//------------------------------// // Recovery and Success // Story: Simple Melodies are for Fillies // by bahatumay //------------------------------// Sitting in her wheelie chair in front of her workstation, Vinyl slid over and adjusted one of her levels. “I told you, Lyra, I'm fine.” “That’s not true, Vinyl,” Lyra accused gently. That particular knob hadn't needed adjusting; it was connected to the second set of headphones. “You've thrown yourself into your work, but it's not working. Even I can tell that. You're not… frosty enough.” “Frosty,” Vinyl repeated. “Yeah,” Lyra said, struggling to find another way to convey her feelings. “It's… it's ok. I mean, it's musically sound, and it’s definitely going to be a hit; but it's not you. You're not… frosty enough. Whatever editing you're doing now, you're probably going to undo later.” “I didn't ask for your opinion,” Vinyl grumbled. “You didn't need to. It's what friends do.” “Do friends also leave their friends alone so as to let those friends work?” Vinyl asked pointedly. Lyra exhaled, knowing that she would have had better luck arguing with a brick wall than getting through to Vinyl when she was like this. Thankfully, she was spared having to think up a proper response when there came a knock on the door. Vinyl didn't move, so Lyra left to answer it. She opened the door and paused, looking suspiciously at the woman on the other side. “Good morning,” Octavia said with just a hint of hesitation. “Is Vinyl here?” “Let me see,” Lyra said, turning back inside. She made no indication that Octavia should enter, and Octavia didn't try. Octavia shuffled nervously as she could hear the whispered, heated conversation. Vinyl was protesting angrily and seemed to be very upset, and she cringed. This was not the way to maintain a relationship, and it was all her fault. Finally, Lyra had had enough; Vinyl came flying out of the bedroom with her pants wrapped in a light green aura, and as she crashed into the floor Lyra slammed the door shut behind her. Vinyl stood up and pounded on the door a couple times, but Lyra held it shut. In fact, from the scraping coming from behind the door, it seemed as though she were dragging a bed or some other heavy piece of furniture in front of it. Vinyl finally gave up, muttered a few words under her breath at the closed door, and then turned to face Octavia as if just now noticing her presence. “Oh. It's you.” Octavia swallowed. She felt legitimately hurt at Vinyl's flat, emotionless response, but she really couldn't blame the unicorn for that reaction. Still, she soldiered on. “I assume you're wondering about what happened at the restaurant, when I… left.” “It had crossed my mind once or twice, yeah,” Vinyl deadpanned. “Happy birthday, by the way; not sure if I got to say that before you ditched me.” Octavia didn’t rise to the bait. “I had an… incident. One I was not quite prepared for.” “What was it? Oh. Oh.” Vinyl's eyes drifted to Octavia's crotch, and her eyes widened as her voice dropped to a whisper. “Was it… that time of the month?” Could it be? Was it all just a misunderstanding? “It is something I'd rather not talk about,” Octavia said tactfully. Vinyl flinched slightly as Octavia gently picked up her hand and gave it a small squeeze. “I did appreciate your kind offer, though, and would happily accept a rescheduled date.” “With me?” Vinyl asked stupidly. Octavia cracked a smile and nodded. “And this one I'll pay for,” she said. “You're a wonderful mare, Vinyl. I'm not about to let you go that easily.” A slow smile spread across Vinyl's face. “Yeah, I'd love to!” “How about tonight, then?” Octavia offered. “Perfect!” Vinyl said, feeling her heart start pounding in her chest. “What time?” “Earlier is better,” Octavia said. “I have rehearsal tonight.” “Great!” Vinyl said. DJ Pon-3 had a gig tonight, too, and maybe it was best that she and Octavia didn't meet just yet. “So, like, three thirty?” “That works fine. Meet me at the corner of Fifth and State?” Vinyl couldn't think of where that was right off hand, but she nodded. “Not a problem. See you then.” “Until then, Vinyl,” Octavia said with a smile and a little wave. Vinyl gleefully watched her leave and as soon as she shut the door, she fist-pumped and began to do a celebratory dance. Lyra poked her head out. “Sounds like a good thing happened,” she said with a knowing smile. Vinyl laughed. “Oh, yeah! I got a date tonight!” As happy as Lyra was that Vinyl had begun looking human again, she did have a concern. “You have a gig tonight, too, though,” Lyra pointed out. “You don't want to cut it too close.” “It's cool,” Vinyl shrugged. “I'll just head over there and leave my records there now and use them later. They’ve got lockers and such for the workers.” “Well, if you've got a plan, definitely go for it.” Lyra waggled her eyebrows. “And see if you can get a kiss tonight.” Vinyl smiled wryly. “I'm not sure that's gonna happen. I'd love a kiss, but that might be a bit too fast. Octavia is a very refined mare, you know.” Lyra made a show of drinking tea with her pinky outstretched. “Indeed, don't you know,” she said in what was probably the worst Canterlot accent Vinyl had ever heard. “We Canterlo-tians must be so refined and stuffy and such, with sticks wedged so deep inside our posteriors-” Vinyl threw her pencil at Lyra, who laughed and deflected it with a simple telekinetic wave. It was good to have Vinyl back. * * * Vinyl gritted her teeth in concentration. She had to catch up to Octavia. She just had to! She swung lightly and tapped the red golf ball. Gently it rolled and curved around… and then rolled right off the bridge and dropped straight into the water. Octavia giggled as Vinyl once again threw her head back and growled her displeasure to the skies. “Ugh!” she groused, making as though she were going to break her club over one of the metal guardrails. “Why are you so good at this?” Octavia shrugged demurely. “I just think it's funny,” Vinyl said as she reached out her hand and magically retrieved her ball by flicking it back up to her hand and catching it. She had done that far too often for her liking tonight, and had gotten quite good at it by now. “You're so refined, but we're doing this like we’re poor college students or something.” Octavia cracked a smile. “I'm a regular mare, Vinyl,” she repeated. “I like regular things and I do all the things normal girls do. I like getting my nails painted. I like to be brought flowers. I like eating doughnuts and I worry about my weight.” “You shouldn't. You're sexy.” Vinyl froze and then blushed as red as her golf ball as she realized that she'd mixed it up and said her inside words outside again. She almost didn't dare to even look at Octavia's reaction. Octavia laughed and gave Vinyl a side-hug, her hand feeling comfortable against Vinyl's waist. “You're so sweet, Vinyl.” Her eyes narrowed playfully. “But I'm a femme fatale, Vinyl. I’m unpredictable. Playing with me is like playing with fire.” “Maybe I like fire,” Vinyl returned, poking Octavia in the ribs. Octavia laughed and stepped up to the tee on the next hole. “Beware, or you'll get burned,” she said as she almost lazily tapped the ball. It sailed down the green, right under the windmill, around the barrier, and fell straight into the hole. She turned to Vinyl and grinned. “That makes four holes-in-one, correct?” Vinyl straightened her shoulders and set her own ball down. “Yeah, but I'll catch up. Just you wait and see.” She adjusted her feet, adjusted her grip, straightened her arms, shook her backside (all the professionals did this without fail), and swung. The ball began to fly forward with quite a bit of power behind it. Instead of rolling gently down the ramp, it took off, bouncing off an obstacle and sailing through the air into the area of another hole. Or, to be more specific… “My leg!” …the person playing the hole. Vinyl chuckled sheepishly and hid her club behind her back. “Heh heh… fore?” * * * Vinyl was most definitely losing, but for some odd reason, she didn't mind. Just being with Octavia made everything seem so much better. And the fact that Octavia, who did not have magic, had to physically bend over to place her ball in position on every hole certainly didn't hurt. They were on hole seventeen when Octavia froze and looked at the clock that formed part of the saloon-shaped obstacle. “That's not the real time, is it?” Vinyl checked the sun, but it was too low for her to do much but guesstimate. And her guesstimation wasn't good. She held her hand out flat, palm facing up, and cast two quick spells, one of the first combinations taught to unicorns in school. One was to find north, and the other was to create a small, vertical blue shaft right in the middle of her hand, which she combined to form a rudimentary sundial. “Looks like it,” she said sadly, dropping her hand. Octavia looked at the clock, then back at Vinyl. She kneaded the handle of the club, clearly torn between abruptly abandoning Vinyl and making her rehearsal or finishing what had started out as a lovely evening. Music won out. “I'm so sorry, but I have to go to rehearsal. I'd invite you, but it's a closed rehearsal today, new songs and all. I have to rush home and change, but thank you for coming with me tonight.” “We should do this again,” Vinyl said quickly. “How's next Friday?” “Friday's great,” Octavia said hurriedly. “Actually, make it this Sunday, day after tomorrow. Awards ceremony, I’ve got. I’ll pick you up. Dress nice. See you then.” Before Vinyl could respond, Octavia kissed her on the cheek and began running. Vinyl could only watch dumbly as Octavia sprinted away. She slowly brought a hand to her cheek and giggled. Her first kiss with Octavia! And Octavia had started it! Vinyl slowly shuffled over to a nearby rock and sat, staring blissfully into the sky as happy feelings swirled inside her tummy, not even caring when other people showed up to play the hole. Unfortunately, she, too, lost track of time. By the time she'd forced herself to stand up (and pulled herself free of her fantasies of Octavia kissing her, publicly and on the lips), the better part of an hour had passed. “Oh, horseapples!” Vinyl cursed as she realized that she would have to sprint to make her gig, too. She began to run. She briefly mourned the loss of another pair of pants as she lit her hands and began to call up the burning spell and put the fireworks spell on standby. DJ Pon-3 was going to have to make quite the entrance to make up for being late. Good thing she always carried her ears and her glasses. * * * DJ Pon-3 grinned as the club owner counted out her cut into her hand. Once again, she'd carried over her excitement from earlier, and she was being rewarded handsomely. But as soon as he'd finished, her ears (the real ones, not the fake ones) caught the sound of a passive-aggressive mumble. “Not sure why she's getting some of the tips. Showed up late and barely did anything all night.” DJ Pon-3 rolled her eyes. That Frosty Mug guy who had run the bar for years had been decent enough, but he'd retired, and this new bartender chick Absinthe had been a bit of a pain in her flank the whole time she'd worked here. Vinyl turned and curled her lip, preparing for a verbal catfight. “Not sure what crawled up your butt tonight, sunshine, but I'm up there working for my bits, too.” “Yeah,” Absinthe said sarcastically. “Taking your clothes off, shaking your skinny little butt up there, and pushing buttons is totally work.” “The only buttons you know how to push are mine, sister,” DJ Pon-3 growled. “You wouldn't know how to use a turntable if your life depended on it. Slip cueing? Beatmatching? I bet you don't even know the difference between a chirp scratch and a flare.” Absinthe rolled her eyes. “Stop making up stuff. Besides, most ponies come here to drink, not dance.” DJ Pon-3's eyes narrowed behind her glasses, and she would have rolled up her sleeves if she had been wearing any. “Oh, you no-good, tone-deaf, sack of-” “Girls,” the club owner warned. He was all for girlfights, of course; but only when there were paying customers around. But Pon-3 wasn't done. “You’re so sure of that, I'll bet you all my take I can put on a show so sick people abandon your bar completely.” Absinthe was not about to let that go. “Oh, you're on!” “You got it. Next Friday night, so you have a bit of an advantage,” Vinyl said with a sickeningly sweet smile. “Thursday,” Absinthe countered. “I don't need your pity.” “So be it,” DJ Pon-3 said, spitting on her hand and holding it out. Absinthe didn't flinch as she spat on her hand and returned the gesture. “See you Thursday,” DJ Pon-3 grinned. “Looking forward to it,” Absinthe growled as she wiped her hand on her pants. * * * It was nearly eleven thirty by the time Vinyl rushed home, brimming with excitement. She had been kissed by Octavia! She burst through the door, slammed it behind her, and sprinted to her room. “Lyra!” she called as she flipped on the light to their bedroom and magically grabbed for her covers. But something was wrong with the recently-awoken (and moderately irked) mare in Lyra's bed. She rubbed her eyes blearily, and Vinyl's eyes took in her larger frame, her much larger cup size with accompanying nipples much puffier than Lyra’s, her two-toned hair that was blue and pink as opposed to light green and white, her slightly darker skin, and her rounder face which was devoid of magic trails on her forehead. Her shoulder bore not the mark of a lyre, but three wrapped candies. She glared at her with light blue eyes, in contrast with Lyra's golden eyes. All these things came together, and Vinyl quickly came to a rather startling conclusion. “You are not Lyra,” Vinyl observed, pointing a finger at her. “No, I'm not,” the stranger groaned irritably, rubbing at her eyes. “Who are you?” “I'm Vinyl Scratch. Local DJ, I play for parties, get togethers, cuteceñeras?” “Never heard of you. What are you doing here?” Vinyl frowned, just the tiniest bit offended. “I live here. What are you doing here?” The mare looked down at the large, person-shaped bulge with green flyaway hair under the covers and then looked back up at her incredulously. “Do you really need to ask that?” “Well, I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never seen you before, so that’s why I ask, because… you’re in my house, and…” The stranger's jaw dropped and her face contorted slightly as she tried to comprehend how someone could be so stupid; but before she could deliver her scathing reply, Vinyl’s eyes widened in recognition and she snapped her fingers. “I've got it!” Vinyl proclaimed. “You're Bon Bon!” The mare in bed shifted and her eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?” she demanded. “Oh, Lyra talks about you all the time. It's nice to finally meet you. You make the best chocolates and you always smell like sugar, and when you kiss her you taste like sugar, too; and…” Vinyl's eyes widened further as another implication hit her. “Lyra got laid!” Bon Bon glanced down From her position on Bon Bon's stomach, Lyra mumbled an affirmation along with something that sounded like 'felt so good' before trying to press her head even closer against her lover. Bon Bon looked flatly at her. “Yes; but I'm not sure what that has to do with you,” she said. “Oh, Lyra and I have been friends forever. We share everything.” She paused. “Except marefriends. We're not really into that kind of thing. We're both fillyfoolers, though.” Bon Bon raised an eyebrow. “But not with each other. Well, we've tried; but it didn't work out so well and we peacefully and mutually called it off because we both felt we weren’t right for each other and I'm rambling again, aren’t I?” Bon Bon cracked a wry half-smile and nodded. “You’ve been rambling the whole time, really. It’s like listening to a train wreck. It’s pretty bad.” Vinyl frowned, mildly offended but unable to refute this claim. At this point, Lyra, who had still been resting against Bon Bon's stomach, stirred, waking up fully this time, and she lifted her head up. She was also naked, but apparently unmindful of this fact. “Bonsie? Why's my light on?” Her eyes narrowed predatorily, and she pulled herself up closer to Bon Bon’s face. “Did you want to go for round seven after all?” she asked, her voice a husky whisper. Bon Bon snorted and grunted slightly as she shifted painfully. Apparently, whatever they'd done for rounds one through six had left her exhausted. “Your roommate's home,” she said. Lyra blinked, and then looked over. “Vinyl!” she said brightly, straightening up. “How was your date?” Now, Vinyl is a rather visual learner, easily influenced by what she saw. As she currently saw two naked females' torsos with accompanying assets, it was therefore entirely understandable that what came out of Vinyl's mouth was, “It was the breast date of my life!” Lyra looked down and blushed as she quickly pulled her arms in front of her chest. “Right,” she said with a nervous smile. Bon Bon, in contrast, defiantly kept her arms where they were by her sides. Vinyl hesitated ever so briefly. She wished she could have that confidence, exposing herself to someone she’d just met, not caring what they thought. She shook her head to clear it. “So…” Vinyl said. “I got a kiss, and you got laid. Protocol four?” Lyra clapped once and began getting out of bed. “First, clothes; then protocol four. We deserve it!” Bon Bon frowned. “What's a protocol four?” * * * “So this is a protocol four,” Bon Bon murmured as she stared at her heaping bowl of ice cream. “Yep!” Lyra said happily, sucking her own spoon clean. “Ice cream solves everything.” “How much ice cream do you girls go through, anyway?” Bon Bon asked, reluctantly digging her spoon in and looking at the ice cream suspiciously. She’d always preferred her sugar in chocolate, not frozen with milk fats. Vinyl shrugged. “Tons. And we get the good kind, so it's a huge part of our budget. But it's totally worth it.” Bon Bon took a bite and a smile spread across her face. “I could get used to this,” she said, scooping up another. The three girls talked and ate long into the night, only ending when the ice cream carton was empty. Vinyl went to throw the empty carton away, and paused as she peered inside the trash can. “Who ate all the whipped cream?” she asked, frowning. “No comment,” Bon Bon growled.