Chapter 3: Flashbacks are Magic
The Fun Frolicking Filly Fu — Er… I mean, the Cutie Mark Crusaders had erected a perimeter around Fluttershy’s cottage. Vinyl Scratch and her marefriend Octavia had already gone inside, oblivious to the three mischievous children who had been shadowing them for the better part of an hour. While Scootaloo and Apple Bloom had initially suggested sneaking a peek from the living room window, Sweetie Belle had projected a digital overlay onto a flat patch of land which provided several helpful suggestions for covert observation.
The first of which was not to ask how Sweetie Belle did that — literally, it was the first bullet point. The second was finding cover, which the nearby shrubbery was excellent for. They were to keep their heads low, look only when the mark wasn’t, and assign each other code names. This rule was underlined for emphasis.
“Aunt Flo to Cousin Red. Cousin Red, come in, over.”
Scootaloo held a hoof up to her ear and made a squelching noise. “Cousin Red reporting. How about you, Sally? Do you read me? Over.”
“SALLY ACKNOWLEDGES YOUR MAKE-BELIEVE RADIO TRANSMISSION.”
Apple Bloom and Scootaloo both turned to their friend, eyes wide and hoofs gesturing. After a moment, Sweetie Belle made an “O” shape with her mouth and finished with: “OVER.”
“All right, gang. We’re gonna find out what Miss Octavia and Scratch are doin’. Our findin’s will definitely get us our cutie marks!”
“CUTIE MARK COVERT OP—”
All three hurriedly ducked back behind the cover of their bush and hushed each other, then finished their chant at a much lower volume: “Cutie mark covert operatives yay!”
“Yay!” Fluttershy clapped her hooves together as she served her guests a fresh pot of tea. “Oh, I never get to use my degree! I was beginning to think I took all those night courses for nothing!”
Vinyl and Octavia exchanged glances. “Um… you’ve never practiced before?”
“Oh, no. I don’t have the funds to open up a psychiatric practice. The licenses alone would bury me in debt, and I already have several thousand bits in student loans to pay off, not to mention all the costs of operating my own animal shelter, veterinary hospital, and farm.”
Vinyl took a sip of her tea, gagged, and surreptitiously poured it into a nearby potted fern.
“Um, Fluttershy,” Octavia wrung her hooves around her teacup nervously. Fluttershy was a very good friend, a beautiful pony inside and out, and always put herself before others. The last thing Octavia wanted to do was upset her, but seeing as how her sanity was at stake, she felt it important to ask a few questions. “I do not mean to be rude but… besides convenience, why should I trust your services over any pony else’s?”
“Um… well… I can think of two reasons.” Fluttershy took a seat on a cushion adjacent to her guests. “The first is that I’m the only pony in town with a psychiatric degree. Ponyville doesn’t even have a dentist, after all, unless you count that blue-maned quack who operates out of the alley behind Al Capony’s Loaded Loans.”
Vinyl and Octavia both shuttered. “Colgate” was not a mare often discussed in polite company. She was a shady character who was rumored to have dealings with the mafia. Specifically, evil dental hygiene.
“The second is that the seat your sitting in reclines.”
Octavia looked down at her cushion and, sure enough, saw a lever. She pulled it and did indeed recline — meaning it ejected a spring from the base that shot Octavia half-way across the room and onto a sofa.
“Rainbow Dash got that for me as a birthday present one year. She thought it would be funny.”
“Hilarious,” Octavia grumbled and adjusted her position on Futtershy’s couch. To her credit, it was a comfortable couch. It almost made up for the whiplash she had just suffered.
“Now, you said Twilight diagnosed you as having ‘generalized anxiety disorder’. What is your anxiety specifically, Octavia?” On his owner’s command, Angel Bunny hopped over and settled into Fluttershy’s lap, holding a notepad and an ink pen and ready to dictate.
“This is my favorite part,” Vinyl quipped, shrinking away from the subsequent glare Octavia threw at her.
Octavia took a deep breath and released it slowly. Unlike her marefriend, she didn’t enjoy having to explain her problem, as it always resulted in odd looks or laughter. She knew she was in reliable company, but that did little to steady her nerves. “I hate air quotations, Fluttershy. Whenever I see a pony use them, I envision crushing their skulls betwixt my hooves.”
Fluttershy and Angel exchanged looks. Fluttershy was thoroughly confused. Angel Bunny began laughing, though it was less about the sound (which was nonexistent) and more his rolling on the floor and pounding the floorboards with his tiny fists.
“Um… air quotations? You mean th—”
“NO!” Fluttershy was tackled to the ground by a guided Vinyl missile. The canary pegasus yelped but stopped struggling the moment Vinyl manually directed her head toward Octavia, who was visibly shaking with barely suppressed rage. All three mares relaxed shortly thereafter and returned to their seats, and only Angel Bunny seemed to be holding a grudge. He caught Vinyl’s gaze after a few moments of frantic waving and dragged his thumb across his neck, to which the DJ returned a venomous stare… from behind her glasses.
If Angel could see it, he would have been terrified.
“Yes. Those.” Octavia seethed, the mere thought of air quotations sending tremors up her body.
“That’s… really weird,” came Fluttershy’s professional opinion.
“Hey, Twilight said the same thing!”
“SHUT UP VINYL!”
“Anywhoozle,” Vinyl’s one-track mind easily brushed aside Octavia’s outburst. “Can you help her, doc?”
Fluttershy beamed at being addressed as such and nodded emphatically. “Oh, yes! I believe I have just the thing. Angel, get mommy’s pocket watch, please.”
Angel broke eye contact first, which caused a muted whoop of celebration from Vinyl. He glared daggers at her before hopping away and returning a short time after holding a silver pocket watch attached to a long chain.
“Now, I’m going to hypnotize you.”
“That seems unprofessional after ten minutes of evaluation…”
“Who’s the doctor here, me or you?!”
Octavia couldn’t really argue that so she laid back as instructed. Fluttershy sat on the edge of the couch, positioned herself eye-level with her patient, and began to swing the watch back and forth at a steady, rhythmic pace.
Octavia could hear nothing but the sound of her own breathing and the quiet ticking of Fluttershy’s watch for nearly a minute, before the somewhat bashful psychiatrist cleared her throat. “Um… do you feel sleepy yet?”
“Not particularly, no.”
“Oh. Um…” Fluttershy began digging through memories of her schooling, particularly to that one class that she was ten minutes late for and received a D on her mid-term.
“All right class. Today we will be talking about the very contentious topic of hypnosis. Can anypony tell me what hypnosis is?”
A young stallion in the front of the class raised his forehoof. When acknowledged, he began speaking. “It’s a method of using suggestion to lull a patient into a state of pseudo-awareness where they’re capable of recalling memories with greater clarity.”
“Very good, Pennywise! And do you know how often this technique is utilized in modern psychiatry?”
“Um… frequently, sir?”
“Quite the opposite, in fact. Hypnosis is a tool used by stage magicians and hacks. There is no evidence suggesting it works in even the slimmest sense, and at the broadest, is considered reckless and stupid. Today’s class is not about hypnosis. I just wanted to begin by telling you all how worthless it is and how quickly you would be laughed out of business for attempting it. Now, let’s get back to the fascinating world of trepanation!”
Fluttershy returned to the present and looked down at Octavia and then at the watch swinging back and forth in her hoof. “Um… you’re feeling veeeeeerrrrrrrry sleeeeeeeeepyyyyyyyyy…”
“I’m wide awake.”
“Your eyelids are getting heaaaaaaaavyyyyyyyy…”
“Fluttershy, this is not work—”
“NOW ANGEL!”
With all the skill and grace of a ninja, her pet bunny had snuck up behind Octavia, climbed on the armrest of the sofa, and brought a mallet down upon her head. Octavia made an indignant sound akin to a cross between a yelp and a helium balloon deflating and fell backward, her tongue lolling out and her eyes rolling backward.
“Now how sleepy do you feel?”
Octavia did not respond.
“Wonderful!”
“Um…” Vinyl hadn’t moved to stop Angel. She followed his every movement from the closet (which was emanating a rather rancid odor) to the couch. Figuring it was at least initially a part of Octavia’s treatment, she refrained from offering any sort of inexperienced commentary. Now she was beginning to feel conflicted. “Is that normally how hypnosis works?”
Fluttershy hemmed and hawed for a few moments before looking to Angel for advice. He nodded emphatically. “Yes. Yes it is.”
“Oh. All righty then.”
“Octavia! Octavia Worcestershire Philharmonica, are you listening to me?!”
Octavia’s eyes snapped open. She immediately recognized the room she was in: her parent’s dining room. On her left was her mother, Buffy, and on her right was her father, Standing Ovation. Their butler, Shakes, was also present. In his venerable years, he had finally begun to live up to his name.
“Um… yes, father.”
Octavia’s voice was higher. She was still a filly in this dream, at the overprotective, stuffy mercy of her family.
“Good. Now tell me about class today. Did you finally manage to stick the B-minor in the allegro of Beethooven’s number twenty-nine?” Her father punctuated “twenty-nine” with air quotes.
Before little Octavia could answer, she heard a sound not unlike gravel chipping from her mother. Turning, she saw the haggard gray mare grinding her teeth, which were already ruined stubs. However, she did not make a move to stop her father’s infuriating gesture.
“Y-Yes… I did. Mister Jazz even congratulated me and put a gold star sticker on my music sheet.”
“That’s wonderful!” Ovation exclaimed, clapping his hooves together and taking a sip of the chowder set before him. “You’re a rising star in the music world, Octavia, and I know you’ll make your mother and I proud.”
This time the air quotes accompanied the words “your mother and I”, to which Buffy began to shake like she was suffering from a seizure.
Little Octavia picked up on the source of her mother’s distress this time. “Um, father, may I ask why you keep making that gesture? I think it is upsetting mother.”
Ovation looked up from his meal, quirked an eyebrow, then looked across the table to his wife. “Darling, are you all right?”
That was apparently all Buffy needed to unleashed years of repressed anguish. “NO I AM NOT ALRIGHT YOU BLITHERING IDIOT! Look at me!” She waved her hooves across her ruined teeth, the bags under her eyes, and her frazzled, once vibrant violet mane. “You did this to me! Twenty years of air quotes attached to words for no reason at all has driven me mad! I can’t take it anymore! I WANT A DIVORCE!”
A stunned filly sat in mute horror before tears began to well up in her eyes. She ran from the table sobbing, retreating behind her perfectly coifed mane and refusing to come out from underneath her bed for the rest of the evening. Shakes refreshed Ovation’s wine glass. “How is the soup, sir?”
Octavia awoke screaming. The bag of ice that had been placed on her head fell off, and she quickly returned to her prone position, groaning and delicately nursing the lump on her head.
“Octy! What’s up, babe? Did Fluttershy’s hypnosis work?”
Fluttershy was nearby, both she and Angel anxious to hear if her treatment had been successful. Though Octavia was loath to admit that a concussion had given her the answers she sought, she nodded. “It was… my father. He always used air quotes to emphasize completely nonsensical words and phrases, things that did not even need emphasis!” Octavia began to cry and rolled over into Vinyl’s lap, who stroked her mane comfortingly. “Oh Vinyl, it was horrible! He used air quotations for nouns! NOUNS! In the name of Celestia’s holy teats, it was so ridiculous that my mother divorced him over it!”
“Wow. That sucks.” Vinyl was about to cut off her insightful comment there, but after a moment, added: “Hey, I’ve met your mom. She seemed so cool and down-to-earth.”
“Well, she and father and been separated for some years prior to that. She has had time to… adjust.”
“Never met him,” Vinyl mused, still petting her considerably more becalmed lover.
“Oh, I never told you? He passed away shortly thereafter. Mother suspects foul play, but I think it was just ill luck.”
“Oh yeah? What was the cause of death?”
“A flute was shoved down his throat.”
Vinyl hadn’t expected that. She thought the answer would be something mundane like a carriage crash or a dragon attack. Come to think of it…
“Octy. Your mother is a musician too, right?”
“Yes she is.”
“And she plays...?”
“Wind instruments. Primarily flutes. Why do you ask?”
“… No reason.”
Fluttershy cleared her throat, getting the attention of the group. “Well, I’m glad you were able to have this breakthrough, Octavia. If you’d like, I can schedule another time when you can come in and we can continue. We still need to cure you of your aggression for air quotes.”
Octavia sat up, sniffed, and looked at Vinyl, who removed her glasses. Octavia knew what that meant, for she only took off her trademark accessory when the rave filly left and the serious schemer entered. Octavia saw intent in those cerise eyes, and without a word, they simultaneously nodded and rose from the sofa.
“Thank you for your help Fluttershy, but we will no longer be needing your services.” Octavia looked to Vinyl for support, and she received it.
“Yeah, the only thing that can help Octy now is some good ol’ fashioned iron justice.”
Fluttershy wilted under the intensity of her guests. “Wh-what are you two going to do?”
“What we set out to do from the start,” Octavia explained, heading for the door. “We are going to kill air quotations.”
“B-But air quotes aren’t something that you can touch! It’s a gesture; a concept!”
“Which means we gotta go to the only pony around who has enough power to kill a concept, right Octy?”
“That is correct, Vinyl. We have to see Princess Celestia.”
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This story. It LIVES again!
ROFLMAO
5/5 dashies
wow, its been a really long time since i read this, and man i can't wait to see what happens on octy's and vinyls quest to kill the dreaded air quotations
Goddamnit, I knew those dentists were up to no good!
PS: A pair of air quotes disliked this
1591975
It technically never died, though laziness was beating its prone, cowering form pretty hard...
1592722
Thank you!
1593647
Air quotations will fight back. Octavia will become a force of vengeance after air quotations kills Vinyl in an epic carriage chase scene.
1595073
They even denounce my stories! DAMN YOU AIR QUOTES! *shakes fist at sky*
... Wait, what?
... Are you sure?!?!
1601562
I don't know if you've noticed, but I've taken a few artistic liberties with the characters.
1601602 Oh... It's been a while since your last update so I forgot about a lot of the story.
1601723
It's all right. Because Vinyl and Octavia have no personalities besides what is established by the fandom, I can make them act however I want. I get that some people might be a bit turned-off by mad scientist Twilight or psychiatrist Fluttershy, but it's both a comedy and satire, and nothing should be taken too seriously.
1601747
What who could hate Mad scientist Twilight and psychiatrist Fluttershy?
1602370
The same people who argue Cupcakes is too far-fetched to be real.
1602382 Psshh, please what do they know, pinkie is so high strung that she went into super depression just because she thought her friends didn't like her. If that can happen i bet she can go crazy enough to start baking ponies into wonderful sugary treats.
895932
Well, several of us think it's Lyra's middle name.
i.imgur.com/NHuJ8.gif
This is the funniest damn fic I have ever read in a while.
Ok then... yup this is getting a little weird for me...
Is this a trollfic? If so wonderful! If not than this is the weirdest thing i ever read...
..... this just got dumb
YUP this is AWESOMESSS
I saw a story called title and had to take a gander.
Is this still an active story or have you dropped it or quit?
3454967 Same here. A story called 'Title' with absolutely no short description. I had to know. I do not regret.
Breath, damn you! Breath!