henshined | dear shay your christmas present this year is the gift of non-canon shipping

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dear shay your christmas present this year is the gift of non-canon shipping

Grandpasprite has literally never been more unhelpful than right now: Gentaro had held up three t-shirts for approval only to get the usual "Gennoji, wear whatever speaks to you, she'll feel the rock in your soul!". Asking Kyouichi is both likely to be unhelpful and likely to get complaining about dating that woman's friend. (Gentaro thought he was just mad Jaynne could kick his ass.)

"Well, whatever, I've just gotta go for it," he decides, and pulls on the pink one. Roxane likes pink, right?

The DS burning a hole in his pocket and the XBox taking up valuable space in his over-full Sylladex are the real point of today's adventure down the planet string, anyway. Half of him is hoping she hasn't figured out how to get multiplayer to work over the Sburb network: playing in person is better. Shrugging on his jacket, he goes, waving goodbye to Grandpa and his peacock elder buddies, who are apparently playing mahjong. At least it's a short trip, and when he finally knocks on her door, he's scrounged up all of his not inconsiderable cool.

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"Oh."

Lots of things make more sense now -- no wonder Gentaro had shown her so much sympathy to her before. She does put the controller aside this time, albeit without the dramatic spilling of drinks and food items.

Roxane is completely out of her scientific element in this situation, but that doesn't stop her from enthusiastically casting an arm around the back of his neck or turning on the sofa so that they really are nestled snugly together.

Um.

"Cool," she says with a giggle upon pulling away, going very pink-purple at the gills.

(If Gentaro could hear her thoughts he would be offended; he'd do that for any of his friends. But Roxane was special, even among the rest of his buddies.)

He's barely done any kissing at all, but he figures the arm around his neck and the sudden increase in Roxane-pressed-up-against-him is at least kind of a good sign. The giggling and the proclamation of 'cool' relax him, though, and he curls his arm around her as well as he can. "Pretty damn cool," he agrees, "you know, as long as you wanted this to be a... more than one-time thing."

"Like, dating, I mean," he clarifies, to put it out there where the can see it. Be a man, Gentaro! "If you wanna."

(In the end, it's sort of a shame there's no telepathy here - it could never hurt her to be reminded of the flaws in social constructs that belittle compassion.)

"Yeah! I mean, yeah. What else are we gonna do? Except still kick some absolute shit in games, I guess."

She's absolutely giddy. That's the way this goes: Everything that could possibly be a problem with this won't even come up until later. Step One: I have no fucking clue how to do any of this, coming soon to an heiress near you.

Resting her face against the side of Gentaro's neck, Roxane smirks. "You have some ulterior motives giving me the teal degree about my attachments earlier?"

"And now we can do that and call it a date, which is, like, the best of every world, right?" Gentaro thinks as much, and--after a moment where he forgets about her horns and nearly stabs himself in the face--he turns his head to smile into her hair.

"I just wanted to make sure," he answers, pulling away enough to rest his chin on the crest of her hornbed and continue talking. "I mean, maybe I'm biased but it seems pretty clear somebody'd be putting the moves on the coolest troll of all time." His arm under hers tightens around her.

"Well, you know what they say about my genetic material." Actually, she thinks maybe he doesn't know that. And that might be for the best. "Competition was fierce."

She takes the contact with her horns as implicit permission to touch the pomp, which she does, absently messing with it - as much as she can with something so utterly glued down.

"That sounds pretty much like the best to me. Everclearly, I am down for the visitation." She likes that much about Sburb - has she said that before. Probably. A lot. Tipsily, when she can't remember.

Gentaro makes a face at 'genetic material'. "You're way more important than that stuff," he grumbles, "you're you. So of course the competition was fierce!"

He accepts the hand on pompadour easily; it's not like she's trying to flatten it out, and, really, he's about to comb hers into one, so they'll still have enough sheer hair height to make this an acceptable Kisaragi-style rendezvous.

"And so am I, you know, I can kick grandpa out so we can hold hands without the old man telling war stories, and I'll turn on the A/C if it's too hot for you," he offers, "and you can try out all of his sake with him later. I'll even cook for you!" Nothing made of troll babies, though, but he'd mentioned that to her at some point, so she probably knew that much.

"I like being able to see you whenever, too," he says, fluffing at the hair on the back of her head.

"Yeah, yeah yeah! You totally should do that." Manners. "Err, could do that! I tried to recreate that manjuu stuff for tonight but it didn't go so well. Actually, it was kinda like an explosion of fire ... and grain pulp. Pchoo."

It seems like a lot of things to put into one plan, but that doesn't bother her in the slightest.

Roxane's knowledge of matespritship is mostly confined to media representations (really, Mass Effect did interspecies dating too, right?). Cooking and games and hand holding and sake all together all sound so pleasant, so the sheer amount of things to do never really makes an impression on her. All that matters is that they are fun things and they sound good - and they do sound really good and regular and normal. "Maybe after we can jam on a pile of my scarves or whatever. I'll bring them," she sighs, scooting halfway into his lap while he messes with her hair.

"Wow, uh, congrats?" he offers, trying to think of how manjuu would explode. "I've never heard of anybody doing that, you're like a prodigy of kitchen explosions! How awesome!"

Gentaro's priorities are, as always, probably a little off, but he's distracted from talking about her cooking experiments by the sudden and very excellent presence of Roxane in his lap. "Well hi," he greets, as he carefully continues combing her hair forward. "We can jam on whatever, whenever you want, Rox," he informs her, "I mean, we've got time, right?" He has to untangle some hair that was curled around a horn, and he carefully fingercombs it out before it joins the rest of the messy-looking pompadour beginning to take shape on her forehead. "Damn, you should do this all the time," he muses.

"I didn't follow the recipe very well."

Food preparation and science probably should have been kept out of the same space. It wasn't as if there wasn't enough room in her hive to do both. Food experiments are way more fun though.

"No way," she laughs, looking up like she can see the pile of hair building on the top of her head. "You think I have the patience to put this kind of ef-port in every night?"

There's nothing wrong with sitting - in fact, she rather likes it. So it's hard to explain how antsy she gets so easily, even with things she likes. While he's working on the wannabe pomp, she reaches for his controller.

"Should I get your guy some antipersonnel gear?"

In Gentaro's opinion, food science was just cooking! Explosions were just a spice of the adventure known as meal preparation! Somehow, Gentaro's actual cooking mishaps were actually fairly few in number--probably out of luck and lack of opportunity more than anything else.

He's finishing off her sweet pompadour when she takes his controller, and he smooths the top with a practiced eye before he answers. "Go ahead," he says, "I mean, can't hurt, can it?"

He's already got one eye on her controller, though.

literally impossible for me to not read 'eye on her controller' as a euphemism for something

"You gonna show me this artistic masterpiece of yours?" Mirrors are few and far between in her hive, and especially in the above-ground lab she's set up, but maybe he's carrying something along with him. It would suck if she's just cursed him into having to get up.

That's about all the worry she has to spare for that, though; Roxane leans over with the controller slightly, angling to get Player One somewhere that isn't Blown Up In A Tank.

Would it be cheating to make use of the Banshee? No, she thinks not.

This is way more distracting than actually setting him up with a good arsenal and vantage point.

"Sure would be a shame if you flew into a tree, I guess."

dpgjdfiskgm not this time. yet.

"Hell yeah I am," he answers, after plucking up her controller and stuffing it behind his head so she can't get to it. Then there's some reaching around in his Sylladex before he produces a compact with obnoxious flame print and "friendship" emblazoned on the outside. "Here you go, Rox," he says, and flicks it open for her to examine her seriously sweet hairdo.

"Don't drive me into a tree," he says, when he realizes what she's doing. "I don't need my ratio goin' down, y'know!"

look you're the one who says all the time that he touches the butt

"I'm insulted," she lilts, stalling the banshee long enough to get a look. "Don't you think I'm an expert at flying now after enough time with the rocket-hoover?" It's not like they're playing a real-virtual-reality game that requires a disproportionate amount of flying just to get across the world, or anything.

Yeah, check it out: She can even fire reflexively while looking into the mirror.

Roxane hoots with laughter. Her natural response is to run her hands through it. Too bad they're attached to the controller - and Gentaro's player character.

"No way," she says, one hand still desperately trying to keep the vehicle afloat while she runs the fingers of the other through the new hairstyle. "Check out this tapped-out shit. I thought it'd be bigger since I have so much hair."

and he's going to :I

"Insulted my ass," he answers, and reaches the hand not occupied with the mirror to reach for the controller. It's half-hearted. "Look," he says, "you're totally gonna go right into that wall!"

He laughs at her estimation. "Yeah, sure, with half an hour and a whole can of hairspray," he says, "I mean, it does pretty good at stickin' up, figure it's that troll hair thing, but man it'd probably be bigger than your horns if I took a while on it...!"

He's half jealous, half blissful at the concept. Either way he stops reaching for the controller and settles his hand at her hip. He desperately wants to kiss her again, pausing the game be damned. So he shuts the mirror between his fingers and his palms and leans to get a look at her face. "You gonna stop admirin' yourself long enough t'say thanks?" he teases.

it's not like i'm PRESSURING him to touch the butt just i have observed in the past that he has touched the butt

She mutters a little around his grabbing ("You're gonna crash your own damn guy," "This is why we can't have nice things"), fidgeting and kicking a little irritably. Isn't she supposed to be checking out her reborn hairstyle? Eventually, she hits pause after all. Roxane doesn't often know her limits, but when she does it's over inconsequential shit. Level-headed only when it really doesn't count, that's her.

"I could break down the biology of that or whatev, if you wanted, but..." Well, that would be a little boring, probably.

Roxane leans very close, taking her hand off of her hair to place it over his and push the mirror away.

"Man, you're full of it. Thanks for makin' me look like a delinquent."

how could he resist the butt...

Gentaro makes a triumphant noise when she pauses, though the concept of her admiring herself and being good enough at Halo to keep playing was kind of awesome. He plucks the controller from her fingers while she's distracted talking about biology. "No, thanks, we're good," he says, eyes already crossing.

He sucks in a breath when she gets close, and then he surges forward to kiss her again in annoyance. "You're welcome," he says, after a quick peck, "if you're gonna date a delinquent, you gotta try lookin' like one!"

Roxane scrunches her face up when he kisses her, sliding back and away until they're in a position resembling what they started in.

"Some matesprit you're starting out to be, what with changing me into a renegade and all. Betta not let that rebellion get squashed."

Where the fuck is her controller. "Yo, Gentaro...?" she mutters, holding her hands up as she looks to both sides.

See? What was she saying? Bad flushmance. The very worst.

Gentaro is hardly 'observant' in most sense of the word, but even he knows when something's off. "I'm not gonna let anything get squashed," he answers, "unless it's you, at Halo."

He drops the smack-talk for a moment. "What?" he asks, and catches on. He holds her controller up in his hand, shaking it back and forth. "Lookin' for this?"

Yeah, there it is. She draws up excitedly the way a cat does when it sees a string, but resists the natural urge to lunge and him and take it by force. There's a way better way to get it back.

"Just happened to find my controller sitting somewhere beneath your gluteous padding, huh? My hero."

She holds out her hand expectantly, not saying anything else.

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dear shay your christmas present this year is the gift of non-canon shipping

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this hot mess of a girl i stg

no she's too cute

it's too much. it's all too much

everything is happening too much

i'm basking in all of the gentaroxy in my life right now maybe it happens NOT ENOUGH

WELL HERE HAVE SOME MORE i hope it cheers you up a little <3

it does make me feel pretty darn great i have to say /gathers them up

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i'm gonna tag here before i throw myself off a cliff

i wanted to tag this days ago but funerals

IN TURN i didn't get to tag this on valentine's day like i wanted to 8( huff huff

WOOSH TIME FOR A TAG

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im tagging this instead I DO WHAT I WANT