Mia Moore

Academy II By Mia Moore "At the end of the world, there will be neither clamor nor calamity, neither echo nor epoch. It will be mired in silence and sleep, in deliverance and death. At the end of the world, there will be both patience and purpose, both temperance and time. Only then will it be graced with eternity, and from eternity, a chance." -The Source, in valediction Chapter (Last) One "Why..." Bala sat in the dark. A spotlight clicked on above her, forming a puddle of yellow light beneath her dangling feet. She was sitting in a high chair, with her head down on the tray. When she finally found the energy to sit up, another spotlight clicked on, six or so feet away from her. Ai was standing in the middle of the pool of light. She was naked. So was Bala. Neither of them cared enough anymore to dress themselves. In the indefinable vastness of possibility, clothes were a chore. Their bodies, however, were second nature. First nature, perhaps. "Why?" Bala asked again. "Why can't you leave me alone?" "You're one to talk," Ai said sharply, but her sharpness was that of a toddler's knife. Fragile, plastic, without an edge. Behind them, a wheel turned. An infinite, infinitesimal, contradictory wheel, decorated with time and fate. "Just stop it," Bala begged. Tears filled her eyes. Big, wet, floaty tears. They fell away from her without gravity, like a spilled canteen on a spacecraft. No, Ai thought. Because that was what she always said. That was how she always felt. But this time, the word was too heavy. She had pushed that word - "no" - up the hill so many times, for it to tumble back down. As she tried to shove the word out of her mouth, she was too weak to move it a single inch. "Whatever," Ai said instead. She sat down in the darkness and held her head in her hands. Behind her, a wheel turned. The two of them were each quiet for a moment, because they both knew that it didn't matter what they said. They were like oil and water, like the sun and the moon, like politicians across the aisle: understanding, empathy, and common ground were impossible goals. Ai and Bala were mutually exclusive, and both of them knew it. That fact was, perhaps, the only thing they'd ever agreed upon. "Out of all the places I've been, this is the worst." Ai finally mumbled, after a time that could have been a moment, a while, or forever. "Alone, in a room, with you?" Bala asked rhetorically. "Agreed." It seemed even the universe was tired of the two of them, and now they were in time out. A fitting punishment. As they waited in silence, an image flickered above them, grainy and jittery like an old overhead projector from an elementary school on a low budget. It showed Ai, and it showed Bala; as children, as friends. A screenshot of a reality that never existed, and for the two of them, never could. Bala looked up and watched the image melt into another, like a movie playing in the sky. Two little girls, ignorant of the complexity of the universe. Two little girls, playing in the din of inconsequence. Two little girls, purposeless. Two little girls, happy. "I tried to make this happen so many times," Bala said. She had no reason to talk to Ai. So she went on, to herself. "I tried to make us friends. I tried to make a world where there were no repercussions for anything." "A world where I didn't exist," Ai added. "A world where you didn't exist. A world where neither of us could remember anything." "A world frozen in time," Bala continued. "A world made up of nothing but emotions." "A world with big people and small people," Ai remembered. "A world where we were all specks of light." "A world of different worlds. Where everyone could have their own world." "A world where we were characters in a story. Remember that?" "I ran out of ideas, and I had to break the pattern," Bala sighed. "I still don't know how you got out of that one." Ai didn't answer. "I liked the world with all the map puzzles," Ai said. "You solved them faster than I could make them." Silence. "I liked the one with the pet people," Bala said. "Yeah, I was… a puppy girl or something?" Bala didn't answer. "I don't know what to do," Bala confessed. It was baffling to hear the will of God admit to such a mortal failing. "Trying to make sense of you is like trying to catch a deluge in a paper cup." It was silent. No time passed, because time did not exist. Behind them, a wheel turned. "Do you know why I'm strong enough to be here?" Ai finally asked. "Do you know why I can fight you like this?" "I know everything," Bala sighed, like everything was the worst thing to know. "That woman from the Academy--" The Academy. Those two words brought back a surge of nostalgia to the both of them. It was like hearing a nickname you were called as a child, a nickname you didn't particularly like. The movie above them flickered to disparate, inconsequential scenes from their pasts, interlaced in an order unorthodox. It was lifetimes ago, but Ai remembered. "Maria, she..." "Betrayed the Academy," Bala finished. Ai shook her head. Maybe Maria did betray the Academy, but she did more than that. She betrayed herself. Ai looked up at Bala, sitting naked in the high chair. And though she thought nothing of her own nudity, Bala looked incomplete. Had she always looked that way? When Bala looked down at herself, she was suddenly wearing a onesie with little angel wings and halos printed on it. Underneath it, the familiar feeling of a diaper. Bala looked up at Ai, sitting naked in the pool of yellow light. She had more thoughts in a single moment than all of consciousness through all of time, but it wasn't enough. A diaper and a onesie was not a malicious outfit, and nothing explained why Ai would afford her any kindness at all. Behind her, a wheel turned. "I hate you," Bala said flatly. "I know," Ai sighed. "You betrayed me," Bala said, and fresh tears floated around her head. The movie above them flickered to one scene in particular, when their stories overlapped. The moment when Bala was sent back to the Cold Room, and Ai was given all the answers she could ever want. "I know..." Ai watched the low-quality film reel. That moment was so long ago, and it was only a moment ago. Ai knew, even then, that she had made a mistake. Throughout every universe, every battleground, Ai justified her actions with a single doctrine: next time, she could do better. That moment with Bala didn't define her, no more than the thousands of mistakes before it or the million mistakes after. In time, she would learn. She would grow. She would change. But as she watched that movie, she realized... she hadn't changed at all. Maria betrayed herself and the institution she worked hard to build, all so that Ai could have some autonomy in the new world. And what did Ai do with it? She fought for countless lifetimes to be the same person she had always been. The same woman who walked away from Bala all those lifetimes ago. For the first time in infinity, Ai understood why Bala was doing what she was doing. Because it wasn't enough to trust in humanity's desire to grow. Change was hard. Change was long. And for so many people, they never bothered to start. Ai never bothered to start. Behind her, a wheel turned. "I'm sorry," Ai said. Big, wet, floaty tears filled her eyes. "I should never have treated you that way. I should never have acted like my needs were more important than yours." For a time - although time was nonexistent and incalculable now - Bala was quiet and still. Frozen in thought. A thousand universes could have been born and a thousand and one could have died in the moment that it took her to form words. "You're right. You shouldn't have treated me that way. You shouldn't have acted that way. You shouldn't have. But you did. And now look where we are." Bala remembered a thought she had a long time ago, at the end of one of her stories, and a thought she kept close to her throughout the incalculable iterations of the universe. "This is all your fault," Bala spat at her, eyes wet with tears. "I know..." Ai rubbed her eyes. She didn't want to cry in front of Bala. She didn't want to show weakness. But something about the space she was in, or something about her realization, was too much to mask. Tears dripped away from her cheeks, forming globules of glittering water that drifted around her head like planets around a star. For a while, in relative terms, Bala and Ai cried. Above them, the movie of childhood friends - the impossible universe left unmade - flickered onto the screen. The two little girls cried together, on opposite ends of a front stoop. They held themselves instead of each other. Ai racked her brain for some way to make it up to Bala, but it wasn't possible. She couldn't make up for millennia of suffering. She could never atone for bringing sin into Bala's worlds. All at once, her resolve began to crumble. Could she ever really change? At this point, would it even matter? Ai wanted to sink into her old ways. She wanted to slip into self-pity or self-hatred, old clothes she never had the time to wear anymore. She wanted it to be easy. Finally, Ai and Bala were on the same page. There was no reason to fight. If she let Bala have her way, all her sins would be erased. She could start over again, as someone perfect. She never had to know the feeling of wanting to be more than she was. Of not being enough. But Ai's catharsis lasted only a fraction of never. Ai looked up at Bala, crying in the high chair. Overhead, a new movie was playing. Moments of Bala, through her childhood. Through her job as a nurse. Through the Academy. Through universes, like pages of a flip book that didn't tell a story. But Ai knew the story. She'd known it for a long time. Ai remembered a memory of a memory. Behind her, a wheel turned. Ai slowly got to her feet, wiping the tears out of her eyes and splashing them into the ring around her head. It was a solid circle now, glittering in the spotlight. But it vanished along with Ai when she stepped out of the pool and into the darkness. Alone with an empty spotlight, Bala cried. She cried, because she couldn't do it right. And she knew, deep down, Ai wasn't the reason her universes kept failing. The truth was, Bala just wasn't good enough. Then Ai appeared in front of her, in her spotlight, and touched the tray table of her high chair. It evaporated into glitter. Bala looked up at Ai, and before confusion could wash over her face, Ai wrapped her arms around the crying girl. Above them, in the movie, one girl had moved to the other side of the stoop and hugged the other. "Shh..." Ai whispered. "It's okay. It's okay." "It's not." That was Bala's first thought, her first response, her knee-jerk reaction in the form of words, as instinctual as pulling away from a flame. Not an answer from her brain, but from her lips. How could things ever be okay again? There was nothing left but the two of them, and for anything else to exist, it was predicated entirely on Bala's will for it to be. How could she ever will someone to be part of her constant, unending failure? The truth was – to Bala, in her nothing – Ai meant everything to her. Ai was the only thing she couldn't control. Bala sobbed. Each tear had enough energy to birth a billion realities. Each heaving, choking, ugly cry took away so much potential that even entropy itself ceased to exist. Behind her, a wheel turned. "I'm lost… I've lost…" "You didn't lose anything," Ai said warmly, holding Bala tight to her chest. "They gave you an impossible task. To make a world where everyone is supposed to be happy? To make something perfect? It's not possible." "It is," Bala argued, because it had to be possible. Because otherwise, she never had a chance to succeed in the first place. And all this was for nothing. "It's not," Ai said again, softer. "It's not possible to be perfect. Nothing is perfect. Nobody is perfect. You... you can't be perfect." "I have to be perfect," Bala tried, sobbing into Ai's chest. She clung tightly to Ai's white dress, hand-embroidered with little flowers. She wanted to cling to a dress. She wanted Ai to be wearing it. And so she was. "No, Bala. You don't have to be anything. Not perfect. Not a baby. Not an adult, either. Not a god, or a nurse. And certainly not this. You don't have to be anything you don't want to be." But only one thing came to mind when Bala thought about what she wanted to be: "I want to be a good girl..." she cried. Ai knew how Bala felt, because Ai too wanted to be a good girl. Every girl wanted to be a good girl, and every boy wanted to be a good boy, and everyone wanted to be a good person. Because a drive for goodness was not the product of the Academy, but the product of humanity. A long time ago, something came into existence, and that thing was one thing. Be it consciousness or God, that was all there ever was. Then, something happened, and there was something else. This dichotomy led to discussion, debate, protest, argument, and war. Right versus wrong. Good versus bad. But at the root, good has always been nothing more than the thing you want to move toward, and bad has always been the thing you want to move away from. The difference may be subjective, but the purpose is clear: movement. At the end of a million worlds, with millennia of experiences behind you, it's not hard to see the truth. In that moment, it wasn't hard for Ai, and it wasn't that much harder for Bala either. Behind them, a wheel turned. "You're a good girl," Ai said, hugging Bala even tighter. "You're good, because you try to be better. That's all it takes." With each passing universe she created, Bala measured goodness by the starting point. She had to optimize the rules, not to allow for betterment, but to encourage stagnation, because the only way to go was down. If what Ai was suggesting was true, and it was movement that mattered, then Bala had created worlds without "good". How could she be a good girl in a goodless world? All this time, Bala had been thinking that, if only Ai would stop interfering, she could find the right answer. She could create the perfect world. But if Ai wasn't there to foil all her plans, would she ever be happy? Could she? The truth was, a long time ago, Bala had given up on ever finding happiness. That was why her mission was so important: it was her last chance to do something right. For the first time in time's nonexistence, Bala was at a loss. Behind her, a wheel turned. "I have to figure it out," Bala mumbled under her breath. "I… I gotta…"

 "And then what?" Ai asked. She broke her hug, but she kept the soft tones. "You'll always worry about it. Always think that you're doing something wrong. It's not fair to you, Bala. Everyone isn't your responsibility."

 Bala shook her head quickly.

 "You're just… trying to trick me. That's all you do, is trick me and hurt me."

 Ai hesitated. Was Bala wrong? Had Ai ever done anything for Bala, or in Bala's interests? She couldn't remember a single time, in all the universes they had shared together.

 "Listen…" Ai said quietly, taking Bala's hands in hers. "I know you don't have any reason to trust me. I know I probably shouldn't trust you, either. But you're not a villain. And neither am I. And, I'm starting to think… we aren't even the heroes. We're just people."

 Bala looked up into Ai's eyes, still blurry with tears. She had to be the hero. She had to be the martyr. She had to die on the cross, to save everyone else. She didn't have to be happy about it. Good and happy… she couldn't be both.

 "I have to…" Bala muttered.

 "I don't think so," Ai said simply. "But, I'm done assuming everything I think is right. So, if you really want to, then… make a new world. Try again. I won't stop you this time."

 Bala stared blankly, as if in all the impossibilities the multiverse had to offer, this was the least likely.

 "I don't believe you…" Bala said.

 "Well, I can try my best," Ai answered, because she figured it was about time she believed in someone other than herself. For better or for worse, Ai wouldn't make the same mistakes. There are two important facts about faith that worked in Ai's favor at that moment. The first: you have to be entirely without evidence to have faith, which was perfect for Ai and Bala, who had no evidence that either of them was worth trusting. The second: you're more likely to put your faith in something when you're desperate, and Bala was very desperate. Behind them, a wheel turned. "…what kind of world should I make…?" Bala asked. At first, Ai thought her question was rhetorical, like someone asking themself "what to wear…" in the morning. But, like an unanswered instant message, Bala seemed to be waiting for Ai to take her off Read. "Are you asking me?" Bala nodded sheepishly. Ai had absolutely no idea. She had spent the better part of existence in reboot universes. She'd seen everything there was to see. She knew how every single outcome of every single variable would play out. And so did Bala. But there was one pervasive feature that always seemed to come up, and Ai's curiosity once again got the best of her. "Do you actually like all this baby stuff?" Ai asked awkwardly. She quickly added: "No judgment." "I... I'm not sure," Bala admitted, looking up at the two children talking on the stoop. "I just don't want to have any more responsibility..." In a way, Bala was the caregiver to every soul in the universe. But before that - before the Academy - Bala liked having responsibilities. She liked feeling needed and valuable. She liked doing the right thing, even if it meant sometimes doing the wrong thing. Maybe she didn't even want to be a baby at all. She just didn't want to be a mom. Ai and Bala were quiet for a while, as each tried to think of the right answer to an unanswerable question. What ending would be satisfactory? What was a good conclusion, after such an impossible, incoherent series of events? How could either of them hope to make everyone happy? "What about that?" a voice said. Not Ai's voice, and not Bala's, but the voice of God herself. Ayoka Kanoska stood a few feet away, dressed in something impossible. She was pointing up at the sky, where a movie was playing. The two little girls weren't on the stoop anymore; they were playing hop-scotch with sidewalk chalk. Whatever turmoil had them crying just before… it was gone now. Behind Aya, a wheel turned. "It's not possible," Bala sighed. She'd spent so many eternities with Aya that even her sudden presence wasn't a surprise anymore. Her hopeless optimism, her unflinching generosity, her unbearable kindness. And what had Bala done with it? Mutated her. Abused her. Took her for granted. More tears spilled from her eyes and began to orbit around her head. "It's okay," Aya said warmly, resting a hand on Bala's back and kissing her temple. Ai took an awkward step backward, and the spotlight around them grew to accommodate. "How can you say that? Don't you have any self-respect?" Bala shouted. But her voice was no louder than a hatpin hitting the carpet. And Aya's voice was full of every star in the universe. She was true power, and Bala was as fragile as the human will. "We chose this together," Aya said simply. "We've sacrificed everything, you and I. I don't regret it." "How can you not?" Bala laughed, rubbing tears out of her eyes. In that moment, all three of them knew the same truth of Bala: that when Maria gave her that gun, she wished now that it had killed her. Behind her, a wheel turned. Aya took Bala by the hand and helped her to her feet. The high chair was gone, as if it was never there to begin with. Then Aya wrapped her arms around Bala in a hug. For no good reason other than there was no good reason not to, Ai stepped forward and joined in. "I don't regret it," Aya said again, "because I would rather be here with the two of you than nowhere at all." That hug lasted forever. It still goes on, to this day. It transcends space and time and everything known and unknown in the universe, and it has nothing to do with Aya or her power. It lasted forever because hugs between friends always do. In front of them, a wheel turned. "What about that?" Aya said again, pointing up at the sky where a movie was playing. The two little girls were still playing hopscotch. The little girl next door came over to play with them. "It's not possible," Bala said again. "I've tried." Ai watched the three of them jumping from one square to the next, taking turns. One and two and three four and… she fell. The little Indian girl, with dark hair and wet eyes. She looked up at the other two in a panic. Afraid of… something. But they each took a hand and helped her up. She tried again. "No…" Ai said quietly. She finally understood what Aya was saying. "Not a world where we all get along, or a world where we can be friends. But that world." Ai pointed up at the sky where a movie was playing. "That's… no way." Bala shook her head in a panic. "I have hundreds of requests! I promised I'd do it right, I promised, and they're gone now, so I have to–" "You don't have to," Ai reminded her. She took Bala's hand. "You can always say no, and you can always change your mind," Aya said. She took Bala's other hand. Once upon a time, Bala Khatri would do anything to honor someone's choices, even if it went against her values or beliefs. Now, she was asked to do that again: to honor her own right to choose, even though it went against her values and beliefs. In front of her, a wheel turned. "We don't know anything about that universe," Bala muttered. "It could be a horrible world. Death and famine and hatred… if I could take a look, tweak it…" "You'd never stop," Ai said with a sad smile. "I've seen you do it," Aya concurred. Bala watched the movie in the sky, as the child that could be her readied herself to once again hopscotch across the sidewalk. Her friends on the sidelines cheered her on. "She doesn't even know…" Bala said, with fresh tears floating down her cheeks and collecting in a circle above her head. "That girl, she doesn't know what I am. What we are. What we've done…" "We don't have to be this," Aya reminded Bala and Ai both. Then she gestured at the movie playing overhead. "We can be that, if we want to." "And what? Forget everything? Pretend we're not the creators of this universe?" "It's not pretending," Ai said to herself, working through everything she had learned. Everything Maria did, everything she failed to do. Then she said: "We can just choose to be different. We always could have." Bala was at a loss for words. Ai and Aya were proposing ego death, to cease to be. To willingly give up parts of who they were, for a chance at being something different. To… change. At the heart of it, that's how change works. A part of you has to die for another part to live and grow. That's why change is so scary. That's why nobody ever wants to do it. Not until it's too late, and things are too terrible. Nobody ever changes… until they can't stand not to. "I don't want to be in charge of everyone…" Bala finally said. "I don't want to have all this power," Aya added. "I don't want to keep fighting all the time," Ai finished. All three of them looked up at the movie and watched it together. They stared at it for so long that they started to believe the girls in the spotlight were a dream, and the girls in the grainy, low-budget movie were real life. In front of them, a wheel turned. Eventually, Aya looked at Bala. Eventually, Ai looked at Bala. Eventually, Bala looked at the floor. With enough time, no wall can stay up forever, not even the bonds that hold together the human soul. All three of them were on the same wavelength, and all knew what was coming next. Bala slowly nodded. It was time for this to end. But then she said: "I want to check on something first." "No," Ai and Aya both said in unison. "One thing," Bala begged. "One thing, I promise. And… in return, you can each check on something too." Ai and Aya both looked at each other. Three rules. Three rules, and everything else was left up to chance. "What do you want to look into?" Ai asked. "If the Academy exists," Bala said simply, "because I don't want it to." Everyone agreed. No one should have power over another's fate. Ai was next. She could have anything in the new world. She could be rich, or she could be powerful. She could have her fiancé back, but she'd had thousands of fiancés. Thousands of life partners. And each one was as special and important as the last. In the new world, whoever she found, she knew they would be exactly what she needed. So Ai thought of something else. "I want everyone to always have the opportunity to grow, no matter what happens." "Are you sure?" Bala asked skeptically. She had known Ai for a long time, longer than anyone knows anything, and Ai's request felt out of character. So she challenged it: "Even Maria Porter?" Ai sighed. She didn't like to think about Maria, because she couldn't help but think the worst of her. But the woman who came into the Memoriam and apologized, that wasn't the Maria that Ai knew. Whatever happened to her, whatever made her change… it was nothing short of a miracle. Ai wanted a world where miracles could happen. "Yeah, sure," Ai shrugged. "She deserves a chance to be happy." "That's very gracious of you," Aya smiled. "Hey, I'm not actually a demon!" "No, you're an angel," Aya said, and tapped the halo of tears circling around Ai's head. Ai blushed. Bala reached above her own head and smiled to herself. All that crying, all that emotion, had formed a halo. Maybe she had been a good girl after all. "What about you?" Ai asked Aya. "Last one." "Hm…" Aya put her finger to her chin in thought. In every universe, she always had exactly what she wanted, even when what she wanted wasn't good for her. She had power beyond even her own comprehension. But power wasn't enough. Even the Source knew it: one person alone couldn't reset the world. It had to be two. It had to be together. Aya looked at Bala, her connection to humanity. Her chariot, pulling the sun across the sky. While Aya sat at the lead, Bala did the work. She was the guide, like Virgil through the afterlife, writer of myth and creation. Aya looked at Ai, her connection to reality. Her magician, a polymorph spell, a serpent in defense of fate at Delphi. While Aya was young and naive, Ai followed her instincts. She was the challenger, full of mistakes and questions as juicy as apples. Never once did Aya see evil in either of those two girls. Perhaps because there was never any evil to begin with, or perhaps because Aya couldn't find any within herself. In her soul, there were no shadows; it was full of fire, of destruction and light. But Aya chose to never nock an arrow. She never found evil beyond redemption, and that was a choice anyone could make. "No matter how powerful any one person gets," Aya decided, "I want the world to be everyone's responsibility." The rules were set, the choices made. Three girls, three wishes, and the dawn of something new. A place where they could be less of what they had to be, and more of what they wanted to be. A place where I get to put down this pen and do the same. They got three rules; I get three more sentences. With nothing left to do and no time left to do it, God hugged her angels goodbye and hello. In a dark room, lit by a single spotlight and the glow of an old movie, the world came to an end for the last time. But that hug will last forever. [End.]

First and foremost, I want to thank @Sophie ♥, @Pudding, @Personalias, @bigred0603, @Lyra Silver, @PeculiarChangeling, and @bbykimmy for their installations in Academy II. When I decided to write seven different worlds for the finale, I admit, I found the task incredibly daunting. And when it was suggested to me that I should instead let seven other authors write those worlds, I admit, I found that to be even more daunting. I am so used to being in control of everything in my life, lending out something as important as Academy Works - especially for the finale! - felt so dangerous. But they brought the worlds to life in ways I never could have. They created their own art within my art, and I will be forever grateful to have worked with such incredible writers and such incredible people. I believe that Academy Works is stronger for their involvement, and I believe it will make this next chapter all the more powerful. Secondly, I want to thank everyone who has been reading this series. When I started writing Academy Works, I wanted to prove to everyone that I was good at something. That I could write some kind of huge epic baby smut story that had something for everybody. Something people would want to show their friends, something they would be inspired by. I wanted to go down in history as one of the great ABDL authors, just like all the people who worked on A:2 with me. Just like Ai, I wanted to find my purpose. But now that it's ending, I realize that I don't care what happens next. If my story ends up forgotten along with all the others on this website, if nobody ever talks about it again, that would be okay. Because writing Academy Works has taught me so much. It's given me so much. Wonderful friendships. Camaraderie with other writers in my field. A readership that thinks and cares and speculates and treats my words like they are important. A sense of competence. Academy Works is also the reason my girlfriend and I are together. So... to everyone who read this series, and especially to those who have left comments, thank you so much for showing me that the journey is more invaluable than any destination. Anyway... The end of Academy Works has always been in the back of my mind. I imagined a world after countless worlds, where everyone was too tired to keep on going. Where they had to stop and think for once. To talk. To connect. For those who have played Xenogears, I took a lot of inspiration from the second disk. But I didn't know how it would truly end until I started writing it. Until I read all of the A:2 stories from the authors listed above. I saw the puzzle come together and the pieces fall in place. And I ended up with... this. I hope this is good enough. I'm terrified that maybe people will read the ending and hate it. How am I supposed to wrap up everything at this point? How can I possibly make everyone happy? Well... I guess I can't. I'm not perfect. But I hope I'm perfect enough for all of my fans. Once more, in valediction... thank you all so much. ~Mia Moore~

Thank you so much Kimmy! I used to read Life in the Dollhouse way back in the day and I was so excited to see you finished it recently. When a list of authors came up on who to include on this project, I just had to have your unique style and tone. And gosh, you sure didn't disappoint! This is such an incredible penultimate installment. Also, Ai should have always been a detective. In retrospect, I have no idea what she was doing working at that grocery store back in Academy I ~Mia Moore~

@PeculiarChangeling - I could never have imagined what you had planned for this story... you made a universe where Ai and Bala are just characters in a story, which is exactly what they are for so many people. It's such a wonderfully creative (and totally wild!) meta analysis of writers and characters. That we create things for an audience, sometimes for ourselves, but what we make often becomes its own thing. It becomes greater than the sum of its parts. And isn't that what this whole Academy II project is about? When Sophie pitched you as a writer on this project, I was excited. You've been a big inspiration for me. Actually, when I need help with some of the sexier parts of Academy Works (specifically in A:A and A:M), I turned to your writing to help me through things I'm not great at describing. And then when Sophie told me what your ideas were, I was anxious. Because this is more meta than I wanted. It's weird, and it doesn't cater to the readers. I was scared of letting this story be something I didn't want it to be. But I'm glad I did. You told a story I was too afraid to tell. Honestly... not to be too sentimental or whatever... but Academy Works has totally changed my life. I've found out so many things about myself writing this series. Through Ai and Bala, I've been able to look at parts of myself that I consider bad or evil, things I hate about me, and see them through a more empathetic lens. And also, without Academy Works, I never would have met my girlfriend. Speaking of... I am extremely embarrassed (and flattered maybe???) that you made me a character in your story. (I am flashing back to Sophie asking me "can I share some personal info about you with the other writers?" not knowing it would matter this much!!!) But Blossom is going to be over the moon!! Anyway, I'm not that wordy. The fact that I've written so much in one comment is pretty out of character. So I'll wrap this up. Thank you for your contribution to the series! Thank you for your contribution to me. Now I have to rethink how I'm going to end Academy Works. ~Mia Moore~

@Lyra Silver - Thank you so much for your addition to Academy Works! I think this is one of the most creative things I've ever read. You get so much story about Ai and Bala in such a small space - a single room. But with the memories you still get to give the audience all those nice sexy moments. I wish I came up with the idea myself. And using the moment with Bala and Maria as a memory? So cruel! But maybe Ai will be able to have more empathy for Bala now, instead of seeing her as a villain? Anyway, thanks so much again! I think this is a fantastic addition to the series. ❤️ ~Mia~

I didn't plan out anyone's ideas. I gave a few guidelines about Ai being the main character and Bala being something of an antagonist. After everyone wrote their pieces, I looked through and gave a few notes and tried to change a few things to keep some consistency, but the rest was up to them.

@bigred0603 Oh my gosh your story is such a beautiful love letter to this series! I love all the recurring cast and the new roles they took on. Bala really did just make a whole new Academy, without all the awful parts. And it's still not enough for Ai. 🥺 Thank you so much for being part of this story. ❤️

I have never been so flattered. The best writing decision I've ever made!

Thank you so much, Personalias! 🥰 It's a true honor to have such an influential and iconic writer in the community contribute to my story. Your world space is absolutely chilling!! Oh my gosh, I was so anxious for Ai throughout the first few chapters. But watching her become a brat was so empowering, and then having it ripped out from under her... it was a huge roller coaster of emotions! I didn't see a single thing coming, and by the end, I was shocked with the simplicity of it all. Absolutely stellar storytelling, and I love your use of the tarot card stuff at the end. Thank you again for all your hard work on this project. ❤️ There aren't words for how flattered I am.. ~Mia~

MY CHARACTERS HAVE FAN ART????? 🥺🥺🥺 They are just how I imagined them!! ❤️

Thanks Soph! I absolutely love what you and Pudding did with Ai's adventurous spirit. The part with consent and "safe space" is incredible. And this paragraph in particular is just absolutely enchanting! ❤️ Next chapter comes out in a week.

Hey everyone! Welcome to Academy II, the final installment of Academy Works. The title is unlike previous installments, using a roman numeral instead of a letter. This is a play off Academy I, the first in the series, but it also has a few other meanings. You will quickly find that A2 is very different to the other stories! If you haven't read any Academy Works stories, there are six others in this universe. They are as follows: Academy I (Part 1), Academy B (Part 2), Academy T (Part 3), Academy K (Part 4), Academy A (Part 5), and Academy M (Part 6). Since this is the final book in the series, reading all of the previous ones will help you understand what's going on. I strongly encourage it. But if you want to jump right in on this one, I think you'll still have a good time. Thanks to all my readers and fans over the past few years. I hope this conclusion is everything you wanted it to be. You can support my work at this Patreon link, or this SubscribeStar link. ~Mia~ --------------------------------- Academy II will operate a bit differently than previous stories. Updates will be multiple chapters at once, with a bit of a twist. Please be patient and thoughtful with this new format. ❤️ Take it away, Soph. ---------------------------------

Oh my gosh, thank you so much!! I absolutely had a blast writing this story. Penny was such a throwaway character when I wrote her. But after just one chapter with her in it, I fell in love with her. When Maria goes on her little speech about "I loved this guy and this girl" and it says "I loved Penny the moment I laid eyes on her"... that's how I felt. I started writing her and I immediately fell in love with her. I do think you'll have a very fun and unique experience reading M first, then the others! You'll see a lot of the behind-the-scenes stuff that would have gone over your head if you'd read those ones first. I'm excited to hear what you think. ~Mia~

Thanks for coming back and giving your final thoughts on the story!! I hope the final story sticks the landing for you! Also, I think Maria is one of my favorite characters too... In my quest to humanize the villains of this story, I fear that I may have done too good a job! I really hope Maria can grow into the person she wants to become, and that she can have a happy life in some regards. Change is so difficult, and I'm proud of her at the end of this story.

One more book! Sorry for the confusion!! 🥺 But I'm going to start releasing it in just a few weeks, so you won't have to wait long. I thought that one was more obvious than the developmental stages!! But I'm glad I can keep surprising you, this late into the game. Thank you!! 🥰 Let's hope I stick the landing a little better than Lost did. So, this is interesting... a lot of the "mystery" behind things is tangentially wrapped up. It's not as complicated as people think. If you want more direct answers to any of these questions, I'm willing to explain more! The final book is less about the mystery and more about the conclusion. Just keep me posted. ❤️