16. The Cellist and the One String Cello
The Cellist and the One String Cello
Mac awoke to the sound of hurried footsteps passing outside his bedroom door. Big Macintosh could tell it was Applejack simply from the rhythm. That was good to hear. It had been a couple of days since she first got the flu, now it seemed like she was back to her old self and up and ready to go. To where, Mac had no clue. He looked out his bedroom window to see the sun just coming up above the horizon. He rubbed his eyes and looked again to be absolutely sure. Strange, he didn’t mean to sleep in. Knowing there was nothing he could do about it now, he rolled out of bed with a yawn. He cleared his throat of the mucus that had built up overnight, and headed out to the hallway to see what all the ruckus was about.
He peered out just in time to see Applejack balancing a tray on her head. Two bowls of the ruby red soup wobbled on top of it. She was trying to walk as fast as possible to Granny Smith’s room, putting the tray even more at risk. She stopped in front of his door, and her gaze seemed to lose focus. Her legs shook and her footing became unsteady. Mac quickly went up to stand beside her, steadying her, and grabbed the tray with his teeth. He raised it and set it down on the ground. “Pull yer reigns there, AJ,” Mac said. “Ah know ya can skip and balance a mug of cider no problem, but yer gonna drop that soup and make a mess if ya go that fast so soon after comin’ off the flu. Nice to see you feelin’ better, though.”
Applejack took a deep breath and nodded. “Been feelin’ fine since this morning,” she said. “Still get a bit dizzy sometimes, but it ain’t a big deal. Ah gotta hurry, though, Applebloom and Granny Smith caught my cold, an’ now they can’t even get out of bed.”
“Oh,” Mac said. “You need any help?” Mac already knew the answer, but he thought it would be polite to ask.
“Thanks for the offer, Mac, but Ah already called the girls for help.”
“Pretty sure they’re sick.”
“Not anymore,” Applejack said. “Fluttershy really worked her magic. Feel free to take the day off, Mac, Ah got everything covered here.”
Mac didn’t have time to answer before he heard the front door opening, followed by the chatter of five mares entering the house. There was no mistaking those voice. “Alright then,” he said. “Just remember that Granny like a lot of pepper in her soup, and if Applebloom doesn’t wanna drink hers then just give her—”
“A spoonful of honey with a few drops mixed in,” Applejack finished for him, adding a small smirk for good measure. “Ah know, just like dad used to do for me. Now git, Ah don’t wanna see hide or hair of ya today. Go make a memory or somethin’.”
“Ah’m goin’, Ah’m goin’,” Mac said as the sound of hoofsteps came up the stairs. “But Ah can’t leave without sayin’ hello?”
Applejack rolled her eyes with a smile. “Alright, keep ‘em busy while Ah give Granny and Applebloom their breakfast. Ah’ll be right back.” She picked up the tray and balanced it on her head once again. She went down the hall to make her delivery while Mac went the opposite way to greet the others at the top of the stairs. The exchange of hellos was like an orchestral pit warming up before a performance.
“Hey Macintosh,” Twilight said first. Above her levitated a thick tome large enough to replace his kitchen table. Without warning she raised the book over him and dropped in on his back. Mac wobbled a bit but managed to steady his stance. “It’s the philosophy book I promised you,” Twilight said with a grin, “the Existentialists.”
Before Macintosh could offer a rebut, a pair of bright pink appendages wrapped around his neck with enough force to make breathing difficult. A fluffy mane covered his nose, making the scent of sugar and vanilla overpowering. “Hey Mackey!” Pinky said happily. “Thanks for the card.”
“Aw well,” Mac said, a small blush on his cheeks as they separated, “it was more Fluttershy’s idea.” He and Fluttershy exchanged glances and the yellow pegasus have him a small nod.
“But…you got the signatures,” Fluttershy said quietly.
“Then I need to hug both of you!” Pinkie swept them both into a tight hug and quite a few giggles had to be suppressed as the others looked on.
“I think you’re choking them, Pinkie,” Rainbow Dash said, not even bothering to hide her laughter.
It was only with great hesitation that Pinkie released Mac and Fluttershy. Mac rubbed his neck, seeing if she had left a bruise. As he did, he caught sight of Rarity as she came up to greet him. “Call me crazy, Rarity,” he said, “but Ah think ya forgot to put on make-up this mornin’.”
“You’re crazy,” Rarity said. “I am in fact wearing a slight bit. I’m experimenting with a few new techniques and brands. Though it’s nice that you noticed.”
“Looks like everyone’s all here,” Applejack said as she closed Applebloom’s door behind her. She went up to the group and gave everyone a quick greeting. “Ah wanna thank y’all for lendin’ a hoof. C’mon, we can talk an’ plan in my room.”
“I thought we could also discuss plans for the reunion in a couple of days,” Twilight said as she followed Applejack.
Big Macintosh had no interest in listening in on their conversation, and slipped out while everyone headed into Applejack’s room. With nowhere else to go he went back into his room, in part to relieve himself of the manuscript Twilight dropped on him.
It looked like he had the day free. As much as he was hesitant to neglect the farm and his family, there was no arguing with Applejack. Besides, he knew exactly how he would spend his free time. Going to his dresser, he pulled open the top drawer and fetched an envelope from it. He read it over again to help him memorize the details. A day trip to Canterlot sounded just fine, and though there was no mention of a dress code, he still wanted to look a bit nicer than usual, which meant a trip to the closet.
Macintosh only had a couple of suits, but he didn’t plan on going completely formal. Instead, he grabbed the harness Rarity made for him all those months ago, and slipped the piece of black wood over his head, but it was loose. Very loose. It wobbled and swung from side to side with every step he took. With a sigh he took it off and placed it back in the closet. Oh well, maybe some nice cologne would be enough. Mac was sure there was a bottle in the bathroom. The same cologne his dad used to woo his mom. No better sales pitch than that, even if Mac was sure a mare had to be looking for more than just a smell. With a confident nod to himself he stepped out and headed for the bathroom.
A quick shower later, Macintosh was looking at his reflection in the mirror. He needed a haircut, but there was simply no time. For now, a ponytail would suffice. Mac grabbed one of Applejack’s mane bands from a little container she kept under the sink, and tied his mane. He then dug deeper through the various cleaners, scrubs, and strange knick-knacks that had found their way under the sink over the years. Finally, he found a small glass bottle filled with a clear liquid. He fetched it and popped open the top to take a sniff. An aged oak whiskey barrel, a well-worn leather jacket, a hint of citrus; even after so many years it smelled exactly the same as when Mac was a colt. Good ol’ Dad. Only stallion he ever knew to die of a broken heart. Not a bad way to go, Mac decided, though a bit too romantic for his taste. He rubbed a bit around his neck, just a bit—the closer a mare had to be to smell it, the better. Satisfied, he carefully hid the bottle back beneath the sink.
Upon leaving the bathroom, he found Twilight and Rarity standing in front of his closed bedroom door. The creaking bathroom door caught their attention and they took a few steps toward him.
“Hey Macintosh,” Twilight said with a smile, the kind of smile used to ease a pony’s worries. It only had the opposite effect. “Rarity and I just wanted to know how you were feeling.”
Mac tilted his head. “Uh, Ah’m feelin’ fine, Twilight. Thanks for askin’. Pretty sure Ah haven’t caught what’s makin’ everypony sick.”
“What we mean, Macintosh,” Rarity pitched in, “is that, well, we just wanted to make sure that you were okay with us taking care of things around here. The farm, and Applebloom, and Granny Smith.”
“Sure Ah’m okay with it,” Mac said with a smile. A smile meant to ease a pony’s worries, his was much better. He wondered for a quick moment whether he needed to bring his saddlebags with him, but ultimately decided against it. With everything ready, he turned and headed for the stairs. “Now if ya need anythin’,” he said over his shoulder, “I’ll be in Canterlot.”
“Really?” Twilight said. “Okay then have fu—”
“Canterlot?” Rarity repeated. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are you going to do in Canterlot?”
Macintosh turned with a shrug. “I’m goin’ on a date with Octavia.”
“Oh,” Rarity said, “I see.” She was silent for a few seconds, but quickly recovered. “Well, are you sure you want to go with your mane so plain? There’s so much you could do with it.” Rarity went up to him and raised a hoof toward his mane. “Why, with just a little mousse and—” she stopped suddenly, and slowly her hoof went back down. She took a deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes.
“Uh, Rarity?” Twilight said.
Her words were lost on Rarity, whose eyes remained closed for several seconds more. They finally opened with a quick flutter. “Now as I was saying, a little mousse, a bit of primping, and you could look absolutely fantastic.” Her hoof went back to his mane in order to illustrate what she meant.
“Ah appreciate the thought,” Mac said honestly, “but Ah think Ah’ll go as is. Pretty sure Ah’m past the phase where Ah gotta impress her with my looks.”
Rarity sighed. “If you insist. Have fun in Canterlot...but not too much fun.”
Macintosh chuckled. “Ah’ll be back tonight. Take good care of Applebloom and Granny.” He gave the two mares a nod and hurried down the stairs. He went through the front door and headed to the train station. Not once did he look back.
-*-
Octavia’s letter had told him to meet her at her apartment in the older part of Canterlot. He walked along the narrow cobblestone streets and looked at the addresses of the tall apartment buildings. The street really was the oldest thing this side of Canterlot as the buildings were of recent construction. Every so often, Macintosh would see a detached home between two skyscrapers; a holdout against modern development. Finally, Mac stopped at a ten-story building of steel and glass that matched the address he was looking for. He approached the large double doors only to find them locked. Beside them there was a directory of residence and a small speaker beneath it, complete with numbered buttons. Big Macintosh found Octavia’s name on the ninth floor. He pressed the corresponding numbers to call her.
“Yes?” Octavia’s curt voice came out a garbled, distorted mess through the speaker.
“Mac,” Macintosh said. He imagined his voice was just as bad on the other side. The less he said the better.
A buzzer sounded from somewhere nearby and Macintosh went through the now unlocked doors. He entered a large sitting room with a few bookshelves, chairs, and a coffee table tastefully laid out. A few vases full of flowers brightened up the room, and in the far side there were a pair of elevators. With no reception pony or the like to be seen, Macintosh went to the elevators to head to the ninth floor.
One catchy tune later, the elevator doors opened and Mac stepped out into a hallway with only one destination. Not two yards away stood a door emblazoned with a golden number nine. The elevator closed behind him and Mac wondered for an instant if he should turn back. He fought the impulse and knocked on the door. Silence was his only response for a few long minutes. Just when he decided to turn back, the click of a turning doorknob stopped him.
Octavia was without her usual bowtie. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, but the dark rings and bags still remained. Her mane was uncombed, and it looked as if she was trying her hardest not to fall asleep. “Good morning, Macintosh,” she said, trying in vain to stifle a yawn. “Please come in.” She went back inside, leaving the door open so Mac could follow, which he did with a bit of trepidation.
The first thing Mac noticed was how high the ceilings were. Slants and peaks rose higher than what he thought possible in an apartment. Bookshelves made of glass and metal stood at regular intervals around the living room. Taking a closer look, Macintosh found them full of books on music performance, music history, music theory, and ancient tyrants. A single recliner and a coffee table were the only furniture in the living room, and the scarce furnishings were much more obvious in such a large room. A few large windows let in ample amounts of natural sunlight, and a set of double doors led out to a balcony. In a corner was a staircase leading up to even more space. On the opposite side of the living room was the kitchen without any partition between the two. Full of granite countertops and every appliance a pony could ever want, including two ovens. The entire kitchen looked uncomfortably clean.
“Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, hardwood floors throughout,” Octavia said as she sat at her recliner. “It used to be half that until I bought the tenth floor and renovated the two together.”
“You bought an entire floor?” Macintosh asked. He went up to her recliner and sat beside it.
“Not all at once,” Octavia said. “I simply bought the condos one by one. I’m working on the eighth floor now. There’s a couple from Manehattan that are stubbornly holding on to their apartment.”
“So why exactly are ya doin’ this?” Mac asked. “You trying to buy up the whole building?”
“That and the surrounding vacant lots.” Octavia yawned again and reclined the chair a bit. “About our date. I was hoping we could go out to eat and to celebrate, but as it so happens there is nothing to celebrate.” She sighed and propped her chin on her front hoof. “So if you don’t mind, I would like to spend our date indoors.”
Macintosh fought his first impulse to blush. Rather, he opted to gently place the back of his fetlock against her forehead. Octavia did not seem to enjoy it and narrowed her eyes at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Checkin’ to see if you’re sick.”
“I’m not.”
The temperature of her head felt normal, and the forehead test never lied. Ever. So with a nod Macintosh removed his hoof and took a step back. Okay, so her disheveled appearance wasn’t caused by an illness. She definitely had neglected sleep, but knowing Octavia that may not be very unusual. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, deciding it was best to get answers straight from the pony’s mouth. Octavia leaned back farther on her chair and shook her head. No luck. But soon an answer came in the form of Octavia’s growling stomach. Mac smiled and headed to the kitchen. “How about I make us something to eat.”
“Good luck,” Octavia called after him.
Mac ignored her, unsure of what she meant, but it didn’t remain a mystery for long. Opening the fridge he found…nothing. Absolutely nothing. Same with the freezer, and the cupboards, and the drawers. No food or even utensils or pots and pans. Mac went to the stove to see if it would, in fact, turn on. It did, thankfully. The only thing he did find in all that storage space were a few sheets of paper, a pencil, and a book tucked away beneath the sink. He grabbed the latter and placed it on the island in the center of the kitchen.
“There’s another kitchen upstairs if you still feel like wasting your time,” Octavia said with a smile.
“Real cheeky,” Mac said. “So if ya don’t cook…at all, then why do ya got this cookbook?” he asked, flipping through the pages. The cookbook featured nothing but desserts, hundreds and hundreds of them. Every so often he would find a dessert that had its page number circled along with a name scribbled in the margins. The name differed with each circled number.
“It’s my catalog of desserts I want to eat,” Octavia said. “Once I’ve eaten what I feel is the pinnacle of a dessert, I circle the page number and mark the name of the chef that made it.”
Macintosh took in her explanation and shrugged. He’d heard stranger hobbies. He idly flipped through the book and stopped when he saw a recipe for apple pie. A spark of pride welled up in his chest when he saw the page number circled and his name decorated beside it. It also gave him an idea.
“Judging by your face, I see you’ve found your name,” Octavia said with another yawn.
“You put a little heart next to it.”
“I was very drunk, I assure you.”
Macintosh chuckled and brought the cookbook to her. “You know,” he said after placing it on her stomach, “Ah bet Ah could make any one of these desserts and make it better than any you ever tried.”
Octavia smiled and opened the cookbook. “My, aren’t we trying hard to impress. You might make a delicious apple pie, Macintosh, but I bet you couldn’t make a…” she flipped through the pages and stopped at a seemingly random dessert, “sachertorte.”
“Eeyup,” Mac said, “course Ah would use apple preserves and bourbon to make the filling.”
Octavia chuckled under her breath. “Fine,” she said, flipping through another page. “What about a croquembouche?”
“Eeyup.”
“Tiramisu?”
“Eeyup.”
“Root beer float?”
“Eeyup.”
“Trifle?”
“Eeyup.”
“Apple pie?”
Macintosh quirked an eyebrow. “You already know Ah can make that.”
“I know,” Octavia said. “I want to eat it again.”
“Sure, I could make it again. Only thing is that it might not taste as good since Ah ain’t got any apples from the farm. So what do ya say? Ah bet ya all the apples you could eat that Ah can make all of those desserts and make ‘em the most delicious you ever had.”
Octavia set the chair upright and hopped off, the book falling to the floor. She picked it up and set it on the coffee table. “Alright, but if any of those desserts are not the best I ever ate, then not only do you have to give me all the apples I can eat, but you have to be my personal cook for a month. My every gluttonous whim you must sate, no matter the time or location.” She took a pencil and paper atop the table, flipped through the cookbook, and started writing down ingredients.
Mac tilted his head. “Sounds a bit impractical,” Mac said. “Ah mean, Ah can’t just leave Ponyville and take a train to Canterlot to make ya something to eat, and then go all the way back.”
“That’s none of my concern,” Octavia said with a sly smile. “Now let’s go to the supermarket, we have a lot to buy. It’s not going to be cheap to buy everything we need. Oh well, spending money always makes me feel better.”
Mac almost froze when he realized what she meant. He recovered quickly. “Ah was thinkin’ we could go to my place to cook, that way ya wouldn’t have to buy so much stuff.”
“I’m hungry, Macintosh, and it would be quicker to simply get all the ingredients and cookware and cook everything at my apartment. Besides, it’s no trouble.”
“Ah just don’t feel comfortable with ya spendin’ so much money just ‘cause of a bet Ah made with ya.”
Octavia gave him a smirk that somehow made the bags under her eyes appear less noticeable. “I know you don’t.” She grabbed a pair of her saddlebags hanging on a coatrack by the front door and headed out. Macintosh could only follow her.
-*-
Mac pushed the shopping cart with the brunt of his chest, idly looking down the aisles of food for anything they needed. According to Octavia, this was the largest supermarket in Canterlot. It supplied every caterer, restaurant, café, and dining hall of note. Of course, nobody called it a supermarket. The word ‘supermarket’ was much too pedestrian.
“Instead ponies call it the Boutique de Cuisine, or something along those lines.” Octavia shrugged and led the way to an aisle filled with cookware. Pots, pans, baking sheets, whisks, blenders, and everything else that could ever belong in a kitchen. “I just call it a supermarket. It’s much more pretentious that way.” She grabbed whatever caught her eye and started piling appliances into the cart.
“Ah don’t think we need a tortilla press, Octi,” Mac said.
“You never know.”
The shopping continued, and the pair went up and down every aisle getting everything they needed. Flour, sugar, milk, eggs, strawberries, cinnamon, an ice cream maker, a trifle dish, baking pans, butter, ice, liquor—so much liquor, corn syrup, thermometers, sponges, soap, plates, heavy cream, forks, knives, grenadine, spoons, and much more. Soon both Octavia and Mac were pushing their own carts, and Mac was even pulling an extra one behind him. He didn’t mind.
“So Macintosh,” Octavia said as the two walked down one of the many aisles. “How are things back at home? Is your sister still trying to tell you what to do, what to think, and what to feel?”
Macintosh smiled, not even bothering to correct her. “My baby sister and grandma are sick,” he said.
“I see,” Octavia said. “I’m surprised you aren’t at their bedsides right now caring for their every need and want, or at least tending to the farm now that half your family is incapacitated.”
“She’s got her friends to help take care of all that stuff,” Mac said.
“The other Elements of Harmony?”
“Eeyup.”
“You must be so happy for her,” Octavia said with a smirk. Macintosh didn’t say anything, and only watched her move down the aisle of soda in search of the last ingredient. There was a touch of knowing sarcasm in her voice, as if she and him had some understanding. But to be honest, Mac had no idea what she was getting at. He was happy for her, of course he was. Mac sighed and followed Octavia as she inspected the bottles.
“Cola, ugh, Lime, bah, Lemon Lime, Lime, Lime Lemon, Lemon Lime. All these lesser drinks are for peasants. Where’s the-Ah. There it is.” She grabbed a bottle of root beer and placed it in her cart. “That’s everything. Let’s bring this to the front and pay.”
“How’re we gonna bring this all back to your place?” Mac asked, lugging his two carts to the front of the store.
“Don’t worry,” Octavia said, “they offer free delivery with purchases greater than a thousand bits.”
“A thousand bits?” Mac exclaimed. “You really think it’s gonna be that much?”
“Even more,” Octavia answered with a smirk. They placed the three carts by a counter where a cashier waited to ring up the bill. Once the total was calculated, Octavia paid with a few pouches of bits. She then filled out a form for delivery, and beckoned for Mac to follow her. He did, and the two walked out of the store completely unburdened. It was a strange feeling for Mac, to go into a market, buy things, and leave with nothing. A part of him was looking forward to pulling a cart filled with everything Octavia had bought. He couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.
However, something else nagged at the back of his mind. Why was Octavia going through all this trouble and all this money just for a bet? Sure, he could believe she loved desserts, but even that had its limits. It just seemed strange that one moment she was leaning back in her recliner and the next she was up and about shopping and dropping bits.
A sudden thought came to him as they walked down the street. It was a long shot, but he couldn’t help but take it. He just had to use a bit of tact. “You often go shopping and rack up a four digit grocery bill?”
“This is the first time I ever went grocery shopping,” Octavia said. “Usually I go to a restaurant for my meals.”
“So why the change of pace?”
“You offered to cook.”
Mac smiled. “Well why did ya decide to buy so much stuff? We could’ve gone back to Sweet Apple Acres and Ah could’ve cooked for you there. No need for ya to spend so much money on things yer probably never gonna use again.”
“Please Macintosh,” Octavia said with a smirk, “I can afford it. Thankfully, money is no issue for me. If I want to spend a grand or two, then why not.”
“Wow, so you’re kind of a big shot in Canterlot, huh?” Mac asked with a chuckle.
“Well…I thought that was obvious.”
“Yer tryin’ to impress me, ain’t ya?”
“I…what?” Octavia said, convincingly surprised. However, the slight red tinge on her cheeks betrayed her true feelings.
“You are!” Mac said with a laugh. “You thought that throwing down all this money, like it was nothing, would impress me.” Octavia stuttered as she tried to rebuff, before she could, Mac smiled and rested his chin on top of her head. “Admit it, you like me.” Octavia said nothing for a long while, only taking in deep, long breaths from her nose.
“On the contrary,” she said, “I’ve never hated a pony more in my entire life.” Despite her words, she made no attempt to escape from under his chin, scowling as she was. “Besides, I don’t have to impress you with my money. I could do that with my cello.”
“Or yer kind, loving heart,” Mac said with a smirk.
“Now you’re trying to make me sick,” Octavia muttered. “Let’s hurry. Our supplies will be delivered within the hour, and I’m still hungry.”
“Ready to go when you are,” Mac said. Octavia sighed and took another deep breath before continuing the way to her apartment. The streets were a bustle of ponies all dressed up with somewhere to go. All these stallions with their manes slicked back made him wonder if he should have taken up Rarity’s offer. Well, there wasn’t much he could do about it now. Besides, it wasn’t as if Octavia’s mane was any better.
“Giving it a little thought,” Octavia said, “I don’t think I’m the one that’s supposed to impress.”
“But you are,” Mac said with a smile, “and Ah just think it’s adorable.”
Octavia scoffed. “Oh for the love of Celestia…”
Luckily for Octavia, the pair were at the front of her building before the conversation could go any further. She didn’t waste any time punching in the code and entering. The elevator was ridden in an easy silence. Mac didn’t feel like prodding a hungry Octavia anymore. It was best just to wait until she had something to eat.
“I hope the food gets here soon,” Octavia said as the elevators opened up on the ninth floor. To her great delight and surprise all their supplies were already piled at her door. Macintosh had to stifle a laugh as she looked at the foodstuffs like a pony staring into nirvana. She quickly composed herself and cast a cool sideways glance at Macintosh. “Mac, if you would,” she said, opening the door to her apartment. Mac could only chuckle.
It took about twenty minutes to get everything inside and organized in the kitchen, and there was more than enough countertop space to allow everything they would need to sit comfortably where Mac could easily reach them. Octavia spent most of the time greedily gazing at the ingredients, knowing full well that they would soon create delightful desserts for her to devour.
“Well then, Macintosh, I’ll leave you to it,” Octavia said, stifling a yawn as she left the kitchen. “I’ll be in my room taking a nap.”
Macintosh quickly stepped forward, grabbed the end of her tail with his teeth, and dragged her back. “Now hold on,” he said.
“Did you just—”
“Ah ain’t gonna do this by myself. What am Ah, yer butler?”
“Not yet,” Octavia said with a smirk.
Mac ignored her. He had to, otherwise he might lose his train of thought. “How about you help me out? Might be nice.” He pressed his nose against hers. He had to keep himself from smiling too wide when he saw Octavia’s cheeks redden just slightly. She glared at him, though it didn’t carry the same weight as it usually did. She finally took a step back and vigorously shook her head.
“What about the bet?” Octavia asked. “Does it make sense for me to help you win a bet against me?”
“If it’s unfair, then it’s unfair to me,” Mac retorted. “After all, Ah’m gonna get help from a pony that, judgin’ by how empty yer kitchen is, doesn’t know a thing about cooking. Heck, you’d have a better chance of winning if you did help me.”
Octavia placed a hoof on her chin in thought, then, after another yawn, she gave him a nod and stood beside him. She gave a cursory glance to the ingredients all around her and quirked an eyebrow at Mac. “Where should I start?”
“You know how to make custard?”
“You know I don’t.”
Macintosh chuckled as he started to organize everything that had to be done. The ice cream base would have to be made, churned, and chilled. Dough would have to be kneaded, sponge cake baked, fruit sliced, choux pastry prepared, phyllo dough rolled. He needed to make the baklava without Octavia knowing. He wanted to keep it a nice little surprise for her.
When it came to cooking, Macintosh was a little more correct about Octavia’s skills than he thought. Though a master with the cello, she was a blank slate in the kitchen. Macintosh actually enjoyed teaching her as much as he could, everything from how to temper eggs to mixing dough. He guided her hooves, showing her how to do every task. Octavia, to her credit, was a quick learner, and started to figure out how to do things for herself with only a few tips from Mac. Oftentimes their closeness caused her to blush furiously. Judging by her dead-set scowl, she didn’t like the obvious display of emotion. Every time it would happen she would turn away from him, making some excuse or another, and shake her head. Only after the blush faded would she continue to help.
While Mac valued her help, he was worried at her obvious lack of sleep. Octavia would yawn or rub her eyes every couple of minutes, and the warmth of the kitchen only made it worse. Macintosh would often leave Octavia with something and, once he was sure she had it, focus on a bubbling pot only to return and see her starting to nod off. The fifth time this happened, Mac found Octavia completely asleep. Her face whitened with flour as she used a ball of dough as a pillow. He had to stifle his laughter in order not to wake her.
Mac set the burners on low and lifted Octavia up onto his back with a grunt, a cloud of flour dust billowing up off her coat. She was heavier than she looked. Octavia shifted a little and took a deep breath. “It’s the door to the right of the balcony,” she murmured. Macintosh assumed she was leading him to her bedroom. He headed there and opened the door. Entering, there was no doubt in his mind that this was indeed Octavia’s room. A wrought iron bed frame held up a king size mattress, covered in ivory sheets. Two dark oak nightstands flanked her bed; only one of them had a lamp. Opposite her bed was an armoire that matched the stain of the nightstands. In one solitary corner was her cello practically glittering on its stand in the plentiful sunlight coming in through the windows.
But what stood out most were the pure white walls with black marker scrawled on their surfaces. Dozens and dozens of grand staves were drawn in every spare space available, including the ceiling, and each one was filled with hundreds and hundreds of notes and symbols, some of which Mac recognized and some he didn’t. The very sight of such a work, of such purpose, filled him with a warm feeling he couldn’t quite identify. He went to the side of the bed and rolled her onto it. He grabbed the corner of her comforter and draped it over her.
“Are you…tucking me in?” Octavia asked.
It was Mac’s turn to blush as he took a couple steps back from the bed. “Sorry,” he said, “Ah guess it’s just a force of habit.” Octavia only smiled at him weakly before dozing off. Mac wondered if he should finish tucking her in, but he ultimately decided against it. Instead he went back to admire the wall of music for a few more seconds. He pressed a fetlock against the ink to make sure it was dry before tracing a hoof along the bass clef. If he ever heard this played, he bet it would be the most beautiful thing he ever heard.
It was funny, wasn’t it? To think that he had taken some satisfaction in teaching her how to cook. It was no wonder she couldn’t. Why would she ever bother if she could do something like this? This was leaps and bounds ahead of what he could ever do. Big Mac silently stepped out of her room and closed the door behind him. As much as he felt like contemplating further, he had things to do and food to cook.
He continued his cooking by himself, but although things went faster, he missed Octavia’s company. Still, that just made him want to surprise her even more with all the food he was making. It took a couple of hours to get everything nearly ready. All that was needed was for each dessert to be baked, chilled, assembled, or some combination of the three. But he had a problem. Even with two ovens there was simply not enough room to bake everything all at once. Of course, he could simply bake in a sequential order, but by the time the last dessert was baked the first dessert would be completely cold. Octavia did say there was another kitchen upstairs. Maybe that one had double ovens as well.
Mac set the ovens to preheat before heading up the stairs. The upper floor was absolutely…barren. There was no furniture at all except for a kitchen that was practically identical to the one downstairs. His hoofsteps echoed throughout the empty level as Macintosh looked for anything, anything at all, that filled the space. He found nothing. Not one couch or bookshelf or lamp. Why would Octavia want this much space when she didn’t do a thing with it? The entire floor felt like an apartment that had yet to be rented. Mac supposed that was exactly what it would be if Octavia hadn’t annexed it. With nothing else to see or do, Mac went to the ovens and set them up to preheat. With that done, he went downstairs and started to divvy up the desserts between the two kitchens and the four ovens.
Soon the two floors were filled with the scent of bread, sugar, and caramel.
-*-
The sun had just dipped below the horizon when Mac finished drizzling the last of the syrup onto the now cooled baklava. The ice cream had hardened to an enjoyable consistency, the ganache had set on the sachertorte, the macaroons had been assembled, and the croquembouche had been drizzled with caramel. The appetizer was prepared as well. He figured dessert was fine enough, but a quick starter course would make the unbalanced meal even better. Normally he would be worried about eating so much food, but he knew that Octavia had a bigger appetite than one would expect from a pony her size.
As if attracted by the smell of chocolate and vanilla, Octavia peered out her door and looked at the dinner table laden with food. She hurried to the table only to circle it slowly, eyeing each dessert like a lion stalking its prey. “Smells good,” she said. Mac smiled, noticing that her mane was nicely combed and her eyes no longer tired. The nap did her a world of good.
“Ah made minestrone soup,” Mac said as he placed a bowl in front of her. “Ah figure Ah’d make something light to leave plenty of room for dessert.” Octavia said nothing and only stared at her bowl of soup with a frown. Mac wasn’t sure what it meant. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t like minestrone?”
Octavia sighed and shook her head. “No, Macintosh, I love minestrone. It’s just…I just need a moment.” She gazed at her soup for another minute. Finally, she lifted the bowl and tipped it to her mouth, taking a sip of the red broth. A small smile crossed her lips, but it vanished quickly. “Why are you doing this?”
Mac quirked an eyebrow at her. “’Cause we made a bet.”
“The bet didn’t include baklava, or minestrone, or éclairs. You made a dozen other things besides the desserts we agreed upon. For that matter, why did you even make the bet? Why did you want to make me the best desserts I ever tasted?” Octavia asked.
It was a fair question, but not one that Mac knew how to answer. He supposed he could simply tell her that he liked to cook. He could tell her that he had nothing else to do and that cooking was a way to pass the time. He could tell her that his mom always cooked for him when he was upset and, though she tried to hide it, he knew Octavia was upset about something. But while all these answers would be true, none of them were quite complete. So instead of giving her an answer, he simply poured himself a bowl of soup, his first meal of the day, and sat beside her. “Yer soup’s gettin’ cold.”
Octavia rolled her eyes but said nothing more, continuing to eat her soup until there was nothing left. Then it was time for the main course.
Despite their best efforts, the two only managed to put a slight dent in the desserts. Octavia made sure to take a bite out of everything, leaving nothing intact. She never did tell him if they were the best desserts she ever had. Judging by the way she wolfed down everything from the tiramisu to the trifle, Mac assumed he had won the bet, or at least had a pretty good shot.
Soon even Octavia had her fill. She held a profiterole to her mouth, only to cringe and let it drop back onto her plate. “You live...for now,” Octavia muttered to the cream puff. With no more stomach to spare, Octavia leaned into Mac, her head resting against his neck. Every muscle in Mac’s body tensed as he felt her breath on his neck. Needless to say, her sudden comfort with him caught him off guard. He took a deep breath, and finished the éclair on his own plate. He hadn’t gone all out like she did. He had to save room for a drink or two, after all. Octavia frowned at him when he moved away from her, but she quickly perked up when she saw him pouring whiskey into two glasses. Mac placed the glasses on the table and got back into position. They sipped in silence, and it would have stayed that way if Mac had not decided to ask a question that had been on his mind for a while.
“Ah went upstairs to use the ovens,” Mac began.
“Did you?”
“Eeyup,” Mac said, swirling his glass and staring at the whirling amber liquid. “Couldn’t help but notice that there’s a lotta unused space up there. Ah was wonderin’ why ya bothered to buy the floor above ya when yer just gonna leave it empty.”
“Oh, that,” Octavia said. She finished her drink in a gulp and set down her empty glass with a bit more force than necessary. “It’s because I have a very low tolerance for interaction with other ponies.” She sat up and went to the double doors leading to the balcony, tossing them open, with Macintosh following behind. “Sometimes I’m able to overcome this by, say, buying an entire floor of an apartment building. Other times it…holds me back.”
The Canterlot skyline was lit in bright lights. Though much taller buildings surrounded Octavia’s apartment, the ninth floor was still high enough to look down on the terrain at the base of the mountain. Mac squinted to see the silhouette of Ponyville snuggled within the darkness, only a few twinkles of light visible amongst the houses. The sky above held no stars, but Mac could see the full moon above. That was something, at least.
Macintosh thought for a moment as he looked at the view. “Does this got anything to do with what you were supposed to celebrate today?” he asked.
Octavia sighed and leaned her chin on the railing. “The Canterlot Symphony Orchestra rejected me.”
“Oh,” Macintosh said, unsure of what to say. “Well…Ah’m sure with a bit of practice—”
“Don’t insult me,” Octavia snapped. She turned to him with a glare and stepped forward. “I don’t need practice. I am the best, Macintosh. I am the best cellist, I am the best composer, I am the best musician. Don’t take it as a boast but as a simple fact acknowledged by ponies both in and out of the musical circles of Canterlot. The only reason the Symphony rejected me was because they didn’t need another cellist. Imagine that!” She kicked the railing with a back hoof, but only the softest sound of reverberating metal rang out. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I would have had to take a smaller salary if I was accepted. It’s better this way.” She shook her head and leaned against the railing again. “Enough about me. Let’s hear of your dashed dreams.”
Macintosh looked up at the purple sky for a bit before speaking. “Ain’t so much dashed dreams as it is just coming to my senses.”
“So you’re completely fine with being underutilized and underappreciated?”
“Ah wouldn’t put it like that,” Macintosh said. “Ah’m just takin’ it easy that’s all. Besides, so long as my family is happy, then Ah’m happy.”
“I see,” Octavia said. “Are you happy?”
Macintosh said nothing. A breeze picked up, giving a chill to the otherwise warm summer night.
“Can I tell you a story, Macintosh?” Octavia asked.
“Sure, what ya got?”
“My first cello came from the dumpster of a music store,” Octavia began.
“Ah remember,” Mac said. “It only had one string.”
“Exactly,” Octavia said. “Though it was made of the finest dumpster-grade plywood. I learned everything I could from that cello, trying to get every single sound from that one string. I became a street performer, and I soon made enough to afford a dingy apartment and a daily meal. As my talent grew so did the amount of bits I earned. Soon enough I was able to buy a proper cello. Nothing fancy, just practical. Do you know what I did with that one string cello, Macintosh?”
“Nnope,” Mac said, “but Ah figure that’s what the point of the story is.”
Octavia shot him a glare, but continued anyway. “I gave it its missing strings, and gave it to another little pony that needed it more than I did. And that is the point of my story. You can’t tie your happiness to a thing or a pony or a group of ponies. For me, I am at my happiest when playing a cello. Not just my first cello, or my second, or even the one I have now. That’s how it works. You find what makes you happy and you do it. So I ask you, Macintosh, what makes you happy?”
To Mac’s surprise, he didn’t have to think very long. “Well, Ah gotta admit, Ah was pretty happy when Ah was cookin’.”
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she said with a smug smirk. “So why don’t you enroll in culinary school or—”
“Ah don’t think it was just cookin’,” Mac interrupted. He stared down at the street below, watching as the rare passer-by walked beneath them. “Ah like cookin’ for ponies Ah care about. Ah guess…Ah like takin’ care of the ponies Ah care about.”
“Well,” Octavia said, “that’s a bit more difficult.” She stared off toward the royal palace, its spires the highest constructed points in all of Canterlot. They were mostly dark except for a few lighted windows near their peaks. “Why don’t you move in with me?”
“What?” Mac said, his eyes widening as he took a step back from the force of her statement. “Move in with you? Octavia, We ain’t even had our first kiss yet, or any of the other things couples are supposed to do before they move in together.”
Octavia chuckled. “Supposed to do? Couples aren’t supposed to do anything. It’s not as if there’s some binding process. To you, a relationship might be a slow progression from one act or circumstance to another, but for me it’s simply a line of decisions to be made.”
“So you’ve already decided on whether you’d kiss me or not,” Mac said.
“Yes,” Octavia said, “and for your information, I’ll make many more decisions in about five minutes.”
“Five minutes?”
“It’s when the last train to Ponyville leaves.”
“Oh,” Mac said, his cheeks starting to burn. “Well…then what made ya decide that me movin’ in wouldn’t be so bad? You don’t seem the type to give up your privacy so easy.”
Octavia smirked but told him nothing. She finished her drink and went inside with her empty glass. “It’s getting cold out,” she said.
Mac rolled his eyes, but finished his own drink and followed her in nonetheless. “So you’re sayin’ that, if Ah wanted to, Ah could just move in tomorrow, and you wouldn’t mind.”
“Not one bit,” Octavia said. “Consider it. After all, you said you were happy cooking for me, and honestly I didn’t mind either. Not only that, but if you wanted work, I’m sure you could find something. You know Fancy Pants, and I’m sure he would be happy to give you a job. I’ll even help you write a résume. Or if you would rather farm, I’m sure I could buy the surrounding lots and lease it to you with very fair terms.”
“Ah appreciate the offer,” Mac said with a smile, “but there’s still work for me to do on Sweet Apple Acres. Heck, our harvest time is comin’ up real soon. That’s gonna keep me busy for a while.”
“Fair enough,” Octavia said. “Far be it from me to convince you otherwise.”
Macintosh nodded and remained silent for a long time. He looked up at a clock hanging above a bookcase. It was already past midnight. Octavia followed his gaze. “I suppose it is getting late,” she said. “The last train to Ponyville just left, and there won’t be another until morning. Would you like to sleep in my room?”
“Ah wouldn’t want to inconvenience ya,” Macintosh said.
“No, Macintosh, I mean with me.”
Mac’s cheeks burned hot as he realized what she meant. He stuttered as he tried to properly articulate a respone. “Ah-well-ya see-”
Thankfully, Octavia quickly put him out of his misery with a smile and a hoof raised to his lips. “Calm down before you have a heart attack. I completely understand. There’s a guest room behind the door across mine.” She removed her hoof and used it to stifle a yawn. “Sweet dreams,” she said, heading for her room.
There was something about her tone: a watered down, almost playful version he often heard when she was denigrating another pony. Macintosh rolled his eyes, and quickly said something to defend himself. “We haven’t even had our first kiss yet,” he reminded her.
Octavia turned around with a smirk that tied his stomach into a knot. Wordlessly she stepped toward him, and his heart skipped a beat when she came close enough for him to feel her breath on the tip of his nose. His mind raced, trying to figure out what he should do. Close his eyes? Pucker his lips? Object to the whole thing?
Mac didn’t get a chance to do anything or to feel anything as Octavia took a step past him so that her lips were right by his ears. “Believe me, Big Macintosh Apple, that can be easily remedied.” She chuckled quietly and headed for her room once again. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.
Mac, alone with his thoughts and a few dozen pounds of dessert, sighed and started putting away the leftovers. Unfortunately, the task only took him about twenty minutes. When he was finished the kitchen was spotless, he was still wide awake, and Octavia’s words still occupied his head. He went to the cupboard beneath the sink and pulled out the sheets of paper and pencil he had seen earlier. There was no putting it off anymore, and it might allow him to gather his thoughts. He took the pencil and sat down to write a letter.
Dear Princess Celestia,
I hate to admit it, but ever since you told me to write this letter I’ve hardly thought about it. I guess I’ve been avoiding it. The truth is that, while I know I’ve learned something, I’m not sure how to put it into words. How do you put together all the small lessons learned bit by bit into one great big epiphany? Especially when there never was that sort of spark when you suddenly know what’s what. Things happened a lot slower than that for me.
Considering everything, I think the most important thing I’ve learned is
Macintosh put down his pencil. What had he learned? How to let go? How to deal with a family that outgrew you? How good friends can help you cope? None of those things seemed right. Maybe he should write about how he learned to take it easy. To not worry so much and just enjoy life as it came. To not get so caught up with work as to forget what really mattered. Maybe those were closer to what he wanted to say. Mac sighed, and decided to skip that part for now.
Even with all the things I’ve learned, I’m still unsure of the direction I’m heading. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my family and the farm don’t need me like they used to. Now what?
Big Macintosh looked up from his paper at Octavia’s door. Her light was still on.
Do I just go to the next pony that needs
He erased that last word. No, that wasn’t the right one. Wants? Accepts? Cares for? Can make use of? Mac shook his head, unable to come up with the right word. He would just have to come back to it later.
I just want my family to be happy.
No, that wasn’t exactly right.
I just want my family to be happy.
Why did he feel so guilty about that?
Mac crumpled the sheet of paper, and then tore it up for good measure. That was enough writing for today. Macintosh discarded the scraps of paper and walked to one of the bookcases nearby, idly skimming the rows of titles. It looked like Princess Celestia would have to wait a little longer for his friendship report, and it looked like he needed to start thinking more about it. He just needed to find that common ribbon, the one that, when pulled, would tie everything together into a neat little bow. Something that could be summarized in a letter.
Maybe he was just overthinking things. He wished he could be more like Octavia in that regard. Just make a decision with no regard to its rightness or wrongness. Act and react. It might be simplistic, but there was something very attractive about it.
With a sigh, Macintosh decided that he had done enough thinking for the day, and perhaps enough for many more days to come. With nothing else to do he decided to go to bed, heading for the door to the left of the balcony.
The room inside was barren to say the least. Nothing but a bed with white sheets, a nightstand, and a lamp. There was a closet tucked in a corner filled with pillows and sheets. Mac smiled as he saw them. Perhaps Octavia put them there so she wouldn’t have to hear complaints from her guests about being too cold. The room looked more like one he would find in a hotel than in someone’s home. Not exactly comforting. He suddenly realized how far away from home he was. He missed the sounds of the apple orchard; the sound of rustling leaves beneath the stars.
Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was time to move on. Leave the house he grew up in, like normal ponies are supposed to do. Besides, if he were to live in Canterlot it wouldn’t be so far away, only a train ride would separate him and his friends and family. That didn’t sound so bad. Mac turned around and leaned against the door frame, staring out across the living room at Octavia’s door.
Her light was still on.
Stats
Page generated in 0.031 seconds
Total duration
963 users online
201,978 hits today, 2,054,621 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Excellent. But then, I knew it would be.
I love this fanfic. It's simple, as the title implies, yet filled with characterisation (I hope that's how it's spelled) for a not-explored character like the Big M.
All in all, great work. Waiting for the next chapter!
>Big Mac x Mane 6
>not romance
Such a waste.
Please direct all your downvotes to this comment.
Do it Mac, go to that door and show that mare why your called "Big" Mac.
Am I the only one thinking, "Go for it Mac, GO FOR IT!"
Squee!
Now THIS is good romance writing. No smooth linear buildup towards "and then they kissed"... Small, tentative steps that aren't followed through on. Questions that don't get an answer right away. Proposals that are considered for a while, declined, and then reconsidered.
Then again, that's the big appeal of Keeping it Simple as a whole: you never rush straight to the point. You take things slow, let 'em develop. That makes this story perhaps the closest thing to lit fic this fandom has produced.
If all writers put as much patience and care into developing their characters and plotlines as you do, Fimfiction would be a much, much happier place.
So the flu chapter was canon. Did you change the ending then? Or was Dash starting to have a fever dream?
I am glad you decided to keep "The Flu", Ivory Piano.
I found it to be a very good chapter, and had some elements in it that, now established, make this chapter much better.
So Octavia is a tsundere? Definitely a unique approach to the character.
Can't wait to see more of her backstory.
This chapter pleases me as usual, but I just find the whole thing so very strange. For some reason, I don't feel this pairing like the others you've hinted at in this story. This may be in part because I know women like this - they are never straight-forwards; they use cold words and distant actions as a defense mechanism, and when you feel like you're finally reaching them, they turn around and make you question why you even bothered in the first place. This relationship makes me physically uneasy, and it should not - these are cartoon horses, and this is mere story. Perhaps it is because it hits too close to my own life, or perhaps it is because I have become empathetic to your characters - I feel as if these are living, breathing people with their own hopes, dreams and lives. They're not cookie-cutter characters, and the amount of love you've crafted them with often brings me to weep with emotions I have often thought dead or dormant with me; primarily insecurity. This story had forced me to look at my life and ask myself the very same thing - "Am I Happy?" Honestly, I don't know anymore... I have a wife. I have a job. I have a house. I have family and friends. For all intents and purposes, I am living the dream... but... I've had to give up so much along the way. I've given up friends and family, I've given up my mental well-being and the false sense of security I had developed before my deployment to Afghanistan.... I still have waking terrors and flashes of violent anger. If I were to be truthful, I am not happy - not in the least, and I feel that I am being selfish because of that. This story has helped me to be objective about it, and that is probably why it is par none my favorite story on this entire site; it makes me think - that's what art does... You are an artist, and this story is your Opus Dei.
God bless you in your endeavors, sir. I can only hope the best for you and your own.
Thank you. Until next time.
4184120
Couldn't have said it better m'self!
I am speechless by how this chapter makes everything fall together.
Why must you tease us? This is the most amazing romance story I've read in long time, it's written so well, but the only problem is that it's not a romance story! I don't even have the words to express how much I want you to make a little AU fic, kinda like you did with Pinkie, and have all the potential paramours just blind side the big lug and have a shotgun wedding. God I love this story.
Not much I can say.
I'm really hoping Mac goes through that door maybe all he's missing in his life is a mare by his side.
A bittersweet note to end it on, but oh so glad to see it.
Good to see you're still working on this.
I still think applejack was too hard on him. Not even letting him take care of his sick family, of herself. Making him lose years of gains!
He's gonna end up a scrawny farmer with no farm to farm.
4184247 I gotta admit, I feel rather similarly. This chapter is definitely disquieting, chiefly at the end.
If it was possible to feel happiness all the time everyone would just do that.
If it was possible to be completely satisfied, no one would do anything ever.
We need chalenges and adversity for anything to truly have meaning.
Mac seems to have everything he could ever need to be both happy and satisfied, yet challenged.
Funny how we all end up being our own antagonists.
Tch. Looks like you lose, Rarity. That's what you get for letting him get out that door.
4184120
Agreed. This is as close to masterwork as anything I have ever seen. I can't get enough!
4184077
I would love him to do it too, but there is pain ahead if he does. Mac was raised a family man, and Octavia lacks that kind, nurturing atmosphere that he would want in his own family. They have a lot of fun bantering, and Mac finds her to be an enticing enigma, but their paths will quickly diverge and I predict Mac will be quite disappointed if things get too serious. Then again, that would be a great lesson for him to learn. On all other accounts, Octavia matches him wonderfully and I so wish that it could work.
If these chapters were made more frequently, it would make me so happy
I suppose he should take Octavia up on her offer, seeing as how every character back in Ponyville comes across as someone he has to endure, at best, and yet Octavia's behavior never bothers him in the least.
GIVE HER THE D
After that adorable moment of weakness with Dash I almost feel disappointed.
But then, I'm biased towards Dashie, so no biggies.
Excellent chapter, even if Octavia is just too weird for me.
Great Chapter like always and
Dr. Evil: Throw me a frickin' bone here Applejack all i want are some Big Macintosh's doing what he wants to do
It feels like the mane 6 are still hiding something from Big Mac. He's not dying is he?
Octavia wants the M. C'mon Mac, she likes you!
One hell of a chapter ending, bravo!
Really happy to see another update on this story, you write it so well, Ivory. I love your deep characterization of Big Mac, I like the way you portray Octavia, and I like the subtle teasing and character interaction between her and Mac. Just keep it going, man. I'm always looking forward to the next update. Also, if you are looking for someone to pre read/edit for you, let me know. I work on a few really large stories with some other folks. I like this story a lot, so I'm more than happy to work with you if you need any help.
To Gustauve :
I first want to say to you, Thank you for your service, you gave of yourself for those of us at home to have the good lives we take all to often for granted.
You also said many things that hit home. My feelings were echoed in your statements. While I have many favorite stories on this site, this one is the one I truly look forward to reading the most, mostly because, like you noted, the characters are so lovingly handled. I don't know about anyone else, but when I read a good story I feel like I am there with the characters. In this story, however, I feel like not only am I in the room, but that I could turn and see, feel, taste, and smell the subtle nuances for myself with no need of the author to tell me about it.
To the Author:
I like this story because I often wonder how BM interacts with his sister's friends, and this story goes right to the heart of that question. It also features BM, which I feel is an often underutilized character in the show. This fiction makes these charters more alive for me and only serves to deepen my appreciation for the show and it's thoughtful fan-base even more.
A fantastic though strangely disquieting chapter, sir. Octavia's got some fantastic depth to her personality, though I still get the sense that we're only scratching the surface. I love that he's still thinking about that letter, and I think it's going to be pretty interesting if he stays in Canterlot for a while. Would be cool to see the shenanigans he gets up to, and who he might bump into along the way (I have a few names at the top of my list
).
Also, I'm extremely happy that you decided to keep the last chapter. That new ending kicked me right in the heartstrings, though. Can't wait until the next chapter.
As I read this, I can't help but get the impression that Applejack isn't so much trying to get Mac to "take it easy" as she is trying to totally cut him out of her life for... some reason. If Mac's working or doing something that he traditionally has enjoyed his entire life, AJ isn't happy. She doesn't want him to help on the chores, she doesn't want to hear how she's essentially taken over as the workhorse of the farm, and she really doesn't want her big brother to act like a big brother. It's bizarre and more than a little upsetting, if you think about it from Mac's point of view.
My thought at the end was: BOW CHICKA WOW WOW!
Big Mac has gotten smaller. That harness Rarity made him doesn't fit anymore. He has lost muscle mass it would seem. I feel like that Mac is going to leave Ponyville and live with Octavia at SOME point. Not sure when.
Maybe when Applejack just pushes him away to much. Because Big Mac feels unwanted amongst his closet family. That's a feeling no one wants to have happen. And I think that might end up with Big Mac leaving. Why stay when you don't feel wanted and what you want doesnt matter.and you get 'in trouble' for doing work and something you like/love?
4185722
Yeah, this whole thing practically feels like a terminal patient story, now that you mention it. The mane 6 all giving him a lot of attention, Applejack doing all the chores and making him "enjoy life," or whatever. Even Twilight's philosophy, especially the existentialism, seems to hint at this. Certainly puts a new vibe on things.
When Big Mac finishes that friendship letter, whenever that may be, he should deliver it by walking just inside of the throne room and throwing it as a paper dart, and then suspiciously back track out of the castle. Backwards.
I know it's not his style but it would be quite the surprise if it were actually pinkie in disguise.
That was... thought provoking. It was probably one of the most three-dimensional and emotionally-touching characterisations of the fan-character that is Octavia Philharmonica that I've read. It really exposes the sort of mental and emotional conditions that come with such high-flying and high-achieving personalities (which we also see to a certain extent in Rarity, Rainbow and Twilight). Octavia, though, clearly shares Rarity's 'creative obsession' and takes it to a new level. She'd clearly been in the 'zone', creatively, and neglecting herself. So desperate to pull the tune out of her head that she's ended up scrawling it on the walls all around her. It's a borderline-autistic behaviour and, thinking about it, there are elements of autism in how she was reacting to Mac. She wants somepony to be there fore her but she's having a hard time describing it except in selfish terms.
Big Mac doesn't know it but he's already found the point of his letter to Princess Celestia. He's admitted to himself that he's looking for meaning and happiness. Now he's got to find out what the source of that is. He finds joy in helping others. Might that be a clue?
Wow! Just wow! This chapter is amazing!
This is the kind of detailed writing I was hoping for and you pulled through. It was almost as if I were there at her place. Also, I applaud how a lot of consideration was put into Octavia's character. Not just that, but their actions really gave me a good picture of them too. For instance, when she said she bought an entire floor, I thought of her as materialistic. Even the show of money felt a little materialistic as well, but more common. In real life, people show off their money as well, perhaps in a more subtle way. But then it was revealed that it was only because she wanted to be alone in order to compose or practice. A lot of the comments showed a lot of hesitation towards her because her intentions are not exactly clear. But that also applies to Big Mac as well. He couldn't even formulate his letter, albeit answer the question of whether or not he was happy (One of the best scenes of this fic by far
). In this way, maybe Big Mac and Octavia are actually a lot more similar than one might suspect. Either way, I'm looking forward to what Big Mac decides to do next. 
Given that final scene I had hoped to make some fast-food double-entendre , but couldn't think of a thing. No, it's true: as surely as I'm riding this bicycle.
Nice work as always. I could quibble about the use of "drunk" versus "drank," and you seem to rely on "smirk" to indicate any slight smile (I don't think it means what I think you think it means...), but aside from that the prose is very readable and says things I want to read.
I'm genuinely interested in the characters and care about them. That's as good a reason as any to follow a series--and unlike Game of Thrones they won't all die every few episodes.
The thing that makes me uneasy in this is the notes that Mac is losing weight. He's losing the bulk of a lifetime of labor by being denied his exersize. Don't go all gangly and skinny on us Mac!
I really hope that Mac does not take that invitation.
Not only do I think that him and Octavia are not really comparable here, but it really depresses me that those he left in Ponyville are being friend zoned like that. Rarity and Dash have done so much for Mac, for him to keep turning them down (even though only Rarity has been aggressive about it) just because they actually know him is really depressing for me.
Big Mac has spent only eight or so hours with Octavia total. I hate when people make life altering decisions because of people they hardly know.
I recall this line, or something similar, in an episode of Catscratch.
4190594
If this turns into Terms of Endearment then some of us shall smart for it.
4184077
I'm honestly kind of hoping he doesn't. I don't think it's the wrong choice exactly, but it would involve leaving home (and Sweet Apple Acres is very clearly still where home is for him at the moment) and a bunch of loved ones that he obviously doesn't want to leave even he's considering moving on from the farm.
Also, doing that would make for more scenes with sad Rarity. I can't take any more sad Rarity. Sad Rarity makes ME sad. And I like being happy, dammit!
With every chapter I'm amazed at how you pull the reader into Big Macintosh's mind. I'm wondering where this story is possibly going to end up; we seem to have lost purpose and be looking for something without knowing what. Happiness and contentment, sure, but it's more than that. The beginning seems so long ago I can hardly remember where this all started.
[Edit after reading this the second time to refresh my mind for the newest chapter:]
I love the relationship between Mac and Octavia. Mac is nonplussed by Octavia's brutal honesty, and however smooth and disarming she may be, he can still figure her out. I find myself with conflicting thoughts after this; On one hand, I feel like Mac should go for it, but on the other, that would sacrifice his character. He could go down either path and it would work for the story. I'll eagerly click forward to the new chapter and see what comes next.
I shall forget you presently, my dear
So make the most of this, your little day
Your little month, your little half a year
Ere I forget, or die, or move away
And we are done forever. By and by
I shall forget you, as I said, but now
If you entreat me with your loveliest lie
I will protest you with my favorite vow.
I would indeed that love were longer-lived
And oaths were not so brittle as they are
But so it is, and nature has contrived
To struggle on without a break thus far:
Whether or not we find what we are seeking
Is idle, biologically speaking.
--Edna St. Vincent Millay.
4184247 it might be that Octavia is the closest to a real person that he has written. Everyone else is a little bit more of a caricature of a person. Octavia brings real relationship problems and real questions. It is much closer to being an actual thing.
4193535 Hey, he doesn't owe rainbow dash or rarity anything when it comes to a romantic relationship. In fact, because he knows them better it might actually discourage a relationship from forming easily. People don't like risking good things they already have. It's much easier for him to want. A relationship with a new pony he met and enjoys the company of, then risk hurting his sisters friends feelings. If something happened if he was dating rarity it could really strain his sisters friendship with them, she would be forced to take sides.