The story of Page Turner and her new life in Ponyville.
This is a fic about the OC Page Turner, a young Pegasus moving to Ponyville with her unicorn friend Lila Blossom. Page is a struggling author working on a book hoping the new scenery will help. How will the struggling author adapt to her new life, and why the need for a new one? i guess we shall wait and see. ;) This is a story about making connection to those around you and overcoming your past. As it progresses and more characters get added so will more mature themes and elements.
I don’t know every detail about them, but I know quite a bit. The coaches we were in were blue with a white lining. We were hauled by a small 0-4-4 locomotive. The coaches had an open interior; however, they were empty apart from me and my traveling companion.
Lila Blossom was my metaphorical sister. We are nothing alike physically. I have a dull gray coat, while she has a shining white coat, which is noticeably better taken care of than mine. I have messy, monotone purple hair, while she has two-toned pink waves in long, neat hair. I was taller and fatter, while she was almost unhealthily thin and short.
She looked up from her romance novel with her ever-so-funny resting bitch face and asked, “Why are you studying me?” She asked in a neutral, non-judgmental tone. I zoned back into the world of the living and adjusted my glasses with my wing. Yet another difference in us as she held her book in her unicorn magic. “I was trying to describe us as if this were on the first page of a book,” I said, leaning back into my seat. “I failed.”
I let a long, dramatic sigh escape my lips as I flopped my head onto the table between us.
She gently patted the top of my head with a hoof. “How did you fail the description? We aren't doing anything special.”
Her voice remained flat and level. Most found her tone and demeanor intimidating, including me for a time. However, after years of friendship, I learned Lila’s patterns and found her tone endearing, and when it drops to wild and free spirited in private, it is also quite a treat.
“My description felt overly wordy, but I can’t find a way to make it less wordy,” I said defeatedly. “Wording is very hard, one of the reasons F.T.O.L. hasn't had any new chapters.”
Thinking about my own book, as much as I love my creation, my stomach churns. Fresh Take on Life is my own adventure novel, about a prim and proper pegasus who just can't do things right.
I now sat up and looked at Lila. “Let’s hope a new home will help my creative process as well as your aspiration for mammalian medicine," I said, grinning at my own large vocabulary.
Lila let out a stressed sigh. “I am just hoping the program is good; the move has been expensive for mother and father. They could only afford to send me, so I don't even have them for support.”
I felt sorry for my friend; she’s had aspirations for veterinarian work for years but has recently lost her passion for such work. She said it was just a lack of viable methods of practice. Luckily for her, I found an advertisement for “Ponyville Animal Sanctuary.” With her having an actual means to her end and the funding of her parents, I offered to move with her, and now we are here, on a train to our new lives.
I had wanted to leave Manehattan for a few months now, and I am just glad I had someone to come with me.
Back to the matter at hoof: “I know you can do it, Lila; you are a tough bitch.” I stood up in the aisle of the carriage for dramatic effect and said, “You and I have conquered many things in the past. Trails, tribulations, temptations, and trickeries—we conquered them all.”
My antics earned a small smile from Lila as she looked thankful that the carriage was empty.
“Cast forth from the shackles of our home; we shall prosper in our new lives!” I was now yelling in a deep, dramatic masculine voice. I was using being trans for dramatic effect;this is one of the few times I don't get voice dysphoria. I tried to jump onto a table to continue my ramblings, but something caught my purple Starry Night-themed dress, and I ended up hitting the side of the table and tasting the dirty carpet on the coach floor.
Lila started laughing at me while picking me up with her magic. “Page, I don't want to take you to the hospital already.”
As she set me down, that name made me grin. Page Turner, It was new and flashy, a name I chose to go alongside my new pronouns. Lila has been with me through my gender transition from the start, and I owe her a lot of my gender euphoria. As well as most of my gender envy. The night sky-themed dress that I wear was picked out by her during a trip to Canterlot.
“I am too amazing to be hospitalized, so I'll concede,” I said with more mock egotism. “Don’t do that; you're already conceded enough,” Lila said, returning to her novel.
The ride continued in silence for a while longer. I was losing myself in thought when Lila spoke up, “Page, are you doing alright?”
The question caught me off guard: “What do you mean?” I asked back, and I have been fine. I am usually fine.
"Page, you were so quick to leave home; are you still?” She paused and rerouted her sentence. “Are you thinking this through?”
That's an odd thing to ask someone, “Really showing your faith in me now; of course I thought about this.” I had thought about it; I just needed a day to decide to move away. I just think fast.
“I am not doubting you; I just want to make sure you are for sure. I love you.” She said, looking at me with what I assume to be concern or pity in her eyes.
“I love you, too. Sorry for getting defensive,” I said, looking at the rolling midlands of Equestria.
To outsiders, the three words ‘I love you’ may seem odd, but it's a platonic saying between us. The words have been so romanticized that we sometimes forget platonic love, so we say them to remind ourselves that we are not alone.
“The train should be reaching Ponyville soon; are you nervous?” I asked, looking back at Lila, who was putting her book away.
“Very much so; I have to meet Fluttershy by noon, half an hour after arrival.” Lila’s voice cracked slightly from its normal monotone to a more worried sound. Her face mirrored her voice.
“I’ll go with you! Hype you up, or just be emotional support. After that, we go celebrate at a bakery or something of the sort,” I said to Lila, feeling the train slow beneath me.
Looking out the window, I could see the thatched roofs of Ponvillle, along with many more odd buildings. The crystal castle stands out as the most out of place.
We stood as the train stopped at the station and the guard walked through, collecting our tickets.
I looked at my sister, one of spirit and not blood, and said with a grin, “Ready for a new normal?”
The country smells odd. The lack of city smog is the first thing you notice. The small village of Ponyville had the smell of dirt and sugar in the wind. The next thing you notice is how silent the countryside is. The station was a lot quieter than the one back in Manehattan. No hustle and bustle of the city and the railyard of the big station. The station had one track next to one platform, with a singular line for goods traffic. The last thing I noticed was the lack of a crowd. The station had a ticket master, a porter, and five other passengers boarding and unboarding; that was it.
Lila and I stepped off the train, the porter unloading our bags. With four suitcases between us, we then realized how fun this would be. Lila carried both of hers in her magic while opting to pull them under my wings. She would need her magic to help with Fluttershy and the animals.
“We should probably find our rental; are we talking studio or multi-room?” I asked, struggling with the luggage wheels on dirt roads. Some citizens of my new home looked concerned, but I kept a brave face.
“Father said it was basically four rooms. A room for each of us, a general room, and a rest—Page duck!” she shouted, however, a little too late.
I felt an object, and a pony hit me in the side, sending me to the side of the road. Lucky for me, they hit my suitcase and not my body directly. It still hurt like hell, however, and my wing was the only casualty.
“Scootaloo, you just hit a lady!” A little girl with a squeaky voice said.
"Ma'am, are you okay!?” A southern child said above me: My face being in the dirt meant I did not see the source of the voice.
I of course articulated a perfectly rational and reasonable response: “Where's the leak, ma'am...?” Perfectly irrational because of the pain.
I heard a larger set of hooves walk over and say, "Ma'am, are you alright? I'm a might sorry, my sister and her buddies gotta ya’.
Before I could respond, I felt magic pull me up. Lila’s magical pull was familiar and welcomed. As I got reoriented with the world around me, I saw four figures. Three of them were fillies no older than thirteen each. One little girl had a white coat with a light purple two-tone mane that's curled slightly at the ends; another was yellow with a red poofy mane and a bow larger than any archery bow in her hair. The last little girl caught my attention due to her undersized wings for her age. I think it’s rude to stare, but as a fellow pegasus, the orange and purple filly was disconcerting. The idea of lacking flight was such an abstract thought for me that I sometimes forget Lila could not fly. I mean, call me stupid, but if you have something your entire life to the point of second nature, you forget it when others don’t have it. I guess an inverse example would be eyes. I wear very thick glasses due to my eyes not developing right, but to me the blur is normal, and I don’t fully understand how bad my eyes are, as they are all I know.
Recentering my thoughts, I turned to look at the adult mare, with an orange freckled coat; she was maybe twenty-ish years my senior with a blonde mane. Her green eyes were warm and concerned, as was her face. Her soft look of worry for my safety was contrasted by her muscle to rival the gym bucks of Manehattan. Her hoof was over her chest, with her stetson hat between them.
Now, with the magic fading and my hooves on the ground, I smiled apologetically.
“Yes, ma’am. I am fine; I am so sorry for not paying attention to my surroundings,” I said, breaking my momentary eye contact by looking over my hooves. Out of my peripheral, I saw Lila looking at me, also concerned; I just fell. I am not going to die; these ponies are worry warts.
“Ma’am, pardon me saying so,” she said in a polite yet firm tone. “I believe my sister and her friends owe you the apology; those speeds in this town was a very irresponsible move.”
I was now growing increasingly uncomfortable. Just let me take responsibility and move on; it is not a big deal. “Ma’am, I am fine; no one got hurt. Let’s just let it be.”
She looked at me for a second before her expression changed to an almost forced positive expression. The three girls had already long gone to hide from the tongue-lashing they might have received.
“Pardon my manners; my name is Applejack.” She said, reaching a hoof for a shake with us both, her positive expression being less forced.
I shook Applejack’s hoof first, saying, “My name is Page Turner; this is my friend Lila, blossom.” My friend in question was now levitating my bags as well as her own, damn. Lila did not say hello or shake the hoof; she just waved with a temporary small smile, the average Lila response.
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you folks.” She said, then paused, looking at Lila, “You would not happen to be the Lila studying under one Miss Fluttershy, would ya’?”
Lila and I looked at each other in bewilderment, then back at Applejack, “Yes, I am; do you know her?” Lila asked while I eyed how to get my luggage from her magic.
“Flutters and I are old friends; shoot, she is ranting and raving about having a student finally,” Applejack said with a smile. “What about you, Ms. Turner?” Why was she asking me? Lila was the one with a good reason: "Work, ma’am.” A cookie-cutter response—not untrue, but not the whole truth.
“What kind of work? With the harvest coming up, my farm could be a choice, given you are up and dandy,” Applejack said, making me nervous. It's an offer I can't really pass up but wish I could. Jobs don’t grow on trees, though. Well, maybe hers does. I was just hoping to breathe before I needed my first ever job.
“Once we get settled, I will give you a visit,” I said without planning on it. “I appreciate the offer.”
She looked at me like she knew I was full of cat shit. “I hope you do, ma'am.” Her expression became more pleasant again. "Well, I’ll see you fillies around; take care!
Applejack wandered off after we said our byes and continued walking as I said to Lila, “Odd lady,” and got a hum from Lila in agreement.
“Maybe I should get the farm job,” I pondered further as we strolled.
Lila spoke up from behind me in a concerned tone, “Are you sure that is such a good idea? Hicks are not usually the most accepting type, and you cannot wear the dress in the field.”
I sighed, hating the reminder that people now hate me for existing in the life I live. “It’s worth a shot; besides, isn't that one really trans-inclusive clothing brand from here? I can buy some work clothes from my savings; I’ll need to either way most likely,” I said, proud of myself for being logical.
“Just please be safe,” Lila said earnestly.
I did not respond but did nod, rolling my eyes subtly.
We arrived at our new very small house; it was near the Everfree Forest, chilling but cheap. It makes me wonder if the realtor told Lila’s parents about its proximity to the forest, and if they did know, would they really rent a house this close to the Everfree?
Currently, Lila and I have separated to hang out in our own rooms and get settled; however, she left an hour ago to meet with Fluttershy. So that left me alone in my room, setting up my typewriter and my mirror.
Aside from my bed and dresser, I had three things of note in my room. The first was a desk with my older, reliable typewriter; it was a dusty old hunk of iron, but I loved her. The second was a model train on my desk; it was one named Lode Star, and I absolutely adored it. Lastly, there was a large mirror where I talked to myself to get writing ideas. However, when I say talk to myself, I mean I pretend to talk to the protagonist of my novel, Fresh Take.
Fresh Take is an orange pegasus with orange hair in a messy bob cut. She was tall and thin, with commanding eyes and a confident look on her face. She had the fur pattern on her legs, which most people refer to as socks; however, hers were brown on the ends of her hooves. I know all this for two reasons, one being that I made her. She is a figment of my mind.
The second reason was a bit more dubious. I shall put it like this: as I looked in the mirror, I saw her staring at me from over my shoulder. Her purple eyes looked right into my orange ones. I started seeing her after I created the concept for her story, A Fresh Take on Life. After that, I started to talk to her, and this game of pretending that she was here was comforting. She talked me through things; she is the reason I moved to Ponyville. Talking to this figment of my mind was good for me; it helped me think.
“How are you doing, my dear?” She said to me in her posh pseudo-Canterlot nobility accent, “The move has been interesting so far.” Her voice was soothing and caring.
"Well, aside from the assault of preteens and their overly polite hick sisters, I am doing the same as always.” I felt just numb to the change.
"Why, my dear, aren't you glad to be away from that terrible place? The only thing everyone saw was you with pity-framed, rose-tinted glasses. That is no way to live. Here, you start with a Fresh Take. Let’s not waste it, sweetie.” She said, wrapping her own wing around me in a brief hug, that she was right. Most ponies back home saw me through the lens of pity or as something to keep around so she ‘doesn’t have another episode.’ It is frustrating because once you show even a bit of weakness, ponies see you so differently. They pretend like it is not there or hide it away. However, the stain is always on the mask.
“You are right as always, Freshie. Maybe I should send mom a postcard, though.” I said, but was cut off by Fresh. “And worry your mother like that; a poor woman needs to just forget you. You have already caused her enough pain; let's not forget the reason you needed to move.”
I was quiet and placed a hoof on my neck at the mention of that. After a moment, I said, ‘I was in a bad place then, but I left, so I left it behind. Nothing would go around my neck again; I left that behind me.”
Fresh smiled a warm smile. “Good; reinforcement is good for habits. Speaking of, I shall plan our route in case this turns sour. It would not hurt to be prepared. Now why don’t you rest?”
At that, I started to feel a wave of exhaustion. I was pretty tired. With that, I rolled over and decided to catch some sleep. Knowing I was in good company, I was taken care of.
Work is the backbone of an economy. Without it, the world would not go around. An old girlfriend said I just fell for the propaganda, but I enjoyed the idea of work. The idea of dedicating myself to a goal and seeing it through was gratifying.
I said, however, that a deep dread seeped into me as I stood outside Sweet Apple Acres at 8 a.m. The morning was chilly with a stiff breeze. I didn't sleep well after my conversation with Fresh, but I only really slept 4 hours a night. Was I constantly tired? Yes, but it's a small price for efficiency.
Walking into the farm was peaceful; the smell of dirt and mulch was heavy in the air. Instead of my dress, I wore a long black skirt and a white shirt. Causal and light, perfect for farm work, I hope.
As I walked under a white archway in the fence, I saw a huge red barn and two figures having a one-sided conversation. One of them was the familiar form of Applejack, while the one who noticed me was a red stallion with a resting bitch face to rival Lila. He gave me a long suspicious look as he cleared his throat to get Applejack's attention. She turned to me and smiled warmly.
"Well, bless me; I didn't expect you so soon. How are you doing, Page?” Applejack said, motioning me over.
"Well, this is about the only job to grow trees, so I figured, why not give it a go?” I said this as I took my spot in the social triangle.
Applejack laughed at the statement, “Glad you are in good spirits, so I can take it you're ready to get your hooves moving?”
The red chap spoke up with a voice so deep and booming it could shake the earth. “Are you sure the kid is up for it, Aj?”
Applejack sighed, “I have a plan just to hold on Big Mac; pardon my brother Page.”
“Well, I've never done farm work before, but I used to do a lot of soup kitchen volunteer work back in Manehattan, so I can learn.” I am now doubting my abilities.
Applejack grinned, and Big Mac actually smiled slightly. “That's the attitude! Anyhow, let's get formalities out of the way. Meet with Sugar Belle inside, and she'll get you officially registered. She handles all our paperwork.”
“Sounds good,” I said, sounding enthused, when in reality I knew this might hamper my chances of a job.
The purple mare, known as Sugar Belle, sat across from me in the office. She had her hair in a curled, messy bun with big reading glasses adorning her face. Her smile was bright and cheery; however, all I felt was despair and dread.
“Are you nervous?” She asked in a cheery tone while fussing over paperwork. Her tone was in stark contrast to my feelings on the matter. These questions will most likely be the end of my employment history here.
“A little, but I’d rather not faff about and waste your time, so I'm ready when you are.” I said putting on a practiced brave face, and yes, one of my greatest skills is fake confidence.
"Oh, this isn't a waste! Don’t worry about it.” She looked down at her list and then back at me. “Let's start with this: Your full name; what would that be?”
Aww, fuck, well, it’s over.
Hang up the hat.
I gotta explain gender to a cis pony, fuck.
I should just leave.
I mustered up courage for my voice. “I would prefer to be called Page Turner, but my full name is Improv Fable.”
Now all she has to do is not ask any questions about this.
“May I ask why the new name?” She said she was filling out the form; her tone was not bad, just curious.
I was quiet, and she took that moment to look at me, and it seemed like she studied me this time. I tried to come up with a response, an excuse, or to excuse myself and leave, but she spoke first.
“I think I get it now; sorry for the awkwardness.” She said it so simply that it caught me off guard.
I couldn't formulate a thought, much less a sentence, due to the mental whiplash.
“Are you okay, Page?” She said that after a second, her smile was so inviting and comforting. I felt reassured and responded.
“I am fine, ma'am. Sorry, I was just not expecting a reaction, so... well, neutral.” Now my mind was flooded if I was overanalyzing her; maybe she thought I was Cis and I was over assuming.
“It’s all dandy! Let’s continue; how about your age?” She said to keep the flow of the conversation going again.
Unfortunately, she asked the second question I dreaded. “Seventeen ma’am.”
She looked up at me. "Oh, you’re still a kid,” she said. “When is your birthday?” I found that line condescending. I am barely still a kid; what kind of thing was that to say?
“September Seventeenth, But will this affect my getting a job?” I asked her, concern creeping into my voice.
“Not necessarily just what type of work you can do; some jobs are legally age-restricted.” She said in a professional tone before dropping it, “What will most likely happen is you will be put on light work till your birthday, then you will graduate to big girl jobs.”
Her tone still irked me, but I did appreciate her honesty and openness. "Okay, that makes sense. What’s next?” I said I was eager to move on.
“Education level?” She asked, looking ready to check one box out of her few already.
"Well, I am a high school dropout.” That made her look at me with a quizzical look while she moved her hoof to sign a different box: “I wanted to join the workforce early. I am not the brightest, so I figured my body would be better for the workforce than my mind. Gotta play your strengths and all that notion.”
She seemed to think about that and made a small note: “Lastly, who is your caretaker or guardian?”
"Well, ma’am, I moved her to Ponyville on my own.” That shocked her, and I corrected her, "Well, me and my best friend, she is going to school at the animal sanctuary. We take care of each other.”
That still made her look at me with concern in her eyes; she did not hide it well. “If you are sure.” She went back to her cheery tone and persona. “I think that wraps us up. I can’t wait to have you!”
That caught me off guard: “Wait, I'm hired?!”
Sugar Belle laughed, “Eeyup, if you meet with me, it means you passed the Applejacks test. Pinkie calls it her ‘vibe check, but it really means she likes you. We here believe anyone can be a good worker if the attitude is right, and a good pony always has the right attitude.”
That made me grin like an idiot. “I am honored to be here!” “Now all you need to get is your hiring bonus!” Sugar Belle said with a cheery voice.
I got home around 3 p.m., and the gift was dragging me down. I opened the door with a groan. My saddle bags were loaded, and I just crumpled to the floor after the door closed behind me. Lila, who was lying in a similar fashion as myself but on the sofa, looked puzzled at me.
“Are you okay?” She asked, and her green eyes showed an exhaustion I felt in my core.
"Yeah, yeah, the boss lady gave me a gift. It feels more like a punishment.” I gestured to my bags as Lila picked them up in her magic, tilting them over around ten lbs of apples rolled out.
Lila looked on in bewilderment and said, “What the fuck?”
I laughed. “You are so fucking real for that; like, what am I supposed to do with this?”
After we both giggled at the absurdity of it, I looked at my spiritual sister again and asked, “How was school?”
The question seemed to irritate Lila, but she kept her cool. “It was fun, just, well, a lot.”
“How so?” I asked with concern for her filling my voice.
“It was just a lot to wrap my head around for day one, mostly learning animal routines. I feel I am not going to handle it all well.” She said she was standing up to clean up the mess of apples.
I stood to help, and as we cleaned, I stated, “Stuff and nonsense, you will do amazing. You are the baddest bitch in town. If anyone will thrive, it will be you. Now, instead of drowning in the negative, let's go buy a milkshake. My treat.”
Lila smiled as the last apple was pulled into her magic. “Why not? It can’t hurt, right?”
“Hell yeah!” I shouted, flourishing my wings, “Milk!”
Lila looked at me like I was shouting fire in a theater.
“Shut up. Let's get shakes and forget.” I said this as we left our house, feeling a little normal.