/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>38181882
Nuris move into a house and take it over, and takes over 'her' new Anon.
>there's nothing to say that the house has to be Anon's in the beginning
>find a homeless Anon
>take him to a nice house
>go in and take over the current single Mamono occupant
>introduce the Mamono to 'their' new Husbando and that he is the Master of 'his' house
>Nuri runs her house, her Husbando and his 2nd-waifu...and eventually the 3rd, and 4th... and all his different daughterfus
Simple

>>32231496

A Night Queen would never *ask* if she could crash. She'd simply appear in your kitchen (you wouldn't recall how or when she came in), and rummage through your fridge for leftovers. If you didn't have anything she fancied, you'd probably offer to cook her something, or order takeout. She'll be a gracious guest and offer to help, but you'll refuse--she's the guest after all.

She asks if you mind her smoking. Normally you'd say no--your landlord is a stickler--but you can't imagine refusing a guest, especially when the sweet scent of her pipe fills the room, tickling your nose all the way up to your brain.

She'll of course expect you to entertain her--she is the guest--but fortunately she's a very easygoing person, and she seems to just enjoy being in your company. As you play vidya or watch a movement, you'll feel a strange bond with her, as if she were an old friend, although you cannot for the life of her remember her name, or how you know her.

You'll be terribly embarrassed to have forgotten all of this, but fortunately she never presses you about it. She knows YOUR name of course, and every time she says it you feel a pleasant little shock that makes your skin turn to gooseflesh. If you didn't know better, you'd say she says your name so often on purpose.

She never seems to ask you for anything, but all night you're wracking your brain for little treats or services to do her. Your bachelor's digs seem shabby with her standing there, but she doesn't seem disappointed. After dinner she shucks out of her elegant kimono and ceremonial sandals--she's wearing a tank top and shorts underneath--and flops down on the couch with you. You lf course give her the good controller--she is a guest after all.

When it gets late, you'll suddenly panic, realizing you don't have a guest room for her. You agonize through the last 10 minutes of John Dick III: Paramore ("It wasn't just a Kobold!") Wondering whether she'll think if rude if you offer her your bed while you take the couch. Fortunately, she makes the decision for you, brushing your shoulder with an elegant hand as she gets up.

"No need to clean up tonight, Anon, you can do it tomorrow. Let's go to bed."

You follow, entranced, as her slim graceful form pads silently, leading you back to your own room.

You of course let her choose her side of the bed, and you're sure to turn the thermostat down and slide in next to her, spooning her tight all night long, whispering your love to her. You can't remember whether she's your childhood friend, lover, or wife, but you don't really care anymore.

She is your guest, after all--she deserves the best you have.