The therapist was reviewing my files with his usual, exasperating calm.
He was a dark brown stallion with a black mane, half-moon glasses, and a tie. Everything about his appearance screamed "boring professional." But as he flipped through my records, my eyes inevitably landed on his Cutie Mark: a magnifying glass next to a brain. Destined to be a therapist, I guess.
That irritated me. Not because of what his Cutie Mark represented, but because of the damn concept behind them.
Cutie Mark? Who came up with the brilliant idea of calling something so life-defining that? Worse yet, who was the genius who made it official? Something that defines your purpose shouldn’t sound like a foal’s toy. Why not something more dignified, like "Mark of Destiny" or just "Mark"? But no, of course not, they had to make it cute.
My musings were interrupted when the therapist finally set the documents aside—slowly, of course. He closed his eyes with a sigh before looking at me.
"Sweet Flower..."
"Thomas," I cut him off immediately.
Clearing his throat after my correction, he said, "Thomas, right. We really should address your issue with names at some point."
I snorted, waving my hoof dismissively. "Come on, we've been at this for years. Don’t pretend you forget. Same old story, just turn the page."
He clasped his hooves in front of him, the way he always did before saying something “profound.”
"I just finished reading your latest records. About the... recent incident."
“Pfff” I blurted out, downplaying it.
Adjusting his glasses, he gave me a serious look. "Thomas, we've worked together for three years. Ever since you were assigned to me by law after your... well, your incidents. And while we’ve had weekly sessions, this last altercation far exceeds the others."
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "What are you talking about?"
"Would you like to talk about what happened? About the explosion?"
I rolled my eyes. "Explosion is an exaggeration, as usual. It was just a series of unfortunate events. That’s all."
"Thomas," he said, rubbing his temple with a hoof. "There were foals."
"And animals. And disabled ponies. And elderly ponies. But it wasn’t my fault, so why should I care?" I raised a hoof to emphasize my point. "I mean, why try to pin the blame on me for something I didn’t cause? It’s absurd."
"Let’s say I believe you," he said, pausing for effect. "Even so, you could have handled the situation differently. A different attitude could have avoided the disaster."
Throwing my hooves in the air, I groaned. "Here we go again. The attitude."
"Yes, Thomas. The attitude. It’s your greatest weakness and the root of all your problems."
Crossing my hooves, I watched him as he launched into his usual monologue.
"Every altercation you’ve had, every unfortunate encounter, could have been avoided with a different approach. And if you need a reminder, one of those incidents is the reason you’re here in the first place."
He flipped through his notes.
"For example, when your neighbor kindly greeted you, and you yelled at her, quote: 'Why don’t you take care of your damn dog so it stops crapping in my yard, you old witch.' Remember that?"
"The problem was clearly hers," I replied coldly. "What kind of pony lets their dog do that? She’s lucky I didn’t do something worse... to the dog or her."
Ignoring my comment, he continued.
"Another example: when a pony accidentally cut in front of you in line, you threatened to, quote: 'shove his rear end into his mouth so he could show it to his mother.'"
"Exaggerated threats usually work."
"And what about the poor filly scout in the marketplace?" He raised an eyebrow. "You spent two hours aggressively explaining why her sales strategy was terribly structured until she broke down crying."
"Come on, she deserved it. She was giving out whole cookies as free samples. Whole! Who does that? She didn’t even have a limit per pony. I was helping her improve her business."
The therapist rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh.
"Thomas, you understand what I’m saying. Your attitude is the common denominator in all these situations. I can’t perform miracles, but if you’d just try to approach things with less hostility, you’d be surprised at the results."
I looked at him with skepticism so intense it was practically palpable.
"Sure, doctor. Because attitude fixes everything."
He didn’t respond, but the silence said it all.
Finally, he sighed. "It’s a shame, but this will be our last session together. Though, of course, it doesn’t have to be the last, Thomas. There’s still much to address. You’re always welcome to continue if you’d like."
I stood up from the couch, rolling my eyes. "Continue therapy now that I’m finally free of these mandatory sessions? Not a chance."
"What do you plan to do next?"
"I’m moving somewhere else tomorrow," I replied nonchalantly.
The therapist tapped his chin with a hoof, as if analyzing some incredibly profound revelation. "That’s... surprisingly convenient, Thomas. Before you go, let me say one more thing."
I headed toward the door, fully prepared to ignore whatever it was.
"Please, Thomas, at least take this as advice from a friend."
I scoffed but stopped, glancing over my shoulder. "Go ahead, surprise me."
"This is your chance," he said with an almost touching seriousness, "not just to live in a new place where no one knows you, but to start fresh. A clean slate. You could try approaching things differently, with a more positive attitude. Even if it's just superficial."
I couldn't help but let out a dry laugh. "A positive attitude? That's it? Wow, Doc. Life-changing advice."
He sighed, clearly resigned. "Thomas, when you're in a tight spot, just remember one of our sessions. You might be surprised at the results with a different attitude."
"I'll think about it. Happy now?" With that, I walked out the door. But just before leaving completely, I poked my head back in one last time.
"By the way, it’s still ridiculous that your name is Therapist, and you’re a therapist. It’s like destiny has a terrible sense of humor."
The sun was warm on my white coat, and the breeze gently tousled my blond mane as I pushed a wheelbarrow loaded with moving boxes.
After "the incident," it was too much. My patience had hit its limit, and thankfully, I’d saved enough to move to a quieter place. According to the doctor, a change of scenery would help with my "dangerous buildup of stress."
And what better place for peace and quiet than a little rural town called... Ponyville?
I frowned just thinking about it.
"Ponyville." What a ridiculous name. Then again, to be fair, all the names in Equestria are absurd.
Who’s in charge of naming these places anyway? Why does everything have to be a pun or pony-related? Is it really so hard to use a bit of imagination?
I snorted. No point dwelling on it.
Ridiculous name aside, the place met my main requirement: far away from the hustle and bustle of Canterlot. For an earth pony like me, dealing with flying objects constantly is a nonstop source of stress.
I stopped a few meters from the town’s entrance and sighed.
This was my fresh start. No one knew me, and I didn’t know anyone. And honestly, I preferred to keep it that way.
Dealing with people is exhausting. You say hello to someone once, and suddenly, you’re stuck in an endless cycle of greetings, awkward small talk, and social expectations. It’s like signing a lifelong contract.
And that’s just one problem.
I narrowed my eyes as I thought about other ponies. How do I put it? They’re... saccharine.
Always with their talk about friendship, kindness, and other sappy nonsense. It’s like they’re competing to see who can be the most ridiculous. And the worst part? They’re serious about it. They give speeches at the end of the day about how great it is to have friends! Who does that?
And they have a special knack for blowing everything out of proportion. A foal pushes another, and suddenly it’s a national drama worthy of a royal tribunal. "Oh no, what a horrible act!" they say, while giving moralizing sermons like they’re Celestia herself.
I sighed again, deeper this time.
And, of course, don’t get me started on their personalities. Everyone is like a caricature, as if they walked straight out of an absurd play. There’s no middle ground; everything is extreme.
I pushed the wheelbarrow forward and kept walking toward Ponyville.
Yes, this was a new start. But I had no intention of doing things differently. At least, not more than absolutely necessary.
I glanced around.
Wooden houses with thatched roofs, a rural aesthetic so quaint it looked like it belonged in a historical painting. Well, at least the pictures they sent me about the town weren’t lying.
I pulled a piece of paper from the wheelbarrow and quickly checked it.
“Margarita Street, number 7,” I murmured to myself.
I looked up, trying to get my bearings. That’s when two huge blue eyes planted themselves right in front of my face.
I jumped back, nearly tripping over the wheelbarrow.
"I’ve never seen you around here before! And I know everyone, so you must be new!"
It was a pink earth pony with a mane so puffy and vibrant it looked like cotton candy. She was grinning from ear to ear, radiating an energy that made me instantly regret ever leaving Canterlot.
"I’m Pinkie Pie! Nice to meet you!" she said, grabbing my hoof between hers and shaking it as if trying to extract my soul.
When she finally let go, I had to take a deep breath to steady myself.
I stared at her, squinting. What kind of pony just jumps on a stranger like that? Can’t you just wave from a reasonable distance and go about your day? No, of course not. That would be too much to ask.
"And what’s your name?" she asked, tilting her head like a curious puppy.
"Thomas," I replied flatly, fixing her with a glare sharp enough to drive the hint home.
Naturally, she didn’t take it.
"Thomas? That’s such a weird name for a pony. Are you from outside Equestria? I’ve never heard a name like that before. And I know all the names in Ponyville!"
“I’m from Canterlot,” I said, hoping that would end the conversation.
But no. She leaned forward, as if she’d uncovered some grand secret.
“Ohhh, Canterlot! They say everything there is so fancy and sophisticated. Here in Ponyville, we may not have that kind of glamour, but we’re all super friendly. You’ll see, Thomas, in no time, you’ll have a ton of friends!”
And she went on. And on. Word after word, sentence after sentence, her endless chatter turned into a hammer pounding away at my patience.
This. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid.
Ponies like her are the reason I prefer to keep my distance. What’s so wrong with a little silence? Is that too much to ask? And that personality… is it possible to overdose on enthusiasm? Because if it is, I’m looking at a clinical case.
I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm as she kept talking. If she didn’t stop soon, I was going to explode.
Can’t she read the room? Can’t she tell I’m beyond uncomfortable and clearly don’t want to be here? How dense can one pony be?
Finally, I felt my patience snap. My lips pressed into a thin line, and before I knew it, I exploded.
“WILL YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH ALREADY?!”
My shout boomed like thunder through the town, leaving everypony in an awkward, absolute silence. Even the birds seemed to freeze midair.
Pinkie Pie stood still, her ears flat and her eyes wide. For the first time, she was quiet.
“You’re annoying. A pain in the flank,” I continued, unloading all the frustration I’d been bottling up. “If you want answers to your questions, leave some space between them so the other pony can actually respond. Does that sound logical to you? Because honestly, it seems like you think you’re in some kind of monologue where everyone else is just background props. And that, dear Pinkie, is ironic considering how much you insist on connecting with others.”
Silence.
The only sound in the air was my heavy breathing. Everypony in town was staring at me, a mix of surprise and disapproval on their faces.
Pinkie Pie, still crouched, lowered her head. Her eyes started filling with tears that soon rolled down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry…” she mumbled through sobs, her voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. “I… I just wanted to be your friend…”
And then, without another word, she bolted.
I watched her disappear into the crowd, her shoulders slumped and her pink mane bouncing unevenly with each desperate step she took.
Suddenly, every eye in the town was on me.
“What? WHAT?!” I exclaimed, throwing my hooves in the air. “It was the truth! The harsh truth she needed to hear.”
An awkward silence hung in the air before murmurs began to ripple through the crowd like a wave. One by one, the ponies started to drift away, their frowns deep and their looks filled with judgment.
Here we go again. Once more, the same old story. This was supposed to be my fresh start, my chance to turn over a new leaf, and… it happened again.
“How bad can telling the truth really be?” I thought as I watched the murmurs spread. “It’s not that big a deal. Why does everypony get so upset? I just said what they were all thinking but were too scared to say. Does that make me the bad guy?”
Of course, sure. Because it’s never the fault of the hyperactive pony who bombarded me with questions and didn’t give me a second to breathe. No, of course not. It’s always easier to blame the grump. The one who sets boundaries.
“I hate them,” I thought bitterly, my jaw tightening and my ears pinning back.
I shook off the thought like it was an annoying puff of dust.
Because, of course, none of that had actually happened.
My eyes refocused on the present, landing on the pink pony in front of me, still rambling on and on as if she had infinite lungs and an endless supply of words.
I looked at her with a mix of disbelief and resignation. If I exploded like I had imagined just moments ago, what would happen? Well, the same as always. Everypony would peg me as the town’s grump. Things wouldn’t just get awkward between Pinkie and me—it’d spread to the rest of the town.
They’d surely blame me for the whole incident, pitying the one who cried instead of the one who had to endure her. Like always, I’d be the one treated poorly. Instead of viewing the situation with logic and rationality—where it was clearly her fault for causing the scene—everypony would act like I was the villain.
I could see it all so clearly: whispers behind my back, furtive glances, discomfort every time I left my house. And, of course, commercial problems. Because it would only be a matter of time before shopkeepers started charging me double or outright refusing to serve me.
All because I dared to be honest.
It wasn’t hard to figure out. With how this pony seemed to be the life of the party and probably everypony’s best friend in town, making her my enemy would be like declaring social war on all of Ponyville.
I sighed, running a hoof along my chin as I gazed at her with an expression of profound exhaustion.
I could just stick to my usual pattern: be brutally honest, say what I really think, and let the chips fall where they may. But... I didn’t want that. Not this time. Not here.
The words of my therapist echoed in my mind, like an annoying mantra I couldn’t shake off: “You could try approaching things differently—with a more positive attitude. Even if it’s just on the surface.”
But this time, on this occasion, I genuinely considered it.
“Maybe…” I muttered under my breath, closing my eyes as I tried to calm myself. “Maybe it’s time to actually listen for once.”
I took a deep breath.
“Calm down, Thomas. Calm down. Positive attitude,” I repeated to myself like a mantra.
I exhaled forcefully, as if expelling all the irritation pent up in my lungs.
“This time will be different. When I count to three, I’ll embrace a more positive attitude. I’ll be kind. I’ll be the stereotypical friendly, easygoing pony they expect me to be… even if it’s just on the outside.”
“One… two… three.”
I opened my eyes slowly, feeling a faint tingle of determination.
Pinkie was still chattering away, blissfully unaware of the internal battle raging within me.
Alright, what do we have here? Cheerful, bubbly pony who loves to hop and talk.
Alright, I can do this.
“...because pink is awesome, but sometimes I think blue is nice too. Although green has its own charm, don’t you think?”
“What a coincidence!” I exclaimed with fake enthusiasm, cutting her off. “I also love those colors. But, oh, let’s not forget orange, right? It’s so vibrant, so energetic… a spectacular color! It reminds me of the sun, and who doesn’t love the sun?”
Pinkie let out a huge gasp, as if I’d just revealed the most shocking secret of the day.
“That’s so true! It’s so true! Why didn’t I think of that before? You really get me!”
I forced a wide smile and nodded energetically.
Alright, it worked. Let’s try again.
“…But the moon has its unique glow too. Oh, speaking of glow, I just love glitter and shiny things!”
“And you’re not alone! One thing I’ve always wanted to do is carry a bag of glitter everywhere I go. Sounds so practical, right? You never know when a bit of glitter might brighten up the day.”
Pinkie gasped again, this time with such intensity I thought she might pass out. “That’s exactly what I think! That’s why I always carry glitter with me.” And, as if to prove her point, she pulled a bag of glitter from… from where exactly? Honestly, I don’t want to know. With a cheerful toss, she flung the contents into the air, showering us both in a sparkling cloud.
“I know I said I wanted to be your friend, but now I feel like we could be super-mega-extra friends for real-real!”
“Of course, Pinkie. Of course.”
“I knew I’d like you from the moment I saw you!” she sang, bouncing on the spot with so much energy I briefly feared she might launch into orbit.
Internally, I wondered how long I could keep up this charade. Keep smiling, Thomas. Just go with the flow. It was all about analyzing her: Pinkie Pie was a whirlwind of energy and words. She clearly enjoyed talking far more than listening, so all I had to do was toss in the occasional affirmative comment here, a forced smile there, and mentally check out for the rest.
Simple.
Although maintaining the smile and patience was still a monumental challenge.
“I don’t want to ruin the surprise, but I hope to see you at Sugarcube Corner at seven. Don’t be early, exactly at seven! Why? I can’t say, but I’ll be waiting, Thomas!”
I forced an even wider smile and raised a hoof in a cheerful gesture. “I’ll be there! Punctual as a clock.”
She gave an extra bounce of happiness, waved a hoof in an animated goodbye, and then hopped down the street. I watched her until she disappeared from view.
Once I was sure I was alone, my smile collapsed faster than a house of cards in a tornado. I let out a long, deep sigh.
Alright. That went well. For now.
Maybe, just maybe, this whole positive attitude thing could work.
I arrived home, tired but oddly satisfied.
In front of me stood my new residence. Nothing spectacular—just another house in the town, modest and simple. Two stories, a basement, and a rooftop I’d probably never use.
I parked the cart by the door, pulled the key from one of the saddlebags, and unlocked the door with a soft click.
The interior was as expected: empty and unfurnished, except for the kitchen and the main bedroom on the second floor, where a simple bed awaited me. I did a quick tour of the house, making sure everything was in order. After that, I spent the rest of the day unpacking.
When I carried the last box from the cart, I looked at the sky. The sun was starting to set, painted in shades of orange and pink. It must be almost time. Sighing, I set the box down in the living room and closed the door behind me.
The walk to Sugarcube Corner gave me time to think.
The way my interaction with Pinkie Pie had ended kept circling in my mind. Normally, in similar situations, the pony on the other side would’ve walked away in tears or hurling curses at me in a fit of rage.
I suppose this time went well. Better, at least.
But it still bothered me.
If no one tells her anything, how is she supposed to learn? Pinkie Pie didn’t seem to realize that her overwhelming enthusiasm and lack of respect for personal boundaries were, frankly, problematic. Was everyone in this town too scared to say something, or were they just so used to her that they didn’t notice anymore?
My gaze wandered down the streets as I tried to get my bearings. Ahead of me, one building stood out from the others—and not in a subtle way.
A massive structure designed to look like a gingerbread house. Fake whipped cream decorated the roof, candy canes propped up the porch, and a cupcake-shaped sign swung cheerfully above the entrance.
This had to be Sugarcube Corner.
I sighed in resignation.
Why does everything in this world have to be so over-the-top? A bakery’s charm is already in the cakes it sells; there’s no need to make it look like an oversized dessert. Then again, given how this place works, maybe the ridiculously cheesy aesthetic is just an accepted norm.
Sometimes, I feel like I’m the only one who notices these patterns in the world.
I stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath.
“Alright, Thomas. Time to put on your best sociable pony face.”
I pushed the door open, walking in with the kind of fake enthusiasm that was quickly becoming my new specialty. Celestia, help me.
“SURPRISE!”
The deafening cheer of the crowd hit me like a thunderclap on a clear day. At least thirty—no, fifty—ponies were crammed into Sugarcube Corner, smiling so widely it was almost unsettling. What had I done to deserve this?
Above their heads, a massive, obnoxiously colorful banner unfurled, raining a bit of confetti in the process. In big, shiny letters, it read: “Welcome to Ponyville, Thomas!”
My jaw dropped, and for a moment, all I could do was stare. How does an entire community gather to celebrate a complete stranger?
Before I could process the madness, the pink pony from earlier—Pinkie Pie—bounced into view, her grin so wide it seemed to defy physics.
“This is your surprise welcome-to-town party, Thomas!” she exclaimed. “So you can become friends with everypony in Ponyville on your very first day!”
“Woah, Pinkie, I… I don’t know… I don’t know what to say. This is… wow, surprising,” I stammered, fumbling over my words just enough to sound genuine. It was a decent performance, even by my standards.
She giggled, as if my nervousness was the funniest thing she’d ever seen. “That’s why it’s a surprise party, silly! All for my new best friend! And I already want you to meet my other best friends!”
Before I could escape, she extended her hooves and shoved a white unicorn with a perfectly styled, gleaming mane toward me. This must be the walking definition of “elegance” in Equestria.
“Like her!” Pinkie chirped. “Her name’s Rarity! She loves fashion, and her dream is to go to Canterlot. And since you’re from there, I thought it’d be great for you two to meet.”
Oh, fantastic. A wannabe socialite.
Rarity looked at me with her large, dazzling eyes and a carefully crafted smile. She extended a hoof in a refined manner. “Charmed to meet you, darling. It’s such a pleasure to welcome a Canterlot pony. Just the thought of living there… oh, it’s so exquisite, isn’t it? The art, the culture, the sophistication… Ah, the very idea makes me swoon.”
I took her hoof and gave it a light shake, maintaining my false “I’m a friendly pony” smile.
“Yeah, Canterlot is… well, it’s unique. There’s a lot of art and culture, sure,” I replied, carefully choosing my words. No need to mention how much of that art is pretentious, the culture is snobbish, and most of the ponies there are insufferable.
“Oh, I knew it. Canterlot must be such an inspiring place to live. The opportunities for fashion and design…” she continued, lost in her idealized vision.
“Totally,” I added, nodding as if I really cared. “I guess if you’re into big hats and dresses covered in more gems than you can count, it’s the perfect place.”
She let out an elegant laugh, clearly delighted by my comment.
Good job, Thomas. You made a good impression without giving too much away.
Before I could revel in my small social victory, Pinkie reappeared out of nowhere and practically dragged me to my next “forced introduction.”
“Now you’ve got to meet Rainbow Dash! She’s one of the fastest ponies in all of Equestria! And one of my bestest friends!”
With a firm push, I found myself standing in front of a blue pegasus with a rainbow-colored mane. Rainbow Dash eyed me with a mix of curiosity and arrogance, as if she were deciding whether I was worth her time.
"You're the new pony?" she asked, crossing her hooves and giving me a quick once-over.
"Seems like it," I replied, trying to sound casual.
"Let me guess. Canterlot, right? Bet they don’t do much racing there, huh? Too busy sipping tea and talking about how ‘sophisticated’ they are?"
Oh, fantastic. A competitor with a superiority complex.
"Eh, something like that," I said with a shrug. "Though not everyone’s like that. Some prefer to watch the races from the comfort of their balconies."
Rainbow burst out laughing. "Ha! Maybe you’re not as boring as I thought. But I’m warning you, there’s no way you can keep up with me. I’m the fastest here—anywhere, really."
"Sure you are," I said, forcing a smile and nodding. You don’t pay me enough to argue about this.
Rainbow seemed satisfied with my lack of resistance and floated off, muttering something about "showing me someday."
Before I could even catch my breath, Pinkie had already pushed another pony in front of me. This time, it was an orange earth pony with a cowboy hat and a no-nonsense vibe.
"And this is Applejack! She’s a farmer and grows the most delicious apples in all of Equestria."
"Nice to meet ya," Applejack said, tipping her hat with a friendly smile. "Hope you’re feelin’ at home here in Ponyville. It’s a good place with good folks."
"Thanks, I appreciate it," I replied, trying to sound as genuine as possible.
Applejack was straightforward, which was a refreshing change after the earlier interactions. Although, to be fair, I could see a competitive spark in her eyes similar to Rainbow Dash’s—just less loud about it.
"So, what’d ya do before comin’ here?" she asked curiously.
"Oh, you know. The usual. Jobs here and there, nothing special," I said vaguely. No need to get into details or make up more than necessary.
Applejack seemed to accept my answer, though I had a feeling she wouldn’t buy it for long. Farmers seem to have a sixth sense for nonsense.
"Well, if ya ever need anythin’, ya know where to find me," she said before giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder—one so strong it nearly knocked me over.
By the time I’d finished meeting all of Pinkie Pie’s “best friends,” it felt like I’d lived an entire year in a single night.
They all dispersed, each more satisfied with our interaction than I was. At least, so far, I hadn’t caused any major social disasters.
While Pinkie continued bouncing around, chatting with other guests, I slumped into a chair and let out a deep sigh. Well done, Thomas. You survived the first wave.
I’d barely managed to relax after surviving the earlier interactions when I saw Pinkie Pie bouncing toward me again, this time with a yellow pegasus who looked like she was trying to hide behind her own pink mane. Great, more introductions. Does this ever stop?
Pinkie beamed at me. "Thomas, you’ve gotta meet Fluttershy! She’s super sweet and loves animals. I just know you two are gonna get along great!"
Fluttershy peeked up timidly, but as soon as our eyes met, she seemed to retreat half a step, like just being near me was overwhelming.
"Uh… hi," she said in a whisper so soft I had to strain to hear it even though she was only a meter away.
"Hi, Fluttershy," I replied, trying to sound as kind as possible. "It’s nice to meet you."
She nodded slowly, saying nothing more, and Pinkie jumped in as though the awkward silence didn’t exist.
"Isn’t she the best? Fluttershy can take care of any animal—even the scary ones! Oh! Tell him about Harry the bear!"
Fluttershy opened her mouth to speak, but her voice came out even softer than before, like a ghostly whisper.
"He’s… very sweet."
Is that all? Come on, Thomas. You’ve got this. Say something.
"Harry the bear?" I repeated, trying to fill the gap. "A bear? Really? How do you manage something so big and, well… scary?"
Fluttershy raised her head a little more, though she still hid behind her mane.
"Oh, well… Harry’s not scary. He’s a very gentle bear. He likes back massages… and he loves honey."
"Right, of course. Who wouldn’t want a back massage?" I said, a faintly sarcastic smile creeping onto my face.
Fluttershy let out a soft giggle and lowered her gaze, but at least she seemed a bit more comfortable now. Well done, Thomas. Point for you. You didn’t terrify the shy pony.
But before I could celebrate my small social victory, Pinkie swooped in again, as if the idea of letting me rest was utterly unacceptable.
"And now it’s time to meet Twilight! And her assistant, Spike!"
Pinkie dragged me back into the center of the party, where a purple unicorn with a perfectly styled mane was flipping through a book in the middle of the chaos, seemingly oblivious to the ponies around her. Beside her, a small purple-and-green dragon was munching on a handful of gems as if they were snacks.
"Twilight, this is Thomas! He’s from Canterlot, just like you!" Pinkie announced enthusiastically.
Twilight looked up from her book and gave me an analytical look, as if she were trying to solve a complicated puzzle.
"From Canterlot?" she repeated, closing her book and stepping closer. "How fascinating! Are you a student at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns?"
Ah, yes, the famous Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. If you didn’t attend it, did you even live in Canterlot?
"Uh… not exactly," I replied with a tense smile, gesturing at my lack of a horn since I was an earth pony.
Twilight looked slightly embarrassed for not noticing but quickly covered it with a polite smile. "Well, not everyone has to be a magic student, of course. Canterlot has so much more to offer. What did you do before coming here?"
Oh, great. Another question about my life. What now?
"A little bit of everything, really," I said vaguely. "Helping here and there, nothing too exciting."
Twilight hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to press further, but before she could, the small dragon beside her jumped in.
"So, what do you think of Ponyville so far?" Spike asked, giving me a friendly smile while chomping on a gemstone like it was a carrot.
"I can’t say I was expecting such a… loud welcome," I said honestly, glancing around. "But it seems like an… interesting place."
"Oh, it definitely is!" Spike exclaimed. "It’s not as fancy as Canterlot, but it’s way more welcoming. And with Pinkie around, you’ll never get bored."
"I'm starting to notice," I muttered, shooting a glance at Pinkie, who was juggling cupcakes across the room.
Spike chuckled. "You’ll get used to it. By the way, I’m Spike, Twilight’s number-one assistant. Ever seen a dragon before?"
I looked him up and down. Honestly, I wasn’t that surprised. Considering how strange Equestria is—and how no one seems to notice—seeing a baby dragon was among the least weird things I could imagine.
"Can’t say I have," I admitted with a shrug. "But I always imagined dragons to be… bigger and scarier."
Spike crossed his arms, giving me an indignant look, though his cheeky grin betrayed him. "Hey! I’m still growing! Give me a few years, and I’ll be as big as the real deal."
"Sure you will," I said with a teasing grin. "Let me know when you get there, okay?"
Spike laughed, clearly enjoying the banter, while Twilight watched with a pleased smile.
"Well, it seems like you’re settling in just fine," Twilight commented. "Ponyville is a special place, and I’m sure you’ll find your footing here."
Oh, sure. Between surprise parties, awkward conversations, and overenthusiastic ponies, I’ll feel right at home in no time.
"Here’s hoping," I replied with a smile that I hoped looked genuine.
Before I could even exhale, Pinkie bounced over with a tray of cupcakes, ensuring I wouldn’t get a moment of rest. But at least I’d survived another round of interactions without causing a disaster.
One day at a time, Thomas. One day at a time.
When the endless party finally came to an end, I found myself trudging toward my new home.
The forced smile I’d worn for hours was finally starting to fade, and my facial muscles silently thanked me for it. One day in, and I already felt like I’d used up my entire social quota for the month.
The sun had long since set, leaving behind a brilliant moon that bathed the landscape in a serene silver glow. Its calming light almost made me forget the chaos of the evening. I sighed in relief.
At least now I get a little peace.
As I walked, my mind kept circling back to the absurdity of the party. Why go through all that trouble for a newcomer? They could’ve just sent a fruit basket with a polite note—done and dusted. But no, here it had to be an elaborate production. The whole town involved, decorations, music, food… over-the-top didn’t even begin to describe it.
They’re just like the nobles in Canterlot, I thought with a mix of irony and exhaustion. Always finding excuses to throw a party, a gathering, or whatever else, no matter how trivial the reason.
When I finally reached my new house, something immediately caught my attention. The door was slightly ajar. I stopped in my tracks, my mind racing through the possibilities. A robbery? Another one of Pinkie’s pranks? Or something worse?
I grimaced, realizing what this probably meant. Great. This is going to be fun.
With a firm shove, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The house was dim, but it didn’t take long to notice the tall, regal figure silhouetted against the moonlight streaming through the window. I didn’t bother reacting. Instead, I walked straight to one of the moving boxes, opened it at random, and pulled out a table lamp.
With a click, the room lit up, revealing my unexpected visitor.
"Hello, Aunt Celestia," I said dryly, making it clear I wasn’t in the mood for surprises. "I wasn’t expecting company on my first day. I’d offer you something to drink, but I haven’t exactly stocked up yet."
She looked at me with a mix of concern and a touch of awkwardness, something I rarely saw on her face.
"I just wanted to make sure your first day went well, my dear Sweet Flow—"
"Thomas," I interrupted immediately, crossing my forelegs and raising an eyebrow.
"Thomas," she corrected herself with a slightly embarrassed smile. "My apologies. It’s been a long day for me as well."
"And... how was your time in Ponyville?" she continued, her tone overly casual to sound genuine. "I hope you didn’t get into any trouble, right?"
"Surprisingly well," I replied, letting a bit of sarcasm seep into my voice. "I’m trying out a more... patient approach, let’s call it. Though superficial, it seems to work. Today, I even managed to endure a welcome party all night long. A record, wouldn’t you say?"
She let out a soft gasp of surprise, as if she were genuinely impressed. "That’s wonderful! I knew you could do it. Choosing Ponyville was a great decision."
I raised an eyebrow, looking at her with disbelief. "Please, spare me the performance, Celestia. I know how you subtly like to orchestrate things so others can learn some sappy lesson about friendship or whatever. I’m not that naïve."
She chuckled softly, tilting her head with that natural elegance of hers. "You caught me."
"How wouldn’t I?" I said, letting the exhaustion seep into my voice as I slumped onto one of the moving boxes. "I’m literally the one who reviews, stamps, and resolves all sorts of issues across Equestria. When I read the report about what happened with Aunt Luna, I noticed something... peculiar. There was a classified document that likely mentioned Ponyville, and even though some words were blacked out, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots. And I’m guessing the bearers of the Elements of Harmony live in this town."
Rolling my eyes, I added, "Not to mention the less-than-subtle hint in all those brochures scattered everywhere, and how it suddenly became the hot topic of conversation among guards whenever I walked into a room. Gave me a few clues."
Celestia looked at me with a mix of pride and resignation. "As perceptive as always, nephew."
I rested a hoof on my chin, feeling the fatigue start to creep in. "To be honest, I was hoping I was wrong. I thought Ponyville would be the perfect place to get away from the ridiculous problems I had to endure in Canterlot. But apparently, this town has its fair share too."
Celestia maintained her smile, but I caught a glimmer of sadness in her eyes. "I understand this isn’t easy for you, Thomas. But Ponyville has a lot to offer—more than you can imagine. Sometimes, the simplest places hold the most valuable lessons."
I snorted, giving her a tired look. "Did you know two foreign politicians were considering going to war because they couldn’t agree on the color of a tablecloth? A tablecloth, Aunt Celestia. That was literally the topic of discussion. And now I’m here, in the rural version of Canterlot—with more energy and less logic."
She chuckled softly, leaning closer to me as if sharing a secret. "Perhaps you’ll find something here that Canterlot could never give you."
"Peace of mind?" I replied without thinking, letting the words hang in the air for a moment.
I sighed, resigned, deciding to just let the conversation run its course. At this point, why not? Better to finish this and then try to sleep.
"Anyway," I continued, "I’m already here. I guess there’s no choice but to deal with whatever comes... How’s Luna doing?" I asked, this time with genuine interest.
To my surprise, Celestia’s expression softened even more. "She’s still a bit weak, but she’s slowly regaining her strength. It will take time for her to adjust."
I nodded slowly, processing her response. "That makes sense. I suppose the best thing is to wait. Maybe next week, I’ll visit her, introduce myself properly, and make sure she’s okay. Though, to be honest, I don’t think now is the best time. A thousand years trapped on the moon, returning to a world that’s completely changed... suddenly having nephews might be too much to process, don’t you think?"
Celestia smiled approvingly, as if proud of my reasoning. "That’s a wise decision, Thomas. You’ll do her good, but in due time."
I smirked with some irony. "Sure, always in due time. Though..." I added, with a hint of sarcasm in my tone, "I hope she meets me before Blueblood ruins Cadance’s and my image with his... charms."
That earned a small laugh from her, which she tried to stifle—though not quickly enough to go unnoticed.
"Funny you should say that," she remarked, "considering you couldn’t care less about people knowing your status. Still, I hope things go well for you here. And please, try to stay out of trouble, dear nephew."
"I’ll do my best," I replied, raising an eyebrow and a hoof in a mock farewell as she made her way to the door.
With an elegant flap of her wings, Celestia rose into the night sky, leaving behind only an ethereal trail of moonlight.
"See you... I guess," I muttered more to myself than to her, closing the door once she disappeared from view.
Finally, after an exhausting day, I was about to do the one thing I had wanted since this madness began: lie down in my bed.
I had barely unpacked the basics, but the bed was ready, and that was good enough for me. I let myself collapse heavily onto the mattress, feeling the weariness take over my body. The party, the introductions, the conversation with Celestia... it had all been a test of endurance, and while I had survived, my energy was completely drained.
However, just as I was about to close my eyes, a thought crept into my mind, refusing to leave.
"Act more positively, even if only superficially."
That’s what I’d decided, wasn’t it? Try to fit in, keep up appearances, play along. At least for now. Maybe, just maybe, I could find something useful in this approach.
But the question lingered: Where would all of this lead me?
I glanced out the window, where the moon was still shining brightly, almost as if it were watching me.
"Let’s see what happens," I murmured with a sigh, finally closing my eyes.
