Roommate at the end of the world

by DJ Chrysalis

Rating: mature
Tags: Alternate Universe, Anthro, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Romance, Octavia, Sex, Random, Slice of Life, DJ P0N-3
Length: 6139

What happens when the Act's been dropped? No more judgment, no more rules, no more time? The world's a strange place, full of ponies, and other races. But what's it like when you know it won't be for long?

What happens when the Act's been dropped? No more judgment, no more rules, no more time? The world's a strange place, full of ponies, and other races. But what's it like when you know it won't be for long? What happens when the world is ending?

Let's see how this goes.

Just as a side note: all tags are subject to change/actually appear in the story. namely the mature ones.

Published 2013-12-05 21:20:04 UTC
Last updated 2017-07-21 05:12:52 UTC

1: Roommate at the End of the world.

The End. Seems like every story these days starts there huh? But maybe that's just the beginning. I'm not that great of a writer, hell, this is just me rambling while I wait for Her to wake up. She's the one who'd know how to write this like a piece of "classical literature" She's read them enough, I just mak-... Well, I made music, once.

People are funny when they might not have a tomorrow to look forward to, they just drop the act. Most of the neighbors just went a little crazy this last week and decided to break shit. Others decided they would never live the nine months it'd take to make a baby, so you can imagine where that led. Not that I'm complaining, decency went out the window pretty quickly, and the views you can catch in the park are better than most porn mags anyway. On the upside for me, haven't had to wear my "signature look" for months, those shades are horrible to walk around in; She even stopped with the fancy dresses, and even the bowtie, only half the time is there even underwear to put on, again, can't complain about the view.

I suppose I should write down what I mean by "The End" even if no one is left to find this jour- who am I kidding? it's a diary. I keep a fucking diary ok? Anyway, even I can hardly believe how fast it happened. Started as just a passing comment in the newspaper "Princesses predict end of the world in one year" hidden about three pages back, right under the political comics that are only kinda funny.

No one paid any mind to it, until about six months in, that's when the Princesses decided to leave the government to us ponies and pursue their own flights of fancy, Celestia went full flower-child on us, and brought two of the elements of harmony with her, Princess Twilight and the yellow one, I think, it's been hectic. Luna decided that despite the hostilities between the nations, she would go try and make peace with at least one of the other races around Equestria, to try and save a few of them on the Moon, last I heard she was heading to the Griffon lands with the Queen of the changelings.

The rest of the Elements of Harmony, if they're even called that anymore, after that whole lock box event, which oddly enough was about the time that the world was first said to be ending. Decided they'd follow the princesses, the smokin' hot blue one and the tasty orange girl both went with Luna, while Pinkie just decided to party a while longer with Celestia and, what was her name again? Butter Hide? And the last one, something like Scarcity, went off to see the world with her little sister and a dragon of all things.

Strangest part is: no one really knows what the Princesses meant when they said "end of the world" The Sun still rises and sets, the Moon follows Luna around so she can move those who want to live on the Moon for a while, even the stars haven't stopped shining. But still the riots happen, the GREAT end of the world sex, and Us. I'd never have guessed She liked me that way, never even knew She liked mares. Can't say I hadn't fantasized about Her a few times; Her drop-dead gorgeous grey fur, the amethyst eyes that just seem so cute and mature at the same time, and even that stupid pink bow-tie when she wears it. Like I said, can't complain about the End, it has it's perks.

Author's Note

This was just an idea that popped up late one night, this chapter's short, but let's see if I can actually write enough of this to get published.

2: Is the End really the End?

Well, I don’t think anyone expected the End to be the way it was. Could it ever be?

No brimstone and fire, no bright flash and it was gone, there were no demonic hordes, or even devastating wars. The End was not a whimper or a bang, no fanfare, no debris, just emptiness.

All of the predictions of the end of the world; Sun exploding, Tartarus opening, bombs falling, nothing like those. The world was there, and then, it wasn't. the entire lack of… well, anything, was probably more shocking than the entire year of waiting. You’d expect the end of the world to be an event, something to burn into your memory for the rest of your life, but it wasn't.

Without a time system to go by, I can only guess how long it’s been, but by anyone’s guess it’s been about a week, give or take about a day, since it happened. No one really saw it coming, the Princess stopped by our city barely three hours before it happened. We decided to at least see the moon before our time was over, me and Her. After debating it for nearly a year, we left. Left the apartment, left the city, left the world, only a suitcase of clothes and essentials, an old battered Cello case, a few bits in case we wanted to party in the last minutes, and each other.

We approached the Envoy, Luna’s posse of followers and friends who had chosen to help her any way they could to “save” as many as she could. I saw the former Princess, she had dropped the title months ago; the Queen of the changelings, a kelpie or two, the two former elements of harmony, who had apparently found someone special, I didn’t ask who. A few griffons, a minotaur or two, several locals, all races and types. And finally, Celestia, decked out in flowers, and not much else.

As we waited out our turn to be sent “TO THE MOOOOON!”… Yeah, I didn't think it was funny either… the now-normal activities of the block continued on around us. There’s that rich old Mustang being followed by his swarm of “companions” damn are they lookers. Next up is the nice old mare still buying gifts for her grandcolt, the sweet old thing. The sounds of a riot three streets over. The, I can’t call it anything but an orgy, in the penthouse above us, I bet they've been having a great few weeks, I wonder how much their water bill would have been if this hadn't been happening. The trick-turners waiting on the corners, the respectable stallions acting a bit more primal, the upper class trying to buy their way into the front of the line. Just another day in the city during the end days I suppose.

The problem with the end is that those without money go on a tear, that blender that you’ve always wanted? It’s not like the police will care if you just take it. The new skateboard? Hell, what am I going to do with money in a few weeks? But the ones with money already crack down even harder. Factory workers still go Monday through Friday, retail workers, I feel bad for them. Imagine the busiest shopping day of the year, and then take away any restrictions the shoppers feel. That was every day for a while.

“NEXT!”

Me and Her, we shuffled up together, our time had come, Our names had been called, we saw the former rulers of our country, surrounded by the leaders of even our worst enemies, smiling down at us, our hands squeezed tightly together, our bodies pressed together for support, and our eyes full of confusion. The once-ruler of the night gazed at us with understanding in her eyes, gave a small smile, and with a silent nod to the ring of magical powerhouses and long-forgotten friends surrounding us, it began.

The power was incredible, surging through the air, the music of power flowing, flying, painting a tapestry of color and emotion. Hope, Sorrow, Pride, Love, Rage, Happiness, Life. They flowed and swirled, and then, we rose. Not like a canon, fired into the void of in-between, not teleported, just rose. We looked down on our home for the past five years, slowly drifting away, and towards the pale pearl above us. I looked at Her, those gorgeous eyes tearing up silently, her shoulders shaking with the emotion. She turned to me, threw her arms around my shoulders, and all I could do was hold her, my own ivory arms shaking around her, blue hair falling onto her striking ebony mane, and as we went higher, the tears slowed, and as she looked up at me, wonder in her eyes, I wished I could talk to her, say it would be fine, that we would be together. If only I could say something, anything!

Below us, slowly making the journey with us were the two from before, striking multi-colored hair next to flowing golden locks, one crying on her partner’s shoulder, I wished I could whisper reassuring words into Her ear, hell, I’d be ok with just humming into her scalp, but life had seen it fit to take that away from her, my voice and her ears. By Faust above life was a cunt, good thing it was about to take a massive fist up the asshole. FUCK YOU LIFE! FUCK YOUR MESSED UP SENSE OF HUMOR! I’d give anything to be able to speak to Her again. Well, I wouldn't give her up to be one of the Faust-damned Seven themselves!

As we neared the Moon, that final resting point, we looked down, back to the world we had never left, and before our eyes, without fanfare, without some showy end, Equestria just… wasn't. the stars still twinkled, the Moon still reflected the sun, and the sun still shown, but the land, the planet that had once occupied the space, just, wasn't.

Our last moments before touchdown, we could see creatures, millions, swarming the moon, and the leaders of all known nations, and even a few I’d never seen, rallied their children, their troops, their subjects. The world had ended, right on time, not with an explosion, or with a brilliant flash, or with a horrible war, but with silence and tears.

Author's Note

and with that, this fic is now long enough to submit, let's see where it goes shall we?

Dem edits tho; The Seven... who are the masked mares? Are they even female? are they even ponies? Hell if I know. ask Her, she might have an idea.

What do you think people would act like if they knew the world was ending in a year, but not how.
what would you do?

3: Her name

The end. Not where I’d love to start a story, but it’s fitting I guess, the ending of my world.

Over such a small thing too. A stupid chest. My world ended from a tiny little box with a key-hole. Sentiment is a bitch.

“AND SO ARE YOU!” I yelled at their retreating form.

On the other side of the coin, I guess every end is a beginning. At least that’s what Hollneigh Wood writers want us to think. Though, sitting here, staring at my shoes, waiting for my coffee, wanting to just have it all end, not just my world but the entire world. That is, until I saw Her. Only one thought that ran through my head, the only thought that could be heard over the wave of shock.

Music.

The confident sway in her hips, the flawless grey fur, and the consuming black mane. She walked past, eyes closed, humming a tune I could have sworn I’d heard somewhere before. If she wasn’t a Muse sent from Faust herself, I would visit the moon one day.

The rhythm picked up its tempo. The melody reached its climax. The music puns stopped running through my head, and the blood started going to my heart, pumping as fast as it was. Fuck the coffee. Fuck that chest. Fuck the end of my world. She was right there. The music of my heart and soul. And she was walking away. Getting farther away from me.

My heart was pounding again. Not from Her, but matching the same fevered beat of my feet on the sidewalk. I ran. Ran like gravity didn’t mean a thing, and my muscles weren’t just screaming for me to stop, they were full on rioting. But still I ran, faster and faster, I had to catch Her. I had to meet Her. Had to run faster. Damnit! She was so far ahead. But wait. She stopped, finally. Thank you window shopping!

As I came up to her, out of breath, hair a complete mess, fur matted with sweat, face covered in barely dried tears. Not my best look, but hell, time to roll with the punches. It took me a few seconds to catch my composure, but she seemed amused more than anything, those brilliant amethyst orbs twinkling brightly above her smile.

As I stared into them, those shining purple doorways to heaven, I couldn't even speak. The very idea of words seemed to insult Her, the even existence of language an affront to this goddess of beauty incarnate. The only thoughts that made it through the crashing seas of my confusion was music. Not an old tune sung a thousand times, but new music. A sound never heard before, a song left to be composed. And then she laughed.

If what I heard before was music. This was Life itself.

“Well, miss “new music” do you have a name?” She didn't so much ask, as the Eternal Herd’s choir sang

Had I really said that out loud? I did, didn't I? The most stunning mare I’d ever met, even more enthralling than “they who shall not be named” when we first met. And She already thinks I’m a kook. The least I can do is give her the name of her new creepy acquaintance…

“Well, I suppose it would be rude to not introduce myself first, wouldn't it? My name is Oc-“ And with that, the world went white.

--- [=]-[=] ---

My everything hurt. first step: check for missing limbs; Legs? Ow… check Arms? …Ow, check. Tail? Tail?! Ow… yup, still there. Fingers worked as well as expected. Toes? Not important, what happened to… what was her name again? O-something? Wouldn't matter much if She was dead. I opened my eyes, and could barely make out my blackened arm in front of me.

Soot wasn't that color. My arm would be a much darker grey. She was that color though. Against the pain, I pushed myself up. alright, maybe not yet, give me a few seconds. As I made my way towards her, I could only slightly see her moving, even unconscious and covered in cuts she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. As I finally reached her, checking as best I could for signs of life, I realized I couldn't hear Her breathing. And as I struggled to remember that week in gym where we learned CPR, panicking. I didn't hear the ambulance arrive, or my own screams as they pulled me from Her.

The end. Not of my entire world. Not of life. Not of the Seven. But of consciousness. But not before I made sure She was in the gurney next to mine. And then my world went dark. No fanfare, no explosion this time. Just, gone.

Author's Note

Alright, so time doesn't matter much at the end of the world. But order of events might.

What's next? the middle? the epilogue? THE END OF THE WOR-... wait, no, that already happened... What about why neither of them seems to use names? Or what was so important about that chest? what gender were "they" anyway?

Maybe a better question is what happens fourth? Before the end, but after the beginning, and just between now and then. no a little more to the left. Perfect. what happens right there? Let's find out!

4: Peace and Love.

The end. Not of the kingdom, gladly, but of the War.

History has dictated that it is written by the victors, whether they be the true evil, or veritable paladins of righteousness, we may only know their side of the story. So in this instance, after the most recent war has ravaged the countryside, I shall do the same; not from an objective perspective, but of Mine, a lowly soldier.

I did not deliver the decisive blow, I was not of a secret squad, I was not a general, or a leader. I was a foot soldier. The lowest of the ranks, yet still an invaluable part of a whole; every life is. The account is that of a friend, bound in the decades of battle and bloodlust, her account is not of the length of the War, but of the middle. This, I am convinced, is
when you will hear the most honest reports of any conflict, when there is no end in sight.

As the opponent in front of me fell, his skull no more than pulp, I saw the battle for all of its glory; soldiers dying by the thousands, some standing by pure willpower or adrenaline. The battle of Ghastly Gorge was entering its third day, the eels were already well fed, and the Gorge was beginning to fill with the entrails of friend and foe alike, the stench was unbearable to some, driving to others, and the stench of victory to me.

Unfortunately, my brief break from the slaughter was over, as another faceless warrior charged at me, her sword already dripping blood from what was likely my bunk mate from basic training. As she charged; I raised my normally pristine buckler, now painted a deep crimson, preparing myself for the impact.

Three. Two. One.

But no blow came, looking from beneath my meagre protection, I saw Her; Grey coat stained with the life of countless fallen soldiers, swords flowing through limbs and bodies just as easily as the air it was swung through. No defense was needed on Her body, the twin swords parrying far more effectively than any armor, and her swift movements a deadly dance of evasion and counters. Although having lost her hearing years before, She could predict even the most enraged of blows, Her mere presence on the field rallied the troops. The Right Hand, The Ebony Sabre had come.

Even the most skilled of fighters had their weaknesses; her eyes, however fast, could not see everywhere at once, her movements, no matter how quick, would always leave gaps. But rarely was an enemy fast or discreet enough to take advantage of these traits, though many had tried, none had ever breached her defender.

The Ivory Shield, if She was the right hand, I was the Left. My armor thicker than any dagger was long; my shields the things of myth, never before breached by any who had attempted; My muscles were not hampered by the weight, for they knew what they must defend. My mere presence upon the battlefield was that of an iron wall, even when struck by the strongest of opponents, my cries would never be heard, and this was no myth.

And so We fought, the Sword who could never be tricked with words, and the Shield that would never utter a complaint. Those who flew the colors of our kingdom knew they had nothing to fear from us; but whoever stood against us knew that before this day was done, they would not see the next. Our rampage unstoppable but by the Seven or the Apocalypse itself.
As hope surged through the ranks, so too did We. Our progress unwavering even in the face of the army before us. Those who laid down their weapons were spared our wrath, but those who stood against us were not for long. To be captured was a fate worse than death to the enemy, whose code drove them to die in service of their ruler. But mercy was the right thing to do, those with no will to fight were not worthy of that glory.

Even the titans grow tired however, and as our pace slowed, the battle once again reached a stalemate. Albeit one much more in our favor. As we rested, surrounded by carnage and viscera, She spoke. Her voice a melody, one which restored my strength more than any elixir. Her words will forever be ingrained into my memory, as everything She had ever said is.

“What do you fight for?”

She knew I could not speak, and knew well my answer. Together We fought for those who would could not do so themselves. She fought for Hope, a land not embroiled in death, but in Life. Me? I knew what I fought for. But no others would hear but Her, for only she could understand what I would answer. Some fought for Pride, and glory; others out of Rage or Sorrow.

Without thought, without hesitation. I raised my head, and as Our eyes met, no words were needed, they hadn’t been for a lifetime. My own ruby orbs all but screaming the answer, and Her Amethyst irises bearing the knowledge of a lifetime together. The reason My shield had never faltered, My will never wavered, and I had never fallen.

I fought for Love. For Her. And I always would. Even in the next life.

Time went on, and battles raged; kingdoms rose and fell; and governments were toppled. All at the hand of the Sword and Shield. But even Titans grow weary. They had conquered for decades, far beyond what advisors and court mages had predicted or promised. In the end, They changed the history of our entire race; supporting a small kingdom that has risen in the west, not one ruled by a king or queen of old, who’s right to the thrown was never questioned; but for two sisters, not yet old enough to even fight. But wise beyond their years. With the help of these two Lords of the battlefield, and many more, the Sisters came to control the land, and established their own Nation. One of Peace and Life, under the banner of Harmony.

The Hands never lived to see the kingdom fully realized, at the age of fourty winters, the Sword of Peace, and the Shield of Love laid down their arms to find their own peace, not on the rivers of crimson, but in the fields of gold. Elysium welcomed them with open arms, the Seven personally escorting them to their destination.

And thus ends the story. Not of war and death, but of Peace and Love.

Author's Note

hehehehhe... nearly 80 views. I'm happy so far, I wonder how big this fic will get?

WHAT'S GOING ON?! Time doesn't make sense! I thought They were from the End? EXPLAIN YOURSELF!

Not everyone is who I say they are. and the end of the world is a tricky, What about my world? what if that ends tomorrow, what then huh?

The World is odd, did I ever say this was the end of THE World? Not that I recall... so let's see you guys figure this out.

Also, who the fuck are the Seven? "I" Might have an idea... but she ain't talking.

5: Home Pt. 1

The en-… No, not the end, the beginning.

The beginning of my life, my real life, not just existing, waiting for a rich earth pony to find me, but actually having it happen. I finally had an owner, a mistress (or master, I was too excited to care at this point) a ho-... sorry. A Home.

The selection process had been nerve-wracking, two incredibly wealthy ponies, a Lord and his Lady, had come to our home; Miss Collar’s Unicorn Emporium. We weren’t a very popular or large, only about twenty Horns in stock at a time; barely two Wings a year, and they never lasted long. But every once in a while, a rich family would come by for a few of us, usually for maid work or “companionship” but that was generally only for the older ones. These two though; even us Horns, without much knowledge outside of the usual duties we were trained for, would recognize the second most wealthy family on the continent, second only to the Apples.

The Philharmonicas.

As they strutted down the aisle, checking each foal about my age, just old enough to get a cutie mark, I could hear them asking about which one “She” would like, or whether or not they should have gone to a bigger home, tried to find a Wing. One passing comment from the Mare; a gorgeous black show-mare, with a stark white mane, almost like my own coat, mentioned something about noise, and whether or not one of us might try and speak back. I knew I never would, if only they would pick me. But the selection went on, slowly growing closer to me, and maybe my chance at success.

As they made their way towards my bunk, with it’s boring green blanket, and not-quite-soft-enough pillow, and a depressingly bare chest at the foot; the only thing I could think of was why they would even be here; The most average Hornhome in Equestria. Maybe it was the closest to their summer home? Or were they in a rush to find a new hoofmaid? But finally, they were at my neighbor’s cot, Heartstrings, cute filly, a bit odd at times, but a delicious snack after a long day, she did taste oddly like mint though.

“And what is your name?” The Stallion asked, stepping up to me. I tried to answer, my mouth opening, but no sound came. “I asked you a question, now answer me.” His tone left no question what would come if I didn’t. Thinking fast, I lit my horn to fetch a small writing pad from my chest, but he did not take kindly to my use of magic, slapping my horn, and causing me to drop to the floor in pain.

“Oh, I’m so sorry sir, this is number 35, her name is of course, entirely up to you. She meant no disrespect by her silence I’m sure… or, her, uhm…. Magic.” Pleaded the closest thing I’d had to a mother “She’s mute, you see. Born that way.” Looking back down at me, the Stallion with his hard purple eyes “Stand.” As I rose shakily to my hooves, head still ringing, he seemed to be appraising me, my every motion was under scrutiny. “No name. No voice. How about attitude? What has she been trained for?” He questioned. “She’s very well behaved, we’ve never had trouble out of her, even when we began her Escort lessons. Beyond that, she has been taught how to clean, obey, some cooking, and knows several tricks.” Miss Collar listed off many of my achievements, and entertainment skills to the hard orange stallion, but I was too busy being thoroughly studied by the Mare to truly pay attention.

Those eyes, piercing silver, staring at me. My every twitch filed, every shift in my posture catalogued, Every curve and cranny studied. Her expression gave nothing away, nothing but a sense of loathing for me. “She will do.” She finally said, to my utter disbelief. And so I was told to gather my things, say my goodbyes, and be ready to go within the hour.

I stood there, shocked and amazed, unable to move. I had been chosen! Me! The mute horn with no name! Even if I wasn’t mute I couldn’t have spoken. But in my state of disbelief, I didn’t notice Lyra coming up to me. “Looks like you were the lucky one today, Too bad they didn’t want two like the apples last time, I wonder how Dee and Spit are?” she said with enough melancholy to whither a tree, and snap me out of it "I'm going to miss you." As much as I would have loved to comfort her with words, tell her that she would find an owner someday. I couldn’t, I could only give her a pat on the shoulder, and smile at her. I was gonna miss this filly, her cute little squeaks and moans, and that odd hint of mint in her nectar.

But as I , I realized that my time was running short, and I hadn’t even started preparing. My horn fizzled to life once more, taking small articles from the desk or my chest and packing them carefully into the bag that had been left for me. An old book with worn edges; a few pictures of me and old bunkmates; my journal; an old stuffed toy with singed hair from my first magic surge. Bits and bobs from my past years here were lovingly packed together. My hooves shook as I zipped it up, my entire life could fit in this one small bundle, only two objects stayed outside of my memories; a small leather ribbon from Lyra, one that had seen quite a few nights around her tail. And a brand new Collar, with a golden plate reading “Philharmonica” and a space for my name after it. I would have a name! A real name!

And so I stopped by the rooms of friends, fuck buddies, and enemies. Hugged, Kissed, and beat the pulp out of respectively, and Finally made my way down to the front of the store. I had only ever been as far as the counter before, we weren’t allowed to use the front door which took up about a third of the wall, the rest being large windows. The room itself was bright and cheery, a place to have your child wait for you to take your pick or meet their new friend that you had just bought.

Slipping on my new collar over my head, and tying my hair back with Lyra’s gift before entering the room, I gave one last look at the hallway, the chipper paint of the front end slowly giving way to the grey-blue that had been my home for my entire life, my ruby eyes beginning to tear up. And then I stepped forward, my eyes low and posture submissive. “Obedient and punctual, She may be useful yet.” “But we may have to do something about that mane, look at that gaudy silver.” “We still have time, Her birthday isn’t for another day.” “Very well, come along, we need you properly cleaned before tomorrow” and with that, we left.

My world had ended, but in its place grew Theirs. And I couldn’t have been happier.

Author's Note

The next chapter has ribbons and hair dye (also, can you find a major inconsistency with previous chapters?)

So many edits to this author's note... I don't know what to tell you and what not to. Either way, I'll leave this to deep questions and not information about the universe, because that might spoil the story.

6 The Rebel

Have you ever looked into your family history? Even skimmed it? Usually there's nothing too weird, a great uncle who served on the other side of a war, a grandmother who took a minotaur for a mate. Maybe a few writers, or “writers”. But what you never expect, or at least what I never expected was, well, myself. And I don't just mean my great-something granny looked kinda like me with a different muzzle. I mean me. Holding a sign that said “Hi me. Weird right? “ in my own hornwriting.

I have to say. Bit of a crisis right then. Some crying, ice cream, definitely some cuddling with my old stuffed toy and/or the Mrs . Though the latter would have happened rain or shine. But eventually I reached the point that I could look at the rest of her albums and records, and that's where things get really strange. Beyond just seeing yourself, imagine seeing your younger self.

Duh you might say, all pictures are from a younger you. That's how recording works, in all it's forms. To which: yeah you're right, but imagine baby pictures of you, but they were taken a few decades before you were born. That's pretty much my new definition of weird, and normal now that I think about it.

Cool. OK. My life is some weird time thing. Easy to deal with. My past lives, or past selves, or just me’s maybe? I dunno how to refer to… Us I guess. Long story short, there's a journal; or a collection of them. Covers all the important stuff, I suppose, like “what the hell?” or “what's our favorite color from puberty?” (amethyst. It's always amethyst) and the apparently most commonly thought of question “AAAAAAAHHHHHHH ” which spoke to me on a very real level. Maybe it was the prose.

So yay, I'm a running time anomaly. Every few decades, there's a me. Looks acts thinks and dances like me, with no memory of past events or future happenings. Unrelated to my specific case, there's even a crown-funded support group for situations like mine. Though it's much more generalized to include “I froze myself in a block of ice to retain my beauty forever” or the recent surge of refugees from the Crystal Empire. Still, my line apparently has some crazy long history with them, so that's cool. The coffee and snacks they serve are great, they come from this bakery owned by one if the members, she works from that bakery on hackam- wait no, getting off track.

My life, weird but normal in its own way. Not unique, but pretty rare. Nothing world ending. Except it kinda might be world ending. See, myselves in all of their adventures and lives, always seem to have a few weird things in common. Aside from the obvious anyway. They're always around when something big happened. Not always a cause or even involved at all, but always a witness. One of two. And by the Seven, I mean all of the major events. From Heartswarming to the first changeling war, even less important events, like we somehow end up at every single Grand Galloping Gala. Even if we're not invited, we end up there. As staff, performers, at least once as a janitor that just showed up too early to her shift. Anyway, so the recurring theme here is that life likes us to party, and life likes to take a huge shit on us at least once in our lives. From war and famine to plague and death.

Then there's the Seconds. So named for being the “Second of Two” that we are One of. Mare, when I first heard the name I was like “c'mon, that's the best they could come up with? Not even something cool like “the society” or I dunno, maybe even their family name?” but hey, turns out they call us the Seconds same as us. We always find our counterpart, though sometimes we don't Know about this whole deal until we'll after life has taken its path, and sometimes even then we never learn. Going by the entries into that journal, it's about 70% of the pairs don't know till way past what our lovely little catalogers have dubbed “the Flip” that aforementioned life-shit moment we observe.

A Flip is a point in time that some part of the universe flips the table and then proceeds to keep playing the game in the aftermath. Or conversely, when the universe flips a coin to see who gets fucked more. Either way, we see it. Us and Them, every time. Sometimes we've been the direct cause of it, as sometimes we just happen to be on the right road to watch the beginning moves unfold.

But really, why do I have to care what this weird anomaly says, I'm my own creature, not some plaything of fate destined to see some world altering bagel be made or some shit.

I'm me, no one else. I'm not her other side. I'm going to buck this chain, I'm going to be myself, be a rebel. Live a safe life. Never going to meet my so called Second. Fuck her.

Fuck Her.

I'm me.

I'M ME!

I'm Me.

right?

Author's Note

Sorry it's been so long.
Sorry I've been away.
So maybe this little song.
Will make it all OK.

Exposition dump kinda. But one that I hope makes sense. The mystery is fun, but sometimes I just need to end somewhere to see the start.