#(<- copied but simplified another dress of hers)

[kairennart]

And the true power here… is a little more complicated than that.

For the Black Sails 10th anniversary week: Favorite story arc.

[highlordofkrypton]

the justice league's moms' book club's guide to vampire slaying, a martha kent, alfred pennyworth, atlanna & hippolyta fanfic

Chapter 6 - Love, Love, Laugh

“You are telling me,�� Hippolyta measures her words carefully. “That this book was selected specifically to appeal to me.” Judging by the cover, there is nothing that stands out to her. It is a woman in a green dress. Good for her. And yet, in her attempt to dismiss the culture of man’s world while remaining included, she has managed to miss the point entirely.

They are here, a part of this ‘club’ to bond with one another that transcends the invisible tether created by their children’s friendships. She may claim not to care about this world, but she has been paying attention. The people have raised good children and excellent allies for her daughter, regardless of gender. It is why she gave this any thought at all. 

“And you all thought that a book with a female protagonist, polyamory and a female love interest are what my tastes consist of?”

“Oh, I didn’t think. I know.” Alfred smiles.

The man spends too much smiling beneath that coiffed moustache of his. Hippolyta glares at him, loathing how he has been one step ahead of her this entire evening. From what they have told her, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo sounds wonderful. Though her disposition is tough, Hippolyta’s heart is as soft as her daughter’s. It was her who pleaded with the gods for a child, so that she could be a mother and impart boundless love on a precious little being. 

She blames her daughter for Alfred’s cleverness; she must have prepared him for this day, somehow.

“One day, I will wipe that smile off your face, but for now… Grin all you like.” She sighs. “This sounds like the exact story that I would enjoy, and perhaps encourage my sisters to reenact as a play.” Hippolyta folds her arms and steals Atlanna’s copy for safekeeping. She turns to Atlanna, resting her chin against her palm. “And will it take you seven husbands before you realize that I am the one for you?”

For all the velvet in Hippolyta’s tone, Atlanna remains unmoved. She laughs and waves her friend off.

“So, wait, did you two… really?” Martha motions between them. It’s unlike her to ask too many personal questions, but she’s genuinely curious about the lives her friends have led before they became parents to the world’s heroes. She has known Alfred for decades and he never said anything about his life before the Waynes.

“Yes and no,” Hippolyta hums. “Themyscira has always had a political alliance with Atlantis, even before its fall. I have seen many Kings, but only one Queen.” She looks at her affectionately. “I have known the pleasure of her lips, and the softness of her gaze, but she will never be mine.” Her fingers reach out and caress her cheek. Atlanna catches her hand and kisses her palm.

“It is a different kind of love. Hippolyta has my mind, but Tom is my one and my only. I will never love another the same way I love him,” Atlanna holds Hippolyta’s gaze, then turns to smile softly at Martha. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. He brings you balance and peace,” Martha nods.

“And I would only elevate you to the height of goddesses,” Hippolyta laments dramatically.

“But what about… multiple partners,” Martha asks softly and awkwardly. She’s not unfamiliar with the concept, but she worries about overstepping and misspeaking. 

The last time she had dallied was before Jonathan, her sweet traditional farm boy, and never with more than one person. Leaving the social circles her mother had practically worshipped for a small town shifted her entire world. It simplified it, and she focused all her love towards her husband, her son and what she can make with her two hands. 

She glances at Alfred. The two of them come from a time when people simply did not talk about these things. They just happened, and they were either accepted or vilified. 

“It’s not that simple,” Atlanna hums.

“It is not that simple here. Your world has many rules and hangups. Multiple partners can be compatible, but the useless baggage and insecurities.” Hippolyta groans, rolling her eyes.

“You speak from experience,” Martha wonders, out loud. 

And that comment has Hippolyta closing herself off. 

“It requires all participants to let go of everything they have learned in this modern society, and to choose love above all,” Alfred says softly, looking at his tea. 

“You speak from experience,” Atlanna says to him instead.

“Mhm,” he hums. “There are certain kinds of love that you do not let go, ever.”

Neither he nor Martha have ever spoken about it, even if he’d never hid it, either. Too long glances when they thought no one was looking, or overly indulgent touches. She had seen right through them, far too observant for her own good, but she never commented on it. She never asked, not until today, and even now, Martha did not direct her question to Alfred.

“Why didn’t you tell me? When they,” she swallows the agonizing thought. To lose not one, but two pieces of your heart at once. Martha cannot imagine the grief; when Jonathan died, his loss suffocated her. Alfred had been there for her, along with Clark and Bruce. “We would have been there for you. We could have helped with…”

“I know, but I didn’t have the words. I still don't.”

Martha reaches out to him and squeezes his hand. She sits there for a long moment, looking at him with empathy. 

The conversation is sobering, and it is wonderful. It reminds each of them that they are more than their roles, their stations and their accomplishments. They are individuals whose stories are not told, quietly tucked behind the legends they have raised. They do not need recognition, but this—what they have here—is freeing .

“My deepest condolences, Alfred,” Atlanna hums.

“If it is of any consolation, I know a place where you retrieve their sou—,” Hippolyta starts.

“I appreciate the offer, but no.” It is not in his nature to toy with life and death. He will let others do that, and he will face the consequences as they come. Alfred chippers up, lifting his chin. “Enough of this serious talk. I am on vacation. Let us leave the glowering to the Knights of Gotham. Tea, anyone?”

“Actually, I was thinking we could have dinner.” 

Outside, the sun has set. Normally, Martha would have had dinner by now, and readied herself for bed. A buzz settles in her bones as she washes the teacups and the saucers. She doesn’t stay up late often, and it’s exciting to have friends over. They’ve all agreed to stay. She also has no qualms putting the others to work. While she cleans up, Alfred has been tasked with putting the food from tea time away, and both Queens work together to set the table. 

Her mind wanders as her hands work. The farm looks different at night; she admires the way her berry bushes have begun to grow on the side. She likes to dream of happy little creatures nibbling on this season’s yield. In the distance, the barn looms over the farmhouse, but she knows it's a place of warmth filled with animals who want nothing more than chin scratches. 

The rest of her land is a forest of stalks—corn and sunflowers—but the verdant colours have turned into nothing more than a dark wall surrounding her home. Had she not spent the better part of her life surrounded by these fields, and had she not found the greatest gift in the middle of that field, then maybe she would have found the farm isolating. Intimidating.

Movement snaps her out of her reverie. The stalks don’t move, not normal. They stay still, watching her with the same intensity that she watches them. Martha stops the water, leaning forward on the counter and looking outside the window. 

There. 

A quiver of leaves, and then it’s gone again. She squints, willing herself to see what’s there. 

An animal?  

Most animals that roam freely through the farmlands are too small to cause that kind of movement. The neighbours must have lost a goat again. Her own cow, Bessie, has been known to wander. 

Your mind is playing tricks on you, she mused, looking down to dry her hands. The moment she looks up, she sees it.

A dark figure standing among the stalks, its head illuminated by the moonlight, but its features darkened by shadow. It stands there, watching her. Chills ripple across her flesh, lighting her up from the inside out with a certain kind of fear. 

“Martha?”

She nearly jumps out of her skin. Atlanna looks at her, as if she has grown three heads. Her gaze follows Martha’s out the window, but she sees nothing. Atlanteans eyesight is not made for the surface. Her body may have adapted after all these years, but seeing at night is still difficult.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes. It’s just this new generation of teenagers. They have no respect for others.” The lie is a comfort, but not for Atlanna. “I’ve slow roasted beef. A spin on Alfred’s recipe,” she grins. “I’ll be with you in a quick sec. Have a seat.”

One last glance out the window, and all she sees is the dark row of stalks—corn and sunflower.

That’s what I get up for staying up late.

[quibbs126]

Oh yeah, I made this earlier

It was spurred on by that ask I answered earlier, and I finally got around to making that Crème Brûlée redesign

I’m gonna be honest, I don’t think she turned out quite the way I wanted to. I feel like maybe she looks too much like the original and that I didn’t get to put in the piano motifs, and so she still looks kind of plain

I think one reason may have been because of my own drawing style, and how I draw small but with thick brushes, which made designing the top a bit difficult. But it isn’t all bad, and people on Twitter seemed to like it too, so I guess it might not be as bad as I thought

Now I guess I should talk about the redesign

So obviously first, gender change. This was done because I just thought that a female design, particularly a skirt or dress, would lend itself better to having some piano motifs

I think in the original conception, her skirt was going to have piano keys, but I forgot about that when drawing this. However her skirt is supposed to somewhat resemble the cups that crème brûlée is served in, at least in the pattern

Her hair I wanted to keep straight as another possible piano thing with the rectangular keys, as well as the fact that the dessert has that brittle burnt layer. I think she was originally going to have bangs, but the design fell through and so I eventually decided to copy the original’s front hair, though I wanted it to look more symmetrical. Crème Brûlée’s a perfectionist, I don’t know why he has uneven hair like that. Sure he’s a perfectionist when it comes to pianos, but still, why does he have that hair?

Schneeball ended up being a good reference for what I was trying to do, and it’s why she has her side bangs like that and why her hair looks like that. She was also originally going to have a bun, but it didn’t end up matching the hair, though I was eventually able to come up with a ponytail that worked

I kind of like the original CB’s hair color change thing, so I wanted to keep some of it while also simplifying the amount of colors used and where the lines are. I also just couldn’t get out the top dark bit

She wasn’t originally going to have such dark dough, though it was going to be more saturated and dark than the original, but when I was coloring, I was thinking that her dough should be a color that doesn’t interfere with her various hair colors, so it ended up just going all the way down. I like it though. Also her freckles are supposed to be like the burnt flecks in the dessert

I didn’t feel like changing the eyes, other than me just not knowing how to properly draw Crème Brûlée’s eyes. I did change the color so it fit better, and she ended up with that dark brown

I do have to admit, I think the top is the weakest part, and I really didn’t know what to do with it other than I suppose give her a cardigan. The puffed sleeves came from Schneeball, though I think she worked it better. I was also kind of just slapping colors on for her shirt and jacket until something looked nice, and that was my best result

And yeah, that’s about it for her. Aside from appearance and gender, she’s supposed to be the same as the original Crème Brûlée, since I like him. Maybe she’ll get tweaked later down the road, but who knows?

[tigris-types]

Okay! Finally getting around to posting this! Here is my Monster High character Tabitha Tanari, daughter of the balor librarian Ben Lore Tanari and the werecat professor Delilah Devon-Rex!

G1 is on the left, and G3 is on the right.

For G1, her outfit is a witchy dress, boots, leggings, and a belt made out of skulls. Since demons are summoned by witches and have cats as their familiars, I thought a witchy vibe would work for her "killer style". The more specific parts of her scaritage come out with the tanari/balor side being represented by the lightning on the sleeves, the fire on the leggings, and the belt made out of skulls. The skirt being torn and ripped alludes to the werecat scaritage as werebeasts often have a rip and tear motif somewhere in their outfit.

For G3, since any character can be a witch, the witchy vibes became more of a character trait than an outfit choice. The outfits for G3 are more of those of actual teens than of fashion models, so she has a much more casual look. Designs get simplified a lot more in G3 too. So the purple dress becomes a long shirt and purple hoodie, the skull belt has only one skull, the boots are more practical, and finally generic ripped jeans. A flame design is on the shoes and a storm cloud is added to the shirt to convey the demon side of her scaritage. The werecat side comes through with the ripped on the jeans, and the tiger stripes on the jacket sleeves. Her longer striped fingerless gloves in G1 have been simplified to plain gloves that just cover the hands. The colors have also been brightened and the markings have been simplified compared to G1.

Alright, I have more chores to do, so I think I'll leaves friends and personality for another post. Basically this design came from not having any shame about copying various styles from existing MH characters. When I was younger I would have been too scared to try a character like this for fear of just copying my favorite characters, but by combining the elements that I liked and recoloring them? She does look like her own character.

But here's a question, what 3 characters inspired this look? More for G1 than G3, G3 is all original.

[amyinnile]

Amy nodded at her friend in agreement with that statement, although with zero squeamishness at the pain such techniques may induce. She observed this from the point of a scientist, a professional of a different kind than Celine who appreciated the historical and cultural part of the art of tattooing and marking of the body like any other thing ancient people did. Pain was also often an integral part of it all, not just a side-effect of the, in comparison to today, primitive tools and ways of doing body art back then. She adjusted her hold on the copy of the book she held, so Celine could take a look at the unfortunately only black and white images available between pages of text.

“Well I hate to disappoint you but although they could become priestesses, because of their menstruation and ability to give birth they were still not considered holy enough, which was why they could not perform sacred duties like dressing up the sacred image of a deity. But they could own their own property, which was not something ancient Greece or Rome was always happy to allow.” Amy’s lips slanted into a little sarcastic smirk like that was no news to her - many ancient civilizations’ views and overall treatment of women throughout the history of their existence were not always equal to that of men. As per usual.

Amy gave the copy in her hands another quick look, lips pursing as she thought about Celine’s question. “Maybe, if I got any fertility left to protect now. I’ve achieved what every deeply devoted ancient Egyptian strived for - immortality after death. But it came with a price.” She shrugged, seemingly not too bothered by it. There were things about her current state of being that bothered her but those were not the ones she’d just spoken of. “A good mosquito protection tattoo would be great though.” She joked, just to lighten the mood and show Celine that these particular topics never have and never would be sensitive for her. At least Amy thought they won’t become sensitive in the future but then again, who knew. People changed. She sure wasn't the old Amy anymore.

“Priestesses of the past were often connected to witchcraft, superstitions and rituals. Of course, I simplify this connection right now but does your former coven have anything similar to this?” She jutted her chin out towards the book she held. “How far back does your coven date to?” She asked, ever curious about the past, much more so than the future.

⌝ The werewolf mother leaned over at the mention of her name, elbow falling onto the couch as she did so, dark hair cascading down her shoulder. The direct request for her attention the only thing that actually drew her out of her own work. She'd been sitting with her legs crossed beneath her and iPad in her hands for...well, she'd lost track of how long she'd been focused on the recreation of Venus that Violet had asked her to do. Much like Amy she was still in the clothing she had worn to work but fortunately for Celine that was just sweatpants and a tank top with a sweater wrapped around her for warm, black socks that had little red cherries on them covering her feet.

⌝ "The way some cultures have been able to do tattoos and withstand that fucking pain, like fuck, they definitely deserved a baby after handling that," she commented. Really the idea tattoos these days were painful surely came less from them actually hurting now so much as traditional methods genuinely causing pain because there was no electronic function to speed up precision and process. "And some still do it too, obviously," Celine added, because in many places it was part of tradition to do tattoo work the old way.

⌝ Leaning back after getting a look at the images attached to what Amy had been reading she readjusted her legs, one foot beneath her while the other rested on the edge of the couch cushion. "I do like the idea of priestesses with the intention of like having kids though, not just like 'we're virgins forever,'" she commented, because that always felt kinda silly to her. "But fuck it looks brutal," especially seeing just how low some of the tattoos seemed to come across the body. "Would you do something like that?" Celine asked. "Like, get a tattoo for protection or fertility?"

⌝ Celine herself had tattoos, perhaps considered vulgar in nature, but like most magic things were about concept and belief. Celine having the word 'DIVINE' over her pelvis would to many read like some trashy tramp stamp but Celine had got it after her second son was born and she knew she was done having children, a reminder of her motherhood, of the potential she had within her even if she was closing that chapter of herself for the safety of her witch children.

[purple-goo-writes]

Congrats, It’s a Girl

Summary: There was many things the Justice League expected- A new villain every other week, an old villain raising hell every other week, another alien invasion and at least one apocalypse a year. They were not expecting for their Watchtower to be hacked by a twelve year old girl in order to speak with her genetic donor. 

Part 1

Marinette Luthor may be only five years old, but she was far from stupid. After all her Father claimed she had a high IQ level and that it would only grow as she got older. And after having meet other children her own age, Marinette was inclined to agree that her IQ was higher then those children even if her vocal skills were limited at the moment. Though from the mutterings of her ‘Nanny’ Mercy, Marinette was not a normal child to begin with even if she looked and grew like a normal child. 

But back to her original point, Marinette Jai Li Luthor was not stupid. She knew something was strange about the boy her Father had brought back to the manor. She would estimate that his age would be that off possibly 12 judging by his height, though his attitude made her think of someone older. It was rather hard to tell unless she got closer. Though was she also noticed is that her and the boy shared alarming characteristics. While they weren’t exact copies of the other due to Marinette inheriting her facial features from her Chinese mother- the two of them shared many of the same looks- such as electric blue eyes, golden tan skin, black hair (though hers had an odd blue tint) and similar facial bone structure from what she could tell. This was suspicious and Marinette could smell something was fishy. Her Father looked rather nervous as he talked to the boy unaware of his five year old daughter creeping closer.

Perhaps the boy would be worth getting to know as he had spotted her and was looking rather amused behind her Father at her without giving Marinette away. Yes, perhaps she would keep this playmate around he seemed fun. She tilted her head to the side for max cuteness making sure the ringlets of her pigtails fell just right after making sure her dress was free of any dirt. Clutching her ugly monster plushie close, Marinette tugged on her father’s pants leg, making sure to give him her best puppy eyes, as she spoke pouting slightly at the lisp in her voice, “Father, who dis?” This was why she rarely spoke, no matter how well her sentences were formulated within her mind, it was as if they lost a majority of their words and meaning when exiting her mouth. 

It was annoying.

Lex chuckled softly as he looked down at his young daughter, before leaning down in order to pick her up. Easily settling Marinette against his hip in a practiced move, before turning back to the clone, Superboy, “This is Superboy, Marinette. He will be staying with us for a while.”

Both children studied each other with intense gazes, heads tilting from side to side before finally Superboy spoke, “She looks like me.”

“Merely a coincidence, Superboy,” Lex grimaced before trying to change the subject only to be interrupted by Marinette, “We alike...Is he bwother?”

“No, he is the genetic clone of Superman,” the billionaire sighed already having a feeling where this was going. 

Two pairs of sharp blue eyes turned to him and Marinette’s narrowed showing just how fast her frightening intelligence was. “Am I clone?” The five year old asked, while squinting at her father and Superboy, “And why name Supewboy?” “...” Lex let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, sometimes raising a genius child was hard. Though it did help that he didn’t have to simplify his explanations,  “You are not a clone, Marinette. You were, however, genetically modified in utero in order for a third of your DNA to be that of Superman’s. Meaning technically he is your father in a way, though more of a genetic donor. Unfortunately, so far, the only traits you share are his looks.”

Marinette was silent as she took all this in, head tilted to the side as she looked at her brother (or would it be Father given he is a Clone of her genetic Donor she wondered...No that would get too confusing. Brother would do for now). Yes her brother. Before nodding gravely, “Vewy well, bwother needs a name.” 

She wiggled out of Lex’s hold before grabbing a stunned Superboy’s hand and dragging him away to her room once she was back on the ground, “Come we find name.”

After all it was not every day that your father brought home a new big brother. And Luthors only have the best, which included names.

[mystic-monkey-express]

Veselko Pyrokinetic Ability:

Amber Veselko, a second-class fire soldier, and scientist for Company 8, has a 2nd-gen ability; an ability that allows her to copy and mimic another pyrokinetics ability once hit with it.

The form and style of the power get simplified but the attack damage is still the same.

Veselko can absorb and mimic almost any kind of flame as long as it's not too hot and not too strong that it would shatter her body. Another limitation she has is the fact that she can't absorb plasma. Plasma being too hot and partially electricity-based for her body to handle. However, she can absorb and could potentially even mimic Kurono's smoke. Which that in itself comes with pros and cons that will be discussed later in this.

There's no set amount of fire and power Veselko can store within her body. As long as she doesn't fall unconscious she can store and maintain it. A downside to this is the fact that she has to let out and use the ability after every mission. If she doesn't do that before she either goes unconscious or falls asleep the flames and ability she absorbs will immediately all fire at once. Causing extreme stress on her body as well as setting everything around her on fire.

With Kurono's smoke ability Veselko has the easiest time absorbing it and it's one of the only abilities (until after the 3 month time-skip) that Veselko can absorb passively. Due to the smoke being more airier than flames if Veselko activates her ability while in the middle of it the smoke will automatically start getting sucked into her body. Making a lot of Kurono's attacks unusable.

However, the major con of this is the fact that the smoke will start to suffocate her faster than anybody else. So once she's exposed to this there's only a limited amount of time before she passes out due to the lack of oxygen. The effects of this can last a couple of days until Veselko is back in working order.

To help utilize her ability more, Veselko frequently forgoes any form of armor; leaving her frequently to be slightly more under-dressed than a typical fire soldier. Funnily enough not as under-dressed as Tamaki Kotatsu but she does forgo the neck coverage, gloves and frequently takes off her bunker coat.

Due to her ability and how it works Veselko is more in charge of making sure the non-powers (I.E. Licht, Vulcan, and Sister Iris) are safe from harm.

Well, primarily Head Scientist Viktor Licht since he has a habit of getting into near-death situations.

Spoilers for Anime Only Watchers:

UPDATE AS OF DAY ** OF THE MONTH **** YEAR 198 OF THE SOLAR ERA:

Due to Adolla merging more and more with our world every pyrokinetic who is a third-gen or second-gen has their pyrokinetic ability getting stronger. Amber Veselko included.

Due to the oncoming merger, Veselko can now absorb and mimic a pyrokinetic user just by skin-on-skin contact. Basically nulling the ability.

The same restrictions still apply, however.

[colourfromtheheart]

Image description: a large white piece of paper, with handwritten black text that reads

"When my cousins, Nadya and Elyane, went to boarding school, Elyane became began to be called Ira. I couldn't wrap my head around that. How come? Why? Do all people have to have russian names?

Much later, I found out that when children were taken to boarding schools in soviet Union, they were given russian names for simplicity's sake. They had their hads shaven, were forbidden to speak the nenetzian language and wear national dress. This was a policy to reduca a national identity to a more "correct" one - a soviet identity. During the nineties, echos of the time remained. That's how Elyane became Ira.

To this day nenetz names are sometimes difficult to understand and - in a way - irregular. Goverment workers often make mistakes when writing them down. That's why my mother, when she used to work at the marriage registry, took matters into her own hands and made a dictionary of nenetz names, which other official could use.

The nenetz people chose names for their children with a lot of care, concerned that they my may accidentally force the fate of another person with the same name onto a child. I was called Galina, after the midwife to simplify matters. Because of my heart condition I would have to spend a lot of time in hospital, so I'd need a simple name that wouldn't confuse the staff. Once, I asked my mother what she would call me, if she would have given me a nenetz name. She answered: Syanda.

Performance for my cousins -

Nadya and Elyane

-take a copy of the Dictionary of Nenetz names

-take turns reading it

-pick a name you like"

Story of Russia's colonization of the Nenets.

[pi-cat000]

Girl who made the night sky: p5

NOTE: so I started writing this again this year but didn’t get very far. Here’s what I wrote if anyone was interested. I might post it on ao3 as well, not sure.

Summery: To return home Shikako splits herself infinitely across dimensions. A fault in one of the splits results in a discorporated Shikako stranded in the Naruto canon-verse.

Part 3, Part 4

Her alarm goes off just as the sun begins to peak between the buildings opposite her apartment block.  Sakura roles over to glare at the thin beam of light filtering through her window, catching in floating dust particles. Somewhere in the dark of her mind Kako shifts with amusement, prodding at her sluggish thoughts, pushing them into a state of awareness.

/Morning./ The word is said slowly, echoing with a lazy laughter. Sakura scowls, flopping over to hit the snooze on her alarm, yawning. She is still getting used to waking up at dawn and is thus completely reliant on her alarm to shake her from her sleep. A real shinobi would have enough control to wake up whenever they desired.

/Practise makes perfect,/ Kako says as if guessing the direction of her thoughts.

“Easy for you to say,” Sakura mutters, dragging herself up and yawning again. There is more idle amusement from Kako.

/Have a good day./

Slowly, the impression of Kako fades into the neutral baseline of just-Sakura, signalling that the other was asleep.

“I will,” Sakura comments in her renewed alone-ness.

Kako now slept during the day, leaving Sakura to her own devices. Whatever that not-dream had been, it had disturbed Kako enough that she now spent most of her ‘awake’ time watching over Sakura while she slept. This left only a few scant hours in the evening for discussion, conversation and hanging out together. Despite only having Kako around for a few months, Sakura already misses the other’s presence. Though their interactions had always been limited, reduced to scattered sentences and the occasional emotion, just having Kako listen to her ramblings or watch as she walked to and from the academy, studied or completed whatever other task she had set herself. Funny how much of a difference just having someone around and interested made even the most mundane parts of life. 

Discouraged by her own solitary thoughts, Sakura contemplates returning to bed and sleeping an extra hour. Not like Kako would know if she did. The notion passes quickly. Kako would be disappointed and the thought of disappointing Kako make her sad. Also, she was pretty sure it was dangerous for her and Kako to sleep at the same time. Sakura’s not an idiot. Even if Kako had yet to outright say it, she could put two and two together. Something bad had happened during the nightmare other than just giving them a fright. 

...

The rest of the morning progresses according to her new schedule. She dresses and packs her bag. With her collection of notebooks steadily increasing, it was starting bulge in the middle. The sooner she figured out how to properly make storage scrolls the better.

Next, she shuffles down to the kitchen, pulling together a meal with the correct amount of nutrients. Now Sakura is waking up before her mom, she has been forced to plan her own meals. Kako had been very helpful in that department, pushing her towards the type of diet she would need to help with muscle growth and keep her energy levels high throughout the day. It didn’t taste particularly nice, but it was functional, and she couldn’t help but wonder if the other non-clan kids knew about this sort of stuff. Meal planning was something they’d touched on in class but not something Sakura had bothered applying to her day-to-day life. Sure, she’d always tried to eat healthy but, like most things ninja related, there was a lot more to physical conditioning than just that being healthy.  It had only been a week but she has already noticed a marked improvement in her daily energy levels.

...

Sakura closes the door her apartment just as she begins to hear her parents start to shuffle around, preparing for their own workday. She takes a second to breath in the cool morning air before heading towards the old academy training grounds.

When she arrives the training area is empty like it usually is. Not a lot of academy students bothered coming out so early, especially not to this training spot which was in an awkward location. She hadn’t even known it existed till Kako pointed it out.

Another yawn.

A long sigh.

Sakura begins her warmup stretches, trying not to let the silence of her own mind bother her too much.

She is maybe halfway through the revised exorcize routine that Kako put together for her, when movement at the edge of the training field catches her attention.

It startles her enough that she almost trips through the final set. If Kako were awake Sakura might have had some warning as Kako was usually the one to sense and alert her to people approaching unexpectedly. Maybe she should work on her spatial awareness or lack thereof. She’ll add it to the list.

As it is, she thankfully doesn’t trip and embarrass herself because the person approaching is very familiar.

“Sasuke-kun!” She can’t help but call an enthusiastic greeting, waving. Sasuke freezes on approach, staring his usual blank stare. He blinks, expression shifting ever so slightly to surprise. Well, as surprised as someone as cool as Sasuke can be.

“Hello!” What were the chances of running into Sasuke outside of school hours? Practically zero. Ino would have a fit.

Saskue about-faces and walks in the opposite direction.

“Wait!” She starts to follow as the other quickly disappears into the trees encircling the training grounds.

“Do you want to train…” She hesitates, slowing, “with me…?”

Does she want Sasuke to see her huffing and puffing as she tries to make it past her tenth lap of the field? Her stamina is less than impressive and Sasuke always placed in her class’s top three when it came to combat and physical ability. She stops following. No way was she letting Sasuke see her like this.

If Kako was right, and she usually was, she would start seeing a physical improvement in another weeks time.

She pouts, trying not to feel too unmotivated.  Maybe…hopefully, she’ll see Sasuke out here again and ask to train then? Then she wouldn’t be a total embarrassment. Yes, a prefect plan. She resumes her exercises. Before Kako had come along, catching up to Sasuke would have seemed like an insurmountable task. Now Sakura’s seen what a real shinobi is capable of and said shinobi believes she is capable of the same things, it doesn’t seem as impossible. Goal reaffirmed, she tackles the rest of the morning with renewed energy.

...

Her day progresses as per usual. Sakura sits in class, takes notes, and revises on past topics when Iruka deviates between teaching and crowd control. When lunch break starts, she takes it as an opportunity to sit around the side of the building and examine her sealing notes. Away from her noisy peers, she has a chance to sort through all the stuff she’s been learning and figure out what questions she wants to ask Kako in those few hours they have together in the afternoon.

“Why do these seals use a bunch of descriptive kanji while this one is just a collection of stylistic lines?”

She mutters to herself, scanning the copies of Kako’s seal and her copies of Iruka’s notes on storage scrolls. The storage scrolls are easy enough to understand. The symbols and lines follow a logical progression, building on the basics she’d learnt while studying explosive tags. Kako’s seal is different…very different. Instead of easy to follow connections between the function and kanji, Kako’s seal is a simple circle, spiral and tomoki. Nothing else…No hint at what the lines might mean.

….

...

/Seal is collapsed…simplified. Needs expanding./

Is Kako’s somewhat confusing answer. After spending most of her lunch, then the following lesson mulling the question over, this is less than satisfying.

“What do you mean by needs expanding?” There is a long pause and Sakura waits for Kako to find the right words and energy to talk. Kako could almost communicate in full sentences now but it was still somewhat stilted.

/Not the full seal…simplified…smaller./

Sakura frowns, staring at her desk. Strewn across it are piles of notes, several bottles of ink she’s been infusing with charkha, and blank sealing paper. She had been half asleep at the time but she vaguely recalls how, on the night of Kako’s arrival, the seal had been a lot bigger, stretching across almost all her visible skin. 

“You mean this is only a small part of the seal and there’s more that I can’t see.” A wave of warm encouragement has Sakura continuing, “No, it’s more than that…all the seal is here it’s just…. just smaller…symbolic of the larger seal.”

/Compressed./ There’s a warm swell of pride like she’s just understood some tricky concept Kako’s been trying to impart

“Well …then how do I study it? How do I un-compress it?”

/An expansion seal./

She groans, “So…I need another seal to look at this seal.”

/Hmmm./

“Let me guess: That’s complicated as well.”

/Basics first./

Sakura rests her head on the desk, sighing.

[howaminotinthestrokesyet]

Behind The Album: Load/Reload

Metallica’s sixth and seventh studio albums were released in June 1996 and November 1997 respectively. The two albums can be taken into consideration as almost a double album as most of the songs on each album were all written around the same time. The records would see the band venture completely away from thrash metal into the realm of hard rock, blues, southern rock, and even country. A majority of Metallica’s loyal fan base would be completely alienated by the album and the new Metallica image brought out during its promotion. James Hetfield and Lars Ulrich once again acted as the primary song writers for the record, which began at Ulrich’s house in California in 1994. They would bring in almost 30 demos to Plant Studios when recording began in 1995, so the decision was made to split it into two separate albums. The artist that influenced the songs on Load included Kyuss, Alice In Chains, Soundgarden, Primus, ZZ Top, Pantera, Corrosion of Conformity, Ted Nugent, Aerosmith, Oasis, Alanis Morissette, and Garth Brooks. Lars would have this to say about the criticism towards their new musical direction. “This album and what we're doing with it – that, to me, is what Metallica are all about: exploring different things. The minute you stop exploring, then just sit down and fucking die.” For this album, Hetfield and Kirk Hammett began to experiment with blues style riffs and guitar styles, while Ulrich began to simplify his drumming style getting rid of the double bass drumming he had utilized on every album to date. Hetfield’s lyrics abandoned any consideration of politics or society at large, but instead became very personal about his depression and sadness regarding his late mother and Cliff Burton. Other tracks focus on his own depression in dealing with these issues. Metallica was trying to gain a looser vibe with the music on this record, so Hammett for the first time on an album played rhythm guitar. For this record itself, the run time comes in at almost 80 minutes making it the longest LP the band ever produced. They needed to cut out one minute of the “Outlaw Torn” in order for the cd to play correctly without skipping. The back cover of this album had this explanation on it: “When we were doing the final sequencing of the 'LOAD' album, the record company told us that we couldn't go a second past 78:59, or your CD's wouldn't play without potentially skipping. With our 14 songs, we were running about 30 seconds over, and something had to give, so the cool-ass jam at the end of 'Outlaw' got chopped.”

The cover of the album was a photograph created by Andres Serrano that combines bovine blood and his own semen in between two sheets of plexiglass called Semen and blood III. The album does not specifically name the photograph, but instead only refers to the photographer's name. James Hetfield hated the use of this picture as the cover. He would say, “Lars and Kirk were very into abstract art, pretending they were gay. I think they knew it bugged me. It was a statement around all that. I love art, but not for the sake of shocking others. I think the cover of Load was just a piss-take around all that. I just went along with the make-up and all of this crazy, stupid crap that they felt they needed to do.” The album also saw Metallica remake its logo, an alternative symbol the ninja star, cut their long hair short, dress in designer clothes, and wear eyeliner. Once again, Hetfield absolutely despised these changes to their brand and image. “Lars and Kirk drove on those records. The whole 'We need to reinvent ourselves' topic was up. Image is not an evil thing for me, but if the image is not you, then it doesn't make much sense. I think they were really after a U2 kind of vibe, Bono doing his alter ego. I couldn't get into it. The whole, 'Okay, now in this photoshoot we're going to be '70s glam rockers.' Like, what? I would say half – at least half – the pictures that were to be in the booklet, I yanked out. The whole cover thing, it went against what I was feeling.” The backlash from their fans was significant as they felt completely betrayed by the band's new image. Years would pass before they would gain the trust of the diehard fans once again.

Load would represent a commercial success for the band as it stayed number one on the Billboard 200 chart for four weeks. And in its first week, the band moved 680,000 copies, making for the most successful week in the band's history. The record would go on to be certified as five times platinum selling 5 million copies. The critics were mixed on the album noting the change to hard rock. Rolling Stone liked the record. "The foursome dams the bombast and chugs half-speed ahead, settling into a wholly magnetizing groove that bridges old-school biker rock and the doomier side of post-grunge '90s rock.” Melody Maker was not as enthusiastic about the record saying that there were moments on the album where you needed to ask the question, has Metallica gone soft? AllMusic found the record to be boring, the same song over and over, and poorly played. Lars Ulrich would say this about the mixed reviews towards the album. "With Load, it was disappointing that some people's reaction to the music was biased by how they dealt with the pictures – the hair and all that crap. People have come up to me years afterwards and said, 'I never gave the record a fair chance because I couldn't get beyond Jason Newsted wearing eyeliner.' But 'The Outlaw Torn', some of that shit is pretty fucking awesome."

The follow up album Reload would be released in November 1997 with similar commercial success as it debuted at number one on the Billboard 200 chart selling 436,000 copies in its first week. This would be the last album that Jason Newsted would play on with the band. As noted previously, the original intention was to release the songs as a double album, but then it was decided that doing so many songs might have issues. Kirk Hammett would say this about the recording sessions with producer Bob Rock. “We were gonna do them both as a double album, but we didn't want to spend that long in the studio. Also, if we did a double album, it would have been a lot more material for people to digest, and some of it might have gotten lost in the shuffle." Reload became the first album that the band featured another singer as Marianne Faithfull lended her vocals to “The Memory Remains.” Once again, the band used a photograph from Andres Serrano mixing bovine blood and his semen. Critics for the most part liked the album, but they did note that the music seemed to be heavily influenced by southern rock. One of the big takeaways for some critics was the fact that Reload felt like the leftovers from the Load sessions. This also showed in the fact that the record was only certified platinum three times.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 3

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1       Part 2     Part 4     Part 5

Same day, later in the evening

“What are you doing, Pumpkin?” The Joker crawls next to you although he has an idea about why you look upset.

You’re on your tummy scribbling on a piece of paper and he can tell you are concentrating hard while working on the current project: writing down your name. Only got the first three letters then the rest went blank.

“I….I can’t think…” you intensely stare at the blue pen in between your fingers.

“Of course you can!” J reaches over so he can guide your arm since it’s clear you need help. “There you go… done. Now try to copy it bellow, alright?”

“Hm?”

“Try again Princess,” he taps on the sheet and watches Y/N struggling to imitate the word. “Well done!” The King of Gotham praises. “Wanna give it a shot with a few more simple words?”

“Mmmm…” you debate. “OK?...”

You analyze The Joker’s movements as he depicts four letter words, one of them getting your attention in particular.

“Love?” you smile, happy you deciphered the meaning.

“Yes, a basic…”

“Love?” you scoot over, more and more excited and it clicks for your boyfriend.

“It’s just an example for you to exercise and relearn how to write, understand? It doesn’t mean anything!”

You giggle and touch his nose with yours.

“Love!”

“No Pumpkin! I don’t love you, how did you get such atrocity from my note??!! It has no hidden meaning! I barely, from very afar, remotely, not even similar to love, sort of like you and that’s it!”

You snicker and quickly slide to grab the yellow teddy bear, whispering in its ear:

“Love.”

“Aren’t you listening Princess?? Don’t start fake rumors!!”

Still…Y/N lives on her own little planet and her damaged brain grasped a wonderful concept despite The Clown vehemently dismissing his actions.

“Serves me right for being supportive,” he grumbles and resorts to diversion, the best weapon against your new found logic.

“Wanna read to me?” he points at the pile of children’s books resting on the nightstand: they are the best to use in your present circumstance.

“… … Read?... ” you ask, confused.

“Here,” J picks a random publication and gives it to you.

Might as well fully take advantage.

“Spoil me!” he buries his cheeks in your cleavage, guiding your free hand towards his green locks.

You never figured out how he doesn’t suffocate with his face glued to your skin; sometimes he sleeps like that for hours. Must be a special talent.

“The … ummm… the…. The duck…” you read the first page and massage his scalp, frowning at the words you can’t make sense of. “Cross… … crossed?...”  

“Yeah,” The Joker’s mumbled voice agrees.

“… the… g-glass…” you stutter at the sentence.

“Grass,” J corrects you.

“Hm?...”

“Grass Pumpkin, not glass.”

“Ummm… grass…” you continue to read the best way you can and he rectifies your errors until no more sounds emerge: The King is softly purring, a clear indication he’s dreaming.

You toss the book on the floor, fed up with the difficult task of organizing your thoughts; pampering him is better. You slowly tilt his head backwards so you can kiss him: The Joker frowns in his daze and you pinch his butt, chuckling.

“What is it?” he opens one eye and you pull down on his boxers. “Princess, we had sex an hour ago. Do you think I run on batteries?” the complaint is fast to follow.

... … … Batteries?... …                                            

You jump from the bed and stump to the closet, fumbling around for a couple of minutes before returning to a puzzled Clown.

You stretch the elastic of his underwear, dropping two batteries you snatched from the flashlight inside.

“How… how long do we w-wait?” you innocently ask.

The Joker bites his lip, attempting to contain himself yet he can’t: he bursts out laughing at your quirky solution while dragging you on top of him.

“You’re the funniest and smartest person I know, Pumpkin!” he cracks up, actually convinced he’s telling the truth. “Who’s my clever girl, huh?”

He’s talking about a girl again…What girl?...

Y/N peeks behind her and J reminds his baffled half:

“For God’s sake, Princess! I’m talking about you; you’re my girl! Can you get my phone?” he gestures at his mobile ringing by your pillow.

You give the cell to J, ignoring his conversation with Frost: you keep kissing him with the sole purpose of getting undivided affection.

“I guess Adam is here to pick up the cars you damaged,” he finally ends his chat. “Let’s go supervise the process. Don’t be disappointed, Pumpkin, we’ll have fun later. It’s your fault for destroying my collection!”

****************

The Joker watches his crew sweeping the concrete in the garage: broken glass, pieces of metal and debris scattered on the pavement after his vehicles were hauled inside huge trucks in order to be transported to Adam’s workshop for repairs.

“Thanks a lot, Y/N!” he growls, frustrated.

“Y-you’re welcome,” you serenely reply without a care in the universe.

“You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me, Princess!” he huffs at your indifference.

“Love,” you confess to the fluffy toy squished in your embrace.

“I heard that and it’s an aberration! Why do you keep persisting with this nonsense?! I’m literally stating the opposite!” J admonishes but who’s listening to him?

Not Y/N.

“Nolan is texting me,” he changes subject. “He wants me to meet him at his warehouse to inspect the boxes of ammo for the deal. Will you accompany me?”

“Hm?”

“Car ride?” The King of Gotham simplifies his request.

“U-hum!” you nod, preparing to enter the purple Lamborghini which luckily wasn’t in the garage when you smashed J’s cars.

“Frost, if you see me parked up the street in the driving alley, don’t come investigate, got it? This woman’s been pestering me for extracurricular activities, might not make it inside the mansion.”

“Of course, sir!” Jonny finds it wise to consent to his boss’s rambling.

“Tell everyone: if the Lamborghini’s rockin’, don’t come knockin’!”

**************

You’re sitting on J’s lap, completely blocking the arrangements happening at the table: you’re more preoccupied with your game than whatever it is they are negotiating about.

“What are you playing, Y/N?” Nolan curiously inquires because your thumbs are surely moving at a crazy speed on your cell’s screen.

“Hm?” you stop and gaze his way.

“What are you playing?” the man repeats.

“Mmmmm… Tetrixx Bricks.”

“What level are you on?” Nolan leans over, his eyes getting big at the revelation. “Holy shit, Y/N! How did you make it this far??! I’ve been striving to pass level 98 for a month!”

“She’s smart, that’s how!” your boyfriend sassily underlines.

“Do you think that you can help me?” the guy slides his phone in front of you.

“I’m sorry, is this a gaming party or a business matter?!” The Joker scoffs.

“Well, we’re pretty much done: we accepted the terms, we just have to move the merchandise in the morning.”

You are already matching the colorful blocks on Nolan’s game, his face ecstatic when the obnoxious song announces with great fanfare: “Level Up!”

“Holy cow!!!!” he shouts and you return his phone. “Thank you!”

“Hey Y/N,” one of the mobster’s henchmen dares to voice his demand. “Would you help me too? I’m stuck on level 76.”

“I’m dead on 105,” another goon mumbles under his breath, stepping in the line forming to your left.

J would normally cut off this useless waste of his precious time yet he can’t deny the gratification building up in his heart: heavens knows how it feels to be trapped inside your own mind and his girl has definitely battled unimaginable odds to be where she’s at right now.

Living with cognitive impairment is not easy, but she’s still here and it beats the alternative.

“Good job, Pumpkin!” The Clown boasts at the long string of cell phones parading through your fingers while you aid Nolan’s team leveling up on Tetrixx Bricks.

And somehow his hands are holding you tighter, not even bored with the random outcome of his meeting.

**************

You escaped on the terrace for a break and J is discussing the last details with your host: tomorrow you have a routine checkup, thus he has to wrap it up soon.

“Out of my way, half-wit!” Derek aka Nolan’s oldest son pushes you. Would he have done it if you were the same individual from almost a year ago? Nope. Apparently he believes he’s entitled to take advantage of Y/N since she’s alone outside.

“Why did Mister Joker bring you anyway?” he lights up a cigarette, annoyed. “Stupid monosyllabic bitch!” he ogles your summer dress, swiftly lifting it. “Are you wearing diapers?” he chuckles as you walk backwards, trying to process what he’s throwing at you. “Come on, show me!” he approaches and carefully scouts the premises to ensure you two don’t have company.

Perhaps the neurons in your brain are overcharged for the moment; nevertheless, they warn of imminent altercation: the dude’s a total douchebag.

“Are you shy?” Derek grins. “C’mon, lemme see!! Oooohh…fuuuuck…” he bends over in pain when your knee unexpectedly kicks him in the crotch: you used all your strength and he drops down, curling up in a ball. “God…dammit!” Derek shrieks at the defense he didn’t anticipate.

“I…I’m not wearing diapers!” you stammer and because he landed on the edge of the pool you roll him in the water also.

The loud splash makes The Joker wave at you, glad he eventually found you: he’s been searching around the warehouse for the last 5 minutes.

“There you are! Quit playing around, Pumpkin; we have a swimming pool at home!”

You rush by his side eager to bail before the asshole pops up from the bottom of the pond.

“Sushi for dinner?” J suggests and Y/N is not the type of individual to reject one of her favorite dishes.

“I…I love sushi,” you smile elbowing him. “Love.”

“Don’t start with me again!” The King barks at your obvious hint.

*************

“Are you eating the last piece?” he glares at your salmon roll.

“No,” you offer the treat to him. “You…you need it more,” Y/N verbalizes her concern regarding his well-being.

“Can’t disagree, Pumpkin. You exhausted me you naughty girl,” J pretends to be super tired. “What can I do? Princess wants, Princess gets,” he inhales, resigned.

You’re not focusing on his whining: frankly, your intellect has been challenged enough for today. You cuddle in his arms while he chews on his food and watch TV without paying attention to the movie.

“Don’t forget tomorrow morning you have your doctor’s appointment,” J mentions. “I have to stay and wait for the guns I purchased from Nolan; you’ll have to manage without me. I’ll send an escort, deal?”

“U-hum.”

“Don’t yawn, Pumpkin. I’m the one that should yawn,” The Joker scratches his thigh. “This move sucks,” he pouts and turns off the TV. “I have a better idea,” he chooses a kid’s book from the stack. “Read to me.”

You open the textbook and although your brain is overwhelmed, you still make an effort for his sake.

“Mmm… Rainy… sky… Skies?...”

“Yup,” he turns on his side and nuzzles in your hair.

“Float over…hmm… t-town…”, your voice echoes in the room, soothing a worn out Joker.

Strange he can’t properly rest unless you read to him: after all J barely, from very afar, remotely, not even similar to love, sort of likes you.

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[donotstopthisdebatenow]

V3 Prologue Replay 0.1- It’s Time to Wake Up

Well, guess this is happening now.

Hello there. I figured I might as well write down things I picked up on during my replays and discussions with others, as well as some translation issues I (and many others from what I’ve seen) have noticed throughout out the game, with some fun trivia along the way too. This is mainly for the sake of my own peace of mind than anything, as I haven’t properly went through the game chapter by chapter in order recently, and I mainly compared translation as bits and pieces than going through line by line.

I will be recording the game both in English and Japanese to compare the lines and comment on differences if they seem of worth to note, which honestly most of it isn’t given that in terms of adapting the language in a natural sounding way -as a localization- they did a pretty good job. Most issues seems to come from lack of communication between the team in terms of context of some lines, but that’s mostly on the management of the team and I don’t have the insider’s knowledge beyond knowing that they were given some characters/sections of the game to translate so I can’t exactly comment on what was going on there.

For the trivia bits, please do keep in mind that it is me being nitpicky as a translator myself, and that I’m only pointing those out as how I would personally prefer those to be translated but at the end of the day, it really does come down to preferences since they do communicate the main thing they are trying to relay and unlike context relevant errors that do in fact cause geniune harm to gameplay and player’s experience (ie. inconsistencies in translation making Trial 5 a confusing mess) they are more what it says on the tin- some extra info/context on things.

All that said, let’s start~

Here we start with a shortened version of the V3 promo we will see in trial 6, as well as the V3 opening. Before I move to the latter though, I do want to note that for the “This story is not over” part, the Japanese counterpart uses “物語は終わらない” which due to the verb tense has a heavier “This story won’t end” vibe, which Monokuma kept insisting on in trial 6 as well.

It is not a big thing but simply a nice touch with the bold claims they make throughout the game on how it will never end.

It is also worth touching on given that one commenter in trial 6 was saying that it’s been three years since last season, so it is a bold “come back” line by whoever the group running this season 53 is.

Beyond that, it is just a nice recap and I personally love how the music blends fairly well together.

Hello there, “Team Danganronpa”. Still love how this spoiler was staring at us in the face entire time.

For the actual opening Tsumugi having a red string (of their fates) at hand and Rantaro being the only one who becomes one with their shadow to have pink eyes open was a nice touch.

The character in that pink blinking eye that for some reason wasn’t translated is the kanji for “lie” (嘘) btw. Also nice touch with Kaede facing the culprits in that blink and you will miss it scene before they dissolve to letters.

Tsumugi and Rantaro being on top of the slot machine just like how Monokuma’s ‘throne’ is between their trial stands is nice too.

The opening, which was supposedly used in-game as show intro as well, having the meteorities and that talent suppressing machine for the Ultimate Hunt plotline is of worth noting too. It is easy to dismiss the Gofer Project plotline for us players now, but the show was genuinely going for that angle before Kokichi’s takeover, hence it is worth keeping in mind while going through first four chapters especially.

For the game name, this is sort of a dead horse at this point but ��Killing Harmony” rather than “Everyone’s [Mutual] Killing School Semester” was likely used due to character limit, so they had to get creative with an alternative subtitle. Character limit is a genuine issue translators face with especially with a language like Japanese and why we end up things like Yasuhiro telling us to call him Hiro or Korekiyo saying we can use Kiyo.

It is also interesting that they play the show intro twice in the prologue, one before and after their memories were altered by the flashback light, and given Monokuma when he appears later saying that this prologue was going on too long, it seems like whoever was in charge of that (supposedly Monophanie, if kubs indeed have their own AI, or the person using the avatar of said bear) messed up so they had that version aired unintentionally, hence having to go for an intro again later.

And now it’s time to wake up for one antenna girl.

If this part felt pretentious and weird to you when you first read it, don’t worry it is just usual “Kodaka trying to go purple prose except it comes off really awkward especially in English” and the translator chose to simplify a good chunk of it, going “yeah we ain’t doing that here” and I can respect that tbh.

But just for the sake of having it here: A more literal translation of that part would be “There is nothing here yet. No light, no sound. Nor my form or voice. Nobody knows who I am yet. Who I am? Who am I? I reach out a hand. A hand that doesn’t belong to anyone yet. To grasp my own existence- This is me. My name is Kaede Akamatsu. I finally recognized who I am. ...Nice to meet [you,] me. Miss protagonist of this crazy story.”

Again, a few things are just reworded to sound natural in English for the localization’s take, but if the line “Nice to meet... me” confused you before, that’s because translator went half way cutting out Kodaka waxing poetics on regaining consciousness, so taking off the subject in translation makes it sound weirder when she suddenly seems to start to talk to herself.

Also, the heavy protag framing with her and Shuichi honestly did more harm to the game than good, at this point. It would be better if they started off without that last line, as it would blend better with unreliable narrator we just happened to see events from the POV gimmick way better. Same goes for Demo having her, Hajime and Makoto sharing the “Protagonist Room” and how much hype they caused by actively pushing that angle. Part of that was preserving the twist, yes, but I also get why people do feel like it was meant as a “take that” as well.

It also did not help with people recognizing that we were playing as “side characters” the entire time as far as in-universe story plotted by this TDR was concerned too, since Kiibo was set to be the in game Naegi-expy protagonist of the season.

But enough of that for now, because we have a title card to tackle.

蘇る��高校級

I have to admit, revival probably was the best choice to use there as looking back now, there are a few things this is refering to-

1-) The simpler explanation of how they supposedly had their memories sealed, hence the “restoring/bringing back memories” meaning of 蘇る, which also means “reviving” the title of Ultimate in the Gofer Project plotline universe given how they were supposedly last survivors of the earth and

2-) How this is a revival of Danganronpa, going again with the fact that show stopped for three years/some people were awaiting for a new season for a while now, hence the resurrection/revival of Danganronpa and by extention, the concept of Ultimates by using that meaning of 蘇る in that way too. After all, “Ultimate” is really just “Best in X field amongst other highschoolers” title (as commonly fan-translated and iirc even made it to anime subs as “Super High School Level”), so having high schoolers who are given memories and the title to match with it is reviving that.

Finally out of the closet locker, and before we move on, I want to add another side note that when you invert the UI, pre first flashback light UI turns a familiar pink.

While one reading of this could be that this lie magenta being the inverted version hints at prologue being a lie, I personally take it as due to the inverted color being the one we see, it means the prologue has the “truth” than later parts, since in trial we have blue truth bullet changing color to become pink lie bullet theme, that the color they are inverted to being opposite of what they are simply makes more sense to me.

We will see when we return to this locker again later that our UI changed to yellow which inverts to blue, reverse of truth, which is especially poignant with Tsumugi’s later trial 6 comment on “if they will call fiction a lie, then all their actions and words were indeed all just lies, since they were performed based on things some people wrote, fiction, too.

It changing immediately after we are shown that first light simply felt too relevant to not tack this on here, but moving on-

A mood tbh

Poor girl, honestly. This is not even the only time she will end up hitting her head when we are done with prologue.

A bit of a short fuse there, but also fair.

That’s what we all would like to know too.

Imagine someone goes through the trouble of kidnapping you while you are on the way to school, and brings you to... another school you’ve never been to. It almost sounds funny if you ignore the small big fact that they are brought there to kill each other.

You tried, Kaede.

Also I forgot how much of the prologue was really just “Kaede causes herself physical pain while trying to calm down simulator” wow

Dun dun duun

Insert “Wow, Kaede comes out of her own closet AND brings hat boy out his closet too? Doing Arceus’ work, Kaede” joke.

Also hi, Shuichi.

This is honestly a weird way to phrase it, as what Kaede says is that it is “A boy dressed in a normal school uniform...” than emphasizing on Shuichi’s own normalness, in the Japanese version.

It is also the only line that has a slight change in both takes as in the second take, she says “A boy dressed in a bit weird school uniform...” which due to copy-paste and adjective being used to describe Shuichi than his clothing in the translation, it ends up being glossed over.

On the one hand, still funny. On the another hand, this kid is justifiably terrified...

“Buddy I need some context here I have no clue what’s going on”

“Oh yeah that happened”

Shuichi: Sees a girl in high school uniform, kidnapped by likely people older than them himself

Shuichi:

Shuichi: You are working with them aren’t you?!

10/10 detective work there hat boy. I know he is probably just still too scared to think straight, but it is still funny on hindsight.

That’s one way to calm someone

And both of their names are the same both takes too. Their way of referring to themselves (私 for Kaede, 僕 for Shuichi, which are both used in the Chapter 1 title as well) are same, as well as their general speech patterns too.

Damn, girl.

Also a nice time to point out that Shuichi spends a good chunk of prologue retake and chapter 1 doubting if they can really trust everyone, and it is good to see that he had same tendency to assume he is the only one facing something/that people around must be enemy unless he is explicitly told or shown that they are not.

It makes sense in the situation, really, especially with how Kaede being the one who opened the door to his locker, his experience is that this girl could be working for/with the ones who kidnapped him, but still worth mentioning.

A real flashback time-

Which is coming soon, because tumblr refuses to add more pictures to this post OTL

[finleyjayne]

Break A Leg

 {Chapter 1: Auditions}

Summary: After your accident, everything in your life changed. Your shared dream of being on Broadway with your best friend, Amanda, was over. But just because YOU don’t think you want the same things in life doesn’t mean that your friend won’t see through you. Taking matters into her own hands, you end up at an audition you’re sure that you’ll fail since SHIELD Theater Company is known the world over for typecasting. And you don’t fit any of your typical actress types. Little do you know that the company’s new writer - nihilistic, pessimistic, and resident drunk; Bucky Barnes- is looking for someone out of their normal choices.

Characters: Female Reader, OFC Best Friend, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, and all your other favorite Marvel Characters, hopefully in the long run it will end with a Bucky Barnes/Reader ship.

Series Warnings: Guys, this is based on my own experiences within the Acting community after gaining weight and height after an accident. There will be fat-shaming, mentions of eating disorders, unhealthy expectations, unhealthy coping mechanisms, also like bias based on looks.

A/N:this originally was inspired by @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ s follower celebration challenge. I was given the opportunity to use the text prompt “No fucks given, Next please.” Thank you Star! Thank you Thank you. Also a big thanks to the lovely @cavillanche​ for giving me a gentle nudge to write for myself and for being an amazing sounding board.

"Come oooooon, Y/N. I don't care if you don't want to go out. I haven't seen you in what feels like literal months. That's saying something since you know we LIVE together. I won't take no as an answer." Your best friend, Amanda, said as she flopped on top of you. 

Amanda burst into your bedroom this morning at way-to-fucking-early o'clock in the morning, on a warpath to get you to come out with her. It didn't matter to her that you were finally getting some sleep after working all-nighters for the last week. There was no way to ignore her either, her sunny personality and eager persistence would cause you to roll over in your grave if she wanted you to.

With a groan, you smothered your complaints behind a gasping wheeze. "Kay, Manda, where are we going?"

 She rolled off of you with a high-pitched squeal and used the momentum to pull you out of bed. "Yay! I have so much planned. I was talking to my manager about how well we used to work as a pair on stage. I may have mentioned how much I would kill to be the Penny to your Tracy. Or the Meg to your Christine. The Judy to your Betty. The Glinda to your Elphaba." Her words started to fade into background noise as she milled on about the parts you had once wanted to play together.

  The dream used to be that you both would move here, to New York, and play in all of the big theaters on Broadway together. Sadly, your broadway dreams were not as much of a reality as Amanda's were. And you were okay with that. You were thrilled for Amanda. Living vicariously through your best friend, helping her prepare for her shows while working as a Math tutor and Accountant for a local firm. 

   It didn't help that you weren't necessarily what people consider the typical standard of beauty. Standing just under six feet tall, a little plushy about the middle, and some nasty scar tissue leaving one of your legs in a constant state of ghostly paleness. Not that people notice since you tend to find yourself just as pale as the damaged tissue. After so many failed auditions, you figured your best life was lived outside of the theater. You were happy, and honestly, you are kinda glad that you are where you are.  

 "....So hurry up, I'll pick your outfit, we have an appointment with Rijah in half an hour." Amanda finished pushing you into the little cubical shower. When did she turn it on? Where are we going? Needless to say, you did what she asked and stuffed down your confusion, focusing on waking up more before you accompanied her to yet another one of her 'private' lessons with your pianist friend.

Thirty minutes later, you were dressed, primped, polished, and not all that much more awake. Amanda stuffed a binder of music into your hand as Elijah spread his copy over the lip of his pristinely kept upright. "You know this song, I think it will be perfect. A little overplayed, but with a fresh interpretation, they'll overlook it. All you have to do is sing. They are bound to cast you. I've worked with them before, and Director Rogers values skill over appearances. So we'll show them your ability, and he'll love you."

Looking at your rambling best friend, Your confusion amplifies. Your jaw cracks as you don't even try to stifle another yawn. You rub your eyes, not questioning her pushiness. "Uuuuhhhhh, okay?" You scan through the score, making note of the cut before looking to the triangular-shaped man sitting on the piano bench. Since you had already been taken through the typical vocal warm-ups by Amanda while she played dress up this morning. You smile at your expectant friend/accompanist. "Will you give me a playthrough with the melody line in it as a refresher, please, Rijah, Repeat, and I'll join you?" 

"Of course," He said sweetly with a nod, turning to the keys and playing. Quietly you hummed along, mentally noting which registers each phrase should be sung in. Where the notes would be stretched, what you would use to your advantage. The accompaniment was simple, repeated strummed chords like most modern musical use. It gives freedom rhythmically when it comes to melodies. You could have fun with the piece. Smiling to yourself, you open your mouth and join the simplified accompaniment on the repeat. 

When the second run-through finishes with a very extravagant arpeggiation. There is a moment of complete stillness as the resonance leaves the space. You are high on the feelings of intense emotion and absolute peace, yet somehow buzzing with unlocked energy. You miss this feeling, of connection with everything and nothing, The feeling of knowing that you did something right, it's heady, and it drives you to ask yourself why you ever stopped performing for a brief second. Amanda was always saying that she would drag you to an audition one of these days if you didn't get over yourself.

 You are knocked out of your musical high by Amanda's enthusiastic clapping. Elijah looks at you with a smirk, opens his mouth, and is swiftly cut off by your friend. "God, Y/N. They won't be able to stop themselves as soon as you open your mouth!" You smile at her very biased opinions. Before she can get any crazy ideas like dragging me along to more than just her sessions with Elijah, you place the binder the music into her hands, "Why don't we go over Take me or leave me? After all, this is your rehearsal time, I'm just here to help you."

Amanda gives you a devious smirk as she nods. "Sure. You heard the woman, 'Rijah." She sends him a sly wink that you are too tired to really read much into. He just nods with a conspiratory smile and spreads the music for the RENT song over the previous. 

"Whenever you are ready, ladies," He says when he's ready. Sighing internally, you place yourself back into your 'supportive friend' role, playing out the simplified blocking of Amanda's latest show. 

Before you even fully realize it, your hour with 'Rijah was over, and Amanda was pulling you into a nearby taxi to your next destination. "If you don't let me at least have a coffee, I will not be held accountable for my actions, Woman." You warn your best friend as you eye her. You were starting to worry that you would need to be more awake for whatever plans she had for the rest of the day, You were now to the point where you could see her scheming something, but were still too out of it to figure out what it was. 

She looked at you, trying to hide behind her mask of sickeningly-sweet innocence. I knew this look and all that it implied, and it worked to shake me into a slight panic of what she was walking me into. "I don't know what you mean, Y/N. I told you where we were going this morning, I promise this is the last stop before we can go home and you can sleep the rest of the night away. But if things go as I hope, we may have a repeat of this occasion sooner rather than later." The taxi pulls up at a building with a line heading out the door and around the corner. 

That's when it hits you; That promise that Amanda had made to you all those months ago about dragging you to an audition wasn't just one of those 'get moving your ass, or I'll move it for you' speeches to get you out of bed, she was going to do it. No, she wasn't going to do anything. Amanda had already done it. She had gotten you into an audition. 

You were suddenly wide awake. The knowledge that you were at an NYC Broadway audition, with your best friend hitting you like Celie's babies being alive in The Color Purple. It is unexpected but brought with it such excitement and fear all at once. You grasped onto Amanda's arm. "Amanda Jenivive Brendon, if this is some kind of joke, I don't know if I can forgive you. Please say this is not some kind of joke." The words are a desperate snarl. The hope pressing against your chest mixed with the fear that you jumped to incorrect conclusions was absolutely unbearable.

Amanda lets out a loving laugh before playfully scowling at you. "You really haven't been listening to a single thing I've said to you all day, have you?" The accusation was slightly bitter, but you knew she was laughing on the inside.

You squeeze her arm as your panic escalates. What am I going to do? How am I going to do this? What if they don't accept me just because of how I look? Shit, what am I going to do about a resume? Your vision blurs as you watch your best friend take your hand, leading you into the building past the line of girls and down a hallway to a dance studio styled room. 

She leads you to a table set before the long wall of mirrors where a cute little redhead sits. Taking out a binder and handing her two sets of papers, "Hey Wanda, It's good to see you. Is it standard issue today?" 

With a bright smile, Wanda accepts the papers. "Sure is Amanda, Do you need a copy of the company notes, or do you still know them by heart?" 

 Amanda chuckles before shaking her head, "I don't need a set, but you probably should give one to Y/N here, She could use the distraction of going through all the legal jargon while we wait."

Wanda's eyes grew wide as she turned to face you. "Y/N? As in 'shower singer Y/N'? Oh my Atlanta, Buck is going to lose his shit!" She jumps up and claps her hands. "I gotta go tell them!"  

Amanda's hand snaps out to stop the woman from leaving. "Hey, none of that. I want to see their surprise when they hear her, especially after Tony's last casting rant."  

Wanda immediately calms, her face splitting into a devious smirk. "OOOOooo, you are evil. I love it. Want me to film it for you?"

 "It's like you read my mind," Amanda says, turning to see your expression of confusion. "Y/N, hey, Y/N/N? You in there?" She snaps her fingers lightly in your face. "Come on, girl. Wanda here is the Stage Manager for the SHIELD Theater Company."  

"Wait, what?" Your voice cracks as your heart hammers even harder into your ribs. SHIELD Theater Company was one of the prominent troupes in New York. They were world-famous, they were the equivalent to The Royal Shakespeare Company in America. Were you at an audition for them? I thought you had to be part of a Union to even be considered for an audition with them!  

"Really, Y/N? Still not paying attention? Come on, let's take a seat, stretch a bit. before they put us through our paces." Her eyes are bright with amusement as she sticks your number on the left side of your dress.

"I'm sorry? In my defense, I have had a total of 8 hours of sleep in the last week. So not the point, though!" You follow her to a set of chairs in the room. At her reproachful glare, when your voice breaches into a louder panicked screech, you take a few breaths before continuing in a harried whisper. " I mean, how am I even here? I am not Unionized, I haven't paid my dues for months! I don't have-" Your internal concerns continue to pour out of your mouth as Amanda slams her palm over your mouth. 

 "Hey, take a deep breath for me, Y/N. I need you to stay conscious... maybe I should have gotten you a coffee before we came, but you always complain that it makes your vocals all gummy." You rip her hand off of your mouth, eyes flashing with annoyance.

"Hey, you're the one who woke me from my first decent sleep this week, you can't really blame me for being a little lack-of-sleep drunk. And Coffee does make me phlegmy, but, again, that is not the point. The point is now that I know what you've set up, how can it be possible?" You whisper scream at the aggravatingly calm Amanda.

 She rolled her eyes, "Well, I told you I was going to make our dreams come true, and I have had enough of your lame excuses about how you don't want to get back on the horse. But I saw you today. You WANT to be here. I've seen your secret tears when you go over our old cast photos. I hear you belting in the shower, so I've taken it upon myself to continue paying your dues to the AEA, and cashed in a favor with my agent to sign both of us up for this particular call."

 Before you could make a rebuttal, seven people walked into the room that had slowly filled with fifty or so women while you were distracted. A short brunette plants himself in the center of the mirrored wall as the others take seats next to Wanda behind the white foldable table.

 "Welcome, ladies, It is inspiring to see all of your beautiful faces. Before we start, I wanted to say a few words. First, thank you for taking the time to come and audition with us today.

"As you know, we only hold one set of auditions for the full season and look at that, all of you have made the initial cut for this season. Now it's time for the fine-tuning. Just know that even if you don't make it into our troupe this year, it's nothing personal. We have a specific set of personalities and abilities that we are looking for. If you don't make it this year with us, don't be afraid to come back next season. 

"Now, to kick off this lovely party, let's have you line up, no particular order." The man smirks, and you gasp as you realize who the cocky man is: Tony Stark. You were being lined up for your first NYC cattle call by the eccentric, theatrical genius Tony Stark. You didn't know whether to be honored or terrified. He had a notorious reputation as a type-caster, and the only type he favored was the short, petite woman. FUCK. 

Amanda dragged you into the line as she plastered a knowing smile on her face, "Just remember, sing. if you open your mouth, let that beautiful song sing from your heart." 

"Sure, whatever you say," you reply to her whispered reassurances, holding your head up high as the legendary man started down the line."No, No, Yes, Yes, Yes, Sorry, Sure, Yes. Not this time, sweets. No, Sorry, Yes, Yes, Yes... " And so on until he reached Amanda. "Miss Brandon, nice to see you again. I look forward to hearing your choices today." 

"Same to you, Mr. Stark, and I look forward to showing you my progress from last year."

"Good, good" His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her for another few seconds before skipping over you entirely, "yes, yes, yes, No…"

Well, it looks like you made it through the first cut, Amanda drags you back to where you left your purse and Amanda's backpack. She shares a conspiratory glance with Wanda, who just rolls her eyes. "Take a deep breath, then they'll start pulling us up in small groups to rotate through our song choices."

 "Amanda, I'm pretty sure you voodooed Stark into overlooking me." Amanda just laughs.

"Sure, whatever you wanna tell yourself. I think it was just you being here, it's fate." Now it's your turn to roll your eyes at your friend's everlasting optimism.

Once Stark finishes going down the line, he takes his place back front and center. "Okay, ladies, now it's time for the fun bit. I'm sure you were all smart cookies and gave Wanda your music cuts along with your resumes, so now it's time to put those voices to work. We'll call you up in trios. Wanda will read out your name and call number, Thor will wait for you to count out a tempo before playing for you. Wanda?" Stark calls out the woman before taking his seat behind the table. 

Wanda smiles brightly, calling out the first three people as the Hulking blond man stands from the table and makes his way to the piano. Wow, I hope I don't mess this up. It's not just my ass on the line anymore. You are brought back out of your thoughts by a gentle tug on your arm. 

"Stop overthinking things, you'll do fine, Your resume is prime, your song choice is brilliant, and like they couldn't choose someone more theatre conscious if they had hired Idina Menzel." 

You shudder at the actress's name, "I would hope so, she's terrible."

"Yet she had been a mainstay in theater for years." 

"So what, just goes to show people don't necessarily want talent. They want beautiful mutants who can screech out songs without killing their vocal cords."

"Y/N, Shut the fuck up. You can do the same things, you may not sing in a scream like she can, but you know how to sing, you can dance- don't give me that look I caught you practicing your fouettes last week- and more importantly, you can connect. You connect in everything, you have so much to offer, and I know that once these people hear you, they will hire you. I know it."

You sigh, you weren't sure that everything she was saying was true, but you knew that she believed the words with all of her heart and didn't want to be the reason her hope died. So you just sighed in resignation before turning to the group that was in the midst of their auditions. They were outstanding, and the longer you went on, the more self-conscious of your own lack of preparation. Subconsciously you reached out to grab Amanda's hand and ended up clutching onto her dress front.  

"Amanda, Amanda, I don't deserve to be here." Your hushed whisper, dragging harsh against your throat. Your chest tightening, your panic acting as a hangman's noose. "Amanda, I don't know what I'm singing. Amanda, what is it from? What is the song's name? How will I slate if I don't even know the name of the song? Wait, what is MY name? " Your breath started to tear through your lungs, your sinuses stung with oncoming tears. 

"Y/N, take a breath, let go before you give everyone an unexpected flash." Amanda's whispered reply was almost biting in its directness. Even if you consciously didn't hear the words, her tone cut the noose from your neck. Your lungs immediately expanded with much-needed air, your fingers loosening their grip to let her replace the fabric with her own firm grip. "Good girl, now, Y/N, what is your name?"

"Uhhhhhh…" Even if you were calming down, your brain was still coming back to grips.

"The next three are as follows: Y/N Y/L/N, Amanda Brendon, and Savannah Moffat." Wanda's lyric call cut through the silence that had filled the studio while you were trying to remember your name. 

You stood automatically, all your years of auditioning kicked you into performance autopilot. Your shoulders take their place slightly back, head high, chest on display, the skirt of your dress flowing around your thighs as if they were the mist rolling over the valley at dawn. Your face hid the horror that was filling your mind, it didn't matter that you didn't remember the name of your song, you were Y/N Y/L/N. You could fake it till you make it to perfection. Amanda was right, all you have to do is sing, and they will see you. It doesn't matter if you don't look like you used to, you are still capable, and even if you don't make it, you can't say that you didn't try. Just remember what Doctor Ellis said, 'every audition is a performance, even if they don't choose you, you were able to perform.' You can do this. After all, you sang it this morning, you could see the sheet music just behind your eyelids when you close your eyes. Just keep breathing.

Amanda gave your hand a final squeeze as she recognized the look of horrified determination in your eyes. Smiling to herself as she saw the bored looks on the panelists' faces. She met eyes with Wanda, who gave her a smirk nudging the blond man sandwiched between her and Tony. Turning his attention to your regal appearance before Tony also decided to look up from whatever was so important on his phone. 

You opened your mouth to introduce yourself, and Tony's voice filled the space clearly, saying the words that had shattered your own will to find your auditions.

"I'm sorry I must have missed you before. There is no need for you to sing today, collect your things."

Your face fell into an imitation of a polite smile as your brain processed the rejection. Guess Amanda really did save me from being culled. Before you can say or do anything, though, the blond man sitting next to Tony spoke.

"Tony, you had your chance. Now it's my turn to decide whether or not she is cast. Now sit down." 

"No, it isn't too late, Steve. I bankroll this group I get to have a say. And I won't have someone who looks like her representing my Acting Company."

"You already had your say. Now sit down and let the girl sing."

"No," Stark turns from the blond man and back to you. "No fucks given, Next, please."

 CHAPTER TWO

[loki-the-trikster-god]

clyde is me

i am clyde

we that does sounds gross. is it like cooked pasta that is frozen or not cooked pasta frozen? i don’t get the purpose of freezing either version though

the muffins are so good tbh i’m glad u enjoyed hehe

oh oki i thought it was literal for a second like-

ikr if people think i’m the maximum intelligence then humanity really is doomed

asdf ikr. science is like so interesting on the magic school bus but i want to die during science class. just another example of how fucked up society is

literally tho everything sucks more when it’s virtual

except for procrastination, because at home i have tumblr, it’s blocked at school

gasp a win win scenario murder is now encouraged as long as all utensils are cleaned afterwards

mental note: get a sword

hehe ty. my hair is overly thick like if i grow it even a little long i get a massive headache

hehe some books are good (i have the best ones in real copies so that’s pretty good too)

idk if it’s a saying but it’s weird either way.

homework sucks. not that i have too much (actually i have a lot what am i saying?) but it still sucks.

ooh u seem to be into medieval... and ballad stuff

sounds interesting. ahahaha it’s pretty solid reasoning i love it

it sounds so mature compared to my favourite book which is called the extraordinaries by t j klune and is literally 400 pages of gay superheroes, and gay sex jokes. it’s fricking hilarious i can’t read it in public or else i’ll start laughing too hard that ill get weird stares (i speak from experience)

oh definitely duel them to death. or u know roast them really badly that works too. gunshots are too loud and too messy. knives... eh flying daggers are badass but slitting throats are messy too. duel to the death sounds efficient and it’s a challenge and who doesn’t love those?

hm. questionnnnn: what’s ur favourite hobby? besides writing and reading.

asdfhjk ikr they even had to like sexualize her and make her all skinny and stuff bc “that is what girls are supposed to look like”. i didn’t see this while watching it but i bet they gave her breasts too (breasts is a weird word) and i bet she’s wearing a dress. seriously tho. like u said, they are fricking mountains!!!

anyways. clyde, out

until next time :)

Clyde is you! And cecil is me.

Sorry it’s taking so god damn long for me to respond to these - I promise I’m not ignoring you or anything it’s just a mixture of executive dysfunction and school. :(

It’s like frozen and then you cook it and it’s like normal pasta except lamer. I miss vegetables.

Muffins are important

The other day I forgot my own name when asked so if I’m the pinnacle of intelligence then,,,,fuck.

God fuck society man. Also fuck school. In math today I got questions wrong cause I wasn’t supposed to reduce radicals so I got 9 and the answer was radical 81. And like,,,,,,,,, it said fully simplified. So fuck that. Anyhow,,,,

Boring classes are better for me online cause I can fool around instead of losing my mind so that’s a thing.

You should absolutely get a sword. Stab your enemies, seduce people, be awesome. Also extra ✨dramatic flare✨

Oof thick hair. V fluffy. Can I touch (it’s ok if i cant)

You can floof my hair it’s v floofable

Homework is the worst I am incapable of doing Things. I don’t have loads of it ever so that’s ok but it’s like rrrheg.

I am into medieval stuff and like ballads and stuff I’m an old poetry person. I once read the Canterbury tales in Middle English. It was so fun.

Your book is extremely valid I’d love to read it,,,,,, I’ll put it on the list. I would never think less of someone for reading a less “””mature””” book or liking less complicated things. People like what they like and there’s as much value in a good comic as there is in like Keats or some shit. And comics are more fun. Anyhow that’s my rant.

Alright! Seeing as I have your consent, I shall have at them! My sword is a little heavy for a dueling blade but fuck Josh I don’t really care. Proper dueling etiquette dictates that I must give him a days notice, so I shall be texting a warning in the group chat. (I’m joking btw I won’t stab my costar)

My favorite hobby,,,,,, besides reading and writing would be cello probably. I’m not serious about it but it’s really nice.

Mmmmmmmm yes get me them mountain tiddies /j

But seriously wtf. Chill out homies.

My question for you is: favorite weather

Until next time bro!

[skzhrs]

Bad Boy - Chan x Reader Smut AU

Switch!Chan, Fem!Reader, Degradation, Drinking, One Night Stand, 3.6k

Chan, AKA Chris Bang, is the playboy of the school. What happens when his goody two shoes desk partner, Y/N, manages to undo him?

You stare at the whiteboard, watching as your teacher makes dainty strokes of icy blue with her pen. The Expo marker leaves slick trails of color, the beryl hues weaving themselves into a mess of quadratic functions and systematic equations.

"So," she tsks, writing a simplified set of variables, "we get 3x after subtracting 7x from 10x, and then we have a slope we can use to-"

Everyone's heads gradually turn as the classroom door opens, and a broad shouldered boy with platinum blonde hair steps inside. His narrow eyes possess a mischievous glint, the edges of his paper thin lips tilted upwards in a snarky smirk. Stomping the muddy snow from his sneakers, Chris Bang lets the door swing shut behind him as he hands the teacher a tardy note.

"Hi, Chris," she says, less than pleased. "We're discussing functions and equations with three variables. Take out your notes, please."

"Alright," he bites his lip as he paces towards his seat in the back of the classroom.

"Actually," our teacher pipes up, "how about you sit up here? I want to make sure you take extra good notes to make up for what you missed." 

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you see the only empty spot in the front is the chair adjacent to yours. Your large desk that normally seats two is just half full. Chris glances at the teacher, then at you, and walks towards your space, placing his sagging black backpack on the desk.

"Much better," she smiles. "So, after eliminating 7x from the equation, we can see that we have a fairly easy equation left over: 3x equals 12x. After dividing both sides by 3, we can conclude that x is equal to 4."

Chris pulls out a tattered notebook, the cardboard cover ripped in places, and grabs a mechanical pencil from the spiral wires that barely keep the paper sheets together. He flips to a blank page while you scoot a bit closer to him. Although you have never had a serious infatuation with Chris Bang, his edgy sense of humor and stunning looks have always made you swoon. Just a little bit. You've never considered what it'd be like to really date him and you're pretty sure you wouldn't want that, but the idea of him just slamming you against the wall and melding your lips together, running his coarse fingertips over your bare skin, gave you chills.

"Okay," you murmur under your breath, pushing your notebook towards his. "You can copy my notes if you want."

"Thanks," he replies softly, his raspy voice still hoarse from a good night's sleep. Squeezing your legs together, you smile and try to contain the knot in your stomach. He's ethereal. 

He's crazy. He's a rebel. He makes the worst jokes at the worst times and he's all about partying and living life to the fullest. He's a bad student and overall a bad example.

And yet, he still fascinates you.

"Sure," you say, cheeks red. "If you need help, just ask me."

"Okay," he smiles in return. The way his eyes crinkle and the shape of his lips as they stretch across his teeth and how his skin folds mesmerizes you, and you find it hard to pull away from his enchanting gaze. But you do, focusing on your teacher.

"I'm going to pass out a page of problems for you and your partner to work on," she announces, pacing to her desk. Her heels click on the linoleum as she retrieves a stack of papers and hands one to each student. "You have the rest of the class period to do these. Anything that isn't completed by the end of class is homework."

You write your name on your assignment, and glance over at Chris, who has idly pulled out his phone. He scrolls through Instagram without a care in the world.

"Why were you late?" you ask daringly, and he looks at you. His eyes glimmer in the fluorescent lighting.

"Slept through my alarm," he shrugs, setting his phone down. "I stayed up pretty late last night."

"Doing what? Playing Fortnite?" You laugh through that last question.

"No," he rolls his eyes through a sarcastic smirk. "I was at a party."

"On a Thursday night?"

"It's never too early to party," he assures you. "I'm going to another one tonight, at Felix's house. You should come with."

"Maybe I will," you shoot back, a smile on your face. 

"You should," he repeats, edging closer. Your legs touch, and you can smell the faint aroma of mint and possibly alcohol on his breath. "It'll be fun."

"Wait," you shake your head, "are you hungover?"

"What? No, I hardly drank last night. Now that's reserved for Friday nights." You can barely tell if he's joking or not, but through your ecstasy and his intoxicating charm, you don't really care.

"Where's Felix's house?" you inquire, leaning against the desk.

"Oh shit, are you really gonna come?" His eyes widen at that.

"I might," you shrug, using your seemingly nonchalant attitude to hopefully convince him that, despite being the good kid who regularly gets good grades and has a good family and a good reputation, you can be daring when you need to be. You aren't 100% pure. For some reason, you want to prove that to Chris. You want to show Chris who you can be.

"Sweet, okay," he turns on his phone again and scrolls through a selection of apps before opening something. "It's at 328 Huckleberry Drive. Big beige house. White pillars on the porch."

"So, it's a mansion," you jeer.

"Pretty much," Chris shrugs. As his arms move, the sleeve of his jacket catches your pencil and pushes it onto the floor. "Oh, shit, sorry."

"It's fine," you assure him, bending down to grab the utensil. You pass uncomfortably close to his crotch, and as you grasp the pencil and return to a normal sitting position, your eyes skirt over his lower half.

And you definitely notice the tight bulge that threatens to poke through his denim jeans.

A wave of embarrassment cloaks your face in a bright shade of burgundy and you purse your lips, hurriedly looking away and staring at your paper.

Should you tell him? Does he even know?

"Uh," you murmur, awkward tension suffocating your lungs. "You've got a, uh, situation." You nod towards his groin. Chris glances down, and immediately crosses his legs.

"Hmm," he scoffs, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. "Would you look at that?"

"Trust me, I already saw it," you say, somewhat enjoying his embarrassment. Even if he tries to hide it, you can see he's flustered.

It's oddly cute.

"You wanna help me out?" Chris shoots a suggestive wink at you, wiggling his eyebrows. You shake your head with a lighthearted smile, nudging his shoulder.

"Very funny."

However, his expression doesn't falter. It takes you a moment before you realize he isn't joking. At least, he isn't fully joking.

"Wait," you close your eyes. Is this real? "Chris, we're in class, for God's sake."

"So you're not saying you don't want to-"

"Oh my God," you smirk. "Shut up. Maybe some other time." Like him, you are only half kidding.

Something is pulling you towards Chris Bang. A spark goes off when you're in his presence. And you love it.

The bell rings, and you stand, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. But before you leave the class, you feel Chris's veiny hand on your wrist and all of a sudden, his lips are brushing your ear.

"I really want you to come to the party tonight."

You pull away gently, staring at the lustful boy. A sly grin manifests itself on your face.

"We'll see."

***

Because Huckleberry Drive is just a few blocks away from your home, you choose to walk to the party. Wearing a silky, scarlet dress that brushes your knees, adorned with gemstones, you make your way to the address Chris gave you. Your silver heels clink on the sidewalk, as you follow the loud music wafting through the night sky. Even while putting on your makeup, you could faintly hear the sound of music blaring in the distance. 

You knew that the party was probably going to lead to...other things. And you weren't against it, by any means. While sitting with Chris in class, you felt something you hadn't felt in a long time. You wanted him. And his behavior suggested that he wanted you too.

So, you dolled yourself up. You wore the most elegant yet sexy shade of lipstick you owned. You wore luscious mascara and donned a layer of eyeliner and smoky eye shadow. You put on perfume, the tantalizing scent of rose filling the room.

And as you make your way to Felix's house, you feel a sudden burst of confidence overwhelm you. You're ready to slay at that party. You're ready to drop jaws. You're ready to show everyone who you can be.

And as you step into the mansion, feeling the music shake you to your core, and as you feel several pairs of eyes on you, drinking in your appearance, you smile to your self.

You're ecstatic.

"Hey," Felix beams, holding a red cup. "Didn't expect to see you here. And you look great!"

"Thanks," you smile. "I didn't expect to be here either. But a friend of mine convinced me to come."

"Ah, was it Chris? He's been talking about you nonstop." Felix takes a sip from his drink, sighing as he swallows the beverage.

"Has he?" You raise an eyebrow, amused.

"Yeah," he replies, a smirk growing on his face. "All good things. Trust me."

"Good to know," you say. "What are you drinking? Beer?"

"A bit," he shrugs. "Not drunk yet. I doubt I'll get drunk. Maybe buzzed, but not drunk. You want some?" Felix hands the frothy drink to you.

"Sure." You take it from his tiny hand and sip from the cup. By no means is it good. But it's invigorating. And so, you drink some more.

"Easy, easy," Felix grins. "This your first time drinking?"

"No," you reply truthfully. "I hold my alcohol pretty well."

"An admirable trait," he smiles. "I'll go get another drink. Feel free to keep that one."

"Thank you," you say as he smiles in return, disappearing into the raging crowd. You pace to the wall, standing near the hall as you drink. Soon enough, your cup is empty. And you can feel the alcohol pulsing in your veins. You're not drunk. But you aren't sober either.

"My God," you hear a familiar voice rasp. You turn, and see Chris gaping at your outfit, lips parted in awe. Smiling, you lean against the cream colored walls,

"Nice party," you beam, knowing that you're driving him crazy.

"Mm," he murmurs, stepping closer to you. His hands wrap around your hips, his touch tender. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

"Thanks, you too," you wink, prideful. He gazes into your eyes, occasionally glancing at your ruby lips.

"You know," he says quietly, gently guiding you to a sofa by the hallway door frame, "I could barely control myself during Algebra today."

"Oh yeah?" He sits down, never releasing his grip on your waist. You situate yourself on his thigh, feeling his jeans on your bare skin.

"Yep," he breathes out, breath shaky. He lowers his head, massaging your skin through your dress. "God. You're driving me crazy."

You smile to yourself. "Good." Readjusting your position, you slowly move on his leg, and watch as he bites his lip to suppress sound. You let your fingers dance across his shirt, moving up his neck until you grasp his jaw. "You like that?"

He exhales loudly, staring at the ceiling. "Keep doing that," he mutters, finally mustering the courage to face you. His eyes are glazed over with pleasure. "You look so pretty when you do that." His hand moves to your back and all of a sudden, you can feel Chris squeezing your ass. You yelp as he smiles, bringing your head to his collarbone. "So fucking pretty."

Your heart pounds as things heat up. Your dominating attitude has begun to fade as you grind onto his thigh, holding onto his arms and burying your face into his neck. Your need for more contact strengthens with every second.

"I-I," you falter, already losing your power of speech.

"Hmm?" Chris chuckles, tilting your head up with his fingers. "Use your words, babygirl."

"I need you," you finally gasp. He smiles, lifting you off of his lap and standing.

"Let's get out of here."

***

The second the car door closes, his lips are pressed to yours.

You haven't even left Felix's mansion, and yet you're already attached to Chris in a fiery embrace. Your mouth moves against his as you feel his hands slide up your thighs, cupping your ass before traveling around your hips.

Your kiss becomes more heated, and gradually gets deeper as you tug on the collar of his shirt. But as you do so, his hand slaps at your ass.

"Not yet," he growls, finally pulling away. You're breathless, lips numb from the sheer force of the kiss. "Wait until we get to my place."

You nod, panting. You buckle your seat belt while fixing your tousled hair, smoothing town your ruffled dress as Chris begins to drive.

Aching, you cross your legs. Desperate to find some pleasure. You can feel yourself growing hotter and more needy. You can feel your heart rate rising with excitement.

"Don't even think about touching yourself," Chris says without looking over at you. You glance at the boy and see his clenched knuckles on the steering wheel, and how desperate he is as well. A sense of pride washes over you.

You're undoing the biggest player in the school. Just with a kiss and a sexy dress.

After what feels like an eternity of controlling your urges to reach down and seek some pleasure, Chris pulls into a modest and thankfully empty driveway. You get out of the car with him, and both of you pace to the front door. He unlocks it deftly and the second you two are inside, he slams you against the door and begins to kiss you again.

His lips are rough and ruthless, and you moan lightly as you feel him grind against your sensitive area. As your lips part, you feel his tongue enter your mouth.

"F-Fuck," you gasp as Chris fixes his hands on your waist again and guides you towards the hallway. You step into a room, still enveloped in his embrace, that resembles a bedroom.

Pushing you onto a bed but keeping you in an upright position, Chris's hands teasingly play with your dress and the zipper on the back. You breathe against his lips as he pulls on the zipper. You shrug out of the dress, smiling to yourself when you remember that you didn't even wear a bra.

Chris stops as you pull your hair to the side, staring at him with a smirk. His eyes are wide, lips parted in awe, as he examines your chest.

"Fuck," he blinks, his fingers tracing your soft skin. He squeezes the left side of your chest and you inhale, closing the gap between your thighs in an attempt to ease the growing fire burning there.

"You're impatient," Chris raises an eyebrow. Damn you. He knows he's driving you crazy.

"Says the guy who wanted me to jack him off in- fuck!" You throw your head back as his tongue swirls around the buds of your breasts, sucking on your nipples. At this point, you're sick of him teasing you.

You grab his shirt and throw it over his head, pulling him closer to you. You grind on him as he moves up your chest, leaving bite marks trailing from your breasts to your chin. His lips suck on your neck feverishly as you shove your hand under his belt, palming his twitching member. He groans, pulling away and letting you remove his jeans.

"So," you murmur, thumbing his head through his thin boxers, "how long have you wanted to get in my pants?"

You enjoy how he squirms under your touch, how fucking desperate he gets when you're barely even touching him. Hypocritical bastard.

"A bit," he chokes out as you take off his boxers, letting his length extend fully. Idly wrapping your fingers around him, you feign an innocent look. Staring into his hooded eyes while you finally give him what he wanted in class.

"C'mon, Chris. Give me a number. Days? Weeks?"

"Weeks," he cries out as you squeeze his member. You hum in response as you lower your head, taking him in your mouth.

Swirling your tongue around him, feeling his spasms of pleasure, you remove your lips from him with a loud pop. "And you have the nerve to call me needy? Fuck, Chris. You're such a little bitch."

"Shut-shut the fu-fuck up-fuck!" You increase your speed, pumping your fist up and down while bobbing your head around him. You let him slam into the back of your throat, and you slap your tongue against his member.

Finally, as you begin to use one hand to reach for your lace underwear, Chris grabs your face and rips you away from him. With your cheeks in his palms, you stare up at him with wide eyes and swollen lips, droplets of precum and spit dribbling down your chin.

"Little slut," he tsks. Without warning, he jams a hand into your underwear, and before you know it, his finger is twirling around inside of you.

"Ah," you cry out, clenching around him. He smiles, beginning to kiss your neck while inserting a second finger.

"You're already moaning with just one finger," he murmurs while leaving love bites on your skin. "Your voice is gonna be gone by tomorrow."

Fine, you grit your teeth, feeling his thumb move around your slit. His third and final finger begins to stretch you out and you groan with a mixed feeling of pleasure and some pain.

Chris takes his fingers out of you, but before you can even catch your breath, he's moved from your neck to your core. His wet lips suck on your pulsating clit, sending bolts of frantic electricity through your body. He fucks you with his tongue, feeling up your walls, and you scream, hopelessly grinding on him. You've lost all of your pride at this point. You've given in to him. And you're ready for him to take you.

"Come on, baby girl," Chris teases, squeezing your thighs. "We haven't even gotten to the best part."

"Then take me there," you snap, breaths ragged. He smirks, reaching for his jeans strewn on the floor.

"As you wish."

Chris fumbles in his pocket and grabs a condom. He tears open the packaging and you help him put it on, brimming with nervous energy. You need him. Now.

Spreading out your legs, you feel his hands grip your hips, and his tip prods at your entrance.

"Just fucking do- ah!" Chris slams into you without warning, and you feel your walls tighten around his length. Even though you had gotten a good view of him, you hadn't realized how big he truly was until he was inside of you.

And with that, he goes at a relentless pace, the sound of skin clapping against skin filling the room. Your throat chokes up with wild moans, making you sound almost like a puppy.

Chris's moans are breathy and long. Through hooded eyes, you can see the sheen of sweat on his naked body. His eyes are closed, his jaw is set. He's trying to hold it together, just like you.

"Wanna," he growls, pushing deeper into you with every word, "fuck you so hard, you can't even fucking walk."

"Yes," you shriek, your breasts bouncing with every thrust he makes.

"My little babygirl," he groans, leaning closer to you without slowing down. He kisses your chest again and you latch onto his back, your nails gouging into his skin.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," you whisper frantically, humping his torso. Chris smiles against your skin and he places his hands parallel to your shoulders, staring into your eyes as he slams his entire length into you. Stars dot your vision as you scream into his ear.

"I'm gonna come," you squeal, closing your eyes as Chris passionately kisses you again, his fingers caressing your cheekbones.

"Me-me too," he grunts, his forehead pressed to yours. "Ah, shit!"

With one final and grand thrust, you feel him come undone in his condom. You hit your climax a few seconds later, your body convulsing with waves of pleasure.

Panting, you let Chris lay on top of you for a bit before he finally rolls into his back, stepping off of the bed. You notice his legs shaking as he disposes of the condom.

"You can stay the night here," he says softly, crawling back into bed and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Thank you," you reply, still catching your breath. "We should do this more often."

"Yeah," Chris smirks, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. "We should." With a light laugh, he moves his mouth to your ear and raises the pitch of his voice. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"

"Shut up," you laugh, turning to face Chris. He pulls you in for a long, mellow kiss.

"Sleep tight, babygirl."

***

i hope you guys enjoyed this!! 😩😉

[ask-de-writer]

DARING DO and THE GRYPHON’S QUEST! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 17 of 19

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

DARING DO

and

THE GRYPHON’S QUEST!

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

and

Carmen Pondiego

Cover art by Aranel the Cyborg, now  Wind the Mama Cat

29584 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 03/29/16

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

This is a Fan Fiction based on My Little Pony.  Canterlot, Princess Luna and the name Daring Do are owned by Hasboro Inc.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge.  I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.  

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Chapter 17. The Coward’s Weapon!

Daring Do was pleasantly surprised at just how good her half brother Blendin was at specimen preparation.  There was another surprise for her too.

Friend spent much of her time crooning to her Eagle eggs.  She did frequently leave her nest and lend her green magic to the task, usually greatly simplifying the work.  It was the greatest assistance at particularly difficult or delicate times in the preparation of the failed nymphs that she had loved so dearly and watched over for so many centuries.

Almost any time that they took a break from the arduous task before them, Friend would leave the eggs and nest protected by a nearly invisible glow of green magic.  She would take a place beside Daring Do and purr/croon softly.  Daring Do found real rest and comfort in the love that Friend shared with her.  She often rested her head against the changeling’s horn and shared thought and memory.

It was from that sharing that she learned something surprising about Friend. When her hive was attacked by war equipped and battle ready unicorns, Friend defended the hive’s precious eggs.  

She slaughtered ten of the enemy, literally tearing them to pieces in the defense of those eggs.  When her shared hive mind felt the Queen die, she went briefly berserk.  Four of the ten attacking unicorns that she killed fell in those few moments.

It was duty and love for the eggs that she tended that brought her back to something resembling sanity.  Taking all of the eggs that she could carry, she fled into the night.

The world outside of the hive was a strange and confusing place at first.  By luck alone, she found a long disused road that led to the mountains.  She did the best that she could but it was not enough.  One by one, she felt the spark of returned love die out of each of the eggs.  Her heart was torn asunder by the loss.

Daring Do knew the rest of the story.  What she did not know was the sheer depth of feeling that Friend had developed for her.  She meant it when she said that Daring Do was Matunen,  Hive Queen, in the ancient tongue of Early Middle Equestrian.

Friend was totally contented for the first time in ages.  That in no way interfered with any whit of her egg tending.

Blendin saw his half sister’s serene relaxation around Friend and was glad. The Apprentice Librarian of the Great Library in him was glad too.  He was learning things about conservation of irreplaceable delicate artifacts and relics that would apply to his work in the Great Library.  

Once everything was ready, he stared at the results of their work in wonder.  He had not only helped to prepare the whole foundation for the creation of an entire intelligent species, he had it and all of his half sister’s notes cataloged for the Great Library!

Together, they sent a note of their progress to the Empress.

The door, upon opening, showed the Empress, Grata, and Hisst, the Right Wing of the Imperial Throne.  The hallway was blocked by heavily armed Imperial Guards in full battle armor.

Daring Do was about to ask if such precautions were necessary when a loud, harsh voice from up the hallway demanded, “This is all Blasphemous!  Even if it were the truth and showed our  ancient roots, it would still be blasphemy!  The Holy Legends declare that Faith alone is sufficient and seeking truth beyond its holy pages undermines Faith!

“Whatever is here must be destroyed!”

The Empress responded, “What is about to be destroyed is YOU, Krapper!  You have fifteen seconds to be around the curve and out of OUR sight before I order my troops to open fire!”

“You would not dare!”

“Nine seconds left, Krapper.”

There was a clatter of claws on stone as the speaker retreated!

The Empress drew a deep breath, her crest showing disgust.  “The entire lot of First Creation Idiots want to destroy the only real history that our kind has.”

Friend spoke up, “Your Majesty, they are wrong.  This I/we know.  Before I/we loved the eggs that became the nymphs of your kind, I/we saw changelings.  I/we saw unicorns.  I/we saw Eagles. I/we saw pegassi.

“I/we helped matunen Daring Do and brother Blendin to be sure that these failed nymphs truly show how I/we loved the eggs that became the nymphs that are your kind.”

The Empress, crest showing deep thought, began tracing the development of her kind.  She was reading the placards set by each step of the way. Looking over to the true mother of her whole species, she asked, “Why did you go from pony to big cat for our hindquarters?”

Friend crowded over to point as she spoke.  “Not all big cat.  See how these bones go?  That is from the pegassus.  The head was carnivore, Eagle. The hindquarters had to eat meat too or fail.  I/we did see a lion in mountains once, close enough to feel its insides by loving it.  I/we used what I/we knew.”

Grata, crest rippling in laughter, exclaimed, “We are so lucky that she didn’t see a bear!”

After the fit of laughter passed around the room, the Empress asked, “How will this all be presented, Doctor Do?”

Daring Do sketched rapidly.  “The case, to be portable must be of stout woodwork.  The front viewing window should be made of glass that has been spell strengthened like a Magic Net mirror.”

The Empress nodded, crest showing some concern.  “You mentioned not risking the real relics and that is a good idea.  

“We have General Iron Hooves here with some of his munitions experts.  The team that they are consulting with is known to you, though we know that you do not like them much.

“V.I.L.E. Is here.  They have sent Carmen Pondiego, Baron Von Nighthoof, Marehem Skadefryd, and Kiros Asbhy.  I understand that they have also got a number of Agents here too.”

Crest smiling, the Empress went on, “I was warned to be sure that I still have both mandibles of my beak after dealing with them.  However, they will be absolutely honest with family.

“They have several missions.  One is being worked on now with General Ironhooves and his aides.  Another is to be the agency for creating your cases and making the copies for display.  I will be ordering twenty sets.”

Daring Do, looking doubtful, did agree, “I have to admit that when it comes to museum quality duplication, Mom’s company is unexcelled.”  

An all too familiar voice caroled from the doorway, “So sweet to hear you actually say something nice about my company!  Of course we are honest!  V.I.L.E. has never been caught or proved to be guilty of ANY crime at all!

“Suspicions?  Poof!  Suspicion and a cup of tea will get you anything from a nice Bergamont to bag of Lupton’s Worst!

Carmen Pondiego strutted into the room in her trademark porkpie hat and fire engine red dress.  She called over her shoulder, “General, Dear, would you please come in and see for yourself what my daughter found that is causing all this mess?”

General Ironhooves entered the door.  He was in his simple field uniform.

He tipped his Campaign Hat to the Empress and her Wings.  He approached the study tables, examining the relics with care.  He picked up Daring Do’s voluminous field notes and sketches, seeming to leaf through them, except that once in a while he stopped long enough to separate pages that stuck together.

He put down the books and turned to the Empress.  “Ma'am, you have chosen your battlefield perfectly. Better, you have the enemy in the sights of your artillery.

“I hope that it does not come to armed conflict, but if it does, after consulting with Carmen here, I think that you will have a LOT of surprises for them!”

Daring Do managed to look skeptical.  “Only them?”

Before Carmen could snark back, Marehem wandered in, right past the security detail.  He grinned.  “Helps to be a misfortune changel …”

His eyes bugged out.  It was the first time that Daring Do could remember that her uncle Marehem was caught totally off guard!

“An Egg-tender, HERE?  How did that happen?  How can she live without a hive?”

Friend looked up from serenely turning the eggs in the nest.  She smiled as she said, “Matunen Daring Do.”

Uncle M stopped like he’d hit a brick wall headfirst.  “Adora, Matunen?  A queen?”

The Empress nodded, crest rippling amusement.  “It hit us like that too, when we realized that Friend is OVER two thousand years old.  She was the sole survivor of a destroyed hive.

“Tending eggs kept her sane.  She is the Mother who loved an unstable and fatal hybridization into becoming our strong race.  I gather that for her, loving means something other than a simple feeling.”

Marehem got it together to say, “It sure does.  The eggs a queen lays are sort of neutral.  They will develop as random kinds of changelings.  Give them to an Egg-tender and tell her how many of which sort, worker, other egg-tenders, drones, even a queen, and that is what you will get. Their love is a very complex magic that no other kind can do.”

Daring Do, eyes twinkling, suggested, “Make the order for V.I.L.E. twenty one copies.  We will donate one to the Nightmare Wars Collection of the Royal Museum!”

General Ironhooves grinned hugely.  “You really want to shaft those First Creationists, don’t you?”

Daring Do simply said, “Yes.  They defile and deny the history that I have devoted my life to.”

Carmen pointed to the work tables and said, “Will you take a real compliment from your mother, Adora?  This, notes, restorations, preparation and all is a fantastic piece of work.

V.I.L.E. will duplicate it with the greatest of care.  With your permission, we will keep a copy for our own private museum.”

Mutely, Daring Do nodded.

She saw Uncle M talking to a Magic Net mirror and turning it to show everything.

Carmen pointed to an especially fragile relic and said, “Be especially careful of this one, Baron.”

One by one, the laboriously prepared relics, notes and all quietly vanished. General Ironhooves simply noted, “Handy trick, that!”

Daring Do, Friend, with her nest, and Blendin were brought to a large suite with an open airy feeling.  One Gryphon port was open enough for the Eagles to get in and out but not Gryphons.  The rooms were swarmed with Eagles.

Friend immediately shared that soft green magic of hers to include all of the waiting Eagles.  The way that they crowded close about the nest, it was clear that they had been waiting for Friend’s loving magic.  Several shuffled aside and one reached out a beak and snagged Daring Do’s tunic, making her join or get a torn tunic.  She joined the Eagles in luxuriating in the literal glow of Friend’s shared love.

After a few days of resting up, Rahak came by.  Crest at attention, he requested, “Doctor Do, master Blendin, would you come please?  The display copies are ready for examination.”

They followed the Wing Commander back down to the workroom.  There were twenty one large cases of fine solid woodwork, each faced by stout glass armored by a spell to the toughness of steel.  The contents were beautifully displayed to make the whole progression from hippogriff to Gryphon utterly clear.  Each item of the display had its explanatory placard.

Neatly done on each placard was an exact copy of a reference to the actual original Legend Document, with translation. After that part was a clear, simple note explaining the item.

Central to the whole display was Daring Do’s detailed sketch of the remains of the failed nymphs in place, as they were found.

The whole thing had such an impact that Daring Do’s breath drew in, in a way that she had heard so many times as a child riding her mother’s back in a knapsack, when her mother saw some beautiful thing that she was about to steal.

Turning to an equally awestruck Blendin, Daring Do said, “Tell Carmen that this is the best display preparation that I have ever seen.”

“Thank you, dear,” said a familiar voice.  A khaki colored unicorn mare in a form fitting fire engine red dress stepped out of the shadows.  Daring Do was shocked to see bags under her eyes.

Carmen Pondiego told her, “The General is sleeping now.  I have been working along with every agent that I have available.  I cannot tell you what we have been doing.  Imperial Security is involved.  I only hope that it has been enough to prevent the war.”

Rahak suggested, “Let us all prepare for this evening’s banquet.  That is when you will make your presentation, Doctor Do.”

Daring Do was looking around the Imperial Banquet Hall, at the many war banners that fluttered in the light breeze.  There were also the banners of the provinces of the Empire.  The wood and stonework was outstanding for its solidity and rich carving.

Perched on every place that they could find claw room were hundreds of Eagles, looking expectantly at Friend. Her nest had been placed conveniently close to Daring Do’s place.

The dining tables were all set so that every diner could see the big glass fronted case with its display. There were two  small books by each place.

One was a copy of the original document of the Legends, written some time shortly before 54 Post Nightmare Wars.  It had an exact copy of the document itself, a line by line literal translation and a third line in modern Gryphon with notes to explain the meaning of idioms used when the original was written.  No commentaries.  No editing.  Only a foreword explaining that this was a true copy of the Legends that they all revered and tried to follow.  Commentaries were dispensed with in the hope that the reader could understand what the words said and form their own opinions based on solid fact.

It was signed and sealed by the Empress herself.

The other small book contained copies of Daring Do’s expedition notes and sketches that were relevant to the display showing the origin of their species.

The First Created believers started to scream, “Blasphemy!”

The Empress herself cut them off.  “Silence, Krapper!  These are the Legends that you CLAIM to revere!”

“You have left out the rich and ancient commentaries!”

Her crest rippling with laughter, the Empress exclaimed, “Ancient? Krapper, the FIRST commentary was inserted into a small book like this only thirty five years ago!  It had a note that it WAS NOT HOLY WRIT, only opinion.  That note was removed and further commentaries added. More than half of the mass of your book has been added in just the last five years!

“It must be wonderful to be able to write up whatever you please, insert it into the next edition of your book and have it called HOLY WRIT!”

“Our Book is the true Law!  Holy Word is higher than mere secular law!”

“NO, Krapper!  That is direct sedition!  Guards!  Stand behind Krapper!  If he utters one more word of sedition, cut his wing tendons at once.  He will be given the LONG DROP at sunrise for the crime.”

The Empress paused for effect and added, “Now, we have a banquet laid before us.  Let not Krapper’s ill manners spoil your appetite.  After we have eaten, we will hear from Doctor Daring Do, whose actual facts, well documented and proven may provide you with much food for thought.”

The server placed a plate in front of Daring Do, commenting, “I hope that we got it to your taste.  It is a sauced alfalfa steak.  We don’t eat such fare, so we are not much used to cooking it.”

Daring Do replied with a smile, “I am sure that it will be fine.  You have been doing well the last few days.”

She cut a bite and began to chew.  Numbness spread from her mouth.  She gasped and could draw no air.  Her vision was fading slowly.

She heard, “The Blasphemer has been struck down!  Any means to strike at blasphemy is honorable, the Holy Writ is clear!”

The voice of the Empress cried, “Poison is the Coward’s Weapon!  Seize them!  Do not wait for the Long Drop!  Kill them now!”

The voice of Friend cut across the fading din, “No!  Matunen still has love.  I/we need them!  They will wish for your long drop!  I/we promise …”

Then no sight.  No sound.  No touch.  No taste.  Nothing …

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