Mirror Mirror
So I had this idea for a crossover between all three gens, right?
Basically, after trying and failing to modify a magic mirror so that she can use it, Draculaura is suddenly thrown from her world into that of G2. Similarly, G2 Draculaura is shunted into G1, and G1 Draculaura circles back to G3.
Of course, the story is split between the three of them. G3 Draculaura is reveling in the fact that she can practice witchcraft in the open (And trying to figure out how to fix this mess of course), G2 Draculaura has no idea how she got here but she'll figure out how to get home (And she may or may not be making a list of monsters to look for when she gets back), and G1 Draculaura is slowly going insane because she's been confined to the dorm room to make sure Bloodgood doesn't find out about her.
I thought about having Moanica as an antagonist that all three gens need to team up against, but I just wasn't into it. idk, most of the fic is shenanigans and a final zombie battle just wasn't vibing with me, lol.
I don't know how long it'll take me to write it (I do not have a good track record when it comes to multi-chapter fics), but the story itself shouldn't be too long? The whole thing takes place over the course of a weekend, so I can't see it being more than eleven or twelve chapters. idk, I'll see when I get there.
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@misassumed | " here I am, not sure if you should take a chance " ( for 4 ambrosius from ballister @ misassumed 👀👀👀 )
✧˚ · . so much (for) stardust - fall out boy
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It's the past that defines the future.
As loathsome as that mentality may be in given contexts, so long as it reigns over literally the entire world, no amount of active fighting against it will make the world suddenly spin in the other direction. Fix your own mentality and still watch society around you collapse on the heaps of corpses it itself had put there, while all you can do is stand beside it and watch all the signs that had hinted to this outcome be trampled on like the voices of the innocent in a never-ending stampede.
Ambrosius is stuck in the very middle of it.
He's got voices of upbringing, his own name muttered in awe in his ears until they ring and threaten to bleed, his own face smiling so very self-assured, a beam of light, of hope, splattered on any campaign that will hold him.
He's more face than he is himself, he's more a slogan than he is a voice, he's more a symbol than he is a man, and he's all of those things willingly, he's all of those things because too long has he been told that it was and always will be the right thing to do.
He is what he is.
But according to that logic... he never should have fallen in love with Ballister, should he?
Even now while his fists clench and unclench, skin and familiar plates clanking against his bones so uncomfortably as though he'd finally woken up and realized he'd stolen the Ambrosious of this world and stuffed an impostor into it, whatever he is without any of the glitz and glamour and obedience, Ambrosius wonders...
If he is what he is... then Ballister is what he is, too.
Then Ballister should be all that they've been told him to be for all their lives.
But he's not, he's so much more, he's the only fruit tree to have grown on these soils that don't look chromatic, painted over by Alice from white to red, the only rose to have naturally grown in such a desirable colour.
He wishes he could answer easily.
He wishes there were an easy answer.
He wishes he could reach for it if there were. He wonders, could he, if he saw it?
Is the 'right choice' easier to take than he'd assumed?
And if so, which one is it?
"Bal," a breath of a name, a thousand confessions and a million implorations in a single syllable. His hand lifts, reaches out, more hesitant than half-hearted, unsure of how big the distance between them has grown at this point.
"I've always been on your side. You know that. That doesn't have... If... If you just came back and..."
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