|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Mecchen House - Chapter 4Chapter 4 – Room Hunting at Mecchen House
To say that Katsumi was a bit upset by the final vote of five to four to let us stay is about the biggest understatement I can imagine. She flew around like a caged feline and hissed to the girls.
“I CANNOT believe this! This should’ve been UNANIMOUS! Fine, you want it that way. But I’ll have no part in moving them in and no part in any of them, period. I’ll only plot the demise of their manhood in one fell swoop. Don’t think I’m just bluffing. If you, all three of you, are staying, then all three of you will be wearing skirts before you know it. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!” Her finger darted between us, and she trampled across the floor with her purse over a shoulder, put her phone to her ear, and continued up the steps.
Ami let out a long, slow breath.
“She’s actually a rather nice person. But we are always in conflict about stuff like this. She was really rou
Mecchen House - Chapter 5Chapter 5 Baths, Dress-ups, and Good Nights at Mecchen House
The wicked cackle from Katsumi made me reconsider for a moment. A door slid open, and Katsumi quickly covered her mouth. Her tension released when she realized it was just Miki with a container full of colorful items, a towel over her shoulder, and a toothbrush in her mouth.
Her gaze lingered on Katsumi before she walked into the bath area and closed the door behind her. Katsumi let her tension go and looked over at us. Anyway. Im glad you all agreed. Now my plan can go forward. As soon as your feminine materials are ready to wear. Till then, I have a few things to prepare. Dont go anywhere, or I will physically hunt you down and super glue you to every girlish thing I have for all eternity.
This was becoming like revolving doors. No sooner did Katsumi exit, her weighty footfalls sounding on each step (how, I wondered, could she ever expect to sneak up on anyone when she was
Mecchen House - Chapter 8Chapter 8 Messages Away from Mecchen House
Of course, the next question was when were they checked out? The lenders information said three days ago. The books had been checked out only this one time. Theyd been first stocked by the library early last August. Three of the publishing dates were thirty-years ago. The other two were brand-new, just published when they were stocked. No publisher given. Edited by Chosha Ikamono. This guy sure wrote a lot. His name was on all five of the books.
As the librarian moved back to close the window on the screen, I asked her about the author. She looked at me with those lime eyes of hers as though Id asked her for the color of the sky. When my confusion remained, she told me, Its a pseudonym. It means fake author. That could mean theyre all by the same person. Or it could be a group of people who dont want to be known for writing those books.
Nathan put a ha
Mecchen House - Chapter 9-1Chapter 9 – Reunions and a Recipe at Mecchen House
My eyes had always been vaguely gray-colored. But now they looked more like Jamie’s eyes used to. The contrast of red and blue was striking. I kept touching my hair ‘till I felt Nathan’s hand on my shoulder. The feeling of a breath at my neck was gone, but it was covered by a full set of locks now.
Nathan marveled at my hair and asked a quick, “Are you okay?”
I brushed at it, trying to keep the front locks away from my lenses. They defied all attempts at being brushed. At least what hung down was transparent enough that it didn’t block my vision. I rubbed my eyes. They felt the same as always.
I responded to Nathan, “Like I could really go for a haircut.”
Jamie, who I’d thought was asleep, said, “Me even worse. I’d even try a buzz-cut if it held all this at bay.” His hands raked at his locks with thinly-veiled malice. He sighed and said, “
SweepAs soon as he stepped into the open field, he slung the minesweeper from his shoulder and pointed its nose to the ground. It was old, worn and heavy, and old and rough, calloused and breaking, and old. The metal between his hands was cold and chilled his fingers. If he was not careful he could step on the very mines he was trying to find. They would have to pick up the pieces of his body and to send the tags home where his wife would cry and hold his son and daughter close with nothing to show them of their father but a piece of metal engraved with "Ajeet Singh".
One sweep, than another.
This war had taught him to never trust open spaces. Open spaces were where the mines were planted, where Prets lay in wait. France was green and damp just like the uniform he wore. It had been days since he was separated from his unit, and now the Allies were breathing on his neck, searching for POW’s, searching for the enemy of which he was one. &
Keep in Touch!
Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More