A Happy Ending (Twilight Writes Fanfiction)


                                            Thread: https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/36129337


                                            > So this is it.

                                            > This is how you die.

                                            > After being stabbed in the back by the girl you never really wanted a relationship with, losing your job, your family, and your home, you felt abandoned.

                                            > With hardly any money left and your old friends too far away to help, you were in a pretty bad spot.

                                            > You didn't like sleeping in the homeless camp but it was the only place with a speck of warmth as the winter months were getting colder.

                                            > Sleep was still hard to come by between your makeshift tarp shelter collapsing on you and keeping your remaining possessions safe from the grabby fingers of the others.

                                            > Tonight's wake up call was a bit different though.

                                            > The police cruisers flicked their alarms on and off and blared their voice over the loudspeakers, telling you all to move on in less kind words.

                                            > You had half a mind to join the couple of vagrants who intended to stay put until they were arrested, the promise of sleeping within cell walls tempting you.

                                            > Then the commotion started.

                                            > The one super shady guy who was always slinging meth had a bit too much of his own supply that night.

                                            > After shuffling closer to the officers standing outside their car, he had pulled out his own pistol, a small revolver.

                                            > That silvery glint in the moonlight as he pointed it at the policeman will be burned in your mind as long as you live.

                                            > Which may not be much longer.

                                            > The idiot who pulled the gun got the first shot off but missed, and got lit up by the three officers who witnessed it.

                                            > Unfortunately bullets don't stop after they exit a man, and you were in the trajectory behind Mr. meth head.

                                            > One, two, three bursts of pain from your chest, and suddenly you can't breathe.

                                            > You cry out in burning agony once, then the struggle to inhale becomes your entire world.

                                            > You're partially aware of noises, cries for help and someone yelling to radio EMS.

                                            > Your shaking hands clutch at your chest, feeling your own warm blood.


                                            > Your whole body heaves in a desperate attempt to draw air into your lungs.

                                            > Somewhere in the back of your mind, buried underneath the sea of adrenaline, your thoughts race.

                                            > Punctured lungs, one is probably death, two is definitely fatal, I’m going to die, oh please make the pain stop, I CAN’T BREATHE SOMEONE HELP ME, I can’t die yet, PLEASE HELP!

                                            > Your lips are moving in a frenzy, attempting to gulp in air while your lungs fail you.

                                            > CAN’T BREATHE CAN’T BREATHE CAN’T BREATHE CAN’T BREATHE.

                                            > You feel your consciousness slipping as the remaining oxygen in your blood fails to meet the demands of your panicked brain.

                                            > The panic seeps out of you steadily as your eyes flutter closed. You feel calm, almost at peace for the first time in years.

                                            > Barely awake you become aware of hands grabbing your head and opening your jaw, a plastic hook ramming down your trachea to guide the breathing tube.

                                            > Suddenly you feel your lungs expanding as the EMT pumps the bag attached to your new artificial airway.

                                            > You’re not dead yet, but you’re close.

                                            > The first thing you notice when your mind claws back consciousness are the drops of rain landing on your face.

                                            > How poetic.

                                            > Hoisted onto the stretcher and placed into the back of the ambulance, you’re drifting in and out of awareness.

                                            > The sound of the siren is far off as you feel the acceleration of the vehicle on your body.

                                            > The oxygen delivery to your lungs allows your brain to reengage your body, and the torture starts again.

                                            > You instinctively try to cough out the blood in your lungs but only succeed in pushing it through your endotracheal tube, blocking out your air.

                                            > One EMT suctions it away and you’re able to receive air again, but your body doesn’t want to stop coughing in an attempt to eject the foreign tube.

                                            > “Get the line started so we can get this poor guy sedated already man!”


                                            > The other technician slides a needle into your arm, taping it down and grabbing a syringe filled with a milky white liquid.

                                            > The first one keeps pumping air into your lungs even as he’s holding gauze pads over the holes in your chest.

                                            > As the white liquid leaves the syringe and begins its journey through your bloodstream, several things happen at once.

                                            > The loud screech of tires peal out above the sound of the siren.

                                            > High speed metal impacting creates a boom above your head.

                                            > The back doors of the ambulance fly open and your stretcher is ejected with you still strapped in.

                                            > The wheels of the stretcher spin as you travel over the side of the road embankment.

                                            > Finally coming to a stop as the gurney crashes into a pair of trees, your world settles.

                                            > It’s at this moment you realize you’re not breathing again.

                                            > This time however you’ve got some of that sedation in you.

                                            > Sedated or not, you’re exhausted and you’ve made up your mind.

                                            > You’re ready to die.

                                            > Tears fall from your eyes as all the regrets and joys of your life flash through your head.

                                            > Saying a final prayer in your mind you try to relax as you accept an end to your suffering.

                                            > Time seems to stretch out as your body starts to shut down.

                                            > You feel cold.

                                            > The raindrops fall, with powerful slowness.


                                            > The raindrops fell, with powerful slowness.

                                            “Hmmm, yes, that’s good, now just to work the transition scene in, and it’s almost finished!”

                                            > You levitate the quill down and look back over your outline notes.

                                            > So close to the end now, you were ready to see this project finished today, and the storm outside was the perfect backdrop for your creative writing.

                                            > Perhaps because of the morbid subject matter.

                                            > It was a guilty pleasure of yours, but you are a studious purple unicorn, you feel you’ve earned the right to nerd out and write edgy fanfiction.

                                            > Even if the original show was meant for small foals, the incredible following it had gained among the adult ponies meant that all sorts of stories and art were made.

                                            > While the show writers did create a darker atmosphere than Equestria was used to, things always turned out ok for the humans.

                                            > Yet there was something alluring about the suffering they endured, so you and some of your fellow fans had taken a liking to extrapolating that suffering into a whole detailed fanfiction universe.

                                            > Today you would be finishing one of your biggest projects, almost a year in the making with all the detail you had put into creating the character’s life.

                                            > Especially his more recent sufferings. A part of you felt bad about writing the terrible things he had gone through, but the other part enjoyed seeing the human spirit in action.

                                            > At their most strained and exhausted, they would somehow find a way to push back against their situation.

                                            > Always their determination would shine through just as they were about to break.

                                            > What would be too much for them? That train of thought had led your story to where it is now.

                                            > Once a human had endured his last trial, who would be there to comfort him?

                                            > You and many other fans had decided that mares are the perfect candidate for this job.

                                            > With a slightly heavy heart you prepare to finish your story.


                                            > It’s an interesting and somewhat sad feeling to see the end of something you’ve been working on for so long, but now you get to write the best part.

                                            > A happy ending for him and the mare who is definitely not a self-insert.

                                            > Speaking out loud, you begin to write the new and final chapter.

                                            “The sense of sound is the last to go as one expires. Anonymous could no longer see but he could hear. As his final few breaths left him, he smiled a bit. He relaxed as the melody of the rain led him to sleep one last time.”

                                            “Yet it was not the end for Anon. His time of suffering was drawing to a close, and now he would be comforted.”

                                            “He awoke as he had fallen asleep, to the sound of rain. Though this time the rain was heard filtered through wooden walls. He could smell the scent of books and oak, and as his eyes slowly cracked open, he could see the dim evening light streaming through a window.”

                                            “The light illuminated the rows of books on their shelves, and at the far end of the room he saw a pony, a young unicorn mare with purple coat and navy mane who was relaxing as she-”

                                            > “Wow.”

                                            > Whipping your head around, you saw him.

                                            > Sitting there with his back against the wall, looking at you.

                                            > It was him.

                                            > He looked exactly as you had imagined, every little detail down to the stubble on his face was a match for the character you envisioned with your mind’s eye.

                                            > You were frozen in shock, jaw open and empty of any words to say.

                                            > “I wasn’t expecting this. I know you, but it’s been years.”

                                            > He wore a polite smile, though his eyes spoke to his tiredness.

                                            > “Twilight Sparkle.”

                                            > He knew your name?!

                                            “Y-y-you know who I am?”

                                            > “I do. Though I’m curious how you know who I am.”

                                            > Your darting look back at your parchment betrays you, and he steps closer to read what you have written.

                                            > His face falls as he reads his own final moments recorded mere minutes ago by your own quill.

                                            > “You wrote this?”


                                            > Faced with the impossible talking to you, your mind is having trouble catching up.

                                            “Well I uh, yes. I did write it.”

                                            > “Did you come up with it yourself?”

                                            “Yes, er well I thought I had. Well technically it’s fanfiction, but I made you, uh I mean, well you see I thought I had created you in my head but now I’m not so sure, oh gosh I can’t believe you’re real!”

                                            > He gives you a questioning look, and you decide to offer a question in return.

                                            “How do you know who I am?”

                                            > He blushes a little, but confesses.

                                            > “Well there’s this show I watched when I was younger, and it was about you and your five friends. You’d learn lessons about friendship and write to Princess Celestia about them.”

                                            > This is uncanny! Did they create you? Did you really make him or was it divine intervention that made your writings match up to his life?

                                            > Oh no. What if you did make him?

                                            > Tears come unbidden and start to pour from your eyes. You were a cruel pony!

                                            “I-I’m so so sorry Anon. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t think you were, oh gosh! I hurt you, I made you go through so many horrible things and I-I-”

                                            > His arms embrace you and squeeze you to his chest.

                                            > It’s comforting but you can’t help running your hoof over the holes in his shirt, where you had just seen him bleeding in your mind as you wrote. The memory of what is now a very real event renews your tears.

                                            > Though now there was no evidence of injury, no scarring. In fact all his old scars you wrote about from previous harm were totally gone.

                                            > As you look him over in wonder you notice he’s crying as well, tears streaming down his face to mirror your own.


                                            > “I don’t think this is your fault Twilight.”

                                            > Now he’s smiling at you.

                                            > “There’s too much lining up here with perfect accuracy for this to be coincidence, but somehow I know you’re not responsible. I think we were just ‘linked’ somehow. You’ve always been my favorite pony.”

                                            > The emotional rollercoaster continues as you feel your cheeks heat with a blush.

                                            > Though your mind is screaming for answers, for once you feel at peace to lay your inquisitive nature to rest.

                                            “Well you’re my favorite human, Anon.”

                                            > He continues to hold you close and you squeeze him tightly with your hooves.

                                            > This is nice.

                                            > “To tell you the truth I’m a little curious how I ended up here with all this being the way it is, and I think you probably are too.”

                                            > You nod your head against his chest.

                                            > “Maybe it’s better if we don’t think about it too much and just appreciate what we have instead?”

                                            > You find yourself nodding again.

                                            > You feel at peace, like a missing part of your heart you didn’t know was gone has suddenly returned.

                                            > “I feel like I’m finally home. Thank you Twilight.”

                                            > You both content yourselves to simply enjoy each other there in the fading light of the library, troubles and stories laid aside to make way for love.