Work Hard, Play Harder

by Chancellor Puddinhead

Rating: teen
Tags: Alternate Universe, Romance, Comedy, Random, Human, Slice of Life
Length: 2168

Twilight Sparkle is a stiff, serious college student transferring to Ponyville University. Little does he know that he'll meet all sorts of interesting people, including a party animal, a workaholic, and a debateably gay fashionista. (SLASH)

Twilight Sparkle (a rather masculine college student cursed with a very feminine name) is transferring to Ponyville University. He prepared himself for studying, studying, and more studying. What he didn't expect would be getting entangled with a rambunctious party animal who won't shut up, a terrified pet store clerk who can't say no to anyone, a fashionista of debatable sexuality, a wild athlete who dreams big, and a dependable farm boy stuck in the past. It's not going to be easy, but one day, he may call all of these people…friends.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-03-14 21:17:53 UTC

Introduction

Introduction

Ponyville University. Doesn’t that just scream upper class and higher education?

I really shouldn’t be griping. PU (a fitting acronym) was the only college on the west coast that would take full transfer credits from Canterlot Community College, and it’s a lucky thing they transferred at all. Supposedly, Ponyville was a college town, full of nothing but bars, malls, and PU itself. But still, I expected a little better than all this farmland. Seriously! That’s all I saw driving in – three hours of farmland. Flat, straight rows of everything from sod to corn to tobacco. At least the last fifteen minutes had been pretty; there was a big, sprawling orchard full of budding apple trees, and it looked like something out of a picture book. A bumpy dirt road brought me to the middle of town, which was paved at least, and there was a nice little downtown area full of people. I checked the map I had sprawled out over my lap and saw the little note I had paper-clipped to the upper corner: 12 Main Street – Ponyville Library 4 RENT. Possibility.

There would be something ironic about me renting in a library. I loved books, and read voraciously ever since I had been a little boy. I parallel parked with some difficulty, squeezing my battered blue hand-me-down car into a meter space, then got out. In the backseat, my kid sister – well, not really sister, but we’ll get into that later – was curled up amid the boxes and bags. Spike whined for half the trip, claiming that she would be maladjusted if we moved now, but I popped Taylor Swift into the disk player and she quieted down for a while. Spike was a nickname, but it fitted; she could be thorny when she was cranky.

The library in front of me had soaped over windows, and a little hand-stenciled cardboard sign in the window that proclaimed the same advertisement I had cut from the newspaper. I knocked politely, and when nobody answered I pushed open the door. Inside was dark, cool, and full of the musty scent of books; I took a deep, shivery breath and felt instantly at home. There were piles of old books still on the shelves and stacked on the floor, some of them yellowed with age and others with un-cracked spines. I followed the rambling aisles down to the back of the shop, noting the impressive depth of the small shop, until I reached the center. There was a ladder which I surmised led into the loft.

“Hello?” I called out, my hands in my pockets. “Anybody here?”

After poking around for nearly ten minutes, I decided that nobody was there. The place was perfect, actually – full of space, books, and with a cozy little loft area that would be perfect for sleeping. In the back of the loft was a kitchenette and small bathroom, which suited me fine. I didn’t plan on having any company. Before I left, I checked out some of the titles and was delighted to see that the library didn’t store foolish modern bestsellers, and instead devoted shelving space to classics and plenty of biographies. That’s what I wanted.

I heard the bell jingle and looked up, feeling a little guilty for rummaging around somebody’s property without asking. Thankfully for me, it was just Spike, freshly awoken from her nap. “Hey,” She grumbled, knuckling her eyes. Her shockingly green hair fell behind her in twin tails, and her black overalls were rumpled from her slumber. Spike had dyed her hair green a few years ago, and claimed she would never let it fade back to the old brunette color. I didn’t like fighting with her – she had been through a lot. We both had. “Are you really gonna buy this musty old place?” She asked, wrinkling her nose.

“As long as the owner turns up,” I replied. “Then it’s all ours.”

“Did you look around the town yet?” She asked, popping her knuckles. I swear, sometimes I think she’s a sixteen year old stuck in an eight-year-old’s body.

“No. I saw a grocery store on the way in though, so that’s pretty much all we need. And knowing where the college is, of course.” I headed back out into the glaring sunlight and squinted, disliking the blast of dry heat which hit me hard. Spike trailed after me.

“Aren’t you gonna explore? I thought that was the whole reason for transferring. Didn’t Mr. Celeste say that you needed to make friends and ‘adjust’ before you graduated?” Spike asked, sounding a little put out. “I coulda just stayed in Canterlot if you’re not going to do anything but study.”

“Mr. Celeste has a point, but nothing comes before studying,” I replied tartly. “And I’m glad you came to Ponyville with me. Otherwise I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to.” I ruffled her green hair and she swatted me irritably, still groggy from her nap.

We strolled down the street, not really aimlessly since I knew the college was in this general direction, and took in the sights. I had to admit, Ponyville was cute in that small-town sort of way. Tall green metal lampposts with hanging baskets of flowers, clean sidewalks, little boardwalk cafes, the whole nine yards. It was surrounded on all sides by deep green rolling hills, the mountains stretching off into the distance and the immediate area cleared flat for the orchard uses. It probably smelled great in the fall, when all the apples were being harvested and there was nothing else to be smelled for miles around. There was a big park in the center of town, complete with freshly-painted gazebo and trimmed hedges. Everything seemed greener and fresher here than back at home in Canterlot, which was pretty much the epitome of ‘the big city’. Still, I missed the noise. Without the traffic in my ears, the place felt eerily quiet.

Spike perked up. “I see a cat!” Her youthfulness showed through for a moment, and I followed her gaze to a patch of sunlight.

Amazingly, there was a fluffy white cat lounging in the sunshine, a purple leash buckled around his chest. He was a beautiful animal, the kind you see on magazine covers, with long white fur and a squashed looking face. He gave us a bored, lazy look and flicked his tail. “Hey there, kitty cat,” I said, crouching down. The cat hissed at me, baring sharp white teeth. “All right there, big guy, I won’t hurt you. Who do you belong to, huh?”

There was a jeweled collar fastened around his neck, with a square gold tag hanging down. I reached over to flip the tag so I could read it, and the cat swatted at me angrily. “Ouch!” I recoiled, but saw the nametag. “Opal. I bet you’re a girl, not a boy, huh?”

I had read something about the safe handling of cats, and I applied my knowledge by seizing the animal by the scruff of the neck. Opal screeched, a hideous noise, but thankfully no little old ladies charged over and demanded that I put down their precious cat. On the contrary – I didn’t see anyone at all who the feline might belong to, and after doing a quick check of the nearby benches, I headed for the nearest place to put the writhing cat down. Less than a hundred yards away, there was a pet shop with an OPEN sign in the window, and I decided to take my chances on that. Opal yowled and arched her back, digging her untrimmed nails into my forearm.

“Ouch! Damn it!” I kicked open the pet shop door, and dumped the cat unceremoniously down on the counter. “Hello?” I shouted. Was this entire place deserted, or something? “Anybody there?” Opal yowled menacingly, hissing once more.

There was a muffled bang, and a young man poked his head up guiltily behind the counter. “I’m so sorry,” He murmured in a soft voice. “I was busy cleaning out the cages.” I realized dimly that the glass counters also stored small animals, and that the store clerk had apparently been changing the sawdust in the guinea pig’s cage.

The clerk looked very young – maybe sixteen or seventeen. He had long, strawberry blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail, but a sheaf of it fell into his eyes anyway. A long yellow knitted sweater seemed a little too big on his slender frame, and if he hadn’t had the sleeves bunched up around his elbows I bet it would have fallen past his fingertips. A green apron was tied around his waist, and his delicate hands pried Opal away from my arm. I winched, thankful that the claws hadn’t ripped any flesh from my arm. Shyly, the clerk looked up and scooped the cat off the counter. “Opal, sweetheart,” The clerk whispered into the thick fur. To my surprise, the demonic white cat settled down instantly, starting up a rumbling purr. “You shouldn’t be so mean. Poor thing, were you all alone in the park? Something could have happened to you.”

“So he’s your cat?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, no,” The clerk blushed, and I realized that there was a streak of pink in his hair. Huh. “This is Opal, she belongs to a friend of mine. I’m sorry to have caused any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” I said, checking my forearms for scratches. “Just wondering what kind of person would leave their cat in the middle of a park, that’s all.”

“Well, um...” The clerk bit his lip and glanced at the door. “Rarity is probably looking for her right now. They’re very close.”

“Rarity?” I exclaimed. “Jeeze, I thought I had it bad.” At the clerk’s bewildered expression, I added, “The name’s Twilight. Twilight Sparkle. Yeah, I know, it’s the girliest name known to mankind.” I rolled my eyes. “Call me Twi.”

“I think it’s a lovely name,” The clerk insisted. He opened his mouth to say more, when the bell over the door jingled violently as the door flung open.

“Fluttershy! Opal’s gone and I have no idea where she is, and she could be anywhere –!" The man who burst into the shop stopped, chest heaving, when he saw me. “Oh. Ah, hey.” His dark blue eyes lit upon the fluffy cat purring contentedly in the clerk’s arms, and resumed gushing. “Oh my God you have no idea how grateful I am! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, you naughty little cat!” Opal hissed and swiped at his owner, who shrank back. “Um, yes. Why don’t you stay with Flutter, that’s a good girl.” His voice was disconcertingly deep and vaguely British – I wondered if it was natural, or affected.

He turned to me, raising his eyebrows, and I had to take in his appearance. He was tall, taller than me, with dark purple hair fluffed into a pompadour. Red framed glasses were perched on the edge of his nose, and the top two buttons of his dress shirt was unbuttoned, exposing a few inches of pale chest. It was untucked and rather loose around him, contrasting to the tight black leather pants that clung to his long legs. He stuck out a hand. “Rarity. You must be new here. I see you’ve met Fluttershy, and of course my dear cat Opal.” He eyed me critically. “Darling, where did you get that vest?”

I folded my arms self consciously. “Er, not sure. I’ve had it for a while.”

“Well, that’s obvious. No offense, but really, you could use something other than vests and turtlenecks. Your complexion is great, are you Hispanic, or do you just tan naturally?” He asked, that deep voice far too friendly for my liking. I rubbed at my dark skinned arms.

“Uh, a mixture of both...My mother’s Hispanic...” I trailed off. “I’m glad you’ve got your cat back, but I’ve really got to be going.”

“Of course! If you’re looking for a place to rent, a friend of mine is renting out the library. He used to own it, but you know how it goes.” Rarity grinned at me.

I perked up. “I was just looking at that, actually. Who owns it? I tried looking for them, but it was empty.”

“What time is it? Ah, see, it’s almost two o’clock. Dash should be home from the track by now, but he stays late sometimes after practice. His father owned the library, and he’s renting it out. Do you want me to introduce you two?”

At that moment in time, I wasn’t interested in making friends. I wasn’t interested in befriending the extremely shy Fluttershy or the outrageously effeminate Rarity. But I did think it was a stroke of luck that somebody knew about the library renting, and after all, how silly could the people of Ponyville be?

Very silly, as it turned out. Very, very silly.