It had been another week since the last time the two of them met in person (and pony), and now Anon was following through on his plan to do something he never did before:

He asked her out to a chicken tendie restaurant that wasn’t Raising Cane’s.

To be fair, it wasn’t that out of the blue. Anon and Stella had already talked at length about how much they both love chicken tenders specifically, and it was only a matter of coincidence that Cane’s was the only one she’d been to. At least, so he thinks. He took enough of an effort to ask her about herself, which she was very happy to do so (and he was very happy to listen to). At the same time, in an effort to not provoke her, he refrained from asking her the most important question:

“What are you doing in this world to begin with?”

The words from the unsociable human hung in the stagnant air of the Zaxby’s like a man at the gallows. Sitting across from her at a booth at the new chicken tender restaurant they chose to meet at, her jaw dropped slightly as she did little besides stare blankly at the human, causing the goosebumps to rise up his skin again. He knew he was taking a gamble by mentioning “this world” as opposed to “this town”, “this state”, or any other descriptor to describe where he lives and where she lives, and how they’re not the same. Did he make a mistake? Did he ask the wrong question? Should he have broken the ice with a little more small talk before going into such a topic?

At the same time, her face starts to shift in discomfort, in expressions Anon had never seen from her before. She grimaces, as if thinking long and hard on what to say.

“Of course you would know I’m from another world. I promise I’ll tell you, just… please don’t freak out.”

“You know, I meant to bring this up sooner, but unicorns aren’t exactly a common sight in this world,” he says, smirking a little, as if his statement was obvious. “If seeing a literal unicorn wouldn’t freak me out, nothing will.”

“...I know that your world has nearly zero unicorns. That has to do with why I came here to begin with. Princess Celestia sent me on a mission. She believes your world holds the key to stopping the Demiurge’s corruption.”

He struggled to keep his expression neutral, but the mention of this “mission” sent his heart racing. “So, I know last week you said you were in Princess Celestia’s employ, but the mission?”

“Yes,” Stella replied, her tone calm and matter-of-fact. “The Demiurge’s influence is spreading to our realm, twisting ponies’ minds, stripping away their free will. She thought someone in your world could help us understand it.”

“Okay, first off,” Anon asked. “I’ve heard of the Demiurge, but what’s that have to do with me?”

“If you’ve heard of him, then you already know,” the unicorn responded.

“It’s not really like that, Stella,” he says, somewhat uncomfortably. “I mean, I know that in gnostic cosmology they say the Demiurge is the “jailor of souls”. Some evil god with a snake body and lion head who created the material world, but I don’t really believe in all that. If you knew the Demiurge, chances are you’re quite familiar with our world’s religions, but I’m a Roman Catholic.”

“Look around yourself,” she raises a hoof and points around the restaurant, as if to signal to Anon the clientele present. “Background dwellers, every single one of them. None of them have a drop of autonomy. They didn’t even pay attention to the fact that I’m a unicorn.”

“You know,” he thinks out loud, remembering the vast array of videos and memes he’s seen of what he would call the “NPC phenomenon”, insulting individuals (who can barely be called such) that live a pre-programmed life. “I’d believe it. I’m taking it with a very big grain of salt, but I heard that gnosticism has a concept of people they call hylics, who basically are exactly as you say. Crazy how writers in the first century predicted that… That aside,” Anon continued, shuffling his hands and adjusting himself in the seat. “You think that I’m that “someone” who can help defeat the Demiurge?”

Stella’s teal eyes studied him with an intensity that made him squirm. “Perhaps,” she said after a pause. “When I first arrived, I wasn’t sure who I was looking for. The Demiurge’s power makes this world... difficult to navigate. But then I met you.”

Anon let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You got all that from… seeing me scream and run down at Raising Cane’s?”

“I sure am glad I happened to be there at the time. Things really have a tendency to happen out of nowhere when I’m around.”

“What do you mean? Nothing ever happens.”

A faint smile crossed Stella’s lips, another hint of warmth breaking through her usual stoicism, ignoring his comment. “Also, you underestimate my abilities,” she said with a hint of pride. “Did you never stop and ask how a unicorn like me was able to make it in this world? Find food, shelter, water, anything?”

“No, to be completely honest I never did.”

“That was obvious,” she smirks at his expense. “My magic isn’t just for tricks. You have no idea how easy it is to manipulate the minds of these hylics. All it takes is one mind spell, and their possessions are mine. Mind reading, mind manipulation, all in my grasp.”

“Well geez, all the same, I’d hate to be on the receiving end of such a spell.”

“It was either that or go hungry. Regardless, you also underestimate yourself,” she said, her voice softening. “Without a great deal of added focus, the spell wouldn’t work on you. You notice things others don’t. You’re not like the rest of the... background characters in this world.”

“I’ll give it to you straight, Stella,” he raises his hands in humility, showing his vulnerability. “I’m not particularly much of anything. I live with my parents, my job is nowhere near as glamorous as yours, I don’t have any skills, and you said it yourself the day we met. I don’t even look great. You knew I was balding,” he says with a sigh, motioning to his receding hairline.

“Where do you work?”

“I’m a night shift security guard making fifteen bucks an hour to sit at a desk and do jack shit. Not the most glamorous job, but hey,” he smirks. “At least they pay me to do literally nothing.”

“And that right there is why I knew it was you. You don’t let anypony put you in a box. You’ve got will. You don’t let yourself conform to what they desire. You’re not… him.”

Anon knows exactly what she means when she raises a hoof, pointing to the cashier standing at the Zaxby’s counter, speaking with a fat, angry customer taking his order. “You know what both of them are going to do when they get home from their 9-5? They’re going to go home and buy Cheetos and MSG, watch sportsball and whatever trash is on Netflix or Disney+, drink corn syrup, masturbate and cry, and do the same thing tomorrow.”

“Just like everypony else,” she says, looking in Anon’s eyes as if to say “you get it”.

Finally, Anon let out a long sigh, deciding to rip the metaphorical bandage off. “Okay, one last thing. You’re going to think I’m crazy, but at this point anything is possible. I know about you. About Equestria. Your friends. Everything.”

She raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for him to elaborate.

“There’s this TV show in this world,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “It’s called My Little Pony. It’s... about you. Well, not you specifically, but your world. Celestia, Ponyville, everything.”

Stella’s reaction wasn’t what he expected. No wide-eyed shock, no denial or demands for proof. Instead, she simply sat back, her expression thoughtful. “Interesting,” she said at last. “So this world has knowledge of Equestria, but only in a fictional sense.”

Anon blinked, thrown by her calm demeanor. “Wait—you’re not freaking out? Most people would lose it if they found out they were characters in a cartoon.”

“Actually, I’ve heard of this before,” Stella responded calmly. “Princess Celestia was very clear in telling me about an accident we had where Rainbow Dash, one of our own ponies, was thought to be lost in your world after a spell went wrong. When they spoke to her, she said she saw this exact program and it gave her quite a stir. Suffice it to say, we proposed our own magical theories to explain the matter and have drawn convincing conclusions.”

He stared at her, struggling to reconcile her nonchalance with the monumental bombshell he’d just dropped. “Huh,” he finally said, leaning back in his seat. “That’s... surprisingly grounded. You’re handling this way better than I thought. You know, I also meant to ask, what drew an otherworldly creature like you to Raising Cane’s? I can’t imagine it’s the healthiest option out there, and I also thought ponies are all vegetarian.”

“Everypony loves comfort food a little more than is good for them,” she giggles. “Princess Twilight has a particular weakness for hayburgers.”

“Yeah, you know I didn’t think it was possible for humans to eat that stuff, literal hay. But I also didn’t know ponies ate meat.”

“Not every kind of meat,” she corrects him. “Just chicken, fish, and pork for the most part. Anyway, now that you know why I’m here, I’d better run my battle plan over with you.”

“I thought you said-”

“It’s tentative, Anon,” she says, raising a hoof up to his face in faux anger. “Subject to change. This is the most Celestia and I could come up with on short notice, and we’ll write the rest of the plan when you come with me to Equestria.”

Author's Note

I apologize for how long it took this chapter to come out, the reason for its delay was the fact that I was working on another story here on Fimfiction (linked here) as well as a handful of other stories that aren’t MLP related.

I also hate to say it, but upon major reflection and pondering on the nature of creativity, I believe whatever secret it is that the ancient storytelling masters had is unfortunately lost in our time, and this creative stifling is hitting me. Ever since artificial intelligence hit all creative communities like crack, the only solace I can take is that 1. it's not my fault and 2. it's happening to everyone. On the one hand I will not lie, meme pictures of minions with "never goon" shirts is funny, but it can get to be a little overpowering at times, especially when now there are literally "PDF to Brainrot ai generators" it gets to be a little much. Why bother creating anything at all? All I can do is hope and pray that Dostoyevsky will be vindicated when he said "Beauty will save the world", but I’m not hopeful. My outlook on the world is admittedly very cynical, and I take no issues with that.

But once again, if you got this far, thanks! I wasn’t expecting to be debating the nature of creativity here on my soapbox but I am curious as to your thoughts.