Unfinished Mentions

by Rose Quill

Rating: everyone
Tags: Equestria Girls, Octavia, Principal Celestia, DJ P0N-3, Alternate Universe, Fluttershy (EqG), Vice-Principal Luna
Length: 2907

Happy Hearth's Warming, Everypony

Little bits of stories that I started and then abandoned in favor of other pursuits. One was because I wasn't sure how to progress them past a certain point. The other was because it really dredged up some bad memories and I needed a break from it.

Characters:
Octavia and Vinyl Scratch
Fluttershy
Celestia and Luna

Published 2022-12-18 01:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-12-18 13:41:55 UTC

It's Not Ok

I shut the door and leaned against it, sliding down to the floor. I stared forward, the wall at the far end of my home’s entranceway not really registering with me. Instead, I heard the snickers and whispered comments again.

Who does he think he’s fooling?

Look, it’s wearing a skirt today.

Freak of nature.

I pulled my glasses off and dropped them beside me as I squeezed my eyes shut, hands covering my face. I was home, and I didn’t have to hear them right now. My head rested against the cool metal of the door as a tear slipped free.

“Is that you, Vinyl?”

Dammit, I thought for sure Octavia would have been at the rehearsal hall tonight. I had hoped for an hour or two to compose myself.

“Yeah, Tavi,” I whispered. “It’s me.”

My wife rounded the corner and when she saw me her smile fled and I saw the anger in her eyes rise up.

“Was it the same crowd again?” Her voice was cool and even, but I knew from experience that her anger was a cold flame.

I sighed and shook my head. “No, but I ran into them coming from the interview.” A new club had advertised a DJ opening and I never passed up the opportunity to play at a new venue. Nothing made me feel better or more alive than spinning the rounds and pumping out maximum wubs. It was second only to Octavia.

“Honestly, Vi,” Tavi tutted, coming and sitting next to me on the floor of our foyer. “Why do you let them get to you? You know they don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.”

I nodded, giving a little sniff. I caught a hint of her perfume as I caught her eyes. My hands were already moving, matching my thoughts in a habit I had been trying to break for a few months.

But I still hear it, I signed before sliding my glasses back on.

She saw it and pulled me into a hug. She always knew what it meant when I fell back into using Sign. It meant I didn’t trust my voice. I didn’t trust myself to speak for whatever reason. And I just let her hold me and stroke my hair.

“Vi,” she whispered. “They aren’t right, you know. There’s nothing further from the truth.”

“I know that here,” I whispered, tapping my head. “But sometimes it really stings here.” I put a hand over my heart. I felt her sigh. “It’s ok, though. I’m used to it.”

She pulled me upright and shifted to look me in the eyes, one hand removing my shades.

“It’s not ok, Vinyl,” she said softly but firmly. “You are a wonderful, loving heart and I am beyond happy to come home to you every night. Between your friends and I, that’s all that should matter.”

She pulled me to my feet and started walking, fingers twining into my own. “Come along,” she declared. She pulled me into our office, where we both had desks set up for paperwork, booking dates, and accounting. A place where we had to focus on business instead of the fun of music. She stopped and pointed at my desk, where a picture of us on our wedding day was sitting and I couldn’t stop the smile. We both smiled with the biggest grins, decked out in pure white and touches of sapphire in Octavia’s hair. Even though we had gone to the courthouse instead of having a big affair, Pinkie had found out somehow and threw us a fantastic reception, just us and our friends and family.

I wonder how it was she always found out.

“That alone should be enough to tell you what really matters,” Tavi whispered, arms sliding over my shoulders. Her right hand opened slightly, thumb, pinkie, and index extending. Then it flowed into another sign, both hands moving. Then it formed a fist and moved away from my chin. Then she captured my hands in hers and brought them up to my chest, her hands closing into fists again, raising her thumbs before lowering and raising again, lowering a second time and pulling me closer.

I love you…
Everything
Adoration
Sweetheart

And I couldn’t miss the fact that she didn’t just hug me. She deliberately crossed her arms over me to place a closed hand on each shoulder.

“I trust I made myself clear?”

I giggled and turned to hold her as well.

“Loud and clear,” I said, resting my head against hers.

“Loud and clear.”

Author's Note

So, in the Homecoming continuity, I had notes about various side characters that I planned on showing or exploring later on. Vinyl being trans was one of them. It follows a lot of my own misgivings, not trusting my voice half the time, wearing glasses to soften my face, and hearing the whispers whenever I go about.

Also having someone to come home to that makes everything worth it.

Not Really Sure What I'm Doing

“So, I guess,” I stammered. “In a way, this is a good thing?”

Celestia rubbed her temples, her hair pulled back in a tail and a pencil ticked through the mass of hair. She looked like someone running on too many hours with nowhere near enough coffee.

“In what way, precisely,” she slowly asked. “Is it a good thing that you just totaled my car?”

“It’s better that it happened on a deserted road,” I said, struggling a little. “So could you possibly help me out here?”

She sighed and leveled a look at me, and then at the officers standing behind me.

“Take her,” she said, turning away.

“Tia,” I exclaimed in my shock. “Tia, I said I was sorry…”

“To the moon with your apology, Luna!” she snarled, whipping around. “Ever since you moved in, if you haven’t been coming back drunk or stoned, you’ve been stretching the limits of my generosity. You are my sister, and I love you, but I can’t cover for you anymore. I can’t afford to, not now.”

As the policeman started dragging me back outside, I felt a sharp pain stab through me. I had seen the pain in her eyes behind her anger. I hadn’t known how strained her patience was until now.

“Tia,” I cried as the door started to swing shut. “Tia. Celestia!”

And the door closed with a soft click. I had trouble focusing on anything that followed afterward, mechanically following directions as I was fingerprinted, photographed, and led to a cold room with a single table and a few chairs to sit on.

“I really messed up this time,” I whispered to myself.

The officer sat me at the table, my sister standing across the room from me, arms crossed. The fact that she wasn’t facing me was not a good sign. She only hid her face when her patience had been pressed past the breaking point.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t sit up. I don’t remember what all I had been on, but I was coming down hard. I was sweating, and I wished to crawl into a hole so I could die. I could see my reflection in the single window: hair wild and unkempt from constantly running my hands through it, face pale, a few slow-forming bruises from the crash. I could see the dark circles starting to form under my eyes. I looked like a madwoman.

In some ways, I suppose I was. Withdrawal is hell.

“Luna,” Celestia started softly. “I did some thinking last night.”

“Yay,” I rasped. My throat was dry, even with the water I had drunk most of the morning.

She turned to me and her glare burned into me. “Don’t be glib,” she said in a cold tone. “This is the last time I’m going to bail you out, and there are some very big strings attached.”

I leaned back in the chair and held up my cuffed wrists.

“I don’t appear to be going anywhere,” I deadpanned.

“I have spoken with the DA,” she continued as though nothing had been said. “I’m going to drop the charges and this arrest will be expunged from your record on the following conditions.”

She sat in front of me, leaning forward. “One, you will be voluntarily checking into a rehab program.” Her eyes were hard, but the fatigue was evident. “Two, upon your release from rehab, you will be given into my custody. Three, instead of the standard rent I asked prior to this, you will enroll in classes at the local university.”

“I’m not much for school,” I returned.

“Those are the terms, Luna,” she shook her head slowly. “The alternative is going to court and being tried for DUI, and God only knows what else even if they didn’t try to push for grand theft auto. I don’t want you to go through that, but you have to show me that you want to change.”

We locked eyes for a long moment before I closed my eyes and sighed.

“Fine,” I agreed. “But I’m not going into education, like you. I couldn’t stand dealing with kids all day. It sounds boring.”

I slumped over on the table, the book in front of me cushioning my head.

“How did you make it through history?” I grumbled under my breath.

Celestia glanced up from the stack of papers she was grading.

“I happen to love history, sister,” she replied. “Or did you forget I’m a history teacher?”

I looked at her, not lifting my head from its literary pillow. “Then you wouldn’t mind offering me a little help?”

She looked at me with an odd look. “You’re actually asking for help?” she inquired. “That’s new.”

“It’s not funny,” I growled.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” my sister insisted, a smile growing. “It’s a good thing. You used to be too stubborn to ask for help.”

“I usually didn’t need your help,” I reminded her.

“Shall I remind you of your attempt at poetry?” she said calmly. My face burned immediately with the reminder.

“No, that’s quite -“

“I thought your stage name was rather unique,” Celestia murmured. “What was it again?”

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” I lamented, rolling my face so my nose rested in the spine of the book, hiding my red cheeks.

“Nightmare Moon? Is that right? Or was it something else?” She giggled.

“Daybreaker wasn’t much better,” I shot back.

“I beg your pardon?” Celestia huffed. “I wasn’t trying for slam poetry.”

I grinned at her. “No, but I’m sure I can still dig up those old fanfictions of yours.” I tilted my head a little, my hair slipping forward a little. “I wonder what that gentleman friend of yours would think of some of your better-written ones.”

“Luna, I swear by whatever is holy -“

“Isn’t that what the brave princess told the monster?” I couldn’t resist the opening. “‘By the holy sun, I shall punish you for your predations?’”

She threw an eraser at me, giggling as well.

“Just ask me the questions, already!”

“So, did you declare a major yet?” she asked as she slid a mug of coffee over to me.

“I’ve got it narrowed down to three.” I took a sip from the brew in front of me and immediately recoiled. “What in the heavens is this?”

Celestia smiled weakly. “Sugar replacement. I’m trying to cut back on calories and I drink way too much of that stuff.”

I smacked my lips, trying to erase the taste of the artificial sweetener. “So you decide to subject me to it, too?”

She shrugged. “It’s all we got,” she sighed. “And we both know you hate it straight from the pot.”

“It might be preferable,” I grumbled.

“Agreed,” my sister said, sipping from her own mug and grimacing a touch.

“You could just stop getting dessert when we got out for dinner,” I suggested.

“Heresy,” she cried in mock horror. “The very nerve!”

“Indeed,” I said, taking another sip and trying to ignore the strange aftertaste. “This is truly heresy of the highest degree.”

“Speaking of,” she grinned. “Majors?”

I suppressed a yawn and nodded, my wavy hair slipping free of my headband.

“Creative Writing, Counseling, or Education.”

“I seem to recall you saying you wanted nothing to do with teaching?”

I smiled at her.

“Maybe not history, but a writing course might be ok. Theatre for sure.”

Celestia tsked for a moment.

“Alright,” she decided. “If you choose education, I’ll help you out in the courses and placement.”

I perked up. “Promise?”

“Promise.” She held her mug out to me.

I raised mine and tapped it to hers. “One condition,” I hedged.

“What’s that?” Tia asked, setting her now empty mug in the sink.

I indicated my coffee by raising my mug.

“Let me have sugar in my coffee?”

We both laughed.

Author's Note

I had always wondered how Nightmare Moon might have happened in EQG.

Here's the madness that followed that thought.

Healing is Hard to Do

The chair was comfortable and soft, the kind that you could nap in if you had a mind for it. But the environment wasn’t geared for that.

Cold, unfeeling black and steel furniture filled the rest of the office, and the sterile feel made me feel a little out of sorts.

It’s part of why I had chosen this particular firm if I were honest. It had great credentials, but I didn’t want to be totally comfortable.

“So,” the woman across from me began, glancing at her notes. “Last time we talked about how your Trauma had been affecting your relationship.”

I nodded, shrinking in the chair a little despite my efforts not to. “It’s gotten better, but I still feel like it’s always going to be around the corner. I hate feeling like I’m not giving Rarity everything I could.”

My psychiatrist nodded and leaned back.

“Do you think you will ever be able to move on?” She asked bluntly

“I… don’t know.” I sighed. “The memories are always going to be there, and they aren’t the nicest ones.”

She nodded, making some notes on her pad. “How is your support group feeling about this revelation?”

“Dashie is mad, but they all want to help me.” I chewed on my lip for a moment. “Rarity has been supportive, but I can tell she’s holding back somewhat, not being as physically affectionate as she usually is.”

“And how does that make you feel?” Her violet eyes were soft, but it did little to soften her questions.

“I hate it,” I responded. “I know she’s trying not to trigger an episode, but sometimes I just want to be held and told that I’m loved. I know I am but sometimes, it helps to hear the words.”

“Have you talked to her about this?”

“I don’t know how.” I brushed my hand along my skirt. “It’s hard opening up about this sometimes. It was a very scary and demeaning moment in my life and I don’t want to taint our relationship with it.”

“If I may,” my therapist asked softly, closing her notebook and setting it aside. “From what we’ve talked about, it already is affecting your relationship.”

I looked down, feeling the tiny prickle in my eyes that signified impending tears.

“I know,” I whispered.

“I can’t make you do anything,” she continued, handing me a box of tissues that I accepted. “But my suggestion is to let her know how you feel and why this is such an important thing for you. Communication is key to keeping a healthy relationship.”

She glanced at the clock. “I think we will end here today. I want you to think about what we’ve talked about and how to go alpng from here. See Minty in the office to schedule your next appointment.”

I stood and turned to leave when I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turned to see my therapist smiling softly.

“And if you want, you can bring Rarity to these sessions as well. I think it may help her understand how to help you heal if she’s part of the process.”

Author's Note

This was the hardest thing for me to write.

Firstly, I don’t like writing something about a profession that won’t sound authentic, for the fact that someone that actually is in the profession will sit there and go “That’s rubbish, and not at all how it happens”

Secondly, it made me have to tap into my own bits of Trauma to try and write Fluttershy. Her response and mine were very different due to our respective backgrounds and I had to imagine how I would have reacted if I was a more meek and easily cowed girl. Sure, Fluttershy has her Stare and her Geode and is strong now, but she still has that past where she wasn’t. That’s the Fluttershy we see here.

Also, my capitalization of Trauma is deliberate as my therapist said that we all have trauma of some kind, but the difference between trauma and Trauma is how well we are able to cope with it and the severity.

Again, this was difficult to write when I did it and I remember needing a nap and a long call with my girlfriend at the time, now my wife.