Chapters I grip the steering wheel, fingers stiff from exhaustion. Just a few more minutes and I’ll be in bed. ‘Finally.’ The sound of the turn signal clicking echoes in the quiet car, counting down the seconds until I can park this hunk of junk and crash into my mattress. ‘You can do this Jax, just keep it together a little longer, and you're home free.’
I really needed to stop working so many shifts one after the other, thirty two hours without sleeping. But… how can I say no? They keep offering me the one thing I can't reject, more money.
The light in front of me flips from green to yellow, and I slow to a stop as it turns red. Another minute wasted at a light. I sigh, rolling my neck. "Of course, I hit every red light tonight." I was one red light away from sleeping on a bench.
Then, out of nowhere, as I mused if it was worth it to get to my home, headlights. Bright, blinding, and coming way too fast. There's no time to react. No time to do anything except think, ‘Oh, great,’ before the world slams into me with the sound of shattering glass and twisted metal.
And then... nothing.
I open my eyes, finding myself to be… confused. There was no pain. No sound. No exhaustion. Nothing. Just... white. Endless, empty white, all around me.
‘This kind of reminds of that one episode of Gumball,’
I sit up, or at least I think I do. There’s no floor, no walls. Just me, floating in the middle of a void. My head’s clear. Too clear, considering I should be halfway through a windshield or buried under a bus by now.
"Okay," I mutter. "I’m gonna take a wild guess and say… I’m dead, and this empty sheet of paper is the afterlife."
"Correct," a voice says.
I flinch, jerking my head toward the source. There's an old man standing in front of me. Long beard, white robe, the whole classic wise-man package. He looks like he stepped right out of a children’s storybook.
“Right. Of course, there’s an old man,” I say, not bothering to hide my irritation. Because I was starting to understand where this… entire situation was going, the bus, the old man… the bus, the old man, the cliches.
He blinks, taken aback, before smiling like he's heard this all before. "Jaxon—I mean, Jax, correct? I’m afraid to tell you that you died in a rather unfortunate accident. A bus, to be specific."
Accident my ass. Now that I think about it, the bus came out of nowhere at my side, when there were no streets other than the one in front.
"No kidding," I deadpan, letting out a sigh. “What gave it away? The fact I’m in this blank void talking to a guy who looks like Gandalf’s understudy?”
His smile twitches, but he presses on. “I am here to offer you a new chance—a new life, if you will. You see, when people die, they—”
“Yeah, no thanks,” I interrupt, crossing my arms. “Just send me to the afterlife. I don’t need a redo.”
He stares at me, as if waiting for me to process what he’s saying. “You don’t understand. This is an opportunity for you to live again. A second chance—”
“And I’m telling you, I’m good,” I say, shrugging. “I’ve seen enough anime to know where this is going. You throw me into some ridiculous world that feels like a template by now with how overused it is, I get a bunch of overpowered abilities, and suddenly every girl within a fifty-mile radius can’t keep her hands off me, right? No thanks.”
The old man’s eye twitches, the corner of his mouth pulling into a thin line. “I don’t think you grasp the—”
“No, no, I grasp it just fine,” I cut him off again. “You’re setting me up for some isekai nonsense. Probably a poorly structured one too. Let me guess, I’ll be the chosen one, born with some divine power, blah blah blah, and there’ll be a harem following me around within, what, a week?”
His face hardens. “You unculture mammal! This is not some... nonsense, as you put it. Isekais are the highest form of art, and you should be grateful for the opportunity—”
“Yeah, no.” I bark a laugh. “You’re offering me the plot of every low-budget, uninspired anime out there, I can name ten anime from Crunchyroll with that plot from the top of my head. What’s next? A stat window hovering over my head? Or maybe I’ll have a sword twice my size and zero personality to go with it?”
The old man’s patience finally snaps. His calm, wise expression twists into something more akin to pure frustration. “Enough! You insufferable mortal! Whether you want this or not is irrelevant. I’ve decided, because you insulted the greatest form of entertainment that you will be reincarnated, and yes—” he spits the words out now— “you will be overpowered, a lady’s man, and everything else you so foolishly mock from my precious isekais!”
I just stared at him, there was no way this guy was god with capital G. “So, to punish me for disliking one of the laziest forms of media there is right now, you’re giving me all the clichés? That’s the big plan?”
His face flushes with anger now. “Indeed! If you find this so ridiculous, perhaps experiencing it firsthand will change your tune.”
“Doubt it,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “I mean, how can anyone enjoy something if they have literal cheats for everything?”
“Enough!” His voice booms through the endless white, shaking the very void itself. “You will go, whether you like it or not!”
The ground—or lack of ground—seems to drop out beneath me. I fall, the white stretching into blinding light, and before I can even think to protest, everything fades.
‘Ugh…’ My head feels like it’s been put through a blender. I groan, blinking against the blinding sunlight filtering through the trees above me. Trees? Where the hell am I?
I sit up—or at least, I try to. Something's off. My body feels… wrong.
I groggily glance around. Dense trees, thick underbrush, and a weird, unnatural stillness. I’m in a forest, alright. ‘The off-brand Gandalf really went through with it,’ I think, the memory of the bus crash and that annoying old man snapping back into focus.
As I struggle to get to my feet, something clicks—no, not something, everything clicks. My entire body feels completely wrong. I pause, look down, and—
“What the—"
Where my hands used to be are... hooves. Hooves . Solid, hard, black hooves. I blink, my brain refusing to process the fact that I’m staring at horse legs. Or… pony legs? I suppose it doesn’t matter, I hate either option.
I mean, I like Horses, but I don’t want to be a horse.
I try to stand up properly, but the balance is all off. After about half a second of wobbling, I fall flat on my face with a solid thud . The ground feels nice at this point. Maybe I’ll just lay here and pretend none of this is happening.
Nope. I can already feel the God up there smirking, probably polishing his halo and basking in the glory of his masterpiece isekai. “Oh, you think you’re funny, don’t you?” I mutter into the dirt. "Really creative. I bet you’re proud.”
I force myself back up, wobbling awkwardly. I glance back to check the rest of me, and sure enough, a freaking tail swishes behind me. "I am afraid to ask how the wiping situation would work."
I take a good look at my new body—a burly brown pony with a scruffy, lighter mane, I’m short, too short to be the badass option of the two. It’s official. I’m a pony, the girliest animal there is. I guess I pissed Gandalf the Bastard to the point—he wanted to insult me with his so-called art.
I stomp a hoof into the ground, which feels oddly satisfying for some reason, trying to stand up. "Is either that, or this is one of those dumb isekais where the ONLY twist to the formula is that instead of a humanoid creature, I’m something like a spider. Or a... talking sword. If that’s the case, I suppose he must’ve thought ponies were the next big thing."
I glance around at the forest, which looks annoyingly normal. No giant mushrooms, no floating islands in the sky—just your standard, creepy-looking woods. Sure, there’s an unsettling vibe around, but to be fair, I’m far too busy having a personal crisis to care about that right now.
“So, what am I supposed to do?” I ask aloud, half-expecting an answer from the trees. “Wait for some magical talking creature to show up and hand me a quest? Maybe a fairy or some woodland creatures that will burst into song?”
No response. Just silence and the occasional rustle of leaves.
Now that I think about it, other than being a tiny horse, I didn’t feel anything else. I didn’t feel overwhelming power, or the likes.
“Huh, well color me impressed, maybe off-brand Galdalf didn’t go for the cliche route,” I mutter to myself, forcing one hoof in front of the other. “I mean, if he had, I would’ve probably have a window hovering over my—"
Ping!
A glowing, floating rectangle materializes right in front of my face, full of stats and icons. I squint at the obnoxiously bright, glowing screen. “This is what I get for having faith…”
Name: Jax Race: Earth PonySpecial Abilities: - Enhanced Strength - Natural Affinity with Nature - ??? - No Sense of Humor - Terrible Taste in Art Related Matters. (This ability can be erased if the user says: I was wrong, Isekais are the best form of art there is, there was and there will be. Thank you for this wonderful chance, oh powerful God!)
I stare at the screen, my eyes twitching. "Over my tiny rotting corpse, you petty bastard!"
The stat window blinks out of existence after a few moments, but I’m left standing there, staring at where it used to be. "Well, I guess that means I have a system," I grumble. "Now, I wonder if I can avoid using it altogether, just to spite him?"
Forcing myself to calm down, I shake my head. Alright. Fine. This is stupid, but there’s nothing I can do about it. What’s the worst that could happen, right? I mean, I’m already a tiny horse, I can only go up from here.
I take one step forward—and immediately trip over my own hooves again, landing face-first into a pile of leaves. Fantastic.
Getting back on my feet—or hooves—is way harder than it should be. But after a few tries, I manage to at least walk in a straight line without falling on my face again. Progress.
Now, what the hell am I supposed to do? I look around at the dense forest, waiting for something—anything—to give me a hint as to what comes next. A path, maybe? Nope. Just trees. I could wander in any direction and it’d all look the same.
“Well, maybe if I’m lucky a tiny wolf will eat me,” I mutter, ears flattening against my head.
Taking a moment to consider my options, I eventually pick a random direction and start walking, or... trotting, I guess. Trotting through a creepy forest.
I keep trotting for a few minutes—or trying to, anyway—through the thick forest. My legs still feel like they belong to someone else, and every few steps, I either trip over my own hooves or get caught in a tangle of underbrush. It’s like walking for the first time all over again, except I’m supposed to be a grown-ass adult... who’s a pony. ‘I need a drink.’
“I know I pissed you off, but seriously,” I mutter, pushing a branch out of my face, “You couldn’t have reincarnated me as something with opposable thumbs?”
My legs give out again, and I stumble, barely catching myself before face-planting into the dirt. “I have the feeling this is gonna be my life for the next few days.”
Just as I start getting back up, a loud snap echoes from the forest behind me. My ears swivel instinctively, which is weird and new, but the more important thing is that I’m not alone anymore.
“Is this where the monsters show up? Not sure I can show how overpowered I probably am, when I can’t even walk, you suck at writing this script old man,” I grumble, turning to see what fresh hell off-brand Gandalf has cooked up for me.
Out of the shadows, something moves. Something big. Glowing green eyes flicker between the trees, and the sound of heavy footsteps grows louder. Until eventually, a shape emerges—a massive wolf, its body made entirely of wood. Branches, leaves, and twisted vines make up its frame, creaking and groaning with every step.
I stare at it for a second, blinking. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect this.”
It’s like some kind of creature from a kid’s horror movie, but with a DIY vibe. Looks strong though, if this is the first boss, I’m already checking out. I can barely stand, let alone fight off whatever the hell that is.
On that note, why would a wooden wolf want to attack me? To eat me? Well, that’s funny, there’s a vegan joke in there, but I’m above such low hanging fruits. Sometimes.
The wolf growls low, crouching as if it’s about to pounce. I raise an eyebrow. “If only I had a box of matches.” Oh, right, I don’t have opposable thumbs now, or fingers for that matter, I guess I was fucked either way.
As I muse over my situation, the creature leaps.
I don’t have time to move, not that I could even if I wanted to. My legs are still in the toddler zone. The wolf lunges toward me, jaws wide open, and as I watch my life flash before my eyes, which worryingly was only memories of my time with upbeat music, pure instinct kicks in. And without thinking, I throw one of my front hooves forward.
CRACK!
The impact is... way stronger than I expected. Like, comically so. My hoof connects with the wolf’s face, and it explodes into a million pieces of kindling, shattered branches, and leaves flying in every direction. The thing doesn’t even get the chance to yelp—it just ceases to exist in a puff of wood chips.
I blink, staring at the pile of debris that used to be a terrifying wolf. "Did... did I just...?”
I glance at my hoof, half-expecting it to be glowing or something. It looks normal. Dirt-covered, with some mud, but normal.
“What the hell was that?”
I look back at the spot where the wolf was standing. There’s nothing left but a bunch of broken sticks. No blood, no guts, just... wood.
Slowly, it dawns on me. I didn’t just hit the thing—I obliterated it. What in the One Hoof Pony was that?
A laugh bubbles up in my throat, and before I know it, I’m laughing. Hard. Like, nearly falling over from how ridiculous this is. “So I’m a tiny horse... who’s also a walking nuclear warhead. I guess that checks out.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm down, but I can’t shake the absurdity of what just happened. I wasn’t even trying, and I turned a supposedly dangerous monster into a pile of mulch. This is exactly the kind of overpowered nonsense I was trying to avoid.
“Great job, man,” I shouted to the sky. “You really went all out with the ‘overpowered’ thing, huh? What’s next, am I gonna sneeze and blow up half the forest?”
I give the pile of wood a kick, sending twigs and branches scattering. "Well, at least I don’t have to worry about dying anytime soon. Not sure how to feel about that, yet."
Ok, I suppose I should focus on finding a town or something. If this world is like all other Isekais, which I’m sure it is, it means there is magic, and magic means, there is a way to become human again, or at the very least, something close to that.
Author's Note
An old friend from here wrote me, and I was like. You know what, now I have some free time and my English has improved, so why not?
Let me know what you guys think.
Wolves, Rocks, Rolls and a Scooter?
Five... long hours, and I still keep stumbling through this damn forest, cursing every single step of the way. No matter how much I try not to, and boy, did I try... I unavoidably trip over my own hooves, a very small rock, or crash into a tree, sometimes all three combined. Horses make this look easy . Jokes aside, how does this make any sense? I mean, I can punch wooden wolves back to the hellish realm from where they came from, but walking in a straight line? Apparently, that's where this God draws the line when it comes to powers.
"Stupid hooves," I mutter, gritting my teeth as I pull myself back up for what feels like the hundredth time. If I keep at it, I’m going to need a horse dentist.
Taking a deep breath, I push myself off the ground, only to hear the now familiar growl of the wooden creature that apparently has the survival instincts of a dodo. Then again, maybe it's a wooden bear now—variety would certainly be a nice change of pace. I glance to my left. And nope, it’s just another one of those walking campfires.
The wolf lunges at me, and I barely have to think before swinging a hoof. CRACK! The thing explodes into twigs, leaves, and splinters, scattering all over the ground.
"That's the tenth one today," I mutter, shaking some bark off my hoof.
I keep walking—or trotting, or stumbling, whatever you call it. I imagine that if someone saw me, they'd probably think I was drunk or something.
Another rustling from the bushes.
"I have no words."
Sure enough, another wooden wolf leaps out. And once again, all it takes is a single punch, and boom—let there be firewood.
"CTRL C and CTRL V with this guy, it seems," I shout into the air.
As I continue stumbling, I wonder why these things keep attacking me. Lack of survival instincts aside, it almost seems like they're attracted to me or something. Maybe they think I'm an easy target because I can barely walk?
Snap. "Oh my, I wonder what’s making that sound..." Another wolf. Of course. I don’t even look this time. I just spin around and lash out with a hind hoof, falling face-first to the ground. The crack of wood breaking echoes through the trees as another one bites the dust.
"Twelve down," I say, not bothering to watch as the twigs fall. "I really hope these things aren't a protected species in this world. Though one could argue that, by this point, this is natural selection."
Snap.
"Are you guys waiting one after the other behind the bushes? Is there a line to attack me or something?" I groan, throwing my hoof up and obliterating the next wolf in one hit. The fragments rain down like confetti, and I brush a few leaves off my head.
As if to answer my question about the line, the situation continues for a while, with one wolf after another coming at me, and every time, I swat them down like flies. Sixteen... seventeen... eighteen.
By the time I hit number twenty, I’m so done with this that I’m practically on autopilot. One swing, and another goes flying. Rinse and repeat. As I kick away a stray branch, punching the last one—for now—a loud DING! echoes in my ears, and a glowing notification pops up in front of my face.
Congratulations! Valiant adventurer! Due to your heroic deeds, you have unlocked the Gachapon system! So get ready to pull for exciting rewards like abilities, weapons, and more!
I stare at the screen, one of my eyes twitching. ‘Of course there’s a loot box system...’ On that note, heroic deeds my furry ass. This feels like one of those participation trophies kids get for breathing. Which is exactly how all the cheats of Isekai protagonists feel at the end of the day.
Rolling my eyes, I try to facepalm out of pure instinct, but, surprise surprise, hooves aren’t built for that. So instead of slapping my face, I lose my balance, wobble, and—as usual—fall straight into the dirt again.
"Damn it," I grumble, spitting out a mouthful of leaves and dirt. "I’m two falls away from being in a committed relationship with the soil of this forest."
After pushing myself up again, laughing at my joke, I glare at the glowing screen. Not only do I find the idea of someone rolling for their abilities downright stupid, but I’ve never liked the concept of loot boxes and the like.
As I continue to stare, the screen just hangs there, taunting me with its bright colors and cheerful icons, and that big, flashy button that says PULL NOW!
"I said I wasn’t going to use your stupid system, and that extends to this. I’m not pulling anything," I say, waving a hoof at it like it’s some kind of fly. I mean, maybe if I wave hard enough, it’ll go away. "I don’t need more powers—I’m already too strong for this crap, and I can’t even walk right."
Alas, no matter how hard I swat, the notification just floats there, unblinking.
"Oh well, it was worth a try," I grumble, swatting at it again, just in case it needs an extra swat. But, like the twenty swats before, the screen doesn’t budge. Which means this stupid thing is going to hang around until I give in. "Fine, whatever. Just go away already."
Having no other option, I reluctantly tap the PULL NOW! button with a hoof, and the screen flashes before a giant wheel appears, spinning with all kinds of random icons. There are weapons, weird-looking symbols, and other things I couldn’t care less about.
It finally slows down and lands on an image of... a rock. Just a regular, plain old rock.
Congratulations! You have won the skill...Rock-Throwing!
Rock-Throwing - Tier F Skill!
Description: It allows the user to throw rocks very well.
I stare at the notification for a second, blinking. "Hmm, you know, even though I hate everything that has happened so far, I have to admit, I am intrigued as to how that would work... I mean, I have hooves, how can I... throw a stone? Do… I put it in my mouth and then spit it out? Do I kick it?"
I look around, half expecting a wooden wolf to jump out just to give me a reason to try it. "Where’s one of those suicidal wooden creatures when you need one?"
No sooner do I finish that sentence than another wooden wolf bursts from the bushes, growling and charging straight at me.
"Good, thanks for the prompt response, now give me a second, I need a rock."
Humming, I look around, spotting a small-sized rock by my hoof. Ammunition found. Now... How do I pick it up? With no real idea how to throw... Well, anything without fingers, I tentatively tap the stone with my hoof, trying to figure out what to do, and much to my surprise, it... sticks to my hoof. Maybe it’s part of the skill—the ability to grab rocks to throw them. "Okay, now I just throw it, I guess?" I take aim at the oncoming wolf and toss the rock without much effort.
The little thing sails through the air faster than I thought possible, like a bullet out of a rifle, smashing into the wooden wolf’s head with a loud CRACK! exploding the suicidal creature it into splinters, even more violently than when I punched them. Leaving nothing but a pile of debris and a crater where the rock hit.
I stand there, mouth slightly open, staring at the destruction. “And that was tier F? God is like a monkey writing this, and not a particularly bright one at that.”
After what feels like hours of stumbling through this cursed forest, half of which I covered with my face, I finally see the exit ahead. ‘Finally, I’m out of here!’ Wasting no time, I break into a trot, feeling a weird mix of relief and victory—until, of course, my hooves trip over each other, and I go flying forward, rolling across the ground like a ball, face-planting into the dirt just as I reach the edge of the trees.
Oh hindsight, I should’ve seen it coming.
I stay there for a moment, face down in the dirt, grumbling to myself. "Hurray..." However, just as I’m about to drag myself up again, I hear something.
Giggle.
My ear twitches at the sound. Slowly, I lift my head and spot the source: a little orange filly with tiny wings and purple hair standing a few feet away. She’s snickering, clearly trying to hold back more laughter as she watches me.
“Uh... you okay there, mister?” she asks, her voice barely holding a snicker.
I push myself up onto my hooves. “Yeah, I’m just peachy,” I mutter, brushing the dirt off my face. “Don’t worry about me, I just briefly succumbed to gravity, it happens every now and then, that's all.”
She snickers again, and to be honest, I can't blame her, I would've laugh to, if it weren't me the one falling. "I mean, it was pretty funny. You, uh... tripped there at the finish line, huh?"
I can’t help but roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, kid." I straighten up, trying to regain what little dignity I have left. "Who are you, anyway?"
The filly grins wide, puffing out her chest. "I’m Scootaloo!" she announces proudly, and the tone she uses makes it sound like I’m supposed to know who she is. On that note, who in their right mind names their kid Scootaloo? Her name sounds like an electric scooter brand.
I blink at her. “Right. And I’m Jax.”
She tilts her head, still grinning. “Jax? That’s a weird name. You new around here?”
“You could say that,” I mutter, glancing back at the forest before glaring at the sky, hoping someone kicks the God that sent me here in his holy nuts.
Scootaloo trots up to me, her curiosity clearly piqued. “So, what were you doing in the Everfree Forest? You, like, fighting monsters or something?”
“The what forest?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. Wait, do horses have eyebrows?
“The Everfree!” she repeats. “You know, full of all kinds of creepy stuff. Most ponies don’t go in there.”
Most ponies, huh? I really hope that doesn’t mean this world is just a big cup of horses but in different shapes. “I guess you could say I was ‘fighting monsters,’ if that’s what you call those things,” I mutter.
Scootaloo’s eyes widen with excitement. “Whoa! Really?! You fought the monsters in the Everfree?” She looks me up and down like I’m some kind of hero. “That’s awesome! Did you beat them all by yourself?”
I shrug, trying not to sound too annoyed. “Yes, it was very hard… had a lot of character development back there, the lessons I learned will forever be with me.”
She giggles again, trotting around me. "That’s soooo awesome, you totally look like you’ve been through something! Like a rugged warrior! A one stallion army!" Then, without warning, she gasps dramatically, eyes locked on my side. “Oh. My. Gosh!”
I flinch, surprised by her sudden outburst. That almost gave me a tiny heart attack. “What? What’s your problem? Jesus, kid…”
She darts around me, pointing a hoof at my butt. “That is the most badass cutie mark I’ve ever seen! And that says a lot, because I have seen Rainbow’s Cutie Mark!”
I stare at her, confused. “The most what ?”
Scootaloo just gapes at me, wide-eyed. “Your cutie mark! It’s, like, super epic!”
Feeling like I’ve just stepped into another layer of weird. I turn my head and glance down at my flank, where, sure enough, there’s some kind of glowing mark on my butt. 'How did I not notice that before? Is my attention to detail that low?'
The extra tiny horse keeps staring at my butt, showing an expression of pure awe. “That’s... that’s so cool” she practically squeals. “This is the first time I have ever seen a glowing cutie mark! I want one just like that!”
I’m starting to feel I should be a responsible adult and tell tiny over here that she shouldn’t be staring at my radioactive tramp stamp.
I sigh, rubbing a hoof over my face, carefully this time, so I don’t trip. “Thanks.”
Scootaloo just keeps staring at my cutie mark in awe. “Man, I hope I get something that awesome when I grow up! So, what’s our plan now?”
Our plan? Does the concept of stranger danger doesn't exist in this world? Oh, right, I almost forgot I was in a isekai for a moment. Of course the first person I meet just happens to trust me blindly, with nothing but thirty seconds of interaction.
Becoming a human again, and going against the will of the fucker who sent me here. “Not sure yet…”
She grins, clearly not put off by my attitude. “Well, you could... Come into town! Oh. My. God. You could meet Rainbow! And we could eat something, while you share your AWESOME stories of battle and glory.”
Food… the other one thing I can’t reject. “Well, if you insist.”
“Yeah!” Scootaloo bounces on her hooves. “Come on! I’ll show you the way. Rainbow’s napping spot it’s not too far from here!”
Author's Note
Another chapter, another isekai cliche met. What will our protagonist face next chapter?
Please vote for your favorite cliche in this link CLICHE POLL
I follow the tiny orange pony through what has to be the most colorful, bizarre town I’ve ever seen. I’ve been out of the forest for maybe ten minutes or so, and already it’s like I’ve walked straight into a fever dream. Everything is too bright, too... colorful, painfully so. The buildings look like they’ve been pulled straight out of a Saturday morning cartoon, and not the good kind either—the kind that makes you wonder if the creators were hopped up on sugar and glitter.
Scootaloo aka, tiny orange, is bouncing around, pointing at different spots excitedly like she’s my personal tour guide. “And that’s Sugarcube Corner! It’s where they make the best cupcakes and cakes in Ponyville!” she says, gesturing to what looks like a house-sized gingerbread cookie.
“Sugarcube... Corner,” I repeat, deadpan. I’m starting to sense a theme with the names around here. “Of course it is.”
She doesn’t notice my lack of enthusiasm. In fact, nothing seems to dampen her energy. “Yeah! And over there, that’s the market where ponies sell all kinds of cool stuff!” Scootaloo waves her hoof toward a bunch of stalls lined up in the middle of town, with brightly colored ponies browsing and chatting like this is the most normal thing in the world.
I narrow my eyes, watching a bright pink pony with... is that a cotton candy mane? Seriously, what is going on here? Everything looks like it was designed by a six-year-old girl high on drugs who only had crayons in pastel shades. I’m starting to feel like I’ve been thrown into one of those cutesy shows where nothing bad ever happens and everyone is overly cheerful.
As the tour continues, Scootaloo bounces ahead of me, rambling on about different landmarks. But honestly, I don’t think the tour is helping me, everywhere I look, it’s the same thing. Happy little ponies with bright smiles, pastel-colored houses, rinse and repeat, in fact, I think I saw the same pink pony six times already.
By this point, I half-expect a rainbow to shoot out of the sky and explode into glitter at any moment.
As Scootaloo keeps talking, I glance up at the sky. Sure enough, there’s a rainbow. Well, not actually a rainbow, but an actual pony flying across the sky, who just happens to have all the colors of the rainbow in their mane. “I will take a wild guess, and say that’s the Rainbow Dash you were talking about.”
Scootaloo notices where I’m looking and grins. “Yes! She’s the coolest pony in all of Equestria! Fastest flyer, too!” At this, she pauses for a moment. “How did you know it was her? Have you two met each other? WAIT? DO ALL COOL PEOPLE KNOW EACH OTHER?!”
Is… she really asking how I know the flying rainbow colored pony is Rainbow?
“No, I don’t know her… it was just a guess.”
Scootaloo beams up at the sky, completely starstruck. “Oh, well, that’s a pretty good guess. But yeah, she’s soooo cool, she’s my hero! I wanna fly just like her when I grow up!”
I don’t bother responding to that. Going back to trying to wrap my head around what kind of acid trip this place is. It’s like someone mashed together every kid’s show from the 90s and cranked the saturation up to maximum.
“Hey, do you like apples?” Scootaloo asks suddenly, turning back to me.
“Apples?” I repeat, caught off guard by the random question.
“Yeah! We can go to Sweet Apple Acres next! It’s the best farm in Ponyville, and they have the best apples ever!”
“Sure, why not.” I mean, it’s not like I have anything better to do than follow this hyperactive kid around. And apples don’t sound bad right now. I haven’t eaten anything since I got here, and while my go to option is usually a burger, an apple would do just fine.
Wait…
I don't have any money.
How will I eat, without money? Unless this acid trip of a town is also an utopia where money is no longer a thing?
I won’t get my hopes up for that…
I wonder if allowances are a thing here, and if they are, I wonder if tiny orange has an allowance, and if she does… I wonder if it's enough for a burger with some fries.
Wait, am I really considering exploiting a kid for food?
Wait… something suddenly feels wrong… and is not the fact I am really considering the food thing. It wasn’t the bright colors or the overly cheerful ponies. No, it was something… else, something… dangerous.
Then, as if waiting for the perfect time, I heard it.
Music.
“Is… that music?” I mutter, looking around, finding no band, instruments, music player or anything even remotely similar to that.
“This is going to be awesome!” Scootaloo grins, and before I can figure out what she meant by that, a pink blur zooms into my line of sight, grinning wide enough to make my teeth hurt.
“Welcome-welcome-WELCOOOOOME!” she bursts out, on a full blown music number, in a tone that’s definitely too loud for this hour of the day. “To Ponyville, my friend! You’re new, you’re fresh, and just in time—For all the FUN we send!”
Oh dear lord, I’m in a musical world.
I glance around—ponies are watching, smiling like this is completely normal. Even tiny orange is clapping. As the pink thing bounced, literally bounces, around me in these huge, ridiculous hops, like some sort of hyperactive spring toy.
“Fuck…” I sigh.
Her voice escalates as she hops higher, somehow singing and flailing her hooves at the same time. “We’ve got cake! And pie! And balloons that FLYYYY! Streamers all around—And hey, LOOK, is that a confetti cloud!?”
Right on cue, there’s a poof, and suddenly I’m covered in confetti. I blink through the multicolored mess, trying not to gag on a piece of paper.
Okay. This is happening. This is real. And I want to die.
I rub my temples, already feeling the headache forming. “Yeah, uh, I’m good, thanks. Where’s the exit?”
She’s not listening. She’s spinning around me, eyes wide with excitement as she belts out, “No time to leave, it’s time to CHEER! You’ll love it here, no need to fear! We’ve got music, friends, and cakes and TREATS! Now dance, and MOVE, and shake your FLANKS!”
Her movements are… chaotic, like she’s barely in control of her own body, it’s like she’s this world’s version of the Joker, but without the killing for rating reasons. One minute she’s spinning, the next she’s flailing her legs out like she’s trying to take flight. It’s like she’s everywhere at once, and somehow, nowhere.
My brain can’t keep up.
I try walking away—just to escape whatever madness this is—but she materializes in front of me again, beaming that same, too big smile.
“Spin around and clap your HOOVES! There’s no way you can lose! Fun and chaos, that’s Pinkie’s style! Come on, Jax, stay awhile!”
Jax... She knows my name. I freeze in my tracks. How does she know my name?
“Wait, how do you—?”
She ignores me completely, zipping around like gravity means nothing to her. “Names are easy! You’re new, you see! And I know EVERYPONY!”
Now she’s jumping from spot to spot—one second she’s on the ground, the next she’s balancing on a fencepost. Is she defying physics? I look around for hidden wires, anything to explain this insanity. Nothing.
My head is starting to hurt.
“So smile, my friend, don’t be so BLUE! I’ve got a party planned for you! CUPCAKES, CANDY, GUMDROPS TOO, AND A PIÑATA YOU CAN HIT RIGHT THROUGH!”
Somehow, she pulls a piñata out of nowhere, shaking it at me like I’m supposed to be excited about it. The music blares louder, more instruments joining in the madness. Is that a trumpet? A tuba? How is this still happening?
I rub my temples harder. “Seriously, where is this music even coming from?”
The pink demon doesn’t even pause, singing louder as she leaps onto a table and starts dancing on top of it. “The music’s from the air, my friend! It’s all around, it never ends! Can’t you feel it in your hooves? Come on, Jax, bust some mooooves!”
Bust some moves. Right. I can barely walk, let alone dance.
She grabs a kazoo from… somewhere, by now I have stopped questioning this, and starts playing it, badly, as ponies are gathering around, watching like this is some kind of show.
Why is no one stopping her?
Oh, no… is this a normal occurrence around here?!
“I need a drink,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.
But the pink demon is not done. “No time for that, there’s cake to eat! Cupcakes, sprinkles, and things so sweet! Don’t be grumpy, don’t be sour! It’s PINKIE TIME, the PARTY HOUR!”
Now the music changes, somehow getting worse. More drums, a crashing cymbal—where are the cymbals even coming from? She’s leaping from one table to another, spinning in circles.
Before I can react, she grabs my hoof, spinning me into the chaos. I stumble back, my world a swirl of pink, confetti, sugar and loud music.
I manage to catch my breath. “Okay. Fine. One cupcake. Then I’m leaving.”
The music stops. Just like that. Dead silence. I blink at her, who’s now standing calmly, her face a picture of innocence, like none of that madness just happened.
I glance around. No more confetti. No more music. What…?
I stare at her, utterly baffled. “Where did the music go?”
She giggles, tapping her nose playfully. “Oh, it’s always there! You just have to listen with your tail!” she pauses, humming. “Or is it with your belly?”
I blink. “Right. Sure. That makes sense.”
“Anyway, be at the park at 5 for your party, or I will find you! ” And with that, she was gone.
“That’s Pinkie for ya,” Scootaloo chuckles.
After the whole musical number debacle, I’m more than ready to leave this world—and the rest of this pastel fever dream—behind me. I’m still not sure how she knew my name or how she made music appear out of thin air, but I’m not sticking around to find out.
Scootaloo, for her part, is still bouncing along beside me, talking a mile a minute about how “awesome” that was.
“Wasn’t Pinkie amazing? She throws the best parties!” Scootaloo chirps, clearly oblivious to my slowly decaying mental state.
“Yeah, she’s... something,” I mutter, trying not to think too hard about the fact that I just survived an impromptu musical ambush.
“Sweet Apple Acres is just up ahead!” she says, trotting ahead of me as we head toward the next stop on this never-ending tour of insanity.
I sigh, following her through the winding path out of town, wondering what else this place has in store for me. Surely, nothing can top a pink pony who breaks the laws of physics and sings about cupcakes.
Just as I think that, I hear a voice behind me—a smooth, sophisticated voice that sounds like it came straight out of a Victorian drama.
“Ah, yes... the time has come at last.”
I stop in my tracks, slowly turning around. Standing in the middle of the road is... a cat. A fluffy, sleek, dark gray cat with bright green eyes. But this isn’t just any cat—this one is wearing a little vest, a bowtie, and looks like he should be sipping tea at some fancy party.
Scootaloo stops too, blinking in surprise. “Uh... where’d the cat come from?”
I don’t have an answer, but before I can process the absurdity of what’s happening, the cat clears his throat and speaks again, in the most posh, sophisticated accent I’ve ever heard.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” the cat says, raising a paw like he’s about to give some grand speech. “I am Lord Whiskerington Fluffytail the Third, Grand Duke of Purrington, and future ruler of all I survey.” He pauses, looking me up and down with a critical eye. “And you, my good sir, shall be my chosen pony.”
I blink. Once. Twice. “Excuse me?”
Lord Whisker-whatever raises his nose in the air, clearly unimpressed by my confusion. “It is quite simple. I have been traveling this world in search of a suitable servant... ahem, I mean, companion. And after careful consideration, I have decided that you shall be the one to serve me.”
Scootaloo snorts. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
The cat’s eyes narrow. “I assure you, young peasant, I do not ‘kid.’ This is a matter of the utmost importance. My pony must be strong, capable, and above all, obedient. And I have deemed this one—” he gestures to me with a flick of his tail— “as the best option available.”
I stand there, completely dumbfounded. “So, let me get this straight,” I say slowly, trying to process the ridiculousness of the situation. I mean, this place keeps getting worse and worse, it’s like I’m jumping from one fever dream to the other. “You’re a talking cat—”
“Lord Whiskerington Fluffytail the Third,” the cat corrects, looking offended.
“Right,” I say, rolling my eyes. “And you’ve decided I’m your... what? Your pet?”
“Servant,” he corrects again, his tone regal. “You will attend to my every need. In return, I shall allow you the privilege of basking in my presence.”
I blink at him. “Wow, uh... I’m honored?”
To be honest, this is how I always imagined cats actually were.
The cat’s tail swishes, clearly not detecting the sarcasm dripping from my words. “Of course, you are. Now, let us be off. I require a comfortable pillow and perhaps some freshly caught fish for my afternoon nap.”
Scootaloo is barely holding back laughter at this point. “This is hilarious.”
The cat sits back on his haunches, looking pleased with himself. “Excellent. Now, where is my carriage? I do hope you have a suitable mode of transportation for one of my stature.”
“Carriage?” I repeat, incredulous.
He raises an eyebrow. “Hmph, no carriage. Well, we shall work on that. For now, I suppose I shall allow you to walk beside me. But do try not to embarrass yourself, dear boy.”
Is it bad that I want to pet this obnoxious cat?
“Now then,” the cat says, not even looking back at me, “I have a very specific set of rules that you must follow if you wish to remain in my service. First and foremost, you are to address me as ‘My Lord.’ Or by my full name, none of this ‘buddy’ nonsense. Understood?”
I snort, but the cat continues unabated.
“Secondly,” he continues, “I expect to be groomed at least twice a day, preferably with a brush made from the finest silk and gems. My fur must remain in pristine condition at all times.”
Scootaloo snorts with me this time, but the cat ignores her.
“And thirdly,” the cat goes on, his voice getting more smug by the second, “I require at least three meals a day, with a variety of flavors and textures. I do hope you have access to fine dining.”
“Ha, no,” I snort. I didn't have access to a single penny, let alone fine dining.
The cat stops in his tracks, turning to look at me with a horrified expression. “You... are poor?!” he gasps, his eyes widening in disbelief. “What kind of servant are you?”
“The not serving kind,” I reply.
The fancy cat huffs, clearly unimpressed. “Well, we shall work on that as well. I suppose I will have to teach you the finer points of servitude. Such is my burden as your master, I suppose.”
I continue to follow Scootaloo, mostly because she mentioned something about apples and a farm full of them, and at this point, food is about the only thing motivating me to keep going. I’m half-starved, and while I’d prefer a burger, I didn’t have burger money, so I had a better chance of getting a single apple for free, than a burger.
As we walk, my new cat “companion,” Lord Whisker-whatever, struts along beside us like he owns the place. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t mildly amused at first—after all, who doesn’t love a fluffy talking cat?
Turns out the answer to that question is… me, after ten minutes of this damn furball and his non-stop self-important monologues about how fancy he is.
I used to love cats.
I loved them so… so very much that I was willing to overlook the obvious Isekai cliche of the talking magical companion that he was filling.
He ruined cats for me.
“Ah, yes, my dear servant,” the cat purrs, looking at me like I should be groveling at his paws. “It’s quite fortunate for you that I’ve selected you as my pony. Others could only dream of such an honor. Now, if you could just fetch me a pillow, or perhaps carry me on your back—I do so loathe getting my paws dirty.”
I grit my teeth and keep walking. I’ve been here for less than a day. And this acid dream-like world went from a crayon-colored hell, to me being bossed around by a cat with a name longer than a shopping receipt.
“And another thing, that I have to make sure you understand,” Lord Whisker-corporate-tax-return continues, “I do require a diet of only the finest cuisine. Fresh fish, naturally. None of this common fare—what do you ponies eat again? Grass? Hay? Truly barbaric. But such is the fate of peasants I suppose.”
Scootaloo, walking a few paces ahead, snickers as the cat continues his regal rant. I shoot her an annoyed look, but she’s too busy finding this whole thing hilarious.
I try to ignore him, I really do… but Lord Whiskers just keeps going on and on and on, repeating the same thing. “Again, peasant. It is also essential that my fur remains in peak condition, so I expect daily grooming, two to three times a day. And none of that inferior horse hair brush nonsense—silk brushes with the finest gems only. My delicate fur must be treated with the utmost care, each strand of hair is worth more than all the gold you have seen in your entire life, after all.”
This cat is too much. It’s like having the world’s most obnoxious aristocrat on your back, constantly reminding you how lucky you are to be in his presence, while you fantasize about choking them.
“Let’s not forget, my dear pony, that you are to address me as ‘My Lord’ at all times,” he adds, swishing his tail like he’s the king of everything. “It’s only proper, for I am your superior in every conceivable way.”
I’m starting to wonder if I could find a way to smother myself with apples at the farm. Or maybe the cat. Or both.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “Sure thing, Your Fluffiness.”
He sniffs. “Fluffiness? Please. You’ve not yet earned the right to use such familiar terms with me.”
Scootaloo glances back at me, stifling another giggle. “I think Lord Whiskerington likes you, Jax.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” I grumble, glaring at the cat. “I love him as well.”
The cat, completely oblivious to my growing frustration, continues prattling on about his “refined tastes” and how I, as his new servant, should feel honored. The more he talks, the more I start to seriously consider throwing him into a tree and pretending it was an accident.
Though I have a few… conflicted feelings about making a bloody mess in front of a kid.
As I continue to grit my teeth, Lord Annoying, strolls ahead a bit, his nose held high. “You see, I’ve always been quite the connoisseur of fine arts. Paintings, sculptures, the like. My previous... ‘pet’ —well, let’s just say he was not nearly as cultured as I am. He had no appreciation for my level of sophistication.”
“I’m sure you’re a real joy to be around,” I mutter under my breath. “Bet you’re the life of the party.”
As we near the edge of some farm, which I assume is the apple place Scootaloo was talking about, the cat finally pushes me over the edge.
“And naturally,” he says, his voice dripping with arrogance, “you will be expected to cater to my every whim. Day or night. I’m quite demanding, you see, but I’m sure you’ll rise to the occasion. After all, it’s not every day a mere pony gets to serve a being as regal as myself.”
That’s it. I’ve had enough. I stop in my tracks, take a deep breath, and turn to the cat. He looks up at me, clearly expecting more groveling.
“Listen here you little shit,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “I’ve got a better idea.”
His eyes narrow suspiciously. “Oh? And what, pray tell, is that?”
Without missing a beat, I reach down with my hoof and grab him by the scruff of his ridiculously fluffy neck. He lets out an indignant yowl, his paws flailing in the air.
“Ah! What are you doing?! You’ve not earned the right to pet—”
“I know, I know,” I say, cutting him off. “I haven’t earned the right to pet you yet. That’s not what this is.”
He blinks, confused. “It’s not?”
“Nope. It’s something way better.”
With a flick of my hoof, I toss him into the air. Not just a light toss either—I use that Rock-Throwing skill I got from the stupid gachapon system. The moment he leaves my hoof, the cat flies into the sky like a rocket, soaring higher and higher until he’s nothing more than a tiny speck against the horizon.
Scootaloo watches, her mouth hanging open in shock, as Lord Whiskers disappears into the distance, his voice fading into the wind. “How dareee youuu filthy peasaaaant!”
There’s a beat of silence as we both stare at the empty sky where the cat used to be.
Ahh, that felt good.
Scootaloo turns to me, her eyes wide. “Did you just...”
“Yep.”
“Into the sky.”
“Yep.”
She stares at me for another second before bursting into laughter. “That was awesome!”
I sigh, rubbing a hoof over my face. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.”
I follow Scootaloo as we enter the apple farm—Sweet Apple Acres , as she called it. Rows and rows of apple trees stretch out in every direction, and the smell of fresh apples hits me immediately. It's actually kind of nice.
I like farms, they had a certain rugged charm that made me feel at ease. Nature always had a way to amaze me.
As we walk further in, we’re greeted by a big red pony with a workhorse build. He’s got a yoke around his neck, like he's about to plow a field or something. He looks at us, calm and steady, chewing on a piece of straw like it’s his only mission in life.
“Hey, Big Mac!” Scootaloo calls out, waving at him.
The massive pony nods, giving a slow, measured “Eeyup.”
I don’t know why, but I have a feeling this guy communicates like a pokemon.
Scootaloo nudges me with her hoof. “Big Mac, this is Jax! He’s new in Ponyville, and I figured the first thing he should do is try an apple from the best farm there is!”
Big Mac looks me over, nods again, and responds with his deep, gravelly voice. “Eeyup.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s... efficient communication,” I mutter, crossing my hooves. “You sure know how to keep the conversation going.”
Scootaloo giggles while Big Mac just stares at me with his calm, unbothered expression, like he’s completely comfortable with saying nothing.
I’m still half-starved, so I jump at the chance. “So, uh, any chance I could sample one of those apples? You know, just to get a taste.” I have no money, and judging by how cartoonishly cheerful this place is, maybe getting free samples is something within the realm of possibilities.
Big Mac stares at me for a second, then smiles. He turns to a barrel nearby and picks up an apple with his hoof like it weighs nothing. With one smooth motion, he tosses it toward me. I somehow manage to catch it, though I’m still getting used to using hooves instead of hands.
I glance down at the apple in my hoof. It looks like a regular apple, but knowing this place, I wouldn’t be surprised if it exploded into glitter or started singing a song about friendship.
“Thanks,” I mutter, bringing the apple to my mouth. I take a bite... and immediately freeze. My eyes widen as the flavor hits me like a freight train.
“What the...?” I mutter, my mouth full of apple. This isn’t just good—it’s ridiculously good. Like, if you took every apple I’ve ever eaten in my entire life, and put them all together, they wouldn’t come close to this. It’s sweet, crisp, and somehow... perfect? Is that even possible? Am I really eating an apple right now?
I take another bite, and for a moment, everything else fades away, there’s no Isekai hell, no pony body. Just me and the apple. If this is what apples taste like here, things might not be so bad.
“You alright there, partner?” a new voice cuts in, snapping me back to reality. I look up and see an orange pony with a blonde mane trotting toward us. She’s got a cowboy hat perched on her head and a friendly smile on her face.
Scootaloo waves excitedly. “Hey, Applejack!”
The pony, Applejack, I guess, grins and tips her hat. “Howdy, Scootaloo!” She glances at me, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Well, I see y’all got one o’ our apples! Ain’t nothin’ quite like that first bite, huh?”
I nod slowly, still chewing. “Yeah... this is... really good.” I’m not even sure how to describe it. It’s like the apple version of a gourmet meal. The WAGYU of apples!
Applejack chuckles. “Reckon it’d be the best apple ya ever had, huh? Sweet Apple Acres grows the finest apples in all o’ Equestria, bar none. Every apple’s got that special somethin’.” She pauses, looking me over. “You must be new ’round these parts.”
“Yeah,” I say between bites, finally swallowing. “Just... got here.” Not that I had a choice. “And if every apple here tastes like this, I might stick around just for the food.”
She laughs, a hearty, genuine sound. “Well, shoot, we’d be happy to have ya stay. Name’s Applejack, by the way. This here’s my brother, Big Mac.” She gestures to the red pony, who gives his signature “Eeyup” without missing a beat.
“Let me guess,” I say, glancing between them, “you’re the ones who run this place?”
Applejack nods. “Sure do! Been in the family for generations. We work hard to keep Sweet Apple Acres runnin’ smooth.” She tips her hat again, pride evident in her voice. “Ain’t no better apples in all o’ Ponyville—heck, all o’ Equestria.”
I glance at the apple in my hoof, now just a core. “Yeah, I can see why. This thing’s dangerous. You could sell it on the black market or something.”
Applejack blinks, looking confused for a second. “Uh, well, we don’t really mess with no markets like that. We just sell ’em straight up, honest-like.” She flashes another smile. “But I appreciate the compliment!”
Scootaloo chimes in, bouncing a little. “See, Jax? I told you they had the best apples!”
I give her a nod, trying to think of a polite way to ask for more apples without coming across like a total freeloader. “So, uh, any chance I could grab a few more? You know, for... research purposes.”
Applejack raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, I reckon we can spare a couple more for ya. But if ya like ’em that much, feel free to come back anytime. We’re always sellin’.”
Big Mac nods. “Eeyup.”
I’m about to ask for a second apple when Applejack turns to Scootaloo. “What brings y’all out here anyhow, Scootaloo? Just showin’ your new friend ’round town?”
Scootaloo grins. “Yeah! I figured Jax should try the best food in Ponyville before anything else.”
Applejack chuckles. “Good call. Can’t go wrong with apples. Though, if you’re stickin’ around, you’ll have to try the pies, too. Granny Smith makes the best apple pie this side o’ Equestria.”
Hmm, apple pie…. that sounds like the best news I’ve heard since I got here. “Apple pie, huh? Yeah, I could go for that.”
“Y’all are welcome to join us for dinner sometime,” Applejack offers, smiling warmly. “Ain’t no better way to get acquainted with Ponyville than a good ol’-fashioned meal.”
I glance at Scootaloo, who’s practically bouncing with excitement, then back at Applejack. “Dinner sounds good,” I say, not wanting to pass up a chance for more food. Free food was the best kind of food.
Applejack beams. “Well, then, it’s settled. Y’all come by anytime, and we’ll fix ya up somethin’ real nice.” She nods toward the barn. “In fact, why don’tcha take a few apples with ya for the road?”
Big Mac moves over to a barrel and rolls a couple of apples my way. I manage to catch them, still trying to get used to this whole hoof thing. But I have found out that it works best when you don’t question it.
I nod in thanks, a faint smile on my face. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to... savor these.”
Author's Note
Note: This is all set before the events of the first season. So, Scootaloo hasn't befriended Applebloom and Sweetie Belle, they are just classmates that ignore each other for the time being.
There's a new Sheriff in town?
As the tour continued, I’ve gone from confused and annoyed to just... numb. There’s only so much weirdness a guy can process before his brain checks out. Talking ponies, apples that taste like heaven on earth, and a cat who thinks he’s royalty—and is probably orbiting the earth by now.
I mean, it was pretty clear that I had no control over anything. So, I was going with the flow.
Scootaloo was still bouncing around, leading me on her never-ending tour of Ponyville. I’m just trying to survive without tripping over my own hooves again or getting ambushed by another spontaneous musical number.
“And over there’s the town hall!” Scootaloo says, waving a hoof at yet another pastel-colored building. “That’s where the mayor works! Oh, and right here...” She stops in front of what looks like a literal tree-house. And by tree-house, I mean a tree— that’s a house. Actually, wait—no, it’s a library.
I squint at the sign on the door. “Library’s closed, help wanted.”
Scootaloo snickers. “Yeah, the library’s always super boring. I mean, who wants to sit around reading books all day?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Some people like books.”
She makes a face. “Books are for eggheads. You’re way too cool to be stuck working in some boring old library.”
I cross my hooves. “Yeah, well, I’m also broke. If they’re hiring, I could do worse than a library. At least it’s quiet.” And maybe if I was lucky, the library would be my safe haven, a place without... any of this.
Scootaloo looks at me like I just suggested moving to Mars. “Seriously? You’re thinking about working here?”
I shrug. “Why not? I’m new here, and money wouldn’t hurt.” And the bonus I might not have to interact with others was… just the sweet extra.
She shakes her head like she can’t believe it. “Jax, you fought off monsters! You’re, like, way too awesome to be a librarian.”
“I am?” I mutter, glancing back at the library’s help wanted sign. Honestly, the idea of spending my time in a quiet building full of books doesn’t sound half bad. It seemed like an easy paycheck.
Scootaloo tugs at my leg, trying to pull me away. “Come on! You don’t want to waste your time here. Let’s go talk to the mayor—maybe she has something cool for you to do.”
I roll my eyes but let her lead me back toward town hall. “Cool, huh? Like what, exactly?”
Scootaloo grins. “I dunno yet, but I’m sure it’ll be better than that.”
[New Quest!
Title: "A New Path in Strange Lands"
Objective: Find a job in this unfamiliar land!
Description:
Reward: One Gachapon Roll, 2 used socks, a stick, and the crafting system.]
No! You don’t get the credit for my initiative you lazy ass God!
A few minutes later, we’re standing in Mayor Mare’s office. It’s about as fancy and organized as you’d expect—lots of papers, plaques on the wall, and the mayor herself, sitting behind her desk, looking very much in charge. She’s got glasses perched on her nose and a white mane that looks like it’s been styled with a ruler.
“Welcome!” Mayor Mare says, standing up as we walk in. “How can I help you today?”
She has a name-tag… and it says, Mayor Mare… it can’t be right? Her name can’t be that uninspired.
I blink at her, then glance at Scootaloo, then back at her name-tag. “Wait... your name is actually Mayor Mare ? As in, Mayor and... Mare ?”
Mayor Mare smiles, completely unfazed. “That’s correct.”
I rub my forehead. “So... you’re the mayor, and your name just happens to be Mayor?”
“That’s right!” she says brightly, not picking up on my sarcasm.
I stare at her, trying to process this. “Wow. That’s... incredibly convenient.”
Scootaloo giggles, clearly enjoying the confusion on my face. “Yeah, it’s kind of funny when you think about it.”
I cross my hooves, raising an eyebrow. “What happens if you get replaced? Does the next one change their name to ‘Mayor Mare,’ too? Is it a title or a name? Or do you just... morph into the next mayor?”
Mayor Mare chuckles softly. “No, no. It’s simply my name. And as long as I’m serving Ponyville, I’ll continue being Mayor Mare. ”
I sigh. “I give up.”
Before I can dig any further into this extremely convenient name situation, Scootaloo jumps in. “This is Jax! He’s new in Ponyville, and he’s looking for a job!”
I nod, still a little hung up on the whole mayor-name thing. “Yeah, I saw the sign at the library. Thought I’d ask about the position. You know, filing books, helping ponies find what they’re reading...nothing like nurturing the next generation of readers-”
But before I can finish, Scootaloo wrinkles her nose in disgust. “But Jax is way too cool for some dusty old library! He’s a warrior ! He fought, like, twenty monsters in the Everfree Forest! He took them all down in one hit!”
I blink, staring at Scootaloo. Wait. What?
She’s just getting started. “He’s super strong! He beat these giant timberwolves like they were nothing! If you are going to give him a job, it should be something cool like him, like a super soldier or secret agent!”
I blink again, slowly turning to Mayor Mare. Oh well, I shouldn’t worry too much, there’s no way she’s gonna take the word of an excitable kid as an acceptable work reference, right?
Mayor Mare looks at me, her eyes wide, clearly impressed. “Is that true?”
Oh, come on! Can one thing be logical around here?!
I open my mouth to respond, but Scootaloo’s already nodding like crazy. “Yep! He’s, like, the toughest pony ever! You can’t waste his talent on… ugh, books. He should be out there keeping everypony safe!”
I stare at Scootaloo. “She’s just an excitable kid.”
“And humble, oh my… Well,” Mayor Mare says, adjusting her glasses, “Now that I think about it, Ponyville hasn’t had a proper sheriff in quite some time. It’s usually a peaceful town, but with the Everfree Forest nearby... it might be a good idea to have somepony around to watch over things.”
There’s no way this is happening.
I blink again, trying to figure out how this situation escalated so quickly. “Wait a second,” I say, holding up a hoof. “I’m not sure where this is going, but I feel obligated to state I am not trained for a law-enforcement job, I am very underqualified for that…”
Scootaloo bounces on her hooves, grinning. “Come on, Jax! Don’t be modest! You’d make an awesome sheriff! You’re strong, you’re cool, and you already fought monsters!”
I rub my face with my hoof.
Mayor Mare claps her hooves together, already looking pleased with the outcome. “Wonderful! I’ll have the paperwork drawn up, and you can start as soon as possible. Welcome to the team, Sheriff Jax!”
I stare at her in disbelief. “I didn’t... What?”
Scootaloo grins up at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “See? Told you it’d be better than the library!”
I rub my temple, feeling a headache coming on. This is a nightmare. This world, these ponies, they… are my personal hell.
[Quest Completed!
Title: "A New Path in Strange Lands"
Objective: Find a job in this unfamiliar land!
Description:
Reward: One Gachapon Roll, 2 used socks, a stick, and the crafting system.]
I don’t know what happened…
I’m standing in front of what is now, apparently, my house. A house. An entire house. In the middle of town. And the keys are in my hoof. I’m holding the keys to my new house with the other hoof clutching a bag of coins—bits they called them. I think I’m still processing how the past ten minutes escalated from me eating an apple to being declared the sheriff of Ponyville. Not sure what I’m supposed to do with this, but here we are.
“Thanks for accepting the position, Sheriff Jax!” Mayor Mare had said, handing me the bag of bits like it was all perfectly normal. “And of course, your uniform!”
The uniform… she mentioned? A pair of sunglasses and a shiny gold sheriff’s star. That’s it. No badge, no actual clothes—just these sunglasses and a star. Honestly, the shades are kind of cool, and I might use them whenever I have to fight whatever this town’s idea of crime is.
I glance over at Scootaloo, who’s already charging into my new house, like she owns the place. “Hey, Sheriff!” she calls out, disappearing inside. “This house is awesome! You’ve got, like, so much space!”
“Yeah, that’s great,” I mumble, still standing in the doorway.
I take a breath and follow Scootaloo inside. It’s... surprisingly decent. Simple, clean, not too many overly bright colors. I could get used to this. There's even a couch. A couch! I haven’t sat on a proper sitting place since I arrived here, and while I have only been here for a few hours, I already missed my couch.
Scootaloo is already bouncing around the place like a hyperactive ball of energy. “You’ve got a kitchen, too! And a bed! Ooh, and a fireplace! This place is great!”
I stare at her for a second before something clicks in my head. “Hey, speaking of which, don’t your parents, I dunno... care that you’re hanging out with some stranger? I mean, I could be a serial killer for all they know.”
Scootaloo just laughs like I’m the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “You’re not a stranger, silly! You’re the sheriff! That makes you the safest pony in all of Ponyville to be around!”
I blink. “I… hmmm.” I rub my face with a hoof, muttering to myself, “Does no one in this world have a sense of self-preservation?”
Scootaloo is too busy exploring the house to notice my existential crisis. She pops her head out of one of the rooms. “I told you I would find you an awesome job! And I did! You’re a sheriff now, you’ve got your own house... you’re set! That’s the Scootaloo guarantee for ya!”
I look around at the surprisingly cozy living room. She’s not wrong. I mean, sure, this is all beyond weird, and I still don’t understand how this world works, but hey—I’ve got a job, a house, and a sack of bits. Maybe being stuck here isn’t the worst thing in the world. Pony or not, things are kind of looking up.
“Yeah,” I say, chuckling to myself. “I guess things aren’t so bad after all, and you did help out a lot kiddo. I’ve got money, I’ve got a place to stay, and I get to wear sunglasses at all times. Could be worse, right?”
Just as I start to lean back into my new couch, feeling pretty good about my situation, everything goes dark.
Literally.
As someone puts a bag over my head.
“WHAT THE—?!” I scream in a... totally manly, not-at-all-terrified way. Definitely not a high-pitched squeal or anything like that.
I thrash around for a second, my heart racing, trying to figure out what’s happening. Am I being kidnapped? Is this how I die? Again?
And just as suddenly as the bag was thrown over me, it’s ripped off. I blink, my vision adjusting, and find myself surrounded by a bunch of ponies—cheerful, smiling ponies. I’m in a park, and there’s a big banner that says “WELCOME TO PONYVILLE, SHERIFF JAX!”
I’m frozen in place, my brain still catching up to the fact that I’m not, in fact, about to be murdered.
“SURPRISE!!!” they all scream in unison, balloons popping up out of nowhere, streamers flying everywhere. And standing in front of me, grinning like she’s the happiest pony alive, is that pink demon from earlier. Pinkie Pie.
“Right… the party,” I groan, rubbing my face.
Pinkie Pie bounces forward, giggling. “Did we surprise you?! Huh? Huh?! I told you I’d find you if you missed my party!”
Before I can respond, she suddenly leans in close—way too close—whispering in my ear in a dark, almost creepy tone, “I told you I’d find you… don’t try that again.”
I freeze, my whole body tensing up as her words sink in. “Creepy…”
Then, just like that, her grin returns to full force, and she bounces away, shouting, “Time to party!!!”
The crowd of ponies erupts into cheers as music starts playing, balloons start floating around, and Pinkie zooms off to do who-knows-what. I just stand there, blinking, still trying to comprehend what just happened.
Scootaloo, who apparently had no problem teleporting herself here in record time, shows up at my side, grinning like she’s having the time of her life. “Pretty cool party, huh?”
I stare at her, still recovering from the near-heart attack. “Yeah, great. Could do without the kidnapping, but cool party nevertheless, I suppose.”
She shrugs. “That’s just Pinkie Pie. She’s, like, the queen of parties. Nopony throws a party like her!”
“Yeah, well, remind me to never miss one of her parties again,” I mutter, glancing over at Pinkie, who’s now balancing a tray of cupcakes on her head while somehow tying balloons to the trees. This place just gets weirder by the minute.
A pony I don’t recognize walks up and offers me a cupcake. I take it, because… well, food. I don’t say no to food, no matter the source. Might as well enjoy the sugar rush.
As I bite into the cupcake, I look around the park, wondering If I would ever get used to this crazy place.
Sighing, I look down at the cupcake in my hoof. “Well, at least the food’s good.”
Help me Step-pony, I'm stuck!
I wake up to the sun blasting through my window like it’s got a personal vendetta against me, and is it me, or is the sun brighter here? I groan, blinking against the bright light and rubbing my face with a hoof.
I sit up, groggy, half-expecting that everything that happened yesterday was just some bizarre dream. But nope. As soon as I sit up and look around, I’m still in the same house. My house. In Ponyville. The same wooden floors, the same furniture. The same sheriff badge sitting on the bedside table.
I pick it up and squint at it.
“Right... I’m the sheriff,” I mutter to myself, tossing it back down on the table. “Which means… That wasn’t a fever dream.”
I stretch out, feeling my back pop in a way that makes me wonder if ponies need chiropractors. Then I hop off the bed, landing awkwardly on my hooves. I was making progress with the whole walking thing, it was like crawling, but instead of being optional, it was forever.
I yawn and drag myself to the kitchen. It’s all open space and minimal furniture, so it’s not hard to find. I haven’t eaten anything since Pinkie’s party, and if I’m going to survive another day in this acid trip of a town, I need coffee. Desperately.
Problem is, I don’t exactly know how to make coffee now. I mean, I used to have hands. Hands were great. Hands were awesome, hands made coffee easy. Now? I have hooves. Hooves are... not hands, hooves are not great. But hey, no big deal, right? How hard can it be to make coffee without fingers?
I open a cabinet with a hoof, fumbling a little before finding what looks like a coffee pot. Thank God—or whatever passes for a god in this world—they have coffee here. I poke around a bit more, eventually finding some coffee grounds in a little tin container. So far, so good. Coffee acquired. Now for the tricky part: making it.
I can do this.
I stare at the coffee pot for a long moment, realizing this is going to be a lot harder than I thought. I manage to get the lid off with my teeth—because when in need, use what you have and that’s a thing I have to do now—then fumble around with the coffee grounds. After about five minutes of struggling, spilling grounds everywhere, and muttering curses under my breath, I somehow manage to get the coffee grounds into the pot.
“Okay, okay, we’re doing this,” I mutter, grabbing the pot by the handle and trying not to spill it everywhere. “I’m practically a barista now.”
I find the faucet and try to turn it on with my hoof. It’s like trying to open a jar with mittens on. I can hear the universe laughing at me as I fumble around, twisting my hoof awkwardly to get the water running.
Finally, water starts flowing, and I fill up the coffee pot. I’m about to congratulate myself when I realize... I have no idea how their coffee makers work here.
There’s no machine, no buttons to press. Just an old-school stovetop thing that looks like it’s straight out of my grandma’s kitchen. Great.
I grumble to myself, turning on the stove with way too much effort, balancing the coffee pot on the burner like I’m defusing a bomb. Once it’s all set, I step back, sighing. Now all I have to do is wait for it to brew. And hope I don’t set the house on fire.
While the coffee’s brewing, I lean against the counter, staring out the window at the pastel-colored chaos that is my world now. To be honest, I’m half expecting something ridiculous to happen at any moment—like that pink demon, Pinkie Pie popping out of my cabinets with confetti or a musical number starting up outside.
But no. It’s quiet. Peaceful, even.
I have a house. I have coffee—well, I will soon. And I have a job. I’m the sheriff. All things considered, this isn’t the worst setup in the world. Maybe... maybe I can work with this. You know, make the best out of it. It could be worse, right?
I mean, discount Gandalf could’ve sent me to Care Bear universe.
As I mused about other possible hells. The coffee starts to bubble on the stove, and I let out a satisfied sigh. “Take that universe! Finally, something goes right.”
I grab a mug from the cabinet—still using my teeth because hooves are a hit and miss for me—and pour myself a cup. I take a sip, and...
Holy hell, that’s good coffee.
I blink in surprise, taking another sip. “Okay, I don’t know if this is pony magic or what, but this might be the best coffee I’ve ever had.”
I lean against the counter, holding the mug between my hooves, and let the sweet caffeine slowly seep into my system. It’s almost enough to make me forget about how weird everything is. Almost. Maybe a second cup would do the trick?
Just as I’m starting to relax, I hear a noise behind me. A shuffling sound. I freeze, my brain immediately jumping to the worst possible conclusion: Oh God, is it Pinkie Pie? Did she actually find a way to hide in my house? Is she going to kidnap me again?
Not this time!
I will fight back!
I whip around, ready to punch the pink demon, only to find... Scootaloo. She’s standing in the doorway, grinning at me like she’s been here the whole time.
“Hey, Sheriff!” she chirps.
I nearly drop my holy elixir. “Do you ever knock?”
She shrugs, trotting into the kitchen like she owns the place. “Nah. Your door was open, so I figured I’d come in.”
I stare at her, dumbfounded. “You can’t just walk into someone’s house, kid. And besides, don’t you have like… school or something to do right now?”
She gives me a look like I just said the dumbest thing in the world. “School starts in two hours, so I came by to check on ya.”
I sigh, rubbing my temple with a hoof. “Awesome.”
Scootaloo trots over to the counter, eyeing the coffee pot. “What’s that?”
“Coffee,” I mutter, taking another sip. “You know, the thing that keeps adults from murdering people before noon?”
Scootaloo scrunches up her nose. “Gross. Why would you drink that?”
I shake my head. “Because life is exhausting, God hates me, and sometimes you need a little help surviving it.”
She shrugs, clearly uninterested in my coffee-drinking habits, and starts bouncing around the kitchen. “So, what’s on the agenda today, Sheriff?”
I sigh, finishing off my coffee. “Honestly? I have no idea. I’ve been a sheriff for less than 24 hours, so I don’t know… walk around town and wait for something to happen?”
Scootaloo grins. “You could always fight some more monsters! Or maybe you could chase down some bad guys!”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are there even bad guys in this town?”
She blinks. “Uh... I dunno. But it’d be cool if there were, right?”
I chuckle, “I suppose.”
After what felt like an eternity of Scootaloo bouncing around my kitchen, I finally convince her that, yes, school is important, and yes, she probably should get going. Being the new sheriff apparently means I have to escort kids to school now, which is fine, I guess. At least I get out of the house.
“So, what’s school like here, anyway?” I ask as we walk down the street with her. I’m not sure why I’m making small talk with a hyperactive filly, but it’s better than awkward silence. Besides, I kind of like her company, she acts normal compared to the rest of these ponies.
Scootaloo shrugs. “It’s school. Pretty boring. Miss Cheerilee teaches us stuff, we take breaks, we go home. Same as anywhere, I guess.”
Well, to be honest, that sounds pretty normal all things considered.
As we approach the school, I catch sight of a few more fillies and colts running around in the playground. I guess this is my cue to leave before someone ropes me into more of this “community bonding” nonsense.
“Alright, kiddo,” I say, stopping just outside the gate. “You’re on your own now. Try not to do anything too... crazy.”
She gives me a confused look but shrugs it off. “See ya, Sheriff!” Scootaloo waves and trots off, disappearing into the crowd of kids, leaving me standing there, alone, feeling like the world’s most confused babysitter.
I let out a long sigh, turning around and heading back toward town. “Okay, Jax. Let’s get to work.”
With nothing better to do, I decide to take a walk around the town. I doubt there’s any crime in this place, but I am being paid to do something, and I was nothing if not responsible.
I pass a couple of stands in the market, ponies selling apples, flowers, baked goods—typical stuff. Most of them greet me with a smile and a wave, hell some even offer me free stuff, which is weird. People back home never smiled this much, unless they wanted something. Then again, maybe they are trying to get on my good side, because I’m the Sheriff, who knows?
“Morning, Sheriff!” one of them calls out.
I nod awkwardly. “Morning.” News sure travel fast here.
As I turn a corner, something—or rather, someone—catches my eye. A pony with a mane that looks like it belongs in a shampoo commercial is walking toward me. Her purple hair is perfectly curled, shiny enough to blind someone on a sunny day. Great. I already hate her.
She waves at me with a dainty hoof. “Oh, darling!”
I blink. Darling? I glance behind me, hoping she’s talking to someone else, but nope. She’s looking right at me. This can’t be good.
She trots up to me with a smile that’s just a little too perfect. “You must be the new sheriff everyone’s talking about! I’ve heard so much about you! A valiant hero who fights monsters without fear!”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh… well, I’ve been a sheriff for about... twelve hours. What’s the town gossip already?”
The mare giggles like I just told the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, Ponyville is such a close-knit community! We hear about everything.” She bats her eyelashes at me. “I’m Rarity, by the way.”
I’m not surprised by the name. Though I did expect her name to be something like, Beautiful Mane or L’oreal or something…
I give her a nod. “Jax.”
“Well, Sheriff Jax,” she says, her eyes scanning me up and down like I’m some kind of exhibit. “I must say, your body and coat are simply divine!”
I freeze for a second, not sure how to respond to that. “Uh... thanks? I guess?”
She steps closer, circling around me like she’s appraising a prize pony, while making me feel I need an adultier adult. “Oh, yes. Such a rugged look. And that coat—so earthy, so... natural.”
I blink, wondering if this is a compliment or if I should be insulted. “I… thanks?.”
Rarity giggles again, fluttering her eyelashes at me. “Simply delightful!” She pauses, looking me over again before her gaze lands on my sheriff’s badge. “Although... I must say, that uniform is a bit... underwhelming, don’t you think?”
I glance down at my sunglasses and the star pinned to my chest. “Underwhelming? Lady, this is all they gave me.”
She gasps dramatically, as if I just told her I was wearing a potato sack. “What?! Oh, no, no, no! We simply cannot have our new sheriff wearing such... plain attire!”
I raise an eyebrow. “What else do I need? A cape?”
Rarity’s eyes sparkle at the suggestion. “Oh, a cape would be fabulous! But no, no, no! I’m thinking something more... elegant.” She taps her chin, deep in thought. “Yes, I could design something for you. Something bold! Strong! Yet refined. You’d look simply marvelous.”
I rub the back of my neck with a hoof. “I’m really not sure I need anything fancy. I mean… I’m not exactly going to a fashion show.”
“Oh, but darling,” Rarity coos, stepping closer, “you must look the part. First impressions are everything! And as Ponyville’s sheriff, you should represent yourself with style, don’t you think?”
I open my mouth to argue but quickly realize I don’t have the energy to fight her on this. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
She grins, clearly pleased with herself. “Not a chance, darling.”
I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Fine, fine. Do whatever you want. Just... try not to make it too ridiculous, okay? I still have to walk around in this thing, also I feel obligated to disclose my budget is non-existent, so… I can’t pay you.”
I probably could, I had a bag of bits… but I rather save that for the one thing I love, food.
Rarity claps her hooves together excitedly. “Oh don’t you worry about that, it’ll be perfect! I’ll make sure it’s both functional and fashionable! You won’t be disappointed.”
I give her a halfhearted nod. “Yeah, sure. Can’t wait.”
After my encounter with Miss L’oreal, aka—Rarity—I decide to keep moving, continuing with my patrol, not really expecting much to do. I mean, this place practically runs on sunshine and rainbows. So, chances are my job will be just this, walking.
As I muse about my responsibilities, turning around the corner, something hops into my path.
I stop, looking down to find... a bunny. A tiny, white bunny. He’s sitting there in the middle of the road, staring up at me like he’s expecting something. I blink, half-expecting the little critter to talk. But nope. He just stares.
“Uh... hey, little guy,” I say, not sure how to greet a rabbit. “You lost or something?”
The bunny just blinks at me, clearly unimpressed. Even the wildlife here has attitude. But hey, he’s better than the Cat I first encountered.
“Right. I guess that means you don’t talk,” I mumble, stepping around him to continue my patrol. “I’ll leave you to it.”
But the second I take a step forward, the bunny darts in front of me again, blocking my path. I frown, glancing down at him. “Hmm... Do you need something?”
The bunny crosses his little arms—do bunnies even have arms? —and taps his foot, glaring up at me like I’ve somehow wronged him. I half-expect him to pull out a clipboard and start filing complaints.
“Okay, seriously,” I say, leaning down a bit, “are you a normal bunny or are you one of those talking animals? Because I’m not in the mood for another one just yet, and the last one is probably two zip codes away.”
The bunny just glares at me, clearly not interested in making small talk. Instead, he points behind him, toward a small path leading out of the main part of town. He gestures again, more urgently this time, like I’m supposed to follow him.
I raise an eyebrow. “What, you want me to go that way?”
He nods, still pointing toward the path.
I sigh, rubbing my temple. “Alright, fine. Let’s see where this goes. But if you’re leading me into some kind of bunny ambush, I warn ya, I am tougher than I look.”
With an exaggerated eye roll, I decide to humor the little guy and follow him. If nothing else, maybe someone actually needs help. Who knows, maybe that’s part of my job now.
The bunny leads me through the winding path, hopping along like he’s in a hurry. I trudge behind him, wondering if this is going to be one of those moments where I end up regretting my decision. After a few minutes of walking, we come to a small clearing near the edge of a forest.
And that’s when I see it—or, rather, her.
Sticking out of a tree, legs kicking helplessly in the air, is the rear end of a yellow pony with a long pink tail. That’s right. Just the butt. No head. No neck. Just pony rear, trapped in the branches.
I blink, taking in the scene. “Oh, well... this is awkward.” I inwardly chuckle at the joke that comes to mind.
Step-pony, I’m stuck, help.
The bunny taps his foot impatiently, glaring at me like I’m supposed to know what to do. Right. The bunny wasn’t leading me here to laugh—he just wanted me to help some poor pony stuck in a tree.
I sigh, walking up to the scene. “Alright….” I look up at the yellow pony, whose back legs are still flailing in the air. “Uh... hey. You alright up there?”
The pony’s legs freeze mid-kick. “Oh my goodness!” a soft, squeaky voice calls from within the branches. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to get stuck, I just—oh, dear!”
I suppress a chuckle. “Yeah, I can see that. You need some help or what?”
The legs wiggle again, and the voice squeaks out, even quieter this time, “Oh, yes, please... I’m terribly sorry for the trouble.”
I grab hold of her legs with my hooves—still getting used to this whole “doing things without hands” deal—and give a firm pull. With a little effort, the pony pops free from the tree, landing with a soft thud on the ground.
She immediately scrambles to her feet—or hooves, whatever—her head hanging low, eyes darting to the ground like she’s scared to even look at me. Her long pink mane falls over half her face, and she’s mumbling something so softly, I can barely hear her.
I lean in, trying to catch what she’s saying. “Uh, you alright there?”
She squeaks again, shrinking into herself like a turtle retreating into its shell. “I... um... th-thank you,” she whispers, her voice so soft it’s like she’s trying to apologize for existing.
I blink, trying to figure out if she’s actually talking or just breathing at me. “Sorry, didn’t catch that.”
Her cheeks turn pink, and she hides even more behind her mane. “Th-thank you...” she whispers again, just a tiny bit louder. Barely.
I nod slowly, deciding it’s best to just roll with it. “Right. No problem.”
The bunny hops over to her, tapping her leg as if to get her attention. She looks down at him, then back up at me, her wide teal eyes filled with anxiety. “I-I’m sorry if I caused any trouble,” she mumbles, still barely audible. “I didn’t mean to... I was just trying to... help a bird.”
I wave a hoof, trying to dismiss her apology before she implodes from nervousness. “Nah, you’re fine. Just try not to get stuck in any more trees, okay?”
She nods quickly, her face turning even redder. “I-I will. I’m... s-so sorry.”
I sigh. “You don’t need to apologize. It happens, I guess.”
She peeks out from behind her mane, her eyes darting between me and the bunny, “Thank you again... Mr. Sheriff. I-I didn’t know we had a sheriff.”
I scratch the back of my neck awkwardly. “I started yesterday.”
She nods, still not quite meeting my eyes. “I-I’m... Fluttershy.”
Her voice is so quiet, I almost don’t catch it. “What was that?”
God this pony is shy. And here I thought seven year old me was socially awkward.
Her cheeks puff up as she tries to gather her courage, and finally she says, just barely loud enough to hear, “Fluttershy.”
“Got it,” I say, giving her a nod. “Jax.”
She nods quickly, then goes back to staring at the ground. The bunny glares at me, as if daring me to say something that might upset her, which is apparently... anything at this point.
“Alright, well... it was a pleasure, Fluttershy,” I say, giving her a little wave as I turn to leave.
After my little adventure with the quietest pony and her glaring bunny, I decided to focus on something a little less... strange. I mean, sure walking around and doing nothing was fine by me, most days, but right now… I needed to know more about this world, and until I did, well… just walking around wasn’t a productive use of my time. After all, if I’m going to be stuck in this world, I might as well start figuring out the lay of the land.
That, well… I’ve been meaning to check out that library ever since Scootaloo dragged me around town.
The library was closed when I first saw it, but maybe now that I’m the so-called sheriff, I can poke around. Who knows, maybe they’ve got something useful in there. A map. A guide to understanding magical ponies. A beginner’s manual on surviving whatever cartoonish nightmare I’m living in.
Jokes aside, my main goal there was reading about this world and its history.
Decision made, I head toward the mayor’s office, after all, if anyone can give me access to the library, it was probably the pony in charge. Mayor Mare, the pony with the redundant name. Still can't get over that. Talk about setting someone up for their life path.
The walk to her office is peaceful enough, although a few ponies wave at me every now and then, like I’m some kind of celebrity. It’s weird being greeted by everyone, especially when I’m used to people just not acknowledging each other on a day to day basis, unless they know each other personally.
After a few minutes of trotting, I finally made it to the town hall, the building looking just as cutesy and colorful as I remembered. Rolling my eyes, I push the door open, and there she is—Mayor Redundant, sitting behind her desk, shuffling some papers. She looks up the moment I enter and gives me the same overly cheery smile I’ve seen a hundred times since I got here.
“Ah! Sheriff Jax!” she says, standing up to greet me. “I was just about to look for you!”
I raise an eyebrow. “You were?”
She nods enthusiastically. “Yes! There are a few things I wanted to go over with you, now that you’ve officially started your duties.”
I can’t help but smirk. “Right. ‘Official duties.’ Gotta say, I’ve been doing a lot of patrolling and, uh... dealing with bunnies so far.”
She laughs lightly, clearly not picking up on the sarcasm. “Oh, don’t worry. Things tend to be peaceful around here, but it’s always good to have a sheriff around just in case, it gives everyone around the piece of mind to know there’s somepony as capable as you to protect them, should anything go wrong.”
“Uh-huh.” I glance around her office, which is pretty standard for a small-town mayor—lots of papers, a couple of plaques on the wall, and a little potted plant that looks like it’s seen better days. “So, I was actually wondering if I could check out the library. You know, since I’m supposed to be familiar with the town and all.”
“Oh, of course!” Mayor Mare says, perking up. “In fact, I was just about to give you these.” She pulls open a drawer and takes out a ring of keys—a lot of keys.
I blink. “That’s a lot of keys for a library.”
“Oh, well, that’s because these are the keys to all the town buildings!” she says proudly, holding them out to me like she’s bestowing some ancient treasure. “You’ll need these for your duties, of course.”
I stare at the ring of keys, my brain still processing what she just said. “Uh… shouldn’t you… first, I don’t know, see if my performance is up to standards before giving me these?”
She nods. “Nonsense! You are overqualified as it is, besides, as the sheriff, you should have access to all the important places in town—the library, the schoolhouse, my office, and a few other places, like the playground.”
I take the keys slowly, feeling the weight of them in my hoof. “If you say so.”
I’m starting to think that background checks don’t exist in this world. I mean, sure, I hadn’t done anything bad… but, I don’t know, it just feels weird all this blind trust.
Mayor Mare just waves a hoof dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry about that. You’re the sheriff! You’ll need access to everything so you can act quickly if anything happens.”
I open my mouth to reply, but then I remember where I am. This is Ponyville. The same town that put me in charge within five minutes of meeting me. Why would they think twice about handing me the keys to the whole place?
I glance down at the keys in my hoof again. “Right. So I’ve got access to... everything.”
“Everything important, yes!” she says with a smile. “The library, the school, the town’s vault, and even the town hall after hours.”
Did… did she say the Town’s vault, as in… the place where the town keeps their money? Has… has no one scammed or swindled these ponies before?
“Well that’s to be expected,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head. “Totally normal.”
She doesn’t seem to catch my sarcasm—or if she does, she’s ignoring it. “If you have any questions, just let me know! And don’t hesitate to make yourself at home.”
I nod slowly, still staring at the keys like she’s about to tell me it was all a joke, or something. “Thanks.”
Mayor Mare beams. “We’re so lucky to have you, Sheriff Jax. I just know you’ll do a wonderful job. Ponies are already talking about you taking Scootaloo to class, instead of letting her skip. Such a dutiful Sheriff.”
I force a smile. “No skipping on my watch.” It wasn’t like I had taken her to school just to get her off my back for a few hours. No no no, it was me being responsible.
[New Quest Available!
Title: "Knowledge is Power."
Objective: Read a few books from the library.
Description:
Rewards: One Gachapon Roll, One Pound of Premium Coffee Beans, Basic Tutorial.]
NO! You don’t get to take credit for my initiative! That being said… I do want those premium coffee beans… And I’m already going to the library regardless, so why not?
With the ring of keys still jingling in my mouth, I make my way toward the library. They are lucky I’m not a criminal, but they don’t know that. For all they know, I could be planning a heist, and they’ve just handed me the golden ticket to rob them blind, but again, they were lucky.
Shaking my head, I reach the library and find it exactly as I last saw it—quiet, closed, and looking like it hasn’t been touched in ages. I fiddle with the keys for a moment before finding the right one and unlocking the door.
Huh, who would’ve thought that opening doors with your mouth wasn’t that hard.
As I step inside, the first thing that hits me is the dust. This place smells like it’s been abandoned for years. Cobwebs line the corners of the ceiling, and the bookshelves are covered in a fine layer of dust. It's like the place has been collecting dust as a hobby.
“Does no one in this town reads?” I mutter under my breath, shutting the door behind me.
I walk through the rows of bookshelves, scanning the spines of the books. Most of them are thick, leather-bound things with titles that don’t mean much to me—things like “Magical Theory 101,” “Equestrian Geography,” and “The Magic of Smiles.” That last one makes me gag a little.
After wandering around for a bit, I start pulling a few books off the shelves. I grab one on Equestrian history, another on customs and culture, and a few others on law and economics. If this world was to be my new… ugh, home, I might as well learn how it works. And hey, maybe one of these books will explain why everything here looks like it was designed by a kindergarten art class on a sugar rush.
I take the stack of books over to a small table near the window, brushing off a layer of dust before sitting down. The sunlight streams through the dirty window, giving the place a weird, gloomy vibe, which is fitting for how I feel right now.
“Alright,” I mutter, cracking open the book on culture. “Let’s see what kind of society I’m dealing with.”
The first few pages are pretty standard—stuff about pony tribes, how unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies all have different abilities, blah blah blah. I skim through most of it, flipping past sections about ancient pony traditions and festivals that sound suspiciously like excuses to throw confetti everywhere. But then I hit a section that makes me stop.
“Wait... what?”
I blink, rereading the paragraph. It talks about something called “herds,” which, apparently, is a common practice in Equestria. With more mares than stallions, it’s encouraged for stallions to... share themselves among multiple mares. As in, they’re supposed to have more than one partner. It’s not just accepted—it’s expected.
I stare at the page. “So... basically... polygamy the norm here.”
According to the book, stallions are encouraged to form herds with multiple mares because of the massive gender imbalance in Equestria. There are multiple reasons listed as to why this is, but the main one is because it helps maintain a healthy population.
I slowly close the book, my mind still buzzing. “Okay, well... that was uncomfortable.” I toss the book onto the table, not caring that it sends up a small cloud of dust. “That’s not something I needed to know right now.”
The last thing I want to think about is some kind of polygamy system, especially considering the already looming threat of the harem cliche… waiting to strike when I least expect it.
I rub my temple, sighing. “I suppose that if I think about it… this might be one of the easiest cliches to avoid, I mean, had it been a world with humans or at least, humanoid creatures… it would’ve actually been a challenge to avoid succumbing to my base desires, thankfully that isn’t the case here.”
Shoving the book aside, I grab the one on history, hoping it’ll be a little less... awkward. The cover is plain, just “Equestrian History” written in gold lettering. I flip it open, skimming the first few chapters. It talks about the founding of Equestria, some kind of big freeze caused by magical creatures called Windigos, and how the three pony tribes had to come together to survive.
Okay, that’s more like it. Normal history stuff. Well, as normal as it can be at least.
The further I read, the more I don’t understand. “Well… this has to be bullshit…” According to the book, the unicorns used to be in charge of raising the sun and the moon, instead of the planet doing what it's supposed to do, rotate around the sun… the book also states that the unicorns stopped doing that a few thousand years ago. It doesn’t really explain why, but it mentions that the task was taken over by some kind of magical princess.
I keep reading, flipping through sections about ancient wars, treaties, and a bunch of royal drama that sounds like something out of a soap opera.
“Alright, so a magic princess controls the sun and moon, and everyone seems cool with that,” I mutter. “Ignoring the fact that… well, it’s hard to believe, and I'm not sure there's enough science to back that up, how can anyone be okay with that?”
I mean, if it was true… It meant that said Princess could kill all living beings on earth by just moving the sun a few inches closer to the planet, or not moving it at all. And that’s just the sun, moving the moon around without care could drown everyone…
If someone with that kind of power… ever became evil or had a tantrum, life as they know it would cease to exist before they can even register what happened.
“Ok… I need to get my head out of that can of worms,” Sighing, I toss the history book aside and pick up the one on law. Might as well find out what the rules are around here, in case I accidentally break some ancient pony tradition and get banished or worse… betrothed to someone without knowing because I smiled at them the wrong way, or something.
The law book is just as dry as I expected. It’s mostly a lot of rules about property, contracts, and other legal jargon that makes my eyes glaze over. But there are a few things that stand out—like how there’s apparently a law that says you can’t turn down an invitation to a royal hearing if said hearing is hosted by someone named Celestia.
I flip through a few more pages, skimming over more nonsense about party permits and something about cake courts whatever that means.
Finally, I grab the last book in the stack—economics. Not the most exciting topic, but I figure it’s worth knowing how money works here, especially since I just got paid in a bag of shiny gold coins. I crack it open, flipping through the pages. Most of it is pretty standard stuff—trade, supply and demand, the value of bits, all that.
But then there’s a section that catches my eye. It talks about something called cutie mark consultancy, where ponies with special talents offer their services to others for a fee. Basically, if you’re good at something, you can charge people—er, ponies—to help them figure out their own talents. It’s like career counseling, but with more magical butt tattoos.
“Cutie mark consultancy,” I mutter to myself. “That’s one way to make a living, I guess.”
I shut the book, leaning back in my chair and staring up at the ceiling. So, to sum up: I’m in a world where the sun and moon, and by proxy all living creatures are controlled by a magical princess, there’s a weird gender imbalance that encourages polygamy, and you can make money by helping people figure out what picture should be on their butt. Fantastic.
I glance over at the stack of books on the table. “Well, that was... informative. Not sure if I’m better off knowing any of this, but at least I’ve got a better idea of how things work around here.”
[Quest Completed!
Title: "Knowledge is Power."
Objective: Read a few books from the library.
Description:
Rewards: One Gachapon Roll, One Pound of Premium Coffee Beans, Basic Tutorial.]
Author's Note
He has two Gachapon rolls to use. The Achievement Nightmare!
After my little library adventure, I decided to go back to what I was doing before, wandering around town.
As I stroll down the annoyingly cheerful streets, nodding at ponies who wave at me like I’m some kind of local hero, I notice that my so-called gaming system is still hovering quietly in the corner of my vision. Despite everything the thing has been behaving itself lately—no new notifications, no annoying pop-ups.
I jinxed it… didn’t I?
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Taking a Stroll’ – Congratulations! You’ve walked 100 steps around Ponyville! +1 Gachapon Roll!]
I freeze mid-step. “God damn it…”
Ding! Another one pops up.
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Breathe In, Breathe Out’ – Congrats on not forgetting how to breathe! +1 Gachapon roll!]
I groan, rubbing my temple with a hoof. “Oh, so that’s how it's gonna be?!”
Before I can even take another step, another notification pops up.
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Sheriff on Patrol’ – You’ve been walking around town for five whole minutes! Wow, what dedication! +1 Gachapon Roll!]
I grit my teeth. “I swear, if this thing doesn’t stop...”
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Hello There!’ – You waved at a passing pony. +1 Gachapon roll!]
I glare at the glowing screen in front of me, my eyes twitching. “Gandalf! What are you doing?! Even for cliches this is bad! Achievements for walking? Breathing? Waving? What's next, an achievement for blinking?”
Fuck me, I gave him ideas...
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Blink and You’ll Miss It!’ – Congratulations! You blinked! +1 Gachapon Roll!]
I stand there, completely dumbfounded. The notifications keep coming, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. It’s like some nightmare version of those old websites that hit you with a thousand pop-ups as soon as you clicked the wrong link.
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Standing Ovation!’ – You’ve stood still for 30 seconds! Take a load off, champ! +1 Gachapon Roll!]
My hooves dig into the ground as I try to keep from losing it. “Why. Won’t. You. Stop?”
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Cool as a Cucumber’ – You didn’t explode in anger! +1 Gachapon roll!]
My eye twitches again. “Oh… I am close… you annoying God.”
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Talking to Yourself’ – You muttered under your breath. Are you okay? +1 Gachapon roll!]
I groan loudly and try to ignore it, continuing my walk down the street. But the notifications won’t stop. Every little thing I do—every step, every breath, every thought—it’s all an excuse for another achievement.
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘One Step Closer’ – You’ve taken 500 steps! Slow down, you’re making the rest of us look bad! +1 Gachapon Roll!]
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Not a Statue’ – You moved again after standing still for a while! What a champ! +1 Gachapon Roll!]
I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to scream. “This is my hell… I am not in an isekai, I’m in my personal hell…”
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Trying Your Best’ – You’re making it through the day! Keep going, champ! +1 Gachapon roll!]
I stop dead in my tracks, glaring at the endless stream of pop-ups. “You know what? Give me infinite rolls for all I care! I’m not playing your game. I’m not rolling for anything. You can give me all the achievements in the world, but I’m not touching that stupid Gachapon.”
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Defiant Hero’ – You refused to roll! What a rebel! +2 Gachapon rolls!]
I throw my head back and groan. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Ponies around me are starting to stare, probably wondering why the new sheriff is yelling at thin air. I plaster a fake smile on my face, trying to look like everything is fine, like I’m not being driven insane by an invisible notification system.
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Holding It Together’ – You haven’t screamed at anypony in public yet! +1 Gachapon roll!]
I grit my teeth and keep walking, my eyes twitching as more and more notifications pop up in front of me, each one more ridiculous than the last.
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Breathing Is Hard’ – You’ve taken 1,000 breaths! Keep it up! +1 Gachapon Roll!]
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Looking Good!’ – You passed a reflective surface. Looking sharp, Sheriff! +1 Gachapon Roll!]
I force myself to keep walking, ignoring the system as best as I can. But the more I try to ignore it, the more persistent it gets.
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Step by Step’ – You’ve walked 1,000 steps! At this rate, you’ll walk all the way to Canterlot! +1 Gachapon Roll!]
I stop again, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. “Keep them coming bud, I WON'T rolling for anything. So by all means.”
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Strong-Willed’ – You still haven’t rolled! +3 Gachapon rolls!]
I grit my teeth. “How about an achievement for shutting up?”
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Talking Back’ – You sassed the system! +1 Gachapon roll!]
“Okay, that’s it,” I mutter to myself. “I’m gonna find a way to turn you off if it’s the last thing I do.”
The notifications don’t stop. They just keep piling up, one after the other, until I feel like I’m drowning in them. Every little thing I do—every twitch, every breath, every movement—it’s all being tracked and rewarded with more achievements, more rolls, more noise.
I keep walking, forcing myself to focus on something—anything—other than the constant barrage of notifications. Maybe if I just ignore it long enough, it’ll get bored and go away.
But then, another notification pops up.
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘You know how to stop this, admit Isekais are the best! +1 Gachapon roll]
“Never!” I reply, glaring at the screen.
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘So be it’ – You haven’t rolled yet! +1 Gachapon Roll!]
How sad has the life of a god has to be that he has to annoy a random mortal? Oh well, it doesn’t matter… I will eventually tune this out, like I did most of my college.
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Determined’ – You’re sticking to your guns! +5 Gachapon rolls!]
I slap a hoof to my face and groan loudly. “I need a drink. Preferably, something with enough caffeine to kill an elephant…”
Ignoring the notifications as best as I can, I turn and head in the direction of the nearest bar, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I can drown my frustration in a cup of coffee.
But even as I walk away, the system isn’t done with me yet.
Ding!
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Seeking Caffeine’ – You’re on your way to get coffee! +1 Gachapon roll!]
I sigh, muttering under my breath as I keep walking. “This town is going to drive me insane.”
[Achievement unlocked: ‘Ok, you win for now, I ran out of ideas for stupid achievements, but I’ll be back!’ +1 Gachapon roll!]
Did... did he just steal the entire Genshin Impact system?
Ok I really need to drink some coffee, I can't deal with this right now.
The coffee shop is... cozy, and filled with the usual crowd of cheerful ponies who seem like they’ve never had a bad day in their whole lives. Meanwhile, I’m sitting in the darkest most brooding corner of this place, clutching my sixth... no, seventh? Cup of coffee like it’s the only thing keeping me alive. Because right now, it might very well be!
Turns out, no matter the world... coffee was life.
“Another one,” I mumble, sliding the empty mug across the table toward the barista.
The mare behind the counter, bright and bubbly, as every one here is, of course, raises an eyebrow. “Uh, Sheriff, don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough.”
She gives me a hesitant nod, disappearing behind the counter to make me another cup. I lean back in my chair, feeling the caffeine buzz already rattling through my brain like a jackhammer. My heart’s racing, my hooves are tapping uncontrollably, and I’m pretty sure I can see sounds now, but I don’t care. This is what I need!
A new mug is placed in front of me, and I grab it with both hooves, bringing it to my mouth like it’s holy water.
“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff,” I mutter after a long, satisfying sip.
I’m getting some stares from the other ponies with their dainty cups, sipping their little espressos like they aren’t real coffee drinkers. HA! Amateurs! I, on the other hoof, am a professional coffee drinker. I could drink these sugary, caffeinated lifelines all day!
"Are you... okay?" the barista asks, clearly worried now.
I give her a wild-eyed smile. “Never better. Just... fueling up.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but I’m already gulping down the rest of the coffee, slamming the cup down on the table like a drunk demanding another round. “More.”
“I, uh, think you might want to pace yourself...” she tries.
I shake my head vigorously. “Pacing’s for the weak.”
The jittery feeling in my hooves spreads up to my ears, but instead of stopping, I just laugh. “I could run all over this technicolor town twenty times before anyone notices me!”
The barista exchanges a look with another pony nearby, her eyes wide with concern. “Maybe some water—?”
“More coffee !” I insist, holding out the empty mug. “Come on, don't cut me off. I need my energy to... keep the town safe, yeah... let's go with that.”
She backs away slowly, mumbling something about getting another pot ready, but I don’t care. The caffeine has taken hold, and I feel... invincible. My mind’s racing a mile a minute, and for the first time since I got here, I actually feel like I’m in control.
Author's Note
How many rolls does our protagonist has thus far? And should he roll for the banner?
It’s been a week since I woke up in this technicolor fever dream, and honestly, I’m starting to settle in. Kind of. Sure, I’m still a pony, and I’ve still got hooves instead of hands, but at least I’ve learned how to walk without tripping over myself every five steps. Small victories, right?
By now, I’ve come to accept that weirdness is the default setting here. Hell… if the moon suddenly started singing karaoke tomorrow, I’d probably shrug, yawn, and go back to figuring out how to brew coffee without hands. That’s the level of numbness we’re talking about.
Which brings me to today’s exciting activity: reading. With the petty God finally leaving me alone, probably sulking somewhere because I refuse to roll for anything, I could actually focus on figuring out a few things, like what my job as sheriff entails. Spoiler: no one’s told me. I’ve been winging it this entire week, and so far, it seems to be working. But if I’m going to keep up the illusion of knowing what I’m doing in order to get a paycheck, I should probably read up.
Sighing, I unlock the library door, stepping into the familiar cloud of dust and cobwebs. Like always, the place smells like an attic, with an undertone of tree.
“Alright then,” I mutter, brushing off the nearest table and dumping my saddlebags onto it. Yeah, I have saddlebags now. They’re weird, but they get the job done.
I head over to the shelves, scanning the titles for anything that looks remotely helpful. Most of the books are about magic, which isn’t exactly useful to me or for most of the population of this town, considering most are earth ponies or pegasi. But after a few minutes, I manage to find a small section on law enforcement. Finally, something relevant.
Grabbing a few books, I lug them back to the table and sit down. The first one is titled “The Sheriff’s Guide to Equestria, First Edition,” —a real page-turner, I’m sure, quite convenient at that. It’s honestly surprising how specific books can be in this world.
As I crack it open, it doesn’t take long to figure out that this job is about as exciting as it sounds. The book mostly talks about patrolling, resolving disputes, and making sure ponies don’t panic over minor inconveniences, emphasis in minor. Basically, I’m a glorified babysitter.
“Yep, that tracks,” I mutter, flipping through the pages.
The book even has a section on how to handle “Minor magical mishaps.” Examples include: “A unicorn accidentally summoning a swarm of frogs” or “a runaway weather cloud causing localized rain.”
Once I’ve skimmed enough to get the gist, I push the sheriff book aside and move on to something more interesting. My next pick is “Festivals and Traditions of Equestria” , because if there’s one thing these ponies love, it’s celebrating stuff. And I need to know when to sleep with a gun, in case the pink one decides to mess up with me, again.
The first chapter is about something called “Hearth’s Warming Eve.” And from what I can see, it’s their version of Christmas, complete with decorations, songs, and gifts. Though the story behind it is completely different to the origin of Christmas back on earth, here involves three pony tribes coming together to stop some magical freeze caused by creatures called Windigos.
“So, Christmas with a side of magical ice demons,” I mumble, flipping the page. “Surprisingly dark… who would’ve thought.”
Certainly not me, I can’t imagine these ponies fighting any kind of demon… or anything for that matter. On that note, I wonder if these Windigos are anything like the Wendigos of Algonquian folklore…
Anyways, that perturbing thought aside, the description of this holiday is... very familiar to Christmas, like… copyrightable level. Families gathering around a hearth, exchanging gifts, singing carols. It’s all very Hallmark movie, but with ponies. Honestly, it sounds kind of nice—assuming I don’t get roped into some big musical number.
The next chapter is about something called “Nightmare Night,” which immediately grabs my attention. Turns out, it’s basically Halloween. Ponies dress up in costumes, go door-to-door for candy, and tell scary stories about some ancient villain called Nightmare Moon.
Not a bad name for a villain, I would’ve expected something like Evil Fluff, but once again, this world surprises me, pleasantly at that.
I skim through the details, chuckling at some of the traditions. Kids leave candy as an offering to Nightmare Moon so she won’t “gobble them up.” Sounds like someone took Halloween and decided to add a cannibalistic princess.
“Well, at least they’ve got one good holiday,” I say, flipping the page.
I keep reading, hoping for more parallels to Earth holidays. The book doesn’t disappoint. There’s a section on “Hearts and Hooves Day,” which is basically Valentine’s Day with extra sugar and rainbows. Couples exchange gifts, confess feelings, and—oh, great—it’s also a big deal for herds.
I close the book with a loud thud, staring at the ceiling. “Why does everything here have to come back to that?” I had the bad feeling the herd thing would affect me… eventually.
Rubbing my temple, I pick up the book again and flip past the mushy stuff. The next chapter is about something called “The Running of the Leaves.” From what I can tell, it’s a marathon where ponies run through the forest to knock leaves off the trees for autumn. Sounds like an excuse to make exercise and free labor look fun. Pass.
Then there’s “Winter Wrap-Up,” where ponies manually transition the seasons without magic. Pegasi clear the clouds, earth ponies plant crops, and unicorns... apparently just stand there because magic isn’t allowed, for… some reason.
“Great,” I mutter, shutting the book. “Two holidays dedicated to free labor.”
Leaving the library, I let out a long, tired sigh. Between the dust, the cobwebs, and the information overload about this strange world, I feel like I’ve aged five years in the past hour. All I want now is to go home, maybe drink some delicious coffee, and collapse onto something soft.
As expected the streets are as cheerful as ever, with ponies going about their business with the kind of energy that makes me wonder if they’re all secretly chugging liquid happiness…. Hmm, maybe it’s drugs. Anyway, after a few minutes of walking I’m halfway to my house when suddenly, something colorful slams down in front of me, kicking up a cloud of dust and making me rear back in surprise.
When the dust clears, there’s a cyan pony standing there, her multicolored mane practically glowing in the sunlight. She’s grinning at me like she’s just scored a touchdown, her chest puffed out like she’s expecting applause.
“.....Okay,” I mumble, squinting at her. “Can I help you?”
“Hold on a sec, Sheriff!” she says, holding up a hoof. “You’re looking at the one and only Rainbow Dash! Fastest flyer in Equestria, future Wonderbolt, and all-around most awesome pony ever!”
I blink at her, unimpressed. “Congratulations?”
She frowns slightly, clearly not getting the reaction she was hoping for, but she shakes it off. “Anyway, I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Sheriff Jax.”
“Oh, good,” I say, sighing. “I was worried my day wouldn’t be complete without something stupid happening, so please, do go on.”
She glares at me, completely ignoring my sarcasm. “You stole my number one fan!”
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”
“Scoots!” she says, throwing her hooves in the air for emphasis. “Scootaloo! My biggest fan! She’s been following you around all week instead of hanging out with me.”
It takes me a second to put the pieces together. “Oh. Tiny orange. Yeah, you can have her back. Do you have a return label? Or you just pick her up and we're good?”
Rainbow’s mouth opens, but then she stops, narrowing her eyes at me. “You think you’re so cool, don’t you? Strutting around town like you’re hot stuff just because you’re the sheriff.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely what I’ve been doing,” I say flatly, brushing past her. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”
“Not so fast!” she says, darting in front of me again. “I challenge you to a race!”
I stop dead, realizing something… this one was going to make my night difficult. “A... what?”
“A race!” she repeats, grinning like a kid who just found out they get to skip school. “Whoever wins is officially the most awesome pony in Ponyville—and gets Scoots!”
I blink at her. “Wait, so you’re racing me... for custody of a child? Is… is that even legal?”
She waves a hoof dismissively. “It’s not like that! It’s about proving who’s cooler.”
“Right. That makes it so much better,” I mutter, rubbing my temple. “Look, Rainbow... Dash, was it? I don’t care who the coolest pony is, and I definitely don’t want custody of Scootaloo. So… go advertise Skittles somewhere else, taste the Rainbow and all.”
“Too bad!” she says, pointing a hoof at me dramatically. “You’re already in this and I won't back down from a challenge!”
I sigh, feeling my patience slipping away. I could argue with her all day, or try the same solution I did with the cat but something tells me that’d only make her more determined. So instead, I decide to take a different approach.
“Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Let’s race.”
Her grin widens. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
“But,” I add, holding up a hoof, “we’re doing it my way.”
She narrows her eyes. “Your way?”
“Yup,” I say, smirking. “We’re having a blindfolded race. To the top of that mountain.” I point to a distant peak, easily miles away. “And we can only use two hooves to move. No wings, no magic, just good old-fashioned balance and determination.”
Rainbow stares at me, her grin faltering for a moment. “Wait, what?”
“You heard me,” I say, keeping my expression serious. “Blindfolded. Two hooves. First one to the top wins. Or are you backing out, skittles?”
Her competitive side flares up immediately. “Backing out?! Ha! As if! I’ll beat you no matter what the rules are!”
“Delightful,” I say, clapping my hooves together. “Let’s get started.”
She pulls a blindfold out of... somewhere—I don’t even want to know—and ties it over her eyes. Then she stands on her hind legs, wobbling slightly but managing to stay upright.
“Ready?” she says, her voice full of determination.
“Oh, I’m ready,” I reply. “Whenever you are.”
She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “Alright. On your mark... get set... go!”
And with that, she starts awkwardly hopping forward on two legs, her wings twitching instinctively but staying folded thanks to her iron will to win. She stumbles a few times but keeps going, determined to prove her awesomeness or something.
I watch her for a few seconds, admiring my work without a word, until eventually I turn around and head home, wondering how long it would take her to figure out she was played.
New Banner Up!
Author's Note
I made another banner because, well, in Genshin Banners come in two. So there ya go, now we can all debate what banner he should pull for.
