'sup~
What is in your bag? Post photos if you're so inclined (I would but my camera's not working, so have a shitty drawing instead.)
Other stuff that's sometimes in there: my phone, make-up (foundation, blush and lipgloss), a spare pair of tights, body spray, women's equipment, this neat Disney water bottle I take with me if it's a hot day.
Talk
Fandom: Kamen Rider W
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Philip/Wakana
Notes: Wakana attempts seduction-by-phone. Ughhh you guys the ending to this sucks. D:
When Shotaro was home Philip usually let him answer the phone. Inevitably if he answered it he ended up having to pass it over to Shotaro anyway; nobody ever called Philip. However, Shotaro was busy. He’d lost the “L” key on his typewriter and could apparently only find it by screaming at Akiko at the top of his voice. By the time Philip managed to direct Shotaro’s attention away from the screaming match the phone might have stopped ringing - so he answered it himself.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Philip-kun?”
Perhaps it wasn’t true that nobody ever called him. One person did, very occasionally. Philip felt a jolt of electricty sizzle up his spine. “Wakana-san?” He glanced over at Akiko - this was usually the point where she excitedly tried to wrestle the phone from him - but she was busy trying to murder Shotaro with just her voice. Before either of them could notice, Philip ducked out of the room.
“I just wanted to talk,” Wakana said, and Philip pressed the phone as close to his ear as he could, greedily committing every word to a special spot in his memory. “My voice isn’t echoing, is it?”
“No.”
“Good. It’s just I’m in the bathroom,” she sing-songed. “In the bath, in fact.”
There was a heavy pause, as she was waiting for a response. Eventually Philip supplied an, “Oh.”
“Mm-hmm,” Wakana continued. “I bought a new loofah today, I’m trying it out.”
What was the difference between one loofah and another? Philip wondered. Did size make a difference, or perhaps brand? What, for that matter, was the function of a loofah? He’d seen Akiko’s lying in the bathroom and had never quite seen the point of it. He could look it up - but something told him Wakana hadn’t called to talk about loofahs, not really, and wouldn’t appreciate more than a vague interest in the matter. It was with a herculean effort that he stayed back to the door, phone in hand.
“I’m just running it up my leg,” came a purr from the other end, interrupting Philip’s internal battle. “So I’m all wet and soapy.”
Philip sat up. “Wet?” he said.
“So wet,” Wakana breathed. “And because it’s such a big bath I’m all-“
“Are you wet all over?”
“All over,” Wakana replied, dragging out every syllable.
“Then you should probably dry your hands,” Philip said, standing up. “Because holding an electrical appliance with wet hands is quite dangerous, Wakana-san.”
Silence on the other end. “Wakana-san? Wakana-san?”
“Hello, Philip-kun.” A high-pitched giggle, and Philip sighed in relief. “You’re quite right, of course! I was just drying my hands. Actually,” and her voice returned to that soft purr that sent what he believed was colloquially known as butterflies fluttering up his spine, “it’s a good thing you said so, because I’m completely defenseless here. If I were to be electrocuted I wouldn’t have a scrap of clothing to protect me.”
“Well,” Philip said, eager to make himself useful, “I’m not sure it’d make any difference whether you were wearing clothes or not. I’d have to research it in more detail, of course, but-“
“Philip-kun?” Wakana sounded perky still - but strained, the way she sounded sometimes when talking to particularly rude callers on her show, the most recent example being from a show that had aired precisely two months and three days ago. “If you want to research something, will you do me a biiiig favour?”
“Of course, Wakana-san.”
“Look up ‘phone sex’ and then get back to me in a week.”
“Waka-“ but the line had gone dead. Philip stared at his phone, shrugged, and got to work.
Other stuff that's sometimes in there: my phone, make-up (foundation, blush and lipgloss), a spare pair of tights, body spray, women's equipment, this neat Disney water bottle I take with me if it's a hot day.
Talk
Fandom: Kamen Rider W
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Philip/Wakana
Notes: Wakana attempts seduction-by-phone. Ughhh you guys the ending to this sucks. D:
When Shotaro was home Philip usually let him answer the phone. Inevitably if he answered it he ended up having to pass it over to Shotaro anyway; nobody ever called Philip. However, Shotaro was busy. He’d lost the “L” key on his typewriter and could apparently only find it by screaming at Akiko at the top of his voice. By the time Philip managed to direct Shotaro’s attention away from the screaming match the phone might have stopped ringing - so he answered it himself.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Philip-kun?”
Perhaps it wasn’t true that nobody ever called him. One person did, very occasionally. Philip felt a jolt of electricty sizzle up his spine. “Wakana-san?” He glanced over at Akiko - this was usually the point where she excitedly tried to wrestle the phone from him - but she was busy trying to murder Shotaro with just her voice. Before either of them could notice, Philip ducked out of the room.
“I just wanted to talk,” Wakana said, and Philip pressed the phone as close to his ear as he could, greedily committing every word to a special spot in his memory. “My voice isn’t echoing, is it?”
“No.”
“Good. It’s just I’m in the bathroom,” she sing-songed. “In the bath, in fact.”
There was a heavy pause, as she was waiting for a response. Eventually Philip supplied an, “Oh.”
“Mm-hmm,” Wakana continued. “I bought a new loofah today, I’m trying it out.”
What was the difference between one loofah and another? Philip wondered. Did size make a difference, or perhaps brand? What, for that matter, was the function of a loofah? He’d seen Akiko’s lying in the bathroom and had never quite seen the point of it. He could look it up - but something told him Wakana hadn’t called to talk about loofahs, not really, and wouldn’t appreciate more than a vague interest in the matter. It was with a herculean effort that he stayed back to the door, phone in hand.
“I’m just running it up my leg,” came a purr from the other end, interrupting Philip’s internal battle. “So I’m all wet and soapy.”
Philip sat up. “Wet?” he said.
“So wet,” Wakana breathed. “And because it’s such a big bath I’m all-“
“Are you wet all over?”
“All over,” Wakana replied, dragging out every syllable.
“Then you should probably dry your hands,” Philip said, standing up. “Because holding an electrical appliance with wet hands is quite dangerous, Wakana-san.”
Silence on the other end. “Wakana-san? Wakana-san?”
“Hello, Philip-kun.” A high-pitched giggle, and Philip sighed in relief. “You’re quite right, of course! I was just drying my hands. Actually,” and her voice returned to that soft purr that sent what he believed was colloquially known as butterflies fluttering up his spine, “it’s a good thing you said so, because I’m completely defenseless here. If I were to be electrocuted I wouldn’t have a scrap of clothing to protect me.”
“Well,” Philip said, eager to make himself useful, “I’m not sure it’d make any difference whether you were wearing clothes or not. I’d have to research it in more detail, of course, but-“
“Philip-kun?” Wakana sounded perky still - but strained, the way she sounded sometimes when talking to particularly rude callers on her show, the most recent example being from a show that had aired precisely two months and three days ago. “If you want to research something, will you do me a biiiig favour?”
“Of course, Wakana-san.”
“Look up ‘phone sex’ and then get back to me in a week.”
“Waka-“ but the line had gone dead. Philip stared at his phone, shrugged, and got to work.