A Sailboat, Four Mares and a Crate Full of Rum

by psp7master

Chapters

• 1. When Life Gives You Rum...
• 2. ...You Drink the Rum, Obviously
• 3. The Title Says "Sailboat" - What Did You Expect?
• 4. Setting a Sail and Setting Sail
• 5. Foursomes Are a Rummy Business
• 6. The Morning After You-Know-What
• 7. In Which Real Pirates Actually Appear and Shit Prepares to Get Real
• 8. In Which Shit Finally Gets Real
• 9. You Can't Spell Shipping Without Rum
• 10. Suddenly, the Journey Continues
• 11. Staying Alive

1. When Life Gives You Rum...

A Sailboat, Two Mares and a Crate Full of Rum

Chapter One

When Life Gives You Rum...

***

It was a dull warm day in autumn and the clocks were striking thirteen.

Or, rather, they would be, if it weren't for the fact that Equestrian clocks had eight-hour faces. So, the clocks were striking five, which still signified the dawn on afternoon, and Vinyl Scratch was sound asleep.

Imagine:

Somewhere in Equestria, a mailmare is a dreaming of bubblewrap and blueberry muffins. A Canterlot professor is being chased by his thesis, stolen from a student: the nightmare never stops, and he is followed, crushed, bitten by the merciless paper. A blues guy is restringing his guitar, having just awoken from a drunken sleep, his hazy mind failing to comprehend he's putting the G-string on the sixth. A fashion designer in Ponyville is facing the most difficult dilemma in her life: red or blue?

Vinyl Scratch is dreaming of rum and rutting her marefriend.

Done imagining? Great, now let's get back to reality.

Vinyl's serene dreams of neat alcohol and bodily fluids were mercilessly crushed by a trademark punch by the Holy Hoof of Homemade Justice - a new technique employed by the very marefriend from her dreams. Only, in her dream, Octavia, devoid of the pink bowtie, was wearing a pirate's cap and had a wooden leg. And a parrot.

Geez, my dreams are weird, Vinyl thought as she resurfaced on the bed, eager to delve into the depths of her active subconscious once more. Alas, the Holy Hoof had other plans, prompting the white mare to leave her abode of white sheets and pillows and traverse the sad realm of reality.

Rum-devoid, sex-devoid, happiness-devoid reality.

Though, to think about it, it wasn't that true. While happiness may be a philosophic matter, thus escaping Vinyl's narrow reach, sex was a matter more close to the DJ's liking, and the glorious sex schedule on her wall was, so far, fulfilled dutifully. Also, if she searched for it, she was sure that Octavia still had a bottle of rum left in her wine cabinet. And so did she. Maybe a couple. Three bottles, I think. Vinyl reached under the bed with her levitation. Eight. Huh. Close enough.

Eight bottles was enough to keep her rum-drinking urges at bay. Vinyl made a mental note to check with her doctor regarding her growing rum (and sex) addiction. Not that she had a personal doctor, to think about it.

"Vinyl, are you going to wake up or not?"

Her marefriend's question made Vinyl rub her chin as she took the perfect pose of The Thinker, balancing on three legs against the wall as she scratched away the soreness in her posterior against the bedside table filled with wrapping paper that once belonged to chocolate as its rightful clothing.

"Why, my dear Tavi, this is a jolly good question!" Vinyl exclaimed in a very special kind of idiotic glee that only just-woken-up souls possess at its finest. "We must define 'wake' though. Is it the same as if we were following Finneighan's Wake or-"

Octavia's hoof once more proved its supremacy over any philosophical theory. Theorising her hoof at the back of Vinyl's head had an astonishing effect on the philosophising DJ. The cellist briefly considered establishing her own school of thought.

"Geez, I'm up, I'm up!" Vinyl waved her hooves in the air, backing away from the Hoof.

"Vinyl." Octavia's tone took an even sterner spin - if it was ever possible. "You used the G-word. We agreed not to use the G-word."

Vinyl stared at her marefriend. "I thought we agreed to never use the Z-word."

"Firstly," Octavia corrected, "It is 'agreed never to use', and secondly, what's the Z-word?"

"I can't tell you!" Vinyl exclaimed. "We agreed not to use it!"

"But what is it?" Octavia groaned in exasperation. Now she was getting really curious, which was a state that she had normally forgotten, living with Vinyl "in a stable civil partnership", as the DJ liked to call their relationship. As if just dating that mare wasn't enough... If anything, this formula enabled Vinyl to forego her duties in paying the rent, washing the dishes, cooking (Thank Celestia for that), and buying groceries. (Because ten packs of crisps and two six-packs, topped with rum and marshmallows does not count as "groceries".)

"Sneaky sneaky Tavi." Vinyl grinned slyly. "You're testing me, right? Well, I'm not gonna say the Z-word!"

Octavia facehoofed. Now her curiosity was channeled at the mysterious "Z-word". It even sounds silly, she mused. "Zed-word." The cellist sighed. Time to enact drastic measures. "Vinyl," she cooed, "If you tell me what this 'Z-word' is, I'll rub your belly." VInyl's ears perked up, eyes shining with hope. "Yes." Octavia smiled. "The way you like it, with a very happy ending."

Vinyl felt torn apart. On one hoof, she knew that she couldn't say the Z-word, but on the other hoof... Belly rubs... And with her favourite happy ending, no less! Vinyl loved the happy ending: after the rubs, Octavia gave her a glass of coconut milk mixed with rum and sang to her as she dozed off to sleep. My favourite ending.

Finally, the DJ decided. "Okay, the Z-word stands for..." She lowered her voice, looking around. "Zigga."

Octavia blinked. "What's a zigga?"

"Shh!" Vinyl looked around again. "Tavi, that's forbidden! It's the word ponies use to berate zebras!" the unicorn explained.

Octavia blinked again. "But... Why would they..." She narrowed her eyes. "You know what. They don't. Why would anypony berate zebras?"

Vinyl looked at her mare indulgingly. "Because ponies think that their race is superior to the zebra race?"

"That..." Octavia felt that she was hitting her daily blinking limit already. "That doesn't make sense. Nopony thinks that ponies are superior."

Vinyl smirked darkly. "That's what the government wants you to believe."

Octavia moaned a moan of a dying walrus. "Vinyl, we don't have a government! Equestria is an absolute monarchy!"

Vinyl just tossed her a conspirational look. Octavia simply sighed and made a movement to walk away from her apparently-growing-insane mare, but was stopped by the same mare tugging at her hair - a gesture that she did appreciate in bed, from time to time, but that seemed deeply inappropriate at the moment. "Tavi! What about my belly rubs?"

The cellist glared at her mare pointedly. "No belly rubs for you."

"But whyyyyy?" Vinyl lamented in a shriek like a philosophical pig dying of orgasmic glee. "You promised!"

"Because you're a racist." Octavia grinned to herself. A perfect excuse to both avoid wasting energy and irritate her mare just a little.

"Who's a racist?"

Octavia yelped, crashing into something on her way out. Something warm and mint-coloured. Something that had just asked a question. While her initial conclusion included a seapony invasion, Octavia soon came to realise that it, in fact, was just Lyra. Wait a minute.

"Nopony's a racist," Octavia replied in an even tone, regaining her composure. "How did you get in?"

"The key was under the rug," Lyra explained.

"Oh." Octavia nodded. "That makes se- wait a minute" She stared at the mint mare. "We don't have a rug."

"Um." Lyra blinked. "Oh! You remember about the thing at the place?"

"Lyra," Octavia growled menacingly. Vinyl just snickered, waiting the storm out.

"No, I'm serious!" Lyra exclaimed. "The thing... at the place. You know. That one." The mint face scrunched as Lyra's brain attempted to make something up. "With the pirates." You're a genius, Lyra! the mare congratulated herself. "The one invitation from Jeffrey we received a month ago and promised to drop by 'tomorrow'?"

"He's an entr- enter- ent- businesspony now," Vinyl corrected, a little ashamed to have forgotten about the rum-consuming, sabre-wielding, parrot-wearing pirate. Though, you can't really wear a parrot. Unless it's new slang for casualwear. It had been easy to forget that, with Octavia constantly tending to her. And, by "tending", she didn't mean coconut milk mixed with rum. She meant sex.

"Still," Lyra observed, "It has never been a good idea to make an ex-pirate wait." She pondered for a moment. "I suggest we finally pay him a visit."

Octavia sighed. She knew it was true. Still, such a visit definitely prompted an 'adventure, yarr mateys!', and she didn't want any kind of adventure. "Is that why you broke into our flat?"

"Yes," Lyra said. "No," she quickly amended. "I also wanted to see you make out."

Vinyl wiggled her brow at Octavia. Octavia hit her with a hoof.

Vinyl sighed, rubbing the sore spot, while Lyra laughed and Octavia fumed with irritation. It was just another Saturday.

Only, they were going to visit a pirate's office.

2. ...You Drink the Rum, Obviously

A Sailboat, Two Mares and a Crate Full of Rum

Chapter Two

...You Drink the Rum, Obviously

***

"Tavi, are we there yet?"

Octavia's eyes narrowed as she cast a glare at her marefriend, blazing with the intensity of a thousand suns and the deadliness of a million steel daggers dripping with venom. "Vinyl. Don't. You. Dare."

The DJ briefly considered whether to obey her inner longing or, for once in her life, be reasonable, and face the goal life was now setting before her like an adult, responsible for her actions and their repercussions.

"Taaaaaaviiii, are we theeeeere yeeeeet?"

The reasonable part of her brain seemed to have lost the battle before it had even begun. As usual. The Striking Hoof of Justice, however, never failed to win the battle.

Vinyl carried on, rubbing her temple. "That's domestic violence," she finally concluded, taking, however, a precautious step aside from the bearer of the ancient mare-beating technique. "Imma report you to the police, Tavi. You are my civil partner and I expect a gentle and loving treatment from you!" Dammit, "Imma"? Now I'm speaking like a zigga... Vinyl's eyes suddenly widened as she realised the implications of her thoughts. Nopony can read thoughts... right? We're not in Nineteen Neighty-Four, after all... Still, just in case somepony was actually monitoring her thoughts, she added mentally, I didn't mean it that way. I didn't mean to say 'zigga'. I meant... "Z-horse."

"You are civil partners now?" Bon-Bon wondered, walking side by side with her cheerful minty mare.

"That's what Vinyl says," Octavia sighed. "It doesn't mean anything, though: what is a civil partnership, after all?" she lamented. "Theoretically, it means living together, sharing property and responsibilities. Equally. In reality, it just means I pay all the rent and do all the housework, because I'm not just a marefriend; I'm a civil partner." The cellist sighed again. The thin line between dating and marriage seemed to be her plight for quite a while.

"Still domestic violence, though," Vinyl observed, watching her hooves clop along the early-autumn asphalt. What a sombre sight. "If you keep punching me, I'll suspend our sexy times!" she warned her mare gravely.

Octavia almost tripped. Almost. "Vinyl, I am the one with the right to suspend sexy times in this relationship!" she exclaimed, drawing the public's attention. The passers-by quickly kept on trotting, though.

"But... Octavia," Bon-Bon said meekly. "Didn't you say that being civil partners implied equality in all matters?"

Two pairs of eyes stared at the confectioner. Bon-Bon yelped slightly and shifted closer to Lyra, feeling the nearness of her mare warm her up. At least we never suspend our sexy times, she thought contentedly.

"Besides," Lyra observed, "if you suspend sexy times, how would I watch your sexy sweaty bodies at night?"

The three mares felt silent, stopping abruptly as the mint unicorn proceeded on her way. Only in a few seconds did Lyra realise that something was wrong. Looking back and seeing Bon-Bon horrified expression, Octavia's murderous one, and Vinyl's hopeful, foursome-longing eyes, she chuckled. "Come on! It was a joke! I wouldn't want to watch your sexy sweaty bodies at night." She pondered. "Well, so long as voyeurism remains a criminal offence," she whispered to herself.

"Well, who wouldn't want to see us have sex?" Vinyl wondered, as it seemed to her, rhetorically. If "rhetorically" is the word I want.

Octavia raised her hoof. Vinyl mouthed, Sexy times.

Reluctantly, the hoof came down.

***

"Mister McKraken will see you in a moment."

Vinyl leaned back in her seat in the spacious lobby in front of the ex-pirate's office, just as The Blackest Pony in Equestria, as Vinyl had titled him, delivered the information and disappeared behind the door. Though, you never become an ex-pirate. It's not a job. It's a devotion. It's a life calling. The DJ made a mental note to write an essay on that.

Meanwhile, Octavia was having an identity crisis. One one hoof, she was the leader. She was the leading mare. She was the bearer of the ancient Striking Hoof technique. She was in the possession of superior wit and thinking capability. But still, she succumbed to her mare - civil partner - and had withdrawn the Hoof of Justice in fear of their sexy times being suspended. I'm losing my touch. Octavia sighed.

Bon-Bon was having a tough dilemma: on one hoof, she wanted to run away, and, on the other hoof, she wanted to run away, only very fast. The choice didn't come easy. One way or another, visiting a pirate (The mare shivered.), a month overdue (Her teeth clicked.), and for him to collect a debt, no less! I shouldn't have let Lyra try to hijack that ship, Bon-Bon lamented. Now, not only were her dreams of running an overseas chain of sweets stores ruined and shattered, but she was also one of the debtors to a pirate captain, or, at least, an ex-pirate captain. Though, he did save our lives back then...

"Please, come on in!" a smooth, refined voice called out from behind the door. The mares got up, begrudgingly, Bon-Bon shaking her mare to wake her up from the snooze she'd been practicing for a few minutes already, and entered the door.

Inside, it was a perfectly plain, ordinary office. There were shelves with various diplomas and bookshelves, and a wine cabinet, and a few impressionist paintings that always looked like they were hanging wrong. The chair rotated, revealing, to the mares, the very same Jeffrey the Kraken, the famous - or, if you wish, infamous - pirate captain. Only now, he was wearing a three-piece suit and sported a top hat and a monocle. He was puffing on a cigar, instead of his usual pipe, and...

"Polly!" Vinyl exclaimed. "Polly, your parrot! Where is she?"

"Now, how is that for a greeting." The pirate smirked. "Why, my dear Vinyl, she is perfectly all right. As are you all, I see." He puffed on the cigar. Octavia suddenly remember that there probably was a smoking ban in the city. Still, she kept her tongue in her mouth. Unlike last night... The grey mare blushed as her own subconscious decided to start a war against her. "Now, I take it you, albeit late, have come to run the errand I have for you so we can be quits, so to speak?"

Octavia nodded. Bon-Bon took a step back. Lyra seemed like she was about to doze off again. Vinyl scrunched her face in mild disgust. "Jeffrey... What happened to you? You were my hero!" She felt tears welling in her eyes. "You were a rum-drinking, pipe-smoking, fun-having pirate! And now? Now you've become just another posh businesspony!" She moaned in despair. "Just like Octavia!"

"Hey!" The cellist tried to protest, but the old pirate let out a raspy cough, drowning out any sound.

"Me knows tha', Vinyl," he rasped sadly at the mare, a tear in his eye. Octavia sighed. And, accent change in three, two, one... "Me knows. But I's had a lo' o' adv'n'ture back in me days. Ye's youn', an' I's envy ye. Me wish I's could go with ye, b't I can't." Bon-Bon closed her eyes, trying to understand the everchanging accent painfully. Lyra, finally, dozed off, on her hooves. "I need ye t' do one last job fer me. I's has a brother, an' I real' need t' del'ver this 'ere pack'ge to 'im." He placed a brown parcel on the table. "Me's too grey 'n' ol' t' do tha'. Ye, though, ye lassies!" He coughed fiercly, in a fit. "Do tha' - I's has th' address written down 'ere - an' me says tha' it's a thank-ye 'nough for me saving ye lives."

Bon-Bon sighed. We don't really have a choice, do we? Vinyl felt a lump in her throat as she watched the sombre decadence of the hero of her youth. Adult...ness. Whatever. Her mind didn't make a connection between only a month passing by and the pirate looking years older.

Octavia frowned. "You own a shipping firm." Mmm, shipping, Vinyl thought off-hoofedly. "Can't you just... you know, ship it?" I know there's a flank here I'd ship to me... Vinyl licked her lips, however, stopping herself immediately. Not here, Vinyl. Not in public.

Jeffrey laughed through a coughing fit. "Na', 's n't possible. Th' way 's long an' dark, fill'd with monsters, and secrets, and the untraversed seas... Nopony has ever been in those deep, dark waters before!" Octavia noticed the sudden lack of accent.

"Um... Your brother lives there. Surely you've visited him," Bon-Bon suggested.

Jeffrey narrowed his eyes. "I'm lazy. And you owe me your lives."

Bon-Bon whimpered, "Okay."

Vinyl levitated the parcel and placed it in her saddlebag. "All right, Jeffrey, we'll do that! Just give us a ship and a team."

"A ship I'll give ye." Jeffrey nodded. "A team? Ye's a team. She's the cap'n." He pointed his hoof at Lyra, who seemed to wake up just now, mumbling something resembling, "Jibagawha?" "She knows how to st'r a ship, and I sees me youngin' in 'er."

Bon-Bon's head began to ache, not in the slightest because of the constant shift in the pirate's accent. Lyra saluted sleepily, not completely comprehending what was going on.

Vinyl opened her mouth in protest, but Jeffrey raised his hoof, preventing any discussion. "I said me word. Now, g't the ship in th' harbour, or find yer own."

Octavia's eye twitched. Nevertheless, she followed Bon-Bon and Lyra out of the room, followed by Vinyl, who cast one last glance at Jeffrey, both solemn and pitying.

Jeffrey sighed and put out his cigar. He took a bottle of rum in his hooves, inspecting it. How long had it been since..? He opened the bottle and took a good swig. Suddenly, the world became a little brighter. With a grin, he pressed the button on the calling device, addressing his secretary, "Call me boys and tell 'em we're not done yet!" He paused, taking another swig. "The ol' good team be goin' adv'n't'ring them seas, yarr!"

With that, he leaned back and pressed the button on his sound system.

3. The Title Says "Sailboat" - What Did You Expect?

A Sailboat, Two Mares and a Crate Full of Rum

Chapter Three

The Title Says "Sailboat" - What Did You Expect?

***

"This... is a sailboat."

"Sailing boat," Octavia corrected her mare, staring at the small, yacht-like... vessel that was waiting for them in the harbour.

"No." Vinyl shook her head as the autumn wind blew at the boat's sail, threatening to crush the mast that was creaking and moaning. "This is a sailboat." She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Are you sure this is the 'ship' Jeffrey wants us to take?" she addressed the Blackest Guy.

"It's Mr McKraken for you," the stallion replied with a bland expression. "And yes, this is the boat."

"Yes, a boat," Lyra chimed in. "Not a ship. I don't know how to steer a sailing boat. A sailboat. Whatever."

The Guy of the Sheerest Black shrugged. "That's your problem, not mine." Lyra cast him a glare that could certainly kill a squirrel, under certain circumstances, to which Lyra did not want to allude at the moment. "Good luck," he finally said, walking away, dropping as he passed Vinyl, "Break a leg."

Vinyl gritted her teeth, but remained silent. He's just envious. He just wants Jeffrey all to himself. That... did raise certain implications. Implications that Vinyl stuffed into one of the deepest nooks of her mind, somewhere between a pondering over the essay "How to launch a hedgehog from a toaster in less than five seconds" and a mental summary of "One thousand uses of rum: the unabriged edition".

"All right." Lyra sighed, rubbing her forehead. It was time to take the matter in her hooves. "Since I'm the captain of this ship..." She pondered for a moment. If I'm a captain, I should speak like a captain. "Since I's th' cap'n o' this 'ere-"

Bon-Bon interrupted the tirade with a swift, beautiful, professional blow of the cream-coloured  hoof, making Octavia gasp in awe as she marvelled at the refined, exquisite gesture that put her own punches to shame. I definitely need to take some lessons from Bon-Bon... she mused, just as Vinyl was hit with the same thought and shivered at the very idea of her ma- civil partner picking up a thing or two from the reserved, yet so powerful, cream-coloured mare. Or it was just the cold. Definitely the cold.

"Point taken." Lyra rubbed the sore spot. "Anyway. Since Jeffrey said that I'm the captain, I'm the captain." She looked pointedly at each of the tree mares, daring them to oppose her. Octavia didn't care; Bon-Bon was happy that her mare was the captain; Vinyl wanted to murder Lyra as her competitor. Just a little, the DJ assured herself. She didn't want to murder her to death, of course - just... a little. Into submission. And then I'll become the captain and have a foursome with her and Bonnie. And Tavi, of course. That sounded like a plan.

Although, seeing as captain Lyra was supported by a mare with such a terrifying and powerful hoof-combat technique, Vinyl immediately wanted to postpone the plan. For a while. Until her ingenious mind came up with an even greater, or more elaborate, plan.

"All right. Now, I'm going to assign you your positions. Octavia." She pointed her hoof at the cellist. "Since you are the only one here who can cook, you will be the cook."  Octavia nodded, content that cooking was something within her expertise. Besides, Vinyl already ate like a whole team.

"Hey!" Bon-Bon glanced at the newly-assigned captain, pondering whether to use the rare technique or reserve it for a greater offence. "Lyra, honey, I can cook too, you know?"

Lyra smiled sweetly at her marefriend. "Of course, Bonnie. But you can't be the cook: you are now the captain's wife." The mint mare beamed proudly. Bon-Bon blushed a little.

"Wait." Octavia blinked. "You two aren't married. Same-sex marriage isn't even legal in Equestria... Is it?" The cellist was growing suspicious.

Lyra and Bon-Bon exchanged awkward glances while Vinyl gesticulated wildly, standing behind Octavia. Same-sex marriage had been legalised for a week already, and it had taken great effort on Vinyl's part to let her civil partner remain in oblivious bliss: the DJ had burnt every newspaper they'd received, in addition to breaking the TV set and keeping her marefriend occupied with sexy times. Lyra and Bon-Bon's marriage, taking place several days ago, had remained secret, for now, on Vinyl's plea. For Vinyl, living together with Octavia as civil partners - no resposibility attached - definitely seemed better than marrying the love of her life and actually having to do something around the house. Besides, she felt that she wasn't ready for such a commitment. But it was an actual serious thought, and such thoughts were allowed to enter Vinyl's mind strictly once a day, no longer than a minute each.

"Noooo." Lyra chuckled sheepishly. "Of course not. That's just another position: captain's wife. Since Bon-Bon is my... marefriend, she's the captain's wife. Easy." Lyra let a false grin onto her face. Bon-Bon nodded, still somewhat lacking understanding of such further deception. Vinyl prayed to the God of Rum. Please buy it, Tavi, please buy it please buy it, please buy it!

"Let's see what this boat has to offer," Octavia said finally, with a sigh that drowned Vinyl's own sigh of relief.

***

"Okay. At least there are two rooms and a kitchen. Like a flat."

Lyra's fake cheerfulness was not shared by any of the other members of the "crew". The "rooms" were terribly small and cramped. The sailing boat - or, as Vinyl had christened it, the "sailboat" - was terribly, scaringly small.

"Hey, there's even a maintenance room!" Lyra tried to brighten the mood. It didn't seem to be very effective. "All right. Bonnie and I will be sleeping in the captain's, and you two will be sleeping in the crew's," captain Lyra (as she proudly called herself inside her head now) ordered.

"Hey!" Vinyl protested. "Can't I and my mare get better conditions, according to my position?" She puffed her chest proudly. "I'm the supervisor, after all!"

Lyra stared at the DJ blankly. "Vinyl, if I didn't assign you a position at once, it doesn't mean you're a supervisor."

Vinyl's ears perked up, her eyes shining behind her shades as she was ready to unleash her anger upon the mint mare.

Lyra grinned. "You are the cabin colt."

4. Setting a Sail and Setting Sail

A Sailboat, Two Mares and a Crate Full of Rum

Chapter Four

Setting a Sail and Setting Sail

***

"Aaaand one more time!"

Vinyl grunted curses at Lyra as she kept on cleaning the deck with a toothbrush, because, apparently, there were no broomsticks in the "maintenance room", which, in fact, had turned out to be a small closet.

"Come on, cabin colt!" Lyra kept on yelling, much to the exhilaration of the many sailors in the harbour, who found the sight deeply amusing. "I want this baby nice 'n' clean before we set sail!" She turned to Bon-Bon, who was standing next to her. "And I want to make this baby nice 'n' clean once we set sail," she addressed her wife in a low, sexy tone.

Bon-Bon fluttered her eyelashes, accepting her new "responsibilities" eagerly, while Vinyl kept on grumbling. I'm not a cabin colt! I'm a filly! ...Mare. Whatever. The toothbrush was firm in her mouth, since Lyra had insisted that only manually-cleaned floors coulb be ever truly clean.

"Cabin colt! You missed a spot!" Lyra called out, holding her mare by the waist. Yes. She was definitely liking it. Captaining was a nice, promising experience.

"Dammit, Lyra!" Vinyl spat the toothbrush. "Don't you think it's gone too far?" She glared at the mint mare. "It's all fun and games, but I'm your friend, after all!" The DJ sighed. "At least, used to be."

Lyra swiftly walked towards the white mare, making Bon-Bon eep as she suddenly no longer felt the comforting pressure of the mint hoof. She leaned in with a stern face, as if to make a reprimanding of such fervour that it just had to be toned down. "Vinyl, please, please play along."

Vinyl hadn't expected that. She had expected something entirely different. Discordian glares? Yes. Irritable shouts? Sure, why not? Snake-ish hissing? Most certainly. Pleading, soft whispering? Not in the slightest. Such behaviour was unusual for Lyra, and, for captain Lyra, it was even more unusual. Not that I could get used to captain Lyra, with her captaining for such a short while.

"Vinyl. Being a captain has been my dream, my whole life. Since I was a filly... You know why I agreed to help Bonnie hijack that ship where we met?" Lyra paused for a second. "Of course, I wanted to help her out, but... I really really wanted to become a captain, even if it was only temporary. I learnt how to steer a ship. I learnt to swim good and fast. I watched all of the Pirates of the Coltribbean. Twice."

Maybe it was the last confession - most certainly the last confession - but Vinyl begrudgingly decided to tag along. For now. Being a fan of the Pirates of the Coltribbean - and just pirates - she couldn't help but sympathise. Or empathise. Vinyl had never really taken Philosophy classes in college. If only because she'd never been to college. "All right, Lyra."

"Thank you," Lyra whispered into her ear. "You're sexy like that." Vinyl's eyes snapped wide open as her mind tried to process the information. "And Vinyl?" Lyra raised her voice, stepping back. "It's Captain Lyra, cabin colt! With a capital C!" The mare grinned, once more playing the role - her role.

I'm gonna murder you, Lyra, Vinyl thought with a tiny grin as she kept on brushing the floor. Just wait for it. I'm gonna kill you dead.

***

"Lyra, honey, are you sure you know how to do that?"

Bon-Bon's soothing voice did nothing to prevent the captain from cursing loudly as she tried to set the ever-so-disobedient sail. Theoretically, it should be very easy: take a piece of cloth and set it properly. Only Lyra had no idea whatsoever how to do that. Still, she couldn't lose face. "Of course I do, Bonnie! What are you taking me for?"

"For a captain who doesn't know a thing about setting a sail?" Vinyl supplied eagerly, watching the mint mare groan in despair.

"What do you know about navigation, cabin colt?" Lyra grumbled, still not dropping the act.

Vinyl deadpanned. Then, "Well, first of all, you point the boat leeward. Then, let out the mainsheet and sheet in till it ain't flappin' no more. Then you trim the sail when the inside telltale flaps and ease the sail when the outside telltale flaps. Fix it. That's all."

Lyra just stared at the white mare in awe. Bon-Bon's jaw seemed to have hit the floor. Lyra rubbed her temples with a sigh. Finally, she looked at the DJ again. "If you do that, you're promoted to Lieutenant."

***

"Yo-ho! We be trav'ling them seas, mateys!"

Lyra was on  top of the world.  Well, technically, she was on top of the mast. Still, that didn't prevent her from being on top of the world as the sailing boat left the busy harbour and began its traversing of seas far and wide.

Vinyl - Lieutenant Vinyl - was grinning widely as the fresh, vernal breeze hit her face. We be trav'ling them seas indeed, she concluded delightfully. They had a long journey ahead - a fine voyage, with adventures awaiting them! Nopony said it would be peaceful, Vinyl mused. The hardships of the pirate life waited for them. But no sea-travelling hardship was too hard for them to overcome.

"Lyra?"

The three mares looked at Octavia, who had entered the deck, a grim, unamused look on her face, the kind of look she had when Vinyl launched a hedgehog from a toaster. From a bass cannon. On a sixteen-storey building. After occasionally setting the building on fire and flooding it subsequently.

"Captain Lyra," the mint mare corrected the cook with a frown, jumping down from the mast - an action that turned out to be an easy feat, given how short the mast actually was. "What's the matter, cook? Dinner ahoy?"

Octavia's eye twitched. Then the other one. Vinyl watched in amusement her ma- civil partner's eyelids' dance. A polka, she concluded. It's a polka this time. "No." Octavia's voice was dripping venomous irony. "Dinner is not 'ahoy'."

Lyra eyed the grey mare sternly. "Why?"

"Because somepony..." Octavia looked at the three mares, irritation veiling in her eyes that had ceased their dance.

"What?" Lyra moved closer. "Speak up, cook."

Octavia groaned. "Somepony forgot to take some Celestia-damn food with us."

5. Foursomes Are a Rummy Business

A Sailboat, Two Mares and a Crate Full of Rum

Chapter Five

Foursomes Are a Rummy Business

***

"I'm huuuuu-"

Octavia's hoof shone radiantly, reflecting the beauty of the sunlight, as it crushed elegantly against the back of Vinyl's head, colliding with the white mare pleasantly. "No you don't!" the cellist ordered sternly.

Vinyl glared at her ma- civil partner. "First of all, it's 'No, you aren't'. Sheesh, Tavi, learn your grammar!" The DJ rubbed the back of her head in a familiar motion, used to such insinuations from her mare. "Secondly, yes, I am. I'm huuuuu-"

Octavia needed but lift her hoof, and Vinyl had ceased the wailing immediately. Good. She's learning. "We should turn back and get some food at the port, then sail again."

Vinyl did a spit-take on thin air. So did Lyra. Bon-Bon watched worriedly as her wife tried to regain her breath, while Vinyl's face grew red with embarrassment. "Tavi!" she hissed violently. "You can't turn back once you've set sail! It's against the pirate codex!"

"Firstly, we're not pirates!" Octavia exclaimed, standing her ground. "And secondly, there's no such thing as a pirate codex!"

"There is." Lyra glared at the cellist. "Codex Pirata, written by Captian Mormane the Moustached himself!"

Octavia raised her brow. "That's a stupid title for a book." And a stupid name for a captain. Who would name a pony based on their facial hair?

"It's Latin," Vinyl chimed in, taking a step back so that she was standing near Lyra, opposite her civil partner. Who was now offending her very worldview. Suddenly, Bon-Bon really wished she were somewhere else.

"Well," Octavia chuckled, "it's not like you speak Latin, Vinyl."

The cook's words were met with silence.

"Um, Tavi..." Vinyl chuckled sheepishly. "I do speak Latin. It's the international pirate language, after all..."

Octavia furrowed her brow with a deep frown. What?

"Me too," Lyra called out. "Learned it ex libris."

Octavia cast a lost, longing glance at Bon-Bon, in whom she sought help and salvation. The captain's wife smiled weakly. "Um, I don't speak Latin." Octavia sighed in relief. "I can only read simple texts and write a little."

Octavia's eye twitched dangerously. "I will murder you. All of you."

Bon-Bon eeped. Vinyl and Lyra exchanged knowing looks.

"See, my dearest Lyra," Vinyl began, putting on a monocle that she'd taken out of... thin air? At least so it seemed to Octavia. "Simple, ignorant ponies always restrain to violent measures."

"Resort," Octavia hissed. "The word you want is 'resort', dear."

"Aye, my learned colleague." Lyra nodded, putting on a top hat (Octavia's mind refused to think about where the mint mare had got it from) on top of her pirate cap. Which was utterly ridiculous. "Octavia is a naive simpleton indeed."

The double blow from Octavia sent both the Captain and the Lieutenant tumbling backwards. Bon-Bon eyed the hoof-fighting technique with fear and respect. Octavia wiped the sweat off her brow. "I will be in the hammock if you need me." She glared at Vinyl and looked pointedly at Lyra. "And you'd better not need me." With that, she trotted off.

"Wow, Octavia really likes it rough, doesn't she?" Lyra sat in place, rubbing her forehead with a wince.

Vinyl copied the action. "You can't imagine. Like, that one time, when we bought the rope and the baseball bat-"

Bon-Bon closed her eyes, covering her ears with her hooves. "Too! Much! Information!"

Lyra eyed her mare sadly, then turned to Vinyl with a sigh. "Bonnie has never been into kinky stuff."

"Well, that can be amended." Vinyl wiggled her eyebrow. "A simple foursome, and all your fantasies come true~"

Lyra frowned, but rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "You know, you might have a point... After all, we're stuck on this ship... Just the four of us..."

Vinyl nodded with a smile. Just as planned. "I suggest you discuss it with Bon-Bon while I go check up the kitchen. Maybe Tavi overlooked something?" She did not reveal that, as she ran off to the kitchen, she did it with the sole intent of giggling and squealing like a little filly. "Foursome, foursome, foursome~" she cooed, prancing in glee. Suddenly, her gaze fell on a crate in the corner, tucked neatly beneath an old sail.

Vinyl gulped. Can it be?

***

"And that's why foursomes are so good for health," Lyra explained as Vinyl emerged from the kitchen, levitating a huge wooden crate. The look on Bon-Bon's face showed confusion and disbelief.

"Lyra, I really don't think it's a-"

"Guess what?" Vinyl interrupted, waving the crate in front of Lyra's eyes, the wooden object still covered by the sail.

"Food?" Bon-Bon asked with hope in her tone.

Vinyl shook her head. "Something better." She threw off the sail, revealing the contents of the crate to the two mares.

"Rum!"

6. The Morning After You-Know-What

A Sailboat, Two Mares and a Crate Full of Rum

Chapter Six

The Morning After You-Know-What

***

Octavia opened her eyes.

Her poor brain cores were immediately assaulted with sharp bolts of pain: a valid pinishment of what she'd committed the day prior to the unfortunate striking-march of the hangover. Only the cellist - the cook - could not remember what exactly she had committed. Indeed, she still held memories of Lyra and Vinyl celebrating the Second Coming of Rum, and Vinyl suggesting that they rename it 'The Second Cumming', and Lyra agreeing, and she, Octavia, hitting Vinyl, and Bon-Bon hitting Lyra... and then rum happened. Much rum happened. Very much. A crate full of rum happened, and, apparently, it happened very hard.

Happened so hard, in fact, that she could not stand up. A great weight was pinning her down - the weight of guilt. Oh, wait a minute. While the weight of guilt was indeed heavy, Octavia could swear that guilt didn't snore. But... Vinyl didn't snore either. If anything, she slept very silently... Octavia managed to turn her head in the general direction of the sound. On her chest lay a very familiar mint unicorn mare, snoring loudly, her hoof  absent-mindedly caressing the fur on Octavia's shoulder.

The cellist shut her eyes. We didn't. She turned her head to the other side, only to see Bon-Bon snoozing peacefully, the cream-colorued head resting in her, Octavia's, lap. We didn't. Octavia looked up and saw Vinyl standing next to the small bed, grinning widely. "Soooooo, Octy, did you like last night?"

Octavia closed her eyes. For buck's sake.

***

The clock was ticking. Well, technically, there were no clocks on board. But, somewhere, the clock was ticking. Metaphorically.

Octavia glared at the three mares around her: Lyra wincing in pain of headache, Vinyl grinning, and Bon-Bon blushing and trying to look as small as possible. Hard for her when she has such a big flank, the cellist observed, her eyes lingering on the confectioner's posterior. Gah! Why am I thinking of Bon-Bon's flank? "This never happened," Octavia said finally.

"What never happened?" Vinyl blinked.

"You all getting me drinking myself into oblivion and having your way with me!" Octavia yelled.

Vinyl smiled sheepishly. "I was just playing along."

Octavia sighed and rubbed her temples. Such a shame... Octavia Philarmonica, the renowned cellist, had a foursome with a professional hijacker, a pirate-pretender, and a DJ. Don't know which one's the worst of the three. How could she look into ponies' eyes now?

"Octavia, if anything, it was you who had your way with us," Bon-Bon barely whispered, almost hiding behind her mare's back.

Octavia turned round sharply. "What."

Bon-Bon yelped but managed to continue. "Well, after your sixth bottle, you started shouting about you being the 'rutting Queen' and daring us to try your skilful tongue-play and-"

"Enough." Octavia closed her eyes, counting to ten. Then to sixty. Then to one hundred. Then, she took a deep breath and managed a smile. "Okay. We may all have drunk a little more than expected-"

"We got totally wasted!" Vinyl supplied cheerfully (and a little too eagerly, Octavia noted).

The cellist just glared at her mare. "Yes, thank you, Vinyl. Still, we must all forget this little incident and-"

"It wasn't little. You were a sex beast, Tavi!" Lyra nodded enthusiastically at Vinyl's words. Bon-Bon flushed crimson. "You practically raped us!"

"I will rape you with a rusty spear if you don't SHUT UP!"

The sailboat was silent for a few moments. Satisfied with her outburst, Octavia exhaled and concluded, "This never happened. It so never happened. Nopony must know. We just travel to the nearest port, get food, do whatever Jeffrey needs us to do, and return home. And no talks of it." She eyed the mares sternly. "Any questions?"

Vinyl raised her hoof.

Octavia groaned. "Yes, Vinyl?"

"Tavi, where would you find a rusty spear?"

***

"That hurt."

Lyra took a deep breath. Fresh breeze coming from the sea invigorated her and cured her hangover. The sea was definitely the best cure: the salty licks of water gifting air with their angry emanation, the air of confidence, strict, unyielding, fortunate. The air of future and success.  The air of adventure. And, though it may be reeking of rot and bird shit, it was deinitely her kind of air. "I know, Vinyl. You've told me a few times already."

Vinyl rubbed her cheek. "I know. But that, like, really hurt." She paused. "Totes."

Lyra cast a glare at the white mare. "This word is officially prohibited on this ship from now on."

"Pirates."

Lyra nodded. "Exactly. We are pirates now, and we cannot-"

"No, I mean there." Vinyl pointed a hoof in the direction of a huge ship approaching their sailboat at top speed. "These are pirates."

On top of the mast fluttered a black flag.

7. In Which Real Pirates Actually Appear and Shit Prepares to Get Real

A Sailboat, Two Mares and a Crate Full of Rum

Chapter Seven

In Which Real Pirates Actually Appear and Shit Prepares to Get Real

***

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

Lyra cast a sharp glare at the intruder, standing in a plain linear formation next to a very trembling Bon-Bon, a very angry Vinyl, and a very unamused Octavia.

The captain of the offending ship - a great deal bigger than the little sailboat - marched back and forth on the small free spot of the boat, with his crew watching intently from the huge pirate ship. His beard was black as Marexico-spilt oil, his pirate cap a finest reddish-brown. All the cool captains have beards, Vinyl mused. That's why I'm not a captain yet. Her eyes lingered on a very unbearded Lyra. Or not. Besides, it was not really a question of a physical beard - or was it? It is the inner beard that makes you a captain, Vinyl realised. It's how you perceive the beard. Wow, that's what an epiphany must feel like.

"I am the captain of this ship," Lyra replied defiantly. "And this here is my crew." She pointed at Octavia. "The cook." At Bon-Bon. "Captain's wife." At Vinyl. "The Lieutenant."

"Marvellous," the intruding captain rubbed his hooves. "And what shall I call you?"

"Octavia Philarmonica, without the H in the middle," the cellist was the first to reply, followed by a little indignant huff.

"Vinyl," the DJ said simply, extending her hoof, but, seeing as nopony was going to shake it, lowered it, her face heating up with embarrassment. Damn it, doesn't he know how embarrassing it is, when you stand like an idiot and nopony's shaking your hoof? That was even more embarrassing than that one time when she and Octavia- Drank tea! Just. Drank. Tea, Vinyl repeated mentally, just in case there were some mind-reading aliens observing her. I'll need to invest in a tin-foiled cap.

"Bon-Bon," the captain's wife whispered. Somehow, she was getting more and more shy every minute. Probably the effect of the foursome, Vinyl concluded wisely.

"Captain Lyra," Lyra said. "With a capital C."

The pirate stopped. "Captain Yore Ars."

"That's... not very polite," Bon-Bon whispered, while Lyra fumed with anger.

"No, 'captain' your arse! You came to our ship and now you're-"

In a swift motion, the captain took out his sabre and pointed it at the mint mare. "It's my name, missy. And you will respect it." What kind of parents would call their foal 'Yore Ars'? Vinyl wondered to herself. They must be complete... arses. Eh. "Also, I'm not 'coming' to your ship. I'm claiming your ship."

"Dude, why would you need this old useless sailboat?" Vinyl blurted out. Catching Lyra's infuriated glare, she shrugged. "What? That's true. Totes."

"This word is-" Lyra began, but Captain Yore Ars interrupted her harshly.

"I have a soft spot for old, useless sailboats."

Lyra gritted her teeth. "Whatever! We will fight for this boat! Bring it on!"

Bon-Bon shivered. No, we won't. I won't. I will run and hide. She cursed herself for such meekness, but... Lyra had been responsible, for such a change in her. Partially. Bon-Bon rubbed her belly. Even if she doesn't know.

Octavia braced herself for battle, her skilful eyes already deciphering where she would land her steady hoof-blows.

Vinyl took a step forth, followed by Lyra. I wish we had sabres. I'm not as good at hoof-combat as Tavi... I should have picked a few lessons from her instead of licki- DRINKING TEA.

Captain Yore Ars lifted a brow. "You? You four are going to fight me and my crew. You are four unarmed mares, and we-"

"Dude, that's sexist," Vinyl interrupted, battle anger giving way to disapproval. "Just because we're mares doesn't mean we can't kick your... arse. Sorry," she winced at her sour phrasing. I hope there hasn't been no double negations there or something. Wait a minute...

"No!" the pirate captain barked. "I made an emphasis on 'unarmed', not 'mares'!" For a moment, he pondered under four disapproving stares. "Wait, why am I even discussing this with you?"

The stallion turned towards his pirates. "Chaaaaarge!"

8. In Which Shit Finally Gets Real

A Sailboat, Two Mares and a Crate Full of Rum

Chapter Eight

In Which Shit Finally Gets Real

***

"Chaaaaarge!" Lyra echoed Captain Yore's (she decided that she would call him that to avoid controversy) command, pointing her hoof towards the herd of pirates that were running towards them across the wooden planks cast aboard the sailboat and joined with the pirate ship.

Only then did she realise that they were four unarmed mares and the crew was a few dozen gruff, sabre-armed stallions. And no anti-sexism measures could remedy the situation. Unless the pirates had a guilty conscience. Taking a brief look at their mad grins and invigorated yells, Lyra concluded that no, the pirates did not have a guilty conscience. If they had any conscience at all. Well, rum-hazed conscience is still conscience.

Lyra braced herself for the impact, her horn pointing forth like a spear. Aside, Octavia took a battle stance, her hooves ready to collide with the intruders. Vinyl lowered her horn, her shades covering her ears... chewing bubblegum? I don't wanna know, Lyra concluded.

Bon-Bon - on whom Lyra relied for hoof-combat support - yelped and ran away, vanishing inside quickly. Lyra stared at disbelief at the place her wife had just been. She... betrayed me! Why?

Meanwhile, Octavia served the first double-blow, punching two pirates simultaneously, with such force that it sent both stallions tumbling, only to fall in the deep waters of the sea. Some lucky shark would be getting a very tasty, if not healthy, dinner.

Two pirates ran, hollering, towards Lyra, the mint mare taking a step back. She could take out one of them. Their sabres were sharp; but her horn was sharper. At least, she hoped so. But then the other one...

"Lyra, catch!"

Bon-Bon's voice brought Lyra back to Equestria as she instinctively grabbed in her telekinetic grip the object her wife had thrown at her. A sword! A sabre! Lyra cast a glance at it. ...A broomstick. Still, there was no time to think! With some effort, the mighty broom crushed the pirates like a fine baseball bat, sending them over to the deep blue sea. The lucky shark, it seemed, would get only luckier.

Vinyl worked her own broomstick, courtesy of Bon-Bon, fighting three pirates at once. This is the point where Jeffrey arrives and saves us. Evading a sabre blow, she cast a look around. Dammit. There was no Jeffrey. But there was Bon-Bon. Just cowering in the corner and not fighting. "Hey, Bon-Bon!" Vinyl yelled. "Lend a hoof, will ya?"

Bon-Bon shut her eyes. I can't. Not now. It's too dangerous for her. "I... I can't!"

Vinyl groaned, slamming her broomstick against a pirate's head. Two more joined the battle. Damn. Bon-Bon must be a pacifist. Stupid pacifists with their stupid recycling. Wait a minute...

"Yaarrr-hahaharrr!"

Vinyl shrieked in terror as, with a slash of the pirate's sabre, a cone of her beautifully-gelled mane fell to the wood of the floor. Letting out a primeval roar, the DJ slammed the broomstick against the pirate, sending him to feed the fish. The lucky shark was probably inviting family to dinner now.

I... I may die, Vinyl realised suddenly, as she took a few steps back, fighting two pirates at once. While the matters of life and death did not concern her, she didn't really want to die. Living is so way better. Then, the DJ made a decision. Turning to Octavia, she yelled, "Tavi! Will you marry me?"

"What?!" Octavia replied, planting a firm hoof into a pirate's face.

"I said, Will you marry me, Tavi?" Vinyl reiterated, smashing another pirate with a broom. The sharks must be worshipping me as Foodgiver. "Right here, right now!"

"But same-sex marriage-" Octavia bucked another pirate. "Isn't legal in Equestria!"

"It is!" Vinyl lunged at one of the pirates. "Has been for a while. Lyra and Bon-Bon are married already!" A smash followed. "I just lied to you so that we could stay civil partners and I could ditch responsibility!"

"WHAT?!" the cellist roared, smashing two pirates together and throwing them over board. "All this time?! I will kill you, Vinyl Scratch!"

Vinyl winced as she cracked her broom against a pirate's spine, now levitating two halves of it. "Thing is, there are pirates keen on killing us already! So, I want you to marry me!" She threw one of the pieces against an approaching pirate. "If we die today, I want to die married to you!'

Ah, dammit! Octavia took a sharp step back, letting two attackers collide in mid-air. "I will! Dammit, I will marry you, Vinyl Scratch!"

"Yay!" Vinyl turned quickly towards Lyra, who was fighting Captain Yore Ars. "Lyra, as the captain, you can wed us! Do it right now!"

Lyra grunted, her broom screeching at the impact. "I'm kinda busy!"

"Do it!" Octavia supported her mare, grabbing a pirate by the waist and tossing him against an approaching horde like a bowling ball.

"Fine!" Lyra smashed the pirate captain across the face, winning herself some time. "By the power vested in me by the Pirate Codex-" She smashed a stray pirate from the crew with a broom. "I hereby pronounce you mare and wife!" The mint mare slammed the broom against Captain Yore once more. "Now, you can kiss and clean my ship from this scum!"

And so they did.

***

"I will never ever hijack sailboats again."

Lyra nodded. "Good. One more time."

"I will never ever hijack sailboats again."

Lyra grinned, looking at a very miserable and tied Yore Ars. "You are no longer a captain of that ship." She pondered for a moment. "If only because your crew is feeding the sharks now." The mint mare could swear she saw a shark show up out of the water, giving her a quick fin-up before diving back. "So, we graciously allow you to take this sailboat while we take your ship." The mare looked at the ex-captain victoriously. "Because you have a soft spot for 'old, useless sailboats'."

Yore Ars just glared at the mare but said nothing. Lyra turned towards her wife. "Now, about you. What's the matter, Bonnie?" Lyra frowned. "Why didn't you fight? What has happened to you? I appreciate the brooms and what-not but..." The mint mare sighed, seeing tears in her wife's eyes. "Look, Bonnie, I don't know what's been happening to you for the past month. You... have changed. Behaviour-wise."

"Of course I have changed, you idiot!" Bon-Bon stood up, showing off her pretty-grown belly. "I'm pregnant!"

Lyra hit the wooden floor with a soft, thick thud.

9. You Can't Spell Shipping Without Rum

A Sailboat, Two Mares and a Crate Full of Rum

Chapter Nine

You Can't Spell Shipping Without Rum

***

"Lyraaaa."

Lyra woke up, her eyelids still closed. As she remembered why exactly she had fainted, she realised she didn't want to open her eyes. Ever.

"Maybe I should hit her?"  Vinyl's voice suggested from above. "With a stick?"

Lyra opened her eyes and sat up in what turned out to be a very decent single bed. "Don't." She took a glance about the room she found herself in, with all the needed furniture neatly arranged about her: a solid redwood desk with a fine marble polish, maps scattered all over it; a bookcase filled with old, dusty tomes that seemed like they had never been read (Lyra assumed that they had not even been touched); the bed itself; and a hammock in the corner, meant to guest one pony. For now, it was guesting Bon-Bon, who snoozed peacefully, while Vinyl and Octavia stood guard over the mint mare, deciding her imminent future.

"How long have I been out?" Lyra wondered with a good yawn. She immediately cast a glance at her wife. Bon-Bon was, thanfully, fast asleep.

"Enough for us to drag you to the new ship." Vinyl grinned. "I like ships. Shipping is fun."

Octavia smacked her newly-wed wife. "Vinyl, shipping is not about ships." What I have to put up with...

Vinyl rubbed the sore spot. "That's what they want you to believe." Government shipping conspiracies. "I'll tell you all about shipping," Vinyl promised, patting Octavia on the shoulder. "When you're older."

"Vinyl, I'm older than you," the cellist observed.

"Well, I'm smarter," Vinyl countered.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"No."

"I know Maths. And stuff." A winning argument, Vinyl.

"My wife's pregnant," Lyra said dumbly, staring at the wall. "How can a mare get a mare pregnant?"

Vinyl stopped her arguing, tapping her horn. "Magic."

Octavia huffed. "That's your answer to everything."

Vinyl nodded. "That's because it is. We're, you know?, magical." The DJ tapped her horn again for good measure. "Unicorn master race."

"My wife is pregnant," Lyra repeated. "I'm going to be a mother."

Neither Octavia nor Vinyl seemed to care, however, as they argued in such a heated manner that it was only obvious the argument would soon grow into an especially kinky form of angry sex. The two mares already neared each other, standing dangerously close.

Bon-Bon yawned and rolled over, landing on the floor with a thump. Lyra shrieked and ran towards her wife, elbowing Vinyl and Octavia aside. "Bonnie!" she yelled at the still sleepy mare. "How are you? Are you hurt? How's the foal?!"

Bon-Bon blinked with a yawn. "I'm all right... Lyra!" The cream-coloured mare shot up at once. "You fainted and-"

"Shh." Lyra pressed her hoof against her wife's lips. "It's all right. I'm just so happy about the foal. I'll protect you, and it, from whatever may come."

Bon-Bon wrapped her mare in an embrace, teary-eyed. Vinyl let out a soft 'aww'. "Tavi." She nudged her wife. "It's so cute! We should totally make babies. Come on." Vinyl took Octavia by the hoof, dragging her outside. "Let's go make some babies."

Just as they stepped outside, Vinyl let out a sigh. Octavia stared at her wife intently. "Vinyl..." she said cautiously. "When you said 'let's go make some babies', you just meant sex, or..."

"Just sex." Vinyl grinned. "What?" She shrugged. "I hate foals. I don't want to have one. If I could have a grown-up daughter at once, that'd be cool, but foals..." She paused. "I have a five per cent discount at Horn Condoms & Stuff."

Octavia raised her brow. "Really?"

Vinyl nodded. "Really. Can't risk having a foal with you when we're being kinky."

Octavia kissed the white cheek. "That's sweet."

"After all," Vinyl smirked, "I'm their sponsor."

"Oh." Octavia pondered for a moment. "So that's where all the money's been going off to."

"Yes." Vinyl nodded.

"I'm glad you don't want a foal," Octavia said. "I'm actually a member of Composers Against Foals foundation," she confessed.

"Really?!" Vinyl jumped in place. "Me too!"

And so, on the empty deck of their newly-acquired ship, the two mares did the CAF secret hoofshake, under the rays of the smiling sun.

10. Suddenly, the Journey Continues

A Sailboat, Two Mares and a Crate Full of Rum

Chapter Ten

Suddenly, the Journey Continues

***

“Don’t you ever have this feeling of determination?”

Vinyl concentrated very hard on her cards, still trying to understand the rules of the game. So, apparently, she had to score a twenty-one, but a twenty-two was too much. If she had a twenty on her hooves, that was a sure win. And if she had twenty and an ace, that was twenty-one and an absolute win for sure.

Vinyl Scratch had thirty-six.

“Or,” Lyra continued, checking her captain’s hat, as if to make sure it wasn’t going to ditch her for some more insightful and responsible captain, “rather, this feeling that it’s been a while, but it’s time to continue what you started?”

Vinyl Scratch had thirty-six, and she was greatly displeased with this fact.

“Or,” Lyra took another card, “the feeling that our journey hasn’t ended yet and we have a lot more in store for us before we can deliver the package?”

Vinyl Scratch had thirty-six, and, no matter how hard she had thought on it, there was no way for her to make the count any less. Finally, she gave up and threw the cards on the barrel with a sigh. “Don’t you ever have this feeling of breaking the fourth wall?” she lamented, watching Lyra collect the bits gleefully. “Besides, isn’t gambling actually banned in Equestria and limited to Las Pegas?”

“We aren’t under Equestrian jurisdiction,” Octavia shouted out from the kitchen, where she and Bon-Bon had finally found the peace they needed. Bon-Bon was assisting Octavia with the food, and Octavia was the chef, or, rather, the cook. But she sure saw herself as a chef at a three-star restaurant.

“Really?” Vinyl blinked obliviously, wondering if, during the couple days they’d been sailing this new ship, they had moved far. “Where are we.”

“The map says we’re moving past native islands.” Lyra collected the cards and placed them in the little wooden chest. I want that chest, Vinyl thought. I want it so much. This made the white unicorn question whether she would actually kill Lyra in order to- Nah. That’s just silly. Vinyl chuckled innerly, then grew serious. Well, if the chest was purple…

“So, like, good-natured native Equestrians?” Vinyl asked with a fake yawn that hid her lust for adventure. Poorly. “Reservations and all that stuff?”

“More like pony-eating cannibal natives,” Lyra replied with a grin. Without any further words, the captain and her lieutenant threw their hooves in the air and slammed them with a grin. Such was the power of the high-hoof that it brought Octavia and Bon-Bon out of the kitchen.

Mares should be in the kitchen! a fedora-wearing little pony in Vinyl’s head complained. Damn right, brother! another little neckbeard pony in Vinyl’s head agreed. Vinyl blinked at the abundance of the little ponies in her head.

“But all we have to do is to avoid nearing the island.” Octavia pushed together two barrels, all the while balancing the plates on her extended hoof. So stretchy, Vinyl mused, licking her lips. Kinky when she does the stretch in bed, but oh so painful when she hits me. “And we’ll be just fine.”

“Yes…” Lyra smiled sourly, eyeing Bon-Bon’s bulging belly as the captain’s wife walked out of the kitchen, holding two more plates. She turned towards Vinyl, who had already dropped into one of her philosophic moods, now musing upon why they didn’t have a table but instead a whole lot of wooden barrels. “Just fine…”

***

“Juuuuust a little.”

The shadowy figure crawled towards the mast, across the silent wood of the floor. The graceful, elastic ninja pony called Vinyl “Silent Hooves” Scratch, who right now had one mission at hoof, a mission that was by no means blurred in her mind, even despite the rum that she’d consumed some half an hour ago.

“Juuuust a tiny bit more.”

Out of the corner of her eye, the ninja pony saw the light flicker on in one of the cabins of the new sailing boat - no, a huge, glorious ship. Which we stole. Which makes us real pirates! Vinyl grinned. A little pony in her head facehoofed. Then again, we stole it from a pirate. Does that make us vigilantes?

“Okay, just a teeny weeny bit!”

Fearing the light - and wondering how in Equestria they had electricity on the ship and no running water - Vinyl stood on her back hooves, and, defying all the comprehensible laws of physics, tiptoed towards the mast.

Wrapping her hooves around it, she grinned widely. There she was, on her way to adventure. All she needed to do was cut the sail somehow so that they had to stop at the native islands and have some fun. I mean, I’m not the villain here, right? Vinyl mentally ran through all the things she’d done and immediately concluded that no, she was definitely no villain of the piece. At least, not this time. Sorry, hedgehog, she addressed her old-time friend who she’d mercilessly launched from a toaster. You were a good friend. Probably.

“Vinyl, can you tell me what exactly you are doing here?”

The ninja pony yelped and fell down on her butt. “Mercy, I demand Drunken Mercy!”

Octavia sighed and leant in to help her marefriend - wife! a little pony in her head squeed happily - get up from the floor. “What were you doing near the mast, at night, all alone?”

“Uh, nothing?” Vinyl lied, remembering how her then-marefriend-now-wife had allowed her to lie back then on Titaneigh, during their previous adventure. Tavi, so powerful as to overturn a court ruling!

“Let me tell you what you’ve been doing.” Octavia sighed and rubbed her forehead with a hoof. “You want to meddle with the ship somehow so that we have to stop by island, filled with dangerous, cannibalistic ponies. This is what you’re doing.”

“I may not need to.”

Octavia looked up and gasped, while Vinyl grinned as wide as she could.

Off in the distance, a fierce wind howled, and far, far away, lightning illuminated tall, majestic tornadoes. Octavia yelled and ran away screaming to Lyra’s cabin, while Vinyl just grinned and raised her hoof:

“When you get dat storm just right.”

11. Staying Alive

Octavia woke up with a terrible sense of deja vu. She found herself on an island, next to Vinyl, with a terrible headache…

For a moment, the grey mare’s mind froze as she had this crazy idea that all that had happened during the past year or so had been her imagination, and she was still stuck with Vinyl on the bloody island.

However, seeing Lyra and Bon-Bon snoozing next to them on the sand, the cellist-turned-chef immediately felt relieved. With a groan, she got up and tried to wake up her marefri- wife. A giddy feeling surfaced in her chest as she realised, once again, that she was married to the love of her life.

Even if the love of her life was apparently committing adultery in her dreams.

“Mmm, Tavi will never know,” Vinyl mumbled, rolling over on the sand. “Lezz do it.”

“Tavi will never know what?” Octavia enquired, shaking her wife diligently.

Vinyl’s eyes shot wide open. “Hi, Tavi. Uh.” The white mare’s eyes drifted up and down Octavia’s body. “Tavi will never know I’ve been using her shampoo?” Ha! the DJ congratulated herself innerly. Nice save. After all, she’d been dreaming about-

“You’ve been using my shampoo?” the cellist advanced on her wife - and not in an entirely pleasant manner.

“I’ve been using your shampoo too,” came Lyra’s voice from the behind.

Octavia turned round, only to see the captain’s… No, the Captain’s grinning face. “You too, brute?” she joked, then realised immediately that, much like the musical jokes she had tried in the past, this one would fall flat on the audience.

“Your shampoo is like that cheap mare from Star Whores,” Lyra confirmed with a nod. “Everypony uses it from time to time.”

Vinyl blinked as she got up, not without Octavia’s help, and shook off the sand, still remaining as dirty as ever. “Is it porn? I thought it was called Star Horse, and was about equine anatomy of the intergalactic ponies.”

Octavia didn’t even wonder where Vinyl had learned the word “intergalactic” from. Instead, she closed her eyes, memory flushing back to her.

“Steer the sail!”

Lyra’s voice was drowned out by the sound of the impending doom as the captain tried to rush to the mast.

“Technically-” Octavia shouted back, holding Vinyl close while the white mare squeed in glee. “You steer the boat-” She threw the ecstatic pony off her. “Not the sail!”

“Technically-” Lyra retorted in a loud yell. “Steer the bloody sail!”

Octavia sighed. Okay. Apparently it didn’t go that well. She was brought out of her reverie by Vinyl patting her shoulder and pointing with a grin at Lyra and Bon-Bon, who were sitting aside, with Lyra gently stroking Bon-Bon’s belly. “Aww,” Octavia said loudly. “How cute!” To Vinyl, she whispered, “If you ever get me pregnant, my foal will only have one mother. Because the other one will be dead.”

Surely, Vinyl had other things to say, including, but not limited to, them using horn condoms, as well as her general inability to raise a plant, much less a foal, as well as pointing out that she, Vinyl, was much of a foal herself - but a loud noise coming from the jungle made her freeze and look in that direction.

Everypony followed her gaze, and, indeed, there was something to marvel at. Several dozen ponies, with tattoos covering their muzzles and bodies, and all but one having spears in their mouth. How unhygienic! Octavia lamented in her mind. Also, she concluded that the pony with the most ridiculous tattoo (What is that? A butt? A dick? A buttdick?) and without a spear was the chief.

“I got this, ladies.” Vinyl took a bold step forth, stopping before the apparent chief of the tribals. The savage ponies lowered their spears threateningly. Vinyl patted her chest. “Me. Vinyl Scratch. DJ.” She made a motion of spinning a disk with her hooves. “Wub wub wub.” Then she pointed at Octavia. “My wife, Octavia. I rut her. R-U-T.” Thankfully, no gesture followed. “Very much.” The white hoof switched over to Lyra. “Our captain. Lyra.” Vinyl tapped her head with a hoof. “Very stupid.”

“Hey!” came Lyra’s disapproving yell.

“Don’t ruin my diplomacy!” Vinyl retorted, then pointed at Bon-Bon. “Captain’s wife. Very nice. We.” The DJ slowly moved her hoof around. “Peace. We want peace. And food. And rum. But mostly peace. No war. No fight.” Vinyl shook her head. “No punch-punch-punch. Better, smooch-smooch-smooch.”

Finally, the chieftain blinked and looked at Bon-Bon, who, apparently, to him seemed like the sanest pony of the bunch. “She does realise we all speak modern Equestrian, right?”