Thanks to those who read and reviewed, and to those who added this story to their follows/favs! *cookies* :)
Bununnu: I don't know—I want to focus on the Renaissance characters. Perhaps as a side-plot, or something. Sorry! Do suggest how I'd put them here, though.
. . . . . .
It was 11:28 p.m. on the clock, but Mulan was on her bed and her roommate Megara was sprawled on the floor, amidst a messy pile of papers, empty Budweiser bottles and a half-finished pizza box.
"Screw this," Meg groaned. "I'd rather be at the pub or something."
"Same, but everything's shitty right now and I really can't risk failing."
Mulan took another slice of pizza from the box and smothered it in hot sauce. A string of curses left her mouth as grease hit the corner of her MacBook.
"What are you doing, anyway?" Megara asked. "I thought you dropped your classes on Saturdays."
"We're doing our semester research," Mulan replied, wiping her MacBook with a napkin. "Only two of us are working right now and the other three are fucking asleep! Can you believe that? And they'll get credit for 'hard work,' shitheads."
If there was one thing anyone had to know about Mulan, it was the fact that she can't stop cursing after two bottles of beer.
Meg snickered. "I get you, although sometimes I'm one of those 'shitheads.' But only, like, 20% of the time."
Meg is in her third year of college, majoring in interdisciplinary studies. Almost three exact years ago Meg had graduated high school with decent grades, and she had opted not to be in college. Her parents, however, convinced her to, blabbering about more opportunities and learning experiences.
As much as Meg hated school, she knew she didn't regret going to college. She had learned to be more disciplined, determined and diligent. The student she used to be in high school is long gone. Now and then Meg would slack off, but she would always get back on track.
Plus, she had an excuse to give to men when they asked her out. "Sorry, school makes me really busy," she would say.
"You know who are absolute fucking wankers?"
Meg giggled. "God, Mulan, you're almost drunk."
"I needed the booze." Mulan was generally a non-rebellious student, but lately with all the fuss in school and family, she had succumbed to getting drunk. Not too often, but lots of times.
"Fine. Who are the wankers?"
"Groupmates who bail on you. They decided to give me the hardest part of the project and they expect me to finish it by lunchtime tomorrow. What is this, fucking high school?!"
"Poor baby Mu-mu," Meg tsk-tsked.
Mulan rattled on, talking to her groupmates in the air. "Brothers and sisters, I'm trying to be the child my parents want me to be. Is that so hard to empathize with?"
Mulan snapped her laptop shut.
"Calm down, sweets. You might destroy your poor, innocent laptop. That thing's expensive."
"I hate everything. But oh, what the hell—sorry, Meg. I'm a terrible friend. Here you are doing your job as a student, and I flip out on nights like this. To be fair, I'm stressed out, too, but I should be more considerate."
Meg shook her head. "Hun, I'd never trade your companionship for anything else, whether you're sober or drunk."
"That's so sweet."
"Yup, and you're a bit of a mess tonight. Maybe it's time to go to sleep."
"I'm not even drunk yet. Just tipsy."
"Whatever you are, you won't remember all this. When you wake up tomorrow morning you'll be a sensible young woman again who only curses on rare occasions."
Mulan got up and went to the bathroom. "Yeah, I guess I'll do that. Thanks, Nutmeg."
After brushing her teeth and drinking water, Mulan went back to her bed to sleep.
"Do you want me to help you there?"
"I would," Meg said, "but not when you're drunk like this. Probably when you're sober. But you're not, so go to sleep."
"I think you should go to sleep, too. Just saying."
A few minutes later, Mulan was snoring. That was another great thing about college: the friends.
Meg felt a heavy drowsiness fall over her like a wave, and minutes later she found herself giving in to Mulan's advice. She left the mess of papers and food on the floor, promising that she'd clean it up tomorrow morning.
. . . . . .
"I can't believe you went to the bar without me," Flynn Rider whined. "How many chicks did you pick up?"
"None," his friend Aladdin snapped. "I thought I made it clear that I'm only interested in one girl."
Flynn made a face. "Bro, come on! The college girl?"
"She's beautiful, Rider, and she's the one."
"Damn. Since when did you turn into a romantic buff?"
"Since I met her."
"Saw her, you mean," Flynn opened the freezer and forked at his leftover Kraft dinner. "You didn't meet her, for starters. You only saw her walking in the mall. It doesn't count."
"Whatever."
"Ugh, what the hell," Flynn snapped. "This thing is hard as a rock."
"Maybe because you put it in the freezer, smartass?"
"Wow, dude, thank you for that thoughtful suggestion. Your logic has helped an awful lot."
Flynn and Aladdin were lucky enough to have a refrigerator in an 'apartment', if it even had the liberty to be called one. The landlord was kind enough to let them rent the place for free—for now, at least. He was an amiable man and he took a liking to "determined young men." Once they had decent jobs, they would pay him in full.
He didn't know, though, that these "determined" men used to work as part-time thieves. It was a dirty scheme, but they had no choice. Despite their statuses, both of them—Aladdin especially—believed in morality.
The apartment was bad. It reeked of insecticide and rats, the walls were a peeling blue-green, and their only source of light were candles. Their beds were creaky and the bathroom was tiny. It did, however, have a working refrigerator, an old TV, an electric cooling fan, a table and some sofa chairs.
It was terrible, but it was good enough for them. Better than the streets, anyway.
. . . . . .
Meg: Thx for cleaning up the mess this morning, Mo. I really, really appreciate it.
Mulan: it's nothing. thanks for bearing with my tipsy self. :-)
Meg: You weren't even that bad, lol. But don't mention it X
Meg smiled, slipping her phone back into her pocket.
She woke up in the morning with a terrible headache, and she blamed it on the combined forces of schoolwork and alcohol. Thankfully, she didn't have to clean up the mess she left the night before. Mulan also had the initiative to leave a packet of aspirin on the table, just in case Meg had a searing headache. She knew her too well, and thank God for that.
The headache didn't quite go away, however.
Meg was unfortunate enough to be one of the students who went to school on Saturdays. Esmeralda and Phoebus—ever the inseparable team—had classes, too, and she called them up to meet in their usual spot in the cafeteria.
"Hey, Meg," Esmeralda greeted the grumpy Greek girl as she took a seat beside her. Phoebus sat opposite Meg.
"Hi."
"Betcha 10 bucks she's having a hangover," Phoebus muttered.
"Don't need to bet anything, sweetcheeks. Anyone can tell."
"I'm not having a hangover," Meg said. "It's just a headache. A really bad headache."
"Due to alcohol," Phoebus finished.
"Alright, maybe alcohol was involved, but not much. And in my defense, I had to finish research for my class today. I deserve a damn pat in the back for doing my task earnestly."
"Why the hell would you drink alcohol while doing schoolwork?" Esmeralda asked in disbelief. "Red Bull would have worked just fine, or I don't know. Water?"
"Red Bull would have the same effect anyways. And besides, I find myself to work better when I'm a bit tipsy."
Phoebus shook his head. "It's all in your mind, Nutmeg."
"I swear."
Meg leaned her head on the table with a deep sigh as Phoebus stood up to get them something to eat.
"When does class start?"
"40 minutes," Meg mumbled.
"Why'd you come here early, anyway?"
"I don't know. I've nothing to do in the dorm. Mulan's gone somewhere out for a project, I think."
Esmeralda looked at her friend, shaking her head slightly.
"Want me to get you some Advil?"
"Already had one. Barely had an effect."
Meg finally propped herself up on one hand with a big sigh. Her breath felt hot against her hand. Hopefully, this wouldn't lead to a full sickness.
"I'm surprised your RA hasn't caught you sneaking in alcohol every week," Esmeralda said. "I must say, that's pretty impressive."
"Meg has her ways."
Phoebus came back seconds later, carrying a tray with hot dogs and soda.
"Thanks, Phoebs," Esme said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.
"Wow, you guys are finally dating?"
Phoebus and Esmeralda gave her a funny look.
"Nutmeg, I don't think medicine and remnants of alcohol mix well for you," Phoebus said.
"Oh, but you guys. You guys are adorable."
Esmeralda giggled. "Meg, babe, you might be a little hungover."
"Nope, not at all. Just stating the facts. You guys are like, a couple, even if it's not official. Yet."
Meg grinned to herself, as if she discovered a prediction that would change humanity.
"God, Megara. We're not dating. That kiss was purely platonic. Besides, I've done that several times already, but no one cared until now."
"You only do it to him."
"Would do it to Smith, but I don't want Poca to get the wrong idea."
"Ugh, you are so stubborn," Meg whined.
"And you're out of your mind, sweetie," Phoebus shook his head. "Eat up."
. . . . . .
Jasmine was lost, to say the least. She was certain that this was the exact same place she had been two minutes ago—the place she specifically wanted to get out of.
The place smelled like rubber and rotten fruit. Why did I ever think that this was a great idea?
She wished for the company of Esmeralda—who was the reason she was here in the first place—or at least Ariel's.
It had been a stupid bet over Facebook chat last night. Esmeralda declared in their group chat that Jasmine would not last ten minutes in an "extreme" public place. Jasmine was determined to prove them wrong.
She lasted ten minutes, all right, but she could not last any longer. To think that she had been so goddamn excited for this!
With a sigh, Jasmine pulled out her iPhone and sent Esmeralda a text.
Jasmine: Thanks a lot for ruining me
Esmeralda: what are u talking about?
Jasmine: I'm at the market outside town.
Esmeralda: huh?
Esmeralda: i didn't know u were seriously going there! we were joking around, ffs.
Jasmine: You guys were bruising my ego :'(
Esmeralda: omg, PRINCESS. alright. we'll pick u up after class.
Jasmine smirked, putting her phone back in her Prada messenger bag.
Unlike most of her friends, Jasmine didn't stay at a dorm room. Her father was a rich man, and he made sure that Jasmine received "nothing but the best." So he bought a small but elegant bungalow—complete with a swimming pool and a garage—a walk away from campus. And he had gotten a maid for them, for reasons she couldn't even fathom. (She had left weeks ago.) Jasmine was grateful for that and she loved her father dearly, but she wasn't completely happy with the fact that he is treating her as if she were still 14.
But Sultan, as everyone dubs him, was away for a trip somewhere in the Middle East. Jasmine was lucky enough to spend time away from the house and not worry about her father.
She took the bus earlier this morning—for what? Trying to prove that she could stay in a flea market?—and for a first timer, she was able to commute without trouble.
This place, however, was full of trouble.
Jasmine didn't like the smell, the sight, and the feeling… or the way those four big men were looking at her from one of the stalls.
. . . . . .
A/N: More characters to be introduced soon. I wanted to put more people in this chapter, but I don't want this to be messy and rushed. It's quite difficult, I realize now, to write such a big crossover. It can get too much since there are a TON of Disney characters, so I'm trying to introduce each of them slowly.