak. "AND I FUCKIN DIDN'T FUCKIN ASK WHERE THE FUCKIN SHOW FUCKIN WAS. AAAAAAAAAAHHA HA HA." Her head hit the bar. She muttered in a depressed voice. "I wan mah classy bitch."

"Awww Vinyl caught feels." Neon lights chuckled to himself.

" 'S worse bro!" Vinyl slurred "This bitch's got me all fucked up. I'm in loooove!" She took another swig. The assembled ponies were in shock. This was the baddest bitch in Canterlot saying she was all tripped up about one piece of tail. They'd believe she'd give up dubstep before she'd stick to one pony.

Our big blue friend started his shift during Vinyl's rant. "Sheeit 'ts not even 6 and PON-3's already fucked up." He chuckled to himself.

"FUCK YOU ROY!" she barked petulantly. She took another big swig of apple whiskey.

"What she cock block ya or somethin?" He made the mistake of asking. The assembled ponies all made the cut it off gesture of pulling a hoof across their necks when Vinyl inhaled to tell her tale of woe again.

"Eeeeeeah" she whined. "I just want my classy biiiitch!" She actually started to tear up in frustration.

"Chill PON-3! Why don't you just go see her?" The hulking earth pony asked.

Vinyl put on her best sarcastic accent. "Oh yeah why don't I just waltz right up to her and sweep her off her hooves. Then we'll take off into the sky and live happily ever after. Oh wait just one teeny tiny little issue. I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE FUCK SHE IS!"

Royal Blue's eyebrow raised. "Dudn't she live like, right there. In that house she ran into the other night? The one." He opened the fire escape and pointed at the small converted house. "Literally right there?"

Vinyl felt dumb. Like really dumb. She had even watched her go all the way to the house then heard the door slam. She didn't have time to care though as she had a classy bitch to go see. "Roy! You're a good pony. I don't know when. I don't know how. But Imma get you a week in Prance." She picked up her saddlebag and started towards the fire escape.

Royal Blue put on his best Pinkie Pie impression. "Ooooh ho ho Holy Shit. You have no idea. In Maresailles they got this."

"Don't care!" Vinyl called over her shoulder as the fire escape slammed behind her.

Royal Blue muttered something unkind under his breath then turned to the remaining ponies. "So anyway in Maresailles they got this festival." The assembled ponies let out a collective groan.

Vinyl trotted quickly across the double highway that separated the Canterlot entertainment district from the Royal Canterlot Orchestral Conservatory. She trotted up to the door and was about to knock when a thought occurred to her. "Wait I don't know how many ponies live here or if she's even home. Fuck it, it can't hurt to ask."

She was about to knock when she heard excited chatter from the other side of the door. Chatter that sounded oddly familiar. She put her ear to the door. The voice grew periodically louder and softer as if the speaker was moving about the room.

"-Ed eyes of hers." That was Octavia, Vinyl knew. She grinned at hearing her voice again.

"So THAT'S why we were able to hear it!" Somepony Vinyl didn't recognize asked.

"Yes! Two of the same spell cancel each other out apparently. But anyway she put a bubble around the booth and she shouted 'Hey buddy fuck you!' At a pony!" Vinyl heard laughter. She grinned at the memory. "Then we talked and.-" Octavia's voice gained a certain cheerful quality. "Apparently she really REALLY likes the language of Prançe."

Vinyl blushed. "Shut the fuck up Octavia! Damn!" She whispered to herself.

"Anyway we almost made a scene so we paid and." Octavia went silent for a moment. Vinyl pressed her ear harder to the door. "And then I kissed her." Octavia almost whispered.

Vinyl heard a squeal from inside that caused her to have to remove her ear from the door. Somepony said just on the other side of the door. "Looks like our little Octavia's in love."

Vinyl was grinning ear to ear, when something was said that rocked her world to its core. "I. I am." Octavia said almost whispering "I love her." She said a little louder. "Celestia help me, I'M IN LOVE!" Octavia was shouting now. Vinyl felt tears on her muzzle. She wiped them off hard, momma didn't raise no bitch. She decided now was a good a time as any but the conversation resumed.

This time a male voice. "So when will you see her again?" This was huge. Vinyl listened hard, desperate not to miss this next piece of crucial information.

"Oh she's coming to see me perform at the Fillyharmonic tomo-." Octavia trailed off. Vinyl pressed her ear as hard as she could to the door trying to figure out why she stopped. She instantly regretted it as a scream threatened to burst her ear drum. "I FORGOT TO TELL HER WHEN IT WAS. NO NO NO NO NO! I HAVE TO FIND HER!"

This could not have gone better if she'd planned it. Vinyl heard running hoofsteps coming towards the door. It flew open and Octavia was looking the other way, calling something to her roommates. She turned and saw nothing but those red eyes she loved so much, and felt a mare's mouth against hers.

Octavia stumbled back in shock and got a full view of the pony she had been desperate to find. She was standing there, sunglasses on top of her head, red eyes shining, grinning with that cocky smile Octavia loved to kiss. The shock to the poor pony was cruel. "Vi~" was as far as she got before the floor rose up to meet her.

Nopony could move from shock so the DJ popped off. "Sup. Name's PON-3"