intraspective: (Default)
In the end, Ino hadn't bothered to go to the Parents' Weekend… thing…

She'd felt that it'd be pointless, all things considered, given her lack of visitors. It was nice, though, to feel the extra buzzing in the back of her mind that indicated more people on the island. Made it livelier. Reminded her a little of Midgar, though there were far more people in one block there than in the entire island here.

Usually she'd pay more attention to what was going on outside, but this weekend was making her feel weird and nostalgic and even a little envious (which was damn stupid, but there you go) and so she'd headed over to her shop and, rather than putter around in the front end, she'd locked the door behind her and headed into the apartment upstairs.

The back room on the ground floor was used for mixing most of her soaps, lotions, teas, and things like that. Things she sold to the average person without worrying about it.

Her upstairs apartment, however, was where she worked with the dangerous things.

Ino braided her hair back tightly, coiling it around and around her head like a crown, pulled her safety goggles on (it would be really fucking stupid to get poison in her eyes) and gloves on, and settled in to work on things most people would never get a chance to buy.

It was funny how this sort of thing relaxed her.

[Backdated due to internet issues. For one.]
intraspective: (Iris - brittle)
It was the middle of the night, closer to morning than evening, when Ino appeared in the apartment she and Zack shared in a near-silent puff of smoke.

Cut for blood and minor gore! )

[For the boy! Warning for blood and minor gore. Just to be safe, yo.]
intraspective: (listen listen)
This... wasn't how she'd planned to spend her day, but spontaneity didn't hurt no one and Ino was in a great mood as she and Sparkle hit up the zoo, of all places. It was a hot, sunny day and the zoo was crowded.

But since it wasn’t yet school holidays and it was just a Tuesday, it wasn’t too bad, all things considered. (Ino was pretending that she hadn't noticed the number of children present on field trips.)

Ino peered at her map of the zoo grounds as they got through the front gates. "Where to first?" she asked. "You hungry? Guess I should’ve asked first."

She’d sent Silly home. It had seemed like a bad idea to bring a baby bird to a zoo.

[For Sparkle, yo! NFB.]
intraspective: (are you sure the third)
It was just past midnight when Ino finally, finally made it back to the apartment above the Boards. (It wasn't home, not yet, maybe not ever. Home had a green and black and smoky sky.)

Out of respect for Zack's sleeping mind (peaceful, for once), and out of habit, Ino slid into the apartment so silently that not even a whisper of rustling clothes marked her passing. She was so tired. And sore, though she'd taken care of injuries before coming back here.

Her uniform had seen better days but… well… that was another reason why it was good Zack was sleeping. She poked her head into the living room and paused. He was on the couch, bare-chested, with a puppy sleeping on him.

Irritation borne of her own exhaustion and the unexpected presence of the puppy rustled at her nerves, but her eyes were drawn more to the grey-scale and moon-lit tracery of torture scars that rippled Zack's chest, and while her nerves jangled, that made her stomach drop.

She was glad he was asleep. She had no idea what he'd say but—Ino didn't think he'd want her to see. (She'd always had good eyesight, though, and the moon helped—)

And the puppy…

Ino took a deep breath and headed, silently, for a shower. They'd talk about it tomorrow. She didn't want a dog but—they'd talk about it tomorrow. If she woke him up to talk about it now, neither of them would be happy.

(Maybe it was out of character to be so thoughtful but… but Ino was tired. She wouldn't enjoy this fight, the way she enjoyed a lot of them. But not this time, not now, not like this.)

Shower, bed, sleep. Tomorrow she'd deal with everything currently drowsing in the living room.

[Establishy! Zack and puppy modded with permission.]
intraspective: (listen to meeee)
"Yeah," Ino said, spinning around in her chair. "I've got it. Thank you. Let me know if anything changes, okay? Great! I'll be in touch."

Hanging up, Ino swung her feet up and over until she was lounging sideways in her chair, knees hooked over the chair arm, her back pressed against the other, and she let her smile fade.

Gods, but she had a headache!

No rest for the wicked, though, so she rapped smartly (but lightly) on Tseng's mind—he was mid-phone call himself, after all—and said, "Got a moment? Buzz me, when you do."

Then she picked up some of her neglected paperwork and tried to focus on that while she waited.

[For that boss dude.]
intraspective: ([Iris] judging princess)
It had taken her ages to fly across the greater part of a continent, and then over a piece of the ocean, in the dead of winter. Ino never wanted to repeat that journey, but it had given her plenty of time to think. Getting into her emails without being noticed was still a… well, she'd managed. But it had been a challenge. Ino was a born hacker of minds, not of machines.

It had been worth it though, when she'd found the first piece of the puzzle. Her phone bill was higher than it had been in years. At first, she'd thought it was due to her calls to Fandom, but while that made a bit of a difference, the bigger one was… Zack's account was in use.

She'd lost two days to that revelation, what it had to mean, and the rage and guilt and horror that it had inspired in her. What had kept her in one place had been less the rage and more the twin emotions of stark betrayal and incredulous joy. Neither had been conductive to stealth, so she hadn't tried. She'd taken her time.

If Zack's account was in use, if Zack was alive… then she'd been lied to for years. It sent her straight back into the empty, ugly spaces of herself where she could do anything, the empty, broken places she'd retreated into after losing him the first time around.

It took two days for her to shake that off, to pick herself up, to be an adult. She had to know the truth. She had to go home.

Now, she was home. )

It was a fragile, ephemeral conclusion that she came to, but it was the only one that made sense:

I think he was trying to protect us. Or maybe even just me. But from what, and why?

[For the one she's waiting for, please.]
intraspective: ([Iris] ice queen)
Ino still hated Icicle.

It was easy to hate since it was cold, it was white, it was boring if you didn't like snowboarding, and it was depressing after sifting through all the old evidence about Aerith's mom's story.

But Ino hated, at that moment, Tseng a lot more than she hated Icicle.

Actually, it had been building for weeks, fueled by her own sense of something being wrong, her increasingly indignant texts to Jono (who, at least, agreed that something was most definitely UP), and the fact that she still couldn't reach any of the other Turks for longer than 'hi, how are you—'

Tseng was reading her emails. But he wasn't answering them.

But the final, final straw came from Elena, who'd been babbling about how Rosa was out at all hours because The Turks were super busy these days, like, even busier than normal. Ino had probed Elena gently for details but Elena hadn't known much. Rosa was good at keeping secrets.

Ino was better at ferreting them out.

Which left her in what was an ugly quandary. She was clearly being isolated for a reason and she hadn't done anything that would be considered suspicious. She'd been good up here for what felt like months, just paying their bills like normal and sneaking off occasionally through a portal to go somewhere warm. She'd gotten the job done and done well.

So why wasn't she being called back to Midgar anyway?

She had her orders but, as anyone in the Turks knew, rules were made to be broken.

Ino plotted her escape from Icicle as carefully as if every, single Turk was watching her at all times. She didn't dare use a car—they were probably all bugged; the ones she'd checked had been—and since she wasn't sneaking off somewhere warm, she didn't dare use a portal—Tseng likely had someone watching her expenditures if she really was being isolated—both of which made getting out of Icicle harder.

But Ino still had Staffy, the flying staff that Liir had gifted her with years and years ago. Flying through the air would be even more brutally cold than hanging out on the ground would be, especially since she'd have to fly over open water.

That, though, she could work around. When she wanted something she always got it, no matter at the cost to her. Tseng could watch what she bought all he wanted.

All her heavy-duty snow gear was easy to explain—she was doing as the locals did and learning to snowboard (Ino hated every minute of it, except when she finally figured out the trick to going really, really fast; that was exhilarating and she loved it)—and the extra food she bought was because she needed to eat more to make up for the energy she was using while being out all day in the cold and playing at sports.

When she had all her supplies in hand, Ino made herself sick. It was a simple trick of chakra manipulation to raise her temperature, give herself a cough, and get herself confined to bed and being waited on hand and foot.

She suffered through that for two days, long enough for people to get used to the fact that she was sick and not out and about, and then healed herself up to tip-top shape in the dead of night, wriggled into every bit of heavy-duty cold weather gear that she owned, stuffed everything else she needed into her pockets, and then translocated herself five miles away.

Ino landed in a snow drift, which made her swear, but digging Staffy out and getting into the air was more important than cursing fate, destiny, and Tseng. In the distance, she could see the lights from Icicle.

Ninja were all trained in how to navigate by using the stars. Ino had been on Gaia long enough for these stars to become as familiar as the back of her hand. She oriented herself, spreading her mind out to make sure no one else was around, and headed off on Staffy at a decent clip.

It would be a long, likely painful flight to Midgar. She was going to have to avoid people, avoid purchasing anything, and remain utterly undetected by any security system.

It would be a challenge but she was up for it. She was a Turk.

It was time to go to Midgar and remind Tseng of that fact.

intraspective: ([Iris] brittle)
It was snowing. Again.

The locals had assured her that it would stop soon, once the temperature dropped further. Ino had smiled, thanked them, and as soon as she'd gotten away from them had thrown an entirely silent temper tantrum.

Ino was not built for cold weather and Icicle had nothing but cold weather and she'd been here for weeks already, ever since Homecoming. She was cold all the time.

To make things worse, everyone around here was obsessed with snowboarding. Obsessed. In its own way, this place was as big a tourist attraction as Costa del Sol or the Gold Saucer.

She glowered out the window, spitefully, at the snow. It didn't care.

Neither did Tseng, who was very nearly avoiding her calls to report in on her progress on the mission. He was never exactly chatty but now he was nearly as terse as Rude was. And Rosa had hung up on her twice already, which was a clear sign that something was going on.

Elena, at least, was still willing to talk to her whenever Ino got lonely enough to call her. She hadn't called Aerith, though Aerith would've talked to her. Given her mission and what she'd been slowly gleaning from the locals, talking to Aerith would be a bit awkward, so Ino hadn't bothered…

But now it was two in the morning and she was cold—even indoors Ino always felt like she was slowly freezing to death—and she wanted someone to talk to.

Well, he did say that I could call anytime…

[Expecting one, but open for calls and texts, sure!]
intraspective: ([Iris] judging princess)
This time of night all the good boys and girls were in bed.

At least, they usually were in the stories. Ino knew far, far too much about how Midgar (and life in general) worked to think that being up late was any real indicator of good or badness.

She didn't have to be out tonight, patrolling, and she wasn't officially on the clock anyway (not that that meant much) but she'd been away for the last few weeks, out in Wutai since it was easy for her to pass as a native there, and so she wanted to reacquaint herself with her home.

Midgar was an ugly city, all dark metal, rust, and green smoke skies. She still thought it was beautiful, when she saw the flicker and glitter of mako lit streetlights and the old empty-eyed fallen trains. Beautiful in a lonely sort of way, which suited her mood completely.

There'd been no time, out in Wutai to celebrate her birthday (she was twenty-two now), and while the Turks had offered to take her out tonight, none of them had been surprised when she'd begged off. They could go drinking without her.

As she usually did, when she was in this sort of mood, her footsteps ghosted her to Aerith's church. This time of night, Aerith wasn't there. Aerith was (mostly) a good girl.

Letting the door slip shut behind her, Ino approached the flowers, somehow lit by the moon despite the plate overhead (she knew, she'd gone looking once and it still didn't make sense), and knelt down to touch them.

"Hey," she said, smiling slightly as her hair spilled over her shoulders to touch the flowers too. "How've you been? Being good for your mom?"

[OOC: Expecting one, but open for calls/texts, sure.]
intraspective: ([Iris] DorkMax)
Rosa had voted for the sunny shores of Costa del Sol, but she'd been out-voted three-to-one.

They'd wound up at the Gold Saucer instead. It was tacky, it was beautiful. There wasn't an inch of that wasn't infused and inundated with blaring noises and lights that dazzled the senses. It was rotten to the core and unabashed about it. Come play a game, the Gold Saucer beckoned, try and win against me.

Ino loved it.

She loved the sparkling lights, the crowds, the sheer noise of it. She loved the quiet glittering world that spread out beneath her when she rode the gondola, she loved the chocobo races, she loved all the different ways she could cause trouble and not get in trouble.

(Though her uniform likely helped with that.)

As soon as they'd ditched their things in their hotel room, Ino had grabbed Reno, since Rosa had been too slow at not being left with Rude to avoid such a fate (secretly, that was exactly what Rosa had wanted), and headed out.

They hit the games room about twenty minutes after they'd arrived. Two Turks, in jet black suits, Reno's looking sloppy, hers' adorned with a flimsy pink ribbon instead of a tie. His hair was pulled back into that ridiculous ponytail of his, while her hair was loose and shimmering down around her in a pale blonde waterfall. Neither of them was visible armed, which meant nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

She tended to bounce a little when she walked, he sauntered, or slouched, as the step and his mood took him.

Ino's grin was unrepentant as she took in the rising wariness of the employees of the Gold Saucer and picked out her first target.

"Oh my gods," Ino said, leaning around Reno, and pointing with one hand. Her nails were the same pink as her ribbon. "Reno, you still owe me from the last job. Get me one of those chocobo plushies or I cut you."

[OOC: Unlike the puppy, as of this post, Ino is reachable by phone/email/text! Post is for the one she's threatening to cut and anyone who feels like calling. I'm so happy to have her back! \o/]
intraspective: (tell me you're kidding)
[OOC: So yeah. If you're seeing this... I have no idea why you're reading Ino's journal years after I dropped her, but hi! This post was written waaay back in 2011 as a companion piece to this post over on [ profile] puppy_fair's journal. (And you should go read that one because it's way, way better than this post.) Then it got lost in my inbox and I didn't feel like posting it and now I do? I'm feeling nostalgic tonight, I guess.]

It's pretty weird for you to be summoned directly to him and when you consider the fact that you've not gotten yourself in trouble--not even because of Silly--you realize that, really, he's probably summoned you to talk about the future and how to proceed with it.

And you're right, in a sick and twisted way that leaves you trying not to vomit on the carpet, as he tells you that he is dead in action and that he (not he) is sorry. He doesn't look at you as he says this. That's right, he was his friend too. You shake your head, long hair tumbling with the movement, tumbling like your thoughts, like your world is spinning and trying to realign and can't because the foundation you've found, made, used here is--


You'd been told you had years. To change things, to fix them, to make the world a better place. That he died at some point during all of that.

You'd thought you had years to figure that out and change it. They'd let you go on thinking that, knowing you knew, and beneath the shock is a current of red-hot fury, but the shock is winning now. They lied. You're certain at least one of them loves you, but they lied and let you believe and let you wind your life around his and now… now you're all alone, in a world that's not even yours.

In a world that, maybe, you can still even save. You know a lot, though you didn't know enough.

He's gone, after all.

You realize hazily, belatedly, dizzily, that he, your boss, is waiting for an answer of some sort. Acknowledgement.

You've got none to give.

"No," you say, in a voice that might as well be dead, because you wish you were dead just then, and without hearing an answer (perhaps he gave one, perhaps he didn't) you walk out. You don't even know what you're saying no too. Just that--no. That's it, that's all there is: no. No, you refuse to deal with it. No, it didn't happen. No, he didn't, wouldn't, couldn't, just leave you like that.

No, he couldn't be gone is the same as no, this can't be happening. Except that it has and it did and you're all alone and even if you were to call someone, who would you trust? Those who knew lied to you. That means there's no one to trust. Not in your crumpled up, closed off heart that trusted little and loved few already.

You find yourself at the top of many, many stairs. You don't remember getting there. It makes sense not to go to your room, or to your other room. Too easy to be found by other people and you don't want to talk to them. If you're spoken to right now, you think you might go violent. It would be a release, since you can't cry. (Because this isn't happening. Your birthday is in a few days and he's got a surprise for you so it can't be happening.)

Your hands are trembling, shaking, when you look at them and consider the easiest way to get out of this nightmare. There's so many. Your room is filled with options, your person has others. You shake, wrapping your arms tight around you, leaning against the door and consider it.

But if you did, he wouldn't understand. That's still important to you, his understanding.

Instead, you force yourself down those steps. Waveringly, alarmingly, as they pitch and roll in your eyesight because everything's out of focus and worse, but you keep going, clinging to the railing like it's a lifeline, because it is. One step of steps, around a corner, then another. Then you start picking up your pace as you go spiralling down and down and down which is exactly how you feel and somewhere on the twentieth floor, tears start spilling down your cheeks and you keep running.

Reaching the bottom is like hitting the end of the line. You stand, shuddering, on the last step and refuse to take it. Refuse to touch rock bottom.

Instead, you turn and force yourself to go up and up and up so that you can go down again. You can't talk to anyone, you can't go outside--who knows who'll see you, and here you can at least move, run--you just have to hide from one person, that's all, because if he says anything right now, you might try to kill him and you don't want to do that just because he looks like someone who broke your trust. So you'll avoid him.

That's easy, when you don't feel like you exist anyway. What's one more layer to this farce?

You continue up and up and up so that you can go down and down and down.

And that's fitting too, whispers your thoughts, under the haze of no.


Aug. 27th, 2011 12:48 am
intraspective: (let me know you're there)
"Hi! Ino speaking. I'm out at the moment so if you'd just leave a message that'd be great and I'll get back to you soon!"

"Hi, there! You've got Iris on the line, except you really don't. Leave a message and I'll probably get back to you. Unless you're bori—Rosa, shut up, I'm totally allowed to say that on my own 'I'm-not-here' message!"


In creating this journal, the author has assumed the identity of a fictional person for use in the role-playing game [ profile] fandomhigh, for the sole purpose of entertainment, without intending to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud either the person who created the fictional person, or any reader of this content. The author does not purport to be the creator of the fictional person, or to be affiliated with the creator, or with any person or entity with an interest in the fictional person. The author does not claim to be the person who is being used as the graphical representation of that fictional person, nor intend to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud that person by use of their image.
intraspective: (Make up!)
There wasn’t really room in the quarters she and Zack shared in the ShinRa building for a proper vanity and mirror, but Ino was used to living in dorms and had adapted to the smaller spaces those offered. It wasn’t so much of a bother, truly, so long as there was time to get ready and nothing had to be rushed.

But for tonight, they had as much time as they needed. Hours yet before the production started and everything (what little they needed) was packed for the trip they were taking tomorrow. (Which was so very different from the one their classmates were on.) Ino shifted, the silk of her dress clinging to her as she moved, and tried to think if there was anything she’d forgotten.

She studied herself in the hand mirror, touching up a bit of lipstick, before glancing at Zack.

“Almost ready?” she asked, though, of course, Zack had far less to do to get ready, when it came to dressing up for a night out.

Or perhaps she was asking about tomorrow and what that would bring.

[NFB. For the one mentioned, though open for phonecalls.]
intraspective: (civilian)
Ino had felt—good, stable, all the way out of Fandom, off the island, and into Midgar, which was her own home now (and that was something she still had to remind herself of), even while they stopped to let her change into her uniform.

It was only as Zack pressed a kiss to her cheek, in the lobby of the ShinRa building and headed off for his own orders, that Ino felt the clawing uncertainty come back.

Talk to the receptionist, she’d been told. Ino could do that, though she despised walking into a situation blind. It was a comfort, at the least, that she already had her uniform, her I.D. , and that she was supposed to be here, so far as anyone was concerned.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous, still, underneath the cool demeanour. This was her first time, after all, on the job, in this capacity. Her hair was down, flowing in careful waves down her back and her shoulders were straight as she approached the mission--reception desk.

“Excuse me?”

And Ino ignored the creeping panic that reminded her she had no idea of what else to say.

[NFB, please! For them that're in the building.]
intraspective: (unsure)
It was stupid, right?

That she was standing outside the door to her room, their room, and fidgeting and hadn’t yet found the bravery to go in. Stupid stupid stupid. It was her room, Zack was in there, and he was the one person who she was never uneasy about being in his presence.

And yet. She was still standing outside the door, shifting from foot-to-foot in a suit she’d slipped off-island that morning to pick up. A new identity, a new direction to head in after school was over. It brought peace of mind to her, right now, even though she knew the future would be hard. There was a card in her pocket, a new piece of I.D., with a name she’d chosen on Tuesday.

It was—this was—something huge. But just to her.

And to him.

Ino took a deep breath, spent an extra moment making extra sure she was still neat and tidy in her new suit, her new shoes, her new self because Ino knew that the suit was only the outward marking of a Turk and that this job would claim her for its own, and then pushed open the door, stepped inside, and shut it. All silently, all in seconds.

“Zack?” she said, after a breathless moment of something not unlike fear, while he did squats, his back to the door. He hadn’t noticed her.

Not until she’d spoken.

[For the puppy, zomg, and NFB, plz!]
intraspective: (mourning)
Her conversation with Reno had… gone.

That was a good word for it, she thought, flopping down on her bed. Gone. This time, rather than solely focus on what was wrong, though, she reached for her phone and one of her notebooks.

In order to change things, she had to do something.

So that ‘one day’ that they’d promised each other had a chance of actually happening. Ino worked, writing out everything she remembered from Gaia, using the pictures and videos she’d taken to jog her memory.

If change was to happen, they’d have to do it themselves. It didn’t change the way grief pounded on her, the way that devastation lurked under a veneer of productivity, but that was alright. She’d relearn how to function. Was doing so right now.

Each word written was another arrow to knock a timeline off whack. Defy fate. And refuse to allow history to repeat itself.

[Oooopen door and post!]
intraspective: (stare)
Being back in Fandom was a peculiar… sort of disconnect.

Ino was curled up on hers and Zack’s pushed together beds and pretending to read. Which was rather futile because she knew it was pretence and so it would have been more productive to actually do something…

But she didn’t really feel like it. There were a lot of things she had to think on, but those thoughts felt almost like she was clinging to broken glass in her hands, and that hurt.

Like a toothache, however, she couldn’t quite stop poking at them. Even when doing so only hurt things more.

And, turn the page. Keeping up appearances, even just to herself, was important.

She was supposed to be reading. Would claim to be reading.

But her gaze wasn't on the book.

[Open door and post!]
intraspective: (oh neat!)
Really, it had been a month and a half now and Ino had to admit that she was—feeling better. Between her father teaching Zack (and water walking had proved to be quite a hilarious thing to watch) and her father teaching her, she was feeling useful and busy without it being anything too taxing.

She hadn’t seen either of her previous teammates, which stung, but Ino stomped down firmly on that as she disentangled her mind from her father’s and ignored his look. It wasn’t the first time she’d avoided… whatever it was he’d wanted to talk about.

And she doubted it would be the last.

“That’s enough for now,” he said, after a moment. “How about you go and get some air?”

It was phrased as a suggestion, but Ino was well used to her father’s orders. With a quick kiss to his cheek, she left the room, went down the long, dark hall and out into the sunshine. It was a lovely day—February, already, which made her head hurt if she thought too hard about the days and how they related to Fandom—but, Ino thought, as she leaned against the balcony and pulled out her phone, hitting speed dial, maybe all that time had been what she’d needed.

And, across universes, her phone call reached…

[For ze raspberried one. Mwahaha. NFB.]
intraspective: (laughter)
Ino laughed.

Perched up on a wooden fence, elbows on her knees and her chin propped up in her hands, she watched with bright, rested, eyes as Zack was walked again through the basic steps to walk up a tree.

It was a skill, truly, that wasn't usually taught to those who hadn't gone through the Academy, but her father had decreed that he was going to learn a few things, or so help him, and while she was supportive in the sense that she'd give him theory…

Well, when it came to watching his practical attempts, Ino tended to dissolve into giggles. (Truly, he wasn't doing so badly for someone who, a week and a half ago hadn't known chakra from dirt, but…)

"You've got to keep your eyes open while moving," she called helpfully, before cracking up again.

[NFB, for ze puppy, mmm gratuitous timewarpiness.]
intraspective: (gazing down thoughtfully)
The trip to Konoha had been blissfully uneventful and a tension that Ino hadn't even been aware of drained away as the day had gone on, which almost, but did not quite, eradicate the peculiar feeling that she was on vacation in truth and not… home.

It was nice to see her parents, however, and Ino pretended that she didn't notice the way her mother frowned at her appearance or the glances over her head between them (at seventeen, Ino was resigned to never getting to be taller than they were) and concentrated on enjoying just being at the shop and explaining to Zack what each flower was and what it meant when combined with other flowers.

That was a topic that kept her well entertained until supper, wherein the talk had turned to more general matters and Ino found herself trying to stifle yawns over her rice. Zack's dietary habits earned her a raised eyebrow, when Zack wasn't looking, but were handled otherwise without comment for which Ino was grateful for.

All the gratefulness in the world, however, was going to keep her awake long once they'd retired from the table to the living room and had settled themselves on the couch. It wasn't more than a few minutes before she was fast asleep.

And that, all unknown to Ino, was when her father set his tea down on the coffee table and gave her boyfriend a blue-eyed glance that verged on hostile.

"So," he said, "my daughter."

[NFB, for ze puppy, la la la!]


intraspective: (Default)
Yamanaka Ino

October 2017



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