Wild ate, Wild slept, and Wild... was bored. Days passed, none of them special or truly interesting despite the excitement he got each time he used his magic to the fullest he could. Just pumping out his power was fun, but he lacked proper knowledge to take full advantage of it, to make it truly spectacular and worthwhile. The best he could do was summon lightning, which made him laugh in euphoria each time he did it. The lightning was brighter than anything he had ever seen in his life, and the way it thundered and shook the ground made him feel like he was holding all the power in the world.

When he was alone, he imagined himself a powerful dark sorcerer. He walked with his head held high, imagining himself wearing a black hooded robe and feeling it swish as he moved.

“So, you have come to me to ask for my aid,” he said, his voice as low and as smooth as he could make it, imagining a council of warriors and mages sitting at the dining table, “The situation must then be truly hopeless if that is... if that is what you lowered yourselves to.”

He imagined how they said it wasn’t their choice, how their hand was forced, and how they needed his power to be on their side.

“Ah, I see,” he chuckled darkly, “The power of light isn’t... The power of light is not so strong now, is it? Hm, no...” he cleared his throat, “Now you see that your light is not as powerful as... No, not right, hmm... Now you finally realize that the Dark Side is where true power lies.”

He made his way around the table, walking slowly, imagining them all looking at him warily yet not daring to contradict him. He held the power, and without him, they would fail in their quest to bring down the true evil. Because he was not true evil, he had standards, lines that he would never cross, in fantasy inside his own head or in reality. He knew he could imagine himself as a hero, but he had known for a long time that being the villain was much more fun. They all got pretty nice-looking things, after all, at least when it came to looks. As a child, he had, as many others did, a fascination with Darth Vader. Strong, tall, powerful - it was everything he had wanted to be back then, even if his childish mind ignored the fact that Darth Vader was, without a single doubt, not a good person.

“Perhaps I will help you,” he said, letting out a small laugh as his internal story progressed, “I am thirsting for a proper fight. To lay waste to them... It will be marvelous.”

He knew what he was doing was childish, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, certainly not now. It was fun, and that was far more important than whatever opinion others might have about it. It wasn’t like anyone would even see it in the first place, not unless he let them. Besides, what harm was in doing it? He wasn’t going to become some sort of evil sorcerer despite the power he would soon posses. He had no interest in ruling or making others obey. In truth, all he needed this power for was to make certain that others would not disturb him and his peace. With this power, he could make sure he would not be hurt ever again, and if he still ends up falling in harm’s way, then whoever did it to him would be... very regretful.

Most importantly, he would never have to give up control involuntarily, and no one would be able to make him submit. Never again.

Aside from his silly little fantasies, he occupied his time with reading. All the imaginary scenarios in his head couldn’t possibly alleviate his boredom completely, after all. He even went as far as trudging through the magical theory books where he had to consult with a dictionary very frequently in order to understand at least the gist of it, even if it was mostly futile since he lacked a lot of basic knowledge. Certainly, no dictionary could help him make sense of various theories about how exactly magic worked. Matrixes, equations, thaum theory, and more were far too much for his far too undereducated mind to properly understand. It also reminded him far too much of his experience at school, of the difficulties he had with things others seemed to breeze through, so he doubted he would ever actually go into this field of study - or perhaps any field of study at all. He wanted to cast magic, not sit around all day theorizing about how it is cast.

Wild did not really care about the whys and the hows of magic’s existence, and it appeared his way of thinking wasn’t uncommon. He had learned that it was relatively rare for anyone to study the depths of magic - most used it in their daily lives, and that was about it. The most important part about magic was that it existed and that it worked, and that there was a consistency to it that had, so far, never been disturbed in the history of the world - aside from perhaps the Era of Discord as well as the most recent reappearance of the Spirit of Chaos. Wild was glad he hadn’t been there to experience it personally, considering the accounts of Discord’s actions he had read about happening during that ancient era.

Wild found further reprieve in lighter reading, namely fiction. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem so impressive anymore now that he was living in a world full of magic where the impossible was a daily inescapable reality. Sun and moon didn’t even move by themselves, and the very idea seemed so outrageous that no book he had read so far even considered using it in their fictional world. Same, naturally, was with weather control. ‘The Tale of Lands Beyond’ was one of the books that interested him at first, but those ‘lands beyond’ seemed like just an extension of Equestria without the princesses. Wild found himself quickly losing interest afterwards, considering that it wasn’t much more than an adventure novel with a party of adventurers who, predictably, had adventures and went on some noble quest. He would much rather watch Lord of the Rings again. Perhaps read it too. He briefly wondered whether he’d be able to bring it to Equestria, but quickly discarded the idea - he didn’t have much artistic talent, and he would only butcher what he liked by trying to piece together old memories into something at least somewhat cohesive. Lord of the Rings was, in his opinion, an excellent movie trilogy, and he had rewatched it until he had nothing to rewatch it on, especially as his life progressed and he drifted off to different things. It was a shame, but he knew his limits, and writing books or directing movies were talents far outside his own. Besides, he distinctly remembered that Tolkien, the author of the Lord of the Rings book, was extremely talented when it came to languages and had many experiences Wild didn't have, which resulted in him basically redefining fantasy and introducing many of the now-common things. Wild was very aware that languages - or at least inventing them - wasn't in any way part of his talents, and he didn't really have much else to offer. His experiences, perhaps, could be made into a book - he was reasonably certain that what he had done was worthy of something like that, maybe relegated to some dusty shelf in the fantasy section of a book store back on Earth.

More than half of the fiction on the shelves where he was were, however, various romance novels. A good number of them featured straight romance and thus was of no interest to Wild. When it came to gay romances, he disregarded the one about two nobles immediately - it just wasn’t relatable to him at all. What use was reading about all that court intrigue and whatever else when he was not a noble? They would have little difficulty in getting together, as far as he was concerned, aside from their weird political half-backstabbing and talking encyclopedia-book-worths of nothing around each-other. This was the sort of nonsense he could freely discard and feel nothing bad about. There was another story, one of a knight falling in love with a farmer, but Wild ceased reading it about a quarter through when he realized where it was going. In this book, homophobia was clearly apparent, and there was no way there would be a happy ending. Wild had no desire to read a tragedy.

Wild would give a lot to have the internet at his fingertips again. Even if it meant he would just mindlessly watch YouTube video after YouTube video about various different topics with no application to his life. Having a computer would still be worth it if he got to play some computer games, however. There was only so much reading he could do before growing restless and desiring some better stimulation of his brain.

Fortunately for him, Luna had brought him something interesting.

“This is a two-way notebook,” she explained as she gave him the item, “There is another notebook that I have given to your friends. What you write here, they will also see, and the other way around is true as well. If you tear a page from it, it will remain connected to the same page on the other notebook.”

Wild nodded in thanks as he accepted it as well as a multi-color pen. It was made entirely of some kind of metal and clicked relatively loudly when he switched colors: red, green, blue, and black.

“This is a recent invention,” Luna explained, “A ball-point pen with multiple colors, all done without magic... A mechanical marvel at this small of a scale.”

“A marvel?” Wild asked. It seemed pretty simple to him.

“When it comes to writing, certainly,” Luna told him, “I have grown up when quills were the usual instrument for writing. Certainly more elegant than a ball-point pen, but I can appreciate the simplicity of this one as well.”

After checking that everything was fine with him as well as helping Wild burn through his magic, Luna left him. Wild opened the notebook and saw he already had a message.

Precision: Hey Wild, you alright?

Swingblade: How did you do it? Heard Trixie is nasty.

Artful: Hope you’re alright, and I wish you quick recovery.

Wild thought for a moment, picked color black on the pen, and wrote.

Wild: I am alright. I will be in Canterlot maybe for a week or maybe longer.

When no immediate answer came, he put the notebook and the pen down. At least he now had some sort of instant - or hopefully instant - way of writing to his... friends. He could perhaps call them friends now. It was frustrating how often he wondered about it with no real clear answer in sight because... he could consider them friends. In some way, he did. However, more often than not, he wondered if that was how he truly fell, and he didn't know why he wondered so much about it. He deeply breathed in, then breathed out.

Perhaps he was still making things more complex than they needed to be. He didn't think others were thinking about it that much, certainly not as much as him. So... they were his friends, and he was their friend. That was simple enough... hopefully. Of course, that was not everything - Artful would be the closest friend he had, without a doubt, and others were... alright, he supposed. At least he had someone so that he wouldn’t feel too lonely.

Maybe he should propose a sleepover-

He startled. Where did that thought come from? In truth, he had enjoyed his sleepover with Artful and Jade, that much he could admit, but he wasn’t certain whether he was ready for another one. However, just because he didn’t know that, didn’t mean he didn’t want it. Sleeping close to someone was... nice. He wasn’t entirely against the experience.

However, he did not write that proposal that day, deciding to sleep on it instead. Next day, or the days after that, perhaps he would propose a sleepover. Or perhaps not. He didn’t know, and he wasn’t quite ready to make any sort of final decision yet.

He closed his eyes, breathed in, held it, and then breathed out. In the end, what harm would there be in a sleepover? He knew his friends wouldn’t hurt him. He knew he liked sleeping with someone - even one night of that experience was enough to convince him of that. Perhaps it was some sort of pony instinct that was now part of him or perhaps it was his own desire for closeness.

Precision and Swingblade had never made unwelcome advances towards him. They might joke about... sexual matters, but they had never pushed them on him. Swingblade had once been a bit crass or something of that sort, but even he backed off once it was clear Wild didn’t appreciate what he was saying.

Artful, of course, had never made Wild feel uncomfortable, certainly not because of any actions he took. That was the main reason Wild liked him so much, after all - Artful was respectful of Wild’s boundaries and wishes, and he was, honestly speaking, far too kind to Wild. Wild appreciated it yet couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t deserve it.

The core of the matter was, he could trust those three to be safe to be around with. They wouldn’t hurt him, he knew that. So, perhaps, maybe, he could make... another leap of faith. He trusted Artful, and by extension he put his trust in Jade as well, and perhaps he could extend that trust even further. Besides, he now had more power than he could ever possibly truly need - if they did something bad to him, he would not be powerless to stop them from going too far. Not that he thought that they would ever do that to him, but it wouldn’t hurt to be ready for this, just in case.

He put the notebook in front of him once more and clicked the pen, ready to write down his proposal. He noted that no one had replied to his initial message yet. However, he couldn’t bring himself to lower the pen and start writing. What if it all went wrong? What if he was rejected? To be fair, Artful would probably not reject him, but what of others? What if they didn’t want to sleep close to him? He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case because, in truth, he wasn’t very likable, now was he? A loner with mental issues, that was what he was. How could others tolerate him? How could anyone look at him without disgust in their gaze?

Without a single doubt, if any of them knew what he had done, if any of them knew who he truly was, they would no longer want to be seen with him, let alone to sleep with him. He might have accepted his own sadism, but would others? He knew he would not want to be with someone who was like himself.

Something clicked in his head, and he hurried to his room, dug under the mattress, and finally pulled out his journal. Now that he had it back, and with Luna’s advice on his mind, he opened it and started writing things down.

I feel like others ~~are~~ should be disgusted with me. Because I am a mess. Because I can’t be just a normal person. I don’t know if I feel that way now because of the amulet but I don’t think so.

He paused, tapping the end of the pen against the corner of his mouth as he thought about what to write down next.

I fear my friends would not be my friends if ~~he~~ they knew more about me. And then I would be alone, and I do not want to be alone.

He then paced around his bedroom, then went back to the living room and paced there, both pen and journal in his magical grasp. Luna told him to write his thoughts down, and that was what he did, and yet it was... painful, in a way. He knew he was messed up, he knew others didn’t think the way he did, yet to actually see it, acknowledge it... it brought some perspective to him.

I feel pathetic.

Wild wished he had his good mood back, yet now it seemed it escaped him, slipping away no matter how much he grasped after it, like trying to catch running water. Was it the result of the Alicorn Amulet’s influence on him or was it his brain that was messed up because of who he was? Truthfully, he hoped for the former while knowing it was the latter.

My head is messed up and I want to be normal.

And if Wild were to be normal, then he would stop fretting so much about proposing a sleepover. As a kid, he didn’t think so negatively about it, now did he? He remembered that, although sleepovers never happened back then, he did want them because it would be nice to have friends around. And now that he had some friends, some decent friends, and one of them even a good friend, he could do a sleepover without much issue. Or, at the very least, the only issue would be himself.

Wild steeled himself. If he were to become better, he needed to push through all this, he needed to overcome his fears and uncertainties. A sleepover wasn’t the end of the world, now was it? Why was he so stressed about it?

Wild closed his journal and returned it to its hiding spot. ‘Hiding spot’ was, perhaps, inaccurate - if someone wanted to find it, they would be able to do so easily - but it felt better not having it out in the open.

Wild returned to the living room where he left his notebook - so far, no one had written despite the time his small breakdown had taken. Wild sat down, breathed in, held, breathed out, and then brought the pen to the paper.

That was when knocking came from the entrance door, startling him enough to make him drop his pen. He got up and approached it, wondering why Luna was back so soon, hoping it wasn’t some kind of an emergency concerning him. Did the most recent magical scan she performed on him end up being odd enough to be worrying?

Wild furrowed his brows - something didn’t feel quite right, yet he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Nevertheless, he opened the door. He froze - it was not Luna.

There in front of him, Princess Celestia stood.

“Good afternoon, Wild,” she greeted him in a pleasant voice even as he, without realizing it, took a few steps back, his eyes wide and his ears down, “May I come in?”

Author's Note

Dun dun duuun!

Well, not that dramatic. However, what had happened between Trixie and Wild would not have made it past Celestia's notice, and now... she is here.

Anyway, this is another chapter I'm posting early because it's actually late for me, so I wouldn't be awake for the usual time I post my chapter until I figure stuff out about my messed up sleep again. I wish there was just an easy way to reset things. Ah, I so wish I could go back in time to like 2007 with all the knowledge I have now. Spend some time writing my fanfics in advance so that I could post them pretty much as soon as MLP:FiM released, then maybe do some things to make sure I wouldn't be wanting for money in the nearest future, and, well, many other things.

However, if time travel is possible at all, it doesn't work like going back in time in the current timeline, unless the time travelers of the, hah, past, either died or somehow went entirely unnoticed.

So, I have to deal with what I have, even the annoying things regarding my sleep and all the stuff about my fanfics. Oh well, I get what I get, just like everyone else.