[from the pages—or rather, springs of Ranma ½, we bring to you. . .]

[onlyhonournow]

 [today, there's a rather large dog sitting, looking very reserved while gazing at the sky above the Fussin' Overlook]

[the dog seems rather familiar: there's something in its expression—and I mean, there can't be that many white dogs with red accents who have two swords strapped to their backs.] 

Comments

[onlyhonournow]

[oh that is extremely ridiculous isn't it.

I

think I'll just casually turn back over now, and pretend that did not happen.]

... Nothing. Nothing. I apologise. ... for barking.

I should not have barked.

[pincerattack]

[whaaaaat.]

Is this some kind of weird joke that's going to end with me yelling until I die and you going on about your goddamn prankster's gambit? Because I already live that every damn day with John and don't need a robot version of that. I WILL SKIP RIGHT TO THE YELLING PART IF THAT'S WHAT THIS IS.

Seriously, this is a trick, right? You're trying to confuse me and make me look like the thinkpan-rotted fool that I indubitably am?

[onlyhonournow]

[ears fwip back again, reflexively, and he raises himself a little, just enough to be able to back up slowly.]

—No. I'm truly sorry; that was thoughtless of me. I understand—considering our—the—circumstances—that you needn't accept my apology nor forgive me.

[pincerattack]

I SERIOUSLY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK IS EVEN GOING ON ANYMORE.

[onlyhonournow]

Well.



I am currently a very large organic animal and you're yelling, very loudly. All things considered, we should be used to at least one of these things.

[. . .was that snark? It was snark.]