Early in her life, Vinyl Scratch learned her easily distracted personality needed a firm counter; something to keep her dedicated to her studies. That's when her glasses came into her life - the original pair the result of saving her bits an entire summer long. They were more than custom lenses; they were a promise to herself. Whenever she had them on, she would work as hard as she could one single task; whenever she got distracted or dropped below what she felt was her best work, she took them off.

It only took one more summer to train herself to use her glasses as a focus. That was the summer she learned how to mix a song, the summer she learned how to make songs work in concert, the summer she learned how to work her first crowd. With her glasses off, she was a party animal; with her glasses on, she was the party's heart. She got her cutie mark two years later, but that was just a formality; she already knew who she was meant to be.

Those years of self-trained restraint and focus were the only thing keeping her from lashing out and breaking something. That, and all the hills she had to climb.

Vinyl Scratch was just another spikey-maned mare in a crowd, but as DJ PON-3 she was recognizable in the street - at least, among the clientèle. Whenever someone waved a hoof at her, she would give her widest, most forced grin possible, never breaking stride long enough to speak to the person greeting them, or even figure out who they are. Just constant motion, a spirited trot just below breaking out into a run. The constant climb of Canterlot's rolling hills was just what she needed in order to keep her mind off of

her lips around me - her eyes looking up to mine - feeling her nuzzle into my chest - those three damn words-

No. Don't think about this. Keep it together, Vinyl.

Coming up to a crest, Vinyl took a moment to catch her breath - then broke out into a trot. Having her own body back was comforting. Just the night before, the thought of running would have been impossible; she hadn't quite figured out walking around as a stallion. Even just the steps around the turntable the night before had been aggravating, the motion constantly making her hips tease against her equipment. It went from tense to annoying to infuriatingly overstimulated within the span of a few minutes.

Which was nothing like that delicious tension they got when you wrapped yourself around her neck and bounced your hips against her -

Don't start this now. Just get to work. Rock the place. Clear your head.

DJ PON-3 gave a little snort. She could figure out her best friend, roommate, and possible drunken fillyfriend later. For now, the club was expecting the fastest beats Canterlot law would allow, and DJ PON-3 always delivered.

Stay awake. That's all I have to do. Just a few more hours. It can't be that bad.

In just ten short hours, three little fillies and one older colt would be on her doorstep bright and early, expecting her personal tutelage in the finer points of a musician's craft. Any other day, their eager faces and rapt attention would be something she could look forwards to, the high point of her week. But that was the entirety of the night away, and this night, there would be no forcing sleep for her.

She looked at a clock. She had been awake for... what, two hours at most, now? It couldn't even have been that. Normally, she would have risen with the sun, but she had been otherwise preoccupied at that time. Now, Canterlot was already starting to roll up its carpets, and Octavia had no idea what to do. She briefly considered drugging herself to sleep with wine and, but then thought otherwise of it. Anything powerful enough to knock her out would also keep her sleeping until morning and straight through the meeting she had planned.

Besides, the only wine in the apartment at the moment was white zinfandel, and she couldn't even think of a blackberry without thinking of him.

Her. Him. I'm not even sure anymore.

What was it she had to teach her students, anyways? Her students were on different levels, but they had grown competent enough that she could create one lesson plan and adapt it to the different styles of each of her students. She vaguely recalled the oldest was moving into the more theoretical forms of music, composing not with a child's enthusiasm but with an adult's deliberate care. That one was Octavia's proudest success; he had not only learned the mechanical and historical pinnings, she had given that student a drive to do better.

And for some reason, Octavia couldn't remember her favorite student's name.

She turned her attention away from her studies, and took another deep sip of her coffee, staring balefully at the bottom of the cup. She tried to think back to her lesson plans from the week before. Last week she had done... a study, yes. A study of... that composer. The one with the odd cutie mark and the... the hair. She had assigned them a single page report, each on a different aspect of the composer's life. And now she couldn't recall the composer's name, either.

"This is going nowhere," she grumbled bitterly. Her stomach was empty, yet she had nothing handy to eat; her coffee pot was empty for the second time; and no matter what she turned her attention to, she couldn't think.

Maybe I just need help. Yes, that could do. Obviously, my attention is being torn into too many directions at once. She sighed softly, and set her coffee cup in the sink. I need.someone to lend a hoof. Maybe Beauty Brass or Harpo... no, neither of them are available on a Saturday. Lyra's moved away. Frederic's no good with fillies...

Octavia sighed as she rummaged with the sink, mechanically cleaning the dishes. Then, there's Vinyl. Or Cole, if that's how I find her. She's definitely great with kids, but... She looked at herself in the reflection of a spoon. "But she's probably still mad at me. Over... whatever this is."

Octavia looked into the empty room. In a few short hours, there would be students there, students expecting the finest in instruction, and Octavia was as nervous as a schoolaged filly. This... this lesson would be so much easier if she was here.

But if she were here...

Giving a sigh, Octavia heaved up from the sink, and headed upstairs to fix her mane. She was going to need to look her best.

"Well, there's nothing for it. I'm going to have to resort to drastic measures tonight..."

By the end of her run, Vinyl found herself much calmer, much more like herself. The set she had in mind for the night was was already playing out in her head, and her overactive mind was already making changes. DJ PON-3 was going to make this Canterlot's rockingest night of all time.

Monochrome's single security guard looked up from his tiny booth beside the doorway. A cheeky smile rose as he recognized the DJ of the night. "Punctual as usual, miss," he smirked, as a back hoof pressed the button that opened the door. His abrasive manner was familiar, at least.

"Heh." A well-practiced devil-may-care laugh sounded, DJ PON-3's voice betraying what Vinyl wasn't in the mood to explain. She was about to step inside ... when a small frown appeared. "Yo, Beat Stick."

"What's up, PON-3?"

"Listen. I'm expecting trouble tonight."

"Trouble? You?" The fluorescent orange security guard reared up and covered his heart with his hooves, as if in shock, feigning a thick faletto accent. "Why, DJ PON-3, I never thought you would cause any sort of ruckus..."

"Har de har har. Seriously, I need you to be on the lookout for some pony."

With their usual banter, he was expecting that to have been the setup for a gag - but she wasn't joking around. With a sigh, he flopped back down, and nodded. "Alright. Who is it?"

"My roommate, Octavia. We had a fight this morning and, knowing her," Vinyl puffed, "she'll probably try to bring it here."

Beat Stick frowned. A personal fight probably would make more work for him. "Ah. I take it that Octavia wears a shirt that says 'I'm DJ PON-3's Roommate' on the side, then."

DJ PON-3's shades hid her rolling eyes, but Beat Stick knew Vinyl's personality too well, so he waited for her to subvocalize any cutting remarks she had. "Short. Round. Dark grey. Short black hair, she always keeps it slicked back. Cutie mark's a pink treble clef."

"Short, grey, and with a treble clef. I think I got it."

DJ PON-3 lifted her glasses up and over her head, and shot Beat Stick a smile - strained but genuine. "Thanks, Beat Stick." With that, she entered her domain.

With the lights up, Monochrome looked like a completely different place. So much of what made the club seem so small and inviting and secretive was the careful use of bright and dim to divide the room into 'corridors' and 'stages'; with all the lights up, you could have been excused for thinking Monochrome was a bar built into a mostly empty warehouse. A raised platform on one end served as the AV closet and podium in one.

Climbing a semi-hidden staircase behind the bar, Vinyl slipped up to the owner's office. From there, Monochrome's owner Vainglory would look down on his club, making sure his investment was going to good use. Although his name was listed on the business cards, most ponies in the club knew very little about him; and he encouraged the rumors, to increase the mystery and his privacy. It was said that Vainglory had all the systems wired into his office, so he could control anything with the flick of a switch. It was said he had a secret entrance so he would never be seen entering the same doors as the common rabble. It was said he had mirrors installed on the ceiling for his private jam sessions." And was said that he had peepholes installed in the floor so he could look at the bar under his office and make sure the bartenders were keeping the till correct. Having been there a year, Vinyl knew which two of these were true.

Looking down onto the dance floor from the hidden electrical panel, Vinyl threw a lever, bringing the mains online. The daytime bulbs dimmed switched off as focus lights cut across the dance floor from carefully recessed lamps, turning the club into a pattern of bright and dark. Vinyl nodded, satisfied - everything was coming to life in good working order. There was just one piece of business left to take care of tonight. As she locked up Vainglory's office, she took a deep breath-

"HEY, SKEETS, ANT!" Vinyl shouted, knowing the two 'technicians' that ostensibly kept Monochrome running would be slacking until prodded. "I've got a special project for you two tonight!"

The sound of terribly hidden whispers and poker chips being shuffled away was quickly followed by scampering hooves. Two ponies - a tall, lanky yellow pegasus, and a taller, muscular earth stallion about the size of your average buffalo - came running in.

"Eh, you called, Vinyl?"

The white unicorn grinned. "Yeah. First - everything check out today? Light lines, sound lines, everything's in good working order?"

"Eeyup," the larger stallion agreed. "Everything's ready and waiting."

"Great! Because tonight, I've got a special project for you. I need you to go downstairs and retrieve-" She lifted a key from around her neck with great fanfare, levitating it to the taller of the two with a smirk. "- my personal gear."

Octavia looked at the door. For a moment, she thought about heading back - it wasn't too late, she could just stay up all night and wing it, after all - but shook her head. She had made a plan. She had committed; now came execution. She knocked on the large door, the old wood making deep resounding beats with each slap of a hoof.

No answer. One moment became two, became three. Behind her in the street, the darkness was starting to overtake Canterlot, lamplighters racing the sunset and sneaking a spark in before the wind rushing between the buildings could snuff the flames out.

Octavia was just about to turn away when a well-dressed pony answered the door. He was unfamiliar to Octavia, and wore the frown on his face like a general might wear their stars. "Yes... can I help you?"

"Ah... yes," Octavia stammered, before bringing herself to her full height, trying to clear her throat surreptitiously. "Are Master Bluebell's parents home?"

"They are indisposed at the moment," the butler answered stiffly, looking down at the porch landing as if he were staring at a particularly distasteful bug. "I would be happy to pass along a message."

"Ah. Well, please inform them that I will not be able to tutor their son tomorrow." Octavia gave an awkward, apologetic smile. "Personal issues have come up."

"I will tell them," the butler responded. Without another word, the door closed. Although it had not been slammed in her face, the sound of old brass latching inside the old wooden door was clear.

"Thank you," Octavia groused towards the closed door. Once she was sure the butler had stepped away, she shook her mane out and hung her head. Sometimes I just don't know why I put up with this city.

Looking at the skyline and seeing the sun falling ever closer towards the horizon, Octavia begrudgingly lifted her hooves and started towards the next house. Just two more houses to go...

With her glasses off, Vinyl looked out over the club and had to grin. It was a good turnout tonight - and they were all here to see her. The bar was selling drinks, ponies were bouncing in the floor, couples were flirting off in the corner, and the mood was energetic. They came to have a good time - and they knew she could deliver. This was always a great way to start a night.

A few moments ago, she had queued up a high-energy dance song into the club's standard Top 40 rotation - not one that had been off the charts long enough to bring offense, but one that carried the message that the beats were about to pick up. As the high-tempo song started off, Vinyl's magic expertly manipulated her rig from across the room, crossfading from the dance remix of a boyband's latest chart-topper to her electronica standard. A few excited calls rose above the crowd as the song started up - at least a few souls here had come for her music - and the dance floor only got more crowded as ponies exited the corridors and entered the dance space.

This day was going to be perfect.

Switching her glasses onto her head, Vinyl dropped back into her stage persona. Another set of cries and appreciative hoofstomps shook the club as she climbed onto the podium, giving a wave as she set the final bridge to automatically repeat on low, the driving beat underpinning her words.

"Good evening, Monochrome!"

She waited as the roar of applause started to taper off before she continued.

"Another Wednesday, another Wubsday. Middle of the week, and we are feeling it, am I right?"

A roar of agreement sounded through the club. All eyes were on her, and she flashed a calculatingly smug grin as she spun.

"We've all brought in frustrations, we've all brought in stresses, and it's time to get free! Everypony's got some kinks in their stride to work out, don't we?" Not bothering to listen to the affirming call, DJ PON-3 twisted her hips just so (knowing full well some eyes would follow it) as she walked over to the center of the podium, leaning over a pile of machinery.

"That's why I've got something special tonight. Monochrome, give me a rumble!"

As the calls became hooffalls, DJ PON-3 lifted her hooves up high, daring the club to rise with each hoof thrown skywards. After two more calls, the rumble from their stomps grew into a deep rumble that shook the building like an oncoming thunderstorm.

"Tonight! It's a Club Monochrome debut! I'd like everypony to give a warm welcome to..."

With a theatrical smirk, DJ PON-3 spun around, making sure to exaggerate the way she bucked backwards to hit the head-high power switch, the lights dimming in the club for just a moment as the machine sucked down the building's power like a hungry dragon-

"- my BASS CANNON!"

The "cannon" unfolded before the club, the neon around each speaker matching DJ PON-3's mane, lighting in two-tone electric blue as an unknown colt narrated an old slogan - the opening to a song far deeper than Monochrome's usual fare. The "cannon" blinked in time, cobalt blue rising and falling with the bass pulse.

They're asked for the wubs, Vinyl smirked behind her glasses. And by Celestia, I'm giving 'em!

The beat soon dropped yet again, becoming a deeper, driving rhythm - not as fast as her usual fare, but the ponies in the dance club soon found the rhythm with their bodies, stomps and sways of the body replacing the usual high-energy cantering that graced the dance floor. Along the edge of the club, a few ponies weren't joining in, a few peeling off with looks of disappointment - and for a few, of disgust, as the dancing shifted from the relatively 'clean' high-energy cantercore to the much more openly sexual dance moves associated with proper dubstep, hips bouncing in time and ponies pairing off on the dance floor.

DJ PON-3 grinned, mentally matching time as she queued up the next song. The club was taking to proper dubstep incredibly well - not the marketable, watered-down stuff that normally made the cut, but the stuff that dared ponies to push themselves further, to throw their bodies into the beat. As another sample of a pop staple announced the transition into the next song, she watched the crowd carefully, seeing more ponies pull themselves away from drinks and corridors into the dance floor, flares of blue from her cannon in counterpoint with the beat.

"So what are you going to do to make it right?"

Octavia stammered, her ears falling back instinctively away from her student's father. "I... I won't be charging for tomorrow, of course, and I do apologize for the trouble-"

"Of course you would, you don't have to deal with that little brat tomorrow, apologizing is easy." The stallion stuck out his hoof, all but growling. "I'm talking about my compensation. Now I have to deal with him tomorrow, and we've already made plans, we're going to have to pay for a sitter instead of you. I'll take the hundred bits to watch him now, and another twenty for my trouble." He tugged his hoof twice towards himself. "Come on, my little pony, chop chop."

"I-" Without realizing, Octavia took a step back. "I'm afraid I don't keep that kind of coin on me..."

"Of course not," he growled. "She's a wastrel, too," he said in a voice he obviously didn't intend Octavia to hear. "You know what? Don't worry about tomorrow. Or any weekend from now on," he barked, as the door slammed in front of her. The hard bite of old hardwood against the marble doorframe made a sharp crack, the sound causing Octavia's heart to skip a beat. Muffled shouts of were audible through the door, the old house's floor shaking under furious stomps.

Turning away, Octavia started to head back home, her head hanging down low. Her legs felt as weak as a wet towel, having no grace or poise in her steps. Am I really just a glorified foalsitter? She briefly considered her cutie mark, then sighed and let her head hang. Is this what I was meant to become...? She sighed, and just let herself lean against the wrought iron fencing, doing her best to quell a shaking from deep inside. If she started shaking, she would start crying. And if she began crying, in public, with no care to whomever saw her then - that would just be uncouth.

Octavia sniffled a moment. I could really use somepony to lean on right now.

That thought struck her, as she recalled the original reason she had headed out - the reason her schedule had changed. By all logic, she should be angry with Vinyl; for ruining her sleep schedule, for stepping on her heart so casually the morning morning. For getting her drunk. For waking up beside her with those hooves so casually thrown over her chest...

Octavia swallowed, clearing her dry throat. "Mother... I think I've made a terrible mistake."

Running a hoof through her mane to knock it back into place, Octavia rose to her feet again. With a deep breath to steady herself, she looked up towards the city on the hill, where Monochrome waited.

"But I know I can right it."

Canterlot was not only a capital, but it was an example; Equestria's famous "shining city on a hill" was just as much a curated piece of art as a living, breathing metropolis. House plans had to be approved by a triumvrate consisting of an engineer, a classicist, and a modern artist. Roads were tended to by dedicated teams of lamplighters, arborists, and bricklayers. Even common guards wore armor that shone like gold. And of course, the noise ordinances were the strictest Equestrian law could provide. It was this latter fact that ruffled Vainglory's coiffure.

From his office over the bar, Monochrome's owner had the best view of the goings-on in the club. From behind blinds he could look down onto the dance floor and see just how the his little establishment was doing, in terms of action at the till and movement in the doors. But the one thing he didn't do was hear the goings-on - his soundproofed box above the floor.

DJ PON-3's bass cannon defied all soundproofing.

Vainglory gave a little snort. It was scandalous enough that his fortune was based on the backs of such common folk, but the driving rhythm that shook through his club was in flagrant violation of Canterlot law. Of course, the novelty of it was keeping his little establishment busy - even at this time of night, there was a line outside - but that line would soon have the boys in brass showing up on his doorstep.

Looking down onto the dancefloor, the noble pegasus tugged open the blinds. Another glowing square of light in the club went unnoticed by most dancers, but it was obvious from the raised podium - especially with the silhouette of a lanky pegasus in the window. After a few moments, DJ PON-3 looked up and met Vainglory's gaze, then trotted over to the microphone. He didn't hear whatever she had to say - but she punched a hoof into the air and the bass shaking a hoof became a rapid, driving beat, one that caused half the club to rear in excitement (save the pegasi bounding skyward in excitement). For once, he noted, the smile on her face wasn't the calculated grin of a performer; her smile was wide as her hips bounced and a hoof tapped against a railing, matching the beats her 'cannon' was throwing into the club. She gave one more wave which caused the club to raise hooves in response, and then snuck into the club.

Sneaking into the darkened pathways of the club, DJ PON-3 headed up to the owner's booth. When she hit the trick latch that opened the door, a brief burst of strings and beats broke through the soundproofed door, making Vainglory grit his teeth.

"Yo, what's up, boss ma-"

"Are you MAD?"

The lanky pegasus rose to his full height, his wings splayed out as he challenged her. As usual, she didn't back down, her usual smirk on her muzzle.

"I haven't heard such a cacophony since I was last in - Detrot," Vainglory shouted, his voice unrestrained. "And where did you get that monstrosity at?"

"My bass cannon? I brought that when you first added me to the rotation," DJ PON-3 said, her voice level but smug. "You said I had full rights to set up whatever I needed. I just haven't had a chance to use it yet-"

"Well, get that thing off my stage," Vainglory hissed. "We've had noise complaints." A little white lie - he didn't know for a fact any of those who had left at the start of Vinyl's dubstep burst had made a complaint - but it was a statement he'd make a truth himself if he had to. "Are you trying to bring the Guard down on us?"

The DJ shrugged, and leaned against a wall. "Psssht - relax, man," she snorted, her red eyes meeting his over her lenses. "I just had a-"

one night stand with my best friend out of nowhere

"really weird night." She looked out over the club, and grinned to herself, another glow of magic causing the equipment to transition. I'll keep it level. "Besides. It's not like the guard has anything to find in the books, now, is it?"

Vainglory sputtered, launching himself up into the air in surprise. "What-" His glare was proud. "Just what are you implying, Vinyl Scratch?"

She snickered and turned around, looking at him over her shoulder. "Nothing. Just making you a promise. You worry about your gig," she said, tilting her head in the direction of the bar. "And I'll keep the ponies lined up." With that, the DJ turned to go, another burst of sound in his office, the door slamming behind her and ringing in the noble's ears.

"This has gone far enough, Vinyl Scratch." Vainglory barked, watching her take her place back on the podium. "You do not defy me in my club..."

The building was unmistakable - few buildings in Canterlot got away with being a plain, rectangular box. However, the pattern along the outside - a checkerboard pattern in stark white and black, with the images of askew chess pieces scattered over the occasional space. And if Octavia had any questions remaining about the club she was going to, she could just follow the pounding sound, a pulse that filled the streets and drew the ears - the line outside the club drew the eyes.

She had been waiting in the queue since just after sunset; Octavia had taken the time to watch the waxing full moon rising into the sky, lighting the world below in a cooler version of the day. That had occupied her attention for a few hours, but even a poet's soul gets bored of just observing.

Do they always make you wait this long...?

She was only ten away from entering the club when she saw the uniformed guard give her one look and wave at her. After she pointed to herself and he confirmed with another wave of his hoof, Octavia reluctantly broke the queue and came trotting over. When it occurred to her that Vinyl probably told the guard what she looked like, she gave a little smile trotted over.

Well! At least something is going right tonight-

"Hey. You DJ PON-3's roommate?"

"Why, yes," Octavia beamed, feeling some of her old poise return. "I just need to ask her something between sets-"

"Beat it."

Octavia's smile didn't fall, although her eye twitched. "I'm sorry. What did you just say..."

"Run along. Scram. Skedaddle," the dayglow orange bouncer said. "I got special instructions tonight - not to let in a gray mare with a pink treble clef. And you, a gray mare with a pink treble clef, fit the bill." Looking down on Octavia, he smirked. "Besides, this really isn't the gig for a pony like you. So n'entrez pas, s'il vous plait."

Octavia sputtered. "You can't possibly be serious. Vinyl told you-"

"I'm not saying who said what," the bouncer barked, advancing on Octavia, looking down to her. "But please do not make this any harder than it has to be."

For a moment, Octavia struggled with her words, gaping like a fish in shock... but only a moment. He was, after all, in the right; he was the one who had the ability to allow entry, and he could permit or deny any pony he felt like. So, with her ears wilting backwards, she sighed and hung her head. "My apologies, sir. I'll be on my way."

Why can't fixing things be easy for once?

Stepping under the rope fence, Octavia started to head out. But his words turned in her head, thinking of ways to get in. As she thought of his specific words, Octavia spotted a loophole.

A loophole big enough for a stallion to step through.

"The things I do for you, Vinyl," Octavia grumbled, as her head realized what her heart had already decided on as her next course of action. "I swear, you're corrupting me..."

The hard introduction of the night had faded to her far more traditional mix of high-energy cantercore. After all, unusually for her Wednesday slot, the house was packed - the club was obviously digging the deep bass, ponies bouncing in time to the cannon's glow. However, Vainglory's words rung harshly in DJ PON-3's ears, and she knew he would be staring down at her from his office, waiting for her to bring the 'noise' down to a level his precious ears would tolerate. She had to do this right.

As the mix faded out, DJ PON-3 automatically set a sample to loop, turning down the volume so she could be heard over it. Raising a hoof, she waved as she called into the microphone: "Halfway through the night! Is everypony having fun out there?"

Half the ponies reared back in response; the other half beat their hooves in time to the bass underpinning.

"Great to hear it!" she grinned, swaying before the mic. "But I've been talking with some of you. I've heard that some of you don't like the way the music's gone tonight. I admit, it's been a bit experimental."

The crowd rose again - some agreeing, some in confusion - and the DJ shook her mane out, negating all of them. "But I've been listening to you all. And I agree." She gave an impish smirk. "I'm sorry I gave you all a fright, and I'll make it right now."

All eyes in the club were on her - and she threw a switch.

"It's time to turn it up."

As her cannon burst back into life, DJ PON-3 looked up at the owner's window - and, lifting her glasses up for just a moment - tugged her eyelid down, revealing the reds of her eyes and showing Vainglory just what she thought of his "cacophony." Grinning, she bounced across the floor. Forget bosses and laws and roommates - the club loved her. And she loved them right back.

"C'mon, Monocrome, let's pick it up!"

The practice of body sculpting wasn't quite illegal, but it wasn't quite approved of by common society. Outside of certain theraputic uses, changing one's body was considered cowardly at best, cheating at worst. That did not stop a steady stream of ponies from visiting shapers, each and every day, in every major city in Equestria. Some did it to become more attractive; some did it to feel stronger; some just felt like exploring life as a pegasus or unicorn or earth pony; and for some rich nobles with more bits than tact, just to take on a new look. Of course, transformations were magical, and as such, never lasted longer than a spell's duration; this meant you had to continually go to the shaper's to get a new spell cast. But body sculpting was the sort of magic that zebra alchemy excelled.

Pasuaji gave a little snort as he circled his hut. Tiny huts in the back alleys of town were par for the course for any shaper. He would have much rather had a nice little doctor's office, with receptionists to set up meetings and accountants to handle billing and therapists to screen and interview patients and a few cute nurses to hit on, all shaped to demonstrate his skill. But that would require customers who were reasonable ponies, and his line of work specialized in ponies who were so dissatisfied with their bodies that they'd rather hand over hundreds of bits than make changes to their lives. Nopony ever made appointments; they all showed up on a whim, clandestine and embarrassed yet expecting perfection to their demands. (For the latter, Pasuaji considered his job only one part magic, to four parts fortune teller and two parts therapist.) Being a shaper meant you took the jobs you got; with no appointments, one could not predict whether a customer would be the first of many more to come, or the last he would see in a day. There was no way of knowing if the pony was just a thrillseeker hoping to get a new rush in a new form, a drama queen wanting their bodies to match their inflated egos, someone who genuinely needed therapeutic aid which his magic could or a basket case who would open up. Looking at the customer that had just graced his door, Pasuaji was suspecting the last group applied.

"Hello, and welcome to Pasuaji's Parlour," he said, putting on his thickest zebracan accent. "I am Pasuaji, and my spells are sure to aid your body and put your mind at ease. Please, have a seat, miss..."

"Philharmonica," the grey mare said. She was looking side to side, nervously casting glances about the claustrophobic room. Windows would have made the room seem much more open, but a shaper whose office had windows would find their usual clientèle would avoid their practice, the skittish ponies certain someone would be peeking inside as they were changed. "I've heard about the practice from a-a friend..."

"Only good things, I hope." From the pause in her voice, he knew he'd have to be gentle. "What brings you to my practice, miss Philharmonica?"

Octavia shifted where she sat, not quite comfortable on the itchy old rug but not quite wanting to stand. "Well... there's this club."

"Ah... and you want to look your best?" The zebra gave a grandiose grin. "Well, I assure you I would be glad to help - and such a pattern of feminine beauty as I see before me, would make the job quite simple..."

"No! No. That's... not quite what I want." Her eyes slid across the room, from the old zebracan artifacts to the posters showing potential changes to the shelves of mysterious reagents in their tightly stoppered flasks.

"Oh?" Pasuaji did his best to keep his smile level, even as his heart sank. "Then what change would you like to see affected, miss Philharmonica?"

Octavia could not quite face Pasuaji, her voice so low that her words didn't rise above the level of the fan.

"Please speak up, miss. We are speaking about changes to your body - we cannot afford to mince words."

"I need you to make me into a colt."

Pasuaji nodded. Well, at least it's a simple task. I thought she was going to ask for something difficult like being made into a nightpony. "That, I can do, surely. However, this is a bit beyond the standard fare of a shaper's repetroire, and would require less common reagents. I would need..." He hemmed and hawed, theatrically looking around his hut as he 'considered' the difficulty, "say, one hundred bits."

"A hundred? Well..." She cringed. "I have... sixty-five on me."

"Well, then I'll let you know I'm open for another four hours yet, if you want to do it tonight," Pasuaji noted. "And every day starting after noon. I'll warn you, however, that I usually do better with these sorts of requests with advanced notice; after all, age-changing reagents are rare..."

Olivia coughed. "I'm sorry. Age-changing?"

"Well, yes," Pasuaji said, a little smile on his lips. "After all - you wanted to be made a colt, correct?"

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Ah. Well, then, miss Philharmonica; tell me what you do want."

Octavia hung her head. "It's... my roommate. We had a fight - and she doesn't want to talk to me. So in order to see her tonight, I need to sneak into a club. They've banned a mare of my description from entering -" her smile became a nervous grin - "so I thought they'd have no grounds to exclude a stallion."

Pasuaji's look was flatter than a vuvuzela's call. "And you think they'll allow you in now that you're a colt."

Octavia met that look, coughed, then gave a hopeful little grin. "Yes?"

The zebra took a moment to remind himself that facehoofing in front of a customer would likely cost him said customer, and put on a brave face. "Well, we can be sure to try. Now, a basic gender-shfting is seventy-five bits... but I can cut off ten as a one-time deal, just so you can try my services. Now, is there anything else you are thinking of - please be exact?"

"No. I'm fine being just plain me, however I would look as a regular stallion," Octavia said. "My friend, she had lots of ... sculpting -"

and what fine sculpting it was! -

"- but I want to just blend into a crowd, not stand out."

Pasuaji nodded, and bit back a comment about 'blending in' being harder than standing out, but rose. "I believe we can accommodate you." Rising, he opened the door to the back room with a hoof. "Please, this way, miss Philharmonica."

Stepping inside, the room in question looked like a particularly tidy closet. Shelves along all walls revealed the fact that the reagents in the front room were only the overflow of the reagent supply in the back, everything from tiny amounts kept behind locked glass, to baskets full of gems, to dried plants and things that Octavia hoped only looked like animals. After manning a pump in the corner Pasuaji filled a large metal cauldron in the center of the room with water that smelled of sulfur and copper, some of which flashed to steam the moment it hit the cauldron.

"Careful, miss - don't breathe this."

As he flew around the room, Pasuaji spoke in his native Zebracan, a rapid-fire stream of syllables; Zebracan did with suffixes what Equestrian did with consonants and word order, so every word seemed, to Octavia's ears, to be full of florid vowels and long, punctilious words. Either way, Pasuaji was ignoring Octavia's comments or actively shushing her, so she stayed quiet, sitting on her haunches by the doorway. The stream of words occasionally broke back into regular Equestrian, as Pasuaji would explain one reagent or another -

"Emerald, I think; a quiet strength rather than fiery passionate muscles of ruby or svelte, lean sapphire-"

"Pickled zhoryana root suits earth ponies just fine, keeps the spells nice and stable for days and days-"

"Gumdrops - trust me, you didn't ask for it but after what you've been through tonight I can tell your hair could use it-"

"Just a hint of aluminum powder. Not too much, or you'd take in a lethal dose! Oh, come now, miss Philharmonica, that was just a little shaper humor..."

After fifteen minutes or so, Pasuaji gave a smile, and stirred his brew with a stone rod that seemed half staff and half pestle, giving a small grin.

"Well, now. We seem to have everything in order. Are you ready, miss Philharmonica?"

"As I'll ever be," she laughed wanly, standing up and giving herself a dusting off.

"Good, good. Now that it's done, take a whiff. Doesn't it just smell like... virility to you?"

Octavia rose up on one hoof and looked into the swirming mixture. "I'm not sure. It smells like... moss, and new shoes, and dusty old books..."

The mare didn't have time to respond, as she felt a pair of hooves on the back of her neck, knocking her forwards and her head under the roiling water. Before she could struggle, Pasuaji lifted his voice, howling in old Zebracan:

< O, spirits of air and water, of flesh and bone!
Hear my call and heed this mare's wishes-
and let her form be remolded! >

Just as suddenly as he had pushed her, he was pulling her up by the shoulders, the cellist sputtering and coughing to catch a breath, drenched from the shoulders up.

"What in the world was that?"

"Your spell, sir. Warned ponies resist spells; they fixate on the change, and as such, prevent it. This will keep your spell much more stable, for much longer. Besides, immersion is much quicker than consumption when it concerns external changes." Pasuaji smiled smugly. "You haven't even noticed your voice changing, have you?"

Octavia blinked. "I... no." Now, he coughed, and looked down at himself. He mostly looked the same, looking down at his hooves, but... "Mirror. I need a mirror."

Pasuaji laughed politely, and indicated the back of the door. "Take a look and be amazed, Mister Philharmonica."

The stallion that met Octavia's gaze in the mirror was... short. And kind of weak looking. But the devil was in details of the form. His muzzle, once short and round, was now long and proud; the brow was strong and broad, and the stance was just a little wider now. There was more muscle tone in the shoulders and flanks, and the hips were stronger over strong limbs. And just beside those hips-

"Yes, you are a complete stallion," Pasuaji said with a practiced smile.

Octavia looked at his reflection in the mirror. "Wow." The motion completely matched his mind, and the face was almost identical. Besides bone structure - and that sharp little goatee, of course. "Wow." Octavia cleared his throat, and squinted. "I guess I finally found a way to drop my voice a little lower..."

"It does suit you," the zebra smiled. "And I wish you well at the club tonight."

"I... there are no words, Pasuaji." Octavia grinned, and reared up to give the zebra a tight hug. "Thank you."

Pasuaji coughed, and gave an awkward grin. A few moments ago, having Octavia hugging him like that might have given him quite the reaction, but Octavia was no longer in such a state. "... you will need to work on your mannerisms, however. Remember, you are a gentleman - it behooves you to act the part."

"Oh... right," Octavia coughed, as he sat back. "Any advice?"

"Yes - just keep the nobility in mind. Treat her the way you would have wanted to be treated by a gentlemen. And more than that..." Pasuaji gave a little grin. "Flowers the first date, candy the second, kisses the third, and fuck the fourth."

Octavia gasped, and Pasuaji gave a laugh - not one of his practiced ones, but a deep belly laugh, as he clapped Octavia on the shoulder.

"That's just a warning," he smiled. "You are going to be treated as one of the guys now, Mister Philharmonica. Ponies will treat you differently. Look at you differently. Talk to you differently. You aren't being treated as less, or more - this is just another way to look at the life you live. Enjoy yourself - and you'll enjoy your new body."

Octavia re-composed himself, and nodded, giving a smile. "I will try. Thank you, again."

"Any time. Now, have a good night, sir - and good luck with your fillyfriend."

Instinctively, he tried to explain the relationship he shared with Vinyl - but the cellist smiled and shook his head. Octavia didn't feel like correcting him.

The club's beats could now be heard down the road and around the corner, bouncing off of nearby buildings, loud enough one could be forgiven for thinking they were in downtown Trottingham. Two tall stallions - a dark unicorn, and a pastel green earth pony - were already curious when a well-coiffured red pegasus ran towards them.

"Guards, please, help! She's out of control! It's just-" he lifted a hoof to his forehead, and flopped back dramatically - "dreadful!"

The two guards shared a brief look before the unicorn stepped forwards. "Is this something to do with that noise we hear?"

"Oh, absolutely!" Vainglory gave a gasp, his chest heaving from a ragged sob. "I tried to tell her to stop, but she just wouldn't quit - she just went to taunt me by going even louder! She's made a mockery of my club!"

The earth pony frowned. "You mean to say this is your club making the noise?"

At that, the pegasus twitched, realizing his potential error - before throwing himself before the two of them. "Please! You've got to do something about her!"

The two guardsponies rolled their eyes, but nods. "Of course, sir. We'll just need to bring you down to the station to file a report, and make a statement..."

"Oh, thank you, thank you," Vainglory smiled, his smile saccharine and forced, rising with practiced weakness. "You don't know how much of a relief this is..."

This isn't so bad, really.

The walk back to the club had been uneventful - pleasant, really. Oh, there was a slight stirring here or there; the fact that she had that sliding between her thighs hadn't gone completely unnoticed. But it was nowhere near the constant droning sensation Vinyl had complained about; instead, the thing Octavia noticed the most was his new diaphragm. Every breath seemed to come from far deeper inside him, suiting his deeper voice; combined with his taller, more powerful build, the trip was pleasant. Some part of him actually wanted to spend a day just - jogging!

And his new look passed entirely without comment; despite his fears, he found himself constantly forgetting about his change. In fact, the only way he knew he was changed was how ponies looked at him; now stallions showed utterly no interest in him, whereas before Octavia would often endure a second glance or eyes tracing back to the area of her cutie mark.

He noted mares weren't giving his new form the same sort of twice-over. He didn't know whether or not to be glad for this.

Rounding the corner, what surprised Octavia was not the sound of the club - but the fact that there was still a line. It had to be only an hour before last call, and there was still a dozen ponies waiting by the front, waiting to be let in; the ponies in line still seemed to be excited, as if they were relatively recent arrivals, eager rather than despondent. Slipping into line, he hoped to escape notice -

• and jumped about twice his height when something tapped him in the shoulder.

"Yo, Treble Clef!" came a deep bassoon call. "I thought I told you to beat-"

As Octavia's heart went through a hard reboot, the orange pony held his hoof out at the stallion. His jaw flapped a few times. He tried to pick it up, then it flapped about.

"Wait. Weren't you-?"

"Was I what?" Octavia took his time to clear his throat, and tugged on his bowtie, resituating it.

"You were- that was-" The security guard grunted, and stomped a hoof. "I already threw you out!"

"No - actually, you didn't throw anyone out. You were just told not to let anyone in." Octavia straightened himself out, and rose to his full height, looking down. "And do I look like her to you?"

"...no," Beat Stick agreed, hissing through his teeth.

"Well, then. I think I'll get back in line." Octavia turned to face towards the door, but soon found himself being yanked by the bowtie, to face the security pony once more.

"You - you're determined, aren't you." It was not a question - but hissed quietly enough to stay private.

Octavia knocked Beat Stick's hoof away, and adjusted his collar. "I'm going to set things to right tonight. Not tomorrow, not three days from now - tonight."

Beat Stick looked Octavia in the eyes, darting from one to the next. Finally, he snorted. "One chance. If you didn't live with Vinyl, I wouldn't give you even that. Cause one issue and you're never coming back. Do I make myself clear?"

"As sunrise," Octavia agreed.

The orange guard still frowned - but rose. "Back in line," he grumbled.

Octavia let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding back.

It's certainly loud.

The club was still fairly busy. Walking in the brighter 'corridors', Octavia was lit in bright light, separated by blocks of dancers only by custom and a curtain of light. The music was bright - something Octavia found far too upbeat for the hour.

Well, I made it in... what now?

Wandering the brightly lit aisles, Octavia tried to figure out what the station could be. After all, he had imagined sneaking in, seeing Vinyl, and... putting their friendship back to rights... somehow. Planning on a few hours of sleep wasn't quite Octavia's strong suit.

"Now, where are you hiding, Vinyl..."

The dance floor was split into roughly six "dancing" areas - plus a few more private nooks in the dark, off against each wall. Octavia had thought he would have seen Vinyl's spiky hair bouncing above the crowd - or knowing how much she went off on showmanship, standing on some speakers like a throne.

Find the system, find Vinyl.

He didn't notice a pair of eyes following him as he circled the club; after returning back by the entrance, Octavia stalked the other way, craning to look over the crowd. But, still, there were no telltale shouts over the music as it dropped into a slower breakbeat, heavy on the synth.

Shouldn't there have been some sort of... transition?

Octavia grumbled. "I don't have any idea where she's hiding..."

"Hiding? I'm right here."

Octavia whirled - and the pony who faced her wasn't Vinyl Scratch at all. But she seemed to be quite interested in Octavia, regardless.

"Looking for something?" The fuschia pegasus leaned in with a grin. "I'm sure I can help you find whatever it may be..."

"I would appreciate that," Octavia said. "I'm trying to find the - stage or podium."

The pegasus looked at Octavia with disbelief, before lifting a hoof to point towards the stage. "It's literally the only raised platform in the room. You can't miss it."

Octavia frowned. "But Vi- erm, the DJ - isn't there."

The regular's look of disbelief became a smug smirk. "Well, yeah. She's not here right now..."

"Not here? But... I..." Octavia sputtered. Vinyl's words came floating back: "Every DJ has some long songs in their sets. It gives you an excuse to check cables, or mingle to get a read on the crowd, or even just water the flowers."

"Ah. I suppose that makes sense. Thank you for your help, miss..." Octavia said, his mood brightening.

"Cloud Kicker," she smirked, resting a hoof on his chest - friendly but far too forwards for Octavia's tastes. "And you are?"

"Octaviah..." Clearing his throat, the former mare shook his head and righted his throat. "Octavius. Octavius Philharmonica."

The Philharmonica name seemed to suitably impress the pegasus, who nonetheless continued to grin. "Well met, Octavius. Now come on," the lean pegasus insisted. "You can't just ask a filly for help then not even invite her to dance!" Her smile was broad, and 'Octavius' felt surprisingly like a rabbit being surveyed by a cat.

"O-of course not, miss," Octavius smiled weakly. "Would you care to-to dance?"

That grin grew wide, showing the hint of teeth. Definately predatory. Feeling the leading edge of a wing tugging him around the neck - a feeling Octavius was not familiar with, making him blush - he was pulled into the nearest dance floor, the bright lights of the hallways fading to the dim light of the dancefloor. Cloud Kicker's bright mane easily shone in the light, but her darker body nearly disappeared, reminding Octavius of nothing so much as a Cheshire cat.

"Come on, babe," that grin appeared, a nip at his shoulder. "I know you have to have some moves in there..."

"I've been told such," Octavius agreed, keeping his eyes on Cloud Kicker in the dim light - only to find she had disappeared. He started to whirl before he felt Cloud Kicker on the other side of him, the touch a flank pressing against his, moving in on the beat.

"It'll be easier this way," she smirked, as she leaned up against the dark grey mare. "Now, let's try again..."

Lifting his hoof, Octavius let Cloud kicker step in. But to his surprise, when she stepped back, the stallion stepped back - the rhythm of the 'laughter' in the music drawing him along with her. It was a simple beat, really.

"Strange song."

"Works, though. It's been strange all night. But a good kind of strange."

As Cloud Kicker tossed her head back, Octavius' muzzle followed along - identical to the moves he had done with Vinyl, including as his muzzle nuzzled at her neck, a brief brush of lips against her fur there. Cloud Kicker whickered in surprise, her wings rising and ruffling beside her, pressing into his flank before coming back to rest at her sides.

"Well," she smirked, as the song bounced back, her muzzle under his. "You're certainly bold."

"I apologize," Octavius said, a warm half-smile on his face. He could feel a faint stirring despite himself, a scent that he could recognize as his own rising in the club's sweaty atmosphere. "You could say I'm new to this."

"Don't be sorry," Cloud Kicker smirked. "After all, fortune favors the bold..."

Her eyes stayed on his, squinted in the dim light, as that smirk grew into a predatory grin - moving to face him, the pegasus flaring her wings just a little, moving to face Octavius, stepping in counterpoint to him.

"Perhaps it does," Octavius agreed. He was trying to keep his voice noncommittal - it was just a dance, he told himself. Just some pleasantries. But she didn't seem to take it that way.

"Well, then," she smirked. "Only one way to find out..."

Octavius didn't have time to react; once her hoof was on his shoulder, her lips were on his in moments, swaying to the music, lips to lips. After a moment, she pulled away with a smug look on her face.

"How does being bold strike you, then?"

"I... uhm..." Octavius blinked in surprise, then took half a step back, rose appearing on his grey cheeks. "I'm not... aheh." Octavius gave a tug on his collar. "I didn't think I was prepared for this."

"Perhaps so," the pegasus giggled. "But your body looks plenty ready to me," she cooed, as her eyes pointedly looked down, then back up.

"I don't know what you - mean..." As Octavius' eyes followed the pegasus', his mouth went dry as he saw that she saw - hanging between his legs and at full sail, swaying below him. In the darkness of the club, the color couldn't be made out - but the dark, phallic silhouette against the dim floor was plain to see. Not to mention, now that Octavius was aware of it, of its low throbbing, bare in the air of the club...

With a yipe of surprise, Octavius immediately sat down in the dance floor, wincing as he crushed his new equipment underneath his weight but pressing even more firmly down upon himself, whining at the feeling but doing his best to hide his stallionhood from view.

"Awh - what's the matter?" Cloud Kicker smirked, circling around him... her voice low and playful. "Never got excited on the dance floor before?"

"For a matter of fact, no," Octavius muttered darkly. "This has never happened before. I didn't even have this before tonight."

"Oh. Oh!" Cloud Kicker's smile went from predatory to friendly again, a hoof raised in apology. "Well... sorry if I came on too strong. But... well, to be honest," she grinned, "No I'm not. You make a cute stallion - wanna bang?"

Cloud Kicker couldn't help but laugh out loud at the way Octavius' mouth flopped about like a fish.

"Seriously, you're cute. But if you're not into it, that's okay, babe."

Octavius looked up, rising tenderly back to his hooves. "Well... thanks, I think," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hoof. "I'm sorry to have led you on. See, I came here looking for-"

A bust of static burst out of the main speakers. "YO! WHAT IS UP, MONOCHROME!"

Up on the stage, a stallion barely the age of a colt in far too many gold chains waved his hooves, failing about.

"DJ Skeets is in da hizz-ouse!"

Octavius looked at the near-colt that twirled on the stage, bouncing like a kid's show host doing his best to hold back a case of stage fright.

"That... is not Vinyl."

"Vinyl? You mean the DJ that started the night?" Cloud Kicker tilted her head.

"Yes. She goes by names PON-3... and COL-7," Octavius stated. "What happened to her?"

"Oh, yeah! It was awesome," Cloud Kicker grinned. "It was the most metal thing I've seen..."

"What was?" His voice shook with fear. "Please tell me, Cloud Kicker," Octavius pleaded. "Where. Is. Vinyl."

"Oh. They took her away half an hour ago."

Octavius grabbed Cloud Kicker by the shoulders, dragging him bodily. "Who. Where. Why?"

Cloud Kicker squirmed, flailing about and trying to take off to get out of the crazy cellist's hooves. "The guard. To jail. Because her 'dubstep' broke noise violations." She smirked. "Not that I'd regret doing it for one moment... this has been some night."

Octavius winced, still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that Vinyl had been taken away. Then, with a defeated sigh, he hung his head. "This day just can't get worse, can it."

Cloud Kicker tilted her head. "Why- are you two..." Then she grinned again. "Oh. So she's your special somepony."

Octavius twirled, irritated. "No- maybe. But I need to talk to her." He stomped a hoof, and turned. "So if you'll excuse me, I'll-"

"Gonna spring her out of jail?"

Octavius froze, wilting. "... right. Talk to her. In jail."

Cloud Kicker gave a thoughtful little hum... then shrugged. "Eh, what the hay. Need a lift?"

"A lift?" Octavius looked over his shoulder. "You don't mean...?"

"Well, to get bail, then get her out. Noise violations are pretty cheap, think you have a hundred bits?"

"Er - yes, at home," Octavius nodded.

"Then it's settled," Cloud Kicker grinned, her wings flaring as she jumped into the lit hallways. "Let's go bust her out!"

Vainglory paced, his eyes never leaving Vinyl. For her own part, Vinyl stat in her own corner, smug.

They had been placed in different cells - Vinyl for noise violations, Vainglory for noise violations and for attempting to strike a royal guard. A few shouts and threats to add disorderly conduct to their charges had muted them both, but they kept up their facades: Vainglory's eyes promised doom and ruination, while Vinyl's nonchalant grin feigned a devil-may-care attitude. To Vainglory, the worst part was that Vinyl was quietly humming the song she had been kicked out on as if it was a victory anthem.

A large guardspony, a unicorn in deep blue and white, padded up to the cell. "Alright, Mrs. Scratch - you're free to go."

"What?" said both captives at once.

"Somepony came and posted bail. Now come on - we've got some paperwork to fill out."

"Awesome."

As the guard unlocked the door, Vainglory seethed. "This is an outrage! Why does that hooligan get to go free while I am locked in here like some common-"

"Back in line," the guard said, quickly rapping the bar with a baton. In return, Vainglory yelped, darting back.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have taken a swing at Mr. Nice Guard, then, Vainy," Vinyl subvocalized, sticking her tongue out at Vainglory with a devilmaycare grin as she followed behind the guard.

The guardspony led her out to the tiny office in back, presenting her a quill and a document. "Standard release paper. You are on your own reconnaissance until your court date. You are to be notified of your court date at the address you provide within a week's time. Upon release, you are not to leave the canton of Canterlot without official release. Any further charge will be considered a violation of bail, and you will be ineligible for further bail." His gaze met hers, but his frown didn't match her wide grin. "Do you understand your responsibilities and rights?"

"Sh'yeah." Vinyl Scratch was doing her best to stay on her best behavior, but she was practically ecstatic. She signed her name with only a small unnecessary flair to the quill, and the guard rolled it up.

"Everything's in order, then." returning her effects to her. "Alright, ma'am. Don't get in trouble."

"Me? Nah," Vinyl grinned, flipping her glasses back up over her ears. "I'll stay on this side of the line. Thanks, man."

Vinyl wondered who would have come by to bring her bail. Beat Stick, maybe Ant? Jam Session might, although I haven't seen him in a while...

"Vinyl?"

Vinyl Scratched turned her head at the sound, looking over the unfamiliar pegasus and earth stallion. "Yeah, that's me. Do I know-"

The pin finally dropped.

"... Tavi?"

"None other," the stallion grinned awkwardly. "I came to talk, but... you had already been invited elsewhere."

"Yeah, about that. I... kinda had some frustration to work out, so I took it out on stage." Vinyl grinned. "They loved it, though."

"Totally," Cloud Kicker chimed in, standing up herself. "Best show I've been at in ages."

"And who is this, hmm?" Vinyl gave a little grin, poking Octavius with a hoof. "Not a colt for a day and you've got this cute thing hanging off your flank?"

"What? No, I-"

"-have totally fallen for him," Cloud Kicker finished, sharing a conspiratorial wink with Vinyl behind Octavius' back. "But you know, I just flew this big lug over Canterlot and back, and that got me sore. I was thinking I could use some 'relaxation'..."

"Aw, yeah," Vinyl smirked, as she wrapped a hoof around Octavius' neck. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Cloud Kicker wrapped a leg around Octavius, smirking. "And what better way to thank the stallion who set you free?"

In unison, the two mischievous mares turned to face Octavius and purred, "Threesome."

Octavius' eyes flew open wide as he sat back, squeaking with surprise. "I... wha... you two... buh?"

Together, the unicorn and pegasus laughed, and smacked their hooves together.

"Alright, we broke him!"

The two mares leaned together laughing. Octavius' expression more than enough to keep them giggling.

"I think he's coming around," Cloud Kicker laughed. "So, Vinyl - we square for Fillydelphia?"

"Nah man, I think I owe you one on this. Busting me out, that's huge." Vinyl grinned and pulled Cloud Kicker into a hug. "Thanks for helping Tavi and me tonight."

""Twas my pleasure," Cloud Kicker smirked, as she pointed a hoof. "However, I think your coltfriend is starting to reboot, so you better make sure he gets home. See you around, Vy."

"Seeya, CK."

Vinyl's grin stayed on as she gave Octavius a warmer, more sincere hug. "C'mon, Octy," she smiled. "Let's go home."

The silence didn't last long. "So. Colt. New look for you."

"Yeah," Octavius sighed. "When I tried to enter the club, they wouldn't let me in because they said someone- wait." Octavius whirled, angry. "Did you tell them not to let me in?"

"Uhm... yeah, that would be a yes," Vinyl admitted, grinning sheepishly. "I was worried..."

"Worried about what," Octavius growled.

"Worried you'd try to start a fight," Vinyl said, sighing. "Kinda like you're doing now."

"We're not fighting!" Octavius shouted. "I just wanted to know why you locked me out!"

Vinyl spun around and barked, "Because you always do this!"

Octavius stopped in his tracks. Vinyl slid her glasses over her eyes, taking a moment to center herself, before continuing.

"You try to please everyone and solve everything. You never let - you never let things be," Vinyl muttered, turing back towards home. "Even when some time alone is really the only solution."

"Vinyl, I- I don't understand."

"Well, let's try this. Tell me what you were going to say."

"What?"

"I'm sure you had more to say than that," Vinyl smirked, making Octavius roll his eyes.

"Har de har. Well - I wasn't going to say anything. I was going to ask."

"Well, then, ask away," Vinyl said softly. "Quiet night, long walk."

"Right. Well - why were you so mad this morning? I thought that last night-" Octavius gulped. We haven't talked about it yet- "I thought last night was wonderful."

"Yeah? Well, good." Vinyl spat bitterly. "You seemed to enjoy yourself."

Octavius trotted a little faster, catching up with Vinyl. "What's wrong now, Vinyl - why are you still mad?"

"Mad? Why am I mad? Here's a question for you," Vinyl said, her voice low. "After all these years - why last night? Why did you finally say 'yes' last night?"

Octavius blinked. "'Finally'?" He quirked an eyebrow. "Last night was the first time you've hit on me, Vinyl."

Vinyl looked at Octavius through the sides of his glasses, red eyes meeting purple. "Octavius... I don't know where you've been the last few years..." Vinyl sighed heavily. "But last night definately was not the first time."

"Okay. There's been jokes and taunts, like you do," Octavius admitted. "But - those were parts of your pranks, your teases. You never meant anything by it."

Vinyl walked in silence for a moment, and Octavius followed close behind. After a few minutes, he wanted to reach out and touch her, but something about Vinyl felt... weak. Dangerously fragile.

"It was a bit earlier than that, Octy," Vinyl sighed. "Think back when we first met."

"That far? But that was back in - " Octavius blinked. "- music school..."

"Yeah. Crushes are hard at that age," Vinyl smiled wanly. "Especially when your crush doesn't even understand. It was worse than being turned down - nothing I did could just get it into your noggin that I was into you. After a while... I just gave up."

Octavius blinked. "But... we were friends."

"Yeah. The best," Vinyl smiled, facing Octavius again. "But... I didn't try romantically for a while. Just threw myself into the work - never regretted it, really. And now, here we are."

Octavius trotted forwards. "I'm sorry that we... that I..." He sighed. "Oh, Vinyl..." He stood in front of her, looking up. "Vinyl, I... I'm sorry I wasn't so good as a friend. But, what happened..." Octavius swallowed. "I don't regret it. Not for one moment."

"But I tricked you," Vinyl said.

Octavius blinked. "What?"

"You've always been a lightweight," Vinyl smiled wanly. "I never should have taken advantage of-"

The hoof striking Vinyl's face blindsided her; legs strong enough to lift a cello could pack quite a punch.

"Never let me hear you saying that ever again, Vinyl," Octavius said, growling. "You did not take adavantage of me, you never did and never have. Do you understand me?"

Vinyl nodded mutely, as she lifted up her hoof to rub her now-sore face.

Finally, realization dawned. "Oh Luna, did I just hit you?" Octavius squeaked like a colt as he scrambled to take a look, wincing. "I'm so sorry, Vinyl! I-"

"Pssh. It's okay, Tavi. Besides, it wasn't that bad." A bit of dark humor tugged at her lips. "You hit like a girl."

"Don't make me drop you," Octavius said, but had to smirk. "I am sorry for hitting you, but - you tend to do that, Vinyl."

"Do what?"

"Get wound up in yourself," Octavius smirked. "You forget that, sometimes, not everything that happens happens beause you did something wrong. And even if it is - you don't have to figure it out alone. You know you have friends, Vinyl."

"Yeah." Vinyl looked up to Octavius, and gave a little smile. "Guess I do, huh."

"Of course. Now come on," Octavius smiled. "From now on, Vinyl, let's... let's just forget the bad parts of the last few days. Misunderstandings and fatigue made us act like a pair of silly fillies. When we step through that door, let's only remember the good parts ... okay?"

Vinyl smiled softly, a little hint of her usual smirk on her lips. "I'd love to, but... you're blocking me."

"I'm... blocking you?"

What does that mean? Does that mean Vinyl thinks she can't love any pony else? If so, that's kind of sweet, but it's kind of creepy too... wait! What if Vinyl means I'm blocking her from loving others? What if she means she won't let herself move on and won't let herself love anyone... that's just wrong!

"Yes, Octy," Vinyl deadpanned. "You're standing in front of our door. I can't step in."

"Oh. Oh, right - sorry."

Neither quite felt like going to bed, but neither quite felt like talking anymore about their relationship. So the next best thing was dinner.

Vinyl made the dressing, as usual, while Octavius chopped and tossed the vegetables; a bit of couscous on the side made for a warm bed to rest the salad atop. They moved about the kitchen in near silence, settling into an old routine; doors opening and tools working and simply making something. It wasn't a epic symphony or a dubstep montage, but after fifteen minutes of simply working on something, both of them felt more like themselves. A bit of coffee (they both took their coffee sweet) rounded out their dinner, and they were soon sitting at a table, sipping quietly. It felt just like it used to be between them.

Well, almost. Vinyl kept stealing glances over at Octavius. After a while, Octavius noticed.

"Do I have something on my face?"

"Well, yeah," Vinyl smirked, as she pointedly rubbed her chin. Octavius brought a hoof up to his own chin, to feel his goatee there - then blinked.

"Huh. I never asked for that..."

"Yeah. I'm guessing you went to Pasuaji," Vinyl smirked. "He tends to... loosely interpret anything he's asked to do." Vinyl rolled her eyes.

Octavius nodded. "He seems to have done an okay job."

"Nah, I'd call it half-hearted at best," Vinyl smirked. "I mean, he could have made you so much stronger, taller, given you such a dramatic cast to your eyes... it would have been epic."

Octavius smirked, sipping his coffee. "No. That would have been against my wishes," he smirked, resting his cup in his hooves. "I wanted plain and boring - something to blend in, not stand out."

"Huh. Strange," Vinyl said. "But it looks good on you, Octavia."

He noticed the rare use of his full name with a smile. However, he had to correct her - "Octavius."

"Octavius, mmm? Octavius, Octavius... derivative, yeah, but it's classy. I like it. It suits you, really."

"You think so?" The stallion gave a little grin. "I'm glad."

"So. Octavius. Sedate, formal really. Not just a filly in drag, then?" VInyl sipped. "Taking your guy mode seriously?"

"Well, of course," Octavius nodded. "If I'm going to do this... I'm going to do it right. Just prancing about would be a slap in the face of Harpo and Frederic and... all my colt friends."

Vinyl nodded. "I see. I respect that, really," she nodded. "I still say you should have sprung for more," the DJ continued, chewing thoughtfully. "For the kind of coin you dropped on him, I'd have figured that you've ask for the best you could get."

Octavius cocked an eyebrow. "It wasn't that expensive. Besides - I did it just to get into a club, not to show off on stage-"

"The stage!" Vinyl Scratch yelped, then groaned, sinking back into her chair. "I am doomed. Doomed! Doomed forever..."

"Why? What's wrong?"

Vinyl heaved in defeat. "I have to finish that piece for Hoity Toity. And set it up. And I gotta hope this court date isn't scheduled the day of the show." Her voice trailed off, as she stared into space, whimpering.

Octavius gave Vinyl five seconds to get over the height of her freakout, before interrupting. "You know, Vinyl," the cellist said, as he had another bite of salad. "You could always just plead guilty. You'd have to make an appearance, pay a fine, and throw yourself on the mercy of the judge, but you'd have a good chance of getting off without any time."

"Plead? Seriously? I dunno, Tavs," Vinyl said, humming. "I don't want to risk it."

"Vinyl," Octavius said, clearing his throat. "How long have you lived in Canterlot?"

"Since I moved in? Maybe..." Vinyl paused, and thought about it as he floated the dirty dishes to the sink. "four years or so. Why?"

"Take it from a native," Octavius smiled. "Canterlot loves someone humble. If you own up to your mistakes - you can just about get away with murder. Just be humble and feign sincerity and you won't even need a lawyer."

Vinyl pondered. "You know, that's not so bad an idea. And..." She laughed. "Oh, this is too good. I would officially have a criminal record for rocking too hard. That can only do good things for my career." Vinyl rose to her hooves, her trademark cocky grin back on her face. "Yeah, I'll do that!"

"Good. Well, not good for having a record, but you know what I mean."

Vinyl grinned, and circled the table. "You know when I told you you like to solve everything, Octy?"

"Mmmhmm?"

Vinyl grabbed Octavius' muzzle in her hooves and pulled her tight, kissing her passionately on the lips - ignoring the corkscrewing Octavius' tail was going through. "Never change," Vinyl grinned.

"I... buh... oh wow." Octavius blushed deeply. "I... uhm."

Vinyl giggled. "You should see yourself, Octy. It's too cute."

Octavius frowned softly, although his blush remained.

"Come on. You can't possibly be mad about that," Vinyl said, an edge of irritation in her voice.

"No. It's not anger," he sighed. "What I am feeling right now is pretty much the exact opposite of anger..."

"Oh. Oh." Vinyl took a half-step back, and took a look - Octavius immediately turned and shielded himself with a forehoof, but that didn't quite hide the sight of his stallion's pride from view.

"Alright. Wow." Vinyl took a look down, and back up, giving a sheepish grin. "He certainly built you like an earth pony, I see..."

Octavius quirked an eyebrow, in interested confusion, and Vinyl sighed. "Grown ponies. I can be frank, right?"

He nodded.

"Octy, you're hung."

"Oh." That blush hid a faint smile. "I... I am?"

"Yeah. Like most earth ponies. But I guess that was to be expected," Vinyl said, a smirk on her lips.

"Expected? Because I'm an earth pony?"

"Because you're a cellist," Vinyl giggled. "I mean, it only makes sense when you've spent your entire life swinging a gigantic instrument between your legs anyways..."

Octavius frowned. "Vinyl?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Your 'grown ponies' privileges are hereby revoked from now until the end of time."

Vinyl fell over laughing, ignoring the flat look she was receiving from Octavius.

"But... okay, seriously... yeah, you look healthy. Better than I did - you don't have any obvious magical artifacts. You look like a normal earth stallion."

"Ah. I'm glad," Octavius said, his irritation evaporating. "I haven't really had a chance to look..."

"Haven't had a chance? So - you get a brand new body - and you don't give it a once-over to make certain it looks right?"

"I looked in a mirror!" Octavius whined. "It looked fine to me!"

"Seriously, Tavi. Have you even... you know?"

Octavius looked up. "Have I... what?"

Vinyl raised her hoof up, and made several slow bouncing motions with it. "You know... tested your equipment."

"Ah- no. No, not at all," Octavius admitted, with a blush. "In fact, I wanted to talk to you about it."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Octavius took a deep breath, and sighed deeply, centering himself before he continued. "You mentioned that you've taken care of yourself." Octavius averted his eyes. "Well.. I was hoping you could teach me. I literally know nothing about..." He raised his hoof, to indicate his erection... "Working with this."

Vinyl blinked. "Octy... did you want me to teach you how to hoof yourself?"

Octavius swallowed, and nodded. "I started out in control, having no issues. But ever since your friend teased me in the club, and especially after both of you teased me in the station... well. I can't do anything with it."

"I... wow." Vinyl found herself speechless - especially as Octavius looked up, his lower lip quivering and his eyes seeking. "I don't know what to say..."

"Please, Vinyl. I'm... really nervous. I... I would like you to show me."

"I - I'm flattered. Really, Octy," Vinyl said, letting herself sigh. "But... not tonight. Not for this. This one has to be all yours."

Octavius nodded. "I... understand." He wilted a little, but sat up again. "I'm sure I can figure something out..."

"Thanks, Tavi. I'm sorry, but... things are still a little weird right now, okay?" A hint of her trademark smirk returned. "Besides. When it comes to hooves, a colt's first time should be something special. I couldn't take that away from you."

Octavius gasped - and watched as Vinyl Scratch headed back up the stairs. Her tail slashed in the air behind her, and those hips had to have been given an exaggerated swagger as she climbed up the stairs. At the top, Vinyl called back down:

"Have fun, Octy... and thanks, babe. For everything."

It took ten seconds before Octavius, still sitting in the kitchen, could say anything else. She made sure that she heard Vinyl's door latched and sealed before he shouted:

"Oh, come on!"

Author's Note

This chapter's title is from Strauss' Ariadne auf Naxos. Thanks to Artimae, Loeden, and Yatsuro for their assistance in proofreading.

So Octavia's official last name is now Melody? Well, she's staying a Philharmonica for now in this story.

I can no longer quote these songs, but these songs played a role in this chapter: "Music Of My Destiny" (eXtaticus) - BBBFF - "Don't Fall Down The Dubstairs" (General Mumble) - "Hooves Up High (Meditation Mode Remix)" (Silva Hound, Rina-Chan, Aoshi) - "Elements of Harmonics" (Chain Algorithm) - "Discorded Step" (Vinyl Scratch) - "Kill or Be Killed" (PON3) - "Rainbow Dash Picked Me!" (d.notive) - "Fill Your Glass" (Hiroashii) - "Dancing Madly (Second Form)" (wanderingeloquent) - "Vinyl Scratch Battle Theme" (Mandopony)

Four chapters to go. How did I get myself into this? Anyhow, fair warning - the next chapter's going to be mostly outright clop, so avert thy eyes if that's not your thing.