Rito Ayasaki Posts

[font=Courier New] I find it sad that there was around 200 votes last poll, and this poll there is currently only 37.[/font]

8.7/10

DAT SUIT.

[font=Courier New] lol@thenorthkoreanthing
Well done for the above contestants voting for someone that isn't themselves.
I'll follow their lead!

And don't worry Beeza.
We all have different tastes for stories, and some may prefer a certain genre over another. You'll surely get votes![/font]

[font=Courier New] While you dodged a "bullet" Pheno, I just received around three of them.
Unos, Mibu, Twilight.
All popular users.

God DAMN.

There goes my chances.
[/font]

Yeahsurek.

Responses:



Thanks for all the feedback!
And interpret the story however you want to.

[font=Courier New]
Yeahman, I want to see doujins of her so bad now. :c [/font]

I claim Fukiyose Seiri from Toaru Majutsu no Index 2.

A girl who is looks plain compared to the others, but holds a beauty that only she has. (no, not her chest.)

Pix:

[spoil]

First and only entry:

Entry

Feedback is appreciated and wanted. /thumbs up


Our Promised Meeting

The figures of various couples making their way through the park surrounded me. The blades of dry grass accompanied by snow mixed with dirt were crushed underneath their each step. I tasted that crisp winter air, and I took in that generic city smell infused with it. Trees, with its barren branches being weighed down by the sparkling white snow, towered over me. And there I was, waiting on a worn down old bench. Waiting for that promised meeting. Waiting for that girl who made that same promise with me. A promise to meet with each other after so long on Christmas Day, in a park that we always enjoyed in our adolescent years. This was our grand fortress, our haven from everything else. It was a castle to us, and we were the king and queen. But this time, after all this time, only the king remained; battered and bruised and all sorts of hurt. A vibration from my pocket thrust my mind back into reality. Quickly, I brought it out, with high hopes to receive an update on why she was ridiculously tardy. “You have 1 new text message!” After a quick series of inputs, the message came up. “Merry Christmas, bro! The Fakku! gang is getting together for a couple of drinks tonight. 6PM, the usual spot. Try to be there this time!” A shy smile crept up to my face after reading it. They're always having parties nowadays, though I never attended any one of them.
“Sorry, this is more important to me.”
And I continued waiting. Waiting on that little park bench, battling with the unrelenting thought that she actually might not come. Trapped in a struggle where I couldn't help but refuse the truth that was revealed to me hours ago. But it still stood strong. The truth that on this particular day, Christmas Day, that I will not meet with her. But I couldn't just accept that. I've been waiting all these years just to see her beautiful face and the way the corners of her mouth would quirk up to greet me with a smile. Because of that, I ignored it. I was continuously trying to deny the digits on my clock that far surpassed the time that was set. Throughout this whole time, where every minute felt like an eternity, I never once glanced at my watch again, not wanting to be reminded of the vehement existence of the broken promise.

It was well past the waiting time now, but I still couldn't accept it. I was delusional enough to even conjure up a variety of scenarios, each explaining in full detail to why she isn't here yet. But really, after having to painfully cope with the endless heap of time that was spread so far apart between the present time and the time of the meeting, the concept was reluctantly accepted. She wasn't coming, and I knew that. It was already four hours past the arranged get together, and the sun was already setting. The iron grip of reality was making it harder for my heart to breathe. She wasn't coming, and I had been rejecting that well established fact this whole time.

This feeling I now had, it was unfathomable to me. I couldn't quite comprehend which emotion it was. Was it anger? Exasperation? Depression? Or a mix of all three? No matter what it was, it left a scar. Mental, emotional, internal – however you would label it. The important thing is that it left one. The words that I would always hear and presumed that I understood made its grand entrance back into my mind. “Rejection is a bitch.” Yeah, yeah it is. But is this really rejection? In a sense, I could assume so. Still, there I was, in that minuscule park encircled by all these tall city structures. Reasons unknown to myself, I was unable to move from that same spot. It felt like I was glued to that little bench. In front of me, for my eyes to see, are countless couples walking together, hands and hearts intertwined with one another. They're all laughing together, happy and thankful for each other's existence and very presence. The love that each one of them possess is true and pure. All of them in complete bliss. But it was painful to watch. It was painful to watch for someone who just got stood up. Someone who thought he would be spending his day like them, with the one he loves. But no, that ideal day is gone for him. That ideal day is gone for me. Mustering all the strength that still remained, I left.

Moments later, I was standing at the doorstep of a certain bar. A bar where laughter and shouts of enjoyment could be heard clearly. Why did I even come here? The reasons for arriving at this particular place was completely shrouded in my mind. But what else could I do? I'm already here after all. Among the multiple choices I had in my mind, I went with this one. Opening the door, I joined my fellow friends at the bar. And there, together with people I enjoy being with, I drowned myself in liquor, hoping to forget the event that happened today. That depressing event that made me wait a full eight hours in the cold, sitting on a worn down old bench. An event that led me here, a little sanctuary for everyone, to down glass after glass of drinks. And ultimately, to forget everything that happened.


Word Count : 936 [ Including Title ]

I hope it's decent enough for something done just now. :c
Keep up the writing guys, you're all going amazing.

She looks more like Gumi with long hair. :c