Sunday 20 December 2020

Panty's Christmas Carol - Future (18+)

Something was wrong with Daten City.

It had always been a dirty city, in both senses of the word. Despite being an up-and-coming metropolis, it was usually seen as more of a Chicago than a New York or San Fransisco, with even the most up-market and hoity-toity districts full of dark corners, dodgy secrets and seedy doings. Not to mention the general layer of trash, bubblegum, pigeon shit and dark soot from all the car exhausts. It was almost as if the entire city had an oily sheen to it that the glitz and glamour only accentuated.

This... was a different kind of dirty.

Panty's heels crunched through the snow as she walked through Daten Central Park. Or, rather, what had been Daten Central Park. 

But as she looked around, she could see that it had it had... changed.

The once neurotically well-kept gardens and hedges were a tangle of weeds, briars and things the angel couldn't identify at a glance. The trees were sagging under the weight of unpruned boughs and what grass poked through the white blanket was almost up to her knees. The buildings on either side where showing extreme aging - stone was cracked, crumbling and covered in moss, steel was rusting and bending and glass was broken into snow-like shards. Many of the street lamps weren't on, and aside from the silvery sheen from a full moon the place was in almost total blackness.

Everything was deathly still. The only sound, aside from Panty's footsteps and her shallow breaths, was a faint wind that whipped at her hair. Where was everyone... or everything? No cars on the streets, no people, all the doors were locked... There wasn't even a single light on in any of the windows. No signs of life to be seen, not even the singing of birds or barking of foxes.

What had happened? Had some ghost, or perhaps a demon, come through the city and-

The streetlights flickered.

Panty knew what that meant by now, and braced herself. She wanted to be ready this time. No goddamn Ghost of Christmas Fuckery was going to catch her by surprise and-

A sound like the rusting hinges of an iron gate.


Monday 14 December 2020

Panty's Christmas Carol - Present (18+)

Panty had taken her time with her dress. It was one of her old favourites that she'd kept around for a movie premeire, and she hadn't hesitated in picking it out. Time had been kind to it - the magenta fabric, dashed with cream like something that would incriminate a president, hadn't faded in the least. 

Putting it on, however, had lead to some embarrasing revelations. Firstly, that she'd forgotten the white corsage she usually wore with it - but she could make do without it. Secondly, the lower half of the dress, which had once hung from her body like a silken ziggurat, now clung to her hips and rear in a way that, while appealing, had not been a thing when she'd worn it last. The dress might have remained the same size, but Panty definitely hadn't.

She blamed Kouta's cooking. He never did tell her the secret incredient in the Secret Ingredient Noodle Soup.

But she liked to fantasize~.

Now, she was adding the finishing touches to her makeup in the bathroom mirror. And doing it as quickly as she could. Not simply because she knew how to do it quickly, but because she didn't want to be in the bathroom any longer than she could help. It wasn't making any better of an impression than the room itself did. Cracked tiles, a patch of damp in one corner and a dripping tap gave an air of melancholy that only served to lower her mood even more.

Not in the least because she kept thinking about what Garterbelt had said.

All that stuff about her past, and how hanging out with Kouta had mellowed her out. Even if that was all technically true, what business was it of his? Didn't he have enough on his plate, between being a Ghost of Fuckmas Past and preaching his bullshit gospel to impressionable and vulnerable young boys? And that weird question he'd asked before vanishing - "where do you think you are right now?" What the fuck was that, even? Some kind of bullshit Zen riddle, where the answer also didn't make any sense?

The lights flickered again. Panty sighed and put the eye shadow down. God, this place was a dump. The sooner she got out of here, the better. She just hoped for two things when she got to this bullshit party - some decent dick, and hopefully to not have to talk to-

There was a noise behind her that sounded like an embarrassed cough. 

The memory of what happened the last time the lights flickered flashed through Panty's mind. She looked up.

And stared at what she saw reflected in the mirror behind her.

"...you gotta be shitting me," she said.

Friday 4 December 2020

Panty's Christmas Carol - Past (18+)

Panty Anarchy hated Christmas.

And not even for the usual reasons. That being that she'd put the newest and most high-tech sex toys money could buy on her list every year, but get coal instead. Seriously, would that sherry-chugging, home-invading creep ever get it right?! He desperately needed to get new specs, or maybe to just retire his fat ass to the Maldives while someone else took his place. Someone younger, maybe, with a six-pack instead of a beer gut and a dick that could make King Arthur's sword wilt in pathetic embarrassment.

Mmmh~ Now, that would be more like it. She'd definitely let him fill her stocking on Christmas Eve~

Ugh, that reminded her. Stocking always got whatever she wanted on Christmas. And all she ever asked for was sweets. But that was still another reason Panty hated Christmas. How was it that her bratty goth bitch of a sister got her vices fulfilled when she didn't?! There was some awful injustice in this world, and when she found the person responsible, she'd be making them regret it via the medium of holy fucking bullets.

But this year, Panty hated Christmas for quite another reason.

A letter had arrived this morning, unexpected. Stocking had got to it first, and had opened it up. The cry of surprise she gave had been one red flag, and then everything after that was an avalanche of the things. The familiar seal, the gold edging, the fancy handwriting. And one look at the invitation confirmed Panty’s worst fears in a second.

They were going back to Daten City.