Charmingly Rustic

by Your Antagonist

Rating: teen
Tags: Romance
Length: 18177

A break in the monotony of Mare on Mare shipping, this is the love story of Big Mac and Fancy Pants

Who says romance must remain between two members of the opposite gender? Equestria wasn't built on Ponies accepting the norm and playing by the rules, it was built by the dreams of innovators who dared to challenge the norm while taking the critics in stride. This is the story of two such star-crossed innovators and their struggle for acceptance in a society that demands conformity. (This story was moved from my other account)

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-08-26 19:17:17 UTC

1: A Life Preserver In The Plastic Ocean

A Midnight Legends Press Production

Charmingly Rustic

Written by: Your Antagonist (VegaKS03) & Starwind Dood

Edited By: TheWattsMan & Starwind Dood

Chapter 1: A Life Preserver in the Plastic Ocean

Fancy Pants woke up to the broken rays of the early morning sun shining weakly through the half-open Venetian blinds of his penthouse suite in Canterlot. Sitting up in his queen sized bed he stretched his forelegs outward as a surge of electricity surged through his spine eradicating any restlessness that his body accrued during the night.

He took a moment to indulge in the bliss that morning provided, though it was quickly shattered by the sound of obnoxiously loud snoring emanating not three feet from himself. With an irritated glance he looked upon the source of the noise and was filled with a level of relative disgust at the pony who lay next to him: Fleur de Lis.

But it wasn’t Fleur De Lis herself that caused the immediate disgust in him, in fact it wasn’t Fleur De Lis at all. She was  charming if a bit self-absorbed, and in addition she was one of the most physically-desirable mares in all of Canterlot if not Equestria. Most mares would kill to have her looks, and even more stallions would kill to just have her. No. The disgust he felt was directed at him and himself alone, Fleur De Lis just happened to be a medium for his negative emotions.

Gazing upon her sleeping form, bitter sweet memories of their tribute to the more physical aspects of romance from the night before began to resurface in his mind. He could remember every second of their encounter from the moment the lights went out, to the climax that sent them both to the pinnacle of ecstasy.

Yet he could sternly recall the lack of satisfaction he felt during the act and it was an act, at least on his behalf. There was no passion last night and there hadn’t been since they’d first became a couple. There were only cold, mechanical, and calculated gimmicks that he provided to keep her interested and the majority of Canterlot’s paparazzi on Fleur De Lis instead of him.

He saw Fleur De Lis and everypony like her as plastic. Cheap pieces of pre-molded, manufactured and fake plastic. Here he was though, stranded out in the middle of Canterlot’s plastic ocean kept afloat only by the expectations of the thousands of mindless masses that looked to the lives of the elite as some escape from their everyday lives. If it didn’t pay his bills he would have voiced his concern for their well being years ago, but here he was playing the fool for those drones days in and day out.

Movement out of the corner of his eye told him that Fleur was beginning to come around and would be waking up soon, but soon didn’t stop the snoring now. Nodding to himself, Fancy Pants did what any irritated male would do in regards to the source of his dismay: he casually used a hind leg to push Fleur closer towards the edge of the bed, and with a final nudge he sent her to the floor below and chuckled softly to himself as he heard the thud.

A moment later, Fleur De Lis’ voice from the floor stifled his laughter. “Mmm... oh... not agai---” She punctuated her own sentence with a yawn as she got up. “Good morning Fancy, I had the strangest dream last night.”

With feigned enthusiasm, Fancy Pants inquired, “Oh? Please do tell, Fleur, I’m very much intrigued.” Fancy Pants began moving off of the bed

Fleur De Lis trotted over and leaned on him for balance in her drowsy state, and continued speaking which prompted him to grit his teeth slightly. “Well, it was you, some other pony, and myself standing in the most peculiar place: a seaside cliff. But I was the closest to the edge you see.”

“That does sound terrifying.” Fancy Pants was already enjoying this dream more and more by the moment, but Fleur De Lis looked nervous so he sat her back down on the bed and drew her close with a foreleg.

“And then the other pony... pushed me off the ledge and I fell until you caught my tail. While I was hanging upside down you grinned and then let go while laughing.”

Fancy Pants stifled another giggle as he drew a correlation to Fleur De Lis’ dream and his earlier prank.

“You wouldn’t let me fall, would you, Fancy?”

Attempting as playful a demeanor as possible, Fancy Pants deliberately opened and closed his mouth then pondered the issue with his hoof on his chin and a grin to which, Fleur De Lis took immediate offense, storming off into the kitchen of his penthouse with her nose turned up.

Shrugging, Fancy Pants moved to the shower room of the penthouse and took a long hot shower in preparation of the day ahead. He would have to take another plunge into the plastic ocean, but he didn’t have to carry Fleur De Lis’ scent on him while he subjected himself to their freezing waters.

Another day, another bit, I suppose. Fancy Pants thought to himself as he walked down the street from his penthouse. He hadn’t even turned the corner before he was ambushed by a swarm of paparazzi and as much as he hated to admit it, this situation simply wasn’t bearable with Fleur De Lis, but she was still fuming at him from earlier. That and he didn’t think he needed her around to go buy breakfast without being assaulted by paparazzi, but if Celestia’s divine will had anything to say about it, he would be proven wrong.

Straightening his trademark jacket and monocle, the high-society stallion carried himself with pride as he strode into the center of the photographers and reporters. Ignoring the constant flashes of cameras and probing questions that were droned out in the endless chorus of yet more probing questions he finally emerged from the cluster and proceeded to his favorite coffee and donut shop in Canterlot: Pony Joe’s.

Entering the establishment, he found that the paparazzi behind him merely formed a semicircle, blocking potential patrons from entering the establishment.

“Terribly sorry about that, Joe. I didn’t think they’d follow me all the way here.”

“Ehhh, don’t worry bout’ it, Fancy Pants,”-- Pony Joe waved off his concern with a hoof. " You’ve been a regulah custahmer of mine fa years, and I’ve come ta accept that your always gonna have that flock of uh...pests followin’ you around whenevah ya come around. Anyway, the usual for you?”

“Extra sprinkles, of course.”

“Comin’ right up!” Pony Joe disappeared into the kitchen to whip up Fancy Pants’ usual latte and bavarian cream.

“Well, well, well, what do ave’ ‘ere? Ees that Fancy Pants I spy?”

Fancy Pants turned his head to address the source rhetorical question “Ah, if it isn’t the lovely Photo Finish. How long has it been?”

“Feh! Do not talk to me as though we are friends! You stole my Fleur, and she was one of ze few models that had” --Photo Finish struck a pose pointing her right hoof at fancy Pants, which knocked his monocle out of place--“‘Ze Magics’!”

Casually pushing Photo Finish’s hoof out of his face, Fancy Pants replaced his monocle before continuing with an disinterested look in his eyes. “Ahem, quite.”

“Here ya go, Fancy Pants. The Bavarian cream is fresh outta the oven.” Pony Joe placed the latte and the pastry bag on the counter.

“They look as delectable as ever, Joe, and smell divine.” Fancy pants levitated his wallet out of his jacket pocket and dropped twenty bits and a small sapphire on the counter.

“Whoa, Fancy Pants, buddy it’s only four bits for yer usual. Whatta ya doin? I can’t take this much from you.”

“Then consider it from the customers you missed out on due to... that,” Fancy Pants gestured behind himself with a hoof towards the paparazzi.

Pony Joe shrugged and scooped the payment over to his register. “You’re the boss, Fancy Pants.”

“Awww eesn’t zat nice of you? I never expected to bear weetness to an act of charity from a thief.”Photo Finish cast a venomous glare at Fancy Pants, who very cooly levitated his latte and took a sip of the beverage.

Honestly, if you want Fleur back so badly then just take her. Fancy Pants dared not utter his thoughts aloud, lest he metaphorically chum the ocean and give the media sharks outside something to frenzy about.

“Well, Fancy Pants, eet 'as been a pleasure but now... I GO!”  Photo Finish punctuated her sentence with a dramatic glance at something to her left.

“Yes, you do that, as quickly as possible if you don’t mind.” Fancy Pants took another sip as he watched Photo Finish gallop out the entrance of the donut shop. With a sigh he levitated his bag of pastries, faced the door and prepared to throw himself back into the mass of media parasites.

“Hey, whoa, Fancy Pants, I can’t have my best customer usin’ the regula’ exit. C’mere, I’ll  let ya out the storage room,” Pony Joe gestured for Fancy Pants to follow him through the kitchen.

“Thank you, Joe. You’ve no idea how I loathe them.”

“Ah, they seem like divorce lawyers, always watchin’ ya, waitin’ on ya, memorizin' yer schedule. Ya know what I’m talkin’ bout’, right?”

“No, I can’t say that I do.”

“Pretty boy like yaself, you’ll find out one day.” The two stopped at the rear entrance of Pony Joe’s,  “Anyhow, here ya go. Be careful though, I’ve got some kid from uhhh... Ponyville outside deliverin’ apples. Pretty slow fella if ya ask me, doesn’t talk a lot. But I won’t keep ya, Fancy, I got sales to make offa’ ya ‘friends’ outside.”

“You take care as well, Joe,” Fancy Pants pulled the door open and was greeted by a crate that knocked him backwards on his rump causing him to lose the connection to his pastries and latte which spilled all over his suit jacket. “I say, who’s the bloke responsible?! This suit jacket was tailored by the duchess of--”

“Oh Ah’m so sorry, mister, I didn’t see ya there, it was an honest mistake please don’t press charges.”

"Not at all," Fancy Pants replied, "quite frankly, I think we need more honest mistakes in our world." Something to get me away from this artificial nightmare of a life. "If I may I ask, what is your name?"

"Big Macintosh," the red stallion replied. "And your name, iffin’ you might oblige me?"

"Fancy Pants," he replied.

"Fancy Pants!" the loud voice of a paparazzi pony called out. "If I can ask you a few questions!"

"Oh Celestia," Fancy Pants groaned as more paparazzi ponies encroached in on him. "I was just making acquaintance with a charming pony too."

"Where are all these ponies comin' from, Mr. Pants?"

Mr. Pants? It’s so simple, I love it! "Oh some wretched hive of scum and villainy I would assume. Tell me, Big Macintosh, have you ever experienced winking before?"

"Winkin'?" Big Macintosh replied, confused. "What's winkin'?"

"Oh, you'll absolutely hate it." Fancy Pants’ horn glowed for a moment and raising a hoof to Big Macintosh’s shoulder they were enveloped in a bright blue glow and the pair disappeared.

Reality snapped back into place for Big Macintosh. He had no idea where he was, and felt a little nauseous. "I could go without doing that again," he groaned.

"I agree," Fancy Pants replied. "Truly dreadful experience, but far too convenient to give up."

"Does that kind of kind of thing happen you all the time, Mr. Pants?"

I still love it. "You have no idea. My life is just the next story for these ponies. Fancy Pants, the novel. Coming to an overpriced coffee store near you."

"I don't get it," Big Macintosh replied.

And any other  kiss-flank pony would have laughed anyway.

Fancy Pants' felt compelled by something. "Big Macintosh, you have been a delight to talk to. If you're free in the evening, would you like to join me for some dinner?"

"Sorry, Mr. Pants, Ah’m gonna have to decline."

Fancy Pants' heart fell a little.

"Ah cain’t afford to eat at any of them fancy high-class establishments a pony like you would eat at."

Choking out a laugh Fancy Pants replied "It would be my treat. Believe me when I say I have more money then I could actually consider what to do with."

"It still wouldn't fit right with me to take another pony's bits like that."

"Then what if I let you choose the locale?" Fancy Pants suggested.

"Well, if you don't mind, there’s a nice place in Canterlot Ah like to visit whenever Ah'm in town."

"Sounds wonderful," Fancy Pants answered, gazing into Big Macintosh honest green eyes that shone like emeralds in the midday sun. Nothing was being held back in those eyes; they reflected the simple story of an honest, hard-working pony. Something he would never see in the faces of the dime a dozen, nose in the air superficial ponies that plagued this city. "I cannot wait."

"Alright then, Mr. Pants." Big Macintosh turned, about to go his own way before turning back. "Ah don't suppose you could wink us back? Ah still need to deliver my apple shipment to Mr. Joe."

Fancy Pants gave a genuine laugh for the first time in years. "Of course." With a single spark of his horn, he whisked Big Macintosh and himself back to Pony Joe's.

After arriving at the rear entrance of Pony Joe’s, Big Macintosh stumbled unsteadily towards the ground below. “Ah don’t think I’ll ever get used to that, Mr. Pants.”

“I fear neither shall I, Big Macintosh,” Fancy Pants readjusted his monocle before helping Big Macintosh up.

“Thanks Mr. Pants, this delivery shouldn’t take too long, it’s just two crates,” Big Macintosh walked over to the crate he assaulted Fancy Pants with earlier as it was the closest and began to push it further into the kitchen.

Fancy Pants rubbed his face with a hoof and took this opportunity to contend with his inner monologue: What am I doing? I have a reputation and an image to uphold as a very important pony. If I’m seen with somepony like him, it’ll be the end of me in Canterlot. And yet I don’t care. He’s different than all these mindless automatons, so much simpler, so much more innocent. Maybe after dinner that’ll be the end of it.

Big Macintosh returned from the kitchen and began pushing another crate of apples with astounding ease, which caught Fancy Pants’ eye. Big Macintosh was larger and had better muscular definition than most stallions Fancy Pants ever met, and yet, even with all of that strength, he didn’t flaunt it around like the models Fancy Pants was accustomed to tailoring to. Instead, Big Macintosh chose to remain humble and pensive.

Returning from the kitchen again, Big Macintosh trotted up to Fancy Pants “Well, that was my only delivery for the day. I reckon Ah’ll see you tonight, Mr. Pants?”

“Well actually, Big Mactintosh, I was thinking that maybe, if you’re not too busy, we could spend the day together, you see the city is terribly boring without somepony else to explore it with.”

“Well...” Big Macintosh rubbed his chin with a hoof, “Ah don’t see no harm in it, why not? Lead the way Mr. Pants.”

“With pleasure Big Mac,” Fancy Pants bowed slightly towards his new acquaintance and trotted almost giddily away from Pony Joe’s, Big Macintosh in tow.

2: Painting The Town... With Mud!

A Midnight Legend Press Production

Charmingly Rustic

Written By: Your Antagonist & Starwind Dood

Edited By: The WattsMan

Chapter 2: Painting the Town with... With Mud!

Big Macintosh followed Fancy Pants through the crowded streets of Canterlot, and quickly noted that, of all the ponies that passed by, most of them were well dressed and shot him disapproving looks. Some would mutter things under their breath that he couldn’t make out, but was almost certain were aimed at his rustic appearance.

Trotting quickly to catch up with Fancy Pants, the red stallion voiced his dismay for the situation: “Mr. Pants, everypony keeps starin’ at me. Have Ah done somethin’ to offend 'em?”

“Not at all, Big Macintosh, it’s just the way the atmosphere around here is, doesn’t suit somepony as...” Fancy Pants gave Big Macintosh a once over and realised the issue lay in wardrobe, or lack thereof. “As passe as yourself,” he concluded with a forced grin.

“What does that mea--” Big Macintosh ceased his inquiry halfway as he squinted at something in the distance. “Say, Mr. Pants, don’t they look familiar to you?”

Fancy Pants looked at the spot his new companion was focused on and noticed a familiar mass of photographers and journalists heading in their direction. “Oh dear.” He searched around frantically for some port in the approaching storm, and his eyes fell upon a very familiar boutique that he’d conducted business in several times before: “Fendi la Pouf”. “Come with me, Big Macintosh,” Fancy Pants casually cantered towards the shop in question.

“Right behind ya, Mr. Pants.” The pair made their way into the store trying to maintain as low a profile as possible, lest somepony recognize Fancy Pants and shout his name.

"And what are we doing in here, Mr. Pants?" the country stallion wondered.

"Hopefully calling in a favor," Fancy Pants groaned. He didn't look forward to conversing with one of the biggest names in fashion, but he liked the idea better than wading through hundreds of hungry paparazzi leeches just waiting to suck out more of his life.

Fancy Pants led Big Macintosh through the eccentrically built store. Fashion designers saw themselves as artists and demanded to put their ego in every little thing they did, but nopony dared to speak up against it. After more left turns than should be architecturally possible, Fancy Pants found himself facing the door at the rear of the store. He levitated out an assortment of keys and began sifting through them. "Which one, which one?" he mumbled. "Ah! Here we are!" With the proper key located, he was able to open the door. The door opened to Hoity Toity's personal studio where the owner was always at work.

"Fancy Pants?" Hoity Toity gawked. "And just what are you doing here?"

"Same old, same old. Dodging vultures and what not, but now with company at the least." Good company.

Hoity Toity adjusted his sunglasses, giving Big Macintosh a once-over. "You make rather odd friends, Fancy Pants."

"Odd?" Big Macintosh repeated quizzically. "Personally, Ah find your whole city odd. Pony cain't walk around five feet without being assaulted by reporters." Fancy Pants could barely hold in his laughter over the honest and frank answer.

The pretentious pony simply turned up his snout at Big Macintosh. "So just why are you here, Fancy Pants?"

"I'm trying to sneak away from those reporters. Your boutique just happened to be conveniently close, and you did give me a key for all our work together. Would you mind if I procured a wardrobe for myself and my new acquaintance?"

"Fine, just take what you need, and go," the high-strung fashion designer sighed. "And please don't track mud everywhere, I'm trying to work."

"Interesting work you got going?" Big Macintosh said with a smirk.

"Just go!" Hoity Toity yelled, pointing at the door.

Once they left the office, they were faced with the labyrinth of the boutique’s sales-floor yet again. "Well, let’s see if we can’t make ourselves unrecognizable, what do you say, Big Macintosh?”

“Lead the way Mr. Pants, and please, my friends call me Big Mac.”

Friends? Big Mac? Yes! Fancy Pants almost giggled aloud, but stifled it in favor of his cool demeanor. Wandering the various and seemingly infinite jungles of mare’s clothing and accessories, Fancy Pants finally found the stallion’s section of the store.

“Hmmm... what to do first?” Fancy Pants turned to Big Macintosh, who only beamed casually. In that moment, Fancy Pants was struck by inspiration for an ensemble that would help his companion fit into Canterlotian society.

Big Macintosh was taken aback as his fancily-dressed new friend began pushing him through various parts of the male clothing section, holding up various articles of clothing and pressing them up against Big Macintosh. Over the course of fifteen minutes, a transformation occurred that changed Bic Macintosh from simple country pony to somepony that could have very well stumbled out of a modeling catalogue of finer western wear. He currently wore: a tan sports coat with a matching Stetson hat, a blue undershirt, and brown aviator sunglasses.

Fancy Pants took a moment to step back and admire his work. Quite the look. He could have any mare he wanted Fancy Pants thought with a sigh. "Do you like it?" he asked, finding himself too eager for a positive answer.

"I haven't had this much fun gettin’ gussied up in awhile. I usually have wear stuffy black coats..." Big Macintosh gave a quick look to Fancy Pants and his stuffy black coat. "My apologies."

"None taken," Fancy Pants answered with a quick laugh. "I dare say the stuffy look suits me."

"Yeah, you look good in a coat, Mr. Pants."

You think so? Fancy Pants shook his head. "Thank you, but now let's see about making me disappear." He took a quick dip into the hat aisle and a turn to the sunglasses rack. Fancy Pants had dawned a fedora hat with a pair of Oatley's sunglasses. "How do I look?"

"Now you just look silly," the cowcolt commented.

"Then the illusion is complete," Fancy Pants laughed. "Now let's see about getting ourselves out of here. Hold yourself with dignity, Big Mac. Believe me when I say those parasprites wouldn't know the meaning of the word it if it bit them on the flank."

Fancy Pants and Big Macintosh casually trotted out of Hoity Toity's boutique. The paparazzi ponies didn't recognize them, allowing the two stallions to cut through the crowd and get away, unharassed.

"Glad that's over with," Big Macintosh groaned. "How do you put up with it?"

"I ask myself that every day. I guess after a certain point it just becomes routine, but I certainly cannot complain about a lack of excitement in my life,” Fancy Pants chuckled.

“Well, where to next?”

“Are you an avid art enthusiast Big Mac?”

“Cain’t say Ah’m too fond of spendin’ my hard earned bits to gaze at somepony’s fancy scribblins, Mr. Pants.”

Fancy Pants chuckled to himself before continuing, “Neither am I Big Mac, but let’s visit a gallery anyway, it’ll give us something to do until dinner.”

“You’re the boss, Mr. Pants.”

Somewhere in the home office of “The Canterlot Chronicler” newspaper, a very nervous brown earth-pony intern, balancing a cup of coffee on his back, stood outside the office of the greatest mudslinging investigative journalist to ever write for the paper: “Hot Tip.”

The intern reached up carefully to knock on the door, but before his hoof could make contact with the wood, the door swung open, and a hoof shot out seizing him by him mane and dragging him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. When the interns vision finally caught back up with him, he realized he was currently face to face with a veiny-eyed, disheveled gray pegasus stallion sporting a sweat stained dress shirt with a soup stained tie, topped off with a greasy and horribly out of sorts mane.

“Alright Skip, what’s the skinny? I need this story and for you to spin it quick, time is opportunity, and you’re no lottery yourself, so what can I do ya for? The name’s Hot Tip by the way.”

The intern recovered from the onslaught of rapid fire lingo and managed to stutter out “Uh... um... coffee for you, careful it’s--” Hot Tip seized the cup of coffee from the intern’s back and downed the beverage like a desert strandee being handed a glass of ice water “--Hot.”

Hot Tip shook his head spasmodically as the caffeine hit his system, and gazed at the intern with renewed focus. “Coffee, kid. In this line of work it’s what water is to a fish, because sleep is for the weak and untalented. Anyway, Bill, what do ya want?”

“Actually, Mr. Hot Tip, sir, my name is--”

“Frank, I don’t have time to play these guessing games! Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a big breakthrough?”

The intern looked around the office and saw only a massive mess of papers and strings connected to pins sticking out of various walls giving the office the feel of a spider’s web.

“Uh, no sir, and my name is--”

Hot Tip held up a hoof to silence the intern. “Wait a minute, Jack,” --The intern sighed-- “Can you smell that?” Hot Tip began sniffing the air with fervent enthusiasm. The intern attempted to sniff the air as well but was only rewarded with the stench that emanated from Hot Tip, who was now running on three days without showering.

“No sir I can’t and my name is--”

“I smell a scoop! Scoop... scoop... kid your new name is now... ‘Scoop’!” --The intern face hoofed-- “C’mon, Scoop, and step lively. There’s a story in these halls, I can smell it.” Hot Tip dashed out of the office and wove through the cubicles to reach the elevators with remarkable speed; his newly appropriated intern in tow.

“Well then Charlie-- Charlie?” Hot Tip glanced around for his non-existent intern and tapped his hoof impatiently as the intern galloped up out of breath. “Well, it’s about time, Fred.”

“Mr. Hot Tip, sir, my name isn’t Fred. It’s--”

“No time for idle jibber-jabber, Sam, there’s a scoop to be caught!"

The reporter quickly took note that he was not alone in the elevator, and turned to the other pony he quickly recognized as Photo finish. With a grin, he addressed her, “My, my my, is that Photo Finish I spy?”

Photo Finish took note of this, turning her head giving him a once over before audibly gagging to express her malcontent in two words: “Filzee Parasprite.”

“Ouch, doll. You really struck me in the ticker with that one.” Hot Tip dramatically clasped a hoof to his chest

Photo Finish sighed and began to chastise Hot Tip, “First Fancy Pants, zen you? Heh.. A thief and a mudslinger in ze same day, what are ze odds?”

This kindled immediate interest in the reporter’s eyes. “A thief, you say? Jimmy, write this down: ‘Finagled Fashionista frets with the Frugal Philanthrope: Fancy Pants’. That’s front page stuff right there. Now, who’s this mudslinger you mentioned?”

Photo Finish didn’t bother making eye contact for her retort, “You are an eediot.”

“And you, Ms. Finish, are a lead in this story. Now just what is it going to take for me to get you to spill?”

Photo Finish opened her mouth to fire out another insult, but closed it just as quickly, pondering this situation and how it could be used to her advantage. "I 'ave considered your proposal, but I will only cooperate on ze grounds that you will ruin him, yes?”

“My dear Photo Finish, on my journalistic integrity,” --This idea of “integrity” being associated in any way with this stallion prompted a chuckle from Photo Finish-- “ I will drag his reputation lower than my dignity, and that is a promise.”

"Vat dignity?” The elevator finally stopped and with the doors open: Photo Finish, the intern and Hot Tip stepped into the lobby.

“Exactly, now let’s talk turkey.”

"Mr. Pants, not meanin’ to sound ungrateful, but Ah’ve got no idea what Ah’m supposed to be lookin’ at.”

“Big Mac, I do believe this is what they call ‘modern art’, but I suppose there’s some kind of abstract value to be found upon it if one were to scrutinize it intensely,” Fancy Pants leaned forward and squinted at the multi-colored canvas attempting to find some artistic merit in the eyesore.

“Well, Ah don’t know what you’re lookin’ for, but to me it just looks like somepony ate paint and upchucked it on paper.”

Fancy Pants burst into laughter, garnering the attention of everypony in the gallery. “Oh, my goodness, Big Mac, ha ha, that’s absolutely rich! Upchucked on paper, an astoundingly honest deduction. We need more of that in this city.”

Someponies behind the two overheard Fancy Pants’ remark and expressing the beguiled nature that was a trademark of Canterlot’s residents, they began scrutinizing the painting as well.

“Huh, when you made that comment back there, all of them other ponies started tearin’ that paintin’ a new one.”

“Such is Canterlot, Big Mac. Everypony follows somepony who breaks the mold, and I suppose that’s how I got to where I am today. But enough about that then, how about we find something that can be appreciated." Fancy Pants lead Big Macintosh through the museum, searching for a specific exhibit that had always caught Fancy Pants' eye.

At the end of the hall was a statue known as the thinking stallion. "What's this, Mr. Pants?"

"The thinking horse, depicting a stallion deep within his thoughts. It suggests the more mental nature of our being, about sitting down, and looking at life."

"Mr. Pants,"

"Yes?"

"Ah do that every day on the john," Big Macintosh replied.

"Really?" the unicorn turned back to the statue, suppressing a giggle. "I suppose that is the easiest time to reflect on life."

"Only time. Working the farm: that's my life, and it ain’t what Ah call a relaxin’ one."

"That's... a shame," Fancy Pants replied.

"Eenope. It's something to be enjoyed when Ah get to."

"Something you enjoy, you say?" Do I enjoy my life here? "I dare say you're quite like the thinking horse here. Quiet, contemplative, why you even have a similar physique."

"Ah wouldn't quite call myself the thinkin' type, and you're quite built yourself."

"Well," Fancy Pants examined his body, "the world expects me to look good, so I must oblige."

"You do a good job at it."

"Wha-"

"Well if it isn't Fancy Pants! How are you doin’, baby?" a loud and boisterous voice called out.

Fancy Pants audibly and physically groaned. "Sapphire Shores. I never took you for a mare of art."

"Music is art, baby, and art loves me," the gaudy pony replied. "I was invited here by the curator if you must know, probably to drum up some business, but I just can't ignore an invitation." Sapphire turned to Big Macintosh. "And just who are you?" she asked with an inviting grin.

"Ah'm Big Macintosh," the stallion answered, completely shocked by the audacious behaviour of the mare.

"Mmm, big I'm sure," she playfully replied.

"Traditionally, you're expected to be quiet in a museum, Ms. Shores."

"I'll let you know when I give a damn about what anypony else expects of me, Fancy baby, and I can tell by the company you keep” --She eyed Big Macintosh hungrily and gave a little growl-- “you don’t either.”

"Mr. Pants?" the embarrassed stallion turned back to Fancy Pants, his eyes begging for some way out from the sassy lemon-cream mare.

"Yes, well, if you'll excuse us, Ms. Shores, Mr. Macintosh and I have some business to attend to over dinner. Enjoy the rest of your day," he said curtly.

"Oh I will," Sapphire Shores replied, "and I hope you have plenty of fun on your dinner date."

Fancy Pants flinched for a moment.

"Have fun now, baby," Sapphire Shores waved goodbye as she went on her way, strutting her glamor across the museum.

"Er, yes, I will," Fancy Pants mumbled. There were many terms he had for Sapphire Shores after working with her so many times prior: narcissistic, eccentric, diva, lustful, irking. Always flying from party to party, and shoving her face wherever she could, but slightly hard to peg. He turned back to Big Macintosh. “Shall we, Big Mac?”

“Lead the way, Mr. Pants.”

As the pair strode casually out of the museum, into the crowded Canterlot streets, an audible click could be heard.

3: Dining With The Dashing

A Midnight Legends Press Production

Charmingly Rustic

Written By: Your Antagonist & Starwind Dood

Edited By: The WattsMan

Chapter 3: Dining with the Dashing

In a local coffee house located a stone’s throw from the Canterlot Chronicler, one of the odder couples of the evening were discussing issues of a volatile nature over a table full of emptied out, upside-down coffee mugs that began to form a small settlement akin to those of the Appaloosian Buffalos.

“So, Ms. Finish, you claim that Fancy Pants stole something from you?” Hot Tip prodded as he reached over to another cup of coffee and drained it in a fashion similar to a leech, tossing the now emptied husk into the ever growing pile; currently he counted six empties and was aiming to make it ten before leaving.

After recoiling disgustedly at her companion’s lack of restraint towards his consumption, Photo Finish quickly regained her composure before continuing, “Not somezing, somepony.”

“Stolen ponies, huh? I can see the headlines now: Fancy Pants Involved in Equestrian Trafficking Racket! I like it Ms. Finish, tell me more.” Turning towards the counter, Hot Tip yelled at the intern he’d appropriated from the office, “Hey, Chip, bring me another round, I’m runnin’ on fumes over here!”

Photo Finish brushed off the reporter’s rambling before continuing, “You misunderstand, 'e 'as stolen my model: Fleur de Lis-”

“The one he’s dating now?” the caffeine-addled reporter interrupted her.

Photo Finish twitched as she resumed speaking, “Yes.”

“Lightbulb! Fancy Pants Holds Fleur de Lis Against Will, Fashionista Photo Finish Jealous, Wishes It Was Her Instead.”

“Vat?!” Photo Finish bellowed out with an offended tone while slamming her hooves down on the table.

Hot Tip patted her left-hoof sympathetically. “It’s quite alright, Ms. Finish. I understand that you’re upset because he didn’t choose you first- Hey Jack, where’s my cup of mud?! I’m dyin’ over here!”

The intern scurried over nervously. “S-sorry for the delay, sir. Here you are: four black mexicoltian roast coffees just like you asked for. Careful they’re-” Hot Tip seized the first cup available and downed it without hesitation. “...hot.” The intern concluded flatly. “And my name isn’t Jack, it’s--”

Photo Finish shot a death glare at the intern. “Silence, whelp!” Returning her gaze to Hot Tip, her eyes narrowed with irritation. “Are you insinuating zat I would be jealous over Fancy Pants?”

“Well doll, only if the saddle fits, and I’d say we have quite the flank-filler here.”

Photo Finish struck the three remaining coffee cups with her hoof out of anger and sent their burning contents spilling across Hot Tip, who merely grinned through the searing liquid. “The jokes on you doll, I ain’t slept in three days so I can’t feel none-a-this.”

Photo Finish glared at Hot Tip. “Why you--”

A new voice cut the Fashionista’s threat off mid-sentence. “Excuse me, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all, chief, would you care to join us?” Hot Tip offered a seat.

“And you are?” Photo Finish asked condescendingly

“Where are my manners, I’m the Editor-in-Chief of the Canterlot Chronicler: Deus ex Machina, and sorry Tip I can’t stay long. I’m just here to inform you that Fancy Pants has been spotted around town with some new stallion, and we want you to investigate what all this hub-bub is about. Who knows, it could be our next front-pager!”

Hot Tip saluted the chief. “You can count on me chief!” The chief returned the gesture with a simple nod before leaving.

“Well, Ms. Finish, would you care to accompany me?”

“Not particularly, but I suppose for now.” Photo Finish struck a pose and pointed at one of the Batista's behind the counter while looking at something obscure in the distance. “We go!”

A barista behind the counter overheard this. “Not without paying you don’t-- Hey get back here!”  It was too late, his demands fell on deaf ears as Photo Finish and Hot Tip had already dashed out of the coffee house leaving the intern alone to deal with the bill.

With a sigh, the intern reached for his wallet. “I’ll pay for them, how much do I owe you?”

“Your friends over there drank over eighty-eight bits worth of imported coffee, I do hope you have enough bits to cover that charge.”

Opening his wallet, the intern saw a literal moth fly out and a singular rusty bit was all that remained. “Uhh... heh heh, do you take I.O.U.s?”

"No."

"So how are you enjoying yourself in the capital city of Equestria, Big Mac?" Fancy Pants asked his evening companion, more eager for an answer than he was willing to admit.

"Ah'm having fun," Big Macintosh replied. "There aren't as many interesting places in Ponyville. Only place to go for fancy clothes like this is Rarity's place, though she kind of lacks the stallion touch," Big Macintosh chuckled. "The towns really a mare's place, but it's where my family is."

"That's right, Rarity lives in ponyville."

"You know her?" Big Macintosh asked.

"We met briefly, and I must say she's an acquaintance I was happy to make. I'm sure she'll go far in Canterlot in her own time."

Big Macintosh began to shift uncomfortably. "Say, Mr. Pants, what exactly is it you do here in Canterlot?"

"My job? I'm an entrepreneur here in the fashion industry. I started a business with aspiring artists who wanted to change the world. Then I got roped into all the tabloid nonsense and front page scandals. Not the life I had expected." Fancy Pants thought back to this very morning. He woke up next to a mare he felt no true love for, and was almost immediately mobbed by strangers with cameras. Tonight he would be expected to lay on top of her and go through the motions, like a perverse dance, and all just for the entertainment of ponies he didn't care about, but he went along with it anyway. Is this my life now?

Big Macintosh noticed his partner's sudden change in demeanor and tried to change the subject. "Well, Ah can't say much about fancy coats, but I'm pretty good when it comes to selling apples."

Fancy Pants was brought back to reality. "Selling apples? I'm sure there are some inner working of the business that are similar to the fashion industry if the goal is the same: sell more than the competition."

"Eeyup, and no other pony sells more apples than Apple Acres."

Fancy Pants raised an intrigued eyebrow at that statement "You almost sound prideful, Big Mac. I dare say that's the most emotion I have seen out of you all day-"

"Fancy Pants!"

Fancy Pants recognized the voice calling him. He turned, slowly, to face the one mare he, deep down, prayed to both princesses he would not see this day, but there she was. She stood there, a predictable entourage stalking her from the accepted distance, her beautiful face smiling at him. "Fleur De Lis," Fancy Pants called back to her, proper etiquette and customs pulling him along.

"Fancy Pants," the mare strode up to him, "I didn't know you were going out on the town tonight. I would have joined you."

"Yes, well, I had no idea myself," Fancy Pants mumbled, feeling more uncomfortable as the mare inched closer. "It's a surprise to myself, really. I just happened to make a new friend." Fancy Pants stepped away from Fleur De Lis, getting closer to Big Macintosh. He held a hoof out, gesturing to the red stallion. "This is Big Macintosh. Big Macintosh," Fancy Pants turned back to the white mare. "This is Fleur De Lis. She's my-"

"Fillyfriend," Fleur De Lis finished for him. "charmed to meet you" She extended a hoof to Big Macintosh.

"Ah reckon the feelins mutual Ms. de Lis," he answered. "I'm Fancy Pants' friend."

"Well, a pleasure to meet you," Fleur De Lis replied dryly. "So when will you be done on your guys night out?" she asked, turning back to Fancy Pants.

"I'll be late. You probably shouldn't wait up for me." Fancy Pants felt this conversation becoming too dangerous to continue. "So, I suppose I'll see you back at the suite later?"

"Yes," the unicorn model responded. "See you." She playfully rubbed a hoof under Fancy Pants' chin before trotting off, stalked by her shadow of paparazzi.

"Well, that was... interesting?" Big Macintosh broke the silence between the two. "She's beautiful. You're a lucky stallion."

"Well," Fancy Pants sighed, "between you and I, she has horrible morning breath... Anyhow let us be on our way Big Mac!"

“Right... dinner...” Big Macintosh looked at the ground with a hit of resignation in his eyes

Fancy Pants took quick notice of this and addressed his companion’s sudden change in demeanor. “Is something the matter Big Macintosh?”

        Big Macintosh shook his head while adorning a grin. “Not at all Mr. Pants, now come on, Ah reckon dinner ain’t gonna order itself.”’

“Right you are Big Macintosh, is there anywhere you wanted venture in particular?”

A grin spread across The farmer pony’s face “Ah reckon I got someplace in mind, if y’all can take a ride on the wild side.”

A certain  bush along the streets of Canterlot currently played stake-out residence for  Photo Finish and Hot Tip, who were currently on the trail of Fancy Pants. While Hot Tip elected to wear the same shirt he wore for three days straight, Photo Finish chose the path of the eccentric and wore an entire dress made from a woodland camouflage pattern and leaves,  topping it off with a beret.

“Did you see zat? 'e just completely blew Fleur off, zat unappreciative--”

“Uh, Doll? Do ya think you could move your leg? There’s not enough room in this bush for the two of us, and I can’t get a good shot. Plus I think you used poison ivy with some of those leaves, cause I gotta tell ya I’m catchin’ a rash the size of my mother’s puss-filled hoof-boils," the reporter said while trying to adjust the focus and zoom on his camera.

Photo Finish recoiled in disgust at the description. “Oh hush you and stop ze complaining. In fact, why don’t you find your own bush? Zis bush ees mine, and you schtink like ze sweat of a hydra! YOU GO!” The fashionista whipped her hoof out of the bush towards the street.

“Not happenin’, Doll,” Hot Tip turned his attention towards his camera and began scrollig through the saved photos. “Anyhow, I think i got some good shots of Mr. Fancy Pants, but who is this?”

“Let me see zat...” Photo Finish snatched the camera away from Hot Tip, and began scrolling through the pictures.

“Hey, not so rough with it, ya might break it, and that camera’s worth a fortune!”

“A fortune on your salary perhaps... I’ve never seen zis stallion before in my life,” She tossed the camera back to Hot Tip before continuing, “but if Fancy Pants finds such a backwoods stallion to be important enough to blow off my Fleur, zen zere must be somezing bigger going on 'ere, no?”

“Hmmm... you make a good point, Ms. Finish.” Stepping out of the bush, Hot tip began flexing and stretching his wings. “The investigation continues for your investigative eye in the sky! Grab on, Doll.”

“Ehh, vat vas zat? I zink I 'ad somezing crazy in mien ears.”

“We’re going to follow them from above, so grab on.”

Photo Finish pondered this for a second before responding “I zink I’ll just trot.”

“C’mon, Doll, they’re gettin’ away.”

“Couldn’t you at least shower first?” A nervous expression began to set into the fashionista’s face.

“No time!” With that, Hot Tip seized Photo finish from the bush, threw his camera into her hooves and took off like a rocket while holding onto her waist, resulting in a high pitched squeal from the fashionista as they continued to climb upwards. Photo Finish would never admit it to anypony but she was deathly afraid of heights.

The intern galloped up just in time to see Hot Tip leap out of a bush and moments later drag Photo Finish out with him

“Mr. Hot Tip, sir, I need to speak with you about recompensing for that-”

Hot Tip shouted “No time!” before grabbing Photo finish and taking off towards the sky.

The intern cursed his bad luck since getting involved this particular reporter and begrudgingly followed the screams of Photo finish that filled the night air.

A scream in the night caught Fancy Pants’ attention “Did you hear something Big Mac?”

“Eenope.”

"Anyhow, I must ask, just where are we?" Fancy Pants gazed at the restaurant before him. With broken windows, holes in the wall that were barely patched with a couple of two-by-fours, and door with broken hinges, no sane buildings inspector would dare to step inside this establishment. "The broken spur?" Broken is right.

"It's a nice place to eat if there ever was one," Big Macintosh replied. "You can get filled up for only a few bits, and it's pretty friendly."

"If you say so," the well-groomed stallion replied, but if Big Macintosh, the most honest pony he'd ever met in his life, said it was a good place to eat who was Fancy Pants to argue? "Lead the way."

Big Macintosh threw open the broken doors, almost knocking them into the air. "Here we are," he gestured in. The inside of the establishment looked no better than the outside. Most of the chairs were broken, leaving ponies to make their orders and eat at the front bar table. "I'm certain you'll have no problem affording this place."

"I must admit, my wallet is the last thing on my mind," Fancy Pants chuckled, his eyes staring at the metal contraption in a far off corner of the restaurant.

"Big Mac!" a thick country voice called out. "It's me! Hayseed Turnip Truck!"

"Oh, hey Hayseed," Big Macintosh replied back. "How's Canterlot treatin' yuh?"

"Oh it's great!" the vanilla pony replied. "Everypony is just so nice here. Why, the other day, this nice fellow gave me a bit just cause he said I need it. Ain't that nice?"

Both Fancy Pants and Big Macintosh looked at each other, knowing exactly what the sentiment of the bit meant. "That's... nice, Hayseed," Big Macintosh replied.

"Gee, Big Mac, you look fancy in your new threads. Where's you get them?"

"Uh," Big Macintosh looked back at his jacket.

"Somepony owed me a favor," Fancy Pants replied.

"Well gee, Mr. Fancy Pants, sir, you sure are generous." Hayseed turned back to Fancy Pants, offering a barbecue-sauce covered hoof to shake.

Fancy Pants took the hoof with a wince, and shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Turnip Truck."

"Oh just call me Hayseed," the slow colt drawled.

"You're fitting in well," Big Macintosh commented. "I had a few doubts about taking you here."

"Is that a challenge I hear?" Fancy Pants replied, vigorously washing his hoof with a disinfecting towel to get rid of the barbecue sauce.

"I just hope you're stomach is ready for some real cooking, nothing frou-frou."

"I was a runny-nosed colt before I was a gentle-stallion, Big Mac. I'm afraid if you're hoping to see a pish-posh pony wince at the sight of barbequed coco leaves, you will be utterly disappointed."

"Good to hear," Big Macintosh replied. "Because it's all you can eat barbecue night."

"Well... that I wasn't expecting that."

An hour later, Fancy Pants found himself face down on a table, a sauce-splattered bib around his neck, and Big Macintosh chuckling to himself. "You did a decent job of keeping up with me, Mr. Pants. Can't say many ponies can do that."

"To think that my ability to consume food is what impresses you, and not my status."

"Why would I be impressed by that?"

"You would be surprised how many ponies care about that," Fancy Pants groaned. "It's almost suffocating. I won't lie, I love fashion, but I just want to do my job, but now my job is taking a back seat to some life," Fancy Pants ranted, all the aches of his life being buoyed to the surface by a flood of barbecue sauce.

"Some life?" Big Macintosh

"Tell me," Fancy Pants wanted to change the subject, "what is that contraption over there?" He motioned to the machine in the corner.

"That's a mechanical bull, Mr. Pants. You put in a bit and then it goes up and down and you try to hang on for as long as you can."

"Then I'll have at it." Fancy Pants sluggishly got up from the bar table.

"Oh shoot!" Hayseed chortled. "Mr. Fancy Pants wants to ride Jesse!"

"Jesse?" Fancy Pants stared at the contraption. "It has a name."

Moments later, Fancy Pants was on the the mechanical bull, bobbing up and down as he tried to stay on the iron nightmare he would later refer to it. Jesse was too unassuming a name for this thing. Around him, a crowd counted off the seconds, anxious to see him fall of his iron horse, or see him break the record.

"Ninety-seven!" they counted, "Ninety-Eight! Ninety-Nine!"

Fancy Pants was thrown off the mechanical bull, landing flat on his stomach in an unseemly prostrated position. "I can't remember the last time I had so much fun!" he cried, his bones aching, muscles sore, and stomach turning.

"You rode that bull pretty well," Big Macintosh told him, helping his friend back on his hooves.

"I can surprise even myself sometimes," Fancy Pants answered, collapsing to the floor again the moment Big Macintosh let go. "Oh dear, I hope I didn't pull something."

"I'll help you home, Mr. Pants. Least I can do after egging you on about fitting in."

"I showed you though."

"Eeyup, you did."

        "This is it," Fancy Pants sighed. "Home sweet home." He turned back to Big Macintosh. "I suppose this is good bye. I've had a blast."

        "Are you feeling better?" Big Macintosh asked.

        "Yes, I am..." And yet, I feel terrible. "Er, Big Macintosh..."

        "Yes?" Big Macintosh replied, staring deep into Fancy Pants' ocean-blue eyes.

Fancy Pants planted a kiss on Big Macintosh’s cheek which warranted a shocked reaction from the farmer pony. “Mr. Pants, what was that all about?”

Fancy Pants hadn’t planned out the kiss, he just let himself go into it, and now he stood facing a mortified Big Macintosh. “Errr... well you see, Big Macintosh, it’s tradition in Canterlot to say goodnight with a kiss on the cheek.”

Big Macintosh looked skittishly to the side for  moment before making eye contact with fancy pants again and responding, “Well, this is how we do it on the farm” Big Macintosh seized Fancy Pants behind the head with his forehooves and drew him in close, placing his lips on Fancy Pants’.

There was an electric sensation in Fancy Pants mind that reverberated throughout his body, making him feel weightless. He closed his eyes and saw fireworks as another rush of hormones took him, and he realised in that moment: this is what he’d been searching for. After all those years of closet misery with Fleur, bearing the weight of Canterlot’s expectations, his inhibitions were finally released with that one kiss. It was as though his happiness had been dammed up and released all at once, but it was over all too quickly as Big Macintosh broke the kiss.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Pants, Ah... Ah... “ Big Macintosh looked as though he were on the verge of a breakdown, still trying to come to terms with what he’d just done.

“No apologies, dear boy,  I rather enjoyed that-”

“But Ms. Fleur, and your reputation, Ah’m sorry, Ah... Ah...”

"It’s quite alright, I assure you- Big Macintosh wait! Don’t go!” The pleas fell on deaf ears as Big Macintosh turned and galloped as quickly as his legs would carry him, while Fancy Pants sank to his haunches and began to weep as well.

Here he’d thought he’d been rescued from the sea of plastic that consumed his life, but  just as quickly as he’d been saved, he was condemned back into its freezing waters, yet again.

Amongst the silence an audible click could be heard, and a certain pegasus reporter and fashionista grinned maliciously from behind a bush.

5: If I Ain't Got You

Disclaimer: This Chapter contains explicit use of “Music”. If you are allergic to the emotion invoking power music, please call a doctor before partaking in this chapter. We don't own anything and never said we did, so don't sue us!

A Midnight Legends Press Production

Charmingly Rustic

Written By: Your Antagonist & Starwind Dood

Edited By: TheWattsMan

Chapter 5: If I Ain’t Got You

I'm here again.Fancy Pants gazed upwards to the tear painted skies of his dream world, waiting for the tears to come down to Canterlot and begin to drown him. Just like every night before. The shadows of the building around him blocked out every shadow of his world. The drops came, like a recording. He predicted everything that came: the buildings moving together, the water level rising, the sky turning that charmingly red haze. "What I would give for an umbrella."

        "Ah've got one we can share, Mr. Pants."

        "What?"

        Big Macintosh smiled at Fancy Pants, a large umbrella strapped to his back. "Rain's comin’."

The first rays of the morning sun poked drearily through the Venetian blinds of Fancy Pants’ penthouse, creeping gradually towards him as he dreamt of a world other than the one he was destined to arise to; no matter how much he wished he could remain in the finite bliss of his fantasies. Sadly, only the dead could sleep forever, and even though he’d trade places with them in an instant to escape from the nightmares that plagued his life for the past three days, his body demanded a reprieve from his obstinately lethargic behavior as of late.

He clenched his eyes reflexively as the first beams of sunlight reached his face, bringing forth an unwanted awareness to the waking world. His body betrayed him and played accomplice to the sun by forcing unwanted hunger pangs upon him. Oatmeal can only hold the body together for so long. “Fine... you win,” he said to nopony in particular as he begrudgingly anchored a hoof to the end of his mattress and physically pulled himself out of bed.

He sat up and dragged a hoof down his face, matting his mane to his forehead, deciding to endure the torture of hunger for just a while longer as trudged towards his bathroom, seeking cleansing relief that only a shower could provide. Every step he landed on his right hoof caused him to wince in pain due to the sheer force of the blow he landed on Hot Tip’s snout. It had been a week since then, but he had never gotten the hoof properly checked. Next time—ow—I’ll make sure to—ow—hold back some.

He slumped into the bathroom, stepped into the bathtub after turning the hot water all the way up, and sat down pensively as he allowed the water to wash over him and remove three days worth of body odor, filth, and tears. Each drop brought with it a thousand negative thoughts that assaulted his mind, each thought bringing with it a pang of sorrow and regret fueled further by self-ridicule for allowing his life to fall to such a low point due to his carelessness. Fifteen minutes of the torture elapsed, and he finally ended the abuse by shutting off the water. Stepping out of the tub, his horn lighting up with magic that enveloped his whole body, pulling away all of the drops of water that clung to his fur.

I may as well be dressed before I subject myself to the hell that awaits me outside. With a sigh, he began trotting towards his wardrobe room to outfit himself in his usual suit jacket.He didn’t bother looking in the mirror to double check his appearance, he reasoned that if he wanted to see himself, he’d just turn his television to a local news station as they took his reputation and dragged it deeper into the mud. Just the other day he was accused of having three other male lovers, two of whom were conjoined zebra twins, the other being a donkey, and Fleur de Lis guest starred on almost every talk show program directly after. He mused to himself what a blatant lie they’d attached to his life’s story today as he made his way to the front door of his penthouse.

I’ve come this far, I may as well commit. He hesitantly reached a hoof towards the handle of the door and jerked it away just as quickly. Opening that door would compromise the sense of security he’d built in here for the past three days. This was his fortress, his bastion from the outside world, he was protected from their harsh opinions, and yet... he still had a job to do. At the very least, being his own boss meant that he didn't need to worry about being fired.

He threw himself back into the outside world, nothing but his own hide to protect himself. He kept his ears piqued for the sudden rush of hoofsteps. Just what am I in store for today? He picked up his pace, hoping to avoid the mass of tabloid insanity, a feat which was beyond him with his sore hoof.

Soon, they were upon him. A mass of cameras, snapping his picture from various vantage points and shadows. Fancy Pants felt cornered, and he only had one way of escaping. With a flash of his horn, Fancy Pants winked off. He didn't have any place in mind when he whisked off, which is considered very dangerous, yet he found himself somewhere his mind always wandered to.

"This is where I first winked off with Big Macintosh," he sighed before trotting off.

Fancy Pants slowly dragged himself into his own emporium, a place he might hope would act as a second fortress against the maelstrom of prying hooves trying to tear into every inch of his life. He looked around the room, noting the one thing he might have left in this fickle world: his suits. "You won't run out on me, right?" he asked half-heartedly . Upon closer inspection, he realized his inventory was running low. "Assistant!"

"Sir!" a young white unicorn with an orange mane appeared at his side. "You called?"

Fancy Pants gave the assistant a casual pat on the shoulder before he continued. "Yes my boy. Send a letter to Hoity Toity; we're running low on inventory."

"Actually, sir, Hoity Toity said he wasn't going to do business with us now... sir."

Fancy Pants sighed. Hoity Toity's opinion of the same-sex couples was neither a secret nor nice. I should have guessed this would happen. "Then I'll need to start looking for another supplier, it seems."

“Zere ees no need for zat, Fancy Pants,” called an irkingly familiar voice from behind.

Fancy Pants grit his teeth as two of the last ponies he would ever want to see just waltzed into his store. He hid his disdain for them behind an eerily false smile, turning to greet the source. "Hello, Photo Finish," he said, venom dripping from his voice.

An ecstatic Photo Finish danced into the store wearing her usual dress and a smirk, with solemn-faced Fleur De Lis in tow. “Hello, Fancy,”Fleur de Lis spat at Fancy Pants.

Fancy Pants grimaced for a moment, keeping himself from attacking Photo Finish and composed himself to face the mares who began to circle him like sharks on a bleeding tuna. “Fleur, Photo, as lovely and conniving as ever I see. So, how goes the continued besmirching of my reputation?”

“Oh, ve ‘ave just started with you, Fancy Pants. You may ‘ave been able to avoid us for zree days, but now zat we’ve found you, we’re going to give you an ultimatum: make a public apology and admit zat you are a theiving, mare manipulating, talentless hack, and I might not release these photos of you eloping with Prince Blueblood.”

        "Really, Blueblood?" Fancy Pants scoffed, punctuating his disgust by sticking out his tongue. "If you're going to incriminate me, at least match me with a pony of taste, but, then again, I guess you wouldn't know what taste is."

        "Vould you prefer a colt?" Photo Finish spat back, prompting a look of disgust from Fancy Pants. "You only have yourself to blame."

        "You're right. I had no idea the world of fashion was composed of nothing but leeches." Fancy Pants stepped up to Photo Finish, letting his proud and intimidating size talk for him, imposing on the snide mare that he wanted her out of his sight. "So, are you going to leave, or should I escort you out, the hard way?"

        "And zen vat?" Photo Finish shot back, not backing down to Fancy Pants, who didn't have an answer.

        "Just give up, Fancy Pants," Fleur de Lis added. "You're playing a game you can't win."

        "That's because I'm not cheating." Fancy Pants turned to Fleur de Lis, who did jump a little to the sudden shift. "Telling everypony I'm a lousy ‘performer’? Really, I thought you were better than that."

        "You're quite mistaken."

        "Quite right, you're just another marionette at the whims of some master. Just try and enjoy your life, Fleur de Lis, because it's not going to be a happy one." Fancy Pants glared disapprovingly at the mare he once called his fillyfriend, and he could see her begin to balk under him. She wasn't a strong pony, and he knew that. "You'll just be at the whims of--"

        "Enough of zis!" Photo Finish interrupted him. "I came here to give you a choice."

        "I made my choice!" Fancy Pants shouted at her, struggling to keep his boiling rage under control. "I am not going to make any such false declarations. Go ahead, release the photo. I imagine Blue Blood will have a field day with you in court. If you want to make the royal family your enemy then by my guest."

        Photo Finish paused, not expecting Fancy Pants to be so resilient. "It matters not," she finally said. "Pictures can be spliced anyway, and all of Canterlot knows you're a colt-cuddler--"

        "Don't say it."

"Vat? Colt cuddler?"

        "I said," Fancy Pants hissed, "don't say it."

        "Oh, zis is perfect," Photo Finish laughed, almost falling over from the laughter she was consuming herself in. "You're 'ashamed. Vat a pathetic sight you are, colt-cuddler."

        "Honey," a new voice called to Photo Finish, who turned to address the voice.

        "I am not honey," Photo Finish spat. Sapphire Shores' grimacing face was the last thing Photo Finish saw before the pop-star slugged her across the face, leaving Photo Finish convulsing on the floor and holding her snout. "Vat vas that!" she shouted.

        Sapphire smirked and turned to the numerous reporters, photographers, and groupies behind her. "Have the headlines say something like 'Sapphire gleams photographer', baby!" She turned to Fancy Pants and grabbed him around a foreleg, pulling him closer. "Be sure to capture my good side as I run off with Fancy Pants now. Make the next paper... SE-E-EN-SATIONAL, OW!" She winked, bat down on Fancy Pants' tail, and ran off, pulling Fancy Pants away with more strength than he ever gave her credit for before.

        "Ms. Shores!?" Fancy Pants babbled as the scenery raced past him, barely registering what had just happened. "What are you doing?"

        "What I always do, baby, cheering up one of my adoring fans!"

Fan? No. Adoring? Hardly... Fancy Pants thought as Sapphire pulled him further and further away towards the boutique. “Where are we going anyhow, Ms. Shores, and you’re more than welcome to drop me any— OOF!” Sapphire had dragged Fancy Pants over a rock, “time you know. I’m perfectly capable of moving by myself!”

“Uh-uh, baby, you might try to escape, and I’m tryin’ to help you face your problem straight on! We’re going to Canterlot Gardens, actually we’re already here,” Sapphire explained as she released Fancy Pants’ tail.

Fancy Pants rose to his hooves unsteadily and shook out all of the discomfort that had accumulated itself during the “ride”. His ears picked up on whispers and talking, and he turned to come face to face with a mass of ponies, crowded and huddled around a stage covered with a giant curtain, waiting eagerly for something.

“Follow me Fancy, or else we’ll be late, and my assistant just hates tardiness,” Sapphire said as she strutted off towards the stage.

Late? Stage? Me? Sapphire Shores? "Ms. Shores, I have to ask if you've lost more of your mind? You're asking me to follow you out onto a stage?"His addled mind struggled with the erratic thought process of Sapphire Shores.

"Don't make me repeat myself, Fancy Baby." Sapphire Shores grabbed him around his shoulders and forcibly dragging him onto the stage and roaring crowd. "Oh, this is going to be one for the world."

"You are insane, truly insane!" Fancy Pants yelled as his heart almost stopped, all eyes were focused on him. Oh dear...

"Oh, baby, don't be an amateur," Sapphire Shores laughed as she strutted to the microphone, ready to welcome her ponies to what was going to be her favourite concert yet.

The gazes of all of the ponies in the crowd below began boring into Fancy Pants’ very being, as Sapphire spoke, “Hello everypony, how are you doing today?” Her voice boomed across the garden, and a response of cheering that was twice as loud as Sapphires' introduction emanated from the crowd below. “That’s what I like to hear! Now, You all may be wondering why I’ve decided to hold a free concert debuting some of my newest songs before a huge tour. Well, to answer that question please turn your attention to this very handsome stallion to my left.”

The crowd once again fixed their collective attention upon Fancy Pants, and he began to feel as nervous as ever. Sure, he could handle the occasional paparazzi swarm, being interviewed on national television even, but being in front of a crowd this massive due to the current condition of his life and his reputation, brought with him a case of wracked nerves that would give any less-composed pony a migraine. I hope she knows what she’s doing...

“This is my good friend Fancy Pants, and he's been having a pretty bad week. I'm sure y'all know about the going-ons and rumors happening here in Canterlot? Fancy's life here, has been a wreck, and why? Well, he kissed a stallion, and he liked it. So this is for him, and anypony else out there who kissed a pony and liked it. It don't matter if you like stallions or mares or anything in-between. We all only got one life to live to the highest! So, I'm asking you all now, everypony, to remember the one thing that binds us together! That makes Equestria such a magical place! Friendship and love. So give the pony next to you a hug, baby, and don't feel ashamed if you like it. It's okay to be anypony you want to be, and that means even if you're gay." The crowd cheered for Sapphire Shores, and even Fancy Pants. “And now, without further ado, I’m bringin’ back old school, baby!” Sapphire turned towards the curtain behind her and nodded; just as quickly the curtain split in two and revealed an all earth pony band consisting of a drummer, a guitarist, bassist, three female background singers on similar microphones to Sapphire’s, and one pony on a trumpet. As Sapphire shouted “This one’s for you, Fancy-baby! Hit it!” the guitar and trumpet paved the way into the song and were soon accompanied by the drums, and the background singers chimed in with the bassist.

“I’m Com-ing Out! I want the world to know, got to let it show!”

Ponies in the crowd began dancing, and as they were overtaken by the rhythm the background singers belted out the second repetition.

“I’m Com-ing Out! I want the world to know, got to let it show!”

Sapphire turned to Fancy Pants and winked at him before she began singing her verse to the song.

“There’s a new me coming out, and I just have to live, I just wanna give, I’m completely positive! And I think this time around, I am gonna do it, like you never knew it, oh I’ll make it through! The time has come for me to break out of my shell, and I have got to shout that I am coming out!”

As Sapphire sang the chorus with the background singers, Fancy Pants soaked in every word of the song, taking the lyrics to heart, and realized that there was no reason to fret over something silly like his reputation if it meant having to sacrifice his own happiness. He looked out to the crowd of cheering and dancing ponies and noticed something about them as he watched an orange earth pony, and a rainbow maned pegasus near the front share a kiss: They were mostly same-sex couples.

"Fancy Pants! You rock!" A sea green unicorn shouted out, her candy maned lover clinging onto her with adoration and contentment playing across her features. She turned around, to address the large red stallion behind her. "Is that him, Big Mac?"

"That he is, Lyra," Big Macintosh replied back.

"He don't look so bad," Big Macintosh's cousin, Braeburn, placed a hoof on his shoulder, encouraging him forward, behind him an awkward looking buffalo cow on one side of him and a orange topped mare on the other, looking territorially at the other. "Go get him, cousin." his cousin and the buffalo pushed him forward.

"Cousin, isn't this too forward!" Big Macintosh protested.

"We didn't come all this way to hold back!" Braeburn and Little Strongheart nearly tossed Big Macintosh onto the stage with one last push.

Sapphire grinned at the scene unfolding before her as she began singing  the second verse: I’ve got show the world all that I want to be and all of my abilities, there’s so much more to me! Somehow I’ll have to make them, just understand, I’ve got it well in hand, and oh how I have planned! I’m spreadin’ love there is no need to fear, and I just feel so good evertime I hear!

Sweetie Belle watched as Big Macintosh was nearly thrown onto the stage "Sis, what’s going on with Mr. Macintosh?”

Pipsqueak spoke up from next to Sweetie Belle “Yes, Ms. Rarity, why are they all pushing him to the stage?”

Rarity blushed and realized she’d never explained to her sister the concept of same sex couples. “Well, you see, it’s... um... Mr. Macintosh feels the same way about that stallion... umm... well, the way you two feel about each other.”

Sweetie Belle spoke up and voiced her opinions on the subject “So Mr. Macintosh is that stallion’s ‘knight’? Is that stallion a princess then?” She inquired while wrapping one her forelegs around one of Pipsqueak’s, causing the pinto colt to blush under his fur.

Rarity smiled and laughed at her sister’s response before continuing “In a manner of speaking, yes to both of those.”

“That’s really sweet, I think every princess should have a knight!” Sweetie Belle shouted enthusiastically while pulling Pipsqueak closer as Pipsqueak’s red only intensified in color that could rival a tomato.

Rarity sighed, relieved that she had explained the concept of homosexuality to her sister and was met with positive results. “That’s right Sweetie Belle, now watch and you’ll see something wonderful happen.”

Big Macintosh finally made it onto the stage, staring deep into Fancy Pants' eyes as the music hit the breakdown riff. "Hello, Mr. Pants."

        "Good evening, Big Mac." Fancy Pants felt his heart begin to flutter as reality finally came up on him. Here he was, the stallion of his dreams, being cheered on by hundreds of ponies, as some of the most beautiful music he’d ever heard played. "You're back."

        "Ah... Ah forgot something here. Something important." Big Macintosh took a deep breath, trying to tune out his sister and cousin's cheering. "Ah forgot you. Mr. Pants... Ah... Ah love you."

        "Big Macintosh, I love you too." I said it. "And... I don't care what anypony has to say."

        "Neither do I." Big Macintosh and Fancy Pants came together at last, nuzzling each other's neck a moment that would last both forever and not long enough.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" the crowd cheered. Ponies everywhere cheered for the two, and for many Fancy Pants and Big Macintosh became a symbol. A symbol that love can blossom regardless of status in life, regardless of where we were born, and regardless of gender. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

"I think they're waiting on you, Fancy Baby," Sapphire Shores egged him on. "Give him some sugar."

        "This is hardly my style," Fancy Pants laughed. "Kissing somepony, anypony for that matter, in front of so many."

        "I can't say I'm comfortable with it either," Big Macintosh laughed as he scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

        "Just do it, you big lug!" Applejack yelled out.

        "Well... if you don't mind, Mr. Pants." Big Macintosh turned to Fancy Pants, smiling with embarrassment.

        "No, I don't mind." They leaned forward to each other, and met each other's lips in the second true kiss Fancy Pants had ever made in his entire life: a kiss full of passion, warmth, courage, and love.

Chapter 5 End.

Epilogue

A Midnight Legends Press Production

Charmingly Rustic

Written By: Your Antagonist & Starwind Dood

Edited By: TheWattsMan

Epilogue(s)

        "Istallion Roast, please," Fleur de Lis ordered.

        "At once, madam," the waiter replied, shuffling away.

        It had been a couple of weeks since she broke ties with Fancy Pants after that almost fateful article appeared in the newspaper, and her life was almost back in order, aside from a lack of a love life, even with dealing with Photo Finish's spiteful eccentricities. She magically levitated the morning paper before her, hoping to get her mind off of herself.

        "Your coffee, madam," the waiter interrupted her.

        "Oh, thank you." Fleur de Lis took the cup, taking a sip as she read the headline of the paper. Sapphire Shores Serenades Same-Sexes With New Hit Single. She spat out her coffee, drenching her waiter. "I-I apologise," Fleur de Lis quickly said as she scanned the article, finding a picture of Fancy Pants and the red stallion he was with before in the middle of a rather deep kiss. "He never kissed me like that," she mused. "Can I get a refill on this?"

        "At once, madam," the water winced, trying to maintain an image of professionalism despite his now coffee-splattered mane and apron.

        Fleur de Lis returned to the article, detailing the events of the concert from the huge turnout from the LGBT communities across Equestria, and the entire thing was free and open to the public. "Sapphire is as mad as ever," Fleur de Lis commented, only for the next line to read that, the following morning, Sapphire Shores' CDs were sold out across the world. "Mad and brilliant."

        Her eyes wandered back to the picture of Fancy Pants and Big Macintosh, their kiss captured for eternity. "I guess you always were one to bounce back, Fancy Pants." She found that, with so much time between then and now, her rage had evaporated quickly. So quickly she even regretted some of the things she said against him. Still, it was a game she had to play with Photo Finish to continue her career. She doubted that anypony within the fashion industry would find fault in what she had to do since they've all had to say something at some point they came to regret. "I suppose they do look good together."

Sapphire Shores currently found herself in a carriage in the heart of the Zebra Kingdom. This was her first time being so far way from home since her tour on the continent of Neighsia, and she was absolutely enthralled to perform in front of a foreign crowd again, as well as the opportunity to debunk some “rumors” about stallions from the zebra continent first-hoof. She looked out the window and spotted a particularly delicious specimen and playfully licked her lips in anticipation. Maybe they are “bigger” over here, I guess I’ll find out tonight, She thought to herself.

Turning away from the window, her eyes fell on the most recent issue of the Canterlot Chronicler which had a picture of Fancy Pants and Big Macintosh kissing, and a sudden impulsive thought rushed through her mind. I wonder if I could play on the other side of the fence... Her eyes fell on her agent who was snout-deep in a stack of contracts and papers. Sapphire stood up and moved to the other side of the carriage to sit with her agent, who wore her mane in a ponytail as well as a pair of librarian glasses. The diva watched her assistant quite intently, waiting for some form of acknowledgement.

The assistant finally felt Sapphire’s gaze upon her and turned to address her client. “Oh, I’m sorry Ms. Shores, did you need anythi—MMPH!” Sapphire had seized her agents head with her forehooves, and planted a long, intense kiss on the other mare’s lips, even probing the inside of her assistant's mouth slightly with her tongue. The kiss was held for about three seconds before the agent broke contact with Sapphire and stared in an appalled fashion at her client. “Wha... I... huh?”

Sapphire registered the sensations for  moment before responding “Oooooh, that was SE-E-EN- SATIONAL! But Sapphire Shores needs a stallion to quench her burning desire, baby.  Hope this doesn’t complicate things between us honey.”

The agent only wore a confused expression as she watched Sapphire dance back to the other side of the carriage and pass out sleeping. Wordlessly, the agent put all her papers in a briefcase, closed the blinds in the carriage, and walked over to sapphire before removing her glasses and the band holding her her hair in a ponytail, allowing her mane to fall straight as she said quietly, “Well, it’s only going to get more complicated from here, Ms. Shores.”

Photo Finish was finally discharged from Canterlot General Hospital a day after Sapphire Shores cleaned her clock at Fancy Pants’ Boutique. Photo’s snout wasn’t broken, but Sapphire had left a few fractures in the bone as a parting gift. It was a small matter to the photographer though; at least she’d gotten her model back from that wretched Fancy Pants, but she was disappointed that her efforts to ruin his image were all in vain after Sapphire Shores’ concert spread the message of same-sex tolerance. Fortunately, her reputation received no backlash.

With a sigh and a grimace, she remembered working with that disgusting, unwashed, coffee addicted pegasus, and—as much as it pained her to say it—she missed him. Normally Photo’s day-by-day routine consisted of yelling at sub-par models, incompetent lackeys and stressing herself out, leaving no time for fun. But her her short time with Hot Tip left her with a thirst for more adventure, and companionship.

“I suppose I should go and see ze foolishly foolish fool, e’s probably still in zat office wasting away on coffee—” Photo Finish ceased her thought as a handsome white Pegasus stallion strolled past her, and captivated her attention. “Zen again, zere’s nozing wrong with personal interest, ees there?” She inquired to nopony in particular as she galloped after him shouting “Vait, vait! You, who are you? You have— Ze Magicks! We go and grab coffee, yes?”

“Oh, well I’m—”

“Nevermind zat, we go!” Photo Finish grabbed the stallion’s tail with her mouth and dragged him away in the direction of a nearby cafe. Zat reporter can wait a little longer, I zink!

Hot Tip glared at the bathtub before him “Hello shower, we meet again. What’s it been now, four, maybe five days? Whatever, let’s just get this over with so I can get back to the office.” The gray pegasus reached and begrudgingly gripped the hot water handle and turned it up all the way, waiting to see the rise of steam before stepping into the searing hot waters.

Hot Tip’s bath tub wasn’t exactly pristine, but it wasn’t as filthy as the stallion who was about to utilize it either, however, the moment the searing waters touched his fur, the bottom of the tub was almost immediately coated in a gritty substance that resembled wet sand. He paid it no mind though as he stepped even deeper into the stream of water, allowing more of the filth to be removed from his fur. Ten minutes and two bottles of shampoo later, he emerged from the now mostly darkened tub and wandered over to the mirror, observing his coat’s normal white coloring.

After a visit to his wardrobe, he adorned himself with a clean white dress-shirt before heading to the kitchen and fetching himself a coffee thermos. With his precious brew in tow, he flew out his kitchen window and landed in the busy Canterlotian streets below, and began trotting his way to the Canterlot Chronicler main office. He strolled past the hospital, since it was on his usual route to the newspaper’s headquarters anyway, and ceased moving as somepony began calling to him from behind. “Vait, vait! You, who are you? You have— Ze Magicks! We go and grab coffee, yes?”

Hot Tip’s eyes fell on Photo Finish who looked as though she genuinely did not recognize him. His lips curled into a smirk, as he realized that she didn’t realize who he was due to the fact that his coat and feathers were no longer gray, and he attempted explain this to Photo before furthering the conversation. “Oh, well I’m—”

“Nevermind zat, we go!” Hot Tip was taken by surprise when Photo Finish seized his tail and began dragging him through the streets. With a grin slowly overtaking his face, he thought to himself, Maybe I’ll just keep it to myself for now... actually this could make a pretty good headline: Famed Fashionista Photo Finish Falls For Average Joe.

Fancy Pants and Big Macintosh sneezed simultaneously, which warranted estranged stares and a slight chuckle from Applejack, which contributed more awkwardness to an already awkward situation.  Currently, Fancy Pants, Big Macintosh, Applejack and Rainbow Dash found themselves sitting around a picnic table absolutely filled up with some of the most delicious pastries to ever come out of the kitchen of the Apple family household, solely because Granny Smith was absolutely ecstatic to hear that both her grandson and granddaughter had finally found a significant other, respectively. The only problem was that Granny Smith was still under the pretense that Big Macintosh had gotten together with Rainbow Dash, and Applejack had snagged herself “one of them fancy noble types.”

Big Macintosh cleared his throat and look around at everypony else for reassurance, and the other three nodded. With a sigh he turned his attention to the beaming face of Granny Smith, who was still under the impression that the reason the mares were sitting on one side of the table and the stallions were on the other was so they could play footsies with their counterparts. “Ahem, uhh... Granny?” Big Macintosh said with a nervous inflection creeping into his tone.

“Yes, Mac? Would you and yer filly friend like some more Zap Apple Jam toast?”  Granny replied, still wearing that innocent smile.

Rainbow Dash cast an uncomfortable glance at Fancy Pants, who returned the look in full, before Applejack spoke up. “Umm, Granny, Rainbow Dash isn’t Big Mac’s fillyfriend.”

Granny Smith’s eyes narrowed and her grin fell slightly, but still maintained itself on her face. “What do you mean by that?”

Big Macintosh swallowed hard and attempted to shed some more light on the situation “Granny, Ah ain’t datin’  Rainbow Dash, and Apple Jack isn’t datin’ Mr. Pants over here.”

“So lemme git this straight, you two brought them,” Granny Smith gestured towards Fancy Pants and Rainbow Dash, “to me fer my approval on them datin’ each other? Land’s sakes kids, why would I care?”

“That’s not quite right either Granny,” said Applejack as she rubbed her neck awkwardly.

“Wait a minute... If you ain’t with her...” Granny Smith gestured to Big Macintosh and Rainbow Dash, “And if you ain’t with him...” Granny Smith gestured to Applejack and Fancy Pants, “And you two ain’t getting hitched...” She now eyed Rainbow Dash and Fancy Pants suspiciously “Then that means...” Everypony at the table gulped hard as Granny Smith finally put the pieces to the puzzle together. A loud and exasperated gasp signified that Granny’s train of thought finally pulled into the station “Applejack, Big Macintosh, You cain’t fall in love with each other, it ain’t natural to reproduce with yer family!! Well, I guess it is, because yer cousin Caramel and—”

“Granny! Ah ain’t datin AJ! Ah’m datin’ him!” Big Macintosh pointed his hoof at Fancy Pants, and Applejack draped a foreleg around Rainbow Dash’s shoulder and pulled her in as well.

Granny Smith’s mouth hung open, still hanging on to the last word of the disturbing story of family inbreeding she was about to divulge. Everypony sat at the table in suspense, wondering how she would react.

After another moment of her stagnant silence, Granny Smith looked back and forth between the two couples, before finally turning to Rainbow Dash with narrowed eyes, saying “I always knew you were a filly-fooler, since the moment I saw yer mane.”

Rainbow Dash reacted immediately “Hey! What the buck is that supposed to mean, you old—” Applejack’s hoof had found its way into Rainbow’s mouth, silencing the cyan pegasus before she said anything that might’ve crossed Granny’s line.

“Granny, you’re okay with this?” Applejack asked

“I reckon it won’t be the first time it’s happened in this family, and it certainly won’t be the last. At least you ain’t gonna mount yer sister Mac, though I cain’t say I fancy the idea of you and another stallion too much either. I cain’t change who you are, but I can and will love and support yer decisions since you’re family. Sides, I was a filly-fooler when I was younger myself, must run in the family or somethin’. Guess that means Applebloom’s next on the choppin’ block; I’ve noticed she’s gettin’ awful friendly with that little orange pegasus...”

Epilogue End.

4: Lonely In The Rain

A Midnight Legends Press Production

Charmingly Rustic

Written By: Your Antagonist & Starwind Dood

Edited By: TheWattsMan

Chapter 4: Lonely in the Rain

Outside the Chief Editor’s office of the Canterlot Chronicler, Photo Finish and Hot Tip stood with grins on their faces and the breakthrough story of the year in their hooves. All they needed to do was put it through Chief Deus ex Machina, and they would reap the rewards of their snooping come the morning edition of the paper.

“This is gonna be all over the news for weeks! I’ll probably get a promotion outta this! Who woulda guessed that Canterlot’s own Fancy Pants was a colt-cuddler?” Hot Tip said enthusiastically.

“I vish I could see ze look on Fancy Pants’ face when ‘e finds out tomorrow. Ahhh, but ze backlash to ‘is reputation will be like music to mein ears,” Photo Finish mused.

“Hold on a second, doll, we still have to get the story to pass the chief’s scrutiny.”

“Vat, are you kidding me? A story zis big, would be in zat rag in ten seconds flat.”

“Yeah, I guess you got a good point there, doll.” Without another word, Hot Tip knocked on the office door, and moments later it swung open to reveal the kindly faced Chief.

“Hot Tip, Ms.Finish, how are you? Please come in, and take a seat.”

“Don’t mind if we do chief,” Hot Tip replied, pulling up a comfortable chair for himself and Photo Finish.

“Did you find anything newsworthy about Fancy Pants?”

“And then some.”

“Well, it’ll make for a great morning edition tomorrow then. Great work, Hot Tip!”

Hot Tip shot the chief a look of disapproval and shook his head. “Chief, I think you may want this one to go out with today’s edition.”

“But we’ve already finished today’s issue, and it’s to be delivered in two hours.”

“Zen you vill just ‘ave to rewrite it, yes?” Photo finish suggested.

“What could be so important that we’d have to delay the release of the morning edition?”

Hot Tip stood and trotted over to the chief —who gagged after catching a whiff of Hot Tip’s now four day old body odor— and began scrolling through the camera’s memory. Hot Tip knew he was about to get what he wanted when the chief’s eyes went wide like dinner plates.

In mere moments, the chief snatched Hot Tip’s camera and dashed out the office screaming down the halls. “Stop the bucking presses! We have our new top story! Let’s move lively with this one people, this one is sure to boost sales ten-fold!”

The meek voice of a reporter could be heard be heard as it interrupted the chief’s hysteria, “But sir, what about the story I wrote on the Royal Bird sanctuary finally being opened to the public?”

“Birds suck! I’ve got a front-page story right here!”

It's raining. Fancy Pants found himself out in the dead of night. He was tired, out of breath. What am I doing? All around him the spires and towers of Canterlot were growing, and the rain fell harder. He looked down at his hooves, and he saw the water rising on him. I'm going to drown! He looked around, desperate for higher ground, but he was locked in by the growing towers. He was nearly submerged, holding his hoof out to a crimson sky. "Help!" he cried, "Help!" The world disappeared.

Fancy Pants opened his eyes, his fur clinging to his body from the cold sweat of the nightmare. "I'm... alive," he sighed. Alive and back in this wretched role. He looked to his side, and found that Fleur De Lis was not next to him; he was alone in the bed. A clock on the other side of him told him that it was almost afternoon. He got out of bed, dragging his sore body and swollen eyes to the bathroom, praying to Celestia that a shower might rejuvenate his weary soul.

His body cleansed, Fancy Pants dragged himself to the kitchen, where Fleur De Lis sat, her forearms crossed, and a newspaper unfolded in front of her, reading 'Colt-Cuddling Cobbler Caught in the Act: Fancy Pants Exposed'. "You have some gall!" Fleur De Lis instantly started on Fancy Pants.

Fancy Pants felt all the blood drain out of his face. He tried to calm himself, taking deep breaths to get some feeling back in his voice before he addressed her. "I have gall now?"

"Yes!" Fleur De Lis yelled at him. "Do you have any idea what this has done to my reputation!? I'm a victim in all this! No agency is going to want to hire the model that Fancy Pants threw away in favor of a stallion!" she fumed, directing all her ire at Fancy Pants, who stood there, awaiting his judgement.

"I... I..." Fancy Pants tried to form some semblance of a comeback, if only to defend himself, but in his mind hew knew this was just the start: all of Canterlot knew now. They knew he kissed a stallion and he liked it, but to him it wasn't just any stallion: it was that stallion. "What do you want from me?" he pleaded.

"I want you to be a little more considerate of the feelings of others, Fancy Pants," Fleur De Lis responded before storming out of the suite, tears in her eyes.

Fancy Pants stood there for a minute before yelling into the air, "Considerate of others?! What about me! My life is a bloody joke! Screw you!" He was seething with a complicated mix of anger and anguish. "Now what do I do?" he asked himself. "My life... is over."

Rarity was cooking breakfast in the kitchen of Carousel Boutique when she heard a familiar thump at the door, indicating her copy of the Canterlot Chronicler had arrived —though it was an hour later than usual. Thinking nothing of it, she called out to her sister, “Sweetie Belle, be a dear and stir these grits for a moment, would you?”

“Coming, sis!” Sweetie Belle galloped into the kitchen, but slipped on a rug and skidded across the floor into a shelf, causing Rarity to wince. Without acknowledging any pain, the filly trotted up to Rarity, who gave her younger sister a stool to stand on while she stirred.

“Sweetie Belle?”

“Yes, sis?”

“Please just stir that, don’t use any of mother’s cooking advice, whatever you do, okay?”

“Got it, sis!”

I doubt that highly, but no matter: I must be kept informed of the happenings in Canterlot! Rarity opened the door of the boutique, allowing the sun to shine through and fill her vision.

It’s going to be a beautiful day, maybe I should take Sweetie Belle and Opalescence out to the park. Looking down, Rarity noticed the newspaper and levitated it up to her eye level so she could read it. From the moment her eyes fell upon the initial headline, she knew all of her plans for the day were going to be scrapped in favor of town-wide gossip.

“Sweetie Belle, turn off the stove and have some cereal for breakfast! Something has come up, and I must go to Sweet Apple Acres!”

“Okay, sis!” As she listened for the sound of the front door closing and hoofbeats leading away from the house, a spry grin crept onto Sweetie Belle’s face as she dug through a drawer in the counter and found one of her mother’s hoof-written recipe books.

“Grits...grits...grits... here it is! Turn the stove temperature up to five hundred degrees, use lots of jalapeno peppers, chipotle, and onions while stirring violently.” Never one to question her mother’s teachings, Sweetie Belle set out to create the best possible breakfast for her big sister ever.

Hoity Toity groaned to himself: He needed to have the next fall line ready soon, and an afternoon of designing had amounted to little more than rags in his eyes. "Why can't I design anything!" he yelled into thin air. Deciding to take a break, Hoity Toity left his studio, hoping to find a distraction to calm his frazzled mind.

In front of his boutique, he found the latest issue of the Canterlot Chronicler shoved into his mailbox. He took the newspaper and tucked it under a foreleg, idly trotting to the nearest cafe.

"Welcome to Café Rosa Caballo Loco," the barista greeted Hoity Toity. "What can I get for you?"

"A cup of your finest," Hoity Toity replied, "I'll be at reading the paper at the booths." His order taken care of, he trotted over to an aisle of booths and sat himself down. "So what's going on in Canterlot?"

Ten minutes later, the barista approached Hoity Toity, balancing a large tray with a single tiny cup of tea set atop it. "Your order, sir."

"Thank you," Hoity Toity replied, taking the cup. "Can you do me a favor and stand there for a minute?"

"Of course," the barista replied, "but whatever for?"

"Just stand." Hoity Toity took a sip of his tea, turned his newspaper back to the front page, and spat his tea at the barista. "Thank you."

"No problem," the barista groaned.

Sapphire Shores’ agent stood outside the door of her client’s penthouse. “Ms. Shores, the new issue of the Canterlot Chronicler is here, and please hurry up; you are running late! The recording session in less than an hour!” She cried.

“Just a minute!” sang a voice from inside. Moments later, the door opened to reveal Sapphire Shores in all of her gaudy glory.

“That took you long enough, Ms. Shores. I don’t think we’ll have enough time for breakfast if we want to get there in time, besides, I don’t think they’ll wait for—”

“Honey, of course they’ll wait. We’re talking about the Sapphire Shores here,” Sapphire interjected pridefully.

“Did... did you just refer to yourself in the third person, Ms. Shores?”

“That’s not important right now. Now let me see that paper.” Sapphire snatched the newspaper from her assistant and began scanning the front page. Her eyes grew wide, a slight blush played across her features, and she giggled slightly as she soaked in the top story. She somehow knew from the moment she saw those two yesterday something like this might happen.

“Do you know what you’re going to be recording today, Ms. Shores?”

A sudden burst of inspiration hit Sapphire as she read more of the article. “I do now: I need you to get me a pen, some paper, and some breakfast about nowish. I’ll be waiting for you in the carriage, and don’t be late,”  the diva said with a smirk, as she trotted towards the elevator, leaving the assistant dumbfounded by the irony of that last statement.

Big Macintosh trotted into the estate at Sweet Apple Acres, swollen-eyed from crying during the entire trip home from Canterlot. He snuck into the foyer attempting to avoid his family members, so it must have been a lingering act of Discord that Rarity of all ponies would find him.

"Good afternoon, darling," she greeted him with her characteristic vocabulary.

"R-Rarity?" Big Macintosh stuttered. "W-what are you doin' here?"

        "Why, waiting for you, of course!" she replied, grinning in a way that made him and him alone feel uncomfortable. "In one evening you've gone and become the talk of Canterlot; I'm almost jealous."

"Miss Rarity, what are you talking about?" Big Macintosh inquired, growing fearful.

"I guess you don't know, but you're front page news!" Rarity suspended a newspaper before him, the top story’s headline read clear as day.

"What!?" Big Macintosh felt his heart almost stop. I-I, what have I done!?

"I do admit, it comes to a bit of a shock that you're into stallions, but-" Rarity turned to find she was alone in the room. "Big Macintosh? Where did you go?"

Big Macintosh sat against the door of his room, his hulking weight the perfect lock against anypony. His mind was racing from thought to thought, trying to form some rationalization that would make the world the same as it was before that fateful trip to Canterlot. I just kissed him. It's not that weird. Like, just a friend kiss, but now it's all over Canterlot and they're saying things like I enjoyed it. He brought his hooves to his lips. But I did enjoy it, but he's just a friend. Big Macintosh stared up at the ceiling. A friend that actually cares what I have to say and listens to me. He hung his head low, his uncertainty making it harder to think. What should I do?

A knock came from his door. "Big Macintosh..."

Big Macintosh felt his stomach lurch. Granny Smith.

"Ah kin hear yer yellow-bellied breathing in there, now open up!"

"Yes, Granny," Big Macintosh replied, feeling powerless as he opened the door.

The sour green mare shot him a reproachful look. "Why does that newfangeled Canterloty paper say that yer runnin’ around with stallions?!" she yelled at him.

"W-well, Granny, Ah made a friend on my last shipment to Canterlot."

Granny Smith gave a swift kick to Big Macintosh's shins. "Made a friend, huh?"

"Please, Granny, it's not like the paper makes it." We're just friends. I doubt he would ever feel the same way about me that I feel about him anyway. "You know how reporters like to muddy the truth for sales."

"That is true." Granny Smith never took her eyes off Big Macintosh. Her agonizing scrutiny cut into Big Macintosh like a knife. "I best not find out you're running with stallions, or I'll whoop you and kick you off the farm: a pony's no good to the farm if they can't make foals to keep it going." She left Big Macintosh in his room to think over what he had done, the threat of expulsion lingering in the air.

Off the farm, but this farm is my home. Big Macintosh buried his hooves in his mane, allowing his head to rest as he struggled to hold in his tears.

"Big Mac?"

Big Macintosh flinched, his head shooting up to catch sight of his sister at the doorway. "Hey, sis."

"Yeah, hey." She rubbed a forehoof on the back of her head, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. "So... Rarity told me about the... thing in Canterlot."

"Yeah..."

"You... must have made quite the scene," she laughed weakly. "A farmpony, going and getting himself the heart of one of them stuffy noble ponies. It's almost like one of them stories... mom would read. Well, only in those stories it was usually about a mare and a stallion."

"Yeah..."

Applejack trotted to his side, sitting herself down. "I guess Granny Smith let you have it, huh?" Big Macintosh didn't respond. "I'll just take that as a yes," she sighed. "Do you... like that fancy pants guy? What's his name again?"

"Fancy Pants," Big Macintosh replied immediately.

"Oh, that is his name. Noble ponies sure have weird names." Again, everypony in the room went silent. "Do you... do you like him?"

“Well Ah... Ya know....”

“Big Macintosh, yes or no.”

Applejack seldom if ever used Big Mac’s full name, the exception to this rule being when she was gravely serious about something. Applejack reached out a hoof, raised Big Macintosh’s chin, and gazed directly into his eyes expectantly.

“Ah...” Big Macintosh swallowed hard before responding “Yes, ah like him more than any mare Ah’ve ever been with AJ. Somethin’ about that moment just felt... right; and now, Ah don’t know what to do. Granny threatened to kick me out on ma flank, but some part of me just wants to be with him.”

Applejack smiled at her brother’s honesty and rested her head on his shoulder. Big Macintosh was taken aback for a moment but allowed it to happen. “Big Macintosh, I understand your feelins’ completely, and I know exactly where you’re coming from, I’ve uh, been down that road myself,” Applejack said while blushing.

At this, Big Macintosh raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as Applejack continued. “Besides, Granny wouldn’t kick you out: cain’t nopony else around here pull that dang plow!” Applejack playfully slugged Big Macintosh in the shoulder, causing him to grin weakly. “I think she’s just a little shocked about you bein’, well a...”

“Colt-cuddler?”

“Well, yeah. But don’t think yer the only one in this family who swings that way.” The sound of something crashing into the side of the house punctuated Applejack’s thought. “And I guess that would be my rope,” she sighed. Applejack galloped over to the window in Big Macintosh’s room, stuck her head outside and began yelling, “Rainbow dash, what in tarnation was that!? Crashing into the orchard is bad enough, but now ya went an’ wrecked my house!? You just wait right there!”

As Applejack turned and galloped out of the room, Big Macintosh noticed his sister wore an expression not of irritation, but rather one of content, oddly enough. Maybe I’m not wrong for havin’ these feelins’ but—

“Big brother?” Called a voice from the hallway.

"Oh," Big Macintosh turned, "Apple Bloom, you're not out crusading with your friends?"

"No," Apple Bloom trotted close to Big Macintosh, laying her head on him. "Granny Smith said she was going to kick you out for kissing somepony?"

Big Macintosh sighed. "It's complicated, Apple Bloom." He placed a hoof on her shoulder to comfort her.

"Why?" she asked innocently.

"Because... he's a stallion."

"So?"

So? Thatone word pierced Big Macintosh. So... what? Nothing. "You know, I don't know either." He picked up his sister, wrapping her tight in a hug. "Apple Bloom, thanks."

"What did I do?"

"Just be yourself, Bloom." He kissed his sister on her forehead. "Thanks, I needed this."

"Is Granny Smith going to kick you out now for kissing me?"

Big Macintosh couldn't contain his laughter. "Somehow, I don't think so."

He set his sister down on the floor and after another glance back at Big Macintosh, Apple bloom scurried out into the hall. I wonder how Mr. Pants is handlin’ this...

After hours of debating with himself and an empty fridge, Fancy Pants begrudgingly immersed himself into the streets of Canterlot in search of breakfast. He didn’t even bother with a disguise this time: instead, he just allowed the tide of paparazzi and gawking passers-by to wash over him as they whispered behind his back. The entire day, all of the television networks and radio stations were belittling and discussing him as though he were some filthy pervert.

Even Fleur De Lis was on the air a few times with Photo Finish, making those same baseless accusations, only she decided to take it a step further by humiliating him. She exposed his personal secrets, and even put him down ‘performance’ wise which he knew for a fact was a bold faced lie because during whenever they were intimate, it was he who had to feign any sense of pleasure.

He was on his way to Pony Joe’s, when one particular member of the paparazzi cloud that was surrounding him reached out and physically stopped him. “Hey, Fancy Pants, Hot Tip from the Canterlot Chronicler. I’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.” The reporter took a sip of the coffee he was holding.

Fancy Pants was struck by deja vu, as though he’d heard that name before. Hot Tip... Hot Tip...

“So is that a yeah or wha—”

“It was you...” Fancy Pants said under his breath.

“What was that Fancy Pants? I can’t understand ya.” Hot Tip put hoof to his ear and leaned in close.

“This is your fault.”

“Just a bit louder, please.” Hot Tip inched closer

“You’ve ruined everything...”

“Look Fancy, this—”

“I’ll kill you for this!” Fancy Pants lunged at Hot Tip, swinging one of his forehooves at the reporter’s head.

Hot Tip ducked the swing and began backing up as Fancy Pants came in with another clumsily aimed swing, to which Hot Tip ducked again, only this time the reporter pulled the lid off of his coffee cup and whipped the contents of it at Fancy Pants, which caused him to grab his face out of panic as the burning liquid connected, and crash into the ground.

Hot Tip straightened his stained tie before trotting up to Fancy Pants again. “So anyway, I wanted to ask you some questions. How long have you been a colt-cuddler exactly?”

Fancy Pants could only lay on the street weeping while the surrounding cameras went off. He wept not because of his shattered reputation, or the burning in his face. Those were just gateways to the rest of his current emotional trauma. As the tears streamed down his face,  he could only think of the red stallion that dashed into his life so briefly. Am I ever going to see him again? The cameras continued to flash, capturing him at his weakest, most down-fallen moment. All they care about is seeing me ruin my life. I never wanted this.

        "So how long have you been one?" Hot Tip asked again, burying his nose in a notepad. "I'm just sure our readers are dying to know."

        "A day..."

        "Just a day—"

        Fancy Pants punched Hot Tip in his face, leaving the pony reeling on the floor, clutching his broken snout. "What the hay was that for?"

        The reporters all around Fancy Pants started taking notes of his sudden outburst.

Oh dear, I've gone and given them something else to write about. Fancy Pants looked off in the distance, in the direction of Ponyville, where he knew the stallion of his dreams was. Why did you give me happiness, and take it away so abruptly? More flashes, more pictures, more caught misery. Where do I go now?