#without any outside influence she's just like that. updating this thought though part 2.

[moe-broey]

Before I post anything else actually I have a VERY IMPORTANT PSA

(context, Alfonse and Sharena are Emblems here and it's a continuation of another goofy thing I made featuring them w this AU)

Transcript under cut!

Emblem AU

Sharena: "ALFONSE you ASSHOLE"

(scribbly and jagged "Huh?!" from Alfonse)

Sharena: "AS OF gen 7, Flareon AND Salazzle are the only fully evolved Fire Types who can't learn Solar Beam!!"

(Dialogue outside of talk bubbles) Alfonse: "DAMN it!! A grave oversight..." (BONK effect as Sharena punches him) "do you HATE women Alfonse?!" Alfonse "What!! No!!"

Alfred: "THIS is BLATANT Incineroar erasure!!!"

Céline, in rambling text: "also recent additions are Cinderace and interestingly enough Ceruledge -- its counterpart Armarouge can, meanwhile Ceruledge learns Solar Blade via move reminder"

Bullet point reads: *Physical counterpart to Solar Beam, introduced with Lurantis

[tuanhood]

35,000 ft

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: smut, angst, some fluff?, exes to lovers

warnings: 18+, language, dirty talk, cheating, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, public sex (mile high club ALERT)

word count: 9,800+

summary: two years have passed since you last saw your ex-boyfriend. when you’ve thought about running into him again, it certainly wasn’t at 35,000 ft and it certainly wasn’t like this. 

a/n: wow my longest one shot yet... UMMM it’s a little messy and all over the place but don’t hesitate to let me know what you think or if anyone wants to cry over the photos of Mark at home playing in the pool sMH. also i do not CONDONE cheating fyI 

part 2: 125 ft

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“Yes, yes, yes I’ll call you when I land…” You mumbled through the phone, half paying attention and half trying to decide which sandwich would best suit your needs. 

“Okay but seriously… call me. I hate it when you’re over there enough so not getting a call freaks me out even more.” 

You wanted to roll your eyes and gag, but you stopped yourself knowing that it wasn’t what a typical girlfriend would do when on the phone with her boyfriend. You two were supposed to still be in the honeymoon phase, not the “he gives me the ick” phase already. 

Then again, you had never even been in the “he gives me the ick” phase before. Yay for new experiences you guessed. 

“Brian, it’s so fine. It’s one of the safest cities in the world, I’ve been so many times I don’t even need a map to tell me where I’m going.” 

“I hope you still do though… Use a map. I don’t want you to get lost and I know that’s easy to do in those modern, technologically advanced smart cities.”

Being with Brian sometimes felt like there wasn’t even a fourth wave of feminism. 

You weren’t sure why you were sticking around. Part of you felt pressured because you hadn’t had any actual relationships in… well awhile and your mom was constantly asking when you were finally going to get a ring on your finger and give her a grandchild. 

Judging by all the outside influences that were currently controlling your life, it felt like maybe there isn’t a fourth wave of feminism. You were setting everyone back just based on your own sad life. Maybe it was best to just dump Brian and go back to your hook up days, the year and a half before him that was just endless amounts of sex with random guys trying to fix a piece of you that would never be put back together. 

“Y/n? Are you still there?” 

“Yup, still here Brian.” 

Even after being together for almost 6 months you couldn’t bring it in you to call him something besides his name. It was always Brian this, Brian that. Calling him a pet name made you cringe. 

Yeah… Maybe it was definitely time to break up with him. 

“Listen… I should go. I want to get something to eat before they start boarding since it’s a long one and all.” 

But you’ll just do it later. 

“Okay… sounds good. Get a small sandwich or something so you’ll feel full enough before they actually feed you on the plane.” 

Suddenly you didn’t want a sandwich. 

“Got it… Bye.” 

“Love you, bye.” 

You hear a noise letting you know the call has been disconnected and drop your hand, gripping the device at your side. 

That was another thing. Brian had told you only 3 months of dating that he loved you – to which you had responded with “oh wow… that’s- that’s… so nice of you.” Being the nice guy, he was completely fine with you not saying it back, because he felt so sure that one day you would. He understood that you had issues with a past relationship that you weren’t quite ready to let go of yet, therefore your heart wasn’t completely available. He felt with time you would give in and love him too. 

As of now you weren’t too sure… Especially if you did end up breaking up with him. At a later date and time of course. Maybe when you came back? 

Your mind went blank as you looked at the shelves of the poorly made airport food in front of you. The sandwiches that had once looked good and enticing suddenly lost their luster and the last thing you wanted to do was waste money on one. Sighing, you glanced back down at the phone in your hand. The object felt more like a heavy weight and a burden rather than just a phone. It wasn’t due to work or family; it was just all because of Brian. 

You’re startled when your phone comes to life once again under your gaze, buzzing softly. 

Brian. Remember don’t forget to text me when you board! 

It was like he had a sixth sense for whenever you were thinking of him. And to be honest it wasn’t that often. 

A couple of weeks ago you were out to lunch with a few friends from college and when updating those who you hadn’t seen in a while on the goings-on of your life, you had at first redacted the fact that you had a boyfriend completely. 

“Anyone romantic in your life?” Your friend Alice had asked you. 

Without thinking you had begun telling her how he was in game design and was from LA just like you, but soon cut yourself off before you could talk about how cute his dog was. That’s when you realized you weren’t talking about Brian. Brian was in fucking accounting, not game design and was 100% allergic to any kind of animal. When your friend asked about your love life, you had him in mind and not Brian even though so much time had gone by.

You were starting to believe that you weren’t ready for a relationship at all.

Sighing, you figured that maybe chips would be a better and less smelly option for the plane ride. Knowing yourself you would probably dig into them within the first thirty minutes of the thirteen-hour trip. 

You whip around to find wherever your newly desired snack choice could be when you catch a glimpse of someone out of the corner of your eye. The goosebumps that make their way to the surface of your skin and the hair on the back of your neck standing up so eagerly causes your entire body to freeze with fear. There was only one person who made you feel this way, one person who made your blood run cold. The person you had just indirectly been thinking of.

No, no it couldn’t be. 

You’re afraid to turn around, because more than anything you don’t want to be right. If you felt stressed thinking about Brian, you were going to have a panic attack from seeing him. Pivoting yourself to the left, you bite your lip anxiously unsure of how you’re supposed to react if you are right. Taking in the sight behind you, you’re met with a father and daughter selecting candy from the shelves of the store. The individual causing your anxiety nowhere in sight. Your entire body relaxes. 

The last thing you wanted was a fiasco in the international terminal at LAX. It certainly wouldn’t do you, your family and your company any good to make headlines. It especially wouldn’t have made Brian happy; he probably would have called you a hundred times in worry. 

“I can’t fucking believe it.” 

And just like that you’re snapped out of your daze, your false security vanished, goosebumps emerging once again. This time there were no questions. That voice. It was him. 

Turning back around you find yourself under the gaze of your ex-boyfriend. Your ex-boyfriend who you haven’t seen in over two years. 

You wish you could say that time hadn’t been good to Mark, but that would be a bold-faced lie. He had somehow become even more attractive in the last two years and the only real thing that seemed different about him was his hair color. The last time you had seen him he had been blonde, but now he had opted for a dark brown color. As much as you hated thinking it, it definitely suited him.

The last two years felt like a long blur of trying to forget him and everything or everyone associated with him. Those were of course difficult things to do, many of the people in your shared three-year life with Mark becoming some of your closest allies and the fact that Mark wasn’t an easy person to erase. Since the two of you met – even when you were just friends – you had a magnetic like pull to one another that couldn’t just be forgotten and dismissed. You were even feeling it right now after everything. 

He’s wearing a tight smile, almost as if he too can’t believe you’re standing here in front of him. It was as though you were the one inconveniencing him, when he had been the one to even say something to you. If you had seen him first, you would have turned around and ran the other way pretending like it never happened. For some reason he was willing to acknowledge you. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” his tight smile soon fades away and his voice is smooth as ice, a nonchalance to it that makes you question whether he even cares about this run in.

“Me either. Good to see you… Now if you’ll excuse me…” You replied pushing past him to continue your previous task of looking for chips. Much to your dislike, he follows you as you embark on one of the aisles, your eyes scanning the items placed out oh so carefully. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I’ve been? What I’ve been up to?” 

The last you had heard of Mark was that he had moved to Beijing after being given a position at a video game development company. At first you had been surprised at Mark taking a job overseas, he had always expressed to you how even over his own dead body he would never leave LA, but ultimately him in China relieved you. No longer did you have to avoid your favorite spots in the city for boba or the park bench where you got most of you best thinking done. You didn’t even have to be worried about getting invited to a party or dinner with a friend, wondering if Mark was going to show up. With Mark gone you could freely have your life back and not walk around with the fear of running into him. But you guessed that it could only have lasted so long before fate – as cruel as she was ��� brought you two together again. 

“No that’s okay. I’m good,” you go down another aisle, he still follows suit.

Where were those damn chips? 

“If you’re looking for the chips, they’re over there,” he said pointing behind you to the back wall in a location that you should have noticed sooner, “and if you want your favorite brand of salt & vinegar chips, they’re on the bottom shelf.”

Your stomach churned, he thought after all this time he would be able to still just know you like the back of his hand? What snack you’re looking for? What chips you like? No way. 

Wordlessly you march to the back and stare at the shelves in front of you. You felt your hand dangerously moving forward to the bottom to grab the salt & vinegar chips Mark mentioned, but you control yourself and pull back not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Instead you opt for plainly salted kettle chips. 

“Thanks… you’ve been a big help. See you never,” you scoffed turning around to face him and pushing past him to pay for your item, leaving Mark in the dust behind you. 

“What you’re not going to even pretend that it’s nice to see me?” 

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” you practically spat at him, the father and daughter from earlier staring at the two you, the father particularly appalled for your colorful choice of language. 

Mark’s silent and you turn back to the self-checkout to scan your chips, hopeful to not think about your ex-boyfriend for the next thirteen hours. He watches you carefully as you take out your wallet to pay and tap your card against the reader. It isn’t difficult for him to sense the tension in your body, he can see it just from you performing the simple and mundane task of paying. The worst part is that he knows he’s the cause. 

Grabbing your snack, you exit the small store and Mark follows you, grabbing your wrist, he tries again, “you could say something nice? Like you care? It’s been two years y/n… Can’t we just be normal people with each other?” 

At this you feel something in you snap, “I don’t care how much time has fucking passed Mark… I’m never going to get over you just completely throwing our relationship out the window. I can’t believe I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you… I was so fucking dumb to think you cared about me for even one minute. So, to answer your question… no we can’t just be normal people with each other. We were never normal people with each other to begin with.” 

The two of you had started off as friends, just friends. It was something new for Mark, being just friends with a girl and not having sex attached. Many people in your life warned you not to get close to him, that he was just a fuckboy who didn’t care about the emotional – it was only the physical with him. Ultimately you ignored him, becoming his friend and finding that you two just worked together. First you worked together as friends and soon you fell under his Mark Tuan spell, working together as lovers. 

Throughout your entire relationship you did your best to trust Mark, which you accomplished for the most part, but in the back of your head you would constantly hear the voices of everyone around you. You would hear the stories of the girls he had before you and how terribly he treated them, but you ignored it all. After a while you started to think of it all a little less, people even congratulating you on lasting so long with Mark – something that tended to annoy you. You knew that they didn’t see the Mark that you knew, the Mark that wanted to be something else for you, the best for you. Then after three years together, almost a month after your anniversary, you found out he had been with someone else. 

The old Mark had perhaps never truly vanished, but was just immensely good at hiding. 

Now here you were in front of him and you couldn’t tell who this Mark was. 

Mark scoffed, “you haven’t changed at all…” Now he was mad at you? “It’s probably better we just say goodbye here.” 

You rolled your eyes, “That’s what I’ve been trying to do this whole time.” 

He wanted to say more, but looking at how annoyed you were at merely being close to him, he let it go. It was hard for him to understand how he was feeling. He longed for you, but he also felt a lot of anger towards you that he wasn’t sure how to control. 

Both of you stare at one another, neither of you wanting to be the first one to walk off. Without a word, you both collect yourselves and assumedly prepare to embark on your respective gates. Mark gives you a final glance with his fists now clenched in frustration and turns to walk toward his flight. 

You realize he’s going the same direction as you and you follow awkwardly behind. After a moment – as if he can sense you’re still there – he turns around and scowls at you. 

“Why are you following me?” 

You snorted, the actual audacity of Mark Tuan. This is an airport for fuckssake, you can’t control where your flight is, “as if I would ever follow you! I’m going to my gate! I think the better question is why are you following me?”

“I’m going to my gate!” 

“Okay!” You yell a little too loud, “Okay!” he repeated, matching your volume. You can sense that people are starting to stare at the two of you for your truly unprompted yelling. 

Mark looks back at you once again, rolling his eyes. The two of you may have gates in the same area, but you can’t stand to look at him any longer – much less his back which you couldn’t help but notice has become much broader. Not that you would admit it to him… or anyone. 

You pick up your pace, passing Mark and causing him to trail behind. You expect him to say some snarky remark or rude comment when you go in front of him, but instead all you hear is an annoyed groan. It’s when you finally reach your gate and sit down in the waiting area that you feel Mark is no longer right behind you, but instead frozen in the main concourse, in front of the space you’re seated in. He feels his mouth go dry and he wants to scream. All he wants is to just be rid of you, to not be forced to think of you when you’re right in front of him. He wanted to wipe his brain clean. 

It suddenly dawns you on the reason why Mark is frozen as if he can’t comprehend what he’s seeing. You stand up abruptly, “this can’t be happening.” 

He snaps out of his trance with your words and comes closer to the gate, approaching where you’re seated. You’re just about to wave your hands, warning him not to come any closer when he huffs and sits down on a chair only few away from your own. 

“You’re going to Seoul?” He says it as if you being allowed in the Korean peninsula is a disgusting idea. 

“I’ve been traveling between LA and Seoul every 2 months for the last year and a half, so yes I am. Aren’t you supposed to be going to Beijing or something?”

He smirked, “I thought you didn’t care about what I was up to?” 

“I only care if it assures that you’re as far away from me as humanely possible.”

Your ex looks at his watch and at the screen of the gate alerting passengers that boarding would begin in a few minutes, “well since you’re so curious. I didn’t like Beijing, so I found a job in Seoul that I like much better. 

“Didn’t want to come back to LA?” 

He looks back to you and you almost wish he hadn’t, “there’s not really a lot left in LA for me anymore.” 

Both of you stare at one another for a moment, and you feel your stomach flip. Does he mean what I think he means? Your eyes drift down to your lap and you feel yourself pulling out your phone, not needing any more Mark. 

You manage to pass 10 minutes this way, aimlessly refreshing your emails and ignoring Brian’s latest text asking if you’ve boarded yet. Being so engrossed in your phone, you didn’t even notice Mark’s constant glances up at you, wondering what you were looking at or who you were talking to. 

There it is again, he thought to himself, Do I care? Do I not care? What the fuck, make up your mind dude. 

When the call for First-Class boarding comes to your dismay, both you and Mark stand up. You try to just tell yourself that it’s not important, you would probably both be seated aisles apart, not having to spend any more unwarranted time together. 

Even when you’re finally on the plane and find yourself behind him once again in the aisle, you tell yourself that this will be the last moment you have to see Mark Tuan. 

“Here’s your seat sir, can I get you any drinks or snacks before take-off?” the flight attendant asked Mark when she shows him his seat. He gives this shit eating grin that makes you want to slap it off his face, you couldn’t believe he was doing this in front of you. What? Did he think he was going to get to fuck the flight attendant as an extra First-Class amenity? 

“Ah no thank you, I’m fine for now, but I’ll let you know if anything changes,” you feel awkward standing in the aisle watching this unfold, especially since you can see the attendant is giving in, blush creeping up on her face from Mark’s smooth gaze. You clear your throat, reminding her that you too are there and she quickly turns to you, an apologetic look on her face. 

“And here's your seat Miss,” she graciously steps back to let you slide into your seat and you don’t move.

This had to be a joke. 

You looked from your seat, to Mark’s and then to the flight attendant. 

“I can’t sit here... I’m sorry but there has to be another seat available.” 

“I’m sorry ma’am, but there are no other openings in First Class. We only have seats available back in economy.” 

This couldn’t be happening. You had been saving all of your miles for a First-Class upgrade for forever, there was no way you were going to give it up, “Mark move to coach.” 

“Huh? Are you joking? My company paid for this; I’m not moving back there! You move!” 

How were you supposed to sit in front of Mark Tuan for the next thirteen hours? The man who had loved you so deeply, but also caused you the most pain. 

Just as people had stared at the two of you in the terminal, the other passengers in your surrounding area were also beginning to look. Maybe if the two of you got into one of your notorious screaming matches, someone would feel bad enough and offer to trade. You couldn’t do that to someone, you wouldn’t wish being stuck next to Mark Tuan on a long-haul flight on your worst enemy. Well… Mark was your worst enemy. 

Smiling, you turn back to the flight attendant, “It’s fine… I’ll just stay here. Thank you though.” She gives you a smile, but you can sense some annoyance behind her eyes. You can’t blame her. 

Mark looks at you wide eyed, previously caught up in organizing his space, but snapping out his activities when he hears your dismissal about moving seats, “uh… what are you doing? Are you seriously going to sit here?” 

“Yes Mark. Unlike you, I paid for my seat so I’m not moving anywhere.” 

He scoffed, “Fine.” 

“Fine!” 

-- 

hour one 

“Ma’am could you tell the gentleman in 3A to stop chewing so loudly?” You asked the flight attendant, putting on the sweetest voice possible. Mark was driving you up the wall and you were only an hour into the flight. 

It was almost as though you could hear every single cough, every shifting in his seat and it was all driving you up the wall. Just knowing he was there irked you.

The flight attendant looks clueless and as she opens her mouth slowly, unsure of how to respond. You hear Mark’s low voice grumble from behind you, also addressing the attendant, “uh ma’am can you tell the lady in 2A to mind her own business, pop a xanny and just go to sleep?” 

She clearly wasn’t expecting to deal with any difficult passengers this early on in a thirteen-hour flight. For her sake you wish you could deal with Mark and be more civil, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen. 

hour three 

“Y/n…” 

Be strong, you tell yourself, don’t look back, you can get through this.  

“Y/n?” 

It’s probably not important… He just wants to annoy you. 

“Y/n!” 

Screw being strong. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Being in semi-pods in First-Class it was difficult to just whip around and face Mark, to show him your annoyance under the lights beginning to dim. 

“Do you have any extra AirPods?” 

“Why the fuck would I just carry around extra Airpods around with me? Are you an idiot?” You sneered. 

“Jesus Christ I was just asking. You don’t have to be so vicious. Maybe someone should fuck the tension out of you,” he said, mumbling the last part. He says it so quietly and so half assed that you almost think that you misheard him. 

“Choke on a dick Mark,” you replied quietly, not wanting the other passengers to hear or disturb the few who had already drifted asleep. 

He scoffed, “maybe you should be.” 

You were wrong, the Mark that you had reunited with was just the same old fuckboy Mark who didn’t give a fuck about anyone. 

Placing your AirPods in your ears, you close your eyes and ignore the rest of Mark’s efforts to speak to you, just wanting nothing more than to fall asleep and wake up in your hotel room in Seoul. 

hour seven 

You pop your headphones out of your ears in frustration, feeling as though you hadn’t managed to get any real sleep during the hours that had passed. You look behind you to Mark’s seat, and feel relieved to see his eyes closed and a slow, shallow breath coming from his mouth. 

It felt weird to gaze at Mark and know you were no longer apart of his life. Sure, it had been two years, but you hadn’t seen  him or had to deal with the reality that there was now a separate you and a separate Mark. Two entities that had nothing to do with one another anymore. Although sometimes it felt like you were still anchored to him. 

Suddenly he shifted over onto his side, mumbling incoherent words in his sleep. The only thing you could make out was your own name. It made you feel uncomfortable, not because he was clearly dreaming about you, but you felt as though you were invading his private space, infiltrating an intimate moment. 

“y/n… please…” he mumbled. 

You felt like you’d heard enough. The flight was making you restless and you weren’t sure what you would do if you kept listening to Mark’s breathless calls for you. Standing up, you decide it’s probably best now to stretch and go to the bathroom, before you embark on your further slumber. 

When you finish up in the bathroom, you almost have a heart attack pulling back the door to be met with Mark’s tall figure.

“Oh my god you scared me,” you said placing your hand on your chest. You shake your head, stepping out of the bathroom with the door closing firmly behind you. Attempting to go back to your seat, you position yourself to move past him, but he moves along with you to keep you from leaving.

“What are you doing?” 

Mark doesn’t know what’s taken over him, he had woken up in a frenzy, his dreams not doing anything to help his mental state. He hadn’t dreamt about you in months, but of course as soon as you’re back in his life he has to have fantasies of you wrapped around him once again. It was torturous, especially with you only a few feet away from him. He dreamed about having you every way and any way, feeling like he was going crazy. When he saw you missing from your seat, he immediately got up almost as if in a sleep induced haze unable to control his actions.

"When are you going to stop pretending that you don’t want to be under me again?” he purred.

Your blood goes cold. Was he drunk? His words make you nervous, scared that someone could hear, but looking around the dark cabin it seemed as though everyone in First-Class was fast asleep. 

“Mark…” you begin, your tone clearly frustrated, but also weakening a bit, clearly evident that his words are affecting you. It had been so long since someone talked to you like this, and you felt that the hours you had spent on the plane already altering your sanity.

“You were always such a good girl for me, what changed? When did you become so stubborn? What happened to my girl who was always so willing and sweet?” 

“I was screwed over by an asshole, that’s what happened,” you mumbled trying to avert his gaze and prayed that maybe if you weren’t to look at him you could pretend that there wasn’t a part of you hanging on his every word. 

“That was in the past. I’ve changed now… But I’m still your boy. Even after two fucking years, I’m still yours.” 

You want to fight with him, say that if he was always your boy and still is then he would have never cheated on you. He would have never spent a night with someone else.  

“Let me fuck the anger out of you.” 

“What?” Okay he had to be drunk.

“You and I have too much sexual tension, and we’re both angry so let’s just fuck to relieve the tension.” 

“You’ve said some pretty fucking dumb things before, but this is… this is…” you drift unsure of what exactly you think it is. 

“A good idea?” 

“Mark I’m not having sex with you in an airplane bathroom.” 

“What? Like that’s bothered you before?” 

When you were with Mark, the two of you would have sex in the riskiest places, so you weren’t a stranger to the kind of sex where you could be caught at any moment, but you had never joined the mile-high club before. 

“We’re not together. I hate you and you hate me… for some reason.” You never understood why exactly Mark had been mad at you all of these years and acted as though you were the devil himself when he had been the one that ruined the two of you. Maybe it was because you hadn’t given him a second chance? Maybe it was from the influence of you hating him? Or maybe it was because you had never been enough for him, otherwise what would have caused him to spend the night with another woman? 

Mark clicked his tongue and it causes you to bring your attention to his mouth. It almost makes you lose focus completely. “So what if we’re not together anymore? Does that matter?” 

Does that matter? 

His words make you remember something. Something very important. 

Brian. 

“Yes, it matters. I-I have a boyfriend,” for some reason the word “boyfriend” seems to be hard to get out. It was always weird to associate Brian as your boyfriend or your “partner,” but saying it to Mark felt like the weight of a ton of bricks. 

In the dark lighting of the cabin you can just make out the frown that spreads across Mark’s face. Just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone and the cocky façade is back. 

“And that’s a problem?” your ex asked. 

As you’re about to protest and tell him that commitment in relationships is important to you, Mark reaches his hand out to rest on your bare shoulder, running it softly up and down your arms in a soothing pattern. It was a common gesture between the two of you, something Mark would constantly do whenever you were telling a story or the times you would fall asleep at night. It puts you at ease and you feel yourself close your eyes at his touch. 

Mark would be lying if he said the word “boyfriend” coming out of your mouth didn’t disappoint him. In fact, he felt a similar pain to the one he felt two years ago when you had broken up with him. Mark wasn’t daft, he knew what you thought of him – a player, a fuckboy and someone who never cared about you in the first place. It hurt him to know that you were just like everyone else around him who had a preconceived notion of who he was or what he did. At one point in time he thought you were different. 

But now looking at you and having you back in his life – even for only a thirteen-hour plane ride, he just wanted you back in his arms, back under his touch. He knew he should have felt guilty for not giving one fuck about this “boyfriend” you had acquired at some point during your two years apart, but he didn’t care. If he was going to have to be that cocky fuckboy who paid no mind to any consequences to get you, then so be it. 

“Come on… it’s been two years… let me feel that pussy that I’ve missed so so much,” he whispered seductively against the shell of your ear, “let me fuck into it so good, because I know no one’s filled it up so well since me. Especially not that boyfriend.” 

His words cause you to moan involuntarily and the noise awakens both you and him. You immediately shoot your hand up to cover your mouth, unsure of what’s getting into you. You were supposed to hate Mark, you had spent the last two years training yourself to hate him just in case a moment like this were ever to arise. But maybe that was an easier thing to imagine when you hadn’t seen him, because now with his hands gently caressing you and his request to be inside of you once again, you feel anything but hate. You feel want.

“Fuck Mark…” 

“Just say the word baby, and you have me,” he whispered, delicately placing an open mouth kiss on your wrist, slowly continuing up your arm. 

What were the pros and cons of this? If you were in any other difficult situation you would take a pause and list all of the good and bad things that could come from this. The big con was Brian… Even if you had been feeling strange about where your relationship with him was going and found him to be suffocating, you couldn’t do to him what Mark had done to you. Another negative factor emerged in your mind… you didn’t want to be put under Mark’s spell again, you couldn’t. Even being this close to him made you feel things that you had been trying to forget for two years, sleeping with him after all this time would only make it worse. That worried you. But judging on the primal way your body was reacting to Mark – your wet core being a clear sign – you knew this wasn’t going to be a logical decision where the cons outweigh the pros. 

“I-” you’re about to do it, you’re about to gain enough strength to tell him you don’t want him anymore, but when he pushes your hair away from where it lays on your shoulder and attaches his lips to the side of your neck, any willpower you had vanishing. His gentle sucking on the sweet spot of your neck that he knows oh too well causes you to let out a whimper and he smiles against your skin, knowing he has you. 

“Do it,” you mumbled, eyes still closed. 

Mark brings his lips back to your ear, “do what baby?” His cocky tone makes you want to roll you eyes. He had always done this – torture you until you were begging to feel his touch. 

You open your eyes and give yourself a moment to readjust to the dark lighting of the plane and focus on Mark’s face in the small space in front of the bathroom. You want to see his gaze when you make your non-logical decision.

“Fuck me.” 

The corner of his mouth turns upwards as he brings his arm forward and behind you to pull open the bathroom door, pushing you backwards into the cramped space. 

It’s when he’s pressed up against you and locks the door behind him that the reality of what you’re doing sets in. Just as you feel yourself get used to the harsh lighting, you freeze at Mark’s intense stare. 

“What are you looking at?” You asked. 

He smiled and glanced down at the floor shyly, then back up at you, “You.” 

For the first time since seeing him again at the airport store you feel those feelings in your stomach. No hate, no indifference and no bitterness towards Mark - not even just lust. Instead you felt a warmth for him that reminded you of the good days, not the bad ones. The swell in your heart worried you and you didn’t want to feel or dwell on it so you lean forward and kiss him.

Mark’s lips on yours doesn’t do anything to eliminate the softness you felt for him moments before, if anything it only intensifies it. It feels as though no time has passed for the two of you and the missing piece of the puzzle that you had been searching for has finally found its way back to you. 

A low growl comes from Mark’s throat and it sends your hands to find shelter in his hair. When you were together you had always had a weird thing for Mark’s hair. You loved running your fingers through it, gently massaging his scalp and tugging at the roots. Mark would always joke that you would probably break up with him if he ever shaved his head, which you didn’t exactly argue with. And now it just felt so good to have your hands where they belong. It’s almost as though Mark’s read your mind and he smiles against you lips when he feels your hands, “pull as hard as you want.” 

You feel his tongue at the seam of your lips, urging itself through to deepen the kiss and you tell yourself that it’s not too late, this can be the moment that you opt out for what a mistake this would be. With his hands drifting down from your hips to your ass, you feel yourself part your mouth voluntarily, realizing that you don’t want to stop this. You want to make this mistake; you want nothing more than to let him feel you and taste you even more. 

“I want to taste you so bad,” Mark whispered against your lips, “see if you taste as good as I remember.” 

You want that more than anything. Mark had always been so good with his tongue and just thinking about the hours he had spent between your thighs in the past made you even wetter than when you were having sex with Brian. Judging however, on the space you were both in, you didn’t know if it was physically possible. He can sense your hesitancy by the way your lips begin to still against his. 

He breaks apart from you and gently rubs his thumb along your jawline and lips, “don’t think too much.” In an instant Mark’s crouched down in the very small space in the bathroom and you immediately find yourself worried about his comfort level, “are you sure you’re okay?” 

He looked up at you, a dark look in his eyes and waved you off, “don’t worry about me babe, I’m about to have the best meal of my life.” At the end of his sentence he reaches up to the hem of your leggings and pulls them, along with your panties down in one sweep, pushing them aside. You’re almost surprised at his loftiness, but you remind yourself that it’s Mark. He moves a hand around to the back of your knee, hoisting one of your legs up onto the closed toilet seat, pushing the rest of your body up against the small sink counter. Although the space was already limited as it was, the position brought your core closer to his face and as you looked down to see the way his tongue stroked across his lips, you felt yourself already get lightheaded. 

He began with leaving open mouth kisses along the inside of your lifted thigh and another on the top of your pubic mound. It was enough to make you feel shaky, as though the one leg that was supporting your weight would give out at any moment. You found yourself unfazed, you knew Mark would be there to catch you if you fell. 

Mark leaned in further, his tongue delving between you folds to gather up as much of your wetness as he could, giving you a noisy taste that had him groaning, head pulling back and licking his lips after his first taste in two years.

“You taste even better than I remember, how the fuck could you get sweeter? I don’t even want to go back to my seat after tasting you, I could sit in this bathroom with my mouth on you till the end of the flight.” 

You found yourself wanting nothing more than to be stuck in this crammed bathroom with Mark for as long as you both could get away with. The person who was contemplating whether or not this was a bad idea didn’t even exist to you anymore. One lap of his tongue on you and you were reminded of all the ways he could make you fall apart. 

He tongued your clit slowly at first, every stroke almost teasing – as if he was making up for the years you two spent a part. His tongue would slip lower, working its way along your gushing entrance to remind you how much he relished your flavor before returning to your clit, the wet sounds of Mark’s sucking not even embarrassing to you. It was when Mark began to groan against you and swirl his tongue and suck that you felt your hands go back to his hair, roughly pulling him closer. 

“Mark, I-I can’t… I’m gonna – fuck,” you moaned out unable to form a functional and coherent thought. As you feel your orgasm on the horizon and just around the corner, you tug at Mark’s roots further, which encourages him to pick up the pace of his tongue, wanting you to cum on his face just like you had many times before. He wanted to drive you to the brink of pleasure, but he also wanted to prove to himself that he could still bring you to the edge with just his tongue.

Any delicacy he had been exhibiting before is completely gone, the way he laps at your clit and swirls his tongue around your sensitive bundle of nerves causes your chest to heave and sweat on your brow. You’re so caught up in Mark that you barely notice your foot beginning to slip from its security on the toilet. Mark swiftly acknowledges your pending loss of balance and tugs the leg up onto his shoulder, not removing himself from you for even a moment. 

You could feel yourself twitch and the arching of your hips towards his face, “come on baby I know how close you are, I need you to cum for me. Cum for me like all the times before, all over my face. I want it so bad.” 

Mark’s muffled words against you and the final groans he emits from how much he loves your taste is the last straw as you finally let go and the waves of release crash over you. He doesn’t give way as you buck yourself further into him one final time, his back practically hitting the wall of the bathroom. Your body comes down from your climax and you look to see Mark gratefully clean up the release he caused. When he takes his mouth away, you feel your core wavering against the emptiness and loss of warmth it had felt, almost as though it wanted Mark to be a permanent attachment to you. You’re breathless, head falling back to the mirror behind you as Mark stands up, wiping the back of his mouth and jawline which had become messy and shiny with your juices. 

“I knew you were still my little slut,” he pushes the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind you, “letting me have you in a fucking bathroom at 35,000 feet. How else will you let me have you?” He asked attaching his lips back to that spot on your neck. 

It dawns on you that there’s no winning. You once again are completely under the spell and at the mercy of Mark Tuan, willing to let him do whatever he wants to you. “M-Mark whatever you want.” At your response he simply smirked, quickly pulling his joggers and boxers down, his painfully hard cock slapping against his lower stomach. 

“Fuck I’ve been waiting so long to have you around me again. I never thought I would, and I’m going to make every second count.” 

He positions himself in between your legs, gripping your hips and pauses for a moment, clearly contemplating something. Mark hadn’t planned on having sex on the plane, nor did he plan on even seeing you again. 

“Mark if it’s about the condom, it’s fine… I don’t care, I’m still on the pill and I-I trust you.” 

At your trust in him, something he had so deeply been wanting all these years, he doesn’t hesitant another moment at placing himself at your entrance. His teasingly slow rubbing against your slit causes you to let out almost a growl at how much you needed him to be inside of you.

“How much do you want it y/n?” 

“So bad.” 

He pushes into you suddenly, “you’re still my cockslut, huh?” The feeling is too good and too great to answer him, but he’s not satisfied with your nonresponse.

“Answer me.” He sunk himself inside of you further and you do your best to let out the smallest and most inaudible “yes” you’ve ever heard, which thankfully seems to be enough for him. 

“God,” he groaned, “you’re still so tight.” He looks down at the space where your bodies meet, fixating his gaze at the visual of his cock slipping inside your sensitive and swollen folds. Mark waited for a moment for your pussy to get used to having him inside you again, to get reintroduced to his length and girth which it had been so accustomed to in the past. Despite the time that had passed, you felt no discomfort except for the mental discomfort in your head that just wanted him to fuck into you quickly and harshly. 

“Taking me so well, squeezing every inch of me. This pussy knows who it belongs to, who it deserves to be fucked by.” 

“M-Mark,” a final moan of his name is all it takes for him to begin his first real thrust into you, pulling himself out almost entirely. You feel so sensitive and overworked from your earlier orgasm that you aren’t sure how long you can last with the way your walls are clenching around Mark. 

His pace soon became brutal and you’re thankful the loud sound of the engine could cover up the whimpers coming from your mouth and the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Mark’s fingers press into your hips so firmly that you know there will be bruises that you’ll have to explain later, but for now the only thing you can focus on is how full Mark is making you feel. He removes his hand from your side and brings it down between the two of you, fixating on your clit, rubbing until it ached. It caused your body to clench on him further, the continual touch and his fucking into you making you roll your eyes into the back of your head. 

Mark groaned at how snug you felt and how deep you were taking him, his head falling into the crook of your neck and against the bathroom mirror, “whose are you?” 

You know what he wants you to say, but you don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, even in the heat of the moment. It could lead to misunderstandings and a more complex outcome than just that of having sex with him in a fucking airplane bathroom. 

“Whose are you?” He repeated, this time a little bit softer and removing his head from your shoulder to look at you with worrisome eyes. Mark knows that if you say you’re his it’d most likely be untrue, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to hear it one more time, even if it’s a complete and utter lie. He wants to know he has you, even if it’s for this one moment. 

“Yours, I’m all yours,” you breathe out. It comes out on its own, without any time for you to process or comprehend what you’re saying. It surprises you so much that you aren’t even sure if it’s a lie or not. 

That’s all he needed and he thrusts into you even harder, hitting the spot inside of you that makes you want to completely fall apart and combust. You’re too caught up in the pleasure of him ramming into you that you don’t even feel the pain that comes with your backside being continually pushed into small counter of the sink. 

“Cum for me baby, I’m close and I need us to do this together. It’s all I want,” Mark said. His tone perplexes you. It’s forceful and authoritative something that you were no stranger to when it came to sex with Mark, but there was a clear tenderness to it that had you second guessing everything. Maybe this wasn’t just sex. 

It’s one more strum of his cock against your g-spot and the pinching of your clit with his thumb and index finger that has you climaxing around him. The almost violent pulse from your pussy around him due to your orgasm has Mark following close behind, spilling himself deep inside of you. The ecstasy coursing through you causes your entire body to shake and twitch, wanting to collapse completely onto the bathroom floor. You fall against Mark’s body and in his own exhausted state he holds you close, protectively wrapping his arms around you making you feel secure. 

You should want to get out of the situation immediately as a one-time thing, but somehow you can’t bring it in you to remove yourself from his grasp. You felt at home with Mark’s arms around you and him still inside of you. It was a comfort a sense of normalcy you hadn’t felt with anyone since Mark. He softly strokes your hair, placing gentle kisses on the top of your head remembering how much you liked it after a tiring session of sex.

It feels as though no time has passed, but soon you find yourself out of Mark’s hold. He removes his now soft cock from you and you can feel yours and his cum leaking from your core, down to your thighs. It’s almost as though this movement has finally woken you up. You delicately collapse onto the toilet, making sure to take extra care with your now jelly-like legs. With your head in your hands in disbelief at the actions you had just willingly followed through on, Mark stares at you. 

“Fuck… I’m so mad at myself.”

With the small amount of space, he has, Mark shifts his weight from one foot to the other, “why? That was so fucking great.” 

You looked up at him in a scolding manner, he still had no perception of reality, but apparently now you were one and the same. “Because now I did the same thing to Brian that you did to me.”

There’s a pause and Mark avoids all eye contact with you. He had imagined this talk so many times – the talk the two of you never got to have and he really didn’t want it to be here, like this. But by some strike of luck, fate had brought you back to him, even for a short period of time and he may never get the opportunity to come clean again. 

Choosing to continue to avert your gaze, Mark sighs deeply and busies himself with pulling up his joggers. 

“I didn’t cheat on you.”  

You feel like ice and your whole body goes numb, “W-what?” 

He sighs again, looking down, “I never cheated on you.” 

You think there’s no way you could have heard him correctly. Your entire break up, the reason you ended your passionate love story with the one person you saw a future with came from his cheating. It couldn’t be a lie… Could it? 

One thing was for certain, you knew Mark so well and judging by the fidgeting and fiddling with his fingers you can tell you still do. And he was telling the truth. Your stomach flipped. 

“Then why did you let me believe that you did?”

“You were the only person in my life who didn’t believe all those stupid rumors about me, the only person who didn’t believe I was a fuckboy like everyone thought… but then the moment someone tells you they think they saw me with someone, you pack your bags. I figured you wouldn’t believe me, just like everyone else.”

It’s ridiculous. The words coming out of his mouth are ridiculous, but part of you understands what he’s saying. Maybe you had been too quick to judge, too quick to believe everyone else’s preconceived notions regarding your own boyfriend, but what were you supposed to do when he didn’t even defend himself? 

“You know… even after all this time, I still don’t know why I hated you. I really don’t know if it was because I thought you cheated or because you never went after me when I left.” 

Mark’s silent, and the weight of the situation continues to hit the two of you like a bus. Part of you feels betrayed by him. More betrayal then when you first heard the rumors. The two of you could have been together this whole time, saved each other from years of pain, sorrow and longing, but instead it’s almost as though he forced it upon you both.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Jesus fuck Mark we’re not Marianne and Connell from Normal People, we can talk to each other.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Who?” 

“I’ve been watching a lot of TV since we broke up.” 

There’s another silence between the two of you and in the small space it feels deafening and suffocating. You want nothing more than to go back to your seat and forget this even happened. Weirdly enough, the sex part you were fine with. It was this conversation that left you feeling like you couldn’t get a proper breath of air into your lungs, almost as if you were drowning. 

You take a piece of toilet paper from the roll beside you and use it to attempt to clean up the mess that had already begun drying on your legs. Mark watches you mindlessly, unsure of what to say himself. He knows he made a mistake from not telling you and effectively keeping the two of you apart, but every time he would reach for the phone to dial your number he would be reminded of the pain he felt and all the things you had called him that day. 

Everyone was right! Why didn’t I just fucking listen to them? Does a three year relationship mean nothing to you? I thought you changed… were different… but now I just feel like I wasted my time.

“I-I really don’t know what to say if I’m honest,” you finally stuttered out, grabbing your discarded leggings and pulling them on, “did you want me to leave you?”

Mark shakes his head vigorously, completely taken aback at you even thinking that, “no... Not at all... I just- it was complicated.”

“Right and you don’t do complicated. Got it.” You stand up and move to unlock the door, but Mark moves in front of you as he did earlier. 

“Y/n... Can we just talk about this? When we land can we just go to a cafe and talk about everything? I still- I mean... even after all this time I-” He begins, but you’re too scared to hear him finish the sentence.

“Mark we’ve had a lot of time to talk. Just please let me go back to my seat.” 

This time he makes no effort to stop you from leaving and you quickly slip out of the bathroom, fearful someone might see you. Luckily, everyone is still fast asleep and you walk back down the aisle to your seat wanting to forget about what Mark had said.  

You couldn’t deal with the what ifs, you couldn’t get lost in a fantasy of imagining that maybe you and Mark could be married already if he would have just said something. You couldn’t be that cruel to yourself.

After a few moments, you notice the bathroom occupied sign go away, signaling Mark’s arrival back to his seat. 

He knows he could just sit down and go back to sleep, falling back in to the way things were. But he had already not tried to go after you once before and he had been regretting it ever since. He had to say fuck that to all of the fears he had of being judged and put trust back into someone again. He wanted you.

Your eyes which had drifted closed soon shot open as you felt a movement at the side of your chair, turning to see Mark crouched down next you

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I already let go of you once, I’m not doing it again. If I have to spend the next,” he brings his watch up to look at the time, “six hours convincing you, then so be it. I’m not letting walk away from me this time.” At his final word he moves his hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear and goes to sit down. His eyes piercing into the back of your seat.

You felt Mark’s words, you felt them deeply in every part of you and it made you think that the Mark you love was still in there. 

Love.

You still loved him.

The beating of your heart made it difficult to fall asleep, but when you finally did you had a decision made and a smile on your face. 

[thewhitefluffyhat]

Thoughts on Karin’s Magical Girl Story

Another collection of thoughts and reactions, plus analyzing some small changes the NA translation made (similar to the translation comparison I did for Alina’s MGS a while back).

Starting off with not a change, but an interesting note: Karin and Alina’s club situation is rather strange.  Alina is the “outsider” from the Art Club, while Karin is part of the Manga Club.  The classroom they share, though, doesn’t appear to be the main space for either club.  I’d initially assumed that it was the room originally used for the Manga Club, but once Arc 2 updates these backgrounds...

It turns out this actually is an art classroom!  I guess the school just has two?

First major change: Just like in Alina’s MGS, they removed direct references to Karin and Alina’s ages.  The reference to Karin’s age at the start of the Magical Halloween Theater event was also changed.

(In JP here, Alina was said to have won a lot of different awards “for a 16 year old,” while Karin stated her age as 14 in the MHT event.)

Again, unsure of why the change, but it could be in order to fix the continuity issues. Because good lord, that continuity is snarled...

I think the order that makes the most sense is Karin MGS > Alina MGS > Magius forms > one year passes > MHT > Main Story Ch5 > Holy Alina’s MGS.  In theory, then Karin should be 13 and Alina should be 15 in their Magical Girl Stories and then 14 and 16 in the present, but as mentioned that’s contradicted by the start of Karin’s MGS in the original Japanese.

There’s also the weirdness around when/how Karin learned Alina was a magical girl, since Karin seems aware of it in MHT, yet it’s unclear if she knows in Holy Alina’s MGS.

… Anyway, stuff like this is why I gave up on constructing a coherent timeline for Magia Record.  There’s just too many continuity tangles.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

References to Karin being in her second year in middle school and the third years leaving – also changed.  Probably because it’s both an uncommon way to refer to grades in English, and also, once again, another continuity issue.  (If the third years left, why is Alina still there in one years’ time if she’s at least one grade ahead of Karin?)

Another change: some specifics in why Karin and Alina are in the same classroom together.  In JP, it’s not specified who made the deal to let Alina use the room.  If anything it seems like Karin is the one making a deal directly with Alina.

Which actually makes far more sense all around – why does “the school” care that Alina is giving informal lessons to some random kid?

And it makes more sense from Alina’s perspective too, in that it explains why she tolerates Karin constantly bothering her – putting up with Karin is explicitly the price she’s paying to Karin for using the space.

Oh boy, this.  Karin having this mindset is why it took me so long to really ship AliKari.  Because the dark undertone to “if only I improve, then surely Alina will treat me better” is that Karin is blaming herself when Alina is cruel to her.  And that can very easily slide into an abusive relationship - if you don’t consider it one already.

Alina treating Karin decently should not be dependent on Karin’s art skill.  Or anything else, for that matter.  Full stop.

(Tangent time, including some Arc 2 spoilers)

What ultimately made me come around to AliKari is some of the early Arc 2 stuff, where Karin starts thinking the reason Alina disappeared is because Alina is mad at Karin for not improving.  Karin’s explanation is spectacularly wrong, so I’m now more trusting that the game is implying that Karin’s mindset is going to change. That she’ll stop believing she’s at fault for Alina’s actions - and hopefully stand up to Alina too while she’s at it.

The other half of the equation is Alina, who as far as I can tell, is genuinely not interested in bullying Karin.  She certainly has every opportunity to do so – especially given how her teacher punishes Karin for Alina’s behavior – but Alina never takes advantage of it.  So while she is overly harsh and blunt about expressing her opinions to Karin, I don’t get the sense there is any manipulation underlying it.  Indeed, very unusually for Alina, we also never see her enjoying or fantasizing about Karin’s pain or distress.  She really, truly, just wants Karin to get better at art already!

Obviously, for any kind of relationship between the two to work, they would both need to undergo significant character development.  But that’s the draw of AliKari – while other characters have stagnated (sigh, RikaRen), Alina and Karin are still some of the most dynamic characters in the game. And in general, the direction has been that despite starting out in a bad place (like Karin’s mindset above), they’re growing to become very positive influences on each other.

(End tangent)

Enjoying the extra cliches thrown in here and there, and in general how they translated Karin’s dramatics by adding additional cheesy and on-theme descriptions.  Stuff like “dark and dreary night�� or “cauldron of trouble” aren’t in the original Japanese, but they’re wonderfully in-character – honestly probably an improvement over the original!

Not a change, but more reminding myself that I really need to read Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne.  I’m like 97% sure that’s what’s being referenced here – the plot description and even the comments Karin makes about “Phantom Thief Kirin” In her later Magic unlock quotes are all a very close match.

Interestingly enough, I’ve heard KKJ mentioned as an earlier dark magical girl series that Madoka Magica rips off.  So it’s quite interesting to see it referenced again back in a PMMM property – I wonder which part of the creative team was responsible for this detail?

Hm, so, the subject and detail of Karin and Alina’s conversation in the middle differs between translations.  In JP, the subject is vague, so the fan translation has Alina going off on an extended metaphor comparing the history of art to the protagonist of Karin’s manga.  Meanwhile, in NA she just makes vague comments comparing her own growth as an artist.  

I think I prefer the former - Alina usually doesn’t like talking about herself, but she sure loves to ramble about art history.

The translation I can find for the metaphor Karin’s grandmother uses here in JP renders it “barely able to keep a business going” - so did Karin’s grandmother possibly own a business herself?  That’s a bit more interesting than just “struggled to make ends meet.”

Speaking of Karin’s grandmother, I really like her as a character.  Her relationship with Karin is really sweet - I mean, how often do you see a teenage girl and an older woman being fans of something together?  It happens in real life plenty of times, but it’s so rare to see this kind of interaction represented in fiction.

And it’s nice to see an example of mental illness being treated as just that – an illness.  I especially like that there’s consent to the cure – Grandma outright says she wishes to be cured, rather than Karin deciding as such on her own.  (As Karin is often wont to do…)

This is a fun illustration of how Alina has a very strong internal logic to her, but she’s really terrible at communicating it to other people.

Karin, naturally, takes Alina’s comment here as an exceptionally mean thing to say – it sounds like Alina is callously implying the thing Karin worked so hard on was so bad it wasn’t even worth Alina’s time to destroy, so she’s making Karin suffer even more in having to destroy it herself.

And the way Alina elaborates makes it quite clear that yes, she did mean to call Karin’s work garbage.  This isn’t Alina having difficulty with Japanese or English.

But while Alina’s sense of taste can be quite sadistic, I don’t think that’s what she was aiming for here.  Remember that Alina believes that “only the artist themselves has the right to destroy their work.”  So this is actually Alina acknowledging Karin’s work as art, and therefore only Karin has the right to rip it up.

And why rip it up?  Because whenever Alina finds her own work unsatisfactory, she destroys it.  Hence Alina’s question at the end of this little back-and-forth:

If Karin doesn’t want to rip up her manga, then according to Alina’s logic, that means she must be happy and satisfied with it.  But even Alina can tell that Karin is still unsatisfied and lying to herself, hence Alina’s frustration and confusion at Karin not destroying her work.

Another timeline note: Alina doesn’t lie, and even if she did, she doesn’t have a ring here.  So I think it’s pretty settled that Karin’s MGS takes place before Alina learned about magical girls.

Oh huh. In NA, Alina thinks she’ll be the one in trouble if Karin isn’t ready.  In the fan translation I’m used to, it seems like Alina is saying she’d just be mad herself… but I think NA has it right here.  (In the original JP, Alina is using the passive form of “get angry” without a subject.)

Both work, but the impression NA gives with both this change and the earlier one is that someone at the school is basically putting Alina in charge of supervising Karin.  Which… what the hell, Sakae Academy?

Going back a bit, Alina’s advice and its effect on Karin is interesting.  One of Karin’s flaws really is that she makes excuses for herself and only half-commits, so Alina pushing her to think about what she truly wants and work hard to get it was genuinely what Karin needed to hear at the time.

However, Alina is also an obsessive perfectionist that tends to push herself to very clearly unhealthy levels…

So it’s rather fitting that on following Alina’s advice, Karin ends up pushing herself into doing something very dangerous: insisting on fighting a witch alone even though Kaede tries to get her to retreat.  Karin is so determined she’s risking her life to fulfill her goal – something Alina would no doubt approve of.  But also a great illustration of why Alina and her advice is flawed too.

Which, come to think of it, is part of why Karin and Alina’s MGS actually form a nice pair of complementary short stories.  If you read them in chronological(?) / original JP release order, you first get to see how Alina helps Karin to grow as a person, and if you think hard about it, you can kind of see foreshadowing for Alina’s own issues.  Then in Alina’s MGS, you get confirmation of that foreshadowing about Alina, and furthermore, the payoff to Karin’s development with her now being the one to give Alina some hard-hitting advice.

[marveloussupernerd]

I loved the platonic Zen one so much! Would you want to wrrite it from Zen's pOV and he is in love with MC? He would be just staring at her and in love with her but MC is too drunk to notice? Thanks!

Uhm this is literally such a cute idea !? I’ve never written from Zen’s POV and first person makes me feel silly... but let’s throwback to English terms I’m going to use third person limited to him :)) I hope that works for you

Wtf is this POV. Idk. I always refer to the lovely reader as “you.” Today you are “she/her.” If you want something gender neutral feel free to request ! Also I’m sorry if this sucks I’m playing around with points of view

Clubbing - Zen (Zen’s POV)

Warnings: alcohol (duh)

Summary: you’ve had a long day at work. Zen has been meaning to take you to some of his favorite clubs. You’re so pretty... even when you’re drunk, even more so when Zen is drunk. He’s caught feels

She had had the worst week ever, or that’s what it had sounded like. She was texting Zen everyday after work giving her update: “People were extra shitty today,” “working late,” “Friend’s being a real bitch.”

This week had sucked for her. Zen was determined to make it better though! She sounded so tired over the phone. Just exhausted of all the shit she had to put up with. So he recommended they go out clubbing, get super wasted together and let it all out. He knew it’d be therapeutic for her and, heck, maybe with a few drinks in him he’d forget how bubbly and hot he felt around her all the time. That’s the last thing she needed tonight.

He knew she was in desperate need of a fun night, so he picked the bar that he frequented that was right by a college campus. The scene was always lively and the people were nice. It’d be a good pick. His Uber arrived to the spot first. He had to look cool while he waited for you. He had dressed the part! Ripped jeans, a plain white shirt that was slightly fitted to give a little taste at his muscles, and the leather jacket he had pulled out from the back of his closet. He looked pretty cool, and definitely hot. His fans would have a heart attack seeing him in this ensemble, leaning against the wall, a smirk on his face.

When she got out of her Uber, though, that whole persona fell flat. He felt like an idiot. Why was he leaning against the wall! That was so stereotypical. His smirk had definitely changed, hopefully to a smile instead of a grimace. He was being an idiot.

But wow. She looked so good. She had on a skirt that looked so soft and her legs looked so pretty and he was staring at her legs for way too long. And her shirt was a high-necked, slightly cropped top. Not enough to show off her stomach, but just enough to hang there where a little bit of skin would peek out when she moved. She was so so beautiful. She didn’t even have to try. Of course, she had. She looked amazing. Ahhh how long had he been staring!? Say something! Say anything!

“Hey!” It was supposed to sound way cooler than that, way more chill. It came out as more of an exclamation. He was just so excited to see her.

She walked closer to him, a smile on her face. “This better be worth the commute,” she teased. It was a long Uber ride here, but he’d just have to make the trip even more worth it. The pressure was on.

He pushed himself off the wall so that he could better face her. “Oh it will! I’ve been so busy I haven’t been here in a while, but I doubt it’s changed.” He made his way into the building, staying close to her side. It often got pretty busy here. “It’s right outside of a college so you get all the fun college students here.” He had to raise his voice to speak over the music, but she seemed to be listening thoughtfully, a smile on her face as she nodded. God, that smile! Look anywhere else, Zen.

“Sounds messy,” she commented, her eyes scanning across the college students already getting drunk. Her gaze focused on a group of sorority girls in super high cut crop tops and high-waisted shorts. She pulled down her shirt subconsciously to cover up more of her stomach. It shot a pang to Zen’s heart. Did she really think she was any less attractive than these girls? She was so much more beautiful than them.

He chose not to comment on it though, instead following their conversation, explaining how all the students here were fun, as compared to regular bars where there were always people moping mixed in the crowds. He only ever came here when he wanted to get completely hammered and have a good time, but considering that’s what she needed, this was the perfect spot.

She was gazing at him for a little too long; Zen felt his body heat up under her gaze. What was she thinking about? Hopefully only good things. She continued on the conversation as though nothing had happened. “So, what do you typically start with here?”

“Shots. Classic move, especially for the med school students. You’ll see them soon enough. They start off with fireball then make their way down to the cheapest vodka as they get more drunk and can’t actually taste it.” It sounded like he had been here too much; he hoped he didn’t sound like an alcoholic.

But she didn’t judge him. She never had. She was so sweet. She just smiled, suggesting they follow their influence.

Zen offered to go get the drinks, heading up to the bar and placing their order. His eyes caught his own in the reflection in a mirror on the back wall. Why did he look so nervous? He’d need more alcohol to get through tonight. He requested another round of shots.

She seemed surprised to see the four shot glasses he balanced back. “Do they normally do two at once?” She asked, not bothering to hide the surprise in her face.

He shook his head. Don’t blush. Don’t blush. “Nah, they’re too broke for that. But I thought” that I didn’t want to be fawning over you all night. That I can’t look at you without thinking how pretty you are. That alcohol would help. “It’d be fun,” he finally mustered out. He handed her the shot glass, IGNORING how he felt as they brushed hands when they clinked their glasses against each other’s. He downed it smoothly, the burning feeling at his throat deliciously taking his mind off of her. That is until she had her mouth puckered and was shaking her head, holding back a cough. She looked cute even while doing that. “Good?” He asked her, still taking in her reaction.

“Perfect.” She grinned. “Round 2?”

“Already?” Thank God. More alcohol equals less strange feelings.

She laughed. His heart fluttered. “Well, it’s here isn’t it? The faster we can get drunk the better.”

Amen. He clinked the second glass and downed it even quicker than the first.

They got drunk fast. Zen had a constant stream of alcohol flowing through his body, begging it to stop thinking of her in that way. She tried to keep up with him, though, which got her drunk as well in no time.

“Will you sing karaoke with me?” He asked, his face heating up the second he realized what he had asked. What a strange question. One she’d never agree-

“Sure!” She laughed out loud. “I’ll even let you pick the song.”

Any song. Any song. A song he could remember the words to. A song you definitely knew. Maybe something a little romantic? No. Probably not. He settled on “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” A perfect duet. It’d show off his voice well, everyone knew it, it was cute without being too lovey.

He clicked the wrong song. “Before He Cheats” started playing. Not what he intended at all. He stumbled up to the stage and grabbed the microphone, desperate to pull attention away from such an odd choice of a song. “Hey, I’m Zen and this is my...” he blanked into the microphone. NOT girlfriend. Friend. Friend. “Best friend!” He introduced, announcing her name for the audience before the song had begun.

She took the song in stride. In fact... she probably got too into it? “This is for my asshole ex!” She cheered at the instrumental break. The crowd went wild.

Say something say something say something. “A-and all my old managers who told me I’d never make it,” he added. Everyone cheered again.

She made her way over to him, time seeming to slow as he watched her foot catch on the microphone cord, leaping to action to catch her before she could hit the ground, arms around her back as she had one on his chest to steady herself. His body felt like it was on fire.

“That would’ve hurt like a bitch,” she commented, laughing. She was drunk drunk, huh? He helped her up, grasping her hand firmly and guiding her over the wire to his side of the stage. They finished the performance hand-in-hand; he hadn’t wanted to let go.

Once they got off the stage, they didn’t get a moment of relieve, a man calling her name. Why did he introduce her? Nobody had the right to cat call her like this. He whipped around to face the man, blinding white anger in his eyes. She had such a shitty week, she didn’t need this. “If you so much as look at her right now I swear to God I’ll knock you into-“ his eyes widened as he took in the startled blonde boy in front of him. “Yoosung?”

Yoosung didn’t move, unintimidated by drunk Zen. “Hi!” He greeted. She turned to face him, her skirt fanning as she moved. Zen snapped his eyes away from her and back to the man in question. “You guys are kinda drunk.”

They burst into laughter. Duh!! Wasn’t that obvious. “What are you doing here?” Zen asked, ignoring the previous comment.

“Oh, well I live right down the street.”

Her eyes lit up in enlightenment. “Oh my goodness you are a college student!” She seemed very proud of this discovery.

Yoosung went on about playing LOLOL but Zen was more focused on her, the smile on her lips, not reserved as it sometimes was, but in full form, nothing held back. The way her eyes sparkled under the light and... back to the conversation at hand.

“Oh! I have a great idea!” He interrupted Yoosung’s very boring story, focusing the conversation on her.

“I’d love to hear it.” She was always so nice.

“Why don’t we just crash at Yoosung’s place tonight? We won’t have to pay for an Uber.”

Yoosung seemed shocked. “But-“

“That’s pretty smart,” she butted in, nodding. “What do you think Yoosung?”

She could get anyone to listen to her. She was so damn charming. Yoosung didn’t stand a chance. “I- I guess that’s okay. As long as I can play LOLOL.”

“Yay!” She cheered, clapping excitedly. “We can go now. Lead the way.”

As the three headed out of the bar, Zen noticed her walking was shaky. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder to steady her and she followed suit. They weren’t much more stable walking down the street, but he felt better having his arm around her to keep her safe. Yoosung had unlocked the door for them and they shuffled in.

“I only have like... a bed and a couch,” he explained. “But we can figure something out.”

She let go of Zen’s body, leaping out of his grip to look around the place. “Wow Yoosung! This is cute as hell.” She was cute as hell.

Zen made his way to the couch, plopping down on it at the same time as her. His legs banged into hers clumsily, but he shifted so that she could lay on top of his. Were they really going to sleep in the same place?

“Is that really comfortable?” Yoosung asked, directing his attention to her. “You can take my bed.”

Zen glanced over at her, pouting. He was not sharing a couch with Yoosung, especially after almost getting to share it with her. She seemed to get the hint. “Nah, this is great. Will you get us a blankie though?”

As Yoosung left to get the blanket, Zen shrugged off his jacket, tossing it to the floor. She ran her hand through her hair, the locks falling messily around her face. Yoosung came back and draped the blanket over the two of them. “Is this okay?” He had asked.

Zen chuckled, cozying up to the blanket. “Perfect. Thanks Dad,” he teased. Yoosung blushed more. She giggled.

“Night Yoosungie! Don’t stay up all night.” She called. He wanted a nickname. Not fair. Yoosung set down some Advil and water on the coffee table and wished them good night. The room was suddenly silent.

“I want a nickname too.” Zen whispered.

“Zen isn’t even your real name,” she retorted.

He groaned. “I want a cute name like Yoosungie. Why don’t I get a cute name.”

“You’re plenty cute already,” she muttered, clearly tired. “Goodnight Zenny,” she giggled, blowing him a kiss. He fake-caught it, pinning it to his chest. Maybe tonight wasn’t all that bad after all.

[border-spam]

She wishes she didn’t know the answer to that -  Late COV - Pre Leech Lord

(Tw: Gore and descriptions of violence under the cut)

Seifa has decent morals for someone who spends most of their time on Pandora, but that's.. a very low bar. Like, a VERY low bar when you consider it.

She's stepped over plenty of mummified corpses and not given them a second thought. You can't shake a hand on this shit-hole without subtly picking deep red flakes off your fingers after, and you shouldn't really waste too much time considering where they came from or.. ya know.

You're not going to last long here.

Violence is just a part of life for everyone who scrapes out survival on Pandora's grimy surface. Even in the more “civilised” places, disagreements turn to cracked jaws then turn to gunshots so quickly, no one really even bats an eye. So the Twin's brand of voyeur-violence-porn? It isn't actually that shocking to anyone, including her.

She's not ok with it, it's not something she finds any joy in knowing is happening, but the people involved either want it, or deserve it, and that's something Troy has been VERY careful to enforce since the founding of the COV. If he's leading a raid and raking up a juicy view count, there's a reason he's there. They were slavers. They were sex traffickers. They attacked and ravaged a protected settlement. They ate a camp of migrants. They stole supplies from a cult caravan on route to a village who'd begged for help.

He always has a reason, and he's never found pleasure in rampant cruelty... he leaves that to Tyreen and her rapid decline.

Troy doesn't rip terrified sick folk from their shacks as they cower under the onslaught of his Crusaders, he doesn't slap a child to the ground who points a rusty bayonet at him while trying to defend their sibling, his raids only target the aggressors. If a camp of heretics yields and bows instead of attacking when his retinue set ground? No one's going to die. There's a place for every sack of flesh in the COV, even if it was an enemy a week ago.

She sees the violence escalating over time, everyone does. He's so good at convincing it's all about the views if concern is shown. Cites numbers and ratios honey thick through a wolf grin that's so hard to trust yet so impossible to fight, that you'll believe him... but anyone can see the rage that's building. How lost he's getting in the throes. 

Everyone knows Troy is venting something terrible out of himself as the years go on, but no one feels safe enough to raise it. Not because of what will happen to them... because of what will happen to him.

She was watching alongside the billions of others when the Maw ripped open the first time live, when that man's bone and brain matter squelched out of the jaw's side plates like some kind of fucking overripe fruit, and she nearly blacked out.

Doesn't remember getting to the toilet, doesn't really remember throwing up, but remembers the loathing, the confusion, her memories of a lopsided crooked grin and squinty blue eyes feeling so monstrously lost in whatever the fuck she'd just witnessed.

Troy never had any value for the clergy staff, priests and fanatics are driveling masses to him, but regular worshipers he always had a soft spot for. The down and outs, the disabled, the sick, the people who look to him over Tyreen were never people he’d lash out at and that still stands even when he’s at his worst, but the clergy are taking the brunt of his non direct aggression and his now complete lack of patience with them is another major red flag for anyone watching closely enough.

She’s torn in half, this was the exact kind of shit she couldn’t continue to bear the weight of supporting him over, this was exactly why she’d left.. but seeing him fall cut so much deeper then she ever could have prepared herself for, even if she knew damn well it was coming. They all knew.

He hasn’t changed in regards to physical violence. He’d always quickly put down a fanatic who showed disrespect to himself or someone he saw as with value, always treated them coldly and with a level of dominance that wasn’t exactly welcoming, but now he’s explosive in his temper, throwing their censers against walls, smashing heavy pews next to them, snarling against a pinned priest’s throat for making the mistake of looking at him when a weak spell unbalanced his prowl.

Troy is ready to snap, and the people who know him the closest know that when that time comes, it’s not going to be someone else he attacks. 

She doesn’t tune to any of their raid streams again, hates herself for even feeling the urge to check in that time considering what happened. Between the updates from the city folk about the lashing out at acolytes and seeing the level of viciousness that’s being exerted on the deserving, it’s very clear how low he’s fallen and how dangerously close to breaking he is.

She knows this is absolutely all him, everyone does. Watching the slow decline was too natural, too fitting. She wishes she could blame outside influences, but it’s her, it’s Tyreen, it’s him, it’s his Oracle, his Aegis, the people who call him friend, the COV... it’s every mistake they all made crashing down around them, and no one knows what to do anymore.

By the time she comes back, crestfallen, thin, and a shadow of the confidence she’d exuded 2 years ago, he’s all smiles and laughter through a torn up throat. Reminiscing and innocent, like none of it ever happened. Like he wasn’t bedridden, like it hadn’t driven him to this.

It did happen, and its effects ripple outwards for some time after.

The comfort of finally feeling like things have a chance of becoming right again is constantly interrupted by the unease of catching a glimpse of that jaw split, or the twitching claws of the prosthetic that betray his temper. He can flick between gentle and rabid in seconds if provoked by a low tier acolyte still, and everyone remains on edge.

It calms slowly, his friends are here, his support reconnects itself around him, and the weight of the responsibility, stress, and self hatred he’s been drowning under begins to lift. He sleeps, he eats, he’s not running on fumes and chems.

As time passes, he’s in such a better place mentally that he hasn’t lashed out in months, flaming temper replaced by cool intimidation.

The fangs are still there though, and no matter how much people care for him, they can never forget what they know he’s capable of.

Asks are Open!

[kentuckywrites]

Imperium 2: Chapter 1

Gratam mundi. (Welcome to the world.)

Elma decided, somewhere in the middle of Secretary Nagi’s speech, that it was a crime to schedule meetings during sunny days. BLADE Tower’s top floor was partially surrounded by windows, giving a full view to the city outside. The sunlight teased those inside with a considerable glare, a promise that nothing would dare stand in its way. For once, the meeting flew by, and Elma retained only bits and pieces of it, longing to escape outside. Maybe she could convince Lin to take the day off and come along for a picnic. Goodness knows, she hadn’t had the chance to sit down and truly relax, not even after the Lifehold was found. 

The meeting was partially about that, after all. After her mission to the Lifehold, she’d discovered that the Lifehold had been flooded. On all accounts, everyone with a mimeosome in the city should have collapsed, never to wake up. And yet, something - something - was keeping the Lifehold in working order. Even the Outfitters couldn’t place what was powering the Lifehold, and they’d dug for a while trying to figure it out. Somewhere along the months and months of research, things shifted, and instead the focus was on using the Lifehold to create real human bodies. The meeting was a debrief on what the Outfitters had put together on the matter, which didn’t amount to much, unfortunately. Those systems were damaged after the crash, after the Ganglion attack, after the Vita and Luxaar and Lao and those hideous, awful chimeras. Elma shuddered at the memory.

When Nagi dismissed everyone, Elma was, regrettably, not the first one out the door. She made small talk with Nagi as the first group of people crammed into the elevator, waited for them to head down, waited for the elevator to come back up and take her to the first floor. It was quiet, thankfully, and when she stepped out into the bright summer air, she inhaled, exhaled. Freedom never tasted so sweet.

Elma took a few steps down the stairs, her goal in mind. She’d ask Lin about that picnic, maybe rope Gwin and Irina into joining them. She made the turn into Armory Alley and quickly spotted Lin, who was talking with L at his shop. She was holding something rather long in her hands. A pipe, of some kind? Elma couldn’t imagine what it was at first glance. As she grew closer, she caught some of the conversation.

“...from the interior of a xe-dom! Ferocious mechanical beasts, mind you, and so the part you hold is the rarest sight indeed!”

“Ooh, a xe-dom? What did it do? What was it connected to? Maybe I can incorporate it into this new Skell weapon I’m designing -”

“We believe that it - ah, Elma!” L caught sight of Elma, who approached Lin’s right side and peered at the pipe curiously.

“Elma!” Lin chirped, “How’d the meeting go? Any update on getting our real bodies back?”

Elma shook her head. “Unfortunately, not much progress has been made yet. It’ll be a while before we can say for certain when the Outfitters will be able to finish repairs to the Lifehold.”

“Aw man,” Lin sighed, “Well, it’s still good to hear that work’s being done. I still can’t believe I wasn’t recruited to help with that.”

“Your skills are far more valuable in the city than out there,” She said, “I know it doesn’t feel like much of anything, but trust me. The work you’ve been doing on Skells here is crucial.”

“I know, I know.” 

Lin turned back to L, whose hands were clasped. He was leaning in slightly, as if he was trying to better hear the news Elma had brought along. “Hey L, how much did you say this would be again?”

“Ah, we are so pleased that your interested is picked!” L cheered, “It would be a mere five thousand credits for such a fine -”

“Deal!” Lin juggled her new pipe and her comm device as she transferred the credits over to L’s device. He smiled as his own device pinged with the newly received credits, and Lin quickly put her comm device away to admire her purchase. “Man oh man...L, would you let me know if you find any more of these?”

“But of course! We shall keep your name reserved and primed for any incoming materials of that nature,” L nodded, “Does anything else swipe your curiosities this fine afternoon?”

Elma spoke up before Lin could properly respond. “Actually, L, do you have time to spare today? I was thinking of taking the rest of the day off and inviting some friends along for a picnic out in Primordia. The weather’s beautiful for it.”

“Ooh, a picnic? Please tell me I’m invited,” Lin begged, “I need an excuse to get out of the workshop. Feels like I’ve been holed up in there for centuries!!”

“Of course you’re invited, Lin.”

“Yay!!”

L sighed wistfully. “We so wish to join, but our dearest assistant is out today, and we are tasked with managing this stand with our own two hands.”

“Is Jejebba okay?” Lin asked, concerned.

“Ah, he is doing most wonderfully!” L shook his hands in defense, “He is merely engaging in celebratory festivities. A friend of his recently partook in what humans would call ‘marriage’, and their party has since moved to Army Pizza.”

“I didn’t know Ma-non got married…” Lin wondered out loud, “I guess you learn something new every day.”

“That’s a shame, L,” Elma said, “Perhaps another day, then.” She turned to Lin, glancing at the pipe still in her hands before asking, “Do you know where Pongo is? We could ask him to come along.”

“Like a big family reunion!” Lin said, “Man, I haven’t seen him in ages, actually. What about you, L, has he stopped by recently?”

L put a thoughtful finger to his chin. “We don’t believe he has, not in quite some time. Last we heard, he was assigned to a tippy top secret mission!”

“Did it have anything to do with...the you know what?”

Elma watched L’s expression change in mere seconds. Of course, they both knew what Lin was referring to. It seemed like only yesterday that they’d seen Pongo walking through the city again, renewed and alive after the events in Cauldros. And it felt surreal, knowing that he was never truly human. Pongo was, in fact, an avatar of Mira, a creation of the sentient planet that it could inhabit and influence. From what Pongo had explained, his relationship with Mira was somewhat tense. They were both learning about what it meant to share a body, and though Elma couldn’t quite relate to his plight, she was proud of how Pongo was handling things. 

Well...proud of most of it. She couldn’t admit to it out loud, but hearing about how he needed to sacrifice himself, watching him fall into Mount M’Gando without a second thought...it scared her. Not much could affect her, but many things on Mira had, and she knew many things on Mira would continue to haunt her. Even now, hearing that Pongo had been away on this mission for a while, she couldn’t help but worry. He was an incredibly strong companion, and it had been an honor watching him grow and improve. But he was always self-sacrificing, always cared about others more than himself. He couldn’t stop crossing the line, let alone draw the line himself. 

And that worried look on L’s face...Elma thought of all the possibilities, good and bad. What did he know that they didn’t? Did he harbor the same fears?

“He would have informed us if his mission were to do with Mira,” L said, after a long pause. “He only managed to provide small cutouts of his true intent, but neglected to tell us specifics. From what we gathered, Pongo is the conductor of some form of treasure hunt.”

Some of the tension in Elma’s shoulders released, and Lin got stars in her eyes, blissfully ignorant of her and L’s concern. “Now that sounds exciting!! Forget working on the Lifehold or Skells, Miran buried treasure sounds awesome!”

“I bet he’ll tell us all about it once he returns,” Elma said, “For now, Lin, shall we prepare for the picnic?”

“Heck yeah!” She waved goodbye to L, who waved back with a somewhat forced smile. “See ya later, L! Thanks again for the pipe!”

“It is our pleasure!” L replied as they walked further away, his attention suddenly shifting to a new potential customer that had approached his shop. Elma led Lin down Armory Alley, who was skipping along with a pep in her step. It relieved Elma’s tensions further, seeing the young Outfitter look so full of life. Perhaps her concerns were a little misguided, rooted in previous encounters. After all, Pongo was a capable young man, and he could hold his own in a fight. She only hoped that whatever treasure he was after, he was cautious in his approach and took the right measures to -

“Elma?”

Elma blinked, realizing she had become lost in her thoughts. Lin was tugging her arm gently, the pipe cradled in her elbow, and she was using her other hand to point further ahead. Elma squinted. There was nothing terribly interesting up ahead, save for the usual tents, some Skells walking past, BLADEs whispering to each other as a woman, tattered and beaten, walked through the East Gate -

Wait a minute.

Elma didn’t waste any time in rushing forward. Even though everyone around her looked on with slight horror, she could only see that the woman was badly hurt, and she’d need help fast. She made it to the woman just in time to catch her as she fell, and Elma let her head rest on her shoulder. Her entire body was covered in blood, bruises, open gashes leaking blue...but at least, doing a quick once-over, nothing vital had been damaged. All flesh wounds, in an ironic twist.

Lin was by Elma’s side in a matter of seconds, her comm device out and scanning over the woman’s body. Some small beeps resonated from the device, and Lin looked up at Elma, frowning. “She seems okay, based on the scan. Maybe we should get her to the MMC just in case.”

“No...no.”

Elma was shocked when she heard the woman speak. She lifted her head slightly, her short black hair tickling Elma’s nose. Underneath her hair, Elma could see light skin, some scratches on her face, and…

Her eyes. Indigo, pupiless. 

Just like Pongo’s.

“You must be Elma,” The woman gave a weak smile, “Sorry we had to meet like this. But...but I need your help. Pongo’s in trouble.”

Elma’s heart sank to her stomach. Lin’s eyes went wide, and any stars left over from her astonishment at the pipe vanished. 

“You know Pongo?” Lin asked a question that Elma knew the probable answer to, but she wouldn’t be certain until she heard it from the woman’s lips.

The woman tried to sit herself up straighter, but Elma kept her hands on her forearms to make sure she didn’t fall again. She spoke again, after forcing a light giggle.

“I’m...well, I’m his sister. I’m Nessa-vara’is, but you can call me Nessa for short.”

[kkachi95]

New canon information from The Rise of Kyoshi

Alright, so I’m little bit over 42% through The Rise of Kyoshi and I’m HOOKED.

This book does a lot of worldbuilding and the new characters are well-developed.

I’ll be consolidating new information I find from this book on this post. I’ll keep updating the list as I progress through the book!

SPOILERS, obviously

1) KYOSHI

Kyoshi was abandoned as a child by her parents, who were leaders of an underground criminal organization.

Her mother was a rogue airbender hailing from the Eastern Air Temple. Yep, you heard it right, Kyoshi is half air nomad. Her mother apparently became a master at young age and fell in love with Kyoshi’s father, an outlaw, while traveling. Kyoshi’s mother modified her arrow tattoo into a serpent and her airbending ability lost its power due to her attachment to worldly concerns. She compensated with a pair of fans, which Kyoshi inherited.

Kyoshi’s father is from a family lineage that traces back to Royal Theater School in Ba Sing Se. Kyoshi inherited her make up and headdress from him.

Kyoshi was very tall even in her young age. In her teenage years, she is constantly described with terms like “giant,” “massive,” and “towering.” Since she’s taller than most men, I’m going to assume she’s at least 6 ft.

She spent her early childhood as a street urchin in Yokoya and was neglected by the villagers until she was discovered and taken under the care of an air nomad named Kelsang, who was a companion of Avatar Roku. She was, and still is relentlessly bullied by other children in Yokoya.

Kyoshi is initially very shy, non-confrontational, has very low self esteem, and inept at earthbending. Kyoshi is extremely strong for her age as she lifts a man by his neck without any trouble. Also, she has distinct freckles!

She is an extreme clean freak with a constant urge to “maintain order and minimize clutter." She starts out as a serveant assigned to clean up after the (misidentified) Avatar.

I believe Kyoshi is 16+ years old in this story.

Kyoshi’s outfit has chailmain armor underneath it, and she started wearing gloves after suffering major lightning wound on her hands.

2) KYOSHI’S COMPANIONS

As a teenager, Kyoshi has two friends: Yun and Rangi, who are both her age. I won’t go too much into their plot.

Yun is the ‘misidentified’ Earthbending Avatar who is a former street urchin. He is said to be handsome, playful and flirty. He has brown hair and jade green eyes.

He is extremely talented in earthbending and is loved by everyone. He ships Kyoshi and Rangi but also flirts with Kyoshi too (and basically everyone)

He was discovered ‘late’ as the Avatar and genuinely wants to do his best as the new Avatar.

Rangi is a Fire Nation noble girl who is sworn and honor bound to serve as the Avatar’s bodyguard. She is military-trained in the Fire Army Junior Corps. She is intimidating and hot-headed, but also very protective of her friends.

She is said to be beautiful, with delicate skin, porcelain doll face and jet black hair. She has a “charred rasp” voice and “dark bronze” eyes.

She is the "straight man" character of Kyoshi's entourage and takes things very seriously, but she's also the unintentionally funniest character of the group. She eventually becomes Kyoshi's swon bodyguard and depite her best judgement, she's dragged into many questionable situations by Kyoshi. Rangi is definitely my favorite new character. Think of her as a more sane, less murder-y version of Azula.

Her nickname: topknot, hairpins, and hotwoman

Rangi’s mother, Hei-Ran, was a companion of Avatar Kuruk, who gave up her commission in the Fire Nation Army, then later her position as headmistress in the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, to teach the Avatar. Hei-Ran and Rangi are said to be spitting image of each other.

Kyoshi is romantically attraced to both Yun and Rangi.

Kirima is a young female waterbender from the outlaw group Kyoshi’s parents founded.

She has wolf-like features and piercing blue eyes. Kirima is also said to be lithe and light on her feet.

She’s easy-going and likes to tease people, especially Rangi.

Wong is a huge male earthbender in his 30s from the outlaw group Kyoshi’s parents founded.

He is very tall, thick, and has smooth, clean shaven face. He has a very prominent protruding gut and isn’t the most loquacious type.

Lek is the youngest male Earthbender member of the group and is said to be 14-15.

He is from the Si Wong desert and was brought into the group by Kyoshi’s parents, whom he thinks very highly of. This caused Kyoshi to resent him initially.

He values his family and likes to tease other people just like Kirima. Lek has very precise control of small earth projectiles, which he uses as bullets.

Lao Ge is an old, mysterious Earthbending assassin who is said to be hundreds of years old. He pretends to be a drunken fool and only Kyoshi knows of his true identity.

He travels with the group and goes off on his own to kill people he deem unworthy of living. Kyoshi asks him to be her Sifu.

3) THE AVATAR CYCLE

Avatar Kuruk died at the age of 33. He was said to be one of the greatest Pai Sho players in history and a highly-skilled bender, but lacked leadership and diplomatic skills. He spent his time traveling around the four nation seeking pleasure. He was also one of the best hunters to have ever lived.

Two of Avatar Yangchen’s friends and teachers died protecting her from the enemy.

Each nation has its own way of discovering the Avatar and identifying a toddler’s ability to bend

Being the Avatar’s companion was considered to be an honor beyond reckoning that only few got to experience. Those who taught the Avatar held massive influence over the world.

Period between the death of the previous Avatar and discovery of his/her successor is often filled with political turmoil. The Rise of Kyoshi is set in a politically turbulent time as Kuruk died in young age and the new Avatar was discovered much later than usual. This led to the rise of many opportunist criminal factions.

4) BENDING

Unlike the show, bending is openly depicted as being LETHAL in this book. People are impaled, burned, crushed, buried, sliced, and so on.

Seismic sense is a skill shared by all earthbenders, not just Toph. Most people’s skills are extremely rudimentary, though.

‘Dust stepping’ and ‘mist stepping’ are abilities practiced by certain earth and waterbenders to create floating platforms that move with them, which allow them to run through thin air. Rangi mimics this move with firebending after having witnessed it.

Firebenders have naturally warm bodies and they can project heat, which allows them to do things like increasing a room’s temperature by several degrees.

Firebenders' "inner fire" allow them to resist poison.

People in the Fire Nation identify bending ability of their children by placing a bowl full of highly-flammable materials to see if their children can resonate with it. This is done as early as possible to prevent accidental fires as young children don't have good control over their flames.

Lightning bending is a skill so rare that people thought it of it as a folktale or a long lost knowledge. Barely any living witnesses who can confirm its existence exists.

Airbender are seemingly immune to the weather.

5) EARTH KINGDOM

Earth Kingdom is highly fragmented and has multiple kings. This is attributed to Ba Sing Se’s failure or unwillingness to actively assert control over the continent. 

Bandits and pirates plague the countryside. Small settlements and towns have to form militias and fend for themselves as the official Earth Kingdom military seems to neglect their plight.   

Earth Kingdom’s Northern and Southern dialect are said to be so different that they might as well be different language. People of the Si Wong Desert barely share any culture or custom with rest of the Earth Kingdom.

Beifongs were known for their wealth even in this era.

Kyoshi Island was originally known as Yokoya. Farming yields little and people scrape by to meet end’s meet. People here are said to wear blue clothes despite their earth kingdom heritage. Kyoshi was left here as a child and initially grew up as a street urchin because the villagers neglected her for being an outsider.

6) FIRE NATION

Apparently, firebenders are notorious for always talking about honor.

Fire Nation was involved in a conflict with the Earth Kindom in the distant (?) past.

Fire Navy is the most capable Navy in the world.

Royal Fire Nation Academy for Girl holds Agni Kais and there are many “accidental” kills.

Firebending instructors used to maim their students for insubordination.

Hair is heavily linked with honor. Losers of Agni Kai would shave parts of their head bald as sign of humility but would leave the top knot alone since it’s considered sacred. It was never touched except in circumstances akin to death.

7) WATER TRIBES

The Souther Water tribe is said to be poor, undeveloped, and vulnerable. It’s significantly behind the rest of the world in terms of development. Southern Water Tribe doesn’t have a legitimate Navy because it doesn’t have trees necessary for shipbuilding. It is a peaceful nation, though it is involved in a territorial dispute over an island with the Earth Kingdom. It’s ruled by multiple chieftains.

“Tui’s gills!” - Water Tribe equivalent of ‘Oh my god’

8) AIR NOMADS

Air nomads are regarded with great respect and reverence for their wisdom and spirituality.

Head nomad of an air temple is referred to as an Abbot.

9) DAOFEI (BANDITS)

Daofei plays a huge role in the story. A vast underground criminal scoiety with its own code of honor run deeply throughout the Earth Kingdom, which is "too big to police" for the Earth Kingdom Army. 

As mentioned earlier, Kyoshi's parents were leaders of a prominent Daofei group and Kyoshi herself officially swears her Daofei vows to learn bending skills from her parents' old colleagues. Kyoshi absolutely despises Daofei, though.

Several years before the novel’s start, these bandits staged what is known as the Yellow Neck Rebellion, which is an analogue of the Yellow Turban Rebellion (184–205 AD) during Han Dynasty China. In real life, the rebellion led to the tumultuous time period known as the Three Kingdoms Period, where various warlords fought over control of China.

[morfinwen]

H for Ian, W for Lauren, S for Ash, Y for Meaghan, X for Niner, Z for Christopher, Q for Q (hehe), and N for Nate, please. :)

H: Heat (Ian)

1. does he prefer a hot or cold room?

It depends, but generally cooler is better than warmer.

2. does he prefer summer or winter?

Very much a fan of both, honestly. He loves winter sports, but there’s nothing like an afternoon at the pool or beach on a hot day. 

3. does he like the snow?

Yes, less so now that when it snows he’s the one that has to shovel it, but he loves snowball fights, sledding, and snowboarding. Of course, he lives in Tennessee so it doesn’t snow a lot, but he has cousins that live in New York (state, not city).

4. does he have a favorite summer activity?

Water balloon fights.

5. does he have a favorite winter activity?

Snowball fights win out over sledding by a very small margin.

N: Never Have I Ever (Nate)

1. what would he never do?

It’s difficult to say with certainty what someone would never, ever, under any circumstance do, but it’s very unlikely that Nate will ever be the first to do something, especially something he’s never done or considered doing before. He can be impulsive with small things he’s familiar with, like impulse buys or listening to a new band, but he’s not eager for new experiences or inclined to leap without looking.

2. what has he never done that he wants to do?

Lots of things, like graduate college and have a serious girlfriend and get a steady job. Most of these are … unlikely, at this point in time.

3. is there anything he absolutely can’t believe people do?

He never got into drugs, but he knew people in college who did. Everything about it, from how you take drugs (particularly ones that you inject via needle) to the long-term effects, is so repulsive to him he doesn’t understand how anyone could choose to do them.

Drugs are bad.

4. what is the most embarrassing thing he's done?

As a kid, he once attempted to do a cool skateboard trick he saw in a video game, and wiped out -- badly -- just as he started.

5. has he done anything he thought he'd never do?

Die. There was a time he thought he’d always live in New York City, but otherwise not really.

Q: Questions (Q)

1. does he ask for help?

Q is too sensible to wait for the literal last second to ask for help, but it’s a close thing sometimes.

2. does he ask questions in class?

There were a couple classes where he had enough of a rapport with the teacher, and enough familiarity with the subject, that he actually raised his hand once or twice. It was a very rare occurrence.

3. does he answer questions that make them a little uncomfortable?

For the most part, no, he does not. If the question is only minorly uncomfortable, or uncomfortable on behalf of someone else, or if he’s really confident in his relationship with the asker, then he might. Otherwise, Q is the master of avoiding disquieting subjects and redirecting conversational topics. 

4. does he ask weird questions?

More like he has weird answers: the result of an expensive education in fancy private schools with super-rich kids, vacations to various foreign countries, and living a hand-to-mouth existence in a big city. 

5. is he curious?

Nope. If he was, he would’ve figured some things out about his newest living situation a lot faster.

S: Streets (Ash)

1. is he street-smart?

Not precisely. He’s not naïve, either, but it’s more that Ash is an intelligent guy who avoids stupid situations than being street-smart.

2. would he give money to someone on the streets?

No, but he’d definitely buy them lunch, find out their situation, and try to help them if he could.

3. has he ever gotten in a fight on the streets?

Probably not. Both his home town and Aldstow, where he lives now, are small, quiet towns that don’t have a lot of trouble.

4. has anything happened to him on the streets?

Once or twice, he’s met up with a hunter (à la Supernatural) in Aldstow. Hunters and magical types in his ‘verse are not inherently violently opposed to each other (there are a couple that his mother regularly helps), but it’s a strained and awkward relationship at the best of times. Fortunately for Ash, he is calm and understanding enough to “speak softly”, and his considerable magical prowess is a very “big stick”, so interactions with hunters have always stayed civil when he was involved.

5. is he cautious when out?

Ash is always cautious, in or out.

W: Water (Lauren)

1. does she drink enough water?

She pretty much always has a water bottle with her, mixed with one of those fruit flavorings. She discovered them in college, and it was a life-changer.

2. has she learned to swim?

Yep, classes at the local Y in grade school.

3. does she like to swim?

It’s not something she’s ever done a lot of, outside of very crowded city pools and one or two visits to very crowded beaches. If she had more chances to do it, she’d like it more. As it is, she doesn’t hate it.

4. can she dive?

She learned in one swimming class, but not well, and it’s not something she’s kept up.

5. can she swim without holding her nose?

Yep. That’s about the zenith of her swimming ability, though.

X: Xylophone (Niner)

1. what is her favorite genre of music?

She’s only really started getting into music now that she’s hanging around non-werecats, so she hasn’t narrowed in a single genre she likes. Probably rock, very generally speaking -- not full-on metal, but harder stuff with noticeable drums, bassline, electronic guitars, etc. Not really a fan of more acoustic-sounding stuff.

2. does she have a favorite song?

Not a single favorite song, but there are several Q’s introduced her to that she likes. 

3. does she have a favorite band/artist/singer?

Not particularly. 

4. can she sing well?

Not really. If she had some training, she could probably sound decent enough that no one would ask her to shut up, but as it is she has trouble even keeping on tune, on the rare occasions she even attempts to sing.

5. can she rap?

Kind of. Again, she doesn’t have much experience, but her attempts to keep up with rapping have gone better than her attempts to sing on-key.

Y: You (Meaghan)

1. how old were you when you created her?

Uh, it’s been over 10 years. Dang.

2. what inspired you to create her?

Well, Meaghan is “my” Jedi Exile from the video game Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords. So i guess i was equal parts inspired by the game itself and just the desire to develop her as a character.

3. was she different when she was first created?

Not really. She’s certainly gained more detail over the years, but i don’t think she’s changed in essentials.

4. do you enjoy writing her more than other characters?

She’s a little easier to write than some others, i can say that. I don’t know how i would rank the general enjoyableness of writing about any of my characters.

5. what’s your favorite thing about her?

In general, i love the little details that my characters share about themselves that seem to come out of nowhere (even when it messes with my earlier ideas -- had to update my OCs page recently-ish because Neal suddenly informed me he has an older brother).

In Meaghan’s case, those little details are that she is a very tactile person, and is colorblind. It could be argued the former is, if not a direct result of the latter, influenced by it -- she’s learned to favor/rely on senses other than sight because hers is not totally reliable. 

Z: Zebra (Christopher)

1. what’s his favorite animal?

He’d give a different answer, depending on the day. Big predators, like wolves, bears, and tigers, but whales are cool too.

2. does he like animals?

He loves animals, though he’s not the kind of guy to have pets. Pets introduce more chaos into his life than he would like, and limit his ability to go places and do things on short notice.

3. cats or dogs?

Both, honestly. The independence of cats makes them less demanding, and therefore more appealing to his desire to avoid getting tied down, but the affection and dependence of dogs is appealing to his self-importance.

4. what’s his dream pet?

Bengal tiger.

5. does he have any pets at the moment?

No.

Thanks for asking!

[rolaplayor101]

Ok so there are two parts why: personally and canonically XD

Ok so how I even started thinking about it was when I was looking up Riley from Inside Out, I think? Cause I thought she was a guy in the trailer and i looked on the interwebs to see if other people had the same thought but then I saw a post by Disney Confessions that said they thought she was a Demiboy or Demigirl or something like that and i was like Oooh that makes sense (that was also when I found out about that particular gender identity I think) and as I kept scrolling through Disney Confessions i think(??? This was a while ago so Idk) someone said they thought Hiro was aro ace or asexual romantic something or I dunno and then I remembered when I watched the movie like how they first introduced Gogo when she flipped her hair and took off her helmet, which is totally used as a Meet Cute™ moment in most stuff, and how my first thought was ooghhh here we go again but nothing happened with them the rest of the movie even at the end.

And then there was the pink blast seen when honey took her glasses off and I was like oh Geeze™ but still, nothing happened and I was just so happy it went the whole movie without romance and focused on building family dynamics. Nevermind age gaps because cartoons don't care about young men having crushes on older teen girls (Ferb and Vanessa, bubblegum and Finn, dipper and Wendy). And so I was like YEAH I CAN GET BEHIND THAT and so I did. I was around Hiro's age when I found out I was asexual and when I first watched the movie and so it was super cool I could just have the headcanon and like never have it debunked unless another movie came out or something-

And low and behold BIG HERO SIX THE SERIES and gosh a part of me was like leave the gosh darn movie alone and by itself but also I really wanted to see more of my faves, especially Tadashi because I wrote a very long fanfic of him and my oc his boyfriend with legit like only 20 minutes of Tadashi screen time. (Its called Tadashi Hamada Is Mine btw go check it out) and so I watched it and while watching it I was extremely disappointed how one dimensional the show made them, cause when you just have a movie you can imagine the characters as three dimensional as you like by inferencing stuff from montages in the movie and little things like how they move and look at each other and stuff but now you have the show that just makes Gogo the edgy one and Honey the super bright one and just archetypes that aren’t that interesting anymore.

And then they introduce these girls like Karmi and Trina and I'm like they can NOT actually be trying to give him romantic interests like are you serious?? And as I watch I notice just how uncomfortable Hiro is with her. Like at first he's seriously trying to be her friend and work with her but she’s so mean to him and for no good reason?? Like, even when she is being awful to deal with he still tries being nice and when he finds out Karmi has a crush on his hero side he gets all uncomfortable, ESPECIALLY in the fanfic episode because, yeah, who wouldn’t? It’s like one direction or kpop or youtube ship fics, it’s weird! but especially cause he isn’t interested in romance at all! He’s even annoyed that people are shipping him with Karmi in that one scene, which furthers the idea that he’s not interested at all in her.

there was that moment in the episode that Karmi met that female scientist and Hiro was jealous, and usually, cartoons make an effort to have the mc’s friends tease them about having a crush on romantic interest AKA Karmi, but the bh6 crew only commented on his jealousy for not winning the thing. 

Then Trina, he was more interested in the Botfights than her, really. He blushed after she complimented his bot-building skills because he was flattered. Creating is his main focus, his passion, and obviously, it feels nice to have that recognized, which is also why he tries so hard at school and against Karmi and to live up to Tadashi. (though yeah i could be looking wayyyy to deep into it(cause i am XD)) Anyway, he becomes Trina’s mentor, and it’s a nice change for him because after probably building stuff on his own and having Tadashi there to support him, and then losing Tadashi and having all these people at college around him just as good or even better at it than him, he started to feel, as Honey put it, insecure. Being a hero gives him confidence, which is why he’s always working on updates for their suits. The bot fighter episode was about his gambling addiction and someone being a bad influence on him, similar to Emmet and his alter ego in the Lego Movie 2. He was supposed to see himself as her, not with her.

Also there’s this:

which kinda debunks my headcanon, but there was a reason it was taken out, right? Like, the writers changed their minds and decided he wouldn’t have a crush on her! So, like, his preferences, or lack thereof, are still up in the air!!

Also, it follows through the aroace scientist thing fandom has going, like for Sherlock before people shipped him with John, or Pidge from Voltron, and characters in anime that outright say romance is stupid because they're only focused on projects.

Outside of that, it just makes me happy to have some plausible aroace rep. I'm demihetro ace myself, but it’s nice to be able to see a main character in a cartoon series not have to pay romance any attention or even want it when it inevitably comes up in conversation. Does that make sense?? anyway yeah Long Live AroAce Hiro Hamada™, he baby

[edogawatranslations]

Danganronpa Kirigiri (3) - Chapter 1, Part 1

Table of Contents | Previous: Introduction and Translation Notes

Danganronpa Kirigiri: Volume 3

Chapter 1 - The Boy and the Count

The dawn of a new year.

That was how he referred to it.[1]

What awaited us was quite possibly not simply the turn of the calendar year, but instead, the end of one era and the start of another.

January 7th.

Winter vacation had ended, ushering in the new school term.

The gentle rays of the sun streamed in through the windows, illuminating a row of my classmates’ drowsy faces. Even though the school bell had already signaled the start of class, an air of lethargy still hung over the room. The only hint of liveliness came from the pesky sound of the teacher’s chalk dancing across the blackboard.

Once recess began, I walked over to the middle school classroom.

Kyoko Kirigiri’s seat was empty.

I approached a nearby student, who confirmed to me that she was indeed absent.

—She’s been missing since that day.

That day, when we emerged victorious from the Duel Noir at Norman’s Hotel and witnessed the peculiar sight of the stage curtain behind the murder game unraveling. That place, from where the two of us escaped hand-in-hand, trembling with fear.

Thinking back to it now, parting ways afterwards was a mistake. I should never have let go of her hand. I didn’t stop her from going back to her house, as I believed that to be the safest place for her. After escorting her home, I returned to my dormitory room.

The following week was filled with nothing but ordinary days, devoid of any murder investigations or Duel Noirs. Yet, every waking moment—when I was working on homework, taking a shower, or even lying in my bed—the image of those who died weighed heavily on my mind. My heart was still deeply engrossed in the case. I couldn’t help but think that the peaceful, uneventful hours passing by marked a temporary suspension of reality.

Longing to speak with Kyoko, I tried calling her house, but nobody picked up. Not her, not even her grandfather or her live-in housekeepers. It was the same no matter when I called.

Finding it odd, I decided to stop by her house in person. Pressing the intercom button outside didn’t trigger any response. The surveillance cameras at the gate gazed coldly in my direction. From what I could see of the residence over the tall fence, all the lights were off, and nobody seemed to be home.

Did something happen to Kyoko?

Knowing that she hadn’t been coming to school, my vague anxieties cemented into grave concern.

It was almost as if Kyoko Kirigiri had been whisked away from this world.

Did the Crime Victims’ Salvation Committee finally make their move? The organization’s leader, Mikado Shinsen, was somehow connected with Kyoko’s detective grandfather. Perhaps she had gotten entangled in some trouble between the two of them.

If she had been abducted, then it would be up to a detective with a Detective Shelf Classification number of [88]—those specializing in kidnapping cases—to find her. That meant me.

I’ll save her.

—But the way things were, I had no way of knowing if she had actually been kidnapped. She couldn’t have fallen into the hands of the enemy so easily. As the sole daughter of the Kirigiri detective clan, she possessed extraordinary talent and abilities, which I had the pleasure of witnessing with my own eyes many times over.

Just where did Kyoko disappear to?

———

Tracking down missing persons was a detective’s duty.

For my first stop, I decided to pay a visit to the Detective Library, hoping that there would be a message or clue left for me there.

The Detective Library contained an archive of files with information on approximately 65,500 detectives. The collection was open to the public, making it so that anyone could freely browse through at their leisure. Any person seeking information pertaining to a detective would be wise to make it their first priority to come here.

I got off the bus once it reached the Detective Library, and slipped through the old-fashioned gates. The front porch of the building was designed with a western flair, and as I stepped onto it, I once again found myself standing in front of the portal that led to the forest of detectives.

I had come here many times in the past. Just a few days earlier, Kyoko and I had entered through these doors. Yet, on this occasion, standing before the Detective Library inspired not only the usual sense of wonder and mystery, but also a certain feeling of dread that a formidable darkness lay within its walls.

That apprehension was most likely the result of me having been through two Duel Noirs. I couldn’t help but imagine that the dark shadow of the Crime Victims’ Salvation Committee was cast over the Detective Library.

On the surface, the Detective Library labeled itself a neutral institution, free from the influence of all outside organizations. But was that really the truth?

Mikado Shinsen, the architect of the Crime Victims’ Salvation Committee, was one of the individuals who played a key role in establishing the Detective Library fifteen years ago. The detectives summoned for Duel Noirs were determined on the basis of their DSC rank. Furthermore, the detectives with the highest DSC rank of [000] had apparently joined forces with Shinsen.[2]

Considering the facts, it wouldn’t have been at all surprising if the Detective Library and the Crime Victims’ Salvation Committee were secretly conspiring with one another.

If that were the case, then I was about to venture into the enemy base all alone.

Everything was fine. I wasn’t scared—

At least, I hadn’t been before I stepped off the bus.

To compensate for my fright, I marched through the doors towards the counter with my head held high, though I don’t think I was able to completely mask the fear on my face.

“Are there any messages for me?” I asked, flashing my Detective Library ID card to the grizzle-haired staff member at the counter. The thought that he could be part of the sinister organization crossed my mind.

He took my card into his hands and glanced at it before shaking his head. “There are none.”

“Then... Please update my record,” I requested.

With sluggish movements, the employee turned to the nearby computer and inserted my card into the terminal.

After a brief moment, he said, “There are no updates for you.”

“Wait, really?”

The employee gave a silent nod and handed me back my card.

Sure, maybe I wasn’t much help during the last Duel Noir, but I still expected my rank to increase by at least one. Alas, reality was unforgiving.

I stepped away from the counter and made my way into the archive room.

Countless files lined the organized rows of bookcases. The room was deserted and still, with the silence broken only by the sound of my footsteps echoing off the lofty ceiling. I weaved through the aisles until I reached the [9] section—homicide detectives.

I located Kyoko’s file, pulled it out, and flipped it open.

Nothing in her file had changed since the last time I visited. There was still not a single word written about the Norman’s Hotel case. It was possible that there was no record because Kyoko wasn’t summoned as the detective for that Duel Noir.

No, but the Sirius Observatory case was clearly listed in her file, even though she hadn’t been selected as the detective back then either.

Then, perhaps no record of the case existed because it hadn’t been made public. There were no reports of the case on TV or in the newspapers.

An idea suddenly popped into my head. I shuffled over to the [900] shelf and found the file for Suisei Nanamura, the double-zero class detective summoned for the Norman’s Hotel case.

His file overflowed with his glowing accomplishments. However, nothing alluded to the conclusion of the most recent case. Detectives who passed away normally had their profile column updated with their year of death, but Nanamura’s file contained nothing of the sort.

I had no doubt that Nanamura was dead. After all, he shot his head with a pistol, right before my very eyes. His body, along with the entire hotel, folded into the scenery and vanished into thin air.

Mikado Shinsen had folded his handkerchief inches from my face, and at the same time, the scenery behind it had been folded up as well. The whole scenario felt like a dream.

But Kyoko assured me that all of it was real.

“His handkerchief prevented you from witnessing the scene, but I can confirm that the hotel flipped into the ground,” she said.

“‘Flipped into’?”

After the case had concluded, the two of us returned to investigate where the hotel had stood, and we discovered the slightest of gaps beneath the base of the wall encompassing the area. According to Kyoko, the hotel had been standing on a thick board-like foundation that had a revolving axis running through its center, forming a mechanism that made it possible to flip the building into the ground to transform the property into a vacant plot of land. The wall served as camouflage, obscuring the gaps in the dirt.

Kyoko nodded. “You theorized that the walls in the hotel rooms rotated to create the locked rooms. But it wasn’t the walls that could flip—it was the building itself.”

The reason Mikado Shinsen used his handkerchief to block my view was likely to momentarily conceal the apparatus. A trick often used by magicians and illusionists alike.

Kyoko continued, “A device of unimaginable proportions would be required to smoothly rotate a building that large into the ground without making a sound. Perhaps all the locations used for Duel Noirs have mechanisms set up that allow them to appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. The buildings are normally kept out of sight, and only surface when a murder game is about to unfold.”

“Then how do you explain the surrounding scenery being folded up and vanishing?”

“I think it did exactly that—folded up and vanished. The background was likely designed so that it could be easily disassembled at any time, like folding backdrops used in plays. Since we can think of Duel Noirs as a kind of production, it wouldn’t be strange if even the scenery was constructed as part of the stage.”

Kyoko expressed confidence in her theory, but I couldn’t shake my skepticism. The Crime Victims’ Salvation Committee planned numerous crimes in many different locations. Did they really have the capacity to design all those elaborate devices and portable sceneries? All the money in the world didn’t seem like enough to accomplish that.

Money wasn’t the only limiting factor. The organization also needed a sufficient number of stagehands. Preparing and dismantling the set required a considerable amount of manpower, but the more people involved in the production, the more vulnerable the organization was to having its secrets leaked.

And yet, Duel Noirs were still being held without arousing public suspicion. Who knew how many challenges had been issued? However large the organization was, it must have been extremely meticulous and methodical in its affairs.

Just how many people were involved with the Crime Victims’ Salvation Committee? Was I simply too oblivious to realize that I was walking amongst its rank and file every day?

That thought caused chills to run through my body.

When Shinsen and the other Committee members left the scene that day, they made clear to us their tremendous financial power and their organizational capacity. And perhaps more terrifying, their ability to turn even the most ridiculous nightmares into reality...

If I had more thoroughly searched the scene back then, maybe I could’ve at least unearthed Nanamura’s corpse. As long as he and the other victims’ bodies remained undiscovered, the case would likely never see the light of day.

I let out a heavy sigh and returned Nanamura’s file back to its place on the shelf.

Perhaps a great number of the detectives listed in these archives were associates of the Crime Victims’ Salvation Committee.

Then, how many truly dignified detectives remained in the world? Even the triple-zero class detectives, who commanded the respect of many, belonged to the enemy camp.

I couldn’t let my guard down. The scene before me right this instant may very well have been a manufactured illusion.

With Kyoko missing, there was nobody whom I could place my trust in. How would I go about discerning between fact and fiction?

In the end, the Detective Library offered no clues relating to Kyoko’s whereabouts.

Since the library’s closing time drew near, I started making my way to the room’s exit. My eyes may have been playing tricks on me, but the room seemed to grow ever-so-slightly dimmer. The lamp above the door flickered on.

In the faint light, I motioned to step through the door frame, when all of a sudden—

A figure appeared, slipped past me, and entered the room.

A sweet scent lingered after them and found its way into my nostrils. The smell wasn’t artificial like a perfume; it was more pleasant and nostalgic, something that reminded me of flowers blooming at dawn.

The person who passed me was a young boy with bright, colorful hair.

He was dressed in a vest like an adult, with a suit jacket draped over his right arm. Without making a sound, he continued walking. I only managed to catch a glimpse of his face the split second we passed one another, but it was enough to make me gulp.

I had seen him somewhere before.

He wasn’t someone from my past, however. Rather, he reminded me of an angel in one of those religious paintings, or a sprite from a fairy tale gamboling in the sunlight. He was a pretty boy who looked strangely familiar, yet whose existence had to be that of a phantasmal being not of this world.

I spun around to try to get another look at him, but he had already disappeared. The faint aroma lingering in the air indicated where he went.

I felt like I had just seen a ghost.

Was that kid looking for a detective?

Something about him captured my imagination, but I decided not to dwell on things any further, and left the Detective Library empty-handed. To me, finding Kyoko was more important than wondering about some mysterious boy.

[1] (TN: "He” being Mikado Shinsen at the end of Volume 2.) [2] (TN: At the end of Volume 2, Yui and Kyoko see two of the three triple-zero class detectives—Gekka Ryuuzouji and Johnny Arp—leaving the scene of the hotel with Mikado Shinsen.)

Next: Chapter 1, Part 2

[percywinchester27]

I believe I owe y’all an apology.

I seriously do. What with the disappearing, erratic posting schedule, or rather the non existent posting schedule. And more than that the cryptic “dot posts.” I’ve been told those are not appreciated much around here lately. So for that I am sorry. I had no intention to worry any of you. Ever. 

I am bad with responding to attention, concern or even care. So, naturally, when I most need it the most, I back off. Especially from the people who can and will help.

The reason behind that is actually a boy. Once upon a time, Ana was a dumb girl, and she opened up to a guy who didn’t have it in him handle all the darkness in her. In his defense, he really thought he could handle it. But he couldn’t. And he left me high and dry when I needed him the most. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t romantically interested in him and neither was he. He was the bestest friend I could have ever asked for. We fit in like a hand in the glove. I had never trusted anyone so much in my whole life. I think it got too much for him. He thought being friends with me was “suffocating” and then one day he suddenly stopped talking to me. Out of the blue. We went out on a walk and he said he didn’t want to be friends anymore. Didn’t even tell me why. I was so stunned, that I couldn’t open my mouth to ask that “why?”

It took me months to find the courage to text him and ask, and that’s when I got the “suffocating” part of it.

I still remember that day clearly. He said his goodbye and I stood there in the middle of the street. My mom found me there, standing numbly. Not speaking, not moving, and I remember hugging her and breaking down. In the middle of a busy street. I made an epic spectacle out of myself. And she got so panicked, she thought someone had died. And for the longest time, I thought so, too. I thought that he was dead to me now. My best friend.

But in retrospect, I think a part of me died. 

Funny how I still remember that day because for 6 months after that, I remember nothing. It is all blank. I don’t remember that entire semester of college, except that the GPA sucked ass. What I remember is one day a kid in my class telling me that I don’t laugh like I used to, that I have blank eyes. And I remember what I was wearing that day, too. But nothing about the 6 months before that.

Can you imagine the horror of having half an year wiped out of your memory. Can you imagine living with a girl who did not respond to anything? I am sure my family must have been out of their minds over me. But I can’t remember that either.

And all for what? A boy?

It might seem shallow now. In fact, it does seem that way to me sometimes, too. But I had put so much of me in him. Secrets that I don’t even whisper to myself anymore. Trauma, pain, anger, frustration, everything. I am a shy girl. It is not like me to do something like this now, or even then.

For people who have followed me longer might have seen one particularly harsh outburst over an anon rudely insisting on smut. Or rather pointing out the lack of it, thereby heavily judging my inability to write it. For those of you who are new, the reason I don’t read, write smut is because for most part, I can’t relate. The other part is that I have a severe aversion, fear of touch. Not the kind that is romanticized in fifty shades of Grey. (I get that a lot from people who find out), but the real deal. I have to be fully dressed all the time. Full sleeves, full pants. I clam up at the slightest hint of contact with someone’s skin. Travel everyday in packed trains covered in head to toe, sweating, trying to control a palpitating heart. Now, imagine growing up like that in high school.

This guy was the first person outside of my mom to actually ever hug me. And I am not ashamed to admit that it felt good. That sort of platonic acceptance was the best thing to have happened. How could I not have been influenced by something like that? 

So, yes, I was a mess after he for want of a better word “dumped” me. And if it was in anyway a bad friendship to him, I understand. He did what was best for himself. I can respect that.

What I can’t get behind is that, he did it without giving me a reason. He just upped and left without giving me a closure. That was cowardly. And gosh I suffered, wondering what I did wrong, where I went wrong. The sleepless nights, the bone-crushing self doubt. The word “suffocating” haunts my very existence still.

Which brings me to the point. The point is, even after 5 years, it is too deeply ingrained in me that no one can actually completely accept me for who I am. You might love me completely, but on a subconscious level, I can’t ever truly accept that. Trust me, it drives abf insane. I think that if I start sharing, at first you might sympathise, or even empathise, but gradually, it will fade away. I’ll just end up becoming the person that has too many problems, is too whiny. You will get used to it. You’ll become indifferent. You will start avoiding me. I’ve seen it happen. So much so that, when I’ve wanted to tell people that I had a bad day, something gets stuck in my throat. I just feel like I don’t deserve people’s time, love or attention.

And. It.is.so.suffocating!! To not be able to talk, To not be able to share. Ironically, I am the one slowly suffocating now.  

So my go to solution is to back-off. Because the only thing that brought me out of those 6 months of numbness is my self-respect. Not once did I go begging to him to take me back, not once did I cry, or plead or even try to contact him to fix things. I knew walking with my head held high was the only way I was going to walk out of that mess. And I was right. Still proud of me for that one.

People talked behing my back what a mess I had become. After the fallout, everyone assumed I must be the one who fucked up. He couldn’t have, right? The charming guy that he was. And me being me, didn’t go up to people to explain what had actually happened. The one time I tried, no one believed me. So, I quit. Had to protect all that self-respect, right?

From then on, my motto is to just not put a part of myself into people. That way it won’t hurt when they toss it out and leave. I could be having a wrecking party in life, but I don’t put it out here because I know your lives are wrecking parties, too. You come here for an escape. I am not dragging you into my cluster fuck.

Last year, I had an accident, 2 major surgeries. I was going home from an interview and within a span of 5 minutes there was blood all over the taxi seat. That was followed by 2 awful months of jaundice followed by typhoid, followed by typhoid again and a relapse of jaundice. But, I don’t remember missing the update for my series more than a week at a stretch. 

Lately, though, I have a hectic schedule. I work a 10-6 job. But I am also doing my masters in History. So it is 8-10 library, 10-6 job, 7-10 college. I reach home at 12 in the night. The only way I can function is by getting the bare 6 hours of sleep I can cram up in the remaining hours. 

Don’t get me wrong, though, I am not complaining. It was my choice to set up a schedule like this. I love learning about Ancient China, about how the Parisians were ready to kill anybody and everybody as an aftermath of what happened in 1789. I love spending hours under the high-ceiling of the Library. Also, I love working in a place that helps people, tries to save the city. But it can get overwhelming like you wouldn’t believe. The number of times I have cried from just a pure overdose of knowledge and emotion. And it hurts a little that I can’t share that. That for a supposed writer, I can’t put that into words. That crying is the only thing left to do. Those aren’t sad tears. They are just tears. 

But, apart from that, I am also a daughter, a sister, an aunt, an loosely and lamely a friend to people who are far far better at friendship than I am. I am fighting for the kids in that Orphanage, I am trying to learn Photoshop I just don’t have the sort of time to write like I used to. On most days, though, I am good.

For when I am not, there will be the occasional dot posts. Not because I want to worry you, it’s because slowly but surely I am learning to reach out. I am slow and bad at it, but rest assured, I am trying. And who knows, maybe one day, I can trust myself enough to trust others with me again.

Till then, thank you for being so patient with me and the blog. You guys are awesome and much more than.

My immense gratitude. And all my love <3

-Ana <3 

[owlways-and-forever]

Summary: Lily Evans thought her life would be normal. Well, as normal as it can be for a muggle-born witch in England. But when her boyfriend turns out to be the prince of the wizarding world, and tensions begin to rise among factions of wizarding society, Lily must find her way in situations she never anticipated, and try not to lose sight of her identity. Word Count: 2,462 (18,857) Links: ao3 | FFnet | Tumblr: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4

A/N: Whoohooo, you guys get an early update this week! I'll be traveling tonight and tomorrow, and I don't want to give you a late update, so early it is! This chapter is sort of a continuation of last week's, and I hope you enjoy it.As always, please leave feedback, I love to hear it all!<3

Lils,

Here’s the thing. From what you said, you have four major objections to being with me in the long run. 1. You’d have to sacrifice a career. 2. You couldn’t be involved in the war. 3. You feel we couldn’t have private lives. 4. You feel that I’m a different person as Prince James. I understand why those are all important points for you, and why you feel you would have to make sacrifices to be with me. But I hope you can see that there are ways around those sacrifices, or at least ways of managing them.

Career

There’s no beating around the push here, you absolutely would have to give up any career you might have in mind. Royalty, at least those in line for the throne, can’t have a job because being the monarch (or monarch-in-training) is the job. So yeah, you couldn’t be a healer. But you wouldn’t be twiddling your thumbs at home all day, you wouldn’t be seen as just a broodmare, and you would be making a difference in the world. I don’t believe that the monarchy is just for show. I believe that we have value. Lily, the money and influence we are fortunate enough to have is ours to use as we please. We can benefit charities, help those who are struggling in this world. Beyond that, we get to meet with other state representatives, and we get a chance at diplomacy. There’s so much we can do with that, Lily. We can change the world.

The War

I don’t know if Dumbledore’s approached you about the Order of the Phoenix yet. I don’t think he’s talked to many people, but I know he’s planning on trying to recruit the graduating students. But he’s been talking to Remus about it for a while (for obvious reasons) and Remus told Sirius, Peter and me. It’s a secret army, Lils. We can totally fight, and no one would ever have to know. Or at least, no one outside the Order. But even if that isn’t appealing, I’m going to talk to my parents about this. Because this war isn’t just politics as usual, it’s bigger than that, and I don’t think we can, in good conscience, remain neutral. I’ve been doing research, and even though it hasn’t happened in the wizarding world, there are times when muggle monarchs took sides in politics, about big issues like this, when the world is burning and we can’t just sit idly by. The Windsor family has even served in the military, sometimes during wars. So there is a precedent in the muggle world, and I think this is a time when we should follow their example. We have to do something - it’s our responsibility to do something.

Privacy

What I propose is this: when we’re not out on royal business, we find a way to live as normal a life as possible. We have Hollow House that we can live in, and treat the Palace as more of an office. With any luck, it’ll be a long time before my parents… well, before we take the throne, and our responsibilities as monarchs kick in in full force. When we’re old and grey and our children are grown, who knows, it might not be as important to us that we keep the two worlds separate. We can raise our children from Hollow House, give them normal lives. And before you say that’s not possible, we’d be recognized as soon as we left the house, remember, there are glamour spells that can help us blend in, as well as spells to make us unmemorable to anyone who sees us. I’m sure I could find a way to apply the spells to the doorway as well, so that it would be charmed to apply them for us anytime we walked out, rather than having to remember all the time. But the point is, there are ways to make it work, so that we can live normal lives, and not have people and the press infringing upon them constantly.

Me

This is undoubtedly the hardest point. I don’t agree with you that I am, or will be, a different person. But I suspect that nothing I say will really change your mind on this matter. You have to feel it, and have faith in me. Trust that I will still make you laugh with stupid jokes. I’ll still wrestle with Sirius and sneak off with the boys to transform on full moons and keep Remus safe. I’ll still do dumb things, and I’ll still love you with my entire being. I’ll always tell you things that I wouldn’t tell anyone else, and love the mornings that I wake up next to you (or intertwined with you). You say I’ll be different, but the only things that will change will be my living arrangements and my daily activities. Nothing about who I am will ever be any different, not with you. You are the person who allows me to be my true self, both a boy and a prince.

Lily, I love you so much, and I want to make this work, and to reassure you that everything will be alright. I am all in when it comes to this. There’s no one else that I want to be with, now or anytime in the future. You’re it. But now it’s time for you to decide whether I am what you want. If you love me, and you want me, I trust that we can find a way to make everything else work for us. But you have to be sure. Take the time you need to think about it, I’m not going anywhere.

Forever yours (if you want me),

James

Lily folded the letter and tucked it into the pocket of her robes. There was too much in it for her to process during the five minutes that were left of her lunch break, she needed time and space and to be alone somewhere. Mostly Lily just needed to think. Which felt absurd to her, because it felt like over the rest of Easter break, she had done nothing but think. Mostly about how much she already missed James. Lily quickly brushed away the tears that were gathering in the corners of her eyes, sniffing as quietly as possible.

Excusing herself, Lily pushed away from the Gryffindor table, needing to be as far from everyone, especially James, as possible. She could feel his eyes on her, not even intentionally, just because he was drawn to her, as she so often was to him. Even now, part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms and let him hold her and soothe all her worries. But she couldn’t do that, not until she knew what she was going to do about them.

She let her feet carry her without thinking about where she was going, and soon found herself in the Potions classroom. Lily walked among the shelves lining the back wall, running her hands over the old volumes sitting there. She pushed open the door of the store cupboard, and took stock of the ingredients that filled it. All the makings of something wonderful and magical, just waiting to be combined just so.

“Miss Evans?”

Lily whipped around, startled by the voice behind her. She had not heart Professor Slughorn come in, but she supposed it meant that lunch was over. She didn’t particularly want to go to Transfiguration - she didn’t much fancy struggling over material she couldn’t quite grasp in front of James of all people. She wished she could stay and brew potions all afternoon, and maybe even brew herself a cure for the headache she was in.

“Is everything quite alright, Miss Evans?” Professor Slughorn asked, taking a seat at his desk and eyeing her with some intensity.

“Yes, Professor,” she answered. “I just have rather a lot on my mind today.”

“Has it something to do with young Mister Potter?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in intrigue.

“Something, yes,” Lily said, unsure of how much to discuss with her professor. She had always been rather close with Professor Slughorn, but even so, she was wary of crossing a line.

“You should know, Miss Evans,” he said delicately, trying to gauge how much she knew, “that all professors at Hogwarts are kept apprised of any alternate… identities… of any of the students.”

“You know?” Lily asked, and Professor Slughorn let out a relieved sigh.

“Yes, my dear, and I can assure you that anything you might wish to discuss on the topic would be utterly confidential,” he replied, waiting patiently to see what she might say.

“It’s just… I’m not sure that his other identity is something that I’m okay with,” Lily said truthfully.

“It is who he is, Miss Evans,” Professor Slughorn answered simply.

“But -”

“Miss Evans, do you know why his parents chose to keep his identity a secret?” he asked her, posing it like a riddle.

“They wanted him to have a normal life,” she said, confident in her response.

“No,” Professor Slughorn tutted, and Lily felt like a dimwitted child. “No, they did it so that he could have the opportunity the find out who he was without others watching, so that when he is in the spotlight, he can do so with full confidence in himself. He won’t waver. The truth is that he will always share a part of his mind, and his heart, with you that he doesn’t share with anyone else. And that, my dear, is true of every true partnership, royal or not.”

“I suppose,” Lily said, thoughtfully, seeing the sense in his words. “But what if that life isn’t what I want? There are real sacrifices that I would have to make…”

“Miss Evans, every relationship requires sacrifices of some kind,” Professor Slughorn replied, his voice somewhat impatient with her. “If you love him, the sacrifice is worthwhile. And think of what you would gain. A platform! A voice to be heard! Think of all the people you could influence, all the people you could help.”

“They’re not allowed to have opinions, sir,” Lily scoffed, rolling her eyes at the bookshelf.

“They’re allowed to have actions,” he replied, giving Lily a meaningful look.

She thought about his words for a long moment, weighing the pros and cons, but it gave her no clarity. Her mind was as muddled as it had been before, and she still had no idea what to do. She felt like she was at war with herself.

“Your heart knows the right answer, Miss Evans,” Professor Slughorn advised her, sneaking a box of crystalized pineapple from his desk and extracting a slice. “Don’t make the mistake of ignoring it.”

With that, Lily assumed that she was dismissed, and she ducked out of the Potions classroom with a quick “Thank you, sir.” As she walked down the corridor, a small slip of parchment sped past her through the air, and she blinked in surprise. Another flitted past, before coming to a stop in front of her, and Lily reached out to take it. She unfolded the parchment and gazed at the writing scrawled across it, smiling to herself.

Miss Evans has been excused from class. Please allow her to spend this period in the library under my authority.

Professor H. Slughorn.

Lily made her way to the library, handing it over to Madam Pince as soon as she stepped through the door. The librarian squinted at Lily and examined the note suspiciously, but eventually nodded her assent, and Lily found a seat in a quiet corner. There were very few other students there, since hardly anyone had a free period right after lunch, and Lily found it was an excellent spot to stew over her feelings.

She couldn’t deny that when she tried to stop listening to her mind whirring, her heart seemed pretty clear about what it wanted, and that was James. If she gave her heart a voice, every rational argument she could make had the same reply - but it’s James. She trusted him implicitly, and she knew in that moment that she would always take a chance on him. Because really, would any of the other stuff matter if he wasn’t by her side?

The clock ticked on and Lily bounded out of her seat, needing to see James, to talk to him, now that her mind was made up. She sped through the halls until she reached the Charms classroom, skidding to a stop outside the door. Lily glanced at her watch - class should be getting out any minute. She took a deep breath and fixed her hair, pulling the end of her ponytail from where it had stuck to her lips.

The door opened and seventh-year students spilled out, looking tired and overwhelmed, and Lily guessed that they had started their last topic for N.E.W.T.s. She tapped her feet, waiting for James to appear, and when he did, she felt her heart stop. Without thinking, Lily launched herself into his arms, pressing her lips hard against his. She felt him smiling into their kiss, an added reassurement that he would always be the same James for her. He pulled away, examining her, trying to read her mind through her eyes.

“So…?” he asked, his voice endearingly hopeful.

“So, you’re stuck with me,” Lily informed him, her grasp on him tightening slightly.

“No more doubts?” he said, still a little hesitant.

“Some doubts,” she confessed, not wanting to keep secrets from him. “But complete faith in you… in us.”

James grinned, happier than Lily had ever seen him, and he kissed her again and again, before Sirius smacked him on the back and told them to get a room. They couldn’t keep the smiles off their faces as they walked, hand in hand, to their next class. Nothing could keep them apart, not now, not anymore.

[hillyans]

Characters: Pey’j

This post will be updated when new information comes out.

Species: Hybrid (pig/human)

Born: 2385 (age ?? in BGE2, age 50 in BGE1)

Gender: Male

Shares DNA with: Unnamed Pey’j clone, Player Character

Occupation: chief cook of the Gada in BGE2, handyman, inventor, and chief of the IRIS Network on Hillys in BGE1

Relationships: Jade (unknown in BGE2, adoptive niece in BGE1) Dakini (captain) Knox (fellow crew member) Shani (fellow crew member) Callum (fellow crew member) Uma (fellow crew member) Geneva (aunt; unseen character)

Status: Alive

In BGE2

Chief Cook and a familiar face to most of you Space Monkeys who know and love Pey’j from the original Beyond Good and Evil! In this prequel, he’s still the beloved-uncle type who believes in tough love and has a penchant for a certain Old-Earth alcohol, which is the not-so-secret ingredient in the dishes he cooks up for the crew.                         - Official Site, 9/27/18

BGE2 Development:

6/12/17 E3 2017 Trailer Breakdown:

Chris: Now, I know I'm not the only one who looked at this and heard:

[Zhou Yuzhu: "Peyjin."]

Chris: What he said just there, and thought of our beloved Uncle Pey'j from BGE.

Michel: Right! There is a direct connection, you know, so he's very clearly saying "Peyjin" which is kind of a divinity for this kind of hybrid. It's a way to add depth and to show how deep the world can be. And even though those hybrids are created by humans, they have their own religion. Because BGE2 is a prequel to BGE1, we want to add a lot of details about how the world is, those names, "Pey'j"... is it a common name, a divinity name, so... Sometimes you know, in some religions, you give the name of a divinity to a boy or a girl... So all these details are here to make people understand more about the world of BGE.

2/28/18 Instagram: Michel Ancel posts a picture of a bust that looks suspiciously a lot like Pey’j.

6/8/18 Instagram: Ancel teases artwork from E3 2018. “A good friend of mine is back in Beyond Good and Evil 2 . Get prepared for more surprises during the 2018 UbiSoft E3 conference !!!”

6/11/18 E3 2018: Pey’j is shown in the trailer. “And Pey'j is back as the the incorrigible Chief Cook of the Gada.”

6/11/18 E3 2018 Trailer Breakdown (video):

I think last year people sort of thought when they saw Zhou Yuzhu, the big hybrid from the criminal underworld, that perhaps that was Pey'j. So it's pretty cool this year that it actually is Pey'j. We were super excited about being able to reveal the fact that he's going to be in BGE2.

...

Pey'j, as you can see in this image, is carrying Knox, who was wounded. You can see how close these guys are. They've probably been flying in space for a very long time in this crew and they know each other very well and they're always helping each other.

6/11/18 Instagram: Ancel says that even though Jade has forgotten her past, Pey’j remembers. 

9/28/2019 Inside Look of Beyond Good and Evil 2 with Ubisoft Montpellier - 2019 ZBRush Summit:

"So let's start with Pey'j. Pey'j is probably one of the most iconic characters in BGE. Originally, he is the best friend of Jade, who is the main character of this game, so you can imagine the importance of him. Our goal was to bring a new vision of him without destroying the old one. So how did we do that? First step: we start with some 2D artwork, just to figure out which emotion we want to give him, what narrative part that he will have, and at this stage, everything is possible. The only question which is important is "what makes Pey'j's identity?

Secondly, Pey'j has got a very long history. And I don't know if you've noticed, but in the original BGE which was more cartoony, Pey'j was based on a really round, primitave shape. And, well, it makes him much more easy to recognize. So while we decide to keep this philosophy, but we decide to pass from a round shape to a more hexagonal shape just to bring a more mature and tough feeling. So that's why I use a weight on the screen as a symbol of what emotion we want to give to Pey'j. This shape process I think is a very simple way to communicate with the character artist. That's all the process is based on. Collaboration between the concept artist and the character artist, we need those kinds of tools to speak together."

...

“We start with the most complicated part of this character, it's the head. So Sebastien gives me concept art of his head and asked: "try to match it". Okay, so I have made a rough, and as you can see, ugly model of Pey'j after some couple of hours. And then, Sebastien provided me with comprehensive feedback of the character he wants. At the beginning of the process, all the feedback is "macro feedback". And I make my ping-pong with him, and after that other feedback, going more in detail in the character. And that was done."

Pey’j in BGE1

Media

Profile (official website):

Age: 50

Occupation: Handyman

Personality: Grumpy, yet attentive and endearing, Pey’j is a fighter who’s seen and done it all. He’s often seen hanging out in the Akuda Bar with a stiff drink and a cigar, telling jokes and old stories of his life experiences.

Special Skills: A mechanical and electronic genius, Pey’j is renowned for his skills as a handyman and his ability to fix anything he gets his hands on. He keeps Jade’s equipment up and running, and is constantly inventing new gadgets and machines for Jade Reporting - or just for the fun of it...

Background: Pey’j is a hybrid being - half-man and half-hog. He’s Jade’s adoptive uncle and has brought her up since she was a child. Despite his reservations and fears, he’s been a great influence and tutor for Jade, and still tries to protect her and help her out with her missions whenever he can.

Current Residence: Pey’j lives on the small island in Hyllis with Jade in a cozy lighthouse that he built from scratch many years ago.

Vehicle: Pey’j doesn’t like to drive – Jade’s usually behind the wheel. He does take care of all the vehicles mechanically, though, and he has a special place in his heart for his famed Beluga Spaceship.

Prized Possession: His Jet Boots – a one-of-a-kind invention that allows Pey’j to blast himself or other objects high into the air.

What He’s Doing Now: Pey’j spends a lot of time with Jade - in fact, you will usually find him right by her side on her reporting missions. Otherwise, Pey’j spends most of his time in his workshop, although no one is really sure what he does down there!

Official Guide (Bradygames):

Characters: Meet Jade’s adoptive uncle and cantankerous right-hand pig. Pey’j is a mechanic and inventor-- indeed, a couple of his inventions play a large role in this adventure. Use his Super Action Jet Boots stomp to bounce certain opponents into the air so Jade can bat them into distant targets. His dogged (or perhaps we should say pigged) loyalty keeps him at Jade’s side despite his reservations about the evolving adventure.

Live Chat Interview with Michel Ancel 10/21/2003: 

Question 6: (BircGuest-24085213): Hello - How much of a part will Jade's friend 'Pey’J' play in the game?

(Michel): Pey’J is very important in the story and for the gameplay. You'll spend about one third of the game with him but , for the other part, he will still have a very important role (but I can t say too much.... )

...

Question 12: (dreamdancer5): why is Pey’J styled like a pig? and not like a man or anything else?

(Michel): please, instead of snipe, read style in the "having their own...." sentence....I m sooooo tired.....need some holidays :).... (Michel): I like the spirit of self derision. Pey’J is very important; he's got a strong personality but looks like a beast. I believe that most of us have more inside that outside our appearance. If you finish the game, you’ll see what I mean.

Early Storyboard: (unused and revised in final game)

Age: 56

Race: Hybrid clone          Sn-b5234

Name: Pey’j

In-game Dialogue & Cutscenes (SPOILERS)

“For Jade” Mdisk:

Jade, You inherited generosity and courage from your parents. You know, I think about them a lot. We were very close friends.

Twenty years ago we were forced to separate because we were all having some major problems with the authorities. Your parents put you under my care… to save your life…

We came to Hillys. Back then, it was a peaceful planet. I had hoped to raise you there safely. But the conflict spread. Now, you must know something… if I was able to get here, it was thanks to the "Beluga”, the spaceship that I designed and built with your father.

It still exists. But I haven’t exactly finished getting it back in top shape. You’ll find the check-up report on my desk.

The “Beluga” is at our place. You have to enter a code into each one of the consoles to open the secret hiding place. I can’t say any more on this Mdisk about it, but I hope this information will be useful to you, if, one day, you have to use the “Beluga”.

No matter what happens, good luck, Jade…

Uncle Pey'j

DomZ Priest (cutscene):

DOMZ PRIEST: Shauuuuuuuuniiiiii. You have finally come back to me… You have served your master well, Shauni. You alone have brought the Hillyans to me. They have followed you blindly.

HH: Miss Jade ?!

DOMZ PRIEST: DorthKaul  Pahkahn! You are not who you think you are. The pig has hidden your origins from you…

PEY'J: Jade!  NO!!  Don’t listen to him! Hhh!… Aaaarrh!…

DOMZ PRIEST: You are the source of my powers the instrument of my strength. They took you away in the hope of destroying me. But I have survived, feeding me with only the most miserable of sacrifices. They made you human. But you are not like them. You are mine, Shauni, and I am going to kill the human part of you.

HH: Jade!!

DOMZ PRIEST: Shauni DomZ ThindraaaHHH!!

[danbevanwriting]

The Ranking of Final Fantasy: Final Fantasy III

Final Fantasy III is the second game that the West didn't see an official localised version until many years later. Initially released a few years after Final Fantasy II in Japan, it was remade with a new localisation and 3D update 26 years later in 2006 on Nintendo DS. This game is important in the lineage of the series as it's the one that set the motifs of the series; Chocobos, Cid as a recurring character, Job specific actions, even some of the designs of iconic jobs that are still used today. But was the game worth the long wait for Western audiences?

The version of the game I played (and will continue to play from here on out) is the version available of Steam, which is itself a version of the mobile port. The only real differences between these versions and the DS remake is the User Interface, which I personally didn't kind too off putting despite looking a bit clunky. The content and graphics are otherwise the same as the DS version. Upfront I'll say that I like the style of the 3D remake. It retains the chibi-esque style for the characters that the series is known for during the NES/ SNES era. The world is colourful and benefits from the 3D modelling by giving the world more character through the use of added details to the floor tiles. The game was no slouch on the NES either though, it definitely improved graphics compared to previous games, with unique sprites for each job that the characters could take and battles looking more impressive than ever. It's honestly quite impressive what Square managed to do with the NES, even if there was a few assets clearly still being used from the original game (mostly world map town and castles looking very similar, and the warrior sprite being literally the same from Final Fantasy I).

Basic gameplay is untouched during the exploration of the world from previous games. You're still walking through dungeons picking up items, fighting random battles, talking to townsfolk to gather clues for how to advance forward. The wrinkle this game provided to the formula is that each character can change their 'job' whenever they want from a growing selection. This means that you're not stuck with the same class set up from the get-go like in the original game and characters more instantly specialise unlike in FF2. Bored of your current set up? Just change that White Mage to a Red Mage, or try an all offensive group of melee brawlers! In the remake the only downside to switching is that there's a 'cooling off' period after switching in which you have to fight a certain amount of battles with lowered stats before becoming normal. Stats don't carry over between jobs either, with the only permanent change being HP, which does lead to an issue where characters who didn't play much as melee characters can end the game with a disadvantageous amount of health (this is definitely something that happened to me). Overall though this is a rather fun system to experiment with, keeping me engaged throughout most of the game's playtime.

Situations that the game throws at you sometimes lead to influencing your party composition. This comes with some mixed results though. The more interesting of these is where you have to go through a dungeon while being mini, meaning that physical attacks are useless. This means that the best way through these dungeons is to bring a party of casters, which definitely mixes things up and is interesting to think and plan around. A situation which isn't as good however is during a part of the game where you're stranded in a town area and the only way to get out is to beat the boss of the area: Garuda. The problem with this part of the game is that if you don't take a party of Dragoons (which the game heavily implies you should do) then you are already dead. Only Dragoon gear is attainable and the boss' weakness is spears but this doesn't make this interesting as there's only one solution to the encounter. A similar issue occurs during a late game dungeon where the only way to get through without pulling your hair out is to bring a party of Dark Knights to stop all the normal enemies you encounter from duplicating themselves. The problem with this is that Dark Knights are basically worthless outside of this dungeon as they don't bring much of interest in terms of their abilities. The 'getting mini or turning to a toad to get in to the dungeon' gimmick also starts to wear thin by the end of the game, mostly because it wastes 2 charges of magic to get the party small or warty and then back again. It's nothing game breaking but it becomes a tired gimmick by the end of the game.

The dungeon design in general is much improved over the last game, however. Gone are the trap rooms that yielded nothing but crushed dreams and a thousand random battles. The dungeons now are a bit more linear with off shoots from the main path that more often than not have some goodies to pick up. None of them are overly complex to the point that you'd get lost and none of them ever really last too long either. Dungeons even have a bit of characteristics with them as they often have unique designs apart from a couple of the optional dungeons which are just generic cave dungeons. Otherwise they're fine, nothing to really complain about or overly praise either to be honest.

Final Fantasy III does not try to tell a story as ambitious as Final Fantasy II's, although it is still more fleshed out than the original game's. In the remake the developers tried to give each of the 4 heroes their own personality and backstory but it's rather thin and doesn't amount to much by the end. It's still more than the nothing you're given in the NES original (although your characters spoke between each other, there was never names attached to lines and they never really said anything profound). Characters in general are rather thin to be honest, there's no character dynamics I found to be memorable and even a lot of the major characters are more plot device than characters. Cid's got a wife in this one though, so that's... nice! What is interesting about the game is the world building that the game does. This isn't any more evident than when you realise that the world map you started on is only a tiny part and is actually just a small floating island in the corner of the map. You get out, and the world is covered in a thick fog that you need to disperse. It's interesting, and the build up to the Crystal Tower at the end is a fun experience as you uncover parts of the world and how the darkness has affected parts of it. The conclusion is rather limp though, with the guy you've been chasing throughout the game not actually being the last boss but actually being manipulated by an even greater threat known as the Cloud of Darkness! Gasp! This is another theme that ends up being carried forward in to the series too. Unfortunately, the Cloud of Darkness and the Crystal Tower, as cool as they are, is where I found issue with the game in general.

Up until the Crystal Tower, the game is not too hard (even with bosses in the remake attacking twice per turn) and seems overall to be well balanced. I beat most bosses on my first or second try and the fights seemed just hard enough that they were lengthy and fun. None of this is an issue until the very end of the game. You climb the Crystal Tower and nothing really poses too much of a threat: usually a good sign that you're in the right level curve to face what's coming. I reached the top, beat Xande rather easily and then Cloud of Darkness shows up and your group follows her to her realm: The World of Darkness. This is a point of no return by the way. Here, there are boss level enemies you fight in random encounters, have to fight 4 bosses with HP pools double that of Xande's, and then fight Cloud of Darkness who has 4 times his health. She has a group-wide attack originating from one of her tentacles that does massive magic damage as well as being able to attack twice herself. It's such a huge difficulty spike and it's completely unfair with it coming after a point of no return, meaning that if you fail you have to go through the whole of the Crystal Tower again, wasting a couple of hours' progress. This is such a sour note to end the game on after it being so enjoyable up until this final dungeon, it's such a shame that the game stumbles so hard on the final hurdle. It doesn't help that the way the story ends involves a contrived event that brings characters from the game with 'pure hearts of light' to help the heroes out of a jam, and for some reason, one of those characters is one of the old men who thought they were the warriors of light. A character that seemed to have been used as a joke in one of the towns. I audibly said to myself 'are you actually serious?'  when it happened, it was such a bizarre plot point.

I don't wish to end this review on a sour note, however, as I can more than confidently say that the music in this game is incredible. After the disappointing showing from Final Fantasy II this is a breath of fresh air. The overworld theme has a light airy sound to it that evokes a quiet mystery, the battle themes are exciting and energetic, the boss theme is incredibly iconic. The only tracks that annoyed me were the 'liberated' theme which plays in certain towns and locations after a saving it from a major threat, and a couple of the town themes were pretty obnoxious to the point where I just wanted to get out of them as soon as I could. As it's a NES game the themes are pretty short loops, which does lessen the impact of the good songs and amplify the irritation of the lesser ones. Overall though, a big thumbs up in the music department!

To conclude then I enjoyed FF3 quite a lot overall, to the point where I stayed up late a lot to play it. I would say I enjoyed it more that the previous 2 games even though this game has flaws all of its own. The job system is great and fun but is ultimately a bit shallow, especially when comparing to games to follow (hint, hint). I would still say this is the best of the NES era games though due to it having ambition and mostly hitting the right notes, unlike Final Fantasy II. The series' biggest flaw at this point of it's life is that the plot and characters are still rather underdeveloped but they've given the games their own distinct style and gameplay that is well refined. The old games would probably be best kept to only being played by die-hard fans, even the remakes.

Current Rankings:

Final Fantasy III

Final Fantasy I

Final Fantasy II

[zoemurph]

blistering feet, ch1: improvisation

on ao3

'hey tea are you ever going to write something thats not a dance au' no.

welcome! i dont know why im posting this OR why i started it!!! i only have 2 chapters written and i just started college and i have no outline. so.

fingers crossed (please dont expect a lot from me)

shoutout to all my friends for encouraging this. thank you for being bad influences.

also please!!! read chapter notes!!!! ill be putting any sort of specific trigger warnings in the beginning notes. let me know if i ever need more. in the END NOTES ON AO3 ill be putting videos and links to any dance terms/references that i use in the chapter. let do this

tw: references to self harm

Connor clenches his fists, digging his nails into the palms of his hands. He’s shaking, his brain is screaming a million things at him, and he feels like he’s drowning in his thoughts.

He can hear his mother’s voice in his head telling him about breathing exercises.

Fuck breathing exercises.

Before he does something he regrets — even though summer is coming to a close, it’s still too warm to suffer the fate of long sleeves — Connor throws his hair up into a ponytail. He changes out of his jeans and into old sweats, his jeans are old and soft but not stretchy enough, and hauls his bag onto his shoulder. He grabs his phone as he passes it on his desk and resists the urge to slam his bedroom door behind him as he leaves.

He’s already going to get shit from Larry, he doesn’t need more.

Connor huffs out a breath before knocking on Zoe’s door. She opens the door quickly, a questioning eyebrow raised. She gives him a once over before closing the door again. Connor crosses his arms and taps his foot impatiently as he waits. He finds himself tapping out an old rhythm that his body has somehow remembered despite the years and leans into the beat.

A few minutes later, Zoe leaves her bedroom. She has a bag on each arm and is wearing sweats and a loose top. “I’m choosing the music,” she says, twisting her hair up into a messy bun and kicking the door shut with her foot.

Connor Murphy started dancing when he was five years old.

His mother signed him up for a tap class when Zoe refused to go on her own. Connor hadn’t wanted to go, but he was the older sibling, he was supposed to be the example, he was supposed to be there for his sister. So despite all his complaining and all of Zoe’s tears, Cynthia packed them into the car and drove them to the dance studio.

Connor was immediately put off by the amount of pink— pink was Zoe’s color, she had a monopoly over it. Zoe hated all the people, all the parents that were much bigger than her and all the other dancers who she had never met. She hid behind Connor and held onto the sleeve of his hoodie.

Connor decided he hated dance.

But he didn’t mind the way the shoes clicked on the floor.

They stood in line and the teacher talked and Connor stopped listening. But then the teacher turned on the music and showed them how to hit the floor with the toe of their shoe just right. The studio filled with the sounds of stomping.

Connor decided he liked dance.

Connor grits his teeth as Zoe plugs the aux cord into her phone. She hums to herself as she scrolls through her music, pursing her lips before settling on a playlist.

Connor focuses on the road, even though he knows this route well enough by now that he could probably drive it in his sleep. Not that Zoe would let him.

Zoe leans forward and turns up the music, guitar notes floating through the speakers. Surprisingly, it’s not a song that Connor recognizes. Probably some indie band that Zoe found and has decided to obsess over for a few weeks.

He doesn’t know how many songs have passed when he pulls into the parking lot.

“You’re lucky Heather likes us,” Zoe says as she hops out of the car.

Connor rolls his eyes and turns off the engine. He grips the steering wheel one last time before grabbing his bag from the back.

Melinda looks up from where she’s working behind the desk when Zoe pulls open the door of the dance studio. Melinda smiles and asks Zoe how she’s doing, her eyes flicking over the Connor briefly. Connor can practically feel the worry dripping off of Melinda and elects to ignore it. Whatever.

“Is Studio C open?” he asks, kicking off his shoes.

“Always is!” Melinda says cheerfully. He doesn’t care enough right now to decide if the tone is forced.

Zoe thanks Melinda as Connor climbs the steps to the storage room for the competitive dancers. He dumps his shoes and sweatshirt in his usual cubby and glances to his bag for a moment before deciding just to take all of it. He passes Zoe as he leaves the room and she holds out a water bottle to him. He takes it without a word.

Studio C is cold like it alway is. The heating in this particular studio isn’t very good, especially since it’s in the older part of the building. Him and Zoe moved to this studio when he was eight and his mother wanted them to start taking dance more seriously. When they were ten, the studio expanded into the building next to it for more studio space. Now, this studio in particular, with its dented wood floors and small size, is usually left open for anyone wanting practice space.

Two years ago, Connor claimed it as his own.

He plugs his phone into the speaker system and turns the music up as loud as he can without getting yelled at by Heather to lower the volume or get out. He can feel the beat in his bones as he sits on the floor and laces up his tap shoes, easy and familiar.

He stands and closes his eyes, facing the mirror but not wanting to see himself.

That’s the worst part about dance studios. There are so many mirrors. All of your mistakes, everything you are that you don’t want to be, projected for what seems like the entire world to see.

Connor does a few cramp rolls. His mind starts to calm as he soaks in the music.

He’s really supposed to warm up. It’s important to do, even for tap. He’s supposed to warm up his ankles.

He’s not really in the mood to be safe.

The song ends and the intro to another starts up. He always leaves his phone on shuffle when he improvs so it can be a surprise. He recognizes the song after the first few notes, smiling a little to himself.

Connor counts himself in and he starts with a simple flap ball change. And then he dances.

—«·»—

Zoe is sitting on a bench outside the studio scrolling on her phone when Connor has finished, his muscles sore and his heart racing. She barely gives him a second glance when he drops his bag on the bench next to her and sits down.

He leans over to check the time on her screen. Zoe pushes him away.

“It’s almost three,” she says. “And you smell.”

Connor rolls his eyes and pulls the hair tie out of his hair. “Do you want to grab something to eat before rehearsal?”

Zoe is already standing. “God I thought you’d never ask.” Connor follows her into the storage room as she complains about their mother’s cooking. “—which isn’t bad but, we dance twenty three hours a week, we need more carbs than that.” Zoe shoves her bag into one of the cubbies and puts on her shoes. Connor fishes the car keys out of his bag and does the same.

“McDonald’s?” he asks as they get into the car. The car has already gotten warm since they went into the studio and Connor remembers that he really fucking hates summer and heat.

Zoe is already reaching for the aux cord. “Depression fries?”

“Fuck you,” Connor says flatly. He shifts the gear into drive and tries not to speed out of the parking lot. If Heather so much as suspects that he was speeding in the area, he’ll get an earful at rehearsal tonight.

“I’m not judging,” Zoe says as she chooses a song. “I want chicken nuggets.”

Maybe fast food isn’t the best idea before rehearsal, but Connor stopped caring about what was healthy a long time ago. He spends hours in the studio without eating or drinking and sleeps less than five hours a night. If his plan was to live a long life, he’d be failing. But luckily that’s not his plan.

If he spends enough time in the dance studio, the rest of the world stops for a while. Or at least he stops paying attention to the rest of the world for long enough that it’s a little less shitty.

That’s the problem with school starting up again. Less studio time. More time in a hellhole where no one would care if he died, where half the school thinks he’s about to snap and go on a shooting spree, where all anyone knows him for is throwing a printer in the second grade.

Yeah. High school definitely is the best four years of his life.

Connor doesn’t even realize he’s made it to the drive through until Zoe is leaning over him and rolling down his window. He really has to stop doing that when he drives, even if he knows the route well. One of these days he’s going to get into an accident and kill himself (not a bad thing) and Zoe (a bad thing).

Zoe orders quickly, getting him a drink along with his trademarked depression fries, and then sits back down in her seat and buckles in, motioning him to drive forward. It’s sort of weird how Zoe just goes along with stuff like this without question, but it’s better than being at home and getting yelled at for it.  

They sit in the McDonald’s parking lot for a while and eat because Connor’s fries would get cold in the drive back to the studio and McDonald’s fries have this magical ability to get really fucking gross when they’re cold. Zoe cranks her weird music louder as she eats her chicken nuggets, clicking through emails and updating Connor on studio events.

Connor takes a sip of her drink before his own, mostly to annoy her, partially to see what she got because he’s already forgotten what she ordered. “Do you think Erin is going to try more party pop jazz?”

Zoe shudders. “I hope not. That was…”

“Fucking awful?” he asks, and she nods eagerly in agreement. Lauren liked trying new things. Trying a different style of jazz, with a lot more pop music and jumping and neon, had not worked out in her favor. Connor had tried to drop the dance and Zoe had yelled at him.

“Do you think you’ll get a solo this year?” Zoe asks lightly.

Connor raises an eyebrow at her. “Do you think you will?”

They stare at each other for a long moment before Zoe snorts and grabs her drink from the cup holder. “Erika would lose her shit if they didn’t let you have your solo.”

Connor smirks. “That’d be something to see. Maybe I should refuse it.”

Zoe whacks his arm. “ Drive , asshole. Heather will have your head if we’re late.”

“What about your head?” He puts down the empty fries container and backs out of the parking space.

“I’m too pretty for that,” Zoe says haughtily. “Besides, I’m actually good at ballet.”

“I’ll throw you out of this car,” Connor threatens.

Zoe just changes the song and blasts the music louder.

[insecwrites]

Undeserved Loyalties chapter 2

> READ CHAPTER 2 ON AO3 < Summary: Jetfire and Jetstorm are very loyal soldiers, but thinking is not their strongest point. When Longarm begins to give them secret missions, they enthusiastically agree, thinking they are going to be drafted into Spec Ops. When Autobot command puts a bounty on their heads for the assassination of vital Autobot agents, they are left on their own. How do two ex-Autobots survive when they are unwilling to join the Decepticons, but banned from the Autobots? Chapter 2: Red Alert inspects Project Safeguard and learns something unexpected.

There were days that Red Alert wished there were more medics of her skill. With her right hand still aching from a long operation, and driving over an annoyingly busy road, the last thing she wanted to do was check in on Perceptor and Wheeljack with their ‘project’. As far as she was concerned, both parts of ‘operation Safeguard’ were healthy, and no longer in need of medical assistance. Perceptor disagreed. Perceptor was in the Council, and Perceptor felt no shame in using his influence for his own gain. So, every day, around the time when most mecha would be having their midday refuel, Red Alert had to leave Iacon hospital to check the same unchanging charts over and over again.

Back when Wheeljack and Perceptor had been constantly ‘updating’ the twins and reloading modded version of Decepticon code into their brainmodules, her expertise had been necessary. The both of them were more scientist than they were medical experts, and their original drafts for Project Safeguard would have killed any mech stupid enough to volunteer. What kind of things were misfiring in Wheeljack’s brain to come up with a concept like combining two mecha into one? Who mentioned the idea of then adding Decepticon coding into them on top of that?!

The two scientists had proven their skill though – Project Safeguard had been finished, and it was doing better than anyone had expected. Red Alert had thought that the twins would perhaps need some form of councelling after their near-death experience, but the two mecha fell into their new role as if it had been forged for them. Perhaps that was why Perceptor was so intent on keeping her tied to the project? Maybe he was still expecting it to go wrong somehow, and he wanted her to keep an eye her parts of the project.

Red Alert would have found his trust in her endearing, if he also trusted her when she told him that NOTHING was wrong! These solar cycles the check ups were mundane enough that nurses could do them with their eyes closed, but Perceptor refused to let her step off the project. His iron will had become an Ununtrium will after his little ‘self-improvement’.

The only silver lining to that acid stormcloud was that Red Alert no longer had to keep a check on her words around him. There was no longer anything that could be said to hurt him.

She rolled to a stop outside of Perceptor’s lab, and marched her way to the entrance. Perceptor’s lab was probably the best-funded building on Cybertron to unofficially belong to a singular mech, and it showed. A frame scan and a deeper protoform-scan washed over her before the entrance doors opened, and a single commlink message dropped into her queue to inform her about everything that Perceptor felt she needed to know.

// Duties expected from [RED ALERT] on this date (SolC 65, Q 13, StelC 3.002.89 ) in order; // //Common health check-up on compartments J1 and J2 of Pr. Safeguard. – Room 23 // //Reviewing request of patient [PERCEPTOR] to change prognosis and treatment – Room 3/Commlink communication //  

Business as usual. Red Alert offlined her optics and walked towards Room 23, already deleting the second message. She was fairly certain that at least half of her deleted files were just from Perceptor, and his attempts to weasel out of his therapy. After what Perceptor had knowingly done to himself it was going to take more than a simple request before Red Alert would let him ditch therapy, but that was evidently not stopping him from trying. It probably wouldn’t be long before he succeeded. His therapist, or rather his third therapist, was reporting a dead end in the treatment.

There was simply nothing to work with – not even a starting point. Perceptor didn’t have a problem. The Perceptor that had had a deep psychological problem had forcibly deleted parts of his personality, and now there was just this blank slate of a mech borrowing his life and face.

Already feeling weary, Red Alert sighed and entered the first of three protective layers around room 23. The tingle of an ID scan opened the first door, giving access to a small recording-office where carefully picked and edited footage of the ‘project Safeguard’ was stored. The second door had a size/shape/weight assessment tied to it, matching Red Alert’s ID to her frame with decimal precision. A security measure made necessary by war and paranoia. Rumours of Decepticon triple changers taking a second root mode instead of a second alt.

With a ping, the second set of doors opened. The third door, made out of heavy duty steel and more layers than any Autobot could break through, opened automatically. In the early days of the project, it had been programmed to be impossible to open from the inside. Just in case the Decepticon coding in the twins took a turn for the worst.

These days, only thing keeping the twins here instead of at the Elite Guard barracks was Perceptor and whatever plan he had for the project.

Red Alert reached the last door, and braced herself. The twins had a tendency of trying to cheer her up if she appeared too haggard, and she did not feel like wasting her time.

The heavy blast doors slid open, and Red Alert entered the twin’s living space. An immediate scent of heated paint and slag assaulted her senses, and her feet kicked through a thin layer of discarded toys and garbage as she marched into the room. The twins themselves were wrestling with each other in the middle of the room, their flight engines ( or simply Jetstorm’s added abilities ) kicking up a lacklustre whirlwind of garbage around the room.

“Jetstorm, Jetfire. At attention! It is time for your bi-solar check up.” Red Alert barked.

“AH! It is being good morning, Alert of Red!” Jetstorm said. He was currently on top in battling his twin, muffling Jetfire’s greeting in a cushion. “No need for check up is what me is thinking- I am being in top of the condition wi-” An orange hand cut him off midsentence, and in a flurry of movement Jetfire had reversed their positions.

“-being my turn to say hello’s to the Red of Alert!” Jetfire admonished his brother, and he threw a cheerful smile in Red Alert’s direction, before immediately going back to subduing his struggling split spark. “I does -oomfp!- agree that, conditioning has been being okay for us! And testing always being so boring.”

“Whe Sstronk-.” Jetstorm added, even as he tried to spit out his twin’s fingers. “Dhon’t be nheeding sscheck-ahp.”

If these had been regular Autobot younglings, Red Alert would have intervened by simply grabbing them by the scruff of their backplating and giving them a quick scodling, but the Jettwins were nothing like regular younglings. Whether it was just the way they had come online, or the way that the Decepticon coding had nestled into their brainmodules, the twins simply couldn’t seem to listen to orders until someone brought in some manner of physical punishment.

Well, that was not completely fair. They listened to  Sentinel Prime of all mecha, but if Red Alert had to call in Sentinel Prime for every time the twins ignored her, she was going to drive herself into an early offlining. At the very least, the twins made her feel better about her choice to keep her left arm as an EMP gun.

With an ominous snap of electricity she fired it up, preparing herself to jab it at the wrestling twins. “At attention, NOW!” She barked out, and the two mecha immediately scrambled into a salute.  “I am just as tired of these check-ups as you are but they WILL be performed and you will not waste time.

“Yes, sir Red Alert sir.” They said in unison.

Red Alert watched them for a moment, and then let the energy from her EMP gun disperse. “Now then, take your positions and copy your self-diagnostic results onto these datapads. And if I catch you throwing the datapads I will both shock you AND bring in Sentinel Prime for your punishment!”

“Red Alert sir is beings in bad moods.” Jetfire jibed, even as he took the datapad she offered him and plugged himself in. “Me and brother are always the behaving!”

Jetstorm bit off a chuckle.

Red Alert didn’t deign to reply to them, and instead focused on running through the routine she had built up. The faster she was done, the faster she could return to her midday fuel and dealing with Perceptor. As she had expected, there were no changes of any significance. Their reprogrammed coding looked stable, just as it had looked in the last three decacycles, and all of their new body parts had integrated a long time ago. She had them combine into Safeguard, who was similarly unchanged and in perfect shape. Well, as perfect as an amalgamation of two mecha could be, she supposed. For how loud and noisy Jetfire and Jetstorm were, Safeguard was mostly antsy and quiet. Red Alert always felt like the combiner was having an injoke with the way he giggled to himself, but he was healthy and coherent.

If it wasn’t for the lack of knowledge surrounding Decepticon coding, the twins likely would have been brought to the public already. At a glance they passed very well for regular Autobots, but they were impossible to keep out of the air – with or without the use of heavy weaponry.

“Does Red Alert knowings if we will be having a mission again soon?” Jetstorm asked. “This place is being boring to be in for long times.”

Red Alert frowned, and met Jetstorm’s visor. “I was not aware that you had gone on any missions, outside of accompanying Sentinel Prime.”

“Oh yes!” Jetstorm beamed.  “Longarm Prime be requesting our help for the spyinks and Secret things! Sentinel Prime has been doing busy – and he no longer being answering to his commlinks.”

“Mission was not being very fun.” Jetfire added sullenly. “Very boring, too much talkings and walkings and waiting…. But me and brother could fly back to base all the way! Very fun, and I won race!”

“Brother is lying, I won race very easily.” Jetstorm said. “And mission was better than staying in room. We was being helpful Autobots for Cybertron!”

“Is that what he said?” Red Alert mumbled to herself. She had no dislike or like for Longarm Prime, but she did have a history with his department. The mecha that were chosen to work in Spec Ops were either damaged in their empathy modules, or had it forcibly trained into them. Unless Longarm was thinking to make the twins into literal weapons or part of his division, there was no reason for him to get his servos on the,

“Did he mention wanting you to work for his department more?”

“He be very vague. It is being a spy thing.” Jetstorm said. “Important job was done, that is all that ‘publical mecha’ need to know.”

“It is said as ‘the generalistic public’, stupid.” Jetfire replied. “And Longarm is not tell us because Brother cannot keep secrets.”

“Oh? I cannot be keeping secrets?” Jetstorm grinned. “I guess I cannot be helping but tell Red of the Alert about the thing you is keeping un-“

“SUSSH!” Jetfire jumped on top of Jetstorm in the blink of an eye, and Red Alert watched tiredly as the two continued their wrestling.

Would it be worth interrupting them again to pry a little more information from them…? She knew better than to start asking Longarm what kind of mission he’d sent them on. Spec Ops had an annoying habit of supplying very convincing fibs whenever someone asked them what they were up to. Secret missions were ‘patrols’. Assasinations were ‘tests’. And, of course, the only person that his department answered to was the Magnus.

Distractedly she sent a redacted copy of the test results to the twins for their safekeeping, and headed out of the room. The distracted and well-meant goodbye of the twins was cut off halfway as the door slid shut behind her.

Did Perceptor know that the twins had been sent out on a Spec Ops mission? If he did, she doubted that Longarm let him know exactly what the mission was about. And if it had been a regular training mission, why would Longarm Prime have gotten the lead? What was his stake in testing the abilities of the twins? Why would Perceptor agree? It just didn’t fit – there was something wrong, something off-… She had to dig to the bottom of this. Contact Perceptor, Wheeljack, the Magnus- she would have to pick the right order to assure the least amounts of suspicion from Longarm, while also keeping an optic out for possible reprogramming on Perceptor-…

She paused in the hallway, and carefully massaged her forehead with the unwieldy bulk of her EMP gun. It was trembling. “No.” She said softly to herself. “It’s not my job nor my responsibility to conduct intense research. I have my responsibilities, and my colleagues have their responsibilities. I can trust them to do their job.”

She took a long invent, and then let it seep out of her. Continuing her trek down the hallway, she shortened the length of her ‘dig-to-the-bottom’ plan. She would talk to Percy, and see what he knew about Longarm’s little ‘borrowing’ of Project Safeguard. If that conversation rang some alarm bells, she would contact the Magnus, and further discuss things with Wheeljack and Perceptor. If she was still worried after that, she would contact her therapist Analyse, and ask her for the next step.

A few more calming invents later, Red Alert felt calm enough to continue on her way out. She had her patients waiting on her back at the hospital, and she had to hurry if she wanted to grab a quick cube before the first appointment. Nobody was going to be helped if she ran herself into the ground looking into some slightly suspicios happenings.

Most likely, there was nothing to be worried about.