Korona Karyuudo: And, here we go! A new project that ffgtfgtr and I have started called the NPC Chronicles. Using strange, wacky comparisons, we will be attempting to give every Pokemon Game NPC an actual personality or way of living/thinking/being. The first prompt response is mine; the second isn't. I hope you guys follow us through this 'journey' and maybe even leave us ideas to do next time! Oh, and just so you know, this in no way has anything to do with the actual fic we've been planning for a while, so it is also not our first collab together.. if that made sense... Well, bye!

ffgtfgtr: This is what happens when you really feel like chatting but don't have anything to chat about.

Anyways, yeah, the first one is hers, second is mine.


Prompt: Beauty + Fast Food

Info: Yes you guys, we ARE comparing the 'Beauty' character in the games to fast food, something that would actually repulse them in real life. How fun. =)

Disclaimer: No, neither one of us are in ownership of Pokemon. Sucks doesn't it. ='(


Above her head the light from the chandelier sparkled off of the surrounding crystal beads and panes, shrouding the room in rainbows. Sitting daintily, legs crossed, arms folded gently on the table, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

So flawless, so...so beautiful.

Being pretty took time, and Lugia knows she took all time in the world. Although, she perfected it to less than 10 minutes, 5 if she were in a hurry, like wanting the fast food one orders: right away too.

It was worth it really, seeing how men drooled after her appearance as if she were some sort of beefy hamburger, some kind of taco they'd want to unwrap. The cover-up smoothed her complexion, her face finely coated, finely coated like the beautiful golden brown breadcrumbs on chicken. Her eyes smoldered; a wonderful fire just waiting to cook, to burn. Hair, golden, golden gently splayed down her back in waves like the dressing or sauce being spurted out from a large bottle.

And the beauty, staring, staring with a blind eye back at her reflection quickly applied some gloss to her plump lips; greasy, taunting, you'd want to just eat them up with kisses.

Beautiful, she thought, just beautiful.

It wasn't easy being a beauty, but oh how it was worth the price.


Hair curlers. Check.

Hair dye. Yep.

Eye liner? Positive.

Mascara. Of course.

Nail polish. Duh.

How about lipstick? Can't leave home without it.

And the final touches... done!

And it only took half an hour to engineer this look, like the patties for fast food burgers, frozen at first with the enhancements locked inside and then slowly seeping out on the greasy grill.

"Let's go, Mary. You too, Fluffy!" our synthetic superstar calls. Her 'little darlings,' Mary the Marill and Fluffy the Glameow, follow her out of the bathroom and down the shining wooden stairs into the living room.

She grabs a pair of heels made of (fake) snakeskin, and sits on her (faux) leather chair as she pulls them on, slowly sinking into the unstuffed depths of the furniture before she finishes and hops right back out.

"Showtime you two; let's do this right. And Mary, for Ho-oh's sake," she drawled, "Don't do a stage dive."

She grabs her (artificial) mink coat, heads out the glass door, and strolls down the path to the sidewalk. It was a short walk to the theater, and she'd of course get to see her lovely fans gape at her looks, the flawless way she applied every single drop of every single makeup. She should be paid just for that.

But, in a way, she was.

She waves to the next door neighbor as he adjusts his contact lenses. He's received his order and is of course enjoying it, vaguely knowing of what's behind his meal but not caring. He's wearing an Armani, of course, and is probably readying himself to see her perform.

And then, a single raindrop.

Then another.

And one more.

The clouds have opened up, gotten upset, started to cry, and soon the tears are filling up the storm drains like cups of water. Free refills, of course.

And as our bogus beauty looks around at the scurrying pedestrians looking for cover, she looks at her pokemon. Fluffy is ticked at the rain, as usual; Mary is dancing around, as usual.

That's when she looks herself over in her compact.

She can only watch as her makeup, every lovely bit of it, starts to drip, peel off like old paint, uncover her real face and smear it simultaneously.

As beautiful as she looked on the outside, everyone always knew that it was just a cover.

Nothing is ever as good as it looks, and this is just an example.

Reality 1, Engineering 0.


Prompt number 1 is done! Prompt number 2, coming soon! =)

ffgtfgtr: Hooray for bringing a relevant social topic into FF! XD

Hey, this isn't fair, why do you get the first AND last words?

Korona Karyuudo: Oh come now, we'll change it up next time if that'll make you feel better. ;) Bye for now! Don't forget to R&R, maybe favorite, alert, etc? Or, quite possibly check out our separate accounts! Till next time! - Torrie