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Dave growls at the spinning records under his hands. He had been on a roll, damn it, with the beats flowing through his fingertips like fucking magic, until he had hit a brick wall, and now nothing was working. With an annoyed huff, he turns off his turntables and tosses his headphones onto the desk beside them.
Maybe a nap will make him feel better.
He takes two steps and flops onto his bed, pulling off his shades and setting them on the card suits-patterned comforter. It takes just a few minutes before he falls asleep.
When he wakes up, he immediately feels like something is off. He's expecting Bro to jump him – that's what usually inspires this feeling – but when he sits up and slips on his shades, it's not Bro at all.
There's a girl standing at his turntables, her back to him. She's scratching at them like a pro, her head bobbing to the beat she's mixing. She's got a honey coloured tan and she's wearing a midriff-baring off-the-shoulder white T-shirt and daisy dukes.
Also, she has a tail. What.
It's like a horse's tail, and it matches the same colour of her messily cropped hair (which is two-toned electric blue, what the fuck, he'd say it's a wig but he can see the part in her hair and there is no way that is a wig. Talk about an expensive dye job. It has to be dyed. Right?)
She also has what looks like white horse ears on the top of her skull. He'd say those aren't real either, but they twitch in his direction. Okay, that's creepy.
She slips the headphones down around her neck (how was she wearing them on horse ears) and turns around. She's wearing big oval shades with purple lenses, and he can't see her eyes through them. He can see her eyebrows, though, and they're the same blue as her hair.
The blue is not natural. It can't be. He refuses to believe it.
Then again, she appears to be a horse anthro. A horse anthro with an awesome rack. God damn it, he's blaming Bro for this, somehow.
“'Sup,” she says casually, and Dave's eyes nearly bug out of his skull. Oh god, she's noticed him. Is he still asleep? He pinches his arm, which hurts like fuck and makes her laugh.
“Nah, dude, you're awake. I don't know how I'm here either.” She has a unicorn horn set high on her forehead, just past where her hairline starts. God damn, what even is his fucking life.
“I'm Vinyl,” she introduces herself, “Vinyl Scratch.”
“Dave,” he replies, and his voice is high and squeaky and he clears his throat. “Dave Strider.”
“Nice 'tables you got, Strider,” she says, turning her back to him again. “Pretty much what I have back home.”
Dave stands up, trying to ignore her tail flicking idly against her legs (she's barefoot, he's just realized now) as he goes to stand beside her. “Do I want to know where home is?” he asks, deadpanning. Okay, an attractive horse anthro girl is in his room and complimenting his turntables. He thinks he can deal with this.
“Place called Ponyville,” she says, head tilted to listen to the quiet beats she's idly mixing out of the headphones still around her neck. “Small, but I like it. Get enough gigs. Occasionally go out to Canterlot for some bigger clubs.”
“Ponyville.”
“Yeah. Problem?”
Dave blinks. “You're from that show my Bro watches.”
He can feel her gaze shift to him and an eyebrow goes up over those oval shades. “A show. Like, on actual television.”
He nods dumbly.
Vinyl is silent. Then, “Can I see an episode?”
“Sure? Don't see why not.” Dave leads the pony girl out into the apartment, pointing out random things as they head to the kitchen for popcorn. Vinyl opens the fridge door as Dave watches the popcorn bag slowly go around inside the microwave.
“Apple juice?” he hears her say. He turns around. She's holding a bottle with an expression that he would call 'delighted'. “Fantastic.”
“You like apple juice?” Dave asks. Vinyl tosses him the bottle and he catches it easily as she pulls out another for herself, cracking the seal and taking a long drag before answering.
“Yeah,” Vinyl explains, “I know a girl back in Ponyville who owns an apple farm with her family. She sells a whole bunch of homemade apple products, juice included.”
Dave tries to dredge up memories of episodes Bro forced him to watch as brotherly bonding time. “Uhh, Appleblossom, right?”
“Applejack, actually, but yeah, that's her.” The microwave dings and Vinyl makes her way out to the couch. Dave grabs the popcorn bag and follows.
Vinyl has herself stretched out, ankles crossed and legs halfway to the television stand. Dave hands her the stuff he's carrying and digs out the My Little Pony DVDs. He pops the first one into the player.
“I guess we're marathoning this shit til you get bored,” he says, sitting down beside her. She hands over the popcorn and extra apple juice, only to promptly dig her hand into the popcorn bag.
“Guess so,” she replies as the opening menu comes up. Dave clicks 'play all' and the first episode begins to play.
“Nightmare Moon!” Vinyl exclaims. “I remember her. She was a nasty piece of work.”
“So you're telling me that all this cartoon crap is real?” he asks. She nods.
“It's not cartoon for me,” she says, “and as I think you can tell, I'm not a full pony.”
The two of them settle down, with Vinyl interrupting every now and again to tell Dave her point of view. She's a bit disappointed that she's not a main character, but she's friends with the rest of the ponies, so she doesn't mind.
They're on episode six when Bro comes home. They're fairly engrossed in the TV, so they don't notice until a high pitched squeal emits from behind them in the general vicinity of the doorway.
Vinyl and Dave whip around (oh, whiplash, his neck) and stare, wide eyed, at the older Strider. The older Strider stares wide-eyed right back.
A long, silent moment before Vinyl cautiously raises her hand. “Hi?”
Bro grabs the doorway. “You're Vinyl Scratch.”
Vinyl nods. “Yeah.”
“You're Vinyl Scratch and you're in my apartment.”
The girl shoots Dave a look through her glasses before turning back to look at Bro. “Uh, yeah?”
Bro flattens his hand and fans himself. “Oh, my god. Oh my god. Oh. My. God.”
Vinyl's starting to look worried. “Dude, calm down. I don't want you to hurt yourself.”
Bro steps fully inside the apartment and closes the door. “I am your biggest fan.”
A slight blush rises to Vinyl's cheeks. “Oh, uh, thanks, man. 'Preciate it.”
“Can, can I hug you? Please?” God, he sounds like a twelve year old girl meeting Justin Beiber. Dave almost feels embarrassed for him. Vinyl, for her part, just chuckles and vaults herself over the back of the futon, spreading her arms.
“Sure thing,” she grins. Bro rushes at her and wraps his arms around her, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around a couple times. Dave can hear him squeeing under his breath. How did he ever think his Bro was anything except a giant dork again?
Eventually, Vinyl emerges from Bro's embrace a bit ruffled, but alive. “So you're Bro, huh? Dave's mentioned you.”
Bro nods, poker face back in place before he waves for her to take her seat back on the couch. She does so, making sure she doesn't sit on her tail, and Bro sits on her other side. “So you're watching My Little Pony?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Vinyl says. “Dave said apparently Ponyville is a cartoon show, and I'm curious as to how much you guys got wrong.”
“How'd we do?” Bro asks.
“Not bad,” Vinyl replies. “The Elements of Harmony are more awesome in real life, though.”
“I'd bet,” Bro mutters, and the episode ends.
“Is that the end of the disc?” she asks Dave, and he nods. He goes to get up, but a faint, sparkling blue glow presses the eject button, effectively changing the discs. Dave looks at Vinyl and her horn is surrounded by the same magic. Unicorn. Right. Just when he was getting used to her.
Bro, for his part, looks like he's about to start worshipping her. Something taps Dave's leg and the DVD remote is floating there, in sparkly blue, waiting for Dave to press play.
He takes it and presses play.