• Published 26th Jul 2015
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The Things Tavi Says - shortskirtsandexplosions



Let me tell you a few things about my roommate, Octavia. After all, she saved my life.

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Bobbing Things

Author's Note:

Bobbing.

Bobbing.

Bobbing.

My blood is my beat is my heart is my heat.

I'm sweating. I'm always sweating. But if they see me sweating, then I'm doing it wrong. What they need is lights, and colors, and craziness for their craving. To live is to be distracted by the dizziness before the soft grave suckles us all into the Eversigh.

With a slap of the hoof, I cram one beat into another, bridging the epic gap between two spinning records. The mares probably think that we're in for a lull. They're damned wrong. I pound a round beat through a square hole and make it fit with savage record scratches, slicing the edges off so that they flitter away in off-melodic sprinkles of orange, red, and redder.

Somewhere, a glossy golden voice echoes. Maybe it's Pinkie Pie shouting her ears off. Maybe it's a continent full of hummingbirds having an orgasm overseas. I throw it all away and yank it back, popping the cork when the reverb reaches its peak, and then all is delicious bastard bedlam.

I spin one record and flip a new one into place. A clap of the hooves, and I twirl through the red cloud, hoofgliding down in time to catch the beat and synch them together, just for show. It's all for the damn show.

And I can't stop grinning.

Scratch and match. Scratch and match—segue into psychosis. Yes. Increase the bass. Yes. Shake the crystals loose. This castle came from nothing and it'll return to nothing with only this sonic sound to yodel the eulogy into scream dust. Awwww yes...

The sample gauntlet is coming up. Octavia might know it... or thinks she knows it. Odds are Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash think they know it as well. Nopony truly knows anything until they feel it, until the full length of the dagger's spectrum has bored the keyhole through their eyes and allowed decibels to set up camp and moon the enemy.

And just when the beat strips apart and allows a tonal crunch to ripple across the sea of strobes, I roll over to my sound board and hammer away at five... seven... nine alternating samples in a schizophrenic jigsaw jig. Only halfway through the cacophonous chorus does the semblance of harmony pour through, and it does so with the inky black grace of a submarine, laying sights on the Princess ears and firing all torpedoes. The explosion is immaculate, like giving birth to the ocean, and the adjoining tributaries are full of gold bands. Then—with an expert swing of the hoof—the amber gives way to melancholic blue. I scoop the mares up in a trance trowel and fling them before the flowers, and by the time they've inhaled the sweet fruits of melody, I've segued into the next track, and am now carrying us smoothly to the finale.

That's friggin' right. The finale.

I have a spare moment to breathe... to smell my own sweat. I look up, goggles glinting. Sure enough, I see Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash with muzzles dropped. But—to my infinite pleasure—Rarity and Fluttershy haven't fainted, but seem rather pleasantly tuned in to my frequency. Applejack and the Princess are a great deal harder to read, but they haven't galloped for the doors—so that's a good thing.

And there Tavi sits—along the fringes of the group—beside a claw-tapping dragon whelp.

And... of course... she has her hooves clamped over her ears. It wouldn't be Tavi if she didn't. Upon catching my gaze, she winces slightly—but not so hard as to relinquish her deafening gesture. She returns what I can only imagine is a dumb smile with a nervous one, and nods graciously for me to finish with my number.

And I do. Triumphantly so. Another roll through the samples and I surf on an orange wave until I crash against the Princess' crystalline shores. It ends with a dull bass vibration, and I'm already bowing.

Celestia help me. I can never seem to count the times that I've been momentarily deaf to my own applause.

I need new headphones.

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