"It just can't work." The mare turned away from the griffon, the lighting casting long shadows across her face, highlighting a visible tear. "We're from different worlds."

"Don't say that!" The griffon threw his hands wide. "Damn the rest of them. Let them talk, why should we care?!"

"I can't live like that!" The mare frowned over her shoulder. "And I don't think you can either..."

"Sweet... I made a promise." The griffon fell to a knee in front of her, just at the right distance to gently cup her equine cheeks in his talons. "I don't plan to break it, ever. We can make this work... together."

"Cut!" came a sudden call. "The lighting on that last line, I hate it. Let's take it from the top."

Human media was becoming world media. Equestria was the first to welcome the upgrades to one of their own theaters. Ponies came from all around to gawp and amaze at the first converted theaters in Manehattan. Though they had seen moving pictures before, they surely had not heard of such innovations as three dimensional viewing, surround sound, and high quality digital soundtracks that were prepared to blow them out of their chairs.

It wasn't that the Seaquestrians would have been against the idea, but water was not air, and getting that equipment down to them and getting them to work underwater was a significantly greater challenge. Their mountain home, while dry, was underdeveloped and rural in comparison. It was only natural that Manehattan get the first theater in the end.

At first existing human movies were shipped over, playing old classics and testing the crowd. What did ponies like to watch?

As it turned out, ponies. They enjoyed the sight of themselves, though the novelty of humans doing strange things drew them in at first. Violent bloodbaths turned more of them off than those it fascinated. Complex dramas left some in the dark, while comedies seemed to work well... to a point.

The more the comedies drew on 'adult' and 'mature' elements, the less likely it was to resonate with ponies, and they weren't very likely to laugh at a random swear word.

As it turned out, they loved Charlie Chaplin in every form he came in. Physical slapstick was immediately accessible and drew cheers and laughs from the equine crowd without any translation of culture required. Excited gossip about the Stooges and their performances swept across Equestria.

Then the romance. Ponies liked a good romance, at least a good portion of them. Human romances fascinated them for its strange alien qualities. But, again, ponies liked watching ponies, so they tried bringing ponies into perform, and soon they had some equine Hollywood actors.

The issue was that there were only a few pony actors in Hollywood in those timid early days, so the ponies would perform alongside human actors, which meant often pairing them up. This provoked reactions from both human and pony audiences, with gasps of scandal and titters of excitement coming from both sides. While some ringed their hands or worried their hooves about the moral fiber of their altered world, others were glued to the media and demanded more of it.

The mere concept of looking for companionship across species lines just wasn't a thing most people, pony or not, had spent much time considering, but watching it happen on the big screen, with big dramatic reveals, twists, and drama, had folks willing to pay for tickets.

One thing Hollywood thoroughly enjoyed was a basic reset in economy. Equestria did not have a blue-ray player in every room. Ponies did not have a computer on average with which to stream movies. When they wanted to watch a movie, they had to actually go to the movies, and that just wasn't that odd to them.

Then there were action flicks. The basic issue was that ponies did not get excited at the sight of blood. It usually turned them right off and enough would send them back to the front to demand their bits back. Amusingly, if a movie was very explicit that it was about the blood, say a horror movie, then only ponies who were interested in being scared showed up, and enjoyed themselves.

But add blood to a movie not about being scared? It just didn't work for ponies.

Actors dodging explosions, performing high-flying swings from collapsing platforms, and even pitched brawls with bad people for the fate of the world were all things ponies seemed to like, until the actions led to either party becoming a bloody mess. Anything more than a single cut or perhaps two to show how dangerous the action had been was too much. Bruises were fine, curiously. An actor could look battered and broken, but broken skin was just a taboo ponies would not abide.

Then came the adaptations. Looking for ideas that would become a huge movement, Hollywood sent its wily tendrils through pony media and found it. Daring Do, pony adventuress of considerable fame. She already had conventions dedicated to just her, a specific figure. She was action packed. She was Hollywood-Approved.

They just had to secure the movie rights. Throw some money at the author, and that would be that, right?

A human softly knocked on the door on the small house that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. "Miss Yearling?"

There was no answer, so he tried once more. "Anyone home?" He glanced aside at the pony that had led him there, and the stallion just shrugged.

The door cracked open a precious inch, a chain clearly holding it shut. "Who is it?"

The human perked up. "Ah, yes. I represent a movie studio that would like to secure the rights to make movies based on your book series. Have you--"

"You're a human," noted the mostly-hidden Yearling. Her gaze swept past him to the pony that shied back. "Thanks..."

"He paid good bits and he doesn't seem like a bad person," shamefully defended the stallion, a hoof behind his head.

Yearling rolled her visible eye. "Yes, well, adaptation you say?"

The human looked surprised. "Yes, actually. Has this happened before?" He had expected the author to be more wowed at the idea, and to perhaps need some of it explained.

"There is a play based on the second book and a video game based on the first," recounted Yearling. "I'm not new to the idea of people wanting to make versions of my books." The door closed, but the sound of metal on metal was heard, then it opened back up a little wider. "Show me what you have," invited the wide-glassed author. "What silly thing do you have in mind?"

"Not silly at all," he assured. "We want to respect your character, Daring Do. She's quite a cultural phenomenon, and we understand that. We want to show off her best qualities." He ducked down into the building with his folder of teaser photos in his briefcase to share with her. "It'll also give us a chance to bring her to new audiences. American viewers--"

"--viewers? What will this be, a play, game?" She shoved some clutter off a table, clearing it with a hoof-sweep and moving to get some tea going.

"Movie. Have you seen American movies before?"

"Can't say I have." She returned and set the tea kettle down and put two cups next to it. "I've seen pony ones, cute, not as good as a real play."

He had seen pony movies as well, charmingly antiquated. "Daring Do deserves better than that." He set down the first photo, a dramatically shadowed outline of Daring Do. "We are ready to make one of her adventures come to life. Using a combination of computer-assisted animation and traditional effects, we can bring her to the screen in a way that will leave your fans squealing with joy."

AK Yearling peered at the photo, faint promise that it was of something that could be interesting, or not... "You'll need a pony to play her, I imagine?"

"Of course, we have a few actresses in mind." Not that there were that many Hollywood pony actresses available, yet.

"I have one you should look into." She lifted an ear. "I also trust her to see that you don't take too many liberties with my work. What do I get?"

"$5,000 for a year option. If green-lit, which I predict will happen shortly, 2%, capped at $300,000." He rattled off the numbers without pause, as if he had them ready long beforehand.

She cocked a brow. "I'm sorry, in bits?"

He repeated the figures in a scale she understood.

Yearling was quiet a moment, tapping a hoof lightly on the ground. "Interesting... But I wasn't born yesterday. I want points."

"Net?"

"Gross," spoke AK with an acidic tone. "I'm not as isolated as I appear. I know how this works. I go net, and suddenly there will never be a net profit. I want points on the profit. You want this, you pay." She tossed down a card with a flip of her head. "And look her up."

The agent accepted the card, advertising it to be for the 'Rainbow Dash Fan Club'. "Is this who you wanted to play the part?"

"If you can't use her for that, keep her as a consultant. As I said, I trust her word for keeping the feel of things on track. You make a movie that wows her and you'll be on the right track." She pointed back at the door the human had come through. "If that's all?"

"It Was a Matter of Time," reported one Internet article. The first native celebrity to succumb to the trying life of living in the lime light had surfaced. The mare that had won the hearts of movie-goers was found face down in a pile of sugar. But it wasn't sugar.

Trying to keep up with the fast paced world of humanity had been trying for her and she turned to drugs to smooth things out, tempted by a co-star on one stressful night. She dipped a timid hoof in, only to fall right into the hole, never to emerge. She almost immediately began to degrade, acting out and becoming useless on takes, getting fired, and eventually found there, in her large and well-appointed home, dead.

She had left a letter, penned before she took her final dose.

To any other ponies,

Ever wonder why humans only live about 70-80 years long? They burn so hot. They burn so fast. Every day is an oncoming train of stresses and hurry. Hurry up and do this. Hurry up and do that. Now hurry up and wait. They rush from birth to death, impatient even for that at times, and I guess I am too now.

When you find this, I'll probably be dead. It'll be the first time in so long I can stop hurrying. I'll just... relax, and get some sleep, some real sleep. That sounds really nice right now.

Please Don't Follow Me,

Her passing did not stop others from coming to replace her. She was followed in full defiance of her final wishes, though other native actors were more shy about human recreational drugs. The only sugar they wanted was the kind that made a chocolate brownie better.

A sternly written letter from Celestia urged that her people, living in America or not, should be given time to decompress, but she had no authority over Hollywood, and though well-intentioned, that letter changed very little.

On her bones, Hollywood continued to grow and evolve. It was a new world, and they had new audiences to amaze and wow. They were already looking at the other species of the world, each a unique puzzle to break open and get the money to fall out of, and they meant to do it.

At least she was given an opulent funeral. Fully televised and attended by far too many of her fans. Her rest would have to wait a few more days.

Author's Notes:

I was asked how the media's doing, so this chapter is that. Hollywood man, what an animal it is.

AK Yearling ain't being scammed though. She knows her stuff.

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