>You are anon.
>It seems you’ve been given a new chance in a new world.
>The inhabitants of this one are nice enough, but they don’t seem to approve of some of your more ingrained behaviours.
>Namely, working.
“Come on, uh…”
>”Solo Blossom”
“Come on, Ms. Blossom, I’ve tried every business from here to appleoosa. All I need is a job, I promise I can make it worth it!”
>”And I’m sorry, Mr. Anonymous, but I couldn’t have a male accountant. Do you know what the town would think of me? I’d be a laughingstock!”
>You’re beginning to panic.
>Well, of course you are; you’re so desperate you just applied to become a desk jockey.
>In some ways it’s relieving that you didn’t get the job; you’d lied about pretty much any experience you claimed to have.
>But you need a job. Celestia had been very explicit: no more bits after next week, and you weren’t about to succomb to ponyland’s crazy strong sexism and settle down with someone.
>Not to mention, though the ponies aren’t against interspecies relationships (probably has something to do with the fact that there are dozens of sapient species here), most would probably be more freaked out by your monkey-ness and predator-ness than anything.
>You had asked around about what you could do, but everyone had just told you to “find a good mare.”
>Which, being an alien of a completely different species, is pretty hard to do on top of being entirely degrading.
“Okay, okay, fine. I get it. You’re all sexist as hell, but the wrong way around. Couldn’t I be a secretary or something? Isn’t that how it works over here?”
>She seems to mull this over for a bit, eyeing you up and down.
>You can feel her eyes scour over you, evaluating every miniscule detail.
>No, not you. Just your body.
>You shiver.
>”No, I’m afraid that wouldn’t do. We have very strict… Standards for our male workers.”
>She turns away and closes the folder on her desk.
“What, you only hire pretty guys? Is it because I’m not a pony? You’re worried that people won’t have the same appreciation for a monkey that they would for a cute stallion?”
>”That’s quite enough, Anonymous. I think we’ve gone over everything, and I wish you good luck.”
>You glare at her before standing, taking some small pleasure in absolutely dwarfing her at your full height.
>You turn and leave the office, passing a couple of mares in green visors.
>Fucking old-fashioned ponies couldn’t even invent proper light bulbs yet.
>Walking down the hall, you can hear laughs from behind you.
>”Yeah, he thought he could fill the position.”
>”Hehe, silly new-age colt. Can you imagine a stallion working a serious job?”
>They both share a laugh, but you shrug them off.
>They may be prejudiced as all hell, but you had learned not to let yourself be angered by them.
>Anger only gets you frightened pones, and later, pones telling you it’s not your fault you couldn’t control your emotions because you are male.
>You don’t have anything to prove either, because they already seem accept that you’re stronger than them, and it doesn’t seem like they think you’re dumb. They just all think you’re supposed to act girly or something, which means the issue is rooted in culture.
>Arriving at the door, you yank it open, flinching at the sudden drop in temperature.
>The weather team had whipped up one hell of a storm, planning to lower temperatures in preparation for summer.
>Or whatever bullshit made sense in ponyland.
>Wind whips against your face as you step outside, slamming the door behind you.
>You pull your hood up, covering your face with the collar of your jacket as you trudge toward the bar.
>Lucky you remembered to get heavy winter clothes tailored for you earlier.
>Amid the snowstorm, you can barely see your hands in front of you, but you know your way to the bar well enough.
>Maybe that’s not a good thing, but you don’t care anymore.
>The only interview that had shown any promise today had been for a position as a store mascot.
>To add insult to injury, it was an “internship position,” otherwise known as “no bits for you” or “slave labor.”
>You still have no idea why anyone would want or need to intern as a mascot.
>Back on Earth, you had carved out a solid career and a well paying job.
>You pull your collar higher up your face, ridding yourself of thoughts of home.
>It was time to move on. Your arrival had nothing to do with magic, and spells wouldn’t get you back.
>No point in getting depressed about a past you can never return to.
>You’d just have to keep looking. You must be needed somewhere. Hell, your society was hundreds if not thousands of years more advanced than the one you’re in.
>That must count for something. Once electricity is invented, you’re gonna make the shit out of the first lightbulb.
>It couldn’t be that hard, right? Horsehair was around in plenty here, anyway.
>Amid that thought, your foot catches on something hard.
>You wave your arms about as you fall, headfirst, into the snow.
“Ah - Fuck! Fucking cold-ass…”
>You grumble as you wipe the snow out of your eyes, hauling yourself into a kneeling position and looking around you.
>Oh, hey. You’re at the bar.
>The Salty Seahorse. Ponyville’s closest thing to a hole-in-the-wall pub.
>Checking your watch, you make sure you’re on time before opening the door and stepping in.
>Warm air overtakes you as you loosen your face-mask-collar thing.
>Ponies look up to you from their tables, watching as snow and ice fall off of you and onto the floor.
>The bartender grumbles something about damned dirty apes before smiling and pointing you toward the end of the bar.
>You were on good terms with him. Probably has something to do with the fact that you have, on multiple occasions, accidentally caused massive drinking contests that neither could you lose, nor could your opponent(s) give up on for fear of being beaten by a stallion.
>”Hey! Anon! Stop standing there and get your furless butt over here!”
>You look up to see Rainbow waving at you.
>Realizing that she was what the bartender had been pointing towards, you give him a nod before making your way over to the blue pegasus.
>Taking a seat beside her, you turn toward the bar and order a whiskey.
>You know it won’t do anything, but the taste kind of reminded you of alcohol back home.
>You’re knocked out of this reverie by a hoof to the back.
>”Anon! Come on, colt, get yourself together. How did things go?”
>Rainbow flashes you a smile, leaning toward you.
>You sigh before telling her about your failures.
>You share a chuckle about the mascot internship.
>She gives you a pat on the back, taking a sip of her beer as you take a swig of yours.
>”Cheer up. Like I said earlier, it’s not the end of the world. You’ve still got a week, right?”
>You nod, wishing you could drown yourself in whiskey.
>You hang out for a while, talking and swapping stories.
>Some mare started playing the piano in the back of the bar a while ago, providing ambiance to the situation.
>”Hey anon, gimme a sec. Gotta use the little filly's room.”
>You give her a weird look before realizing what she means.
“Ah, okay. I’ll hold your place down for ya.”
>Dash gets up and waddles off while you turn back to your drink.
>Amid your semi-depressed sipping, you hear snippets of a conversation taking place behind you and to your right.
>The voices sounded male.
>Odd to hear two of them talk together alone at a bar...
>You angle your ear towards them, continuing to survey your drink.
>”And that’s when I told her, ‘I’m still gay ma’am.’ And she just walks away and flashes me.”
>”Wow. Honestly, with the shit we deal with, I can’t believe ponies are still even trying. You’d think they’d’ve learned by now not to mess with the guard.”
>”Idunno man, they still got by. I mean, they had to get a princess and everything, but in the end we didn’t do anything.”
>You’ve heard enough.
>It wasn’t an amazingly confidence-inspiring conversation, but it was more than you needed.
>You wonder why you hadn’t thought of it before.
>You’re several times stronger than most ponies, your hands are extremely dexterous and allow for excellent tool manipulation, and you’re by far the largest species you’ve seen since you got here other than minotaurs and griffins.
>But fuck those guys. You’ve got brains too, and knowledge of much more modern tactics.
>The only thing that’s been holding you back all this time has been your gender.
>But for whatever reason, the guard was all male. Why hadn’t you thought of this before?
>You stand up, walking calmly to the guard-stallions’ booth.
>They notice you approaching, and nervously start to tense up.
“I heard a bit of what you were talking about. You two are guards?”
>The larger of the two, a brown coated stallion with a spear cutie mark, turns toward you.
>”That’s right. What’s it to ya?”
>They’re oddly masculine. Which is strange that it’s odd, seeing as they’re male.
>They’re probably a gay couple.
>You guess dykes in this world are male.
“I was wondering if you thought… Maybe… I’d be able to get into the ranks?”
>The smaller one turns toward you, confusion playing out on his grey coated face.
“Well, I’ve been having… Trouble, getting a job. And I think with my stature, I could make a worthwhile addition to the guards.”
>They look you over, before giving each other a glance.
>”I dunno, um… What are you again?”
“I’m a human.”
>”I dunno, hyue… Hyuman… I dunno, are you willing to put in the work? To train with the best? To guard important places and ponies with nothing less than your life?”
>Woah. That got surprisingly hardcore really fast.
>But you need this.
“Absolutely. I am, after all, part of a predator species.”
>You flash them a smile, hoping your canines will impress them.
>”We’ll see about that. If you’re serious, visit the Ponyville recruitment center. If not, stop wasting your time and ours.”
>Damn, these guys are serious about their masculinity. You guess that’s probably what happens when you have a community as anti-gay (they’re fine with lesbians for whatever reason) as this one, and a job that requires you to protect them.
>But they thought you had a chance.
>That’s more than enough.
>You smile, thank them, and walk back to your place at the bar.
>Dash has been sitting there, watching you.
>”Who were those colts?”
“Guards. I think I might try and see if I can’t get recruited.”
>Rainbow stifles a giggle, tapping the bar.
>”Y.. Heh, you’re gonna be part of the guard? You sure you wanna do that, big guy?”
“Yeah, why not? I’m a hell of a lot stronger than any of you guys. You don’t think I can do it?”
>”No, no, I know you can do it. I was asking if you were sure you wanted to.”
>You give her a confused look, before nodding.
“I don’t know what sort of catch you’re implying there is, but I need the bits and the work.”
>She punches your arm and chuckles. “Alright Anon, if you’re sure. Hey, let’s play some darts, huh?”
>Fuck yes. You always won darts.
>Not just because of your magic hands and inability to get drunk.
>You’re just really good.
>Or, so you say to yourself.
>After a long night of darts and drinks, you wish Rainbow a goodbye and leave for your home.
>Tomorrow, you’re gonna enlist, and hopefully this whole job search will be over.