He smiled as he gave the exact amount at the store's Hussie and walked away, heading for the toilets. It was Mituna Captor's, the Megaman-esque helmet equipped with a blue and red visor and four holes on top for the horns. He held a Mustard colored helmet in his hands, the large object feeling relatively light for its size. He wasn't there for this.įinally, he found it. A cue ball, Rose's cushion, various headbands… His eyes locked on Latula's glasses for an instant, but he shook his head. His eyes darted around, looking through the different items on sale. He arrived at a simple merch store, selling various items. He walked through the mass of cosplayer, knowing where he was headed and going there fast. He started walking away, his feet slightly stomping on the ground. He ground his teeth, watching her skate away with him. There weren't a lot of them around, but their mustardness was always clinging to a Latula. He glared at him, holding her hand, making her laugh, kissing her. However, she was quickly intercepted by *HIM*. He turned around to watch the Latula walk away. Rather short and chubby, with short messy blond hair and black eyes, he was far from his own ideal appearance. Years of self-doubts and slight self-bullying stopped him from seeing much worth in his own self. He wasn't handsome, he wasn't charismatic, he wasn't… Radical. He looked down, his hands rubbing together in stress. He wasn't good enough for her, at least, it is what he believed. He wanted to talk to her, to interact with her, but he couldn't. He held his heart as one passed beside him, her long black hair accidentally brushing against his face. He was in love with her, and he was in Heaven. Were she fat, skinny, tall, short, or even a man, it wasn't important. He didn't care how she looked, were it be the quality of the cosplay, or the body type of the cosplayer. But as he glanced around, there was one type of cosplayer that he always stopped to admire : the Latula Pyropes. He was wearing a simple black shirt with the libra symbol as well as brown shorts and dark shoes. He himself wasn't wearing a costume, as he didn't expect anyone to even come. The cosplay quality was as usual, from crappy, quickly put together, to frighteningly accurate. There were so many, perhaps more than non-costumed people, albeit there were more cosplayer than when the whole convention started. However, what interested him the most were the cosplayers. Candy, Meat, there was something for everyone. Merch were all over the place, from posters and horn headbands to fresh "Sopor Pies" and long nosed plushies, all sold by those strange Hussie cosplayers, making the participants wonder where the real one was. He kept looking left and right as he walked through the giant open room. He didn't expect there to be so many people. This, together with the random ball pools laying around and the permanent threat of buckets really proved the existence of something impossible : a Homestuck Convention.īuck was ecstatic. The smell of candy corn, gray face paint and fresh apple juice drifted through the air.
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