“And if you’ll give me 40% of the MOST POPULAR VOTE, I’ll give you my SPECIAL REWARD... A year’s supply of NON-GLOOBY SLIME!!! Never or BARELY used!!!” Tenna concluded his speech with a huge smile, jetting his hands up in double peace signs.
The crowd roared in confused enthusiasm as Tenna gave a gracious flurry of low-FPS bows, pausing only for the occasional stink-nose at his audience plants who weren’t throwing enough 3D roses.
Eventually, the room fell silent. It was Senshi’s turn to speak.
He puffed out his chest, took a long, sweeping look over the audience… and shook his head.
“I can see not all of you are eating properly.”
The crowd murmured with embarrassment.
“I don’t know who needs to hear this, but it’s time to take the turkey out of your icebox. I have seen the ingenious technology with which your people store food... and I have also seen the waste which results from such convenience.
“The food you take had a life. Beasts grew fat on the grass of the field, plants grew from the sun’s rays, and mushrooms grew from minerals in the cracks of caves. And yet, it sits in your iceboxes, collecting moisture until it perishes.
“Eat what is given to you. Because its life will make you stronger, too.”
Without another word, Senshi left his podium and stepped away from the stage. The crowd murmured in confusion. “Is he really like that?” somebody said. “I only remember reblogging the photosets of him tripping and showing ass.”
--
Back in the Green Room, Tenna wrung his antennas nervously.
“Y-y-you think they liked me!? They HAD to!! I mean, I don’t know what Asgore was thinking, getting that weird haircut and running that food waste campaign, but… YOU thought I did good, didn’t you, Kris?”
Laios nodded aggressively, a streak of blue face paint peeling from his forehead.
“You did AMAZING, Tenna! By the way, now that we’ve seen all your insider campaign secrets, do you have any more videos of Susie? Especially her tail... If I could get a look at that, I could finally tell if she’s a dinosaur or --”
THWACK. Fake antlers butted Laios’s head.
“LAIOS?? Weren’t we dressed up to help SENSHI???” Marcille hissed, gesturing awkwardly with her hooves.
Suddenly, Tenna turned to the two adventurers.
“Hey, WAIT a second. SOMETHING’s not right here...”
Laios and Marcille held their breath.
“Where the heck are my POINTS!?”
Just then, the door opened. Chilchuck took one step into the room, whistling and holding a large bag.
Everyone turned to him.
Chilchuck paused, took a step backwards, and closed the door.
“CHILCHUCK!!!” yelled Tenna.
“How come Chilchuck got to stay Chilchuck!?” yelled Marcille at the same time.
--
Meanwhile, in outer space somewhere, some guy was making out with a rock.
i got maybe the most darling comic commission request from @castielrisingabove, who wanted to see grace failing to do pushups under the combined weight of some very enthusiastic pebbles! he's okay guys, don't worry, he's just... taking a break
"you boys never bring anyone around," mama miya swats at both twins as she works around them to set the table. atsumu is trying to serve himself some protein while osamu already has half a cheek filled with rice. all she can do is sigh and click her tongue— but she wouldn't have her boys any other way.
atsumu groans at his mother's comment. "ma," more meat lands in his bowl and he dodges her attempt to stick some kind of vegetable he's never liked into his bowl. "datin' ain't that important."
from across the table, osamu's eyes narrow. that doesn't sound anything like the atsumu who's been openly moping about some girl he's been pining over for the past few months— a far cry from how his brother acted in high school. things weren't lining up.
"what about that one girl?" osamu pipes up, mouth still half full of rice. chopsticks motion in the direction of the blonde, lazy and almost mocking, in a way. "the sports reporter? for the school newspaper?"
osamu knows he hit a nerve the second he sees the flush appear on the tips of atsumu's ears.
"shut up!" atsumu snaps, scowling as he smacks at osamu's chopsticks. he can feel his cheeks warming, his heart rate picking up— all the signs pointing towards embarrassment. it's not a feeling atsumu is fond of, so immediately he turns defensive. "there was never a thing with a sports reporter—"
"but you've been bitchin' and moanin' about some girl you couldn't get a date with!"
the embarrassment stings worse. atsumu's always had luck in that department— girls practically tripped over their feet in high school just to talk to him. he always had a steady line of admirers, and while it was true— dating wasn't that important to him— all of that flew out the window the second he met you.
atsumu never stumbled over his own words. always had a pick-up line (no matter how cheesy), could flash a little teeth and a wink and score himself a date. it was fairly easy. he knew he was attractive.
so why the hell did none of it work on you? was it the fact he couldn't get his own name out of his lips when you interviewed him court side after his college volleyball match? was it the way he couldn't stop staring at you like a deer in headlights when you complimented his plays? surely you were just doing your job and supporting the team, supporting the school— but was it the way he stood like an absolute idiot court side after you cut the cameras after such an embarrassing interview?
atsumu felt like all his luck drained the moment he met you. even osamu is getting laid more than him now— a fact that should bother him, but doesn't. it hardly feels like a competition anymore now that he's got his sights locked on you.
"i'm workin' on it," atsumu finally mumbles after a beat, ignoring the rush of warmth to the back of his neck. he scowls into his bowl, and pointedly ignores the way his mother lifts a questioning eyebrow towards him.
and because atsumu can never help but start shit with his own brother; "how was umi? thought you two were gettin' serious."
"who?"
"or was that kyojou?"
atsumu feels his shoulders relax when their mother's curious gaze whips into incredulity the moment she turns on osamu.
“how do i do this?” your voice comes out as a low murmur, and you eye claire’s bike before you.
she’s sat on it with the kickstand down, one boot-clad foot on the asphalt. the visor of her helmet is flipped up, and bright blue eyes stare at you as you struggle to understand the odd complexities of a damn helmet. claire takes off her helmet, and a soft laugh elicits from her.
“have you seriously never put on a helmet?” she teases.
your brows furrow and you lift your head up. “i don’t want to ruin my hair!” you explain, and claire can only laugh harder. “i’m serious! what if when i take it off i’m all sweaty and gross under there and my hair’s sticking in seventeen different directions?”
“relax,” she says with a dramatic roll of her eyes, taking the extra helmet from your hands. “it’s basically a hat. your hair will be fine.”
claire leans forward to brush a few strands of hair from your face, then she slides the helmet over your head. the visor falls in place, almost startling you. you reach to flick the visor up.
“see?” she says with a tilt of her head, her gaze catching yours. “just like a hat.”
with that, she hands you her red leather jacket. your arms slide through the holes, and she pulls you closer by the pockets of the jacket. “here, i got it.” her fingers deftly pull up the zipper of her jacket. it fits snug around your body. “there ya go.”
her hands rest at her lap for a moment, taking in the sight of you in her jacket. there’s a soft smile on her lips that’s quickly masked when she puts her helmet back on.
“hop on,” she instructs, gesturing to the seat behind her. you can hear her through the helmet—you guess there’s a microphone built in that connects the helmets… or something.
you glance from claire to the seat behind her, then you swing your leg over to straddle the bike. your hands hesitantly rest at her hips before carefully encircling her midsection. leaning forward, you press your chest against her back.
“you better not get me killed,” you joke.
the bike revs. “i just might!” she says.
you hope and pray to whatever god is up there that she’s fucking with you.
a weary laugh comes from you, and your hold around her torso tightens. “oh, jesus christ,” you mutter.
riding a motorcycle with claire isn’t as much as a death sentence as you first thought. you’re sure you’re cutting off some kind of circulation in her body with how tight your arms are around her midsection, but she doesn’t complain as drives.
for a girl who always gets herself into trouble, claire’s careful as she maneuvers her bike on the road. every turn and tilt has your heart pounding in your ears. the proximity to claire and the swift ride itself causes your anxiety to spike, yet it feels entirely thrilling.
as you stop at a red light in the middle of the city, you lean back from claire to take a quick breather in hoped for your heart to stop racing. your hands rest loosely at her hips.
claire breaks the silence with a soft, “how you feelin’?” her voice rings through your head like a melody.
her head is slightly turned to glance at you from her peripheral, and you lean a little over her shoulder. she can’t see it due to the helmet you wear, but there’s a bright smile on your lips.
“you have got to take me on more rides,” you say.
“trust me,” she says, and you can practically hear that grin in her words, “we’ve got helluva lot more.”
IM SO BACK CODE VERONICA IS GETTING A REMAKE OH MY GOD ITS RELEASING NEXT YESR EVERRYONE CALM DOWN OH MY GOD CALN THE FUCKI DOWN IM JUMPING FOR JOY HOLY MPLY THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE
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