Keep Calm, Canter On

by Ink Swirl

Rating: everyone
Tags: Other, Fancypants, Fleur de Lis, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy
Length: 2051

Excerpts from the life of Fancypants, the "most important pony" in Canterlot.

Excerpts from the life of Fancypants, the "most important pony" in Canterlot.

My first proper, somewhat serious fic. C/C would be greatly appreciated.

Published 2012-02-08 09:04:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-02-21 02:23:13 UTC

Tea With Tealove

~ Keep Calm, Canter On ~
A MLP:FiM fanfiction by Ink Swirl

Fancypants sat on a posh, heavily cushioned chair in the den of his house, sipping tea, feeling completely and utterly bored. The slow, methodical sound of Frederic LePony pounding on keys coming from the weather-worn, wooden gramophone set on a table beside his chair filled the air. Fancypants himself had never been much of a fan of Frederic's solo work, but it was better than listening to silence mingled with the sound of the unending rain pouring down outside.

The rain, yet again, was the cause of his current vacation into the doldrums. Most of the upper-class were currently locked up inside their homes, almost every single major event in Canterlot was cancelled due to the constant onslaught of rain, and Fleur-Du-Lis was visiting family in Manehatten, so unless he wanted to trudge through the rain and mud just to barge in on somepony who was probably busy, or grow wings, he really had no one to talk to. And Fancypants, unsurprisingly, was a rather socially-oriented pony, so being trapped inside his home with absolutely nopony to talk to was a rather unfortunate situation to be stuck in.

"Isn't that right, Mr. Miggins?" Fancypants asked the sock wrapped around his right forehoof. It was adorned with two button eyes and a "mouth" drawn in marker, with a small top hat haphazardly glued to the top of it's woolen "head". In an odd falsetto voice, Miggins responded, "Oh yes, bloomin' terrible."

Fancypants sighed, removing the sock from his hoof. He was getting a bit desperate.

A loud series of dings! in various keys suddenly overtook the recording, indicating that either somepony was at the front door, or that Vinyl Scratch had somehow possesed Fancypants' gramophone and was about to tear the air asunder with a blaring cascade of wubs and wobs. Ignoring the latter possibility and burying Miggins under one of the chair's cushions, Fancypants trotted over to the door, flicking it open with a quick burst of magic, coming nose-to-nose with a lime-green, psychotically grinning mare. Fancypants, having had years to build up an immunity to Tealove's antics, was mostly unfazed.

Mostly.

"Wow, Fancypants, I don't think I've ever seen you jump quite like that before," Tealove said, giggling.

Fancypants pulled himself off the floor. "Well, I-"

"I like what you've done with the place," Tealove said, waltzing inside, ignoring her friend's possible spinal trauma. "Very...rustic."

Fancypants dusted off his suit with a hoof, before trotting over beside Tealove, "Yes, I suppo-"

"Ooh! Tea!" Tealove suddenly transformed into a green-and-blue blur that propelled itself towards the kettle of tea resting on the kitchen counter at mind bogglingly fast speeds. Stopping at a speed that should've logically caused severe neck damage, Tealove snagged a teacup from somewhere and poured herself some delicious, warm, spine-tinglingly delectable tea.

Fancypants sighed. Tealove, as her name and cutie mark (a steaming, pink cup of tea with a heart emblazoned upon it) implied, had a downright disturbing fondness for tea. Fancypants himself had never quite been able to pinpoint exactly when his childhood friend developed her obsessive interest in tea, but he presumed that, given that her parents had been expert tea brewers, she may or may not have been born with the addiction crammed into her brain somewhere.

"So, Tealove," Fancypants said, magically levitating Tealove's umbrella off her back and setting it down beside the door, trying not to get water all over the carpet, "What brings you by my humble abode?"

Tealove stopped vacuuming tea out of her cup long enough to face Fancypants. "Well, it's been raining for a couple days, and I know how crazy you get when you're locked up in your house for too long without anypony around."

Fancypants glanced around nervously, trying to subtly stuff the sock puppets he had scattered throughout the den under one of the couch's cushions with a few gentle shots of magic. "C-crazy? Why, Tealove, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Tealove gave the blue-maned stallion an accusing stare.

"At all," Fancypants continued, stowing the last puppet underneath the couch itself.

Tealove walked over to the couch, grabbed a cushion, and tossed it aside, a look of annoyance never leaving her face.

"...I'm not very good at being subtle, am I?"

"Not really," she said, taking another sip of tea.

Fancypants heaved a sigh, and flopped back down into his chair. "How many times has it been now, Tealove?"

The green mare dragged enough socks out from beneath from one of the couch's cushions so that she could comfortably sit on it. "I'm not sure. Around five, I believe."

"Somewhere around that," Fancypants said, setting his monocle beside the gramophone, "Have I ever explained why I...'wig out', as you would probably phrase it?"

Tealove blinked. "Well, you're usually a bit too incoherent for me to ask..."

"My father used to tell me, "son, you were born to be somepony important". They were the biggest socialites of their time, so I made it my sworn duty to follow in their hoofsteps. My mark represents my innate ability, and need, to lead; to make trends, to impress, to be somepony important, like my father would want. So, when there's nopony around, I have a tendency to...improvise."

"Fancy," Tealove said, sucked almost entirely into the overly posh couch, "I think you might have some issues."

There was a pause, only broken when Fancypants snickered darkly.

"Probably."

And so, the duo (once Tealove had been rescued from the clutches of the villanous couch, and it's cushions had been fully freed from the tyrannical rule of the Sock Militia) drank tea, chatted, and attempted to think of solutions for Fancypants' disturbing over-dependence on others well into the evening. And all was right with the world.

Except in Ponyville. They were dealing with the second coming of Nightmare Moon which had been caused by a human materializing through a portal and accidentally injuring Angel Bunny. But that's not important.

On Air

~ Keep Calm, Canter On ~
A MLP:FiM fanfiction by Ink Swirl
Chapter 2 - On Air

The cool, crisp wind of a Tuesday afternoon blew back Fancypants' blonde mane dramatically as he tapped a hoof on his air-yacht's helm. I really should get this moved somewhere with cover, he thought, grimacing as the purple...whale...balloon...monstrosity's flimsy rope supports flicked back and forth perilously in the breeze. I should definitely re-read that manual on aeronautical terminology later, he thought, mentally cursing his inability to remember the name of half the parts of the air-yacht he'd owned for nearly a week now. Although, in retrospect, Fancypants had to admit that buying the ship just because "the Daedalus" sounded like a nifty name at the time without much prior knowledge of aeronautical crafts probably hadn't been the best idea.

Fancypants' marefriend Fleur-Du-Lis, on the other hoof, seemed completely unaffected by the unending onslaught of chilling wind, and also seemingly completely unaware of the hideous purple abomination perched atop the air-yacht, which most likely would have traumatized any onlooking children below, provided there were any, and also wasn't particuarly interested in the fine details of aeronautics. Fleur was, however, greatly aware of the poor stallion who's spine she was getting progressively closer to forcibly dislocating via hug. Fleur had always had some...issues with personal space. Quirks, Fancypants corrected, just odd, incredibly minor quirks.

Of course, regardless of the fact that they were simply quirks, it was still rather irksome that she adamantly refused to let go of him for even a moment.

But, besides that, things were going perfectly fine. After that unfortunate little incident a couple days ago with Tealove and the socks, Fancypants had decided the absolute best possible way to shake some of the psychosis out of his system would be a nice, relaxing air-yacht ride. And so, after collecting Fleur from her apartment, Fancypants set off. Miles above the grand, rolling hills a couple miles outside of Canterlot, specifically. And there was a lovely spot just a couple knots away where he could have the air-yacht descend, and perhaps set up a nice little picnic, chat with Fleur some more, inquire about that one lemon salesmare from Manehatten, and just admire the splendorous beauty of na-KRA-KOOOOOM

"Oh dear," he muttered, breaking free of Fleur's death-grip for a moment to look over the side of the ship to check for any possible damage. "Fleur, could you please check the interior for-oh no."

Off the bulwark (or whatever), a large air-boat emerged from the clouds. It's wood glistened in the sunlight that peeked through the gaps in the clouds, speckled here and there with the blood of it's victims (actually painfully obvious red paint). It's sail was a pitch-black, tattered sheet stretched across a mast, bearing a cartoonish skull in the center. The name of the craft, "The Good Airship Lollipop", was emblazoned upon the whatever the aeronautical term for "side of a ship" is. Fancypants silently mourned the screaming death of good plays-on-words.

A ragged looking brown stallion with a matted mane tucked haphazardly under a massive black hat stepped into view, his eyes bearing enough bags to hold up an airport. "Good mornin', campers!"

"Good morning, Hackey Sack," Fancypants said with a sigh. He'd been through this before. "How are things?"

"Oh, things are going great, Fancy! Especially now that you stole my ship."

"I never stole your ship, Hackey. There was an auction, and you wouldn't stop offering bottlecaps, used candy wrappers, and algae for an thousand bit air-yacht. Maybe if you laid off the heavy cider for a little while, you'd be able to recall that."

"C'mon now, I haven't had cider in at least a week!" Hackey said indignantly, stamping a hoof.

"Then why is there a barrel of it right over there?" Fancypants said, pointing a hoof.

"Where?!" Hackey said, worriedly glancing around his ship. As he turned, Fancypants quickly swung a nearby pole at the marauder's head, prompting Hackey to duck.

"'Ey now, I'm not fallin' for that again!" Hackey said, grabbing the pole in his teeth.

"And it only took you five times," Fleur said, leaning against the Daedalus' mast. "Simply marvelous."

"So either hand over the ship," Hackey said, chucking the pole overboard, "Or I'll...uh...challenge you to a duel or something. For the ship."

"Neither of us have proper dueling weapons, and you'd be at a severe disadvantage."

There was a moment of silence, as Hackey seemed to enter a state of deep thought. Now there's a first.

"Well, uh, I could...kidnap your friend there, or...something." Hackey said, scratching his neck with a hoof.

"And then I'd promptly buck you in the teeth," Fleur said, stretching a hind leg.

Silence reigned again.

"Well bugger," Hackey said, kicking the floor, "I dunno what to do. I've done tried damn near everything."

"I'd recommend getting help," Fancypants said, "I've got plenty of money, I could check you into a program, get you in touch with some people that could make you less of a babbling, alcoholic lunatic that lives in a carriage."

"Never!" Hackey said, pointing a hoof at Fancypants, "We're mortal enemies, Mister Pants. I could never live with myself if I accepted charity from the likes of you!"

"He could also bash you over the head with something and drag your unconscious body to the police for the second time this month," Fleur offered.

Hackey blinked.

"...Awrite, yeah, help sounds nice."

"Well, grand!" Fancypants said, heading back to the helm, "Let's just head on back to Canterlot and-"

At that moment, Fancypants suddenly noticed that, while he had been talking with Hackey, the Daedalus drifted into the proximity of the (conveniently labeled via large sign) Mountains of Sharp and Pointy Rocks.

"Oh dear."

"You know Fleur, I honestly think that things worked out rather well, don't you?" Fancypants smiled somewhat, his face aching from the movement. "I mean sure, the Daedalus is going to need some minor repairs, but I'm positive that as soon as Hackey's out of the intensive care unit, he'll be on the road to really cleaning up his life."

"If I wasn't in a full-body cast right now, I would strangle you."

"Love you too."