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File 148773956911.jpg - (347.46KB, 593x800, she's enough.jpg) [iqdb]
64513 No. 64513
Previous thread: >>63805

“Let me see your hand for a second.”

“Sure,” says Momiji, obediently raising her hand up. “What’s up?”

Wordlessly, you grab it. Momiji patiently awaits your next move, but you merely lower your head in embarrassment and interlock your fingers with hers.

“Gallagher,” Momiji says, a hitch of curbed delight in her voice. “Did you... did you want to hold hands?”

“I just thought that this was the most appropriate course of action to show you how I feel. And I didn’t want to leave any room for doubt. Obviously, if I had to say anything, knowing me, I’d just stumble over my words for five minutes straight because I’m no particular expert on articulating my emotions.”

“And you say that you aren’t affectionate?”

“I’m not.”


Then a lot of things. Many different things, though you’re unable to piece together the proper words for it. But screw proper, you have just enough to tell her what you mean. “You’re important to me. A whole lot.”

“Well.” Momiji lifts your hand up with hers and, with a gentle touch, she brings it to her cheek. The wolf prompts you to caress her—a request you easily comply with. She breathes out a contented sigh as you stroke her cheek. “If, for some odd reason you didn’t already know, you’re very important to me too.”



“We should go.”

“Yeah. We should.”

So you do, and so she does. The walk to the apartment takes about twice as long as it usually does, but you sure as hell don’t mind. It’s spring, and it’s the nasty kind of spring, but here you are, ambling along the streets hand-in-hand with a wolf tengu, wearing the stupidest fucking grin you could possibly make.

She squeezes your hand, does a little bashful smile, and all of a sudden, you’re about half a measure from kissing the dumb girl. But you restrain yourself. Just barely, but you do.

Momiji lingers by the entrance once you get your apartment door open, a moment of uncharacteristic indecision on her part.

“Momiji,” you say, waving her in. “Come in already. You don’t have to ask.”

“Ahaha, yeah, I guess not.” With a smile, she heads inside, clicking the door shut as she does.

At that moment you advance on her, pulling her in closer by the waist. Eyes locked onto hers, it’s pretty obvious what you’re doing.

“Need something?” she says, leaning her head closer to yours, perfectly aware of what you want.

“Take a guess.”

Momiji wraps her arms around your neck and kisses you. It’s shy, it’s brief, but it’s a kiss nonetheless. “Was that it?”

“It was.”



“We’re never going to get anything productive done when it’s just the two of us around.”

“It’s fine. I was never productive in the first place.”

Momiji is right though. It takes all of ten minutes to leave the doorstep. After you force yourself to break the embrace, you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You try to get your mind off the girl while you wash up, but she’s all you can think about—just the sound of her humming in your hallway gets you acting all stupid.

When you’re done, you sink into bed. Momiji, with a spare change of clothes, joins you. She’s wearing a loose black tank-top and shorts a half-size too large for her. Probably got them from her place while you were washing up.

“Gallagher,” Momiji says, throwing the covers over herself.


“...Gallagher,” she repeats.

“What is it?”

“About Lily. About... um, Lily. What if, y’know, Lily joined us?”

“What now?”

“What if she joined us? In this thing we’re having. Because I don’t hate her and I don’t think you hate her. And I can share. That way, everybody gets to be happy... or something close to that.”

Words are lost on you.

Momiji continues. “I mean, it might work out in the end since... well, if—if I have to leave, then—then...”

“Momiji,” you weakly say.

Under the covers, she moves closer to pull you in for a comforting hug. “...Sorry.”
45posts omitted. Last 50 shown. Expand all images
>> No. 64763
[X] You have all this free time today. Maybe you should update for once.

Just update it.
>> No. 64764
Oh my god all of you people neglecting Miji to post on an automotive forum are awful.

That being said:
[X] You have all this free time today. Maybe you should update for once.
>> No. 64768
[X] You should do something that involves more than sitting on your ass

Maybe the reason why Loram never updates is because these update choices are actually for him to update and not Gallus.
>tfw not going to pick it anyway
>> No. 64822
File 150364659857.jpg - (121.82KB, 850x1607, 49t49fff.jpg) [iqdb]
Just dropping by to say that the update's coming along, albeit slowly. I have no convenient excuse as to why it's been taking so long, but I hope you guys understand anyway.
>> No. 64823
You fucking lie.
>> No. 64824
File 15036897647.png - (771.05KB, 1229x1638, __inubashiri_momiji_touhou_drawn_by_tyouseki__a39e.png) [iqdb]
I'll believe it when I see it.
>> No. 64825
I believe in you, Moral.
>> No. 65015
>believing in Moral
>the year of our lord 2017
>> No. 65046
File 15106697771.jpg - (3.28MB, 2800x3612, __inubashiri_momiji_touhou_drawn_by_amagi_amagi626.jpg) [iqdb]
Have faith, thou, in prophecy by our ancestors written. It is said, “And he shall descend on pinions of swear words and cute. The great and terrible Im-Moral.”
>> No. 65216
Hey guys, here comes the bi-annual "oh my god my life is so awful i take 5 minutes out of my day to write about magical girls in frilly dresses wahhhh" post.

Not gonna lie, I'm exhausted. Not of the story, mind you, because I still want to keep writing. I'm just on the work treadmill and haven't been in the best of condition the past few months. This is not to say that I was so busy that I haven't had the time to finish an update (or five) by now - because I have no real excuse for you guys other than "times are tough lol."

I'm going to have an update before the end of the year or at least I'm going to keep telling myself that.

Sorry for the trouble, everyone.
>> No. 65217
It's really me, by the way. Forgot my trip.
>> No. 65219
Hang in there Moral~
Looking forward to the next post
>> No. 65220
Moral, do your best! We believe in you!
>> No. 65221
you've only wrote one update and one shitpost in the last half a year

>> No. 65222
We're gonna need a new prophecy.
>> No. 66103
rip in peace gally-kun, he's never gonna get that pasta
>> No. 66377
File 15263700764.jpg - (375.83KB, 566x800, not really complex emotions.jpg) [iqdb]
You know what? You have all this free time on your hands. Maybe you should update for once. That is, as soon as Momiji gets off of you. You have grossly underestimated her tenacity and ability to draw your attention to less pressing matters—not that you mind, but at this rate, evening is going to come way before you can even think about touching your update.

You’d much rather touch Momiji, but today should be a day of restraint. Sad, unfulfilling, you want to do things to her so much restraint.

“Gallagher,” Momiji says. A second passes, but she doesn’t say anything else, pondering within your arms. Worry creases her brow and that alone makes you nervous. Of course, you’re overreacting, but ever since Momiji became fundamental to your immediate happiness, you can’t help but think that every moment like this is—and will be—fleeting.

She takes a slow, steady breath. Then, after a very deliberate pause, she speaks. “I can’t ignore dinner any longer. I’m going to have to do something about it before the pasta soaks too much.”

“Oh,” you say, as Momiji nestles closer to you. “I see.”


“And this isn’t ignoring dinner, how exactly?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going.” Reluctantly, she pushes herself away from you. “Damn basic necessities—always getting in the way of the heart.”

Momiji looks to you for a reaction, or maybe an excuse for her to stay a minute longer, but you shoo her away. You have a rare chance to work on your update so, fate willing, you’ll seize it.

You’re almost certain that you’re going to get struck by a meteor because this is the fastest that you have ever written anything. You have words—hundreds of them—and it hasn’t even been an hour yet. Granted, all you’ve written so far is Momiji and her dialogue, but frankly, Momiji sounds like…

Well. She sounds like Momiji.

Then Momiji, the real one, comes barging straight into the room, holding a tray with two full plates of pasta triumphantly in the air.

“Behold. Pasta.”

You just stare at her.

“I know, I know. You’re speechless. It’s too great, too perfect to be just pasta. But believe me, I was there when it happened. It’s lightly seasoned with a little bit of garlic and basil—not enough for the flavor to overpower the pasta, but enough to give it some kick.”

“Miji,” you sigh. “You’re a doof.”

“I’m a doof with two bowls of pasta,” she says. “Now have some.”

“In a bit. I need to iron out this update a little more.”

“Sure.” Momiji leans over your shoulder, scanning the contents of the update. She gasps. “Whoa. That girl. Isn’t she a little too cool?”

“Who, Aya?”

“I meant me,” Momiji says, disgusted.

“Good one.”

“You know it’s true.”

You meet her eyes. “She pales in comparison to you, though.”

“But she’s me.” Momiji grins, returning to reading the rest of your update. “Oh. I think I said this before! In real life, I mean.”

“You did. She’s kinda based off the real thing.”

“It’s nice to know you pay real close attention to me,” she says, laughing.

“I’ll do a lot more than just pay attention to you.”

“By that, you mean, uh—”

“Yeah.” You lightly push Momiji by the shoulders, coaxing her to the bed. She takes a nervous glance to the side but otherwise lets you do as you please. “I mean this.”

“Um. What about the update?”

Much like the pasta, it can wait.
>> No. 66378

Now to build that cryosleep pod so I can live to see the next one.
>> No. 66379
>You know what? You have all this free time on your hands. Maybe you should update for once.

This sentence should be illegal for you to use.
>> No. 66380
Oh damn, did Yaf's nagging actually works.
>> No. 66381
>ever since Momiji became fundamental to your immediate happiness, you can’t help but think that every moment like this is—and will be—fleeting

Don't think I don't see what you did there.
>> No. 66382
Relax, with this update speed, their relationship will survive the next millennium.
>> No. 66383
hurray gally-kun got his pasta!

and his momiji
>> No. 66453
File 152854304063.png - (285.90KB, 397x644, ohrin.png) [iqdb]
Hey guys. It's you-know-who here. I've been thinking a whole lot about site-related stuff. Updates (or lack of), in particular. On another thread, we were talking about how authors go radio-silent and how it isn't really cool that writefags can just disappear into the void without so much as a "hi guys i'm dropping this story!"

Well, big news: I'm not dropping this story, nor am I planning to. I'll always lather on the bullshit about why I'm not updating fast but don't worry - I'll tell you guys when I'm going to quit. In general, I don't really say much in between lulls (and they're biiiig lulls, I know, sorry) but if I'm not saying anything, usually that means that I'm working on it! Admittedly, the last few years have been less than kind to me but that's life, right? I'm now free from the shackles that bound me and that means I have no excuse to delay updates. Am I still going to update slow? I mean, yeah, but if I take any longer than two weeks, you have the all-access pass to bitch at me.

I don't know if you guys needed anything to reassure you but lo and behold: here it is. Thanks for your continued support. Have an unrelated Orin image I liked.
>> No. 66454
People had an all-access pass to bitch at you for at least two years now and you didn't do anything. So I'm just here to laugh at you.
>> No. 66455
As somebody who's been wont to do similar, it's cool. A lot of talking with nothing else to show for it is worse than long periods of radio silence, imo.
>> No. 66457
> I'm not dropping this story, nor am I planning to.
> I'll tell you guys when I'm going to quit.

I always knew you were a bro, but now I have it in writing. Cheers, mate.

> no excuse to delay updates

>> No. 66458
File 152862030880.png - (141.01KB, 701x275, 1501465146094.png) [iqdb]
>> No. 66461
See? This is good.

Moral, I now have more respect towards you. Dialogue is very, very precious when you have users to talk/relate with, every author should do this.
A simple, 3 line post every once in a while - even every month or more, hell. Not too often - to update us about stuff. Easy, and really useful.

Now go back to write, you dork!
>> No. 66566
File 153180974364.gif - (381.82KB, 599x596, cooks are eating.gif) [iqdb]
“The pasta’s gone cold, Gallagher,” Momiji says, taking a reluctant bite. You stare at her from the bed. She holds a defensive position at your desk with her back turned to you. Her ears flatten as she twirls her fork at the edge of her plate. Her clothes, by your fault, are disheveled—the thin shirt she’s barely wearing is crumpled and everything else she wore earlier is now at the side of the bed.

Momiji’s lack of attire makes you want to do things to her. Things that you just did a moment ago.

“Sorry,” you say. “I, uh, got distracted.”

Her shoulders drop from their anxious height. “By me?”

“By you,” you answer.

She turns to you. Though her voice remains calm, Momiji’s ears raise to their full height. “Why?”

“…Do I really have to explain?”

“You do.”

“You see—” A lot of answers come to mind, but of course you find yourself struggling to piece them together. You suck in some air for a sigh. “I find you really attractive and it gets hard to keep a level head when you’re, uh, leaning right over me. I might do things to you.”

She smiles. “Like what you did to me?”

“Yes. Like what I just did. Sorry.” You scratch an imaginary itch on your neck. “I might have gone overboard.”

“No, you’re fine. In fact, I was okay with it. Really, really okay with it too, if you didn’t notice.”

“I did—it’s just that… I don’t know. Maybe I’m too self-conscious because this is the one thing I’ve ever done that’s felt so right. Like, all the time I’m thinking about how much our relationship just fits. How we just fit. And I’ve never really thought about stuff like this until you came into my life and made me feel like I belong. Like I was supposed to fall in love with you. Now, I have something worth giving a shit about. It feels like… something. I—I can’t really put it into words, but what I’m getting at is that I don’t want to mess this up. I know it’s real sappy, but I feel like you’re the kind of person that’ll get me… or something. Yeah.”

You’re quiet. Momiji’s quiet. The whole room’s quiet. In that moment, you realize that you’ve fished out your raw emotions and, without thinking, laid them on top of your metaphorical table for her to see. You almost wish that she’d tease you about it already because her silence is killing you.

But without laughing, she holds her arms up and says, “C’mere.” She leans forward as you step forward to fill in the space between her hands. There, she pulls you in for an embrace.

“Hey, uh, Momiji—” you start to say, but you’re interrupted by a sharp clink of utensils hitting fine china behind your back. The wolf tengu, still holding you, is eating her pasta over your shoulder.

You pull away from her but otherwise say nothing and stare at her.

“What?” She covers her mouth, blushing. “I’m hungry, alright?”
>> No. 66567
File 153180986643.jpg - (382.71KB, 630x700, generic miji image.jpg) [iqdb]
Life goes on uneventfully. The most you have to say about the next few weeks is that business was as good as usual—and you mean it. You don’t know what made the Morning Spirits Pub suddenly thrive, and you have half a mind to find out why, but you’re not going to beat a dead gift horse with its own mouth. It’s popular enough to start hiring for a real bartender and not you, who’s only pretending at best. Unfortunately, that means real fiscal decisions. You’d feel more comfortable if the owner weren’t still missing, but there isn’t much of an alternative. Worst of all, since you’re the only one with any semblance of authority, you’re also the one that has to figure out how to hire people.

It’s honestly not that bad, but you love to complain. Who you hire isn’t critically important because there are only two requirements. The first is to be a better bartender than you are. Admittedly, you’re not too shabby for a guy without formal training, but that’s beside the point. The second is to be better with people than you are. Not the highest bar to climb, that’s for sure.

You’re in the middle of stealing sample interview questions off the internet when a knock on the door interrupts you. You look up and you don’t fucking believe it.

It’s a guy. Brown hair, brown eyes, big scraggly beard that’s screaming to be shaved. Either you’re going delusional or it’s Mark, that son of a bitch. Allegedly, he was your co-manager but he did fuck-all after you got promoted.

“Mark. What the—what the fuck? Where the hell have you been?” You’d be more reserved with your expletives, but the guy went full rogue on you while you were already understaffed. Now he's back again like he only ever left for a quick smoke break.

“Um.” He inches back, though you can’t blame him. Your eyes are laser-beaming him with exasperation. “I’ve been working.”

“Working? You haven’t shown up in over a year!”

“I, uh, what?” He mulls over your words for a bit. Then he gets it—which is good because you sure don’t. “Oh. My uncle left you out to dry, didn’t he?”

“Your uncle?”

“The owner of Morning Spirits.” Mark lifts a finger over to a chair adjacent to your desk. “May I?”

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” Mark says, planting himself down. He tilts his chair back and sways as he bobs his leg restlessly up and down. “Do you want the short explanation or the long one?”

“The short one, please. I’d rather not hear the excuses you have. Just give me the necessary details and not the bullshit.”

“I didn’t like the job, and I wasn’t cut out for it anyway, so I left. I told my uncle that I was leaving the Morning Spirits a long time ago, and I figured that he’d relay that over to you.”

“Couldn’t you have told, I dunno, your co-manager? The guy you pushed all your work onto?”

“I didn’t figure that you’d stay. And… that was my bad. But I wanted out. When I started working for the Morning Spirits, I told my uncle that I’d only work under him until I found a real job—no offense, by the way—and I’d leave as soon as I did. So I did, and I left. I had a wife and a kid to take care of, and I didn’t see a future here. I thought that the place wouldn’t last, so I jumped ship. And I thought that you’d do the same.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Sorry,” he says, face swarming with guilt. “Really, I am. I didn’t mean to disappear on you like that and leave you to do all the work. But I left the city for another job because I didn’t think that the pub would last another month.”

“I thought the same, to be honest.”

“My uncle practically let this whole place fall apart. I’m honestly surprised it’s still running.”

“You can thank me for that. But it really feels like it’ll close down any day now. I’m no business expert, but doesn’t the owner have to do, I dunno, heavy paperwork to keep the thing going?”

“Yes he does. And I’ll be frank: I haven’t talked to my uncle in a while so I don’t know what’s happening on his end.”

“That’s not very reassuring, you know.”

“Look,” he says, adopting a softer tone, “You don’t deserve working in this hellhole. If you want, I could help you out. I could get you an interview with my company, maybe.”

“Thanks, but I’m good. Despite all the shit that happens, I like being here. And I’m not saying that just because we’re finally on the cusp of breaking even. It helps that everybody else on staff is… reasonable, more or less. So, as their boss, I can’t just ditch them like the pub owner did.”

“What happened to the Gallagher that didn’t give a damn about employee loyalty? The one that said, ‘I’m gonna leave this sorry place as soon as I can’?”

“That Gallagher’s dead, Mark.”

“Well I’ll be. Never thought I’d say this to you, but you’re a good guy.”

“I’d love to echo the sentiment, but I’m still a little peeved at you for going completely AWOL on me.”

“That’s fair.” He unpockets a pack of cigarettes and thumbs it open, letting a single one peek out from its cover. “Want one?”

“There’s no smoking here,” you say.

“I figured as much,” he says, tucking the carton back into his pants.

“Now, pleasantries aside—and I don’t want to be rude but—why are you here?”

“I don’t really know.” Mark sinks a little further into his chair and adopts a more weary look. “I just saw the Morning Spirits still open and I was in the area, so I thought, ‘Hey, what the heck, I’ll go inside and see who’s around.’ Turns out, I don’t know any of the staff anymore—except you, that is. Funny how that happens. I didn’t really expect to see you still here. And here we are. It’s loony how fast a place can change.”

There was some point, which you must have obviously missed, where the Morning Spirits Pub stopped being a flaming pile of shit and became a regular pile of shit. The customers are less seedy nowadays. They’re not awful—just a bunch of alcoholics. When compared to the wife-beaters, the public dick-lickers, and the runaway whoevers, you’d take the miserable dudes who can’t keep their mouths shut over the dudes who try and fight your cook.

You laugh a little. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
>> No. 66568
I wanted to end this update with a vote, but I feel like I've been taking an eternity trying to get this post out so this is all you get for now.
>> No. 66570
That'll be a 350 dollar fine, Molar.
>> No. 66571
File 153185540311.jpg - (357.75KB, 585x646, Inubashiri_Momiji_full_1923047.jpg) [iqdb]
Yay! It's alive! I knew you wouldn't let us down.

Some people said, Malor is a piece of shit who can't keep a promise to save his life and I, uh, agreed. But deep down I knew I was wrong! Go team Valor!
>> No. 66573
File 153186008672.jpg - (84.62KB, 421x406, galmax.jpg) [iqdb]
>“I’ve never really thought about stuff like this until you came into my life and made me feel like I belong. Like I was supposed to fall in love with you.”
You’re in a fanfiction story, Gal.
>“The truth was a burning pink blush working across my face. Sappy moments glimpsed around the edges of inexplicable time-skips. Constant omissions of everyday occurrence to focus on the few moments spent with my love interest. The paranoid feel of someone controlling my every move.”
>“All of my past was fragmented still shots, words grouped into infrequent updates like chapters in a book.”
>“I was in a fanfiction story. Funny as hell, it was the most horrible thing I could think of.”
>> No. 66574
File 153188525931.jpg - (26.05KB, 509x339, the measure of a writefag.jpg) [iqdb]
Guys. Guys I've got it. We must hold a gathering of the congregation of the United Holy Church of the Awoo here in this thread, in celebration of the return of our Lord and Saviour.

And we shall call it a Molar Mass.
>> No. 66575
you done good marol
>> No. 67183
File 154217103342.jpg - (142.54KB, 850x1063, nanowrimo-13.jpg) [iqdb]
“How have the customers been treating you?” says Mark.

“Enough to tip me,” you reply back. Surprisingly, it’s been a while since you’ve been treated like complete shit. You still get a “fuck off, cunt” every once in a while, but people actually come to the bar to get a drink instead of making a beeline to the waitresses.

“They tip you?” He laughs. “This is seriously a different place now, isn’t it?”

“Tell me about it. And get this—our cook? Hasn’t left yet.”


“But to be fair, our cook can kick anybody’s ass. First day of the job, right? There’s this real belligerent customer, and he demands to see the cook. She comes out, and he complains. The usual, but he gets ready to do something funny, and she grabs him by the shoulder and just nelson slams the guy.”

“I told you that we’d keep a cook around if they knew self-defense.”

“No, I said that. You just agreed.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t often that we agreed on something. So, it must have been a sound decision.”

“Don’t spin it as if you actually did something.”

“Alright, alright,” he says, chuckling. “You’re right. I didn’t. I’ll admit that. But it’s fun messing with you. Just watching your reactions makes me remember the good old days.”

“You mean back when this place was a complete shithole?”

“Yeah, but it was a complete shithole with you, me, and Jasmine. Us three—I miss the times we were all together.”

“Maybe you do. Nowadays, I rather like my staff. Sure, all of them are a complete mess, but you know what? I appreciate that. At least they’re honest about themselves.”

“So you didn’t like me and Jasmine?” Mark wipes a fake tear off his eye. “Really stings, it does.”

“You left without a word. And our ex-boss? Yeah, she’s self-explanatory.”

“Fair point.” Mark leans up from his chair, looking around. “Come to think of it, where did Jasmine go? Did she split like me?”

“Who knows? I don’t really care.”

“Didn’t you two have a thing together?”

“No,” you say. “We didn’t.”

“Hey, Gallagher.” Mark adopts a softer look on his face. It’s a bit unsettling. “You’re more well spoken nowadays. I thought that you’d be the same since the last time we talked, but you’ve grown—good on you.”

“You were always the one who needed to grow up a bit,” you say, shaking your head.

You part with Mark amicably, which must have been a first in your lifetime. You’re still thrown off about it—he was about the last person you thought you’d see today. You spent most of your time hating the guy when the two of you were co-managers, but now you’re assailed with a strange feeling of indifference. And here you thought you’d never settle that grudge with him. Funny how that works. But, if you’re being honest, you can’t say that you suddenly love the guy now.

Your conversation with him makes you think about Momiji. No surprise there, since she’s apparently all you think about. But when was the last time she had to deal with a shitty customer? Aside from her first week here, you don’t actually remember. Is this what it’s like to be successful? Relatively speaking, business is booming. But if you want to keep it relative, then the Morning Spirits isn’t quite in the clear yet. If you had to compare to anywhere else, it isn’t exactly the most thriving place out there.

You see Mark out of your office with a wave, and hopefully, that’s the last you see of him. You associate him with too many bad memories, so it’s probably better off that way. Of course, as Mark leaves, nobody bats an eye except Lily, who does a quick double take before rushing up to you, rattling on with unfinished “who’s” and “what’s.”

“Was that Mark?” Lily finally completes her thought. “He was here?”

Cassie, noticing the commotion, decides to join you and Lily. “What’s happening?”

“The co-manager—”

“Former co-manager,” you interject.

“Former co-manager—he just passed by!”

“And?” Cassie asks.

“And nothing,” you say. “We just talked.”

“What? That’s it?” Cassie pouts. A customer motions to her, an obvious frown on his face. “Uh. I should get back.”

Lily looks back to make sure that she isn’t needed before turning to you. “So what did Mark want?”

“I don’t really know. We just talked about the past, and how the bar’s been holding up nowadays.”

“Really?” She’s got this look like she doesn’t believe you. But honestly, you’re not sure if you’d believe yourself either. “I thought you always hated him? I remember one day—it was a really slow day, I think—you spent an entire day telling me how you were going to kill him.”

‘Yeah, but that was then, and this is now. It was a complete shitshow back when we were working together, and I get that he wanted to bail, but really? Guy just goes running and I have to do twice the work.” You heave a deep sigh—one that you’ve been saving since you became co-manager. “I just don’t care enough to hate him anymore. Well, actually, I still do—just a lot less now. And I’d love to say that he’s a good guy, but I just can’t. Anyway, today isn’t a slow day, and I know you want any excuse to get out of work, so I’m going to shut up and not give you that satisfaction.”

“Got it.” Lily winks. “Let me know whenever you need to vent again.”

“No thanks. And I’m not venting,” you say, though it feels more like a self-affirmation because you don’t know if Lily heard that last bit.

As you mindlessly take care of the bar and its customers, you spend the rest of the day mentally figuring out where you should look for extra staff. You know a couple of people who are great bartenders, but that’s also the problem: They’re great bartenders. In a dumpster town like this, bartenders are never without a job—and great ones more so. Once closing time hits, you decide that you should stop thinking about it so much and just slap a “Help Wanted” sign near the entrance. Apparently, taking an entire day to figure out something you should’ve done in seconds is why you’re manager.

After your obligatory goodbyes, you’re in the middle of locking up outside when you see Momiji come up and place a casual hand on the door, leaning on it slightly.

“Come here often?” she says, winking.

You unlock the door she’s leaning on, and she leans straight into the entrance, almost toppling over. Got her good, didn’t you? You watch her smugly as she walks out the door, a gigantic pout on her face.

“So, come here often?” you repeat back as you lock the door.

“Very funny. You only get a free pass because I find you the most tolerable out of anyone.”

“Same to you. You’re very tolerable.”

“You can’t get me with cheap flattery.” But despite what she says, Momiji laughs and takes your hand in hers. “Come on. Let’s go home already.”
>> No. 67185
Don't think I didn't see this, Mueller.

I'm so happy.
>> No. 67186
>> No. 67347
File 154363832745.jpg - (109.87KB, 850x1020, nanowrimo-31.jpg) [iqdb]
It’s still a strange feeling to come back home exhausted. Ever since business’s been gaining traction, you’ve been coming back with sleep on your mind. It’s definitely the work catching up to you—all these years of doing nothing behind the counter has made you awful at doing your job. Go figure, right? Of course, now that you have standards to uphold, you’re doing your god damn best to give your all—that being about eighty-five percent—but it’s been taking a toll on your energy. You remedy that by doing the worst possible thing: Napping right after work to throw off your circadian rhythm.

Momiji’s been doing the same, but you think she only does it so that she can cuddle next to you while you’re sleeping. You appreciate how cute that is, but at the same time, you’d prefer her to keep her hands to herself because she emits heat like a fucking radiator. It’s nice to wake up to Momiji next to you, but every time you do so, you feel like you’ve woken up in the middle of the desert. A soft, wolfy desert, but a desert nonetheless.

Today, though, you feel good—thoughts of fixing your erratic sleeping schedule come to mind, but you seriously doubt that you can get back to sleeping at one A.M. on the regular. Guess you’ll have to just live with it.

Momiji’s sprawled out on the couch, resting her head on your lap as you stroke her hair idly.

“Hey, Miji. Want to do anything tonight?”

“Yeah.” She plays with one of the buttons on your shirt. “Oh, I got something. How about, today, we do nothing and laze around on the couch?”

You stifle a yawn. “Sounds good. Keep me awake, though. I want to stop feeling like dogshit in the morning.”

“I don’t think that fixing your sleep schedule will do you any better. You’re definitely not a morning person. Or an afternoon person. Or an evening person too, for that matter.”

“I’m a one-to-four-AM person, how about that?” You rest your head on one of the couch cushions, and, little by little, you let your eyes close. But a sharp jab to your side jolts you alert. You look down to see Momiji snickering.

“Took you about all of thirty seconds to start falling asleep, hun.”

“...Who are you calling a ‘Hun’?”

“What? You don’t like it?”

“I can’t say that I do. The only people who say ‘hun’ are pro-Attila or lanky old waitresses at a ten dollar diner.”

“Okay.” Momiji purses her lips as she looks to the ceiling in thought. “Then how about ‘babe’?”

“Saying ‘babe’ makes me feel like I’m being hit on.”

“Darling?” As soon as the word leaves her mouth, Momiji’s vehemently shaking her head, almost falling in between the couch cushions as she does so. “Nope, never mind. Sounded as cheesy as I thought it did in my head.”

“I’m already embarrassed for you.” You rub your neck. “Maybe we should just stick with ‘Gally’ and ‘Miji.’”

“Yeah. Let’s do that.” She laughs out her awkwardness. “Studman.”

“Two can play at that game, baby-doll.”


“Foxy mama.”




The two of you stare at each other until it becomes uncomfortable. You’d say that it’s a problematic moment, but her eyes wander away and peer into the bedroom. Then she’s red-faced, probably thinking the same thing you’re thinking about.

You prompt her. “Want to, um…”

“Yeah,” she says quickly, lifting her head out of your lap. “That. Let’s, uh, yeah—that.”

You smile and take her hand to lead her out of the living room.

You regret everything. Now you’re twice as tired, and all motivation to do anything is now long gone. Still, given the chance, you’d do it again, so maybe you’re not as remorseful as you thought you were going to be.

“Miji, want to do something tomorrow?”

“Hmm?” She’s busy putting a shirt back on. “I actually can’t. Lily invited me to go drink with a couple of her friends, so I decided to go along. Is the day after good?”

“Yeah,” you reply back automatically. Then you process what she said. “Wait, you said Lily invited you?”

“Yep. She said that she’ll be bringing Rylee along, too.”

“I see.” Momiji’s acting all nonchalant about it, but you can’t do the same. Maybe you’re just being an overly-sensitive twat, but you’re still not fully at ease around Lily. Sure, it happened a while ago, but it’s not something you can readily forget. But to think that she invited Momiji to drink with her friends—you don’t get women. “Have fun.”

“Don’t worry.” Momiji plops back down next to you when she’s done covering herself up. “We can do something the day after!”


But that begs the question: What are you going to do tomorrow? Maybe you could get Momiji something—you are never good at picking a present for somebody that isn't yourself, but it can’t hurt to find something nice for her. Now all you need to do is find an excuse to give Momiji a gift.

[ ] Convenience. Something like a phone would make life easier for the both of you.
[ ] Sales. You know that it's around the time that university students start spring semester, and laptops for college-bound students are relatively cheap. Therefore, you “had to buy it.”
[ ] You don't need an excuse to give her something that would look nice on her, right?
>> No. 67348
[x] Convenience. Something like a phone would make life easier for the both of you.
>> No. 67349
[x] Convenience. Something like a phone would make life easier for the both of you.
>> No. 67350
[x] Convenience. Something like a phone would make life easier for the both of you.
>> No. 67351
[x] You don't need an excuse to give her something that would look nice on her, right?

An Excuse for A Gift
>> No. 67352
[x] Convenience. Something like a phone would make life easier for the both of you.
Momiji was phone
>> No. 67354
[ ] Convenience. Something like a phone would make life easier for the both of you.
>> No. 67356
[x] Convenience. Something like a phone would make life easier for the both of you.

has to have a camera though, for the potential of lewd selfies.
>> No. 67357
File 154375197850.jpg - (214.74KB, 960x960, b52.jpg) [iqdb]
>> No. 67359
With a phone you can remain in contact. And, considering they're pretty poor, a practical gift is almost always the better choice.

It just happens that, in this case, it is also the most romantic one.

Do want Awoo doing a shellfish

[x] Phone.
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