Chapter 1

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The party is raging.

Music pounds throughout the building, making your heart race and your ears ring. The bass echoes in your chest and you felt slightly short of breath, but that only adds to your excitement. You can’t remember the last time you had been to a party this good with this many ponies. In fact, you are beginning to think you have never been to a party this good.

You wander through the enormous mansion, weaving expertly around the clumps of ponies all talking and drinking, careful to avoid any spills. Considering the lavish nature of the house, you assume it belongs to a wealthy family who are most likely on vacation while their son or daughter throws the party. You chuckle to yourself as you imagine the reaction of the parents when they find out that over a hundred ponies had been pounding down these halls. Well, probably over a hundred. You have no idea, but there sure are a lot.

Like a moth to a flame, you’re drawn to the source of the music. A complex mixing table (at least, that’s what you think it’s called) has been set up in a small antechamber leading to the main entrance hall with cables taped to the floor leading all over the house, pumping music into every room. A dozen ponies are chatting or watching the DJ, who you are surprised to see is quite a famous figure. With the maroon goggles and electric blue hair, the unmistakeable visage of Vinyl Scratch fills your eyes as you join the ponies watching her work. She moves like lightning, hooves deftly turning knobs and flipping records and you truly begin to appreciate why she got so famous. It’s easy enough to dismiss famous artists as hacks or tryhards, so seeing one up close and having undeniable proof that she has the skills to back up her image serves to consolidate your love for her music.

As you happily watch her, though, you begin to notice that every now and then she will quickly glance over your shoulder at the other side of the room. Curious, you nonchalantly trot over to an unoccupied chair in the corner to better observe the entire chamber. As expected, it was not one of the priceless paintings adorning the walls that kept distracting Vinyl Scratch, but a grey-coloured earth pony with long dark hair and long eyelashes, which kept batting in the direction of the DJ. Eyes darting between the two, your lips give way to a devious smirk as you realise what’s going on.

The grey pony sips delicately from a wine glass and you look at your plastic red cup with shame. Even at a crazy-ass party you have no more style than anyone else. Shrugging, you decide that’s not such a bad thing as you drink the last of your whatever-it-was. The mare who handed it to you with a wink hadn’t specified exactly what it was, but who are you to question a stranger’s generosity?

Feeling relaxed yet mischievous, you lean back in the chair and rest your head on your left hoof, continuing your undetected surveillance of the worst kept secret in the world. It’s almost like seeing a conversation take place without words. Vinyl would flip a record and toss a sly wink at the grey pony, who would then lick her lips sensually with her eyes half closed and those angelic lashes fluttering, which in turn would elicit a further suggestive motion from the DJ, and so on and so forth.

Their show is interrupted briefly as a purple unicorn blocks your vision and sits on a chair beside you. Ignoring her, you continue your sorta-kinda-almost voyeurism until you receive a light tap on your right hoof. Annoyed at being interrupted again, you turn to the unicorn mare and prepare to teach her why she shouldn’t disturb drunken lesbian enthusiasts when she whispers, “Are you watching them too? They’re being so obvious!” She giggles and your irritation vanishes. You reply with a quiet laugh of your own and the two of you continue to stifle your mutual mirth as you watch. What was arousing and sexy moments ago is now hilarious, you find out.

The grey pony dribbles a bit of wine down her chin and tilts her head back with wide, imploring eyes as if looking up at Vinyl, apparently meant to imply some sort of situation where her mouth had been somewhere low on Vinyl’s body. The DJ responds with a confused frown, not getting it. Miss dark hair and long lashes pouts, trying to add to the effect. Instead, Vinyl raises one eyebrow and lowers the other in a hilariously uncertain look. You find yourself gripping onto the unicorn beside you as she holds tightly onto you, both wheezing and struggling not to laugh.

“Oh god...I can’t...take this anymore!” you whisper hoarsely. Your new purple friend can’t stop shaking and has her face screwed up in an adorable attempt to withhold her giggling. You bury your head in her mane in an attempt to hide your face and by extension the aching grin you’re sporting. She tries to achieve the same goal by pressing her face into your chest.

You know you must look like an odd sight, but you couldn’t care less. Together, you slowly come down from the apex of hilarity as she stops shaking with internal laughter while you stop grinning like a madman, instead opting for a casual smile.

Suppressing the urge to relapse into laughter, which you know would bring the unicorn down with you, you lift your head out of her mane and she does the same with your chest.

In a single, horrifying movement, you both look up at the grey pony.

Who looks right back.

With murder in her eyes.

Your smile freezes on your face like the laughter of a pony who has been killed and took a moment to realise. The purple unicorn tightens her grip on you, indicating she had the same reaction. You don’t need to look at the mixer table to know there are two windows into the eternal suffering of hell staring at you from behind maroon goggles.

Slowly, you and your new friend stand up, still holding onto each other, and shuffle towards the open door. For some reason, you hear your old biology teacher’s voice in the back of your mind.

“...threat of immediate danger will initiate the fight-or-flight response, a primal reaction that...”

You almost chuckle at the memory before remembering the two very angry mares watching you leave. When you finally make it out the doorway, you both heave a sigh of relief and share a smile.

After a moment, you awkwardly say, “Er...I think we can stop holding each other now. Um, if you want.” You wish death upon yourself for adding the second sentence. The sweet embrace of eternity is the only thing that you deserve for saying something that awkward.

Luckily, your friend either didn’t notice or is extremely tactful. Either way, you are grateful. She untangles her hooves from yours and you do the same, dropping back down to all fours.

“My name is Twilight,” she says happily, blowing some hair out of her eyes in a way that makes your chest hurt. Surely this pony is a cherub, the physical embodiment of cuteness. You manage to stammer out your own name, still enthralled by the effortless charm she emits. She notices you’re staring and her eyes widen.

“Oh no, do I have something on my face?” she paws at her countenance in an effort remove the phantom imperfection. You grin and shake your head and it takes all your effort to resist making the corniest joke in existence by leaning in and saying “Yeah, me!” like a regular Casaneighva.

Thankfully, self control prevails, but knowing you could have done it makes your heart beat faster.

“Don’t worry, your face is perfect,” you say without thinking. It seems doing that is becoming a common occurrence around Twilight. She reddens and you wish you still had your drink, just so you could avoid looking at her and furthering her embarrassment.

Still blushing, she cocks her head to the side thoughtfully, and then takes your hoof and starts leading you down one of the halls. You splutter out a noise that might have been a question and she looks back at you with a devious smile much like the one you wore not too long ago. “If you enjoyed watching those two, wait until you see my friend. She’s hopeless at flirting,” she says merrily. You can only manage a strangled laugh, cursing your vocal cords for failing you at a time like this.

Together, you enter a larger, very crowded room. Twilight deftly pulls you to a vantage point that gives you a view of two couches in the centre of the room. They are situated on opposite sides of a coffee table covered entirely in little red cups.

Clearly trying to be casual and smooth, Twilight leans over to whisper in your ear and gestures at one of the couches. “See that pegasus with the rainbow mane?” Indeed you do, it’s quite hard not to. “Observe how she looks everywhere except the couch opposite her,” she whispers with a smile. You look closer, noticing the pegasus appears to be very uncomfortable, cheeks dark red with blush and eyes flitting about the room.

In unison, probably exactly when Twilight expected, you both turn your attention to the other couch, where four ponies are crammed together. Three of them are laughing together as most of the other ponies are, but one of them has their eyes unwaveringly set on Twilight’s friend. She’s a bright orange beauty, that’s for certain, and you feel like you’ve seen her before. Almost as if she read your mind, Twilight answers your unspoken question.

“That’s Spitfire, from the Wonderbolts. There are celebrities everywhere at this party!” The piece fits the puzzle in your mind, connecting the orange pegasus with a poster you saw earlier.

“Wait a second...” You realise what Twilight was trying to show you. In a similar but much more subtle manner, Spitfire was ‘conversing’ with the rainbow pony like Vinyl Scratch had been with the grey pony.

Her eyes saying so much more than words ever could and her smirk saying even more, Spitfire is completely focused on the opposite couch. In contrast to the DJ earlier, Twilight’s friend isn’t returning the attention, yet is obviously aware of it.

“See what I mean?” whispers Twilight. You nod absently. “Rainbow Dash can’t even look at her! It’s ridiculous.” So that’s the name of the unique pegasus. It certainly suits her.

You nudge Twilight, saying “I’ve got an idea. Watch this.”

You stroll casually around to the back of Rainbow Dash’s couch until you are standing right behind her. This brings Spitfire’s attention upon you, a curious stare from across the room, so you wink in a manner that you hope is ‘knowingly’. Leaning your head down, you whisper in the flustered pony’s ear.

“She’s into you, Rainbow. Go for it!” You quickly slip away into a crowd so when Rainbow Dash turns around, she has no idea who spoke.

Twilight raises an eyebrow in question when you make your way back to her.

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing she didn’t already know. If my amazing character judgement skills are still good, this should tip things over the edge,” you reply, settling your gaze back on the two mares and ignoring the even more confused look on Twilights face.

You mentally high-five yourself when you see that Rainbow, while still blushing like mad, is looking Spitfire dead in the eyes. As a result, the small smirk that the Wonderbolt was sporting had grown into a full on grin.

“Something tells me they’re gonna have a good night,” you say quietly, making Twilight giggle.

That giggle makes your chest ache. Why does this unicorn have such control over you? Deciding to act like the assertive and attractive stallion you are not, you take Twilight’s hoof and lead her back out into one of the endless corridors.

“Where are we going?” she laughs as you pull her along. Without even thinking, you push open a door and find exactly what you’re looking for. A bedroom.

Her laughter abates quickly. Not a good sign. You let go of her hoof an turn to face her, seeing the confused expression you were expecting. All you can do is pray she’s even slightly attracted to you in the way that you are to her.

The confused look vanishes in a dawn of realisation when you step closer, your faces only inches apart. Your heart threatens to break out of your chest when she blushes, yet you are acutely aware of how quickly this could all come crashing down. Moments later, this all comes crashing down.

“Wait a second,” she says, and you freeze your slow lean forward. Caught red handed. Attempted kiss. You’re going away for a long time, buddy.

“I’m not sure if I...” Twilight says awkwardly. You quickly lean back into a normal-ish pose and scratch the back of your head. If there is a god of awkwardness, you are his disciple.

Mumbling an apology, you push past Twilight and out the door, almost galloping down the hall. Twilight calls out behind you, but you slip into the maze of rooms and emerge somewhere on the other side of the mansion.

Operation: Avoid Twilight For The Rest Of Your Stupid Celestia-Damned Life receives the green light, and you take refuge in one of the many smaller entertainment rooms. There are only four other ponies in this one, thankfully, and two of which are making out in the corner in a mess of entangled limbs. One pony is passed out cold in an armchair upside-down, leaving a bored-looking mare with a light red coat standing next to a table stocked with drinks.

Her face brightens considerably when she notices you, so you wander over to the table.

“Hello, I’m an idiot,” you announce cheerfully, snatching a wine bottle from the table and taking three big swallows.

“I take it you just did something stupid, am I right?” she asks with a snicker. You nod gravely.

“Very stupid. So stupid, in fact, that if I begin to choke on this wine I don’t want you to help me.”

The mare laughs at that and you crack a smile.

“What are you doing in here alone? Well,” you glance at the moaning couple in the corner, “relatively speaking, that is.”

She shrugged. “My marefriend left to go get wasted with her ex, so I’ve just been standing here imagining ways to murder her.”

“I can respect that. Hey,” you add thoughtfully, “Is it just me, or are there a lot of lesbians at this party?”

“I know right?! It’s awesome!” she replies happily.

“Maybe for you it is, but it’s making my life kinda difficult.”

“Hah! Oh, is that what happened? Did you hit on one of them?”

You shake your head. “I’m pretty sure she’s straight, but I still messed it up.”

She places a hoof on your shoulder. “Finish too soon?” she asks sagely.

“What? No! We didn’t get that far!” you splutter in response.

“Wow. Finish way too soon?”

“No! I mean we didn’t even start kissing!”

“Holy shit dude.”

“No! I didn’t finish at all! There was no finishing! I led her into a bedroom and she got cold feet or something so I bailed!”

Her face turns to one of understanding. “Ahhh. Mixed messages, eh?”

“Something like that.” Your voice is still hoarse from desperately defending your manliness so you take another swig of wine. The mare flicks her long blue mane out of her face and offers a hoof.

“Name’s Shock.” You shake her hoof and tell her your name.

“That’s a weird name you have there,” she says, taking the wine bottle from you and swallowing three mouthfuls.

“Blame my parents. You wanna get out of here? Those two are getting serious.” You wave a hoof at the two ponies in the corner who seem to be attempting some form of symbiosis. Shock shrugs.

“Sure, I was getting sick of this room anyway.” With a cheerful shout, she tosses the wine bottle in the air and dives for the door. “First one out doesn’t get horribly injured by glass!” You barely have time to think before the wine bottle thuds to the ground. Shock sticks her head back in the room.

“Aw. I like it when they shatter,” she mutters disappointedly before turning to you. “Coming?”

You can’t stop the grin from forming. This mare might be crazy, but damn she was fun to be around.