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/qst/ - Quests

File: hellyeahniggo.jpg (88 KB, 650x818)
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Are you shy? Cringy? Do you sperg more than daily? When night falls and you finish that fat
hamburger, do you go to bed without washing your teeth?

Are you stiff when you talk?

Do you avoid people?

Are hoodies your clothes of choice? Yes.



A small room, white curtains, anime posters, a chair full of clothes; a desktop PC. Home. Your
safe, safe haven.

But you are not lonely, however. A lovely lady with goofy manners in a pajama is sitting right
over your legs, picking her teeth, weighting nothing at all. She doesn't exist. Snacks, how
you've taken to call her, is but a figment of your imagination, the voice of reason given
flesh. Figurative flesh. Metaphorical flesh, that you used to masturbate to. Until you got so
used to her face and image that you just started talking to her; and she talked back. And
now she's always there, sitting in odd places or poking people in the face. After some heavy
scares and paranoia, you decided you'd rather be crazy than lonely. So her presence is, if
foreboding, soothing enough to be worth it.

After all, Snacks possesses a single attribute that continues to baffle you; she's kind.

-Continued next post-
And you are late to school. Weren't because of Snacks, the bus would have taken you to,
perhaps, a better place, but her warning came just in time for you to get an arm trough the
door gap to stop it from closing in front of your face.

Yet, here you are. In the classroom.

It's wide. Too wide, for this many students. Scattered, the school benches act as islands
and archipelagos, the groups joined together making the emptiness around them easy to be
felt. Of course, you are an island. Behind an archipielago, which is between you and the
blackboard. Not that there's anything wrong with that, this place is safe and you barely ever
get talked to; it's just that it's a pain in the ass when your so soft-spoken teacher, who almost
truly and literally whispers her lessons gives her English class. Which has driven the whole
class to learn at least the very basics of Portuguese, since she's in the wrong school but
nobody wants to tell her.

"VOCE MUITO LIXO FILO DA PUTA," the words echo across the classroom, truly echoing
from another side of the planet.

You don't mind; yet sigh. It's a day; another day. Snacks is kneeling next to one of the girls,
a short one with white hair and a green beret. She seems intent to listen to their conversation,
so you assume that you are hearing it, too... somehow.

A girl with vast, frizzled blonde hair grabs your Gundam figurine all of a sudden, her eyes a bit
too big for her face, her face a bit too old for her body.

"So what's this?" she asks, and it's Valeria, as she turns your robot round and round. This girl,
you recall, is seriously fucking social, the kind whose motto is "I do what I want".

You are sweating. Somewhere, the teacher is speaking.

>Take off your clothes. All of them. This could be it.
>Tell her that you love her. Grab her hand. Walk her to the front of the classroom, propose.
>Stay completely, absolutely, perfectly still. No matter what.
>>take off your clothes, all of them
"Oh.. uh. Its... Like an action figure or... Something."

And the sweat is so sticky, so warm- so not comfortable. Face to face with the girl, you
don't give her an answer. Instead, to her cold surprise, you take off your black Heat Ledger
shirt in one fell swooping motion- and all she does is stare in frozen awe. Behind her, Snacks
hold her arms in front of her chest like a cross, whispering over and over, "Oh.. uh. Its... Like
an action figure or... Something. Oh... uh... It's Like an action..."

Dragging your stare back into Valeria feels like pushing one of those square wheels from the
caveman era, as the cool breeze from the endless sea, scatters through your naked chest.

"You are a an action figure," your face stiff, your eyes kinda lost in hers. "You are an action
figure, hahaha!" you wink at Valeria, then wink again for good measure.

Who just stares you down, her lips arching down until someone calls her. She leaves your
Neptunia-faced Gundam over your desk and heads towards one of the northern
archipielagos, the one more to the west. Gasping, you put on your shirt with the Joker
again. You glance around sharply, looking around as fast as you can; nobody is looking.
Good. Right next to you, though, Snacks lets out a deep sigh.


The rest of the class goes on uneventfully. The pale, tall English Teacher didn't notice the door
was closed and, since she was waving at the students, she smashed her head against it.
Nobody laughed. A short, blonde hair with glasses dashed from her seat, helped the
teacher leave and waved her goodbye as she left. Today, it's two classes in a row and then
freedom since the third teacher, the one from Physics, fell asleep in the lobby. And since she
works three jobs and goes to college, nobody had the heart to wake her up.

The one that almost literally blasts through the door is the Manners and Subtleties teacher, his
massive afro struggles against the top of the door only to just pop in as she throttles to the
front of the classroom. You gulp, just like in your favorite animes; this guy has a nasty habit
of calling people to talk in front of the classroom.

Yet you are distracted from your impending doom by waving hair, and it's between gold and
scarlet, and oh so silky. It belongs to your current crush... just thinking about her makes
you blush. Mina. That's how her friends call her. You don't recall ever seeing her small, as you
don't, can't recall, she ever seeming restless. Top score of the class, kinda tall, boobs bigger
than average; it's like her body was in a rush to evolve. And when you are in the bathroom,
alone after a meal, you can't think of her like a piece of meat, you can't even bring yourself to
picture her naked. No. What you want is not sex, is not love. What your deepest core asks
for you, is to have Mina beat the everliving shit out of you. You breathe out, slowly; only the
thought is enough to melt you.

"Trish Suhu", Professor Walker booms out, and that's not your name. A fit, yet lanky girl in
yellow sports clothes trips her way across the seats to the blackboard, then turns towards the
class. Her face is a bit stiff, her hair is a dull gold, her eyelids seem to be failing and she
wears a ponytail. Trish is dwarfed by the teacher, a 6 feet tall black man with sunglasses
who went back to the 70s to fetch his clothes. "Adolph Jockston," he shouts.

A man rises from its chair. Not a boy; a man, even if he /is/ a boy, even if he a year younger
than you are. This is the guy that hangs out with Mina all the time, the only who sticks with
her, the only one she gets mad at. Adolph towers his way across the seas, then stands
next to Trish. Blonde, long hair, almost six feet tall as well, fully developed muscles
EVERYWHERE; the man is an adonis. Yet, with the face of a child.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand Emile Suisan! C'mere pal, bring your butt." You look around for
Emile Suisan across the many archipelagos, only to finally realize that Emile is in an island.

Your island.

And now everyone is staring at you.

>Stay completely, absolutely, perfectly still. No matter what. Oh fuck.
>Dance your way to the front of the classroom. You are already fucked, might as well go down in style.
>Dance your way to the front of the classroom. You are already fucked, might as well go down in style.
Is there an archive for this or do we start neck deep in autism?
Raging, scorching autismo.
I like that this quest feels like one we should choose the spergiest actions for
We could at least make an effort to be realistic autism, as opposed to greentext autism.

>Stay completely, perfectly, absolutely still
Im going to sleep, vote is up until tomorrow morning. Ill be running all day also, because fuckl yeah time.
>Dance your way to the front of the classroom. You are already fucked, might as well go down in style.

By the way, is there a reason for the line breaks the way they are?
This is tempting, but then greentext autism sounds even more tempting.

>Dance your way to the front of the classroom. You are already fucked, might as well go down in style.
It's probably going to look incredibly awkward and terrible though.

"V-valhalla," you mumble under your breath as tiny tears mix your sweat, yet all you do is
swallow. Then you stare at the teacher as if he was Freezer, and you were Goku. "Vaaal
halal!!!" You stand at once, fast enough shake your bench and send your cell phone and pencils
crashing into the floor, turning some of those faces into grimaces- but fuck that, wait till they
take a loot at /this/.

You strike one hand towards the heavens, one hand towards the ground. It's a subtle reference
to Hermeticism, "as above, so below", that you hope the scholars amidst the public will
appreciate and then talk to you later and have sex. You decide to go all the way across the
archipielago until you spot Snacks who's crossing her arms and shaking her head wildly,
so you opt to border it instead. And after picking between early 70s Disco and waltz, the best
dancing there is (both of which you know little) you decide to go freestyle all the way to the
blackboard, flailing your arms wildly here and there and shaking your butt like a teen pop star
on steroids. It's a long way; you seem to be doing great, though, because someone aiming
at you with his cellphone, and it's Adolph, right from in front of the blackboard. Like a good
performer, you stare straight into the eyes of your public as you go, wondering why most of
them look away and laugh.

"AUCH!" and that's when you manage to elbow one of the short girls in the temple, throwing her
green beret to the ground. Yet there's no time for that- for you are too busy shining.

As you finally reach Adolph, you realize the man has the biggest smile you've ever seen on
someone. You push your chest in pride; this was good. Yes. Actually, his face is shaking, all
red, and he's crying. Damn; maybe you got the /talent/.

Yet the professor shakes his head at you, maybe expecting you to lead a boring, routinary
career like Accountability. "Aight boys, today we get to see something new."

"FUCK YEAH, MAN" someone shouts from somewhere, sending the whole class into
giggles. Mina didn't even react, you notice.

"I wan all of you boys writin dis on your class books or stuff," Professor Walker says,
turning towards you. "Trish, get tha thing and write what I say."

"Do you also want coffee and a massage?" Trish's eye twitches. "How about a blowjob
while I'm at it? Don't leave the coffee on my head and it can be done."

"GIRL," the teacher booms at her, his afro shadowing Trish from the clouds, "This be
therapeutical or whatever! Gets fixed in your head, it's like the best study or some shit,

He turns towards the classroom, glaring at every single student until they nod. Then back
at Trish, who holds his stare.

"Me teacher, you good girl," he states, proud of the reality he made for himself. "Go get chalk."

"Go get chalk," Adolph repeats.

And she goes, not without grumbling.

"Adolph, boya," the teacher sings, "go pick up dem homeworks."

"Pffff," Adolph blurts out, "At least pay me, you fuck."

The teacher grins, and his teeth are white and shiny. "You get knowledge, boy! Was better
than that?" And he's tall and black and full of knowledge as if his afro was some kind of data

And Adolph heads deep into the archipelagos, and it's not easy because he's just so tall his
ass always ends up on someone's face when he bends.

Which leaves you, alone, in front of the classroom. At least eight inches away from the
teacher, who's now sitting on his desktop.

You feel the sweat.

"Aight, spasming-boy," you hear the teacher's voice, from very far away, "need you to pick
one of them nignogs and go get shit from the art storage.

"Why don't you pick yourself?" you would say, but you aren't Adolph, and you aren't Trish. So
you say nothing. Instead, you look at the scattered benches all across the sea that is the
classroom, to the crowd of faces, most of them are already turning to you. Most you aren't
familiar with... but you certainly aren't short on choices.

The sweat goes behind your neck.

>Pick the green beret girl; short, white hair, blue eyes. Might as well apologize.
>Pick the titan at the far end of the room, the guy you are /sure/ is twenty years older than he says. He apologized to you that once time a football broke your teeth, and that's nice.
>Pick the guy with the hat that's always with the little shy girl. He, eh, seems kinda menacing.
>Pick the little shy girl. She can't be a problem, and she could be a good wife.
>Pick Valeria, maybe talk about robots and have sex.
>Pick Romina, the short and very loving girl that's always with that one quiet, cold bitch.
>Pick the quiet, cold bitch.
>Pick Maximo, the guy that is ultra mega fucking massive and never, ever, says a word.
>Pick the tall girl that seems to completely disregard social structure.
>Pick Snacks; she has to count, and you'll be safe.
>Pick the teacher. Fuck you, teacher! What now?!
>Pick Minano never mind nonononono
>pick Snacks, she has to count
>>Pick the titan at the far end of the room, the guy you are /sure/ is twenty years older than he says. He apologized to you that once time a football broke your teeth, and that's nice.
>pick snacks
Your finger travels across the blurry faces, all of which, you are sure, dread the moment it stops.

Then it stops. Snacks stands in place like a deer under headlights, then turns around to see
who you picked. Once it becomes clear, she strafes from side to side, your finger following
her every move.

"S-snacks," you blurt out as if spitting a whole soap. "I pick Snacks."

Everyone looks around the general direction you are pointing, which leads straight to a massive,
big black guy doing bench presses on a big black machine. His white top tank is drenched,
and his skin is gleaming because of the sweat. Once he finishes his last repetition, with a
thunderous roar and the sound of clashing steel, the man looks around, quizzically, before
standing to his feet.

"Nigga," the teacher asks, "you Snacks?"

The man raises an eyebrow. "No?"

"Weeeel, can you?" the teacher insists, his feet shaking.

He looks around, gasping, before settling in a smile and a shrug. "Sure?"

"k, go with the boy," Walker says, and you soon find the black tower of a man towering
over you.


As you walk across the aisle with the massive, glorious dark goliath of man and muscle, you
study the "actual" Snacks intently. Her hair is wide, gold, messy, and puffy, as if a golden
cloud got stuck trying to eat her head. Two slim black lines balance with her at all times, one
over her head, and one across her waist, lines used to carefully craft proportion in human
figure. She hardly ever opens her eyes, and you found already that, when she does, is to add a
punch to whatever she says. Like that one time Snacks said you could be happy without being
a hero or slaying dragons for the King of Storms; her eyes are perfectly bleak.
Obviously, that must be because she sees through your eyes.

"You could say you want to go alone, next time," she says, and you feel her next to you.

"But I didn't want to go alone," you say, "I wanted to go with you."

"Hell yeah nigga, I can see why," 'Snacks' says, taking a good look at his own bicep. It's a
good bicep, you reckon, a strong bicep.

And the other Snacks sighs, her hand going through yours. "I'll always be with you. Don't
worry about that."

You turn to the guy, as a white guy with a girlfriend stops to gaze into his glorious abs.

>"I'm not talking to you."
>"That wasn't funny."
>"I got mine by masturbating."
>>"I'm not talking to you."
But he's still right.
Clearly, the gentleman has made a gesture. It would be rude of us not to reply in kind.

Take off your shirt and show off your body.
Shirt off
Flex on
Flex on

"I-I'm not talking to you," you manage to spit out, looking at the floor as you do so.

The black man blinks and looks around, he turns to one side and then to the other.
Meanwhile, Snacks, suddenly very ecstatic, waves fast at you, takes off her shirt (which
leaves her in a top tank) and flexes her arm as she strikes a pose, as well as a wink.

And you nod; then nod. You take off your shirt in one single fluid motion, the same way you
did in front of Valery. When the black man finally looks back at your her mouth gapes, as
you copy Snack's pose and give him a sharp stare. "I'm talking with /these/," you say.

Some students around stop to stare at you, clearly whispering among themselves. Giggling.
It takes a while, but 'Snacks' starts to giggle too.

"Aight man," he says, finally getting it together, and, without another word, walks away towards
the art storage room. You look at your own body and decide, silently, that all of your muscles
would be enough to be one of Ado's buttcheeks.

Then follow.


"So what do you do with the life, man?" 'Snacks' asks.

You open your mouth; then close it. It's quiet. Musical. The art storage room always gave you
this particular vibe, as if it was a very clever puzzle waiting for the right one. Always waiting,
waiting for a hundred years, waiting without rush. Dim sunlight falls from the window above,
bathing the pieces of the puzzle with humble light and white particles- a place away from
time. Canvas, chairs and maimed manikins rest over each other without meaning or pattern,
and you wonder if everytime someone comes to store something he just throws into the pile
before cleaning his hands. Snacks seem to like hiding between the tiny gaps of the big pile of
rubbish and, while she greets you with a smile every time you spot her, you can't help but
remember that scene from the "IT" movie with the sewer.

"Man, you ok?" he asks.

"I'm a writer. I write stuff, I write very cool stuff," you just blurt out, as you search for the
red can of paint that should be right under this crushed desktop.

"Oh, really?" you hear a black man say somewhere. "That's so cool, man, what do you
write about?"

"SCIENCE FICTION, MAN", you shout at him, smiling widely until he smiles back."I've got this
really awesome story and it has ships a-and it's really post-apocalyptic, like, everyone dies! It's
so cool!"

"Man what the fuck, I don't want everyone dying," he says, right before dead-lifting a
heavy manikin wearing full body plate armor. He gets it up to his chest, then bends again,
then blinks and stays stuck in place. Finally, he looks at you and smiles. "Habits," he says,
right before lifting the whole thing again. "Are there gyms in the gyms?"

"Man, you bet!" you lie. "What is life without reps, am I right?"

"Yeah," he says, still staring at your naked chest. He nods to himself, then goes back to
the pile.

You walk into the classroom right behind 'Snacks', who's clearly carrying way more than
you. Yet your fears vanish as you realize you've drawn no attention; all stares are fixed straight
into the blackboard, Mina's included.

You take a look at it, and your jaw drop.

It's beautiful, the blackboard trembles before every slash with chalk as Trish moves left and
right in a perfect trance. The shapes are wonderful, trimming with details and lines that
suggest way more than you can fit in your brain at once. It comes perfectly natural to you, then,
that you only realized it was a picture of Adolph having butt sex with the teacher, both shouting
like heroes of old age charging against the Titans. You look at Walker; the man is slowly
nodding to himself non-stop, a cigarette clinging from his hand. It's seriously complex and
definitively alluring.

This could be your chance to shine.

>Wipe the blackboard with your arms, then gloat about your victory.
>Start poking Trish as she works.
>Start drawing over her drawing.
>start poking trish as she draws
Ask her to become our draw-sensei
Who's walker?
>right before lifting the whole thing again. "Are there gyms in the gyms?"
Some next level exercise
>Start poking Trish as she works.
Draw ON the artist
2nd. We could use a sensei.

>Who's walker?
The Professor.
>right before lifting the whole thing again. "Are there gyms in the gyms?"
oh god I meant ships, this is beautiful

File: image.jpg (249 KB, 1692x1284)
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249 KB JPG
Tfw your so huge you need a ship to get from one machine to another

You start a slow, evil laugh, that manages to get some eyes on to you. 'Snacks' and Snacks
both stare as you take one of the pens from the bucket the black boy carries. And, sweating,
shaking, and still laughing maniacally, you stab Trish in the ribs with the pointy end. She
flinches, and stops; yet keeps on going in strife. As if the blackboard was a world. As if she was
the goddess born to look after it. And you stab and stab and stab and stab, laughing to one in
particular until the fittest Snacks grabs you from the back as you tried to draw a dick in Trish's
yellow sweater. Now you've truly drawn the attention, even Mina's, as you desperately
struggle your way out of the black arms. As Trish slowly turns to look at you, you stop
flailing to give her a knowing smile. The searing inferno in her eyes slowly fades to ash as she
studies you intently, and after staring straight into your soul for the better part of five seconds,

"W-wanna be my draw-sensei?" you blurt out.

Trish just walks away.

You smile towards the public; yet nobody smiles back.


The bell rings. You find yourself in your lone island of a bench. Everyone stands almost at
once, shouting "FUCKING FINALLY MAN", and only some of the quiet girl still sticking to
her seats to let everyone pass. After everyone has left, you stare straight into the blackboard;
Trish's drawing is still there. Nobody touched it. You recall Walker talking about framing it with
something, but nobody told you that you couldn't draw too. After all, nobody rules your
life; it's all yours.

Among a few other students, Adolph is still there, staring straight into the blackboard in
what you assume is utter bliss. Even from your island, you can see him licking his lips from time
to time, still taking pictures with his cellphone from every angle. Besides him, the warm girl
cold girl duo remains, eating lunch at the side and talking. 'Snacks' is also there doing squats,
talking with that weird tall girl with the weird grin.

And next to you, the actual Snacks sighs again. "My..."

>Talk to the duo.
>Talk to Adolph.
>Talk to the weird tall girl.
>Talk to 'Snacks'.
>Talk to Snacks.
>Draw over Trish's chalk masterpiece.
>Leave in silence.
>Talk to the duo.
>Draw over Trish's chalk masterpiece.
Draw a standing offer for a threesome, fail to specify genders.
>talk to snacks

Schreech it like the autist you are.

"SO WHAT DID I DO WRONG THIS TIME?" you pretty much shout to Snacks, who's sitting
next to you and frantically bouncing her standing index finger against her mouth. You
glance around; as you do, everyone stops staring at you. "So what did I do wrong this
time?" you whisper Snacks, leaning closer to her.

"You were bothering Trish while she did that pretty drawing," she answers. "I think you can
see that."

"But she's-" you lower your voice. "She's such an asshole, everyone should hate the

Snacks shakes her head. She barely towers over you, with maybe one head over your
height. "That's not how it works," she says. "Always consider why anyone does anything.
That's what matters the most."

"Because she's an asshooooooooole", you shake your hands as you state your point, now
more than a little annoyed. When people turn to look, you go back to whispering. "Why do you
always have to make everything so complicated?!"

Snacks scratches her cheek, pensively. "My, perhaps I should put it in terms less
complicated." You glare at her; she just smiles back. "Why were you bugging Trish just now?"

"Because assholes have to suffer?" You grab your head with both hands, dramatically. "Duh, I
already told you this."

"I know, I know", she nods."But what if everyone thought you did that only because you
wanted the attention?"

"W-well then they would be wrong, I didn't want attention at all, I did it for justice."

Snacks nods, giving her usual big smile. "What if Trish is that way because she thinks it's

"Then she's WRONG."

"Does that mean she's evil?"

You open your mouth widely, yet your brain feels like a broken clock. As if a tiny little rock
got stuck somewhere between the gears, and now nothing is moving.

As if to not give you the chance to retort, Snacks looks away.

>Talk to the duo.
>Talk to Adolph.
>Talk to the weird tall girl.
>Talk to 'Snacks'.
>Talk to Snacks.
>Draw over Trish's chalk masterpiece.
>Leave in silence.
>"Does that mean she's evil?"
I want to screech yes like a greentext autist, but Snack's is probably a manifestation of our subconscious to guide us into being less autistic for whatever good that'll do.

>>Talk to Snacks.
Apologize to our imaginary friend, and tell her we were only trying to do the right thing (in our minds that is).

>Leave in silence, sulking all the way. You plot for vengeance against the evil drawfag.

Just because you're a greentext autist doesn't mean that you have to be overt about it. Sometimes they do the opposite, and awkwardly rage quit in silence as they plot for their next attack. Just think of the Pooping Bandit, and you'll know what I mean.

"S-sorry," you almost burp, "I was just trying to do the right thing."

Snacks visibly lightens up at this. "Everyone is.
They are all trying to make sense, but it's not
easy. Like you!" She bobs her head towards the blackboard. "Like Trish".

"Like me," you say, nodding absent-mindedly. "Yeah."


You stand so fast your leg gets stuck under the desk, but few people turn to look. Fixing your
stance, you stare straight into the blackboard; evil or not, she has to pay. They will all see.
After picking your bag, you finally head for the exit and, perhaps for the first time on this day,
nobody even glances at you.


You walk towards the school's exit, which is a big green door almost clogged with people.
Squeezing your elbows into your body, you make your way across the sea of people. It's
finally time, blessed be, to head home for snacks and games, to be free to be yourself all
you want. The road is long and surrounds a big manor, which is hidden under small trees, too
green and too bright under the incandescent heat. You walk across the street to stay away
from the sun, to the side with the normal houses, trees, and trashcans.

"Autismo," you believe you might have heard something to your right, and once you turn you
find Trish, leaning against a wall, staring right at you from less than six feet away.

"Follow me," she says.

>Swallow; oblige.
>Gain distance. "W-what do you want?!"
>Ask Snacks for input.
>Swallow; oblige.

>Swallow; oblige

This could be the perfect time to catch her unawares. Just be sure that the drawfag isn't planning on taking you out as well. Plan accordingly, and soon victory will be yours, just like in Minecraft where you hissed like a creeper and blew up the admin's house. In real life.
>swallow, oblige
>wonder if snacks is a developing stand

You swallow- not because you need it, but because the animes do it- then nod. Slowly
Trish slightly raises an eyebrow at you, turns around, and turns in a corner. When you follow
her, you notice her ponytail heading inside a slim alley, dark and slim and trimming with
garbage. You wonder, as you follow Trish into the darkness, is Snacks is actually a stand in
development because Trish has been doing Muay Thai for the last seven years and you
could really, really use one right now.


However, the alley soon ends at a railing behind which there's nothing but sun and sea. Stepping
back into the light behind Trish, you are quick to notice that the railing is still far. The place is
vast, a big, lonely circle of stone big as a house, that connects back to the city only by a
stone street that spawns from the alley. Once inside the big stone circle, surrounded by the
railing, the only way back is though that street.

"This is it," you hear Trish say, as she calmly turns to you. "Pretty, isn't it? Nobody ever
comes here, so it's a good place to sit and draw."

"W-what do you want?" you ask, now a bit more than scared.

Trish glances to the side as if thinking about something. "Just tell me about you," she finally
says, now looking back at you.

"Eh, ok," you start, "I'm a writer."

"Good for you."

"I-I write science fiction," you say, then rush to smile. "It's really great stuff. I can bring my
book tomorrow if you want to read something."

"I'm not much into reading," she says, and face goes white as she walks... past you. Trish
stretches her arms towards the sky as if you weren't there and, after a long, shrill moan, she
turns back to you. "What else? What fucked you up this badly?"

"W-what do you mean?"

"I'm interested," she simply says, even a bit playfully. "I don't like retards, but I'd rather not
break every bone in your body and have you choke on your own teeth."

You freeze; Snack's eyes are wide open, fully white, which is a very unusual in her.

"So if I don't tell you," you finally manage to blurt out, "will you beat me?"

Trish looks away, then back at you. "No."

>Tell Trish about your past.
>Lie to Trish; she could fuck you over.
>Tell Trish "No."
>Run the fuck away.
>Eh, distract her, ask her stuff.
>Tell Trish about your tragic past
Clearly she was actually a tsundere all along, like in our animes
>Tell Trish about your past.
2nd. This makes perfect sense.

>Tell Trish about your tragic past
>Clearly she was actually a tsundere all along, like in our animes

As much as I love fucked up revenge plots, you guys are right. Our dear hero's an autist, not a yangire.

"...Ok", you say, almost stuttering.

Trish crosses her arms over her chest. You take a deep breath.

"I was bullied a lot in elementary," you start, trying to look at Trish in the eyes- and failing.
"Once, some boys came and..." you stop. Not out of fear or embarrassment, but because you
want to word this differently. Trish slightly tilts her head to the side, yet gives you room to
think. "I used to believe I was Sonic the Hedgehog." Both of Trish's eyebrows rise to the
top. "In fact, I used to run very very fast!" You jump and flail your legs as if you were running.
"So fast, nobody could ever catch me outside of school. The problem was when I had
nowhere to run."

"I see," Trish simply says.

"I write mainly about Sonic," you resume, "I write about Sonic and wars in the middle east."

"You mean, at the same time?"

"Yes," you nod, firmly. "I also study a lot about Muslim culture. I made a lot of pictures of Amy
Rose in a hijab and even less if you want to see." You wink at Trish.

Who seems to deflate. "Oh my fucking god," she states, politely.

"I never had any friends," you say, finally looking at her, "that until I met..."

You stop, again. Trish seems in pain, yet nods at you to go on. Right next to her, Snacks turns
to look at you, quizzically.

>Tell Trish about Snacks.
>Lie about Snacks.
>Until I met my STANDO

>Tell Trish about Snacks.

We've already chosen to go full autismo, why not go all the way. Besides, if the drawfag is a true friend, she won't care about Snacks, and if he has a normie freakout session, then you can continue on with your revenge plot.

>*she has a normie freakout session
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"...my STAND!" you finish, striking up a /pose/ to the best of your ability. The air feels cold as
Trish stares you down.

"S-snacks," and it's the very first time you actually say her name out loud, "is my Stand.
And she's right next to you. Shaking her head."

At least Trish glances to her side. Snacks glances back at her, and they both stare back
into you. "You mean, an imaginary friend," Trish says.


"And that is your only Friend."

"Yeah! She's a woman in pajamas, also. Blonde. Hair is all..." you get both hands over
your head then expand them to the sides. Trish's eyes follow your hands as you ruffle a
big ball of hair that isn't there.

Silence sets back in like a blanket falling in slow motion over the place.

"So you had, like," Trish finally breaks the silence, and for that, you are grateful, "no social
contact. At all."

You smile widely, too widely in fact. "Eh, no."


"I live alone."

"Since when?"

"I live with my mother," you admit, without the slightest hint of guilt.

"Ooook...." Trish drags the word. "So you used to dress like Sonic and run around the school."

"Y-yeah, haha!"

"And you kept that going for, what reason?" she asks, a bit sharply.

You look at the side, then to the other; then shrug. Blonde hair falling from both sides of her
face, Trish just stares you down like pic related, and yes I drew that shit even if I had to copy.

"What the fuck," she asks, but not to you.

>Write In.
>Go home.
Now, am I going to get beaten up, or not?
Get beaten up
Don't enjoy it actually enjoy it too much
2nd. The moment of decision falls upon Trish's ruffled shoulders now.
>actually enjoy it too much
Is this when Anon is revealed to be a masochist?

You wonder if you should talk to Trish since it's like her brains are going full-throttle. It doesn't
take you long to assume, however, that she won't be going down there anytime soon.

"So, hey," you ask, and your forehead feels slippery, "are you going to hit me?"

This seems to drag her down from Fantasy Land, the only clue being her irises getting fixed
on you.

"I don't want to hit you," Trish says, not moving an inch. "I'm just glad I'm not you."


"So you are /that/ fucked up, then," Trish says, then scratches her cheek almost automatically.
"Look, I had this idea. And I'm not sure it's going to work, but soon nobody will want to put
up with your shit any longer, so you best take me seriously."

"Ok?" you do your best to seem offended, looking around and shaking your head at

"Hitting the gym won't make you any less autistic," Trish says, "and talking with people
will make both your life and theirs a pain in the ass." She sighs. Hard. It's the sigh of a lifetime
that you behold, and it takes her a while to get it back together. "The middle ground is having
someone put up with your shit," Trish says, finally, "and walk you though what means to be
a normal, functioning human being. If your mother can't pull out that shit, and nobody
does," Trish gives you a hard, yet calm stare, "then everyone you meet will have to endure
your abysmal, scorching autismo for the rest of your life."

It's like she's waiting for you to say something; you have nothing to say. Slowly, you nod at her.

Her stare hardens. "I'm willing to teach you shit only and ONLY as long as you pay me. Are we

You allow your brain to absorb this new information like a sponge. "Wait," you say,
"how much?"

Trish says the number. It's not that big.

"Part of the deal," she goes on, "is that you are going to have to get a part-time job. That, I can
arrange." Yet Trish seems to be losing strength with every consecutive word.

...Snacks looks at you; she's shining harder than ever, eyes wide open. As for you, this is
just... too sudden.

And you don't trust this girl /at all/.

>Write in.
Be skeptical, agree but prepare for a backstab, or frontstab, or many stabs.
And maby wear armor, or if no armor an extra layer of clothing, that must be able to block something... Right?
>>Write in.
>Ask Snacks for her input and advice.
We paranoid now?
Always, never know if one of them is Dr. Robotnick in disguise.

You open your mouth; then close it. Then turn your sight from Trish to Snacks, who right now
feels a lot like the after-image of watching a very intense light, but with a smile and
pajamas. Behind her, the horizon splits the blue into sea and sky.

"H-hey, Snacks?" you ask, stuttering yet without doubt, "what should I do?"

"What do you want to do?" Snacks asks. "If Trish isn't lying, it may be your only way out."

"Out of what?"

"Out of what?" Trish raises an eyebrow.

"Out of your head," Snacks states, bluntly. Her features soften, then. "Emile? It's not going to
be easy. You are far too deep, and the only way out is to claw your way out of this pit."

"Yeah, that sounds really tempting," you rumble.

"With this girl," Snacks goes on, relentlessly, "it might be easier. A lot easier. And the way I see
it, even if she's desperate for money, even if she's messing with you or taking advantage of
you, it's worth a chance."

"Oh come on, I can't be that fucked up," you protest.

Snacks.. stares at you in silence, then grins towards the floor with an empty grin.

"You are talking with her, aren't you?" Trish says, and she's shaking her head. "Holy fuck;
you are. Sorry, I'm really starting to regret this..."

>"Wait! Ok! I'll try."
>"Good for you, I've got Snacks already."
>Laugh maniacally.
>Write in.
>>"Wait! Ok! I'll try."
Still prepare for betrayal.
That's the reason I wore an unbuttoned hawaiian shirt over a t shirt in school, if I ran from somebody and they grabbed me I could lose the shirt and not be topless.
Or Robbie Rotten
>"Wait! OK! I'll try!"

It's like Snacks said. The train had left a long, very long time ago, but you found one of those
manual rail carts. You may never, ever, catch up with the train, but it will take you places.
And Snacks will always be there for you, pulling the lever at the other side of the cart.

Yet as you dreamed of trains and rails, Trish was already leaving, her ponytail further away
by the second.

"W-WAIT!" you shout, and this makes her turn. A cart is still something, after all. "Ok! I'll try!"

"Fuck that, I've changed my mind," Trish says, turning away from you. And as you watch her
ponytail go, you hear her say: "I've got enough shit on my own."

You just watch her go, the ponytail finally fading into the dark alley.

Yet Snacks is still beaming. "Don't worry," she says, "we'll see her tomorrow."

Aight niggas, I'm sleepy. I was wondering If I should keep posting here or start a new thread since this one is about to sink. Also feedback, ask me shit, etc.
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Mfy the manual rail cart leaves us behind.

What made you want to do this quest?

Wouldn't Snacks be a tulpa?

What type of games does our character have?

How does our mom look?

Does the house we live in have a basement.

If you answered these questions already, sorry for asking them, I have C.R.S. Can't Remember Shit
>What made you want to do this quest?
I like writing, it feels like letting the dogs out of their leash.

>Wouldn't Snacks be a tulpa?
Nah, she's truly an imaginary friend. You've fapped to her before, you'd know.

>What type of games does our character have?
A shit fucking load of JRPGs, starting with Disgaea, all the way through the Atlus library including Phantom Brave and Makai Kingdom and then going straight to the Personas. Also Catherine. You dislike Metal Gear Solid because the people there look "too real", and you fucking suck ass at Smash Brothers.

>How does our mom look?
Slender, a bit tall, a bit skinny, blonde like Snacks, and actually the single most fucking beautiful character in the cast. She's extremely talkative, but a bit dumb.

>Does the house we live in have a basement?
Yes, and she wouldn't let you live in it. You've got your own room on the second floor.

Also ask away, I'm getting tea.
>You've fapped to her before, you'd know.
Don't know what that means, and I'm afraid to ask.

Can't think of more questions, so.
>I'm getting tea.
Iced or hot.
Hot, and it means you can change her clothes at will. Good night!
Good night op, and everyone else too.
Aight niggas, anyone here? Should I keep going with this?
I'm here.
If you don't keep going, I'm going to be upset. I'll fume and grumble and possibly reeeee a little bit.
Can we still catch up to the train?
Aight, let me get my shit together.

It's a new day; anything could happen. But maybe, you think, maybe it should happen
something like five minutes later. You are snoozing, and it feels so nice. Yet when you
close your eyes in blissful peace Snacks is staring at you from the endless black void,
hands on her waist as she leans towards you, squinting her eyes. Lifting your eyelids,
however, takes a series of low weight reps before you finally warm up to open your eyes

And, of course, she's still there.


"It's a new day!" she says out loud, arms towards the sky. "Up, up, up, up; today could
be nice."

You smash your head against the pillow. "Just five more minutes," you babble.

When you close your eyes, she isn't there. It's lonely, peaceful, and warm. It makes you smile;
what could possibly be better than this?


You are running half an hour late to school, and you can already picture each and every one of
their faces staring at you as you enter the classroom. Once next to the door, you peek
inside and hesitate; the whole classroom is there, actually focused in what the Physics
Teacher, Maki, is saying. It's like she talks in slow-motion, but barely, as she moves from
side to side in her black duster and points at the blackboard behind her.

Ffffuck. They are paying attention. You feel sweat go down your face.

>Time for ninja skills; maybe they won't notice you coming.
>You are already getting spotted, so fuck it. Time to put up a show!
>Sneak in, and the teacher's butt. You'll be the hero.
>>Time for ninja skills; maybe they won't notice you coming.
Keep your head down, don't look anyone in the eye, and walk directly to your seat.
>Ninja SkillZ
>Time for ninja skills; maybe they won't notice you coming.

>Ninja Skrillex ftw

I get the vibe my voters are one guy and his three imaginary friends lol.

>>Time for ninja skills; maybe they won't notice you coming.
>I get the vibe my voters are one guy and his three imaginary friends lol.
Didn't you know, anon? We're all the imaginary friends to one guy.
If I'm someone's imaginary friend, their imagination sucks.
>Time for ninja skills; maybe they won't notice you coming.

You must not be caught under any circumstances. It's imperative, for the sake of
the Empire and for the glory of your dark Lord Eaeron. Yet reality finds you neither a rogue nor
an assassin, just a teenager about to interrupt a class, and you are starting to feel it in your

You take a deep, deep breath. Snacks pats you in the head as you do, smiling and unlike the
rest world you can feel her.

You close your eyes and walk in, not looking at anyone, not thinking about anything, not-

"Emile," you keep walking, keep- "Emile!"

It was loud enough, and it was her voice. Ffffffffffffffffuuuuck; and you were so close. You
face your destiny, smiling as if your heroic sacrifice were to be remembered at least a few
decades from now. "Y-yes"

From the other side of the world, Maki stares straight into your soul. "Why are you late?", she
asks. Black bags hide under her eyes, and she bears all the signs of being struggling against
nights without sleep- somehow winning.

And you puff your cheeks. "Because fuck you, that's why!"

That smile of yours only lasts until you fully, completely realize what you just said. As if your
limbs were rocks, you slowly, slowly drag to your bench island, take off your bag, and sit
down. You fumble inside of the Death Note bag for a while, opening and closing it, looking for
something that was never there and you might really need. And you never, ever look up again,
not even once the Physics teacher resumed her class.


This is going to be a long one. Apparently, Maki had agreed to recover her lost class by covering
for one of the other teachers, the big fat guy from Robotics, who looks astoundedly similar
to your old nemesis "the Eggman"; the sole memory makes you frown. Finally, you spend
some courage in looking up, straight at the blackboard, to find Maki talking towards it as
she writes odd things in chalk.

Since you forgot the PSP on the rush, you dedicate yourself to look around and study your
classmates, since you are kinda tall. Mina is at the very front of the archipielago as usual; her
gold and red hair enthralls you. Shaking it off, you notice Trish talking to Valery, again, as
usual, the latter grinning madly while the other nods every now and then, neither of them
paying the blockboard any heed.

"That was bold of you," and your heart skips a beat. Slowly, you turn around; big blue eyes
stare at you, so blue and deep they remind you of that time you almost drowned, and that
drains the blood from your face. That's when you recognize her; It's the tall, weird girl, that is
completely flat, yet very athletic. "Do you like adrenalin?"

"N-n-no," you finally spit after stuttering, shaking your head. You remember to smile,
then, and do so widely; after all, being social is about giving a big smile. Priscila simply stares
at it, in silence, with a dead little grin and dead eyes.

We're actually you're imaginary friends
"Why are you smiling?" she asks.

"I dunno?" you stop smiling. "I, er, what do you want?"

Priscila looks to one side, then to the other. "I know a girl that likes you," she says, and that
makes your mouth gape. "Why are you doing that?"

"I dunno!" you close your mouth.

"Do you want to meet her?" she asks, spacing her every word as if time wasn't a resource. "I
can tell her to meet you after class."

You find yourself freezing, and Snacks seems as quiet as you are. This girl... there's
something about her. The worst part is that because of the way she speaks (so monotone,
so... blank..!) you can't really tell at all the intent behind her every word. It's like talking to
a robot, somehow, a flat robot a whole head taller than you.

"W-wait,"you blurt out, and Snacks is quick to make the global sign for "lower your voice!" from behind Priscila. "Wh-what girl?"

"Oh," she says, and her grin vanishes. "I cannot tell you."

>"Nice try, though."
>Write in?
Very interesting story. I think people love to read inside of someones head and I'm no exception.

The writing and premise was interesting enough to make me read almost this entire thread even though I didn't intend to.

I couldn't look away!

Having said that though, I do have to say I don't think hardly anyone on 4chan knows what an Autist actually is, or how they act.

I've seen the word thrown around here completely arbitrarily. Not that I care, I'm just pointing it out.

The main character here is unique, and interesting, definitely has a mental illness, but in no way autistic.

Anyway, thanks for the interesting read! I also like that the text is line-broken into novel sized lines and real paragraphs. Good sizes, makes it easier to read.

Anyway yah, felt after reading this much that I should leave a note and a thank you for the read.

Everyone enjoy the game!

maaaaaaaaaaaan, and I was just about to nap. now you make me wanna get some tea and just keep on going and going.

Also I agree, the MC isn't technically autistic. He's just a good guy with a great head that's heading in the /wrong/ direction.
Not quite grasping the meaning in colloquialisms, avoiding being touched, because doesn't like it?
>... OK! ......... Haha nice try though bet you thought I'd fall for that.
I know exactly what an Autist is, I look at one in the mirror.
And, yeah, whatever MC has is far beyond autism, but his personality is derived from greatly exaggerated stereotypes of autism.
Hey guys we've got a stalemate, wut do?

You ponder about it, then glance at Snacks, who's looking at you from the side. When you
look back, the dead eyes and grin are there to greet you.

You clear your throat, as loudly as you can.

Then say, "...OK!."

"Ok," Priscila says.

"OK," you state as if stapling the word on her forehead.

Her grin widens, even if just a bit. "Oooooh. This is-"

surrounding archipielagos are staring, but fuck it; let them be witness to your victory. "Now,
shushu, byebye," you say, repeatedly pushing the air in front of you, dismissively.

And yet, her expression remains the same... just the same, from exactly a few minutes ago.
It's unsettling, and yet you don't get time to be creeped out as she simply stands and heads
away without a word. Snacks follows her briefly as Priscila is swallowed into the archipelago,
then turns to look at you in a way that resembles confusion no more than

Yet, your face remains stiff; reality is way harder than she thinks. It's easy: you don't
have a car, or big muscles, or are good at lying. Nothing that any of those vapid sluts could
possibly want from you; it's not worth the risk.


You are taking your break by staying in the classroom, as usual. If there were any less
people you probably wouldn't be here, though, since you find very unlikely that anyone would
beat you up in front of a crowd; they could get suspended.

And between those people that stay during the break, there's Trish. She's having lunch on her
island, but here's the catch: Valery is right in front of her. Talking. Giggling. Laughing.

When Trish glances, you look away, perhaps a bit too dramatically. After waiting a bit you
continue to stare at her, wondering if she noticed. Maybe she did.

>Go talk with Trish (and Valery)
>Go talk with Trish: completely ignore Valery.
>Wait for a better chance; you've got like four years for that.
>Talk to somebody else: Romina and coldhearted, the three titans, Priscila.
>>Talk to somebody else: Romina and coldhearted, the three titans, Priscila.
Well shit.
I did something like this in school.
Damn memories.
But who, nigga?
Lets talk to Priscila

This shit is going to be hard on itself, so adding the action figure to the equation is a bit out of
the question. No; you head to the opposite direction, towards the tall girl that's silently
checking her cellphone. The way it illuminates her face makes her grin seem almost grim.

Once you stand next to her, she pays you no heed. You wonder if you are being noticed or

"Hey," you say, yet it comes out weak. "H-hey!" and it's still not loud enough.

Angry, you take a deep breath but Snacks frantically shakes a finger in front of you- so
you turn your eruption into a sigh. You settle for sitting next to Priscila, and wait for her to notice
you instead of just saying "Hey" like a normal human being.

Her hair is long and between cyan and blue- just like in the animes!!- yet between her hair
and 'Snacks' still doing deadlifts during Maki's class you fail to be astonished.

Priscila looks up. You look at her in the eyes, then crack a big smile. She stands, walks
away, and sits somewhere else without a word.

You wonder what it means.

>Talk to someone else.
Aight guys, I'm heading to bed. Updating asap from now on.
We tried.
>>Talk to someone else.
Lets see what Romina and coldhearted are up to.
Good night OP
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2.69 MB
2.69 MB JPG
Love you, OP.

If you want a drawfag, I'll oblige.
>Talk to Trish
She thinks she can show a passing interest in us, and back out safely?
man, im just starting to draw and now I know how hard that is, good job!


I'm usually very against flipping coins, but i could do it if half an hour goes by without changes. Wut do u think ?
Woah, excellent.
I'll change mine>>1370444

>Talk to Trish.

You enjoy Priscila's blue hair for a while, at least until you realize it's a distraction from
what you really want to do. Laughter echoes across the seas, and it's Valery, and her face is
all red while Trish's is blank as usual. The contrast gets wider as Valery rests her head on
Trish's shoulders, muffling her giggling, and you wonder what could be so funny.

...that's right. Valery is there. You glance at Snacks who simply, yet firmly, nods deeply.

Yet, how?

>Talk to Trish AND Valery. Crowds are something new, but better start somewhere, right?
>Talk to Trish; completely disregard Valery. It will make it easy, and she'll surely get the point.
>Eh, better wait. Four years. Yeah. Don't bite more than you can chew.
>>Talk to Trish; completely disregard Valery. It will make it easy, and she'll surely get the point.

You are simply /not/ obligated, by any means, to talk to Valery. She's just there. That's not
your fault.

That's what you are thinking as you head towards Trish's island. Her face twists as she
sees you coming, and you are already sweating behind the neck- yet her face goes bleaker the
closer you get.

"Howwza going, dog?" you point both fingers at Trish- and Valery's cheeks almost explode.

"Autismo," Trish says, as calmly as possible, "not now."

"B.but why not?!" you almost shout, exasperated after all the effort it took you to get
there. "I'm here, right now. Let's DO IT!" You strike a fist towards the clouds, towards the
endless silver linings.

And, of course, the rest of the class is now looking in your general direction. Trish glances
here, and there, from her desktop buried under doodles, before finally settling her eyes on you
and... glaring.

"Let's do it!" And it's Valery, breaking in just in time, her fist soaring the skies.next to Trish's...
whose arm she's lifting with the other hand. Her glare turns to Valery but finds nothing but a
shit-eating grin and a childish stare full of glee. Subtly, Trish sighs.

"Alright, let's try to get a few things back into our head," Trish starts, shaking her arm free
from Valery's grasp. "First, we are in the middle of the god-damned classroom. Second, I
already told you, if I recall the very exact fucking words," she gestures with her hands,

"No?" Valery adds.

"No-ne of your god-damned business," Trish says, glaring all around her until everyone looks
away. The cold-hearted girl, you notice, doesn't.

Yet Valery puffs a cheek. "It can't be that bad. It's not like Emile here asked to have sex with
you, right?"

Your cheeks go red. It's like an anime!

Trish calmly places a hand over Trish's shoulders, giving the bombastic blonde a
gentle, soft look."With enough time, and lube, and some patience, my whole arm could fit
inside your ass."

Valery smirks. "Nice-"

"My whole arm. Inside your ass," Trish says, slowly turning her arm in front of her face,
studying every inch of it intently. Her studies end in an open palm towards Valery, along with a
soft smile and a powerful glare.

...yet Valery is smiling widely. "Sweety, that's so cool! Woah!" she claps, excitedly. "Very
'scientific'" it seems the correct spelling of the word escapes her.

"Valery," Trish warns.

"Dear, what did you want from her?" And Valery soon turns towards you, giving this little, sharp

...Yet you don't answer. It's not your fault she's there, after all; it's none of your business.

You turn to Trish, which seems to take her by surprise.

"You told me I could pay you to teach me how to be a normal dudy-dude," you rumble, your
words grave and hollow- enough to make Trish grimace. "That'd you'd make me a normal dudy

Valery muffles a gasp, as Trish rolls her eyes and grumbles the incantation to summon the
Demon Lord, "Lord of Demons", the Lord of some Demons.

"Soooo thaaaaat's the thing!!" Valery says as she turns to look at Trish, her eyes shining, her
smile beaming. "Whaduyuknoooow!"

Trish's calm stare reminds you of the size of her arm. Your ass clenches on reflex as she
tilts her head.

"'No' means no, Autismo," Trish says with a half smile, suddenly a lot more calm. "Fuck

"You can't just do that, you know," Valery interjects, in a pleading, funny tone, making
Trish roll her eyes again. "Getting someone's hopes up and then crushing them like that is
/mean/." Valery smiles. "I don't like /mean/".

One of Trish's eyes twitches. "You just want to turn me into a retard wrangler, don't you?"

"I'm not the one drowning in debts. In fact, you owe me a Toblerone," Valery says, raising a
finger, "and I don't see you paying coffee anytime soon like this."

Trish hides her face with her hands."Jesus fucking Christ," she says.

"IN FACT," Valery states, loudly, ensuring she draws as much attention as she can, "I-am
using-that-FAVOR!!". Then she smiles like a shark, getting as close to Trish's hand bunker
as possible. "Oh, but you saw that one coming, didn't you?"

Trish doesn't answer. Valery turns to you, then her taunting smile twists into a warm smile.

"Dear, you- are- willing to pay, right?" she asks, slowly. "Trish is actually very good at this
stuff!" Valery seems excited.

And a while goes on, and nobody talks; from the corner of your eye, you notice her eyes
slightly going wider. But you are looking at Trish; your business is with her. Only with her.

"SO HOW ABOUT IT THEN?" You rumble, impatiently, "ARE YOU GOING TO HELP ME

"She is!" Valery states, a hint of surprise in her voice. "In fact, did you arrange on a schedule
already? I can gi-"

"Hey, Trish!," you interrupt Valery. This is none of her bussiness, after all.

"Dude, fuck off!" the shelter says."

"FINE!" you rumble, turning on your feet. Fuck her; you've got Snacks.

"H-hey! Wait!" Valery quickly scribbles on a paper, then hands it over to you. She's smiling,
a bit too harshly, with her eyes closed. "This is her address! You shoul-"

You turn around and head out, leaving Valery to talk alone so she gets the hint. Snacks
happens in front of you, suddenly, and points a red STOP sign in your general direction.

Angry, you just walk through it.

Of course, you had to go back. Classes were far from over, after all, since Maki had to make
up for the past class she lost for being overworked. Yet there she stands, again, a
woman on his 30's with more coffee than blood, still kinda short, still widely awake.

From your far-away island, you sigh; it's going to be a long-ass class, and you can't believe
you are just half-way through it.


>Throw little balls of paper at other students; rinse, repeat, have "lols".
>Actually try and pay attention to Maki; exams are going to be a bitch at this rate.
>Write Sonic fanfiction.
Make faces while the teacher teaches, then act clueless when the other students get in trouble for laughing.
Read the next chapter too, so you know what's going on next.
This is what I actually did in school.
I read almost the entire book by the time the semester was halfway over.
Wasn't expecting a quest to cause me to reminisce so.

Well, might as well make the most out of it. Snacks always says that thing about cards and
life and what you do, so whatever that means it's about time to do her honor. You find very
soon, however, that there's little point in making faces when you are in the very back of the
everything, so you try making faces at Maki. Smiling like a retard, winking, taking your
tongue out; it takes a while for the teacher to catch a glimpse of you, and all you manage is
to freeze her for the best part of a second after which she goes on, relentlessly, with her
teachings. With your face all tired and hurty you give up, finally, and focus on the book under
your chin, over the desktop. The pages were left all sticky after the tea slipped that one time,
so besides boring this is bound to be annoying.


Only just now you barely realize you've eaten through the book like wildfire; it's way past
page two hundred, and you had barely gotten started on it. Sure, there are a lot of numbers
and formulas and what-not, but you found that understanding something after cracking your
head to be severely amusing... and you may be a bit too good at this. Finally, you look up, and
holy fuck; it's empty. The whole classroom is empty. Except, of course, for Romina and
coldhearted, who like to stay and study after the class is over.

Pff. Nerds.

>Talk to them?
>Talk to Snacks?
>Head home?
>Actually, this book is nice.
>>Talk to them?
Hello... er, How long has it been since everyone left.
>Talk to snacks
Why didn't you tell me class was over?
>Talk to Snacks

Snacks is nowhere to be seen until you look up and find her walking on the ceiling, against
gravity. her hair, however, falls like a golden waterfall over you.

"Hey," you say out loud, and she looks at you the way only she could; with her eyes closed.
"Why didn't you tell me class was over?"

Snacks smiles. "Well, you seemed so into it that I didn't want to break the charm. It's nice to
see you so concentrated."

"What's nice about that?" you ask, staring at the empty ceiling, which has cracks, wet spots,
and an astonishingly well-drawn face of a black bald man with one of those white bubbles; "The
FUCK you lookin at?", it says. "I could already be farming Laharl in the Item World!"

Snacks crosses her arms over there at the ceiling, looking at the floor- which is the ceiling,
in this case. Then she looks up, at you. "What about grinding that book?"

"I can't kill Baal like that," you state, a bit dazed.

From the corner of your eye, you catch Romina quickly looking away from your direction. You
look around; nope, nobody here. Well... here goes nothing.

>Talk to them?

You walk up to their desk, instantly drawing their attention.

"H-hello, er..." you start, grabbing your nape to seem embarrassed by their beuty. "How long has
it been since everyone left?" you ask, finally looking at them.

And you feel it. It's in the air; it's like music. Like you've just fallen, somehow, into the
Yamaku Academy from Katawa Shoujo, and if you haven't played it then pretty please fucking
do so, for it is great, free, and Lilly best girl you tasteless fucks.

"Hello, Emile!" Romina says, and her voice flows like the waves at the beach, even if it's a
bit high pitched. "Class has been over for... um..."

"Fourthly three minutes," the other girl says, and it feels like she just spits her thoughts.

You finally get a chance to study the both of them closely. Romina is a head shorter than
you, blonde, has short hair, wears glasses, what seems to be the casual version of a lab
coat, and her eyes are... orange. Bright orange. Eh... this isn't even anime anymore. The girl in
front of her is seriously fucking pale. She must have a disease, because her eyes are black
where they should be white and gold-brown where they should be... anything else, really.
Also, she has horns. Yeah. Maan, what the fuck.

"Would you like to sit down with us?" Romina offers, plainly and without stuttering. The other
simply stares at you- a merciless stare, there's no social contract anywhere in there. You nod a
few times over as if stuck in time, then remember that you have to sit down and so sit
on the bench right in front of Romina.

"I, er, thank you," you say, scratching your head and giggling too hard.

Romina blinks at you. "What for?"

"I dunno," you say, then sit straight in your chair because your mother told you it makes you look

"I finally get the chance to talk with you," Romina says warmly as if shrugging the
awkward silence aside.

"So, how do you have fun?" Romina asks, plainly.

"Oh, er, mostly vidya. The good old vidya gaems, hehe," you say, suddenly a bit at ease.
"Last time I was playing Overwatch and Reinhard jumped on me and I was like BANG,
because I was playing Reaper, and I fucking rock. I'm a lot like the Reaper, you know?"

"Oh, haha, I see!" Romina says, giggling a bit.

"No. You don't." And she finally said a word; you had been wondering if this was going to
happen. Fuck, these jerks can't into respecting (authors note: replace toilet paper) individual
conversations between individuals. "What you said did not make any sense at all to us, since
we are not familiar with the references," the cold girl says, and she looks so pale.

You giggle. Maybe that's why she's so pale; because of the cold.

This makes her raise an eyebrow. "Did I say something funny, Roomba?"

"What were you thinking of? Come on, share!" Romina interjects, laughing warmly, ignoring the
butchery of her name completely

Eh... Wild SOCIALSITUATION appeared!

Why lie? The truth is the truth, as we see it anyway.
And now I'm downloading another game, great.
You'll fucking love me a week from now.
1.5 terabytes of games, GAMES! I can't even figure out what I want to play!
That's not including the ones NOT installed, or the old ones that are lost in my room.
If I download that game, I'll probably hate you for enabling me.
I'm trying to not be a neet man.
Man, at least you can play I can't even run a DS emulator with this shit, I'm starting to like HEARTSTONE for fucks sake.

Then it's worth the hate. It's fairly short so don't worry, it won't re-neet you. Maybe even the exact opposite.

Sorry man, now I feel bad for complaining.
The last game I played for any length was burrito bison launcha libre.


"It-it's just," you say, trying to get your cheeks red, "that I was thinking that maybe she's so
pale because she's so cold HAHAHAHAHHAHA" You look at one and then
at the other, as you laugh, mouth wide open and saliva flying everywhere, making the cold girl
cover her face with a hand.

"M-my, Emile," Romina says, her voice dim, even if she's still smiling a little, "maybe you
shouldn't say that kind of things like that."

This makes one of the horned girl's eyebrows rise. "I could be hearing wrong, but from here it
almost seems as if you were trying to reason with him."

Romina beams up a bit. "Emile is very smart, I'm sure of it. And smart people know that you
can't always be right." She glances at you with those orange eyes. "Isn't that right, Emile?"

"Yeah," you say, "I'm fucking smart. I got A's all the time."

"See?" Romina says, and when she looks at the one with horns she's met with a stern glare.

"What do you want?" that cold girl asks from you as if it always rained around her.

"I, er, I just wanted to talk," you say, then laugh. "I'm just that social."

"You are not," she says. "You do strange things and sit by yourself."

"You are kinda peculiar," Romina interjects," but don't worry; we all are. I don't think someone
normal would be normal, hahaha!"

"HAHAHAHAHA!", and that's you.

"Still," she goes on, "there's always another way to say things. It's not smart to make
people feel bad by making a point." Romina points out, giving the other girl a sweet grin that
turns into a smile as she looks at her.

This makes the other girl "hmm" pensively, then turns to you. "I have to agree." She closes her
eyes. "I'm simply no good in that regard. Come to me if you expect crude, but accurate
feedback. If you ever get offended, however," she states, firmly, "I won't say you another

"Eh. Ok," you say, then nod.

The girl stands, and the sweeter girl follows.

"It's late," she says, "and I have to go. I don't want you to keep me company;. earn it.
Goodbye." And with that, she simply turns around and leaves.

The other girl, however, hesitates for a moment. She turns to you. "Don't worry. That's just as
bad as she gets. From there on, it's an uphill walk." Romina messes with your hair, almost
lovingly. "Sometimes, we all need a cold bucket of water straight to the head. Bye bye!"

And with that, she leaves. You ponder about the thing, then ponder a bit more; then feel
intensely compelled to farm the Item World in Disgaea so you can tell everybody at school
that you took down Baal.

You leave.

AIGHT boys, that's it for today! I might post a little bit in the morning, so feel free to tell me any desired course of action for Emile. Expect sporadic replies during the weekdays since I study, play hearthstone, and then kneel over guilt for the time wasted.
Coldhearted seems ok.
If you are enjoying the time, it's not wasted.
>If you are enjoying the time, it's not wasted.
Fuck YEAH, anon.
And thanks for running op.
Good night yall. Need sleep for tomorrow.
'Night OP
Aight, anyone in here_
I'm here

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