#Yes. Sans is wearing socks and sandals

[blazepandaartz]

Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Story of UNDERTALE

[doctorsiren]

some pun about the nick of time

[funkydanganronpastories]

A Magical Surprise

Summary: What is the most surprising thing Tenko ever witness? Was it that everything they experienced a simulation? No. Was it the fact that she managed to get over her grudge Shinguji? No. Was it the fact that she managed not to call any male a degenerate for a week? No. Actually, the biggest surprising thing she ever seen happened when they were going to the beach.

or; Just me writing.

Warnings: Mentions of character death, cussing, slight nsfw? (swimming clothes) Himiko only shows up at the end. Tenko and Himiko didn’t become a couple in this fic.

Content: Simulation AU

———————————————————————

When Tenko first woke up after a couple of weeks of her death and the whole “simulation” thing, she first thought about Yumeno-San and Yonaga-San. Has the ritual work? Was Yonaga-san able to be revived? Why did she felt a pain on the back of her neck? The next thing was where was she, she certainly wasn’t here before.

After some worrying about Yumeno and some violent outburst of wanting to punch any man she sees, she was finally stopped by Akamatsu, which was even more confusing. Didn’t Akamatsu died? Is she dead?? Did the ritual actually work??

Her questions were answered by Akamatsu after another couple of moments of worrying, violent outbursts against men, and pondering of if she is dead. Apparently, it was a simulation made by Team Danganronpa, and she had died by the hands of Shinguji, alongside Yonaga-san. Also, she died for no reason, as the ritual didn’t even work.

She angered by this. How dare a degenerate male kill her and Yonaga-san! (even though she kinda did hate her but shhh) She ought to throw hands with that degenerate male right then and there if it wasn’t the fact she began to feel pain of her neck being stabbed again, a side-effect of getting killed. Yeah, who would of thought that getting killed in a simulation would have consequences?

It still took about 2 hours before Tenko calmed down and rest.

———————————————————————

It has been about 7-8 months after she had woken up, and she was doing great! She got over the fact that her past was mostly fabricated and her grudge with Shinguji (she still has the urge to kill him on sight at times). She also is trying really hard not to call men, degenerate males, but she sometimes call them MENaces instead of that. Well, better than degenerate males.

She learned that her Neo-Aikido was still something her “old” self had created, so she opened up a dojo, with a disguise of course. (It didn’t work, she was still spotted.) But, she got a lot money and was able to teach girls and boys (Yes, she does have a soft spot)

However, that isn’t the important part! The important part is the fact she got invited to go the beach with her, ahem, “former classmates”. She was considering not going, but if you know anything about Tenko, you know she adores a certain magician. Yes, she did cancel and refund everything just so that she see Yumeno.

I mean, of course she had to go to beach! She hasn’t seen Yumeno for more than half of year, she was worried! Why wouldn’t she be? Did something happened? Was Yumeno-san ignoring her? She asked the others what happened to Yumeno but they didn’t know either. She apparently left after processing the fact they were in a simulation.

So now Tenko was driving the beach (how responsible of her!), excited to see her classmates, especially Yumeno-San. She was wearing a quite oversized jacket for someone her size. Underneath it the jacket was a grey, blue, flannel swim bra and swim skirt. The swim bra covering her whole chest and ontop was a neatly wrapped white bow.

Yes, she was screaming and wearing socks with sandals.

———————————————————————

Once she arrived and parked her car at the nearest parking spot, she sprinted towards where her former classmates were. She needed to make sure that those degen-….Tenko needed to make sure that her classmates were safe, but especially the girls, and especially Himiko.

Unfortunately for her, only 6 people were currently there. However, 3 of them were girls, and the 4th and 5th one was Saihara and Gokuhara. She immediately went up to the 3 girls, which were Akamatsu, Tojo, and Iruma, and started to start up a conversation with them.

“Akamatsu-san! Tojo-san!…Iruma-san!”

“Hello!”

“Evening, Chabashira-san.”

“Good f-“

Kaede immediately slam her palm over Miu’s mouth, which prompted the girl to do an unsavory sound. A glare from Kaede and from Kirumi made Miu think more about her decisions. Kaede remove her palm so that Mou could try again.

“…Evening…” She simply mumbled her greeting, it wasn’t really that fun when she can’t swear.

Tenko didn’t mind this, and continued to chat with Akamatsu, Tojo, and Iruma.

———————————————————————

(Yes, Tenko is sitting on towel)

Soon, everyone arrived. Well, everyone except for the one that Tenko came for; Himiko Yumeno. She was extremely disappointed, but Yonaga-san did say that there was a chance Yumeno may show up, a 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲. Speaking of Yonaga-san, Tenko looked up at her to see what she was doing.

Angie Yonaga had both of the two side ponytails removed for the occasion, and her hair was more longer than the simulation. She apparently just removed her yellow coat, saying that it was more time efficient and wasted less money.

Yonaga soon spotted Tenko looking at her, which Tenko immediately looks away in shame and embarrassment while Yonaga-san laughed in amusement.

“S-Sorry Yonaga-san! Tenko- I. I couldn’t believe that I was being such a degenerate- I mean. I can’t believed I-“

“Hehe, it’s okay Chabashira-san! Angie doesn’t mind it one bit. It is quite entertaining to see you trip your words!”

Tenko slightly chuckled at this. When she first saw Yonaga-san with Yumeno-san, she immediately assumed the worst. But now? Now she seems more comfortable with her.

“Oooooh! It seems like you are blushing! Still get complimented easily?”

Tenko turn her head towards Angie, with a slightly amused and annoyed smile. “W-Watch it! Just because I have a low pain tolerance and is easily flustered doesn’t mean that I can’t-“

“You look so adorable with your swimsuit! Angie said so!”

Tenko immediately blushed at this and turned away once again, trying to cover her face with her mouth. Angie walked over and sat down with her on the towel. “Waiting for Yumeno-san, I see?”

Tenko nodded. It was really, really, 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 fucking obvious that she adores Yumeno-san. She is clearly worried about her, she only came to see her after all! Well, it was the main, biggest reason. But, besides the point.

“I….I’m worried. She hasn’t respond for days! Wha- What if I messed up??? Did I do something wrong?? Does Tenko need to do anything-“

“Relax, Chabashira-san! You are overthinking. She’ll be here, Bye-yonara!” She use one of her hands to rest on Tenko’s shoulder. “A chance is still a chance after all! If it will help, I could-“

“Yonaga-san, I am not doing that ritual again.”

“Come on~! It’ll be fun~!”

“Not for me!”

They look each other in the eye, the eyes of the ocean staring back at the warm green of grass. Both of them then started to chuckle, with Angie, it became full-blown laughter. Who would’ve thought that becoming friends with your “rival” is actually a nice experience?

Tenko still appreciates Yonaga’s efforts of comforting her. Many people don’t seem to see that Yonaga is actually quite smart, terrifying smart and supernatural at times. But it was harmless, mostly. She stills remembers that teddy bear incident.

As they continued to laugh, the last student to attend the party slowly starts to walk towards the classmates. It took them a while, but it was fine. They were here, and they were tired. They eyed at both Tenko and Angie before speaking.

“Nyeh, you two finally getting along…?”

Everybody stopped all conversations when they heard that voice. Some jumped, some went into a fighting stance, some just simply look, some didn’t even give a shit at all. What all of them had in common was that they were startled by how the figure looked, especially due to their reputation and their height.

Tenko, especially, eyed at who the figured were, and gasped at the sight of them. She almost thought she had a bloody nose from it. Angie looked at the figure and simply waved at them

“Yumeno-san, Bye-yonara! You came!”

“…Nyeh.”

Himiko was wearing a black, compressed, one-piece, swimsuit. The swimsuit was covered with drawings of playing cards, doves, and any kinds of magic tricks. The most notable about the classmate was herself, however. She grown about 4 inches, and was extremely muscular, muscular than Tenko. Her swimsuit was still able to shape her abs.

The class look at Himiko one by one, then to each other. All of them, even Ouma, were surprised by this revelation. It was a welcomed one, but a very strange and surprising one. Angie was the most calm about this, Tenko, wel, she wasn’t.

“YUMENO-SAN!!!!”

She got up and immediately ran towards Himiko, she barely managed to dodge the first hug, but was captured by the second. Tenko was “gently” swinging her around, a big grin on her face as the others watch.

“I am so glad you are okay! I thought you were gone- LOOK AT HOW MUCH YOU GROWN! You look so adorable omg I’m gonna scream-“

Tenko continued to ramble on and on, while still swinging and hugging Himiko. Yumeno-san was hugging back, smiling at how Tenko was reacting to all this. Her personality was a handful, but she would much have that rather than her being dead.

After a few minutes, Tenko let go. She was about to apologized to Himiko for her behavior before she did something unexpected….She boop her nose. Yup, Himiko boop Tenko’s nose.

“I’m glad to see you again, nyeh….I was worried.”

Tenko began the cry tears of joy immediately as Angie joined grab the both of them and hugged

“…So, when is the threesome-“

“SHUT UP, IRUMA!”

[theguywhoisjustkindofthere]

A little trip to the water park

Undertale fic I guess, I just wanted to write something a little bit fun, and I haven’t really written something like this before, so, here I go. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- It’s a beautiful day out in Sunnyside, birds are singing, flowers are blooming, and on days like this, kids like frisk, are getting ready to go to the water park. Frisk sits in their room, excited to finally take a break from all the grueling schooling, and puts all their fun sun day equipment into a bag. “Fps 5000, check, swim trunks, check, phone, check-” as they were checking their list, and checking it twice, someone begins to knock on the door and speaks “FRISKKKKKK ARE YOU READY?“ An excited papyrus says through the door. Frisk giggles and says “yes, I’m ready, I was just making sure I had all the stuff I needed!” Frisk then opens the door and sees papyrus in an old fashioned and brightly colored diving suit, his face shining through the little glass window. Funnily enough, frisk has lived with the bros long enough to get used to these hi-jinks and japes, so this was par for the course. “Are you really going to wear that?” Papyrus chuckles and says “OF COURSE HUMAN! I MADE THIS MYSELF!” As he says this, he strikes a pose showing off the EXCELLENT CRAFTSMANSHIP of the PAPYRUS BRANDED DIVING SUIT, covered with cool race car flames and bones. After appreciating the great artwork that was the PAPYRUS BRANDED DIVING SUIT, they both walk down to find sans in a floral shirt, shorts, and a pair of socks with sandals. Papyrus looks visibly disgusted and says “SANSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS WHY DID YOU HAVE TO WEAR THOSE?” Sans Yawns and responds “comfy, and it makes sure the tibia my toes don’t get too sun burnt” Papyrus rolls his eyes and picks him up “STOP LAYING AROUND LIKE YOUR PILE OF SOCKS AND LETS GET A MOVE ON!” Papyrus grabs his keys with sans under his arm and the three of them hop in the car, ready for a fun day in the sun! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ It’s been a bit since I’ve written, like, anything, so this was just something small I wanted to do for fun, also because I just need to post more and practice writing more. so, uh, yea -Forest

[seancekitsch]

Not to Touch the Earth

this is a prize buck 60s au bc apparently i have enough of an ego to do that

a/n & warnings: drug reference, alcohol references, no actual drug use, unprotected car sex, use of the word daddy, roughness, cult references, orgy references, none of this is even really prize buck canon but yknow we might reference it again for a joke or two. natural born killers reference also

“Some outlaws lived by the side of a lake, The minister's daughter's in love with the snake,” you sing off-key, “Who lives in a well by the side of the road. Wake up, girl, we're almost home!”

You punctuate the end of the verse by howling out the window of the car Klaus was using, voice being swallowed by the vastness of the desert somewhere on the California border. Klaus drove on, trying to remember a time you were ever so free. He figures you probably never were, not sober. Not totally sober like now. He was coming up on three years, you on six months, and your new favorite activity was definitely driving out into the desert, as far away from Klaus’ little commune as possible, and singing songs that hadn’t been written yet and making love on the hood of the car. 

He smiles and looks over, watching you lean out the window bathing in the golden light of the sunset and he has to laugh. Is this just what you’re like in a car? Or is it being trapped in time? Your first week here was spent avoiding any of his followers and trying to talk to any of the universities in San Francisco, but none of them would hire you because a woman with a doctorate was rare, and a woman professor was even rarer. You stopped trying in a fit of anger after one Dean told you your ‘husband was a brave man for letting his wife become so educated’ before offering to let you take undergraduate classes because those were available to women. So you leaned into helping him hide from the Destiny’s Children. You had fun here. You kept each other in check being sober, you kept him from being fully engulfed by the group. You like these people, you just wish they didn’t like you and your partner as much as they do.

But the times when the two of were alone were the best. Klaus loves stealing you away from everyone else and being with you like everything’s normal. He loves you without that twinge of shame you carry with you, without waking up with tears in your eyes and thinking he doesn’t notice them. You haven’t been crying or hiding it from him here. He loves how goofy you allow yourself to be, the way you don’t constantly hold yourself back.  He remembers back on earlier today, when you’d snuck up on him, licked a warm stripe up his neck and sang lyrics from the very song you were piecing together now.

“Not to touch the earth, not to see the sun. Nothin left to do but run run run,” you sang, only for him.

“Let’s run.”

You didn’t have to say it again before he grabbed the nearest set of car keys and was swatting at your ass to get you running for the passenger seat. 

You feel the hot air hit your skin, and you can’t remember a time you ever actually liked the heat. You never saw yourself even visiting southern California. Sobriety re-introduced you to the cold and you greeted her like an old lover. You like your cold weather and your jackets and your fucking hospital socks you stole and stockpiled which now didn’t even exist yet. But the heat here is different, it kisses your skin like Klaus does, frees you from the burdens of life fifty years from now. The heat is a reminder that you don’t have the struggles you had in 2019, the heat is a reminder you can rebuild yourself. You know you have to go back sometime, but you can be selfish and steal this time with Klaus. You squint into the setting sun on the horizon as Klaus makes the car slow, then veers off the empty road to park. You’d have the moonlight soon, which meant a cool night with him all to yourself. By the time he walks around to your side of the car, he blocks the sun from your view. Your eyes trail up from the tip of that ugly fucking beard he’s got growing to his chin, to his lips. To the grin he sports, saves only for you.

“Do you think they’ve noticed were gone?”

“Why? Worried Keechie’s missing you?” you snort.

“Keechie? God, no. Although, if I were you I’d be worried Madelaine was getting lonely by now”

Right; you were hiding from two members of the group in particular. Your first mistake was attempting to have sex in a five mile radius of the group. You didn’t think they’d barge into your tent and invite themselves to join. But, ever the adventurous and slightly stupid, you let them. Now two of the four that had been in your tent  were trying to recreate that moment again.

“Not my fault I rocked her world. You jealous, Prophet?”

“At first I was impressed because I didn’t think you swung that way, but yes. Yes, terribly.”

That probably isn’t much of a joke. Sobriety put a bit of a possessive streak in Klaus, and as much free love is flowing, it’s nice to feel like you belong to someone. And you do belong to Klaus, in every way that counts for your group. But you’d struck a chord with Madelaine and now shes creeping in on Klaus’ territory.  

He pulls you from the car, literally pulls you. His hands come up under your armpits and lift you from the car window until you can step out of the window and he can lower you down onto the sand. He’s thankful you’ve learned your lesson, as the last time he did this you weren’t wearing sandals and burned your feet on the sand. He bends to let you pluck the wide brimmed hat from his head and you place it on your own as you walk to the trunk to fetch a blanket. Dancing, not walking, he thinks. The way you walk is more like dancing. You grab a blanket from the trunk and sit with him until it’s night. You sit with him close enough to reach out and touch, but not quite. It’s in these moments you can close your eyes and perfectly imagine you’re back in your studio apartment with him, listening to the record player and sharing a bottle of wine, thinking about the narrowly avoided apocalypse and job hunting for him. You can close your eyes and imagine inviting his siblings over to crowd your apartment for a loud night of laughing and take out. You can hold his hand and think of how very little space the two of you took up in the world and how comforting it felt. 

When you open your eyes again it’s dark. Perfect. Night falls quickly in the desert. You look over to see Klaus equally as relaxed, an easy smile painted across his entire face, worry lines smoothed away.  He hums a song you recognize.

“Sweet Jane? Don’t you think that’s a little too ‘Mickey and Mallory’ for us?”

He hums a little more of the song before he answers.

“I was just thinking if we mixed blood in a wedding ceremony our paramours would leave us alone,” there’s a hint of something dark in his eyes, “Now get on the hood.”

It’s the way that he says it, low and commanding, that has you jumping up onto the hood of the car and eagerly arranging yourself in a provocative pose, legs splayed and leaning on your arms to arch you back a little, just to entice him even more. That’s all part of the dance, and here more often than not he leads. He commands and positions you the way he likes it and rewards you in kind. He actually looks a bit like a god figure or a superhero the way he saunters over to you in the dark and crawls above you onto the hood, sandal clad feet standing on the grill so he has more leverage for what he has in mind. 

“Now, are you ready for Daddy?

You have to snort at that.

“Daddy? If anyone is daddy here, it’s me babe.”

He grips your bare thigh, just above the knee, then gives it a little warning slap. Not hard, just a little more than nothing.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to call yourself anything besides what I feel like calling you, doctor.”

Any retort to that comment, which honestly stung a little, died on your tongue when a low growl rumbles from his throat and his mouth connects with your stomach, biting at the cloth of your tank top and the skin underneath. You sink back down and stare at the stars, whimpering as you count them and let Klaus tease you as he undresses you. 

“If you were the prophet I’d be entirely devoted to you,” He says as he pulls your shorts down your legs, “I’d follow you everywhere on Earth, I’d do anything you asked of me.”

“Don’t you already?” you laugh.

“I do,” He confirms, “I do, I do, I do” and punctuates each confirmation with a little nip at the inside of your thigh, the same one he had just slapped. The beard he’s been growing out tickles as you squirm beneath him, hands roaming wherever they wish but solidly keeping you in place for him. You think back on your first time with him, how eager he’d been to please, how you wanted to be the one he was pleasing, and how far you’ve come together. His fingers wind up your legs like ivy on an old statue and pause at your underwear, teasing for a moment, before pulling them aside and plunging two fingers into you without warning. He pushes them in deep, scissoring them back and forth a few times, before pulling them back out, and sucking on them. If youre moaning or swearing, you can't hear yourself. An appetizer for a meal, or something equivalent of that. The delighted moan that echoes from his throat as he sucks you from his fingers sends shivers up your spine, just knowing you're in for it tonight. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you dare to meet his eyes, dark and stormy and hungry for you. He has the audacity to give you his sweetest smile before roughly pulling your underwear away from your body and heavily dropping his knee onto the car hood between your own. Klaus himself is intoxicating, you didn't need drugs or alcohol. It was so easy for him to consume your senses, and you readily let him. And when he finally kisses you, you feel yourself drowning. Really truly drowning. The way his tongue dances with your own has you gripping his shoulders like hes the last rock before a riptide pulling you under. It takes him no time at all to have his pants undone and to be grinding himself against you. This is a glimpse of the Klaus of 2019, humping against you and gently whimpering into your mouth. But quickly he pushes that away, lining himself up with you and pulling back enough from you to make eye contact as he pushes himself in. No matter how domineering he could be in the 60s with you, he makes sure to look at you, to ask those silent questions, to be granted that permission to absolutely take over you.With each thrust, long and deep, punctuated with a needy moan, he takes a little more of you. And you willingly let him, and give him everything you can. 

You probably look like one of those renaissance paintings beneath him, as he thrusts hard deep fast, your breasts exposed like all of the biblical women, your body contorted on the hood of the car, like one of those angels in anguish. There was no where for your hands to find purchase that wasn't Klaus, so your hands are far up behind you, palms planted on the windshield to give yourself a better angle, a better arch of your back for Klaus to wrap his arms firmly around you, so he could kiss your chest and the long expanse of your neck and shoulders while he kept his pace. He held you as lose as possible, and for a moment you imagine its just him. You as nothing but an extension of himself, your pleasure mixing and becoming his pleasure. When he got like this, its easy to imagine he didn't have many lovers before you that cared that much about his pleasure. Sure they probably thought he was a fun time, as that was a given, but it was probably rare someone actually cared about what he was feeling. You like that he trusts you with this bare part of himself. No, you love it. You love-

A deep moan from his mouth vibrates against your breast, you feel it even more than you hear it, and it brings you back to where you are now, looking down at his lust filled, indulgent expression. 

“Keep looking at me,” he commands, thrusting harder, making you almost squeak at the angel he's hitting, “It's just me, and you, and the coyotes out here.”

Your hands scramble to grab the sides of his face as you start to move your hips to fuck back against his thrusts, eager to come for him while hes watching you. Any attempt to praise him comes out as stuttered moans and fragments of words, but there's a devilish smile on his face that tells you he knows what you're saying. 

He pulls one arm from under you, slams it on the car below right next to your head, and goes in for the kill. He’s merciless in his thrusts as he kisses and nips at your fingers that he can reach. He doesnt guide you but throws you off of the cliff into bliss, a scream parting from your lips as he refuses to slow his pace. This more dominant and possessive Klaus is wild, selfish in a beautiful way. In his face you see indulgence personified, a modern Dionysus filling each urge that swept over you. He doesn't let you calm down, doesn't let you catch your breath, overstimulating you as he reaches his own release. He comes equally as loudly, with a shout of your name and “oh, lover” tumbling from his lips before he stills, and captures your lips on his own. 

He kisses you slowly, like he's drinking in the taste of you, holding you still, feeling your skin melt with his. It's hard to tell where he ends and you begin, but you prefer it this way. It's just the two of you in the desert. Just the two of you in the world. There's plenty of water in the canteen, and after a drink to refresh you, you'll be tearing at each other again, just far enough off the road no one will see you. He pulls out of you with a hiss, like it hurts him not to be inside of you, and you find yourself involuntarily whining at the loss as well. He grabs the canteen and returns to put it to your lips, then his own, then you sit and talk of nothing and everything sweet, needlessly flirting and preening each others egos with loving words until you're both ready to go again. It continues like this until one of you falls asleep on the other. This is the desert routine. 

When you wake around sunrise, covered in bruises and hickies, hair tangled to hell, you're wrapped in the blanket from the trunk, Klaus’ shirt used as your pillow. He’s just outside, naked as you are, greeting the dawn. Something about his posture beckons you to join him, and on shaking legs you pull yourself from the car, unsteadily stepping until you can wrap your arms around his torso, his hand reaching to grab for you and sliding over your shoulders. He repositions you so you stand together, not with you behind him. The way its supposed to be. And then the moment the sun is fully in the sky, he greets it by crowing like a rooster. Loudly, freely. You join in.

[thatrosewoodwriter]

rwch gang clothing styles

☞ characters: lottie pumpkin, ellie wolf, jamie volk, anastacia alcroft, saskia san martin, binah fae, micky tompkins, lola tompkins, percy butter

☞ warnings: none

☞ notes: i got carried away

---------------------------------------------------

▻ girl dresses like a princess

▻ i don’t take criticism

▻ she has low-heeled shoes for every outfit

▻ s k i r t s

▻ and  t i g h t s 

▻ she doesn’t wear very much makeup, honestly

▻ she rarely wears dark colours

▻ her wardrobe is full of pink and white

▻ we all know this girl is a literal emo

▻ black everything

▻ lottie thinks she owns 10 pairs of the same boots

▻ but ellie knows they’re different

▻ lots of band t-shirts but we all knew that

▻ i’m not saying she owns fishnet, but i’m also not not saying that

▻ she never shows shoulder

▻ it’s scandalous

▻ yet she owns shorts

▻ lots of them

▻ man’s literally wore a black t-shirt and jeans to a ball in pip

▻ he’s a casual kid

▻ he has the best gym fashion though

▻ even disgusting and sweaty, he’s hot

▻ unless you knew who he was, you’d never find him in a crowd

▻ good luck

▻ trainers (sneakers) are his every day shoe

▻ but ever since ellie introduced him to doc marten’s, he’s been wanting a pair of boots

▻ but he will look like he’s part of the men in black when he wears a suit

▻ always dresses like she’s on a red carpet

▻ does not care about stares

▻ even if she’s worn something most people consider casual

▻ her makeup will say otherwise

▻ she always wears a red lip

▻ a l w a y s

▻ heels at all times, too

▻ usually wears skirts with tights

▻ but if she’s actually doing something, it’ll be some pants

▻ also another chill gal

▻ cares less than ani does

▻ but ani wants to match

▻ and if saskia doesn’t look good enough, ani will pick her outfits for her

▻ saskia always goes for practical over aesthetic

▻ ani just makes it look aesthetic

▻ but this girl absolutely has all the brands because of ani

▻ oh lord, please tell him he can’t dress like hamilton every day of his life

▻ he also dresses kinda fancy

▻ he’ll look casual at first glance

▻ but then he’ll do this thing where you compliment his shoes

▻ and he’ll tell you where he got them, how much they were, what they’re made of and what brand

▻ it’s gucci, we all know this, his parents are hollywood actors, come on

▻ this is a man who is not afraid to wear feminine items of clothing

▻ bring on the frills

▻ jumpers and sweaters

▻ she loves jumpers and sweaters

▻ an avid shirt-tucker

▻ will do the thing where you wear a jumper or sweater with white or black shorts and tuck the top in

▻ then pull it out slightly to make it look more relaxed

▻ folds her socks down

▻ usually wears trainers or boots

▻ pastels and white

▻ skirts and flowy shirts

▻ it’s so cute

▻ sometimes it hurts to look at her in the sun

▻ her clothing is so bright it reflects light

▻ always has a small backpack to keep sweets in

▻ sandals are her favourite shoes

▻ though does get concerned how many stains her clothes will get

▻ micky and suspenders

▻ that’s all

▻ he probably likes turtlenecks and knee-length shorts

▻ a fellow mid-shin sock wearer

▻ will probably have yellow and white clothes for the most part

▻ wears loafers or boat shoes, i don’t make the rules

▻ always makes sure he has pockets to store sweets

▻ percy and suspenders

▻ yes please

▻ button up shirts and boots

▻ percy is possibly one of the most fashionable of the rwch gang

▻ even ani can admit he’s got style

▻ for someone who doesn’t like attention

▻ he sure dresses well

▻ button up shirts, long black pants, boots and suspenders

▻ dark academia  w h o

[crownofrats]

done! Goddamn the last one was…only a year ago. Damn. Anyways, here’s hc time! Roman: - he/they - a body like a Disney prince - most of his bite scars are from Remus…their brother is a lot to handle okay? - the rest are from various adventures in the imagination - his hair is inspired by httyd! Particularly Astrid! - fancy sword man hehehe Patton: - He/him - the strongest side, physically - freckles! - yes he wears socks and sandals leave him alone - his pockets are full of candy and rubber bands - the bandaid are for all the booboos….he clumsy - he has the worst vision of all the sides Virgil: - He/(she/they) - yes he uses most pronouns technically, but is often to shy to say anything about what she prefers - they are the only who kept the hair dye - Sans undertale eyes - a little underweight….he’s fineee - also horrendous posture Logan: - He/him - technically has okay eyesight - eats way to much crofters(by his estimates) - has The Elements by Tom Lehrer memorized - his movements are weirdly jerky, like a robots - uses the most hair gel of anyone Janus - any pronouns - hisses when he’s angry - the snake eye is blind, except it can see heat - his tongue is forked and he DEFINITELY has a hemipenis(leave me alone) - always has a cowlick, terrible hat head - the scales are cold to the touch, but are pretty sensitive - he can unhinge his jaw completely - sleeps a ton, a metric shit ton Remus: - he/it - he has way too many scars to be healthy - the body of a….Disney villain? - idk how to describe it but pudgy boi - it lost its legs as a little kid, not an accident…exactly - He also has little freckles and spots that only appear in the dark, because they glow. His scars also glow. And the spots that glow release a toxic sulfur compound that both smells bad and contains heat! - it’s hair is longer than Roman’s, but it’s way more matted and fluffier

[haikyuu-dream]

first date | tsukishima kei X reader

my love for this boy will never die, this salty piece of anxiety was my first haikyuu!! crush and i love him, a lot... so have this scenario as my first writing, hope you enjoy :3

- admin sun

word count- 1,845 

This shouldn’t be so complicated. 

You’ve spent countless hours together before, you’ve stayed late together when it was his turn to close the gym and had help him practice sometimes, you even know what his favorite food is! 

If only the excited beat of your heart could understand reasons. As you stare at yourself in the mirror a loud sigh exhales through your lips and once again you discard another piece of clothing, throwing it above the bed, atop the growing pile that you’ve already rejected. If only you didn’t feel such a fool, maybe everything would be easier. But you can’t calm yourself, and your insides are rumbling in expectation.  then your mind wanders towards the last week when all of this begun.

You are still putting away the net when you hear hurried steps walking right outside the gym, it takes you aback cause by this time you’d expect for everyone to be gone already, even Kageyama and Hinata had said their goodbyes and God knows you had to kick them out as per usual. So who is it outside? You leave what you’re doing to see who’s outside when a feminine voice reaches to your ears.

“Tsukishima-kun!” You freeze in place, so it’s Tsukishima who’s outside, but why? He never spares a second unless is crucial, and always  tells off Hinata whenever he tries to make him stay longer. So, perhaps he was waiting for the girl outside? Your heart clenches uncomfortably at the thought but it’s not like you’d be surprised, he has always been popular after all. 

You chide yourself for making a whole movie in your head  and decide to try to ignore whatever is happening outside even though  every nerve in your body seems fully aware of Tsukishima’s answer. 

“Oh, it’s you”.

You can only wonder who the hell is ‘you’. 

“Is the volleyball club practicing late again?” asks the feminine voice, and you try to put a face on her voice  in vain. You don’t seem to recognize her and it’s probably for the best, cause your already hyperactive imagination doesn’t need any more fuel. 

“Not really, I just forgot my keys”. 

You try to catch any sense of excitement or nervousness in Tsukishima’s voice, anything that tells you that this seemingly harmless conversation means anything else to him, and you feel so ashamed that you end up sighing. How pathetic. 

“Oh, that’s great,” you hear her say, “Well, I guess it’s not great for you, but it’s good for me since I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a while”.

Oh no.

Great, just great, it’s not enough that you’ve been crushing on Tsukishima for over two years now, but now you gotta listen the progress of his romantic life. You can already see the next weeks unraveling in front of you; it’s not like this is the first time you’d heard that Tsukishima went on a date, mostly because Yamaguchi pities you too much to keep you in the dark knowing how you have strong feelings for his friend. 

He’s always kind and always assures you that Tsukishima didn’t seem to like his date that much, but you can’t help but wonder if the next one will be the chosen one. Still, you have no one else to blame for your suffering but you, since you’re too coward to ask him out yourself. And now once again, you’ll dedicate yourself to hope things don’t move further with the mysterious girl and Tsukishima. 

“What is it?” His voice brings you back from your cavilations and you can’t help but get a little closer to the semi open window.

“Well, since we seem to bump into each other often when we leave our clubs so, I was wondering if maybe… you’d like to go out with me sometime?”

“Ah.”

“Sorry if I am being too blunt! I just, I like you a lot, Tsukishima-kun!”

You’re clenching your fists so hard in expectation that you don’t even realize that you’re hurting yourself. You don’t even know how you got so close to the window, but when you realize you’ve crashed against the bucket filled with water to mop the floor and causing for its contents to spill all over your feet. 

“Goddamnit!” You let out, the events outside momentarily forgotten.

“What was that?” Asks the girl outside as you curse, the feeling of your wet socks making you tremble.

You hear Tsukishima mockingly emit a short laugh, “That sounded like my clumsy manager, in fact  I gotta make sure she didn’t do any property damage”.  

You’re too busy taking off your shoes when you hear him add.

“Sorry, I’m not really interested in dating right now”.

You merely have a second to exhale in relief when Tsukishima’s opening the gate to properly laugh at you at you, and when he closes after himself the sound of steps walking away indicate that the other girl is leaving. 

“Great job, manager-san.” His lips are twitching upwards, not interested in conceiving his mocking smile.

You’re embarrassment is too much and you can feel your face burn in a probably very visible blush. 

“Ha ha”. Is all you can manage to answer as you walk towards the mop with as much dignity as you can with your soaked feet.

“I tripped okay”. You add, as his gaze stares intently into you.

“Really? I thought you were too hot and wanted to freshen up”. 

“Ahh” you sigh, “ You got me there, saw right through me”. 

He chuckles, and you have to look away so that he doesn’t notice that he’s the main reason from your embarrassment and not the recent incident. 

“Don’t be embarrassed manager-san, everybody makes mistakes”.

“I’m not embarrassed!” You blatantly lie trying to look defiant.

“Then why are you getting red?” He walks closer towards you and your heartbeat jumps excitedly in your chest. This is perfect, just the perfect humiliation in front of your crush, like Tsukishima didn’t manage to perfectly tease you without any aid.

“Stop it! Don’t you have another girl to reject or something?”

This time it’s Tsukishima’s turn to turn red, even if in the slightless, but it’s enough to burn the tip of his ears, he takes his hand to rub the back of his neck and averts his gaze from yours. 

“Now who’s blushing”. You taunt him back as you begin to mop the puddle on the floor. 

“Don’t you know you shouldn't spy on other people conversations?”

“I wasn’t spying! I was just doing my job!”

Tsukishima’s sly grin returns to his lips as he sees your nervousness. “Really? It seems to me that you were spying on me”.

“You wish.”

“Mmm, I didn’t know you were so interested in  whom I date”.

You can feel yourself choke on your words, your mouth gaping trying to come with anything that doesn’t make you seem hopelessly in love with the boy in front of you.

“I couldn’t care less about who you decide to date! Go back to that girl for all I care!”

“Oh, so you were listening”. There’s too much joy in his voice for your liking, like he actually enjoys seeing you all flustered. 

“I didn’t meant to, it’s not my fault she decided to confess right outside the gym!”

“True, next time I’ll tell her to talk to me when you’re not around”.

Your expression goes awry for a second, but you turn around to cover yourself. How dumb, you really just wanna leave and stop thinking about him and about how much you like him and how much you hate yourself for not being able to tell him the truth.

“Don’t look so jealous (Y/N)-san”. He coos as he places his large hand atop your shoulder. “I can ask you out if you really can’t handle it”. 

You freeze for a second, even as as joke it’s enough to  make your heart jump inside your chest, and if you weren’t so busy trying to calm yourself down maybe you’d catch on the rising blush on Tsukishima’s neck. 

“Really, I can’t wait then”. You answer, excitement hiding behind the sarcasm.

“Then let’s have that date soon, so you don’t get any more jealous”. 

“Yes please, my heart can barely handle it.” You heart in deed can barely handle it, like, why are you making things so complicated. Why couldn’t you just be brave like that girl from before.

Tsukishima takes the mop from your hands while averting his gaze to the side, “Let’s do it this Saturday”. 

You still haven’t decide what to wear when you reread the text Tsukishima sent you last night, just before midnight. 

“This is a real date, just so you know”

Tsukishima checks the watch for the twelfth time in a minute, and he feels himself grow embarrassed as he remembers that the only reason he decided to wear a watch was because that time in new year when you complimented Akiteru’s gift, saying that the watched looked good on him.

He spots you among the crowd getting out of the train, as you look around trying to find him he can feel his cheeks burn as your image settes in his mind, of course he thinks you’re pretty, but you look just too much for him to correctly process, so he tries to calm himself before finally walking towards you. 

“Boo”. He whispers behind you, chuckling at your scared reaction. 

“Tsukishima! I thought you were a perv! I was about to punch you in the stomach.”

“So now I’m a pervert, huh?” 

You stick your tongue at him, and he smiles, ever so slightly, but still visible enough for you to smile back at him, and he feels his heart drop at the sight. 

He clears his throat, trying to avoid feeling so abashed, his eyes travel downwards landing on your feet, a new grin appearing on his face.

“So, did you choose to wear sandals in case that you trip yourself over another bucket filled to the brim?” He teasingly asks as you walk towards the movies.

“Nevermind, date is over, I can’t deal with you, I lost my interest” You say as you start moving towards the movies.

His hand reaches the top of your head and you can hear the tease in his voice. “Too late, you already said yes and I’m still interested, so let’s go”.

You smile softly, his touch making your insides ignite, still, you’re not about to let him get away so easily.

“Oh, well, I guess I’ll honor you with my presence since I’ve really been waiting to see this movie.”

“How frivolous, so you’re only using me for my tickets.”

“Of course I am, didn’t you know already? I only date multimillionaires and philanthropists.”

He snickers, a different snicker form his usual one, one that is softer and that makes you feel warm. 

“Poor me, I’m only a millionaire, not a multimillionaire, so I guess we’re not meant for eachother.”

“Exactly, that’s why I’ll buy the popcorn”.

“Fine by me then.” 

[ariadnekurosaki]

Love Lives, and I Will Defend Her

Prompt: Day 4, Crossing Blades, Crossing Hearts

Pairing: Kurosaki Ichigo/Kuchiki Rukia

Rating: T

Read on AO3.

Summary:  She screamed as if the very heart of her was being torn out, and Ichigo leapt to her side as the rain poured down. I’m still a little salty about one specific part of Fade to Black - when Rukia screams and not one person helps her - so I wrote this. The first several paragraphs align with and contain dialogue from the movie. The title comes from The Cruxshadows' "Defender".

Love Lives, and I Will Defend Her

“This time, Rukia, I’m sharing my powers with you!” Ichigo shouted. The tattered robes of his bankai swirled around him while pale blue reiatsu filled the air. He grasped Zangetsu in both hands and ran forward. Rukia – melded with the two strange beings who’d possessed her – howled and leapt toward him, purple-black power radiating outward in tattered swirls around her. “Come back to us, Rukia!” Come back to me.

His blade pierced her with a squelch and scrape of bone on metal, then kept going, impaling her and sending blood spraying everywhere.

For ten horrifying seconds nothing happened and Ichigo thought he’d killed her. But Zangetsu murmured reassurance in his mind and power exploded between them. His reiatsu spilled into her and shoved outward, pushing out the souls of the brother and sister who’d taken over her body. The strange white garb Rukia was wearing shredded to nothing, revealing a shihakusho, and her hair darkened. 

Without meaning to, Ichigo brought them both to a kneeling position on the ground, one arm holding her tightly around the shoulders while the other kept ahold of his blade. Rukia stirred underneath his arm and he reluctantly let go, a hand running through her hair as Rukia straightened up.

“Ichigo…”

His eyes softened as they looked into hers. “Hi,” he said softly. Her violet eyes showed the truth: she remembered him. Rukia was back. The tightness in Ichigo’s chest eased.

They both looked at the two spirits lying on the ground not far away. “Go on and help them,” he said, when Rukia looked at him again.

She ran on sandaled feet across the cracked and barren ground. Ichigo kept his zanpakuto at the ready, but Renji and Byakuya seemed content to watch and the two souls – the brother and sister who’d kidnapped yet clearly cared for Rukia – were dying.

He heard her name them, heard her call them Homura and Shizuku, and thought to himself that they were good names. Heard Urahara explain that they’d tried so hard to get back to Rukia after sacrificing themselves for her. And then they died – again. Ichigo stood silent, head bowed as the first raindrops started to fall.

Rukia, though – Rukia raised her head and screamed as if her very heart was being torn from her.

Before it was a conscious thought Ichigo ran forward, dropping Zangetsu on the ground only when he reached Rukia’s side. He barely noticed when Urahara deftly stepped out of his way. His arms slid around her and he pulled her close, body covering hers protectively and shielding her from the worst of the sudden downpour. Ichigo’s hand slid through her already-soaked wet hair and down her back, rubbing gently while she sobbed into his chest. No one else moved; Ichigo wasn’t even sure if their memories had returned yet.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ve got you, Rukia.” Rukia just buried her head deeper into his chest and Ichigo pulled her closer. They sat in the cold rain until she started to shiver despite the warmth Ichigo radiated. He wasn’t much better: his shihakusho was completely soaked through and his hair hung limp around his head, dripping rivulets of water into his eyes.

Movement registered in his peripheral vision and he looked up: Urahara and Renji were wrapping the bodies of Homura and Shizuku in dark fabric, and members of the Fourth Division had stretchers ready to carry them away. He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t dissolved – but Ichigo had other things to worry about. Like Rukia, who was shivering ever more violently in his arms.

He dropped out of bankai and fastened Zangetsu onto his back. Then he slid one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders and rose to his feet. Rukia didn’t even seem to notice. Ichigo looked over at Byakuya, who was standing in the same position as he had been a few minutes ago despite the pouring rain.

“The Fourth Division relief station will still be overrun, if it has not been destroyed. You may bring her to the manor,” the Sixth Division captain said calmly.

Ichigo nodded briefly and disappeared a second after Byakuya did. It was harder to use flash-step after exerting so much power over the past few days, and Ichigo stumbled to a stop outside of the Kuchiki Manor. The guards had the gates open already and one nodded briefly in greeting while the other stepped aside to allow him to walk through. Ichigo stepped inside, grimacing as his sopping wet sandals and socks squelched on the wooden floors and he dripped water everywhere.

“Lady Rukia!” a young woman in a simple pink kimono gasped as she came around the corner. She had a badge with the Kuchiki crest on the left side of the kimono, just below her shoulder.

Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief and adjusted his hold on Rukia. “Can you show me to her rooms, or…somewhere she can lie down? Rukia’s had a bad shock and needs a hot bath and a change of clothes, right away.”

“Y-yes of course, come this way, kyaku-sama.” The young woman hurried forward and Ichigo followed her through a series of rooms separated by ornate sliding screens, dripping water all the way.

Finally, they reached what was apparently Rukia’s room; Ichigo spared a smile for the chappy plushie on a shelf – a dead giveaway that they were in her space.

The servant nervously introduced herself as Miura Yuina and disappeared into a washroom through yet another screen. After a minute Ichigo heard the sound of running water. He looked down at Rukia, who was resting her head against his chest. “Rukia?”

She stirred and opened her eyes, which were swollen and reddened from crying.

“Can you stand?” Ichigo asked. “You’re in your rooms in the Kuchiki manor and Miura-san is running a hot bath for you.”

“I think so.” Rukia’s voice was rough and barely above a whisper. Ichigo nodded, sending water showering down on them both, but bent and let Rukia’s feet touch the ground before letting go of her legs. He straightened back up but kept one hand on her forearm, stabilizing her, as she stood. “How...?”

“I used flash-step to get us both back from the Twelfth,” Ichigo explained. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Ichigo shook his head briefly. “Everything else can wait. You need to get warm and dry or you’ll get sick.” He pushed a soaked strand of hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear.

Yuina came back into the room and smiled nervously at Rukia. “Lady Rukia, your bath is ready. Please allow me to help you.”

Rukia stepped away from Ichigo and allowed herself to be ushered into the washroom. Before the door closed, Ichigo called to Yuina, “Please put a cold cloth on her eyes as well, Miura-san.”

Ichigo could hear the slap of wet cloth hitting the ground from beyond the door and the low splashes of a body sinking into bath water. Then: “I’ll return in a moment, Lady Rukia.” The washroom door opened and shut once more.

“Kyaku-sama, please allow me to escort you to a guest room so that you can change into dry clothes,” Yuina said. She eyed the puddles of water Ichigo had left on the ground with apparent disfavor.

Ichigo grimaced. “It’s Kurosaki Ichigo. And yeah, that would be great, thanks.” He cast a worried glance toward the door Yuina had exited but followed her halfway down the hallway into a much more spartan space. “Sorry about the mess.”

“It is no trouble. I will have dry clothing brought to you,” Yuina offered. “Please, feel free to bathe and make yourself comfortable.”

Ichigo nodded his thanks and when she slid the door shut behind herself, he stepped into the washroom. Rukia had cut him up in more than one place while she was possessed by those kids, and he grimaced as his sopping wet shihakusho stuck to the open wound on his arm. The sandals and tabi socks were a loss – the sandals were already coming apart – but he piled the rest to one side.

He bathed quickly and when he stepped back into the guest room two ensembles were waiting for him, as was an unsigned note encouraging him to rest. The first outfit was a simple pair of striped blue and white jinbei, while the second was a clean set of shihakusho. Thankfully, there was also a roll of bandaging.

Feeling much better once he’d bandaged his arm and dressed in the jinbei, Ichigo turned to the futon that had been laid out for him. It was only just getting dark outside but suddenly he was so exhausted that he could have fallen asleep standing up. He wanted to check on Rukia, but – she needed to rest.

He laid down on the futon and searched for her spirit ribbon the way he had earlier in the day. This close, he sensed her without any assistance, and followed the red ribbon in his mind to her bedroom. The ribbon was much more solid, Ichigo noticed. There was something else there as well – a red thread running alongside the ribbon and connecting them.

Rukia was also on a futon, wrapped in many blankets. This time Ichigo could tell that, while she wasn’t entirely at peace, she had cried herself out for the time being and was falling asleep. He contented himself with that and fell asleep holding onto the ribbon – and the thread – in his mind.

 Ichigo bolted awake in the middle of the night; the ribbon and thread were vibrating anguish and fear in equal measure. He scrambled from the futon and slid the door of his guest room open. The manor was dead silent, and for a moment Ichigo thought he’d imagined it, but the ribbon seemed to tug at him.

There was no one else in the hallway, and he padded toward Rukia’s room in bare feet. “Rukia?” he asked in a soft whisper when he reached her door. There was no response. Feeling foolish, Ichigo turned to go back to his rooms before another one of those blood-freezing screams echoed through the thin paper doorway. He shoved the doorway open without another word and found Rukia in the darkness, blankets twisted around her body.

Ichigo slid the door shut behind him. “Rukia,” he called again, and knelt by her side. When she groaned in her sleep but still didn’t wake, Ichigo’s hand found her shoulder. He’d never been very good at hiding his reiatsu or controlling it except through Zangetsu, but instinctively he let it flow over Rukia like a blanket.

Slowly and by degrees, Rukia’s body slackened into true sleep. Her hands unclenched from around the blankets and the lines of stress between her eyebrows smoothed away. Ichigo gently untangled her from the blankets and smoothed them back over her. He lightly pressed his wrist to her forehead; she wasn’t feverish, but her forehead was damp with sweat.

Ichigo stood and found a cloth in the washroom. He dampened it with cold water and knelt back down to bathe Rukia’s forehead.

The door slid open again; Ichigo looked up as the blue light of kido illuminated Byakuya in the doorway.

“Kurosaki Ichigo. What are you doing in my sister’s room?”

“She was having a night terror or something. Kinda surprised no one else came running – she screamed loud enough.” Ichigo kept his voice low.

“I did not hear her scream. I felt your reiatsu spike.”

“It seemed to comfort her,” Ichigo admitted. He folded the washcloth and rested it on Rukia’s forehead, then stood.

Byakuya was still staring at him. But all he said was, “I see.”

Ichigo looked back at Rukia one more time and walked toward the doorway. Byakuya stepped aside to let him pass. “Kurosaki,” he said when the younger man was halfway toward his room.

He stopped and turned in Byakuya’s direction. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for saving my sister. Again.”

Ichigo rubbed the back of his head. “Sure, no problem,” he said uneasily. Then he actually looked at Byakuya. “I wasn’t lying when I said that I would pass through even one hundred million blades for her.”

The hallway was silent for a moment. “Then for her sake, I hope your blade will always block them.” Byakuya turned and walked back toward his own rooms.

“It will,” Ichigo said into the darkness. There was an answering echo of certainty from Zangetsu and further down, from the hollow. “It will.”

[allie-and-her-fandoms]

The Way To Her Heart

Author's Notes: Hey guys! I am back with a new fic, starring my new favorite ship, Obamitsu from KnY. This fics was inspired by the Chapter 124's cover and the third prompt for @obamitsu-week, which was "first date". Enjoy (or endure)!

---

As the sun blessed the land for another day, one of them found its way to Mitsuri’s bedroom, caressing her cheek. The moment she felt the warmth of Amaterasu, the newly assigned Love Pillar sprang out of her futon, ready for another day, when her Kasugai crow stopped by the window, fidgeting.

“There have been no demon attacks reported in your district. After you give the report, you are free to do whatever you desire.” She mumbled, as Mitsuri was listening to her closely and cheered at the news. She then rushed to the kitchen to get some fruits to give her feathered comrade. She knew that crows mostly prefered frogs, insects, or mice, but hers always prefered some fruity sweetness.

After she gave her crow the sweet treats, she changed from her yukata into her Demon Slayer uniform, followed by her white haori, her emerald striped socks and her brown and rose sandals. She then hurried to her kitchen, where she made herself a stack of 20 pancakes covered in honey and butter, accompanied by a nice cup of black tea.

Following the breakfast, she rushed towards the Demon Slayers’ headquarters, where she gave her report concerning the events that took place last night. After Oyakata-sama got the information, he told Mitsuri she was free to go, and she bowed in front of him, praying for his health.

---

By the time she left the headquarters, it was almost noon, and her stomach had started rumbling violently. But as she was leaving the perimeter of their base, her eyes caught the glimpse of a black and white striped haori.

“Iguro-san!” She exclaimed towards the petite figure wearing the haori, as he stopped in his tracks and turned his face towards the rose and emerald-haired girl.

“Hello, Kanroji.” the Serpent Pillar replied, the gold and turquoise of his eyes meeting the jade of hers, accompanied by the ruby of his albino snake.

“Hello, Iguro-san.” She replied, as she took notice of the snake resting on Obanai’s shoulders. “Hello to you too, Kaburamaru-kun!” She beamed, as she pet the snake with two fingers on the top of his head, the reptile happily complying. “Have you come to give your report as well?”

“Yes, I have. Once it is done, I am free for the rest of the day.” Obanai responded, keeping his eyes on Mitsuri.

“I am free today as well. I can wait until you are done,” she stated.

“Are you sure you want to wait? If you have anything else to do…”

“I’m sure. Maybe we can talk more after that?” Mitsuri asked the man in front of her, her eyes sparkling.

“I would enjoy that. I’ll finish this soon,” was the reply that she met as Obanai walked towards the entrance of the mansion. In the meantime, Mitsuri would take a sit on one of the wooden benches nearby.

---

(10 minutes later)

After he was done with his own report, Obanai stepped outside of the estate and joined Mitsuri shortly after. But before either of them could open their mouths, the loud growl of Mitsuri’s stomach consumed the silence between them.

So embarrassing! a tiny voice shrilled in the Love Pillar’s head, blood painting her face red. Why did this have to happen now?! What does — Mitsuri’s train of thought halted at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, startling her.

“Kanroji… It is almost noon. Have you eaten anything yet?”

“Eh? Umm… Yes. I had breakfast a few hours ago. But indeed, it is lunchtime for me.” Mitsuri mumbled, her fingers busy playing with the hem of her skirt.

“I see. I know a nice restaurant nearby. Maybe we could go there?” Obanai suggested, waiting for Mitsuri’s response.

“Y-Yes, of course!” she squealed, following the lead of her fellow Pillar.

---

(at the restaurant)

“I’ll have some kaki-age tempura and some kara-age (fried chicken), please.” Mitsuri ordered after checking out the menu.

“A cup of green tea, please.” Obanai told the chef, as he took their orders.

“Eh? Aren’t you gonna eat anything, Iguro-san?” Mitsuri wondered in shock.

“I am not hungry.” he plainly responded.

“Are you sure?”

“I am,” Obanai affirmed. “Believe me.” he added, before the chef brought the food and the tea for the two Pillars.

---

5 minutes after the food was served, Mitsuri’s plates were already empty. She would’ve wanted to order more, but she wasn’t all by herself this time, and she didn’t want the man next to her to utter bad words about her; she was determined to restrain herself. However, her stomach refused to listen to reason and it started rumbling once again, causing Obanai and Kaburamaru to look worryingly at her. She let her head down and all she wanted was to hide in a hole.

“Kanroji…” he murmured her name, hints of worry covering the visible part of his face. Mitsuri refused to look at his face, and he let out a soft sigh. “Excuse me. I’d like some kaki-age tempura and some kara-age, please.” he asked the chef, who nodded silently. His mismatched eyes then moved their focus on the girl next to him, who was trying to avoid his look.

“Kanroji, if you are that hungry, you should not restrain yourself. You are a Pillar, after all; you must take care of yourself.” he clarified, as he watched Mitsuri’s head rise a bit. “We are comrades, aren’t we?” he added, his gaze softening.

“Even if I have to eat as much as 3 sumo wrestlers put together?” she questioned Obanai, her voice whispered. She could hear him chuckle.

“Of course. Eat as much as your heart desires.” the Snake Pillar commented, his scaled friend nodding in agreement.

---

When Mitsuri made the sumo wrestlers comparison, Obanai thought she might exaggerate. She arrived at the 8th serving, happily munching on the fried chicken, as Kaburamaru was staring at her wide-eyed; which was a first for the ivory-scaled serpent. However, Obanai could not help but keep his eyes on her, and listen to her stories.

As she was taking another bite, Mitsuri caught a glimpse of the man next to her and his reptilian friend, who had their eyes on her, but this time, it was different. Whenever someone outside of her family would see her have a meal, they would either watch her in shock, or frown. However, for once, someone would look fondly at her, without judgement.

The next mouthful felt… unique. The taste of the soy sauce, ginger and garlic felt more intense, and the tempura was more delicious. That’s odd. It’s the same meal, made by the same chef. Yet it is more savoury, Mitsuri told herself. Maybe meals shared with someone cherished did indeed taste better. Especially if that certain someone was as understanding and interested in her stories as the raven-haired Pillar next to her and his lovable serpent, who would show amusement whenever she shared shenanigans from her missions, and admiration when she contemplated the Blood Demon Arts of the enemies who found their end when she was around.

---

After their time at the restaurant had finally ended, both Mitsuri and Obanai decided it was time to depart, but not before Mitsuri hugged Obanai and pet Kaburamaru, as they promised that they would come back at the same place the next time they had some free time. They both were thankful for each other’s presence, and if the Gods would allow it, there would be more moments like this.

-----

Thank you for reading!

[bonepranks-a]

anonymous said... Cartoons can’t give us every detail, especially not a pixilated video game! So is there anything about Sans and Papyruses appearances that you find particularly salient in your interpretation? Like how you presume their clothes work or how tall they are!

. OUT              yes!! yes yes yes. let’s talk height first, it’s simpler. my sans, currently, is 5′2″. i’ve been wanting to change that, make him shorter (closer to 5′ or even 4′11″) but every time i think about it i think about the height chart i made a few months back and decide i don’t want to remake it. so anyway, sans is 5′2″ which is like..... actually taller than the average 12 year old so yeah, he needs to be shorter (he’s the same height as frisk to me, and i hc frisk being 10-12). but uh.... i’ll change that later. papyrus??? a giant. he’s 6′7″ which like. isn’t RIDICULOUSLY tall (asgore and toriel are in the 7′+ range) but it’s way taller than even the average tall human man. he’s not the tallest character in game according to sprite size (undyne is taller than him in game) but i see him as being way taller than her. she clocks in just below 6′ i think. probably 5′10ish. so there’s a huge height difference between him and sans which also doesn’t read in-game but i’m such a sucker for it.

             in terms of clothes... sans is pretty self-explanatory. i see his white shirt as being a turtlenck sweater, and he wears a bulky fleece-lined hoodie over it. it gives the appearance of him being cold (which is impossible for a skeleton) while actually providing lots of extra padding, protecting him from injuries. he really is just wearing black basketball shorts, and slippers. that’s not his only outfit though! he has a lot of alternate clothes but the hoodie always stays, and if he’s not wearing the slippers, it’s socks and sandals. you can thank @isoscelesnightmare​ for that one lol. papyrus.... his battle body is definitely a favorite outfit. i think the torso part of it is definitely made of like..... styrofoam or something else similar. it’s shoddily made, definitely molded by hand. everything else? just mismatched clothes. his legs and arms which read as black? he’s basically wearing a leotard. it’s like, a superhero costume. and i have a lot of headcanons surrounding his red scarf that i can talk about another time. his boots are the same boots undyne has. she gave them to him. and his gloves he bought at the shop when they first moved to snowdin because he thought they made him look cool.

              okay what else... let’s talk about their eyes! sans lets his eye-lights show almost all the time (except in those creepy moments). papyrus rarely does. so skeletons really don’t need to. but their eyelights glow a certain color if they’re using healing magic or any type of soul magic. this tracks with sans’ eye glowing blue/yellow etc in the fight. we still never see this from papyrus but i like to think his eye-lights also glow his general color (red) when he’s fighting frisk even though we don’t see that. (also fun unrelated sidenote: gaster’s color is purple. because red + blue.)

              if you strip them both down do only their bones, no clothes, they’re both thinner than they appear. most of sans’ bulk comes from his jacket. however, he is still stocky and yes, ‘big-boned’. also!! sans walks with a slouch. keeping his hands in his pockets sorta keeps him in a hunched over position. papyrus on the other hand has the most rigid backbone ever. 

             also, sans can open his mouth. i know we don’t see this in game, but just.... he can. i don’t care to come up with ways he can talk and eat without opening his mouth, so he does. that being said -- neither of them can change the shape of their mouths/expressions. they’re stuck in normal skeleton positions. they can crease their brows, which contributes to facial expression, but most of how they express emotions through their faces is in their eyes. ever notice how sans’ dialogue sprite sometimes looks more amused than other times? it’s ALL in the eye-lights -- nothing else changes.

           that’s all for now -- i’ll definitely add more if i think of more!! thank you!!

[metatiki]

Cullrian Silliness

Inspired by this article about something silly, I wrote a Cullrian piece about it.

AO3 link (kudos and comments welcome!) 

-------------------------------

What Are Those?

The argument was silly, and they both knew it. But it had been a long day, and Halward had left another of those annoying voicemail messages, and the humidity had spiked to somewhere over 1000% which made the temperature hover somewhere around 'rage demon preferred'. Self-control had frayed for both of them, but it had been Dorian who had snapped first, that much he would grudgingly admit later.

Still, that didn't absolve Cullen from the heinous crime he committed in response the next morning.

It took Dorian a few moments to notice them after he sat down on the couch at a decorous distance suitable for the pre-apology stage following a fight. Once he did, however, he couldn't stop staring until finally he asked, "What. Are. Those."

Cullen glanced down. "My new socks. Do you like them?"

Dorian's face twisted into a grimace. He'd never seen anything quite so ugly, or...well, not to put a fine point on it, straight. "Those are quite likely the most hideous things I have ever seen."

"They're comfortable," Cullen said in an artlessly casual tone which made Dorian's eyes narrow.

"I see." With a frown, Dorian scowled at his new nemeses, trying to put into words why they offended him so very much. "You do recall that Leliana and Josephine are expecting us at their barbecue later?"

"Yup," Cullen said cheerfully. "I won't even have to wear shoes with these on."

"Surely you're not going to wear them there?" Dorian asked, shocked. "The entire neighborhood will be there!"

"Why not?" Cullen asked, giving Dorian a sly sidelong glance. "They're--"

"Comfortable," Dorian groaned. "Yes. You said."  With a delicate shudder, Dorian stood. "I'm going to walk Archie." Which was, in and of itself, a concession, since walking around with the slavering beast of a dog was not usually something he chose to do alone.

"I could do it," Cullen said, beginning to rise himself.

"No. No," Dorian repeated firmly, practically running to where Archie's leash hung from the wall. "No, you stay there, being...comfortable." Maker forbid Cullen went gallivanting about the neighborhood in those...things.

Archie, of course, proved quite amenable to the plan of early walkies. Very quickly, Dorian found himself struggling to keep the beast under suitable control, particularly when he was forced to endure the slobbering kisses of said beast with a not-at-all forced smile which he would vehemently deny should anyone actually ask about it. Thus, he was in quite a different mood when he returned home--still a bit put out, of course, as would anyone with a sense of fashion, but resigned to his fate.

After releasing Archie to flop onto his favorite sun-warmed bed by the main windows of the living room, Dorian frowned as a cursory search revealed no sign of his erstwhile sandal-footed partner. "Cullen?"

"In here," came the answer from the kitchen. "I'm just making the bacon crumbles for the baked beans."

Dorian quickly angled his way to the kitchen, coming to a rest on the opposite side of the island in the middle of the kitchen where Cullen stood working at the skillet of bacon, and gave a little sigh as he took in further details of Cullen's...outfit. "Really?" he asked in that tone as he looked Cullen up and down, or at least as much as he could see above the island. "I don't think Bull meant you to actually use those."

Cullen gave him a cheerful wink. "I like them. Besides, the hat adds a sort of gravitas, don't you think?"

Lips pursed, Dorian tried not to grudgingly smile at the overly large, wobbly Orlesian cooking hat emblazoned with the words Kiss the chef, then let his eyes drop down to the large wrap-around apron with its painted on abs and a large arrow pointing down embedded with the words Kiss chef here. "While normally I appreciate you gallivanting around sans shirt, I do wish you wouldn't wear such... Wait." His eyes suddenly widened. "You're not planning on wearing those to the barbecue, are you?"

With a laugh, Cullen moved the skillet from the hot zone to the side and waited for it to cool a bit before he crumbled it. "I'm fairly sure Bull would get a good laugh out of it."

Dorian buried his face in his hands. "Festis bei umo canavarum."

A crunching sound announced the fate of the bacon as Cullen replied smoothly, "I love you, too. Now are you going to help me with this or not?"

"I'll get the beans," Dorian said with a sigh. Moving to the fridge, he pulled the beans out from where they'd been sitting overnight marinating in their sauces, and brought it over to Cullen. "You're a frightful beast, I hope you realize. I don't know what Josie and Viv will think, seeing you in that ensemble."

Cullen gave a little shrug as he sprinkled the bacon on the beans. "It can't be worse than the time Sera wore plaideweave to her own wedding."

Dorian paused for a moment. "But that fit her," he grudgingly conceded. In truth, Sera had looked absolutely adorable, especially when he'd gotten close enough to see the bees worked into the pattern of the plaid itself.

Picking up the beans, Cullen said, "And I think these fit me."

Dorian rubbed his forehead for a moment. "They fit you, they just look--"

And the words died in his mouth.

It might have been because he couldn't summon up words to describe how utterly ridiculous the hat and apron looked, and would only look moreso paired with a pair of socks designed to look like sandals. It might have been due to that, in some other world and some other place and time.

It this place and time, and in this world, the words flickered and died as Cullen turned around and opened the oven door, bending over and putting the beans inside with one smooth motion before shutting it again. Normally such a sight would simply be a mundane affair, a domestic task blending in without notice with all the other small motions of cooking and mutual domesticity, marked only by a clandestine admiration on the part of Dorian concerning that ass as the muscles drew taut beneath whatever cloth happened to cover them that day.

Normal, however, also included pants. And underwear. Both of which were very much not there at present. Only the hat, the apron, and the sandal socks were there.

Dorian's mouth snapped shut as Cullen turned to face him with a grin. "There. They'll be cooking for a while. What shall we do in the meantime?"

Dorian scowled fiercely at him, even as he rounded the island between them. "You are very dull, and I hate you," he breathed as his hands landed on Cullen's hips.

Cullen's lips spread into a cocky smirk. "I know," he said as his hands traveled up Dorian's arms. "Though if you really don't like something I wear, you're always free to remove them."

"Oh, I plan to do so with great vigor," Dorian growled at him. "After I do what they tell me to do." His lips found Cullen's with a gentle humor befitting the silliness of the conversation, but the tenderness quickly deepened into something far more passionate. As their lips parted, Dorian reached up and grabbed the hat, tossing it onto a nearby counter.

"And the apron?" Cullen asked, a tad breathless.

Dorian let his hand follow the arrow down the apron, grinning as he found Cullen already waiting and eager for another kiss. "That might take a little longer," he suggested, then tugged the apron up as he dropped to his knees.

But then, some kinds of kisses deserved to be done properly.

And, as it turned out, sandal socks provided just enough friction for Cullen to endure even the most rigorous of apologies, despite the slickness of the kitchen tiles.

[houseki-no-suffering]

Words: 3053 Genre: humor, college AU, nerds being nerds and idiots being idiots  Characters: Cinnabar, Phosphophyllite Summary: AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES!

A/N: i’m super sorry this is so late. I had everything ready to post this on time but life got in the way and then nano did too. But here it is, at last! Cinnaphos comedy! Also, of course this is not betaed, who do you take me for

Among all the things they had expected from college, their new roommate barking orders and insults at them wasn’t one of them. Usually, people gave Phos a chance before they started insulting them. Even Cairngorm had conceded them a couple of hours of trial.

Phos would mumble an apology if they weren’t utterly speechless. And terrified. And they would at least try to look apologetic, even if they had no idea what about, but their face was frozen in a petrified frown. The rest of their body was struggling not to let go of the unruly pile of belongings that they had been hoping to drop on the floor of their new room.

“No snoring, no talking in your sleep, don’t overstep here, this part of the room is mine, if I catch you with so much of a hair near my stuff you’re dead. Don’t touch my things: never touch my things.”

Their tried to nod while what they had hoped would be their new friend went on some more house rules. What was the name again? Shi-Ci-Cinnabar? Gosh, Phos would never call them by name until they weren’t certain. Also, they were not quite sure that all of their stuff would fit into the corner that Cinnabar designated as their own side of the room, but there was no way they could just mention it without risking their own head be bitten off.

So they tried to start small. By some miracle, they wiggled one of their hands free, unquestionable proof that they had been a juggler in a past life, and offered it to their roommate.

“So, uhm, my name is-“

“Oh yes, one last thing,” Cinnabar said, sparing half, or better, a quarter of disgusted glance toward Phos’s hand, “Don’t. Talk. To. Me.”

--

When Phos found enough courage in them to ask around about Cinnabar, they had been expecting tales of roommates being murdered under the pale moonlight, not what looked like the description of a very, very selective cat.

A “cutie,” Padparadscha’s words. A cutie that had helped them with calculus, apparently. Which implied a lot of interesting and contradictory inferences. Like the fact that Papda had spent a considerable amount of hours in the company of Cinnabar, that Cinnabar had softened their bark enough to explain things to them, that those things were math, and that Cinnabar had been patient and good enough a teacher to succeed where even Rutile had failed. All without killing Padparadscha or even injuring them a little.

But Padparadscha didn’t count, Phos thought: everybody liked Padparadscha, it didn’t mean anything. So Phos went looking for their horror stories elsewhere.

Now Cinnabar went from “cutie” to “friend,” which sounded even stranger because it implied an even longer period of interaction and shared space. They were quite sure that Diamond even added the words “for years” next to “friend.”

Of course, Dia had a nice word for everyone, but by the time Bort seconded their opinion, adding tales about the one time they baked German sweets for Christmas rather than how they helped Cinnabar hide a body, Phos was very confused.

Cinnabar was a selective hatred-inflicting mystery, and Phos loved a good puzzle. As long as it didn’t mean ending up six feet under, but judging from their roommate’s meager if anything body-count, it was a risk they could dare take.

Like most things in Phosphophyllite’s life, they didn’t plan it. They waited for the universe to align in a position favorable for minding someone else’s business. And the universe delivered on a sunny October afternoon, in the form of a Cinnabar leaving their laptop open and unguarded on their bed when they went to the toilet.

As it was due, Phosphophyllite thanked the universe, tasting the sweet, forbidden flavor of danger in their mouth as adrenaline started rushing through their body. They were alone, and they would be alone for a few seconds at least, so they steadied their heart and did the unthinkable.

They stepped into Cinnabar’s side of the room.

They world went still. Phos imitated it standing immobile as if the walls around them could crumble at any moment. As if Cinnabar had only pretended to leave their laptop unguarded, like they would ever make such a mistake. They were testing Phos. Their sadistic, evil kitten personality was testing Phos’ loyalty to the fear they had worked so hard to elicit in them that first day. And all the days after that.

But like most times in Phosphophyllite life, Phos ignored their common sense, opting instead for the decision that would elicit the least foreseeable outcome. Which happened to also be the stupidest.

They made another step.

Was it their imagination or the air in the room was getting colder? Shinsha’s side was definitely inhabited by the ghosts of their former roommates.

The forbidden object was now so close that Phos could venture out to touch it. Would that leave any fingerprint on the black, shiny, vampiric surface though? Would those fingerprints be easily attributable to Phosphophyllite? That was the whole point of fingerprints, if Phos was not mistaken.

So they made another step, their legs now dangerously close to the bed, to the point that they could feel the soft consistency of cotton sheets against their shin. They had never felt closer to death before and thus had never felt so alive. And so determined to stay alive.

That’s when they decided that they must have a death wish. They moved their head forward, casting their eyes impossibly close to enemy territory, and stole a glance at Cinnabar’s laptop, enough to capture the image they had set as wallpaper.

And Phos brought both of their hands to their mouth and suffocated a loud, elongated scream.

Cinnabar.

Cinnabar “if you talk to me you’re dead.”

Cinnabar “I’ll stop wearing black when they make a darker color.”

Cinnabar “I have never tasted the sweet flavor of happiness.”

That Cinnabar had a picture of kittens as desktop wallpaper.

Little, cute, fluffy fur balls with a big sign with words of encouragement written on it.

And Phos wasn’t screaming, or trying to prevent themselves from doing so, because of the kittens. Because everybody had a right to live their emo life in any way they so preferred. Even if 2008 had come and gone ten years ago. Even if it meant walking around with eyes so empty they could suck you in like a singularity point while still using a freaking picture of kittens as desktop wallpaper.

No, Phos would never judge someone else’s aesthetic, however contradictory. It would have meant judging their own first of all, and they enjoyed feeling the power surge of entropy as they went about their day in mismatched colors and sandaled socks.

No. Phos was screaming, or trying to prevent themselves from doing so, because of the sign. A huge, fully saturated red monstrosity that hurt their aspiring graphic designer’s eyes, but still not quite as much as the font.

There it stood, on Cinnabar’s pitch-black laptop, surrounded by the naïve cuteness of kittens. There it stood, the forsaken font, in all its cursed glory. Desecrating, insulting, violating, blaspheming the blissful and yet beautiful contradiction of emo kittens.

If they didn’t hear Cinnabar’s footsteps approaching from the corridor, Phos would have suffered from a Comic Sans-induced heart attack right on the spot. In Cinnabar’s side of the room.

They had just enough time to contemplate if that was Cinnabar’s preferred method of killing unsolicited roommates before they plunged into their own bed with a leap worthy of an Olympic qualification, like their life depended on it. Because, quite frankly, it did.

With their heart beating fast both from the near-death experience and the horror provoked by their discovery, they grabbed a book, the first book they could find, and shoved it in their own face the moment they landed on the mattress, exactly 0.2 seconds before Cinnabar’s figure stepped through the doorframe.

They had a large, steaming cup of coffee in their hand and a murderous stare in those bottomless, blood-red pits that people around campus insisted on calling eyes.

All the cuteness and tenderness they could have felt after discovering about the kittens disappeared as Phos tried to decipher if that glance was directed at the world or at them in particular.

Their heart was marathoning a full 50km at the speed of a sprinter. And it was being loud about it. So loud. Phos knew that Cinnabar could hear it.

As if in response, Cinnabar’s head shifted imperceptibly toward Phos’ side of the room. Not enough to make out their eyes from beneath Cinnabar’s red, tangled mess of a mane, but definitely enough to have Phos question all of their life choices so far.

--

The scene kept replaying every day before Phosphophyllite’s eyes.

Their forbidden gesture, the way they had bolted to the bed, the way they had grabbed a book and pretended to be reading, the way Cinnabar had come back to their room and had looked at them, the way they had sat down on their bed without saying a word.

The way they had started using their computer as if nothing had happened, the way Phos had cast a panicked glance in their direction and the way they had discovered, upon closer inspection, that they had been holding the book upside down.

Cinnabar didn’t mention any of these things. Not that day, nor the day after that. It was like they hadn’t noticed anything amiss in Phos’ behavior. And that was what made Phos so suspicious.

Phosphophyllite knew about their own chaotic attitude towards life. They knew they would never commit the perfect crime, because they could easily find a needle in a haystack but would totally miss a sperm whale in a coffee cup. Phosphophyllite knew. Everyone knew. Cinnabar knew.

And Cinnabar was waiting for them to break down.

It was already happening. Guilt and anxiety and horror mixing up in an uncontainable cocktail in Phos’s stomach, dangerously close to overflowing.

Could Cinnabar hear the pounding sound of Phos’ heart every time they were alone in a room with them? Had Cinnabar noticed that something was wrong with their laptop where Phos’ eyes had dared taint it with their glance? Did Phos leave any traces of their irresponsible trespassing?

The silence kept stretching on between the two of them, heavier and more loaded with murderous repercussions than usual. And with it, the growing repulsion of that one, cursed sign, disfiguring the amenity of emo kittens. It must have been ironic, Phos thought, it must have been. Or it could have been another test for Phos. If so, how should they respond to it?

They realized that they were staring at Cinnabar again, ready to anticipate possible attacks.

Cinnabar was sitting on their bed, black clothed legs hugging their black laptop while long, black sleeves clad their arms and hands, fingers intently typing some mysterious something. It was probably a list of the reasons why Phos had failed the test and how Cinnabar could get rid of them and make the world a better place.

Cinnabar pressed enter one last time, a single, swift movement of the finger.

It was all Phos needed.

They knew. Cinnabar knew. It was in the satisfaction with whom they had pressed enter and made their list of ‘1001 ways to kill Phosphophyllite’ a reality.

And the emotional brew that had been fermenting inside Phos’ stomach broke free.

“I’m so sorry please don’t kill me!”

If Phos thought that Cinnabar had been considering them up to this point, they were definitely unprepared to bear the weight of their undivided attention. Because, yes, Cinnabar’s stare was now definitely murderous, and yes, all of that murderous intent was directed at Phos exclusively. Success.

They arched one single eyebrow in Phos’ general direction.

Phos felt their heart sink. Catching what could very well be their last breath, they realized they should fight for their life. Because Cinnabar spat the next word as if it was disgusting for the sole reason that it was directed at Phos.

“What,” they said.

Phosphophyllite could see their chances of survival physically dimming before their eyes.

“Y-your laptop, I’m sorry, I swear I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, it happened, I looked at it!”

“You what?”

“I was just curious,” they blurted out, a curious mix of shame, relief and desperation lining their voice, “you never talk to me and you look super scary, but everyone else said you’re actually pretty nice and I didn’t know, I didn’t know what to do, I don’t know what kind of person you are so I thought I’d look just for a tiny second, please, please, please forgive me.”

Curiously enough, Cinnabar didn’t look murderous anymore. They looked perplexed.

They arched another eyebrow and that was when the magic happened because, rather than making them even scarier, that one gesture changed the expression on their face completely. They lost intimidation points, the second eyebrow easing some of the dangerousness from their face and replacing it with a new emotion that wasn’t gloom or anger or angst, or any of the emotions that Cinnabar had displayed in Phos’ presence.

Cinnabar looked surprised.

And it looked cute on them.

And did Phos just think ‘cute’ and ‘Cinnabar’ in the same phrase? They were definitely going to die today.

“You looked at my computer?”

“I did.”

And here was when the magic kept on happening. Because Cinnabar kept looking surprised. And, as such, kept looking less dangerous than they were cute.

“You- but why-“ even more: Cinnabar looked almost calm now, as if their disbelief had been enough to kick out anger and murder from their head, because there wasn’t enough room for all three of them. For a brief second, the thought that maybe, just maybe, they would live to see another day crossed Phos’ mind.

And then the thought crossed their mind again for a longer second, because Cinnabar’s face was an adorable frown of perplexity while they tried to make sense of their first experience of Phos’ incongruous lifestyle. If Cairngorm were here, they could help them through the process. It was less traumatic when there were two people instead of one to acknowledge the hopelessness of Phos’ case.

“Why?” Cinnabar managed to ask in a tiny, childish voice that Phos would never have believed could belong to them. And they destroyed it with chaotic pragmatism.

“I don’t know! I was just curios!”

Cinnabar’s eyes were back on them, their gaze significantly less cute now and Phos contemplated the option of pleading for their life once again, but they were on a rampage and couldn’t stop the words that come out of their mouth. So they uttered them at the speed of light to make up for it.

“Also please tell me it’s ironic!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The font!” what else? Was this another test? “The cursed one! The pic was super cute but you can’t ruin it like that! It hurts the kittens!”

“What the actual fuck. What’s your problem?”

“Gosh, I can’t believe this!” and wielding as a weapon that specific brand of courage that comes from an equal mixture of foolhardiness and spite, Phos did the unthinkable again.

They stood up and walked two oblivious steps into Cinnabar’s territory. And a third one toward Cinnabar’s bed. They bent down over their computer, dangerously close to Cinnabar’s face and blissfully unaware of the defensive way in which they were drawing back.

“That thing!” they said once again, pointing a finger at Cinnabar’s desktop, “gosh, I can’t even say its name, you used comic sans. Like, you used comic sans!”

“Stop staring at my computer, you creep,” Cinnabar protested, and shut the machine as a sign of defiance.

“How can you call me a creep? Look what you did to your kittens!”

“What the hell, go away, go back to your side of the room.”

“They don’t deserve this, and that red too, they don’t deserve this pain.”

Phos was so absorbed in their graphics-induced indignation that they almost missed the fierce, deep red that was dying Cinnabar’s cheeks. And they almost missed the way Cinnabar was no longer barking threats but tilting their head to the side and looking at them with a mixture of confusion and apprehension. Because Phos was ranting about designer’s stuff to a math grad. A math grad who knew about technology only the bare necessaire to write a couple of papers in which the quantity of numbers beat words 5 to 1, and who liked it that way. So Phos missed the exact moment in which Cinnabar’s irritation for their outrageous breach of privacy and personal space muted into defensiveness.

“’twas a gift. From my Sensei.”

“Uh?”

“The thing, I didn’t make it, it was a gift. It was nice of him. He said it was t-to bring me good luck.”

And suddenly the weight of all the things they had missed while they were ranting about gestalt and the faults of sans serifs hit Phos in the head with the violence of a very, very hard frying pan. And then they felt like shit.

“Oh. Oh! Shit, I mean, gosh, and how- how old is your Sensei?”

“I don’t know.”

“Like, more than sixty?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Alright, alright, gosh,” Phos ran a hand through their hair, they gazed at Cinnabar from beneath the teal and found them staring back at them, anticipation and worry on their face.

They were several years older than Phos, and several shades more bitter. And yet, they looked so tiny. A fragile, red-headed thing with adorable little freckles and what looked like a half-pout. In that exact moment, Phos understood how Padparadscha could call them a “cutie.” Padpa was never wrong about people, after all.

“Okay, listen. He was nice, but you both need to be enlightened about stuff,” so they put their hands on their hips in the cheap imitation of a power pose and donned their most charming smile.

“Therefore, I, Phosphophyllite, will help you out. I’m going to make you the best kitten wallpaper. The one that only you can use.”

And then proceeded to be smacked in the face by a skillfully thrown cushion.

[toonstarterz]

BECAUSE I’M NOT POPULAR, I’LL READ WATAMOTE: CHAPTER #138

Welcome to the first episode of Tomoko’s Speed Dating Arc! Our first contender is the resident “shy maiden”, Yuri Tamura. Her hobbies include listening to music and punching people. Today’s date will include a walk around a college campus, lunch at a local eatery, and shopping for new digs. How will Tomoko fair against this unreadable cutie? 

Find out right after the break! 

Chapter 138: Because I’m Not Popular, I’ll Check Out Colleges

My only comment here is what in the name of all that is good is with Yuri’s big ass purse?

In Tomoko’s eyes, Mako may as well be Yuri’s shadow, so it’s totally understandable that she’d be shocked that the girl came alone this time. Of course, Yuri’s lack of self-awareness means she didn’t even consider how that might throw people off.

There she goes again with the “same as me” comment to put her and Tomoko in the same boat. Little does she know that being in Tomoko’s boat is guaranteed to end in a mutual sinking.

Just look at these fashionable ladies in their adorable outfits. Tomoko, obviously, putting extra emphasis on the “casual” with her loose-fitting clothes and trademark hat to cover that shaggy hair. Then we have Yuri, super reserved with her puffy sleeves, plaid skirt with a screentone pattern that doesn’t hug the fabric at all; and her socks n’ sandals combo.

One thing to note is how they do the opposite of their uniforms regarding skin exposure. The long skirt-wearing Tomoko now has her bare legs visible, whereas the short skirt-wearing Yuri only has her knees exposed. Perhaps it’s a matter of self-confidence between a private (school) vs public setting. Tomoko has no issue showing more skin to strangers, while Yuri would feel self-conscious displaying herself to people other than close friends.

Or, you know, I’m just overthinking it again. 

Chiba West University: Where the Adibas-wearing students go to drink coffee at Sudobucks while doing homework on their Marosoft PCs.  

As encouraging as Yuri makes this sound, a part of me thinks that Yuri is also pushing herself so she can one-up Nemo and Katou. Hey, a little pettiness can be a good motivator.

Post Traumatic Ogino Disorder triggered.

Yuri-sensei would be an absolutely adorable teacher. Unfortunately, her quiet demeanor would make it easy for the little kiddos to walk all over her. Luckily, what she lacks in assertiveness…

...she makes up for in unjustified corporal punishment.

How refreshing it is that Yuri doesn’t automatically get annoyed by Tomoko’s opinion, and instead asks for her reasoning. Though Tomoko may be an idiot, it’s nice to see that Yuri recognizes that her friend is intelligent in ways that she isn’t.

Word for word from the Ogino’s Meddling Career Counseling chapter. I’m starting to think Tomoko will eat these words one way.

Hey, c’mon now, Tomoko. You used to be quite the stupid preteen yourself.

But in all seriousness, this assertion makes perfect sense for Tomoko. Her personality is one that is very incompatible with itself, hence her rivalry with Komi-something. Having to deal with hormonal and emotionally vulnerable middle schoolers would probably hit too close to home.

AHAHAHAHA, I’m totally not guilty of having thought the same thing when I was in high school...haha.

But you know, this harks back to what Nemo said about girls that act like a hive mind. When you do something to break away from the group’s dynamic, you become the “outsider”. The friend the other ones don’t necessarily hate, but are often ignored simply because they’re unlike the others.

In other words, you become the Ucchi.

Isn’t it obvious, Tomoko? She just wanted you to think that you both have more in common than you might’ve thought. Even if it means some opportunistic fibbing.

Given what we’ve seen between Yuri and Mako’s friendship, it’s both surprising and not surprising that Yuri doesn’t know about Mako’s career goals. We like to think that as BFFs, Yuri would know more, but as recent chapters have shown, Yuri doesn’t necessarily put in as much into the friendship as Mako does.

This may be the first clue to suggest that Tomoko could overtake Mako’s role as Yuri’s best friend.

So cults on campus have started to become a thing, eh? I really do enjoy these little details that show how even university life isn’t all flowers and sunshine. If the series ever extends into Tomoko’s college life, this would be an interesting field for her to maneuver around.

It must be said, the detail in this background of the campus courtyard(?) is very well done. The perspective really keys into how expansive it must be. I sure wouldn’t be surprised if Nico Tanigawa went and visited some colleges themselves as a reference for drawing up these upcoming chapters.

Unless you go to one of those party schools, the idea that college students are a bunch of wild social butterflies is false. In my experience, university kids are more reserved in their everyday life because being a rowdy bunch is too financially/socially expensive. They simply don’t have the luxury of being super extroverted all the time. If you have the means to go to a prestigious school, then you’re going to be doing a lot of studying. And if you go to a party college, then partying is what you’re going to end up doing. Such is the nature of the millennial.

Yuri’s dilemma is linked to a common issue revolving around the purpose of school: Do you go there to learn book smarts or street smarts? What is more important, knowledge or networking? For someone with low ambitions like Yuri, having to make a long-lasting commitment like what type of college life you desire can be a huge burden on one’s shoulders, especially when people expect you chose for reasons that go against your very nature.

But yes, Tomoko’s reasoning is incredibly sound,  and one yours truly learned the hard way. A major fallacy in the job hunting process is that employers are more likely to hire people who are more outgoing or easy to work with than someone more knowledgeable but less socially experienced. This practice is often quoted as “It’s not what you know, its who you know”, and can be a real obstacle for introverts like Tomoko and Yuri.  

I appreciate how the frame focuses on this young lady to the side when Tomoko talks about studious college kids. Everyone knows the model of a good university student is a slim, bespectacled lady in a conservative skirt who secretly lewds the brothers from Osomatsu-san and drowns her troubles in beer.

Also, I see you casually smiling there, Yuri. Just like the old days.   

How sweet! Thanks to Tomoko’s reassurance, Yuri lets loose her earnest insecurities, openly declaring how much Tomoko’s presence means to her. Surely even Tomoko would not be so blind as to ignore such–nevermind.

I’m suddenly reminded just how long it’s been since the first field trip arc. No way Tomoko would make the same mistake twice, right?

Phew, thank goodness!

Bull. Shit. You totally were.

Whaaaat? Tomoko watches normie programs and not just otaku-pandering anime? Like, omigawd how can I relate my own degenerate lifestyle to Tomoko if she has slightly positive attributes?

Ah, Yoshida. For being such a transparent, pure-hearted delinquent, even she isn’t the type to make people feel terrible right in front of them. I had a feeling that Yoshida and Yuri would talk about Tomoko behind her back, especially in the earlier chapters. Not maliciously like Minami, but disconcertedly. Cause let’s face it, you’re bound to get uneasy when you hang out with Tomoko for the first time.

I’ve always wondered, what’s Yuri’s take on the whole “Yoshida is a delinquent,” business? Nearly everyone else can agree that Yoshida has delinquent tendencies, even if they aren’t as vocal about it as Tomoko. But Yuri has, to my knowledge, neither agreed nor disagreed with this sentiment. Perhaps that just means Yoshida’s yankee-ness is inconsequential for Yuri. Whether she is or isn’t, Yuri isn’t about to treat Yoshida any differently than she has before.

NOTICE: We regret to inform you that ToonStarterz nearly broke his laptop trying to give a fictional character a comforting hug through the monitor. He’ll be back shortly after contemplating his life choices. 

Only Tomoko can take the image of Yoshida as some kind of gangbanger and spin it into an encouraging speech for Yuri. What glorious trash she be.

Yeah, Tomoko’s mind has always been a little warped, as Yuri once thought. She always seems to take a little too much pleasure in seeing the depravity/vices of others, like how she wanted to have lunch with Hirasawa just to hear about her supposed sexual exploits. As Tomoko becomes more comfortable in her own skin and comes to terms with her own degeneracy, her delight in seeing it in others could be her own twisted sense of empathy at play.

Despite everything, I think Tomoko has more or less stopped acting condescending towards Yoshida’s delinquent status. Nowadays, she views that side of Yoshida with an air of fondness, even spinning it into something positive for Yuri’s sake. It’s a development that actually works for Tomoko and Yoshida’s friendship. Tomoko hasn’t really stopped accosting her, but she’s managed to entertain herself through it. Thankfully, Yoshida’s proven that much of Tomoko’s shittiness doesn’t really bother her, and even seems to gravitate towards those kinds of friends.

And best of all, it’s that frankness from Tomoko and Yoshida that inspires Yuri out of her bubble of inaction. 

That-a-girl, Yuri. Show her how reliable you can be. 

Still, she needs to learn that friendship isn’t just a give-and-take. Sometimes you end up having to give and NOT take just to stay afloat. Meeting them halfway isn’t always viable, but in true friendship, the other person knows how that feels too, meaning you can reach an equilibrium because of that mutual imbalance.

Even though Yuri is not one to give out half-hearted sympathies, when she does understand you, her empathy levels are top-notch. 

The last 137 chapters of the series flashed before the readers’ minds.

There’s a Moment in every good manga where the main character will say or do something that instantly endears them to you. That makes you think, “This is so me!” or “#ourgirl”. For a series that’s as socially aware as this is, Tomoko rejecting a purchase simply because she doesn’t want to give in to a higher entity’s persuasion is one of those key Moments. Stay woke, Tomoko.

If it were from anybody else, I feel like Tomoko would have gotten ticked off over a comment like that. Perhaps its because it’s Yuri, and Tomoko knows she isn’t the teasing type, and therefore, must be genuinely convinced that it wouldn’t fit Tomoko’s style.

And Yuri’s role as the replacement Yuu officially begins. Sorry, Ucchi.

As disturbing as it sounds, getting harassed by Tomoko like this is actually a mark which symbolizes that Tomoko’s gotten comfortable enough with you to see you as a close friend. Yuu’s the only one to have this, er, “privilege”, and I can’t help but find that freakishly meaningful.

Has Watamote seriously reached a high enough standard that simply wearing a cold shoulder top is enough to be considered fanservice?

Yes. Yes, it has.

Many of us readers were waiting for the moment when Tomoko realizes that Yuri is actually pretty sex...er, beautiful (sorry, calling Yuri “sexy” or “hot” just feels WRONG to me). This may mean that Tomoko is going to start lewding the girl in her mind. Now considering that Tomoko is all bark and no bite, that might actually be flattering to some degree. Maybe.

Ah, good times. Good...times.

I see, so it’s not actually the perving on girls that Tomoko enjoys. It’s the thrill of seeing someone swim in dangerous waters. The contrast between goodness and “badness” which inevitably leads to a firecracker display of embarrassment that Tomoko eats up like the nasty she is.

Once again, we’re reminded why Tomoko had trouble making friends in the first place.

I’m actually glad that Tomoko is under no illusions. This behavior is scummy, and she knows it. That said, she has her self-serving limits. By mentioning how she couldn’t do this before with the others, she knows that harassing normies like Nemo or punks like Yoshida would lead to her downfall. Whereas Yuri, whom Tomoko suddenly realized is a “pure n’ plain” girl, would likely not retaliate too much from a little sexual harassment. 

Doesn’t mean she won’t push her luck.  

You tend to forget that for being a quiet, introverted girl, Yuri is no pushover. She won’t go out of her way to actively antagonize you (usually), but when you try to push her into something she disagrees with, she’s solid as a rock. 

Take that, readers! Nico Tanigawa ain’t about to throw you two bones in one chapter.

I...wouldn’t put it past her. But that may actually be why Yuri has been so essential to Tomoko’s growth. Tomoko’s friendship with Yuu is solid, but Yuu’s sweetness was a crutch. Because Yuu accepts Tomoko wholeheartedly, the latter never had any motivation to really change herself. Yuri openly disapproves of Tomoko’s negative qualities, and it’s ultimately made the girl a slightly better friend.  

Sometimes, Nico Tanigawa uses the manga medium to their fullest advantage. In this case, playing with the dialogue and speakers. There’s nothing to indicate who’s saying this monologue. But that’s exactly it:

Both Tomoko and Yuri are thinking about this. These concerns and desires are applicable to each of them. Different as they are on the outside, they are, emotionally, more similar than they ever realized. 

This is a common defense mechanism for introverts. To avoid a blow to their self-esteem, they don’t put high expectations on their social lives. That way, they won’t be disappointed should those friendships drift apart. 

But sometimes, you meet some people. Maybe even just one person who you just click with. You can’t imagine drifting away from them because you feel like you lose so much. And suddenly, the protectiveness you feel by keeping everyone at a distance is penetrated by the very few who you’ve managed to embrace. Then you realize, late as Tomoko often does, that the path of least resistance is no longer viable. All that’s left is to march down the path full of risks if it means you get to keep what’s at the end of the rainbow.

Without a doubt...

The. 

Sweetest. 

Moment. 

EVER.

Nowadays, the chapters of Watamote end in one of two ways. A cringy, but non-meanspirited gag, or a bittersweet, but heartwarming self-reflection. The last one happens sporadically, or it’d start to lose its meaning, which is exactly what we get here. Tomoko is not an overly (deludedly, in the past) optimistic person. She’s more of a realist now. But when faced with a thought that hits the middle of being optimistic or pessimistic, Tomoko will steer more towards the latter. It’s a much healthier mindset that stays grounded in reality, but looks more towards the bright side. She didn’t have to call Yuri by her first name. But a small part of her told her that maybe, just maybe, getting a little closer to Yuri would lead their relationship towards something more.

This chapter really set the bar for Tomoko’s Golden Week. Let’s see how Nemoto and Katou fair following a tough act like that. 

[friendly-neighborhood-mess]

#1-100, answer them all nOW

Ahhhh yas okay

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora?

SPOTIFY

*is your room messy or clean?

it…depends.

*what color are your eyes?

hazel/honey c:

*do you like your name? why?

meh, it’s alright .*what is your relationship status? 

single af.

*describe your personality in 3 words or less

laughs at everything.

*where do you shop?

at a store duh.

*how would you describe your style?

casual, but cool and comfy… sometimes.

*favorite social media account

TUMBLR.

any siblings?

yas.

*if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why?

oh man, so many places. maybe Italy, or london, or new york, or oslo or so many otherssss.

*favorite snapchat filter? 

oh! the one with the glasses and the freckles.

*favorite makeup brand(s)

uhhh, mac, maybelline…yep. 

*how many times a week do you shower?

7.

*favorite tv show?

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER IS THE BEST.

*shoe size?

not sure, because all of the countries have different charts of sizes and it confuses me.

*how tall are you?

same answer that before.

*sandals or sneakers? 

i will wear sneakers till the day i die.

*do you go to the gym? 

uhhhhhhh.

*describe your dream date

lots of laughs, not being awkward, going home with a smile on the face. 

*how much money do you have in your *wallet at the moment?

what is money anyway.

*what color socks are you wearing? 

not wearing socks.

*how many pillows do you sleep with?

1, 2 max.

*do you have a job? what do you do? 

i wish i did but no :c 

*whats the worst thing you have ever done? 

i once broke my sister’s laptop BUT IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.

*whats your favorite candle scent? 

vanilla. 

*3 favorite boy names

alex, sam and Carter, and tom and peter.

*3 favorite girl names

sophie, anna, gwen.

*favorite actor? 

rdj, tom holland, chris pratt, sam claflin…

*favorite actress? 

cobie smulders, lily collins, emilia clarke…

*who is your celebrity crush?

you should know that by now tom in case you don’t .

*favorite movie? 

I CAN’T JUST PICK ONE.

*do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? 

not a lot lot but i read. I CAN’T JUST PICK ONE.

*money or brains? 

brains.

*do you have a nickname? what is it? 

mo, mon, monts. basically just take or add a letter every time.

*how many times have you been to the hospital?

one, when i was born lol. (like i have been to the doctor, but like being in the bed conected to machines, never).

*top 10 favorite songs

I CAN’T JUST PICK 10.

*what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)

hmm, sometimes oily, sometimes dry, sometimes fine.

*what is your biggest fear? 

spiders, snakes, the deep ocean, spiders, how small we are compared to the universe and SPIDERS.

*how many kids do you want? 

uh idk, 2?

*whats your go to hair style?

it’s either up or down, i can do better, i’m just lazy.

*who is your role model? 

my grandpa.

*what was the last compliment you received?

that i have pretty eyes.

*what was the last text you sent?

*a meme* me: “ HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHA”.

*how old were you when you found out *santa wasn’t real?

SANTA’S NOT REAL??!! 

neh just kidding, like 10/12 not sure.

*what is your dream car? 

huh, never thought about it.

*opinion on smoking?

nope.

*what is your dream job? 

actress or writer.

*would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs?

oh man, i love both. 

*do you take shampoo and conditioner *bottles from hotels? 

yeah, when they smell nice.

*do you have freckles? 

no :c

*do you smile for pictures?

yep.

*how many pictures do you have on your phone? 

a lot. (mostly memes)

*have you ever peed in the woods? 

nope.

*do you still watch cartoons? 

yas. 

*do you prefer chicken nuggets from *Wendy’s or McDonalds?

i have only tried the burgers at wendy’s so mcdonalds.

*Favorite dipping sauce? 

don’t have one.

*what do you wear to bed? 

pjs.

*have you ever won a spelling bee?

yes!

* what are your hobbies?

music, reading, drawing, netflix, music, walking, music…

*can you draw? 

i´m no professional but i can draw somethings.

*do you play an instrument?

the piano, and i’m learning the ukulele. 

*tea or coffee?

coffeeeee.

*Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?

starbucks and dunkin donuts.

*do you want to get married?

sure, in the far away future.

*what is your crush’s first and last initial?

not telling. 

*are you going to change your last name *when you get married? 

nope.

*what color looks best on you? 

according to my mom, green, not sure if i agree tho.

*do you miss anyone right now? 

yes.

*what is your biggest pet peeve? 

 i am impatient and can be talkative lmao.

*last person you called`

my friend.

*favorite ice cream flavor? 

cookies n’ cream, choco-mint or cinnamon.

*regular oreos or golden oreos? 

R E G U L A R.

*chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? 

rainboooow, they make my ice cream look pretty.

*what shirt are you wearing? 

a black hoodie lol.

*what is your phone background?

my lock screen is a hand dropping planets and my home screen, some planets.

*are you outgoing or shy?

both. like i can talk to people and have fun blah blah, but i can be the shiest person.

*do you like it when people play with hair?

YES.

*do you like your neighbors? 

well, they say good morning and i say it back.

*do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?

yes, at both times.

*last thing you ate? 

a chocolate bar hehe.

*favorite lyrics right now

“will i have grown a little empire or made a fucking mess”.

*summer or winter? 

winter.

*day or night? 

both.

*dark, milk, or white chocolate? 

milk and white.

*favorite month? 

october.

*what is your zodiac sign

scorpio.

* who was the last person you cried in front of? 

my mom.

[ieryana]

Dinner with Christians

*** Disclaimer *** - this is tongue in cheek fun. If you take it seriously and get triggered because bew hew you know a Christians then tough shit frankly. Enjoy! ________________________________________________________________

  "Fun as in 'naked twister' fun?" he quipped, slightly too hopefully. Felicity shot him one of her narrow-eyed, ‘you better behave’ sort of looks and squeezed his arm. "It's just that I went to a party once and it was full of forty-something swingers and-" "Oh you did not," She admonished with a flap of her hand that signalled that she didn't believe him and that the subject was dead. "Besides," she added, almost as an afterthought, "they're good Christian people, they wouldn't be into anything like that." "They're what?" A look of horror flew across Max’s face. Last time he’d encountered Christians en masse was his Christening, and he’d slept through that. "Flick!  Daaahling! Happy New Year!" A horribly ‘faux posh’ voice echoed from the porch. "Tom, Helen, how are you both, awww!"  Felicity gushed, hugging her hosts and flashing air kisses that missed by miles.  It was at that moment that the girl that was once Felicity Harbour changed….in a way Max hoped he would never see again. The transformation was devastating, dramatic and swift.  In that moment, she had become the entity known as Flick. Max stood in the doorway and juggled the beer, a resigned but somehow desperate expression on his face.  What had just happened?  It was only seven pm and he already wished the night was over. As he walked into the predictably magnolia and laminate hallway he spared a thought for the lads in the King's Arms, drinking, celebrating, happy, and single.  Happy New Year indeed. From inside, the stomach-churning soprano 'Walking in the Air' began to filter through into the hallway and he knew that with certainty it wouldn't be long before Cliff made an appearance too. Tom and Helen were pretty as boring as the house.  Helen was slightly overweight and dowdy. Straight mousy hair framed a chubby face and she was dressed in a shapeless floral dress.  Tom was the sort of guy you would want to beat savagely and, were it not for the fact that it would be something like kicking a puppy, you feared that you would.  Sporting a pair of tortoise shell rimmed glasses and a drab loose knit sweater; he’d also adopted a magnificent eye twitch that Max found compelling.  Tom would use words like 'cathartic' and 'holistic' a lot and pronounced the word beautiful as 'buuudafull’. Max ground his teeth together and tried to smile.            "So Maximillian nice to finally meet you, how aaaare you?  We heard you've been mentally ill is that right?"  Tom said all in one breathe.            Maximillian? Against his better judgement, he shifted the bitter into the crook of his arm and grasped Tom's limp, slightly damp hand, pumping it in greeting whilst brandishing a vaguely threatening fake grin.  "No, no it was a week off work for compassionate reasons, some work rela-"            "Super!  Well, this is my wife Helen…"  Tom cut in with a disarming smile and a sweep of his hand.             Feeling more than very put out, Max braced himself as Helen approached him for a double air kiss and he was horrified to note a wispy, grey moustache lying in wait across her top lip.  She smelled faintly of Yardley’s English Lavender, and that was no great surprise either.  Helen also had this irritating habit of talking to you through either closed or wildly fluttering eyelids, it made him wonder whether half way through a conversation he could nip away and come back without being noticed.  "Soooo gooooood to seeee yooooou," she whined.            Tom and Helen invited them into an untidy living room and introduced them to the others: Jed and Hannah, Campbell and his friend Philip, and Camilla. "Guys, this is Maximillian, Flick's beau – he's recently been mentally ill," Tom was saying, nodding sagely, "So let’s hope he finds tonight's diverse social integration… cathartic." Max raised a hand in salute. "Well, I wasn't strictly ill, but hello."  Something told him that the five pints of John Smith's he'd downed before meeting Flick and friends wouldn't be enough.  He then noticed Jed was wearing sandals with Argyll socks and briefly flirted with the idea of running away – quickly.            Dinner was a bland vegetarian affair that Helen had managed to become tearful over when she discovered that she had burned the crust of the leak and leak pie.  The potatoes were more than slightly underdone and the onion gravy watery beyond compare, although the Swede and carrot mash was passable.  She seemed heartened by the fact that her eye-watering, sugar-free rhubarb and gooseberry compote was edible, or at least that was the suggestion that everyone had given her by doggedly finishing their bowls.   "I think I've just developed a stomach ulcer," Max whispered to Flick, who shushed him tetchily.            "Matchmakers and coffee?" offered Tom, as if it was the height of sophistication.            "I'll stick with the beer, thanks."  Max pointed to his fast depleting stock.  The group had barely managed to empty three bottles of predictably cheap wine over dinner. He cracked open another can and tried to get comfortable on the lumpy sofa. "So," Jed was saying, his legs crossed and his hands constructing a pyramid at his chest, "Hannah and I met Campbell whilst on sabbatical in Bratislava in 1999…"            "Yea yea, Bratislava’s an awesome country”; Campbell interjected as if anyone was interested in his point.           Max rolled his eyes, but thought again about speaking out, leaving the group to embarrass themselves.            "Well, it's funny," Campbell continued in his soft, whiney Scottish accent and patted his 'friends' arm, "because Philip and I met during his gap year in Burundi." "Yes I was working with Médecins Sans Frontières as a volunteer nurse."  Philip added with a self-satisfied smile.            "Oh that's riiiight," gushed Helen.  "I heard that you had done a lot of good work in the Third World."            "I now do some volunteer work with special needs, but not as much as I'd like to" Philip continued, "in fact I'm a dedicated helper in the community for a great person called Ben Calloe."            “Wonky Ben?"  Max said.            The front room fell silent.  To look at their faces so aghast, one would have thought that he had just dropped his pants.  "What?  Wonky Ben, gammy leg, he comes in the pub."            "He's got cerebral palsy, Max," Philip said with the measured patience of somebody trying to break some really bad news.            "Yeah but you want to try and race lad, he's pretty quick after a few rum and cokes I can tell you."            "You feed him alcohol?"  Campbell seemed genuinely horrified.            Max shrugged.  "He's a bloke not a gerbil. Why shouldn’t he enjoy a drink or two, he’s still a person".  He was vaguely aware of Flick tugging urgently at his sleeve.  "What, you've never raced a drunken spazz?"            "We don't refer to them as 'spastic' anymore."  Hannah said gently.            "Anyway…" Tom intervened.  "Campbell, you were saying about Burundi…"            Max's eyes darted incredulously from speaker to speaker, what irritated him more than the inane anecdotes of who met whom and during what Hutu uprising, was the fact that Camilla simply nodded in agreement to every statement and mmm-mmm'd her approval.  This further cemented Max's theory that she had nothing to add to any conversation.  Anywhere.  Ever.            Max sighed and cracked open another can. "So Maxi, did your faith helped you through your period of mental illness?" Tom said, some time later, turning his attention across the table.            "Sorry, what?" Max jumped awake from the semi-doze he’d fallen into            "Your faith, was it a crutch?"  Helen asked.  "I found that my faith brought me through my darker moments when I was diagnosed with uterine polyps."            "Mmm, yah, polyps."  Camilla nodded seriously, shooting Helen a tight lipped look of unswerving support and female camaraderie.            "Er, no, I'm not a big church goer to be honest."  Or at all, but he wasn’t going to admit that.            "Awww."  The group crooned in an 'oh you poor, silly, ignorant little man' fashion.            He noted that Flick looked suitably embarrassed and could not help but feel a little crow of jubilation inside him.            "You really should consider taking Christ into your life."  Hannah said.            "Mmm-mmm, yah.  Christ our Lord."  Camilla spouted and actually held up a hand in some sort of 'hey Jesus, here I am,' wave.            Max drew a patient breath and forced a smile. "No, thanks all the same.  I'm happy with my lot and it's not really for me, but cheers."            "Don't worry; I'm sure you will regain your faith with Flick's help, she is such a strong woman."  Helen sympathised.  "You will find that it was the glory of the Lord that drew you out of your mental illness."            "Oh, I'm not so sure!"  Max replied smoothly.            They all looked at him in earnest.  "Yes Max… it was. They nodded as one. "Oh yes, Jesus loves you.  He loves us all."  Hannah intoned. This was getting a little creepy, and Max edged his way along the sofa.            "Doesn't seem to love wonky Ben that much does he now," Max replied sourly.            "Ah, don't worry, the Lord has His own plan for Ben. His physical illness is part of god’s plan, as was your mental illness."         Max slammed his hand down on the nearby table causing everyone to jump and sending John Smiths tins scattering.  Camilla stopped mmm-mmming all of a sudden and looked petrified. He stood up and stared at them all. "Look, I'm not mentally ill.  I never have been; I had a week's leave of absence after some work related stresses and my mum dying.  And before you say it, no, she's hasn't 'crossed over' or 'become spirit' or whatever it is you nut-jobs think and she's not 'in a better place'. She's in a box, in the ground, in Highgate cemetery.  Oh and in case you were wondering, I don't want to join your blasted Christian polyp support group or whatever it is.  I have been listening to you lot for the past four hours and you have yet to say anything remotely constructive or interesting!" "Maxi, I really don't think this is-" Campbell began to speak, looking pale. "It's Max you irritating Scottish poof!" "Wha-what?"  Campbell and Philip both looked stunned, as if some great and unspoken secret had been splashed across the national news. "Oh come off it, people!  If these two were any more mince they'd be a Chilli Con Carne." An awkward silence fell across the group, broken only by Philip, who began to weep quietly into his napkin. He glared at them for a few seconds longer before about turning and striding into the hallway.  "Jesus Christ!  No wonder they threw you lot to the lions!” The door slammed shut in his wake. "Peace be with you…"  Tom murmured cheerlessly, smoothing his pullover.