Exit... Stage Left
Exit... Stage Left
Rumble clenched his jaw tight and let his eyes fall over her thin and gorgeous frame once more. She really was a beautiful creature. He smiled at Flitter and raised his left hoof for her to take in her own. He gave her the grin; the one that wasn’t cocky enough to make him look conceited, but still came with all the boyish charm he’d developed over the last decade of his life.
“Wanna dance?”
Flitter, sipping what was left of her latest in a long line of Gin and Tonics, smiled courteously. There was a moment of hesitation that came across her face, where she did nothing but stare at him, then past him but it passed quickly and then she was wrapping her hoof around his and letting him pull her out of her seat.
“Always.”
Rumble smiled as the well familiar warm and fuzzy feeling flowed through him.
Thunderlane, with Cloud Kicker pressing her waist against his, tapped Rumble on the shoulder, “Mind if we join you?”
He did, actually. Very much.
“Go for it,” he said to Thunderlane, though throwing a glare to his older brother that, hopefully, told him in no simpler terms that he needed to have some alone time with Flitter and that Thunderlane and Cloud Kicker, while usually welcomed company, were intruding.
Aloof, or pretending to be, Thunderlane didn’t pick up on the subtlety of Rumble’s looks and body gestures, choosing instead to lead his girlfriend, then Rumble and Flitter, away from the bar and towards the dancefloor.
Growling curses about his brother to himself, Rumble’s spirits lifted when Flitter touched his back. He turned to her. She was smiling — all lips and no teeth. Soft and gentle — then, when the four reached the centre of the dance floor he lifted her to her hind legs, got up on his own and the dance began.
He was a stallion with pride in all the right places; his body, his mane, how he dressed, how he kept up with current trends and styles, how he was charming, and handsome, and clever and witty. Among the many, many, great things he had to offer, being an amazing dancer was just another one of them.
The mares danced sexually; throwing their hips, rocking their pelvises, using their bodies like weapons against the desires of their male dance partners. To his credit, Rumble could withhold all his strongest desires to lose himself and replace it with practiced calm and patience. Dancing, politely, came first, then later he could work off all that animalistic sexual energy in bed with her.
So they danced, Flitter moving like it was second nature, him, withholding just enough to be both polite and gentle. She would touch her butt against his, or run her hooves along his chest, or through his mane, but he never took the bait. That came later.
Rumble was biding his time and waiting for that one perfect moment, when the song was right and the lights were on her and him — and Thunderlane with his pension for gossip was nowhere to be seen — to make his move on her.
Watching her rock and shake her bottom the way she was made it harder for him to do.
She stopped long enough to throw herself against his chest, pet his mane and with her face to his ear she asked him; “When did you get so good at dancing, Rumble?”
Grinning, he took his hooves, grabbed her by that wonderful ass of hers, then replied with “Since forever,” he chuckled, “Duh.”
She giggled a soft rising laugh into his ear. Her breath tickled against the fur of his cheek. He did little to fight the flush spreading across his cheeks.
Oh, yes. He was certainly taking her home tonight.
In a move that would have been rude and overt to anypony who wasn’t her, he cupped her cheeks and became startled when she pushed her hooves into his chest.
“Easy there, tiger,” she said, giggling, “Let’s keep this light and fun, okay?”
“Light and fun?” he repeated, huffing, “C’mon, Flitter. You’ve been giving me the eye all night.”
She drew back from him and gave him another sort of eye, the kind that wasn’t hiding sexual connotations but was actually confused and even surprised. “Huh?”
“You,” Rumble stated, “You’ve been giving me that look-”
“What look?”
“This one,” Rumble said, creasing out ripples in the fabric of his windbreaker. He stopped, geared his head towards her, raised a single eyebrow and licked his lips slowly. “Y’know; those ‘Fuck me' eyes...”
“Rumble…”
She stepped away from him.
To his credit, Rumble kept smiling, “Don’t pretend you haven’t been,” he said, taking a step towards her, “I know you, Flitter.”
He stepped forwards again and he hooked a hoof around her waist and pulled her towards him. Revulsion, or something close to it, took hold of her and she pushed him away and shot him an incredibly not-sexy look.
“Rumble. Stop.” she said, curtly, “I’m here with Brolly.”
“Oh, Brolly’s a gigantic asshole!” Rumble grunted, “C’mon, I’m, like, two hundred times the pony that he is. We both know it.”
“Rumble, please,” Flitter sighed, turning towards the crowd on both sides of her, “You’re drunk.”
“Yeah,” he said, “So?”
“So,” she stated, sighing, “I’m here with Brolly, who happens to be my boyfriend.”
This again?
“C’mon, Flitter,” Rumble said, smiling, “I got Shady to distract his goofy ass so we could fool around. You know you want too.”
He grinned; that same charming grin that he’d used to melt her heart hundreds of times before. Only now it didn’t work. Instead of the flutter of her eyes and a goofy grin back to him, she gave him a stunned, dumbfounded expression.
“You did what?”
“I got Shady to distract Brolly,” he said in a dull, uninterested monotone, flicking his mane backwards, “I did it so we could hang out. What’s the problem?”
She looked stunned, “You... used Shady?”
Rumble cocked his jaw sideways, “Used him? What are you talking about?”
“You used Shady,” she repeated, “You… used your best friend so that you could get with me? Rumble that’s really low.”
“No, no, no,” Rumble said, chuckling, “See, I’m killing two birds here, Flitter. Shady’s my wing-colt, right? Being a distraction is practically in the job description, and, besides, we all agreed earlier that those two really need to get along, didn't we? So, if you think about it everyone wins! We get to dance. Shady gets to… uh… He gets-” he scrunched his nose and bit his lower lip as he pondered, “W-we get to dance,” he sighed, “How is this not making sense to you?”
“Rumble, you’re… That’s a horrible thing to do to him,” Flitter stated without a single trace of sympathy in her tone, “I like Shady, and, Cloud Kicker likes Shady, and Thunderlane, I think, might also like him, but, Brolly- Rumble, Brolly really doesn’t like Shady,” she shook her head, “H-how- No. Why would you do that to him?”
He rolled his eyes, “I did it so we could dance. Duh. Like, c’mon, Flitter. You know Brolly would never let me dance with you if he knew I wanted too. So, I had to get Shady to keep his dumb-ass busy… And so what? I was doing us a favour.”
“That’s… Rumble, that is really, really terrible of you,” Flitter stated, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes, “This might be the meanest thing you’ve done to him-"
Panicked, Rumble’s eyes grew wide and he came up with an earnest defense to retain his honor; “No it’s not!” he said, “This isn’t that bad, and, also, what do you mean it’s terrible? I did this for us, Flitter!”
Flitter stepped forwards and put her hoof to his cheek, “Rumble,” she said, “There… there really isn’t an ‘us’.”
“What are you talking about? Of course there is!” Rumble grunted, “We’re… Flitter, we’re, both, like, totally into each other. We’ve had sex for fucks sakes!” he sighed and drew in heavy breaths, “Y-you want me, Flitter...”
“Oh, Rumble,” she gave him that soft and gentle smile of hers then pinched his cheek, “That-” she sighed, “I really- I didn’t think it would have to come to this, but, Rumble... this is all a huge mistake.”
Rumble peeled his lips back, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I… I was drunk… and, you were drunk, and Brolly was being an ass... “ she stopped long enough to sniff, “And you looked so cute-” she sighed, “But I’m with Brolly, now — still — and that was forever ago. And, obviously, a very big mistake.”
“But... we’ve had sex,” Rumble stated again, coldly, “Like, lots of sex. Together.”
Flitter shook her head, “No… No we really haven’t-”
“What?”
“Rumble, the last time we, um-” she tapped her hooves together and tried to smile at him, “That time when you were drunk on Shady’s birthday, and you wanted to… um… do things with me, and-” her hooves made a very annoying ‘clink’ noise each time that they touched, “I was more than happy too, because Brolly was out of town, and I wasn’t exactly sure what we were as a couple, but, um-” she bit her lip, “You couldn’t… exactly, um-“
“What?” Rumble snorted, “I couldn’t what?”
“You really don’t remember?” Flitter asked, “Maybe- Look, Rumble. We can forget all of this. You’re drunk, and I'm pretty sure that you’re on drugs too?” it was the work of a moment to quickly step back for her to glance, sideways, at Rumble, looking him hard in the eye before she nodded to herself as if she was suddenly reassured of his triumph over sobriety in all its forms, “And, this is honestly a conversation we really should be having when we’re both sober-”
“No!” Rumble grunted, “Say it now. I want you to say it, Flitter.”
“You… You couldn’t…” she sighed, licked her upper lip, her lower one and hushed her tone, “Rumble, the last time we tried to have… sex… well… you couldn’t get it up.”
Rumble said nothing. There was nothing to say. Time passed while he took in and pushed out deep breaths of air, before Flitter touched his shoulder again and he found himself looking her in the eyes.
“If- Rumble, look... If you’re…” she stopped, sighed, then when she looked back at him he could make out streams of tears forming in her eyes, “Gee. I didn't think it would be this hard to say. I honestly thought I’d be asking you this sober, but-” it came out so softly he could hardly hear it, “Rumble, if you’re… gay, I… I mean, I’d understand, and I would never judge you,” she smiled and pet him on the head, “And I think Shady would really-”
“What the fuck are you talking about!” Rumble shouted, “Gay? You think I’m a fucking faggot?”
Heads turned towards them.
“Rumble!” Flitter snapped, all traces of sympathy gone, as she bristled her wings and glared at him.
“No, no, no! Fuck this shit!” Rumble shrieked, “I am not a fucking queer, Flitter. Okay? Shady — Fuckin’ Shady — He’s the fucking fag! And… and fuck that guy! The fucking whiney bitch that he is!” he ground his teeth, “I don’t know why you’re making such a fucking fuss about this. Calling me a fucking homo-”
Flitter turned her eyes to the floor. Unable to respond to what was clearly his superior argument.
“So, what?” Rumble spat, “Now, all of the sudden, we can’t have sex because your boyfriend is here, and that makes me gay? What about when Brolly was passed out and you dragged me into the bathroom? I wasn’t ‘gay’ then, was I? What was so different about that night?”
“That… was obviously a mistake,” she admitted, eyes still watching the lights change on the dance floor and not the way that Rumble shifted his weight from his right side to his left, “I… Rumble, you’re a really sweet guy, and, I really like you, but…”
“But what?”
“But in a year, or two, if you keep going the way you are you’re just going to end up like Thunderlane, or like how you think Brolly is, and then what?” she sighed, “Let’s say… Let’s pretend I wanted to dump Brolly for you-”
“Okay.”
“Then what do I do when you decide you want to work for the weather team, like Brolly, and like Thunderlane? You’ll still live in the same house as them, and drink, and do drugs, and party just like how you do now, and how they do, and before you know it you and me will be having this exact same conversation again? What am I supposed to do then?”
Rumble curled his lips, furrowed his brows and bit his teeth together.
“Rumble, you’re… I’ve known you since you were seven! Since you were a colt!” she said, smiling up at him, “And, I love you, Rumble. I really do. Just not in that way,” she went to reach for his cheek but he turned away, “I’m sorry, Rumble, if I led you on. I really am. I swear I never meant to hurt you, but… this is something I think we both know is for the best.”
She lifted her stare from the dance floor, up to him and he could see she was faking a smile. He shrugged, grimaced and then looked away from her.
“Whatever,” he snorted, “If you don’t wanna fuck me tonight then what are you even still doing here?”
Her eyes turned soft and easy, “Please don’t be mad, Rumble...”
“I’m not,” he lied, “But if you’re not gonna have sex with me then I’ll go and find someone who will.”
“Rumble,” she reached, again, to him, but, again, Rumble brushed her off.
“Sorry for wasting so much of your life,” he groaned, “I hope you have a great fucking life with Brolly. And, hey, when you’re not too busy riding on his cock you might also want to ask him where it’s been-” he smirked wickedly at her, "Not that it's any of my business.”
When he broke away from her, and moved away from the bar, he couldn’t think of a pony he was there with who he wanted to be around; he didn’t want to see Brolly, he didn’t want to even look at Shady, Button was off getting his rocks off with Blossomforth and there wasn’t a pony left who he’d been with earlier that he cared for.
Instead he stomped towards the bar.
***
Wet, slimy and tasting like gin, tonic water, saliva and something fruity; that was Button Mash's entrance into the world of making out as Blossomforth’s tongue left his mouth. He loved every second of it. There weren’t enough words in his vocabulary to make him express just how much he did, but he certainly hadn’t expected his first ever kiss with a mare be a messy, open mouthed, tongue wrestling make out. In fact, Button Mash hadn’t expected his first kiss at all — At least not until he’d met the mare of his dreams that was —, and while Blossomforth was certainly a mare he would dream about, those were the kind of dreams where he’d wake up and have to run his sheets through the wash in the morning.
It had been short — too short — and now, as she was pulling her face away from his, she clenched her front teeth on his lower lip and pulled it back.
She had that look in her eyes; the one he’d seen too many times on the faces of the girls in Moanin’ Mares and Filly Fanny Fun; eyes half squinted, pupils small and hungry, smirk up the one side of her cheek, the other something playfully close to a smile.
He let go of the breath of air he’d been holding in for far too long.
“You’re a really good kisser,” Blossomforth said, tussling the fur on his cheek with her hoof, “I bet the girls at school are all over you, huh?”
Oh yes, that was him alright: Button; the total stud! Button Mash, who girls literally trampled over themselves all the time to get with! Button, who could definitely, totally, absolutely, walk up to a mare he thought was cute — like Sweetiebelle — and ask for a pencil, or an eraser, or whatever without getting so nervous that the sweat soaked through the fabric of the clothes he was wearing, or he would trip over his own hooves halfway there, or stumble on his words and get sent to the nurse’s office for signs of undiagnosed head trauma, or for fear of a case of undocumented autism.
Button Mash; the lady killer.
“Whatcha thinkin’ bout, Button?” Blossomforth pondered, and Button had to wonder that himself.
Nothing.
Oh wait… the plan.
Aww, heck.
“Uh, Blossom…” he stammered, tapping the floor with his tail and rubbing his leg, “So… hey, listen. I really, really, really, really, really think you’re great! And… you’re cute, and sexy-” he looked her over again; “Yeah… definitely super sexy, but, uh, I can’t really-”
The rest came out mumbled so quietly under his breath that even he couldn’t hear himself say it. Evidently, neither could Blossomforth, who leaned forwards on the tips of her hooves and batted her lash at him.
“What was that, Button?”
He brushed a hoof through his shaggy mane, pulling out loose strands that fell against the neck and shoulders of his hoodie, “I said; I don’t want to-”
Again he mumbled the rest of the sentence under his breath. This couldn’t happen. Not now. He looked at her, and then faces of the crowd. Nowhere near him were Shady, or Rumble, or Thunderlane, or Brolly, or anyone else who might overhear him and form opinions based on what he knew he had to say to her.
Taking in a quick breath of air, he smacked his lips and tried as hard as he could to smile up at Blossomforth.
“I can’t hear you, Button.” she said, sweetly.
He held onto another breath of air until his vision faded then, on release, he uttered a sentence he really wished he could have gone without saying for his entire life:
“I DON’T WANT TO HAVE SLEAZY DRUNK SEX WITH YOU TONIGHT, OKAY?”
It came out louder than he expected, and, because he'd apparently offended the higher powers in control of his fate his exasperated plea came at the exact same moment that the track playing came to a sudden stop and silence fell over the club.
Typical.
It was deathly silent now. Each and every pony in the surrounding area around them stopped entirely whatever it was that they had been doing to stare perplexed, bemused, grinning and laughing at the two of them.
As if his luck wasn't bad enough already.
Blossomforth stood motionless. She had her mouth open, stunned, and then she blinked the horrified look from her eyes. For a few minutes she stayed like that, standing still and staring at him. Blinking. Mouthing and mumbling words to herself, until, slowly she recollected herself.
“Excuse me?”
Button Mash kicked the ground at his hooves, “T-that might have came out wrong...”
“W-what the fuck did you just say, Button?”
Her stunned expression had turned nasty; her brows were furrowed, her mouth peeled back to a scowl while in her eyes — which only minutes ago had been very nice to gaze into — a fire burned. If there was any humour in the situation, she certainly didn't see it. Neither did Button.
Not a single pair of eyes throwing glares at him came with sympathy for him attached to them. In the usual, outlandish and impossibly unlikely way, Button Mash had once again made himself the centre of attention. Ponies, tall, short, fat, and thin made him the object of unwavering hate and disgust. He could have just kept his mouth shut. He should have. Really. Like so many times in his life, he could have gone the entire night without voicing his opinion and things would have been just fine. Instead, he’d listened when Shady, and Rumble, and Brolly, and Thunderlane had painted a vivid portrait of Blossomforth as a virginity stealing succubus. Staring at her now, it was clear to him that they were very, very wrong in thinking that.
“I… uh...,” he was mumbling sounds that almost made words, trying hard not to meet Blossomforth’s horrible look, “Er... um....”
“You… You fucking pig!” Blossomforth snapped at him, throwing her weight forward, “I can’t believe- No... What are you even- I thought you were supposed to be nice, and- Did you really just fucking say that, Button?”
As she leered at him, ponies around her snorted, giggled and snickered. They whispered cusses and rumours to each other. Mostly about him. To his credit, Button Mash had never really been one to take criticism to heart. Then again, watching Roseluck whisper something obscene about him to Carrot Top — both of whom knew his mother — and then seeing Colgate — who was his dental hygienist — tap Comet Tail and Daisy by the shoulders and point an a condemning hoof at him really wasn't doing much to boost his self esteem.
He hunched his shoulders until the extra inches of stitched together fabric formed folds in the hoodie. With a quick snap forwards of his neck he tossed the hood over his head, until all but his chin was covered and found a tiny bit of comfort in his makeshift hideaway.
There was no way in Tartarus that what little reputation he’d had would ever recover from this.
“N-now just hold on a second here,” he panted, choking on his words and trying to ignore the dryness in his throat, “I... I am nice, and, I’m- Now, wait... I was just being honest…”
“Honest?” Blossomforth scoffed, “Oh, I see. Just like how you were being totally honest with me when I asked you to dance and you sure as hells didn’t say a word about how you thought that meant I wanted to have sleazy drunk sex with you then? Like that? Or, did you mean like how you were being even more honest with your feelings for me when you were feeling me up like a Neighponese business pony riding the metro just now?” she snarled, “Yeah, right! You’re a very honest pony, Button Mash!”
The crowd watching them had somehow grown double the size from when he'd last dared to look at them. They were still muttering to themselves about him; pointing and laughing, smiling and whispering. Putting a very ugly spotlight on him and Blossomforth.
“B-but Shady and Rumble said-”
“They said what?” she huffed, throwing her hoof into his chest, pushing through the padding of the hoodie with just enough force to make him wince at her touch, “That it’s okay to assume we were going to fuck because I was just some stupid slut? Because any mare that your tiny dick'd, loose butthole'd, jerk-off fucking friends all call a tramp must be one, right? Because Shady Daze and Rumble know so much about what it’s like to be me?” she stepped towards him, “I… I cannot fucking believe you right now! I really thought you liked me.”
“I do,” he gasped, “It’s just-”
“It’s just that you don’t like me enough to respect me as a mare? Is that it?” she snapped, “I’m just some ‘babe’ who wants to pick you up because you’re so insatiable and I’m such a shallow, ditzy, cock junkie?”
By now all the eyes of all the ponies surrounding them had turned so vicious and cruel that Button Mash could hardly even hold his body up. His knees got weak, his body felt extra heavy and when he exhaled he fell. He huddled backwards, pulling himself ass backwards along the floor until his back came against the wall. He pulled his legs to his chest, inhaled a sharp breath, then looked up at Blossomforth. She stood towering over him. Looking a million feet taller and a hundred times more dreadful.
“Er, um…”
“You’re such an asshole!” Blossomforth said. She curled her neck and her wings flapped open, “Seriously! I… I can’t fucking believe you right now, Button! I thought you were this sweet and innocent guy and I…” she sighed and sucked in a breath of air, “And I really wanted to like you-” she exhaled and scowled again at him “I thought we were having fun?”
“Wait,” Button squealed, “I am nice. I am. And, we were totally having fun. And… I’m really not a sexist pig. And-” he whimpered and his body shook. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, or the crowd, so when he mumbled it came out softly and hit the floor, “And… I should have kept my mouth shut.”
Blossomforth snorted, “You think?”
Still curled up into a Button Mash shaped pretzel, he swallowed and tried to remember the first few steps to the workout videos his mom had, specifically, how to control his breathing; his heart was hammering away in his chest. He was ashamed of himself.
“All of you fucking stallions are the same, you know that?” Blossomforth groaned, “It’s such a fucking double standard too! Oh, sure, any fucking guy can just go out with his fucking bros and pick up some dumb, slutty, blonde bombshell and he gets hoof-slaps and cheered for it, but, when a fucking mare shows a little interest in a guy, who she thought was a sweet and adorable colt, well, she’s just some skank.”
He heard the stomping of hooves, then, a curious sound after; claws, and talons scraping against the floor. Button Mash swallowed; there was no shortage of the kinds of creatures in Equestria with claws and talons, and, from his experiences, the ones who were on the same baseline level as ponies had an innate, bred-in code of honour that dictated trouble for so claimed 'Sexist Pigs' like him.
When he peeked a glance from behind his hoodie he saw Blossomforth turning to face the biggest, meanest, toughest Gryphon he’d ever seen in his life. The same Gryphon, who, coincidently, had been the one to turn him, Rumble and Shady away from the doors a few short hours ago.
It was clear to him now. The higher powers, or, the hoof of fate — whichever it was — took great joy in seeing the lowliest types of creatures suffer.
Button Mash prepared himself for a swift and sudden end.
***
If there was one good thing about that night for him, it came from knowing that somewhere between jogging from Button’s Mom’s house to The Toad, then fleeing from The Toad to Club Black, where they trotted from the back of the club to the front, and, after zipping through openings between all the dancing ponies around him, there was a good chance he was getting his thirty minutes of cardio for the day. He was sweating — not quite like how he was sure Button was sweating — but a thin layer of wet stink had broken out across his forehead and soaked into his fur.
He was trying to balance a flat reflective drink-tray with two freshly poured beers between his teeth. Somewhere ahead Brolly was waiting for him.
For the shortest amount of time he'd thought about going up to the bar, ordering two of the gayest sounding drinks he could think of — two cosmarepolitans they would have been — and then setting them down in front of Brolly, playing entirely ignorant at the same time. That was until he realized that only one of them would see the humour in it, and that the other would probably beat him with a broomstick later in life.
Brolly certainly had that charm about him.
Brolly might have been a proper asshole of a pony, but Shady Daze was the one who’d been talked into buying the drinks, while Brolly was the one sitting comfortably, and who was probably going to go home and have sex with a girl he pretended to love.
From an outside perspective if someone had to point a hoof at who drew the short straw out of the two of them...
The desire Shady had to drop a fat glob of throaty bile in the centre of Brolly’s beer came and went just as quickly as Shady Daze decided that he could very well be the bigger pony. Emotionally speaking, of course. Brolly hadn’t maimed him yet and if anything Shady was pretty sure he was making progress in turning Brolly from a rude, crass and homophobic douchebag to, well… a rude, crass and slightly less homophobic douchebag.
Truly, he was channeling the best of Princess Sparkle’s teachings.
“I did ask for a couple of umbrellas, but they looked at me funny,” Shady said with a wry grin playing across his lips while he set the tray and the beers down on the table, “Sorry.”
Brolly gave him a dirty look, reached for his beer, closed shut his left eye then inspected it for with his right.
“The roofie’s probably already soaked in,” said Shady, still grinning and taking his seat in the booth, “Just in case you were worried.”
“Fuck off,” Brolly grunted, popping his shoulders and flexing until meaty looking veins popped in his neck, “One more fucking word and I will-”
“-Beat me to a pulp,” Shady finished for him, “I know. You’ve only said it, like, ten thousand times already.”
Brolly said nothing. He took a long drink of beer without taking his eyes off Shady. He smacked his lips as he put the beer down and big drops of saliva popped out from his mouth and hit the table.
“Tastes alright,” he said, “I’m fucking amazed that you didn’t manage to fuck this up.”
Shady grinned at him, “Yeah, well, once you’ve grabbed enough beers for Rumble, and heard him say, literally, the same exact thing enough times in your life, you learn a thing or two...”
Brolly grinned. Sincerely. A thin, almost unnoticeable little grin crawled across his lips, “Rumble’s a fucking loser,” he stated, “Not quite like how you’re a fucking loser, or like how Button’s a fucking loser, but he’s definitely a fuckin’ dickweed.”
“Huh,” Shady said, scratching his chin, “I… Uh. I was actually under the impression that you guys were friends?”
Brolly snorted, “He’s my landlord’s little brother, and that gives him a free pass from getting his try-hard, wannabe ass beat. That’s it,” he turned his glare onto Shady, “Not like you, or Button, who I would happily kick the piss out of anytime.”
Shady gave a nervous giggle, “Duly noted.”
“That fucking kid is the definition of a poser,” he said as if it were a matter of fact, “Don’t get me wrong, you are definitely a loser if I’ve ever met one. But, at least you don’t pretend to be something you’re not. So you’ve got that going for you.”
Shady scratched his neck and ran his hoof through his shaggy mane, "Uh... Thanks," he lifted a brow, "I think?"
“And, Button? He’ll always be the anti-poon,” Brolly stated, “There’s no way in the seven hells that he’ll see his first real vagina until he saves up his bits to afford it. But even he doesn’t try to pretend to be cool.”
“O-okay,”
“But then there’s fucking Rumble,” Brolly grunted, “A fuckin' pussy cunt, who’s spent his entire life with his nose so far up Thunderlane’s asshole that he’s got skid marks on his snout.”
The level of sincerity, coupled with comfortability, in Brolly’s tone bothered Shady. For as long as he’d known Brolly, he’d always been a boxed-in, shut-off and totally unsympathetic asshole. Hearing him open up like this was new, and Shady couldn’t place the feeling it spurred in him.
“Rumble’s alright,” he found himself saying with a soft smile, “I mean... Yeah he’s a bit of a goof, but he means well… Or, at least I think he does.”
“My fucking ass he’s alright,” Brolly shouted, “He’s almost as much of a fucking knob-gobbler as you are.”
Shady swallowed, “Huh?”
“Even I can tell that he doesn’t respect you,” said Brolly, “I could give less of a fuck. Honestly. It means nothing to me. But you’re dumber than you look if you think that Rumble would ever stick his neck out for you as hard and as desperately as you do all the time for him.”
Shady opened his mouth to speak, but, Brolly kept going.
“Not that it’s any of my business,” he took another long sip from his beer, “Whatever lover’s quarrel you two fags have going on is really between his cock and your asshole...”
Shady took as many sips of his beer as he could on a single breath before setting the almost empty glass down on the table and cocking up his eyebrows, “Whatever...”
Brolly glared at him, “Don’t pretend like this makes us friends by the way,” he grunted, “We’re not.”
“But?”
“There’s no ‘but’,” Brolly said, “I’m not giving you life advice here, Shady.”
Shady finished his beer.
“I don’t know how you do it, but somehow each one of you is more pathetic than the other,” said Brolly, “Straight up. You three float on your fairy wings around this town like you own it, like there’s nothing greater than you three, but, really, you’re all just a bunch of losers,” he raised his hoof and threw it at Shady, “You are going to end up catch some homo disease, and you’ll spend what’s left of your sad little life shitting yourself to death in a hospital bed. Button is going to die humping a blowup Celestia doll, and, if I don’t kill Rumble, someone else will.”
“That’s kinda… harsh,”
Brolly said nothing for a minute, and then, when he did speak again it was to ask something that made Shady panic.
“Where the fuck did Flitter get too?” He shouted, tearing his eyes off Shady and staring aimlessly around the club, “And why in the fuck am I still sitting here talking to you? Have we bonded enough yet? Cause, I swear if Flitter doesn’t give me a ‘Thanks for taking care of the extra special one’ blowjob later, it’s going to be sodomy-by-broomstick-handle the next time I see you, Shady-”
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
“Uh… uh…” Shady licked his lips and drew in deep breaths of air, “Uh… Hey, how about a cigarette?”
“Huh?”
“A smoke?” Shady begged, wiggling his brows, “Let’s go for a smoke.”
Brolly furrowed his own brows, finished his beer in three long gulps then slapped the empty glass onto the table until a spider’s web of cracks appeared in the empty pint-glass, “Fine.”
“Cool,” said Shady, “Smoking patio is just outside, uh, it might be hard to navigate through the crowd, but-”
“Fuck that,” Brolly groaned, “It’s crowded as shit out there. We’re smoking right here at the table.” he curled his nostrils up, “I’m not moving.”
“But… I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to go outside to smoke,” Shady said, uneasily, “The rules are pretty clear, and-”
“Fuck the rules!” Brolly shouted and snapped his hooves towards Shady the way he would to a dog, “Now give me a cigarette, Shady.”
“R-right. Fuck the rules...” Shady repeated, reaching his left hoof into his pocket, “You only live once, right?”
He pulled the pack of Red Apples out of his pocket, tossed it to the table and before he had a chance to do much else Brolly’s hoof was already on them, pulling the pack towards him.
“I would have thought you'd smoke menthols,” Brolly huffed.
“I know this has been super hard for you to wrap your head around, but I’m actually not that different from a guy like you,” Brolly glared at him and Shady tapped his hooves on the table, “T-that is to say, uh... except for the whole ‘Liking guys’ thing, of course.”
Brolly shook his head, sighed, and Shady found himself sinking back into his seat, waiting for him to throw another harsh criticism his way.
“Are you still talking?” Brolly grunted. He pulled a cigarette out from the pack on the table, popped it between his pursed lips and glared down at Shady, “Are you not done yet? Is there a reason why you keep speaking?”
Shady’s fetlocks tapped against the floor and a twitch came over his right eye.
“Lighter.”
Shady nodded, fished the lighter from his pocket and passed it to Brolly, who tore it from his grasp, lit his smoke, inhaled and held the smoke in his lungs for a long minute of silence — where Shady lit his own cigarette. Slowly, Brolly exhaled smoke through his nostrils then sank backwards into his seat.
“Are.. uh… You’re sure we’re allowed to do this?” Shady asked, taking a soft drag, “I don’t wanna get kicked out or anything.”
“Still?” Brolly grunted, “You’re still talking?”
Shady said nothing but took another drag and ashed his smoke in an empty pint glass on the table.
“I’m going to be honest here,” Brolly said, “If I didn’t already know who your deadbeat daddy was, and that your mom was some dumpy little barstool slut he picked up at The Alibi… Well, I’d swear that your parents were related.”
“Shut up,”
Shady found nerves pinching in his throat, around his eyes, and then his hooves slammed into the table. Empty pint glasses shook, cocktail napkins danced with the sudden swift movement.
Brolly, with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, gave him a bemused smile, “Touched a nerve, did I?”
“It’s just...” Shady sighed, reforming his composure and trying his sincerest to look emotionally neutral, “Look, I really don’t care what you think of me, but dragging my family into this? That’s taking it a bit far.”
“Poor-fucking-Shady,” Brolly cooed while wiping crocodile tears from the corners of his eyes and sniffing, mockingly, at the air, “Are you ashamed of the fact that your family's nothing but low-class, dirt hoofer trash?"
Shady grunted, “That’s not cool, Brolly.”
Brolly blew a cloud of smoke at Shady’s face, “Yeah it is.”
Waving the smoke away, Shady sank back into his seat and took another long drag from his cigarette.
“Your parents must have been hitting the pipe pretty hard when they fucked you into existence,” Brolly jeered, “How else does a colt end up with so many birth defects?”
“Shut up, Brolly,” Shady shouted, “You’re being an ass, alright?”
“Grow a pair of balls you little cock-fag,” Brolly said, taking another drag from his cigarette, “It’s really no wonder that your daddy ended up how he did. If I had to deal with raising a little bastard like you, I'd be on the liquor too.”
Shady Daze, without any more beer left in his mug, puffed on what was left of his cigarette.
"I can't tell what the saddest thing about you is, Shady; The fact that you don’t have half the sack to stand up to me right now. The fact that you’re a whiney little bitch,” Brolly — sneering — mused. His eyes grew wide with excitement and a nasty grin spread across his lips, “Or that extra faggy thing you've got for your best friend.”
“What are you talking about, Brolly?”
“Don't pretend that you don't know what I'm saying,” asserted Brolly, leaning his weight forwards so that the blood ran through the pulsing veins in his flexing muscles, “You want to smoke Rumble's pole so bad that it's almost painful to watch.”
“S-shut up.”
Brolly’s laugh came out sounding sharp and cruel, and with his heavy hooves he slapped the table again. More drinks shook, a nearly empty beer fell onto it’s side and spilled across the table.
“Holy fuck. Did you just- No... There's no fucking way-" he saw the defeated look on Shady's face and burst out with another deep-gut cackle, beating the table harder, "You totally do want to fuck him. Don't you?” the beer rolled across the table and fell, drop by drop, between Shady’s racing legs, “This is- I mean... I was just trying to fuck with you, but... Shit. This is too good," Brolly chuckled some more and shook his head at Shady, "You really are a fucking loser."
Shady put his cigarette butt in one of the half empty beer bottles on the table. It hissed as it drowned and a tiny cloud emerged from the neck and out the head. His head thumped and his eyes felt wet. He didn't want Brolly to see him. Not like this, so he shut his eyes and tilted his head down.
“Why the fuck would anyone, ever, want to like you? You dress like shit, you mope around like you were molested as a kid, and, on top of that you’re unbelievably annoying.”
There were so many places in Equestria better than being here with Brolly, and none he could imagine being worse. A cold damp prison cell under the royal palace would be nice as long as he was alone in it.
Brolly, sensing Shady’s reluctance to contribute any signs of fear or anguish, threw his body forwards. Shady jolted in his seat and then Brolly laughed.
“You’re such a fucking fag,” said Brolly, “Rumble will never find you attractive. No one will. You’re going to spend the rest of your cock-sucking life waiting for a day that isn’t ever going to come,” Brolly snorted and foam came out of his nose, “And fucking everypony who knows you will move on with their lives, and you’ll be stuck behind in the dirt just waiting around for the day that you die. That’s all you’ve got to look forward too in your life.”
Nothing was worth this. Not Button, and certainly not Rumble. He had dignity, pride, decency and self respect, and to sit here and take abuse from Brolly was far from showing of that.
He chose to do something about it.
“You really are the fucking worst, Brolly,” he shouted, “You abuse the one girl in this entire terrible town who is naive enough to think that you are the best she can do with her life! Which, by the way is total bullshit! She can, and probably will, do so much better than you one day,” he drew in a breath of air, “And you’re going to kill yourself with drugs and booze twenty years before you ever get a chance to realize how much of a fucking piece of shit you really are.”
Gasping for air, Shady lowered himself back into the seat and stared, impassively, at Brolly for a long time. For what could have well been eons neither Brolly or Shady broke eye contact or spoke more than a grunt, or a huff, or a groan, until Brolly smiled, ear to ear, and broke the silence.
“It took some fucking balls to say that,” he said, “It doesn’t make what I said any less true. But, you’ve got a serious set of dangling bits on you. If you weren’t a such an annoying fag, I’d say I almost respect that.”
Shady said nothing.
“Let’s get one thing straight though,” said Brolly, “If Flitter, — who for some fucking reason likes you —, wasn’t here tonight, I would take you outside and kick your head in until there was nothing left but skull and bits of brain matter,” he flexed, muscles rippled, but Shady remained stoic, “But, since she is here, and, she does like you, I’ll let this slide until the next time we’re alone. Then I promise I’m going to shave you down, staple every last take-out menu at my place onto your ugly naked body, and kick you around Ponyville for the entire town to see.”
Brolly looked at Shady. Shady back at Brolly. Both of them were breathing, heavy, until Brolly moved, Shady flinched, Brolly grinned and Shady sunk back into his seat.
“Now,” Brolly said, cracking his neck and then smiling at Shady as if nothing he’d said over the past twenty minutes had been in any way shape or form at all uncomfortable for Shady to hear, “How about you get me another beer, Shady?”
Swallowing, Shady tried to smile but found that he couldn’t.
***
“Is there a problem here?” asked the bouncer, “Are you alright?”
He stood impossibly tall, and looked impeccably imposing; snarling at Button Mash's tiny frame.
“No,” Blossomforth shouted, “No... I'm not alright.”
The bouncer’s glare turned to Button Mash — who was still sitting on the floor, curled up into himself and praying to a higher power that he could be anywhere else but here in that moment of time and space. But, since Equestria didn’t run on the whims and wishes of desperate, belittled geeks Button Mash had no such luck.
He was going to die a virgin.
Big surprise there.
Gold and yellow flashed against the overhanging lights as the bouncer’s claw uncurled. It took less time than he could realize what was happening but a claw flew forwards and wrapped around the floppy folds of the neck on his hoodie. Each finger of his claw curled inwards, talons scraped the fur of his throat, and then the bouncer was pulling him from the floor.
Button Mash gasped for air and his legs flailed clumsily beneath him. The floor got further and further away, and the bouncer’s beak got closer and closer to his muzzle
“I know you,” he said, “Did I not turn you and your little homo posse away at the door a few hours ago?”
“U-uh,” Button stammered, “M-m-maybe it was someone who looked like me?”
Smooth. Very smooth.
The claw around his throat grew tighter and more of Button’s baggy hoodie became wrapped around his throat.
“No, I remember you. You were with that loud mouth fucking pegasus. The one who wanted to fight me.” assured the bouncer, “It was you, him, and that other kid,” said the bouncer, “I thought I gave you the boot then?”
“W-w-well,” Button panted between breaths, “We- Um, well you see- I mean, w-which is to say, I think-”
“So you turned around and snuck in?” said the bouncer, curling his claw until Button could feel talons tear past his flesh and scrape against the pink skin of his throat, “Just so you know… you’re as good as dead now.”
Hopeful that Blossomforth would understand his position in all this, he turned to her to give her a look which, hopefully, told her that as mad as she could possibly be for him and his misinformed, unintentional sexism, this bouncer was certainly much, much, more upset about him sneaking in.
Sadly for Button Mash, Blossomforth was wearing her worst ‘This-Is-What-You-Get’ face.
Button Mash would have swallowed the dry lump in his throat, but the bouncer’s claw was doing a good job of blocking it from going down.
“He was sexually harassing me,” Blossomforth shrieked.
“B-b-Blossom’,” Button panted, staring at her, “I… I wasn’t trying to s-sexually harass anypony. I wasn’t. And-”
“You’re harassing one of our paying clients?” The bouncer asserted, pulling Button to a position so close to his chest that Button could feel the feathers tickle his fur through his hoodie, “Let’s take a little walk, kid.”
“No, no, no!” cried Button, “I… I wasn’t harassing anypony! I swear I wasn’t! I’m a nice guy!” he turned towards Blossomforth, “Tell him, Blossom! Tell him I’m a nice guy!”
Blossomforth huffed and turned her head away.
Button Mash felt tears grow hot in the corners of his eyes.
“Stop bitching and shut your fucking cock-holster,” stated the bouncer, “You’re lucky I’m only throwing you out.”
“B-b-but,” Button stammered, “I… Well… What about the other guys and-” It dawned on him how stupid of a thing that was to say just then, “Oh fudge!”
Of all the infinitely unintelligent things to blurt out, it had to be that. Didn’t it? Because, naturally, Button Mash was a colt whose life was marred and weighed down by piss-poor luck, it only made sense that he would accidentally mention his co-conspirators here.
“Those other two dicks had the balls to sneak in with you?” asked the bouncer, tossing Button onto the floor, leaning down until his beak was pressed against Button’s snout and then snorting air against his face, “Tell you what, kid; if you point ‘em out to me I promise to take it easy on you.”
Button Mash was many things painful to admit; a coward, a dork and a virgin. However, he wasn’t a snitch. He would never, ever, sell out his own friends. Certainly not for this thick necked, vein-pulsing, bouncer.
“They didn’t come in with me,” he stated with what little was left of his decency and pride as he puffed out his chest, “It’s just me, and-”
“They’re over there somewhere,” Blossomforth said, throwing her hoof towards the dance floor, and then again after that towards the V.I.P. booth section, “Those fucking sexist assholes… I hope you teach them all a lesson.”
The bouncer lifted Button Mash over the heads of the quickly growing, gawking, staring and laughing crowd of ponies gathered around him and held him there, “Let’s go find your friends, hey?”
“Oh heck,” said Button Mash.
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This is why don't drink. Because my friends who do drink act exactly like these idiots are acting.
Having said that, I hope that things work out in some degree for our three leading colts. Especially Shady, because I still cannot see this fic ending happily for him.
Hrm. I feel very bad for Button here. And defintiely Shady, This Ponyville, while interesting, is... incredibly sleazy. Well written! But sleazy. Sleazily enjoyable? XD
I really didn't like how that situation went down.
Bring on the next one let's do it.
Why do I even read this?...
Why?...
WHY!?
Okay I know why, because it is brilliantly written, and a great story from so many perspectives.
BUT I GET SO FUCKING DEPRESSED WITH EACH CHAPTER!
The beginning of the end. They a pretty much effed.
Okay so the situation is like a train, starting from the club.
Okay, chugging along - woops, a few bumps here and there, and heeeeeey! we're picking up speed and wiat a bit more bumpy and now we're CRASHING INTO THE FUCKING ABYSS.
I LOVE THIS!
Also the whole Blossom Button situation just did a complete 360 right there. Nice play.
Button should have just used jedi mind tricks. I bet you a million dollars he knows some.
5596073
Yup.
Oh, damn. That was like watching three stallions getting gelded all at once. Oh, wait - that's exactly what I just read.
Intensity INTENSIFIES!
I'm conflicted about this chapter. On one hand I understand where Blossomforth is coming from in terms of the assumptions being made about her.
On the other hand I remember last chapter in which the following happened:
And she has the gall to talk about the assumptions that stallions make? I was hoping the entire time she was reading Buttons his rights that something would happen to shut her up, and then she ended the chapter by accusing him of sexual harassment when in truth the only one of the two potentially guilty of that is her. At this point I'd like to see Blossomforth get some comeuppance just as much as Brolly, probably more.
Regarding the other two, Rumble really does need to stop being a jackass, and Shady should probably drop him as a friend until he does.
5596739 Yeeeaah. Blossom doesn't really have the footing to talk about assumptions here. Then going the 'he's harassing me!' way? Oi.
My thoughts:
Sweetie- at least you were referenced. Now get in there and fuck Button already!
Button- your fucked. From the gryphon, and Sweetie. Hopefully you get to choose 2.
Brolly- Why don't you take a look at your nice ol pal Rumble... Who was just dancing with Flitter.
Flitter- pick a side, bitch!
Blossomforth- get that stick out of your ass and say sorry for pete's sakes!
Random gryphon dude- pick up Button, find the nearest Sweetie Belle, and ship them. I'll pay you double.
This story is getting exceedingly unpleasant. I'm not sure how I feel about this.
5609093
Don't be so coy. You know you love it.
5613083
Ouch, dude... Where did that come from?
5613121 A really vindictive part of me that's been shining out more than I would ever like lately. So sorry.
Shouldn't have been a pussy and deleted it, either, because there were some legitimately good insights in there too (like the Cloudchaser deal being just really needless and you needing to focus on developing the plot that's already there instead of drying to carpet-dramabomb the whole thing).
You're my friend. I guess. I dunno, we don't talk a lot lately. But no matter the case, no matter how bad the fic has gotten or how unpleasant it's been to read, you really didn't deserve a dressing down like that. It was immensely disrespectful and inconsiderate.
5613149
Okay...
The stuff about Blossomforth and Button was definitely valid criticism, but, like, if you're not enjoying the story you also don't have to read it? I don't get paid to write this, I just do it for fun. I like writing it, people seem to like it.
I dunno. I'm sure a smarter, more eloquent man than me could poke more holes in the technical aspects of the writing, and the plot and characters, but whatever; it's just stupid horse words, dude.
Chill.
.,..And its only gonna get worse from here...
This will end in the ER...