Look, let me be perfectly clear here; I am a very tolerant mare.

I just wanted you to know that, right from the start. And it’s true. But then again, I am a DJ, so, y’know, it kinda comes with the territory. You gotta be prepared to deal with all the bullshit. I mean, I go up there night after night, blast some awesome tunes, spread the wubbage through the club, and make sure everypony has an amazing time. And, for the most part, everypony does. But for every fan, you gotta deal with a hater. And my haters just love to make sure they tell me every single aspect of every single reason why they think I’m absolute scum.

All because they don’t like Dubstep. I mean, jeez, it’s not like I force them to listen to it.

My mom says that us Scratch girls are made of tough stuff. Lucky for me, huh? My marefriend, Octavia, she always asks me how I put up with it. And the truth is, as I said, I’m a very, very, very tolerant mare. It takes a lot to get under my skin. In fact, the last time she asked me, the very words I replied to her with were: 'Octy, I ain’t one to let anything piss me off.'

Famous. Last. Words.

So, let me just paint the picture for ya. It’s Tuesday evening, and I get a call from the manager at Club Zero, one of my regular spots, asking me to do a last minute set. Now, I was gonna say no, cause Tuesday night crowds aren’t exactly my scene, but then Octy decided that I should, seein’ as we didn’t have plans for the night. I’m not one for all the smoochy woochy romantic stuff, but I was happy enough cuddled up with her on the couch, and I was about to say no.

But then she insisted.

Ugh.

I don’t know how she does it, but I can’t seem to say no to her. I swear to Luna that the fancy Dappleshire boarding school she went to as a filly must have taught her some kind of mind control power. I mean seriously, how else would an Earth Pony have magic power over a Unicorn in a relationship?! I gotta look into that at some point. Maybe there’s a book in the Library I can find about Earth Pony magic? Oh jeez, now I know I’m getting desperate.

But back to the scene, we decided to make it a night out, seeing as we had a few hours to kill before I was needed to perform. So we headed out, and luckily Tuesday nights are quiet, so we barely had to queue to get in anywhere. So, the night started off alright, we went from club to club, getting steadily more and more wasted as we went. Now, don’t let Octy fool you by how she looks, ‘cause when she hits the town, she really knows how to party. And she holds her drink surprisingly well, but, by the time we arrived at Club Zero for my set, we were pretty messed up.

Well, one of us was.

I’m still a decent DJ when I’ve had something to drink, but it all depends on the day. Weekday sets, which I rarely do, have small crowds of the most dedicated ravers who’ll go out, get wasted, and dance to anything and everything that’s played to them. In these cases, I can afford to drink a bit, but I gotta be able to actually perform decently on the turntables, otherwise I lose a client. Weekends are when the real parties are, and I go up sober. I can get wasted afterwards, but keeping the party going? That’s my main concern.

So we turn up for my set, and Octy barely knows what the date is, but I get us both a scotch from the bar. Just one more for luck, I know my limits. We toast to an about-to-be-awesome set and I head to the decks, and the last thing I hear from her is her loudly demanding another scotch from the stallion at the bar, after which her voice is drowned out by the music. ‘She’ll be okay’, I tell myself.

Once again. Famous. Last. Words.

So now we arrive at the present. The set went… well, let’s just say that it didn’t go at all like I hoped, and we’ll end that discussion there. At this point, it’s just gone two in the morning, and I’m walking home, very tipsy myself, but sober enough to carry my marefriend home. Yes, that’s right. Carry. I’m a tolerant mare. But right now, I was drunk, tired, frustrated, and carrying my marefriend home on my back. And I was very pissed off.

“Where are we gooooooing, Vinyl?” Octavia asked me as I staggered towards the door, her singing the word ‘going’ for no apparent reason.

“Home, Octy,”

“You fuckin’ what? C’mon, I still *hic* wanna party.”

“You’ve had way too much to drink already,” I replied through clenched teeth.

You know in films where they jump cut to the drunk person sat at the bar surrounded by hundreds of empty glasses? Yeah, that’s what just happened. Well, not exactly hundreds of glasses, but during my set, Octavia had downed seven scotches. And now she’s sprawled out on my back, and I’m trying hard not to breathe through my nose, for one simple reason.

Her. Breath. Stinks.

“I know my limits!” she yelled out, slurring each word brutally.

The bouncer shoots me a sympathetic look as he holds the door open for me. I would have thanked him, he’s a nice enough guy and we’ve talked plenty of times before, but I had bigger problems at that moment. Much bigger problems.

“Yeah, you do know your limits,” I said finally, when we’re out of earshot of everypony stood smoking outside the club. “Problem is, you don’t know when you’ve overstepped them."

“Oh yeah, let’s *hic* ask this mare if she thinks the same. Hey miss? MIIIIIIISSSS?”

“That’s not a ‘Miss’, Octy.”

“Then what *hic* izzit?”

“It’s a garbage can.”

She explodes with laughter as I round the corner off of Melody Boulevard. Home is just a five minute walk from the Club, but that’s without a full grown mare on my back. At this point, I’m still kinda drunk myself, and the muscles in my leg are beginning to burn like tartaurus.

“We should… should totally… like… get *hic* a dog… Vinyl,” she gasped through breathlessness after her giggling fit. Here is further proof as to how wasted she is: she is allergic to dogs. But, for whatever reason, I decided to humor her.

“Should we?”

Big mistake.

“Yeahyeahyeah, we totally fuckin’ should,” she said, once again singing one of the words for no apparent reason. “And we can *hic* name it Syndrome!”

Now, I gotta admit, she had me confused here. Even with hindsight, there was no way I coulda guessed what was coming. Just to hear her swearing is unusual. The first time we got wasted together, hearing her swear in that stuck up Trottingham accent had me collapsing with laughter. I thought there was nothing that could top it, but she has a weird habit of surprising me.

“So… so if it… wait, what was we gonna call it?”

Ugh. Drunks.

Okay, I’m a hypocrite. Sue me.

“Syndrome,” I reply, my back starting to ache under her weight.

“Oh right, yeahyeahyeah.”

If you’re easily offended, feel free to cover your ears for this part. I wish I had, but my hooves were occupied at the time.

“So if it jumps up… we can *hic* shout… ‘Down Syndrome!’ and it’d be okay.”

My eyes widened in shock, and I quickly look all around to see if there was anypony nearby who may have heard her, and luckily, there wasn’t. Granted, Octavia becomes a completely different pony when she drinks, but I never had her pegged for the ‘extremely offensive joke’ type. And, granted, in any other situation, I probably would have laughed along with her. But, at this point, her gruff laughter was suddenly replaced by a retching noise and a warm but wet feeling running down my back.

Oh, what a fun night this had turned out to be.

“Nice, Octy,” I replied as I spotted the sign pointing out our street, with a lot of relief if I gotta be honest. My nose wrinkled up as I tried to ignore the smell of her vomit, which was now trickling down the side of my chest and slowly dripping onto the ground. “About as mature as a prepubescent colt.”

“I used to *hic* be one, you know,” she slurred.

Huh?

“Be a what?”

“A colt.”

I gave a small chuckle. She’s definitely had too much to drink.

“No, seriously,” she insisted. “I had a sex change when I was *hic* seven.”

The smirk on my face disappears. She can’t be serious, can she? She’s gotta be joking. She literally just told one of the most offensive jokes I’ve heard in a long time, she’s probably just playing another.

But… I poked a little deeper.

“Why’s that then?”

She thinks for a while. “I guess… I guess I wasn’t ever *hic* happy being a boy,” she says in a voice that’s barely louder than a moan. “Even when I was young, I *hic* always preferred playing with dolls and stuff, and I hated *hic* hoofball and all that boyish stuff.”

She sounds serious. She’s drunk, yes, but she really does sound like she’s telling the truth. I know her, and she literally can’t tell a convincing lie. Not if the fate of all of Equestria depended on it.

“So, my parents *hic* agreed to let me have the operation to become a filly, and they sent me *hic* to an all-girls boarding school in Dappleshire. They wanted to stay in our *hic* old family home, but they were kinda secretive about the whole thing…”

She drifted off towards the end of that, and by the time I spotted our house, she was snoring away peacefully, without a care in the world. At this point, I’m still in shock really. Of course, every instinct in my body is telling me to laugh it off as a joke, pretend she never said it. I did still kinda hope she was joking too. In the state she was in, she’d never remember telling me about it. But as I approached our front door, and stepped through into our living room, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t something I could ignore. If she was being serious, and telling the truth, then there was no way I could forget about this. Not with her. I care about her too much.

Damn, I sound corny. But… I do.

I love her.

I lowered her gently onto our couch, and made sure she was laid out in a comfortable position. There’d be all hell to pay in the morning for all those scotches, but for now, I figured she should be as snug as possible. After a quick ten second shower, just to get all the vomit off my back, I wrapped myself up in a towel and went upstairs to our bedroom, to get the duvet from our bed to tuck her up in.

It was in there that I stopped, remembering something. The photo album of her when she was younger, it was sat right there on the bookshelf. I had my doubts, of course, that she was telling the truth. But I figured if there was any way of getting a definite answer, it would be in those pages. So, I folded up the duvet, put the album on top, and carried the bundle downstairs.

Tavi had barely budged from her spot when I got back, so I draped the duvet over her, tucking it in under her to keep her nice and warm. I moved in to adjust her head position, but she chose that exact moment to let out a small belch, and I ended up with a faceful of her rancid breath.

I didn’t throw up, I promise. But I came pretty damn close.

Now, it did take me a while to recover from that. I’ve seen my share of gross stuff (believe me, I did some crazy stuff at college), but this was just something else entirely. Once I finally did shake the feelings of queasiness, I ignited my horn and lit the fireplace in the corner, illuminating the room in a soft orange glow.

Being a Unicorn has its advantages from time to time.

Octavia didn’t seem to like the light shining in her face, so she rolled over and faced away from it. As she did, my eye turned to the photo album. I levitated it, and walked over to my chair, and as I settled down into its deep plush cushion, I placed the album on my lap.

And… for a few minutes, I just stare at the cover. We’ve had this thing in our house for ages. Sure, we only became an ‘official’ couple a few months ago, but come August, we’ll have been sharing a house for six years. And for all of that time, I’ve never given this thing a second thought. Sure, she’s brought it out plenty of times, and I know what she looked like when she was younger, but…

Then it hits me.

I almost can’t believe it, but I immediately open the book. The baby photos last for several pages; each one with a small note attached, written in neat hoofwriting. I look closely at each one, and… there’s smudges. Really faded smudges, ones that are hard to spot if you’re not looking for them. Right where her name is. As if an old name had been rubbed out, and a new one written above it.

This goes for all the baby photos, and in each and every one of them, she is wearing a diaper.

No nude photos at all.

All right, that sounds kinda weird, but in every baby album I’ve ever been shown, there is always at least one naked photo. It's like some crazy unwritten rule of being a parent, to have embarrassing baby photos. When I was in college, I had a string of stallions that I dated, and, of course, there were summer breaks where I went to visit them at their respective family's house. Their mom’s always got out the albums, and there were the naked pictures. Every time. Dammit, even my Mom does it. Me and Octy went to see her and my Dad when we got together, and guess what? Out came the baby photos. And guess what again? Naked photos.

It’s like every parent actively wants to embarrass their child. Its one part of parenthood that I’ve never understood.

So why aren’t Octavia’s pictures the same?

She looks cute as a baby. I’ll be honest here, and say that I think she looks cute now. But as well as looking cute as a baby, she also looks… gender neutral. Just looking at her as a baby, I can’t tell if she’s a boy or a girl. The only thing that would give an answer is… well, covered by her diaper.

Then I turn the page.

And there she is. Seven years old, getting on the train to head off to boarding school. No photos in-between this one and the ones of her when she was just a few days old.

I lean back in my chair, not entirely sure what to think, or how to feel. I mean, the evidence is right there in front of me. The photos are sorted chronologically, so there’s no chance of progressing further into the album to find the missing photos.

Should I feel betrayed that she never told me? No. In fact, I can’t say I blame her. I mean, it’s nothing she should be scared of talking about, but I can kinda understand why it would be a touchy subject for her. Then I kinda start to feel guilty. How did I never notice this before? Six years, nearly, we’ve lived in this house, and I’m only now noticing this huge gap in her childhood photos? She got the album out plenty of times, so it’s not like there weren’t any chances to notice it.

But then, it really starts to hit me. I feel scared. Very scared. I do love her. I love her so much, and I thought she felt the same about me. So why did she never tell me about this before? Maybe she doesn’t love me as much as she says she does. I mean, why else wouldn’t she tell me?

Maybe she’s scared. Scared of what I might think. Maybe she’s scared I might not love her any more if she told me the truth about her past. But that’s ridiculous; she knows how much she means to me. When I’m with her, I get this warmth, this tingle I never feel with anypony else. I dated a lot of stallions in college, but over the last few years, when I really started to explore my sexuality, I just found a new happiness I’d never felt until I was with her. She must know that. Right?

Okay, maybe I’m a bit shy about my sexuality when it’s me and her around other people. Yeah, I said we’ve only been an ‘official’ couple for about six months, but we’ve been together much longer than that. I always say six months, but realistically? Oh, jeez. It’d have to be closer to two years. Fuck, how can she put up with a marefriend like me?

Okay, maybe it took me a while to openly admit that I’m gay. But she’s got much more reason to be afraid than me. The things she’s been through. Jeez, maybe she thinks I’m ashamed of being her marefriend? That might explain why she shied away from this subject for so long. If she thought I didn’t love her as much as I really do, that might explain… quite a lot actually.

Thinking about it, I mean really stopping to think about it, my mind comes up with a lot of times I’ve been really shitty to her because I’ve been more concerned with my public image. When I actually came out, I got a lot of support from my fans, and Octy seemed to be really relieved. At the time I thought she was happy because we could openly say we were a couple, but thinking more realistically, she was probably just happy because I wouldn’t have to pretend any more that she didn’t mean as much to me as she really does.

She belched loudly again, snapping me out of my train of thought. I looked over to her, curled up in her duvet, smelling of booze and vomit and likely to have the mother of all hangovers when she wakes up in the morning. And I realized I don’t care about any of that. I’ve been a terrible marefriend up to this point, when she’s been nothing but supportive of me. I stood up and walked over to her, giving her a long and tender kiss on the cheek. She gives what sounds like a contented groan, but other than that she barely stirs.

Tonight’s given me a lot to think about. Earlier I was mad that I had to carry her home, but now I’m just glad that she’s a part of my life. She’s put up with so much crap from me, and it ends now. She means the absolute world to me, and it’s about damn time I started to show it. Sure, her past is troubled, and I’ll have to talk to her about it some time in the future, but that’s another story.

I love her, and even if it takes the rest of my life, I’m going to make sure she knows it.

Author's Notes:

For the character and personality of Vinyl in this story, I drew inspiration from Ramona Flowers from the Scott Pilgrim comic books. She is a character that, to truly understand, you need to have actually read the comics rather than watched the film. On the surface is a ‘tough-girl’ façade, but scratch beneath that just a little bit and you find someone who is really quite sweet and caring. Though Vinyl is a background character, and we may never find out what she’s like in a canonical sense, this is the headcanon that I like to draw in terms of her personality. What do you guys think? Feel free to comment with your thoughts.

As for the relationship between Vinyl and Octavia, it is indeed a popular shipping, but what I’ve found is that most people look at the two of them and see something very simple: a party animal and a rich girl. Beyond that, there’s not much. What I tried to do here is create a backstory for Octavia that is more complex and sensitive that most people would think, and a new layer of Vinyl’s personality that you might not expect.

As of late, I’ve had a number of issues that have kept me from writing, namely the fact that I really haven’t had the time, and whenever I have had time, my PC will (5 times out of 10) blue screen before I’ve had the chance to even load Word. I literally have the worst PC ever built, so I really needed a good chunk of inspiration to get back into writing, and this little one-shot may be just the key to doing this. This is also my first ever first-person fic, so, any good?

If you enjoyed this story, please do rate it, favorite it, comment away, it all means a lot to me, and if you really enjoy my work, follow me for more stories in the (hopefully near) future.

8_Bit
<3