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offbrandmercyplates · 4 years

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Ms. Emmibee makes some Greek God AU Emster comics, so I follow immediately with a fanfic WEEEEE

The title of this post kind of says it all, but hey! I’m Yours The Author, and if Ms. Emmibee will allow it, the following story will be posted on my fanfiction and AO3 accounts, sooner or later. Like the first fanfic I posted here, it combines a few of the comics and even some fan art, to an extent (shout out to amee-racle for the inspiration of one of the scenes here!) into a semi-coherrent story. I originally started with an introduction scene that showed the Kore (Emmi) and Hades (Gaster) seeing but not meeting each other for the first time, but I realized the main scene I wanted to get to could be more concise and still deliver most of the same information, so I did some reworking. I hope you like it! This involves the “pomegranate” comic, mentions some stuff related to the “jewels” comic, and has a reference to amee-racle’s fan art of Kore and Hades with flower crowns! See you at the bottom!

The Meeting and the Benefits of Breaking the Rules of the Underworld

“My name is Kore. I’m the goddess of spring,” the floating humanoid in the long dress stated.

The skeleton god stared at her. “I am Hades, the King of the Underworld.” He looked a little prideful when he said that, but his expression quickly reverted to one of bewilderment. “Now I’ll ask again: how did you get down here?”

“You left the cave open when you came down here,” Kore replied.

“…Oh.” It was silent for a few moments, aside from the distant drips of water from the cave’s ceiling and the breeze Kore naturally stirred. Hades slowly pointed behind her. “The exit is that way.”

“I know.”

“…Then why don’t you leave?”

“I don’t wanna.”

“…Why?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Ah, you’re here on business. Very well; what do you wish to discuss?”

Kore held out her cupped hands. In the light of the crystals hanging from the walls and ceiling, a small pile of jewels glittered in her palms. All sorts of stones, in all sorts of colors. “You’re the one who’s been leaving these for me to find, right?” She asked.

“A-ah…” Hades blushed and tightened his grip on his golden staff. “I just—you—you liked that star sapphire I dropped, so I thought I’d let you find more,” he admitted.

Kore shifted the stones around to examine the smooth blue gem with a white star pattern in the middle. “Well… thank you!” she grinned happily, and Hades quickly adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses.

“Y-you’re welcome…”

“And I have something for you!”

“…You do?”

“Yep! I made this for you!” She put the stones away in the pouch tied to her waist, then lifted the flower crown off of her head and placed it over his own shiny crown of metal.

Hades blinked and lifted the flower crown a bit to inspect it. It was a crown of large roses, alternating between yellow blossoms with red tips and lavender blooms. The woven stems weren’t thorny at all, and they didn’t wilt, suggesting they were made with magic. “…Oh.” He slowly let the crown settle on his head. “…Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!”

It was quiet again. The pink and yellow blossoms woven into Kore’s long and wild locks shed their petals into the breeze, only to regrow and repeat the process. It was a very picturesque scene.

If Hades had lips, he’d probably be biting them nervously. This little goddess was stirring… unnecessary feelings, as well as a breeze. “You should probably go—” he began.

“Got any snacks around here?”

“…Wouldn’t… you rather eat the food from above?”

“I want to try new things.”

“Well…” he thought for a moment, then raised his free hand towards the wall of the cave. It shifted open, revealing a path that led to a garden. Kore floated through the garden, technically impolite for not having waited for permission to enter, but forgiven nonetheless. Hades followed after her. “Many from above believe that no life can exist in the Underworld,” he explained. “This is both true and misleading. Plants that die above ground regrow down here; their life force entwining with the Underworld’s logic. The food in this garden can be eaten by gods and even mortals who live above, bUT–!” He gestured wildly for her to stop.

Kore had picked a shiny red pomegranate and ripped it in half with her bare hands, revealing the glistening seeds. She had been about to dig in, but paused and looked up at him, awaiting an explanation. Hades straightened his long black tunic and tried to look calm. “But you must not eat that pomegranate.”

“Huh?” Kore cocked her head to the side, hovering at eye level. “Why not?”

“The pomegranate is sacred here. It represents the very nature of the Underworld: life,” he gestured to the little spring goddess, “and death,” he put a hand to his sternum. “It is connected to the Underworld, just as I am. If you eat its seeds, you will be bound to the Underworld, and…” he blushed, “to me.”

“Ooooh,” Kore hummed.

“Indeed.”

“…”

Without breaking eye contact, Kore shoveled every seed in both halves of the pomegranate into her mouth. Hades’ jaw dropped open, sputtering sounds barely escaping his teeth as she licked the juice from her fingers, still looking him right in the eye sockets.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” He finally managed.

“You just explained to me what it means.”

“YES, BUT—”

“So when should the wedding be?”

“THE WHAT?!”

Kore pulled some of the flowers out of her hair and began to weave them together as if she didn’t just seal her soul to a cave under the ground. “Oh, can we invite my mother, too? I feel like the Goddess of Nature wouldn’t take kindly to not being invited to her daughter’s wedding.”

“M-mother Nature?”

“Mm.”

“She is going to destroy me…” Hades covered his face with his hands.

Kore finished the new crown and set it on her head: an alternating mix of yellow primroses and pink cherry blossoms. “Don’t worry, I won’t let her. Besides, being a goddess bound to the Underworld doesn’t mean I have to be here all the time, right?”

“Well… technically, but—”

“So I can spend some time above ground and spend the rest of the time with you!”

“I—I! I…”

Kore’s smile grew smaller. “Do you not want to…?”

“No! I mean—I… won’t make a very good husband. I’ll disappoint you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She hovered next to him and gently bumped his skull with her head. “C’mon, let’s go say hello to your new mother-in-law!”

“This will not end well…”

***

I don’t know much about the logic of eating food from the Underworld in this AU (Hades specifically mentions the significance of the pomegranate, and that had to have come from somewhere), so I went with the concept that plants that die before their time or under specific circumstances can grow and bear fruit in the Underworld, and anyone can eat any of that food /except/ the pomegranates. In reality, you likely can’t eat any food from the Underworld, but it was just a thought.

Hades can open a cave to go back to the Underworld, but sometimes he forgets to close it behind him, hence how Kore got in.

Flower and jewel symbolism:

Roses generally mean affection, but the color of the rose is often extremely important! Yellow roses with red at the tips of the petals represents falling in love, while lavender-colored roses represent love at first sight.

Star sapphires are often called “the stones of destiny”, and can extend mental focus and knowledge.

Sakura blossoms are practically the living symbol of spring and can represent renewal.

Primroses represent young love, and yellow primroses can represent spring and the sun.

Hades’ “I’ll disappoint you” line is based on something similar he says in a Zarla MercyPlates comic, where Papyrus tells him to be good, and Gaster says something like “I’ll try, but I’ll just disappoint you.” Ah… parallels.

Alright, I think that’s everything. Let me know if it’s okay to post these on my fanfiction and AO3 accounts. I’ll see you around! Keep being awesome! ~~~ No YOU keep being awesome!!! This is absolutely lovely hhhhhh

You’re more than welcome to post this on AO3 and FF. I’ll definitely post it here!

Now to respond to the notes!!

The pomegranate thing is great! The pomegranate symbolism from the comic is actually based on its IRL symbolism, which is similar across many cultures (representing life and death, and also love sometimes), and I think your explanation is really cool!

Hades forgetting to close the cave door is a big mood tbh.

I recognized the “I’ll disappoint you” quote and i CRY

Have I mentioned how much I love flower symbolism??? I LOVE how you used that in this!!

Thank you so much!!!!

#offbrand mercyplates #OBMPfanfic #Yours the Author #greek gods au #gaster #emmibee #aaaaa i love thisssss #submission

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cecilspeaks · 4 years

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163 - “Bravo”

Our moral compass has been demagnetized. Welcome to Night Vale.

Night Vale, Carlos and I went to see a new play the other night. It’s been ages since we went to the theater. I think the last show we saw was “Hamilton”, which is a Tony and Pulitzer winning hip hop musical about figure skater Scott Hamilton, who died in a duel to fellow Olympian Katarina Witt. “Hamilton” was wonderful, but live theater is so expensive. It’s a rare treat for us to get out of the house, what with the cost of tickets plus dinner, parking, a babysitter, tuxedo rentals and all that time spent watching YouTube makeup tutorials for jamming facial recognition cameras.

But my friend Charles Raynor invited us as his special guests to watch the premiere of a new play at the Night Vale Asylum, where Charles is the warden. The play was called “The Disappearance and Cover-up of Flight 18713 as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of Night Vale under the Direction of Undercover Agents from the National Safety and Transportation Bureau.” Or, “18713/NTSB” for short. I’m used to seeing plays at the New Old Opera House or in the high school auditorium. There’s also the Black Box Theatre, which presents some of Night Vale’s most experimental drama from young performance artists. No one has seen any of these shows, or if they have, they’ve never emerged from that doorless black box, its walls perfectly smooth and faintly warm.

But this particular play was at the asylum itself. The Night Vale Asylum perches atop a craggy peak in the Sand Wastes. It’s brutalist concrete walls intermittently slashed with slivers of windows. I do not personally know anyone inside this intimidating institute, other than warden Raynor himself. And I’ll admit to being a bit nervous venturing out at night to a heavily guarded home for the criminally insane. But Carlos put me at ease by rolling his eyes. He said it was neurotypical ableism that makes us think this way. That movies and TV shows often play up harmful tropes about psychopaths and lunatics, planning daring escapes so they can return to a life of criminal misdeeds. Carlos explained that asylums are merely places where we hide away the people who most remind us of the inexplicable fragility of the human brain.

Driving out past the Scrublands under an indigo sky, the full moon low over the horizon backlighting the Night Vale Asylum atop its jagged rocky ridge, my nerves returned. I thought I heard coyotes howling in the distance, but it was the car stereo. Carlos had put on his favorite new Frank Ocean album called “Various Animals Screaming”. When we arrived, warden Raynor greeted us at the gates. Two guards wearing army style green dress uniforms flanked him. Their right breasts were laden with medals, chevrons and stripes. They each were armed with billy clubs, tasers and slingshots, and one of them was wearing an eye patch, but it was positioned in the middle of his forehead.

The warden escorted Carlos and me to our seats, which were simple wood chairs. There were only ten seats total, all in a single row along the rear wall. There was no standard stage to speak of, no curtain. The actors were all in costume in the center of the room, already in character. The other seats were already filled. Warden Raynor, Sheriff Sam, three of Sam’s secret police officers, two of Sam’s overt police officers, and an angel I had never met before, but who introduced themself to me as Erika. With a K, they added. “Nice to meet you, Erika,” I said. “You got ten bucks?” Erika asked. “Uh, sure,” I said. “What for?” “Not everyone gets to know everything,” they said. “You either got it or you don’t, man.” So I handed them ten bucks and minutes later my lower back pain, which has plagued me for the last six months, was gone. I looked back at Erika and I saw the wink at me, or I think they winked? They have ten eyes, so it could have just been an asynchronous blink. It’s hard to even tell what they’re ever looking at.

The play began with an introduction by warden Raynor, who welcomed us all to this unusual night. The first ever performance of an original play by inmates in his asylum. He introduced the writers/directors of the piece. There were three of them, each dressed in an electrical blue jumpsuit. One of them had a blister on his upper lip, another a swollen red lump along the cuticle of his right index finger. One of them had an unceasing nose bleed. I recognized them as the agents from the National Safety and Transportation Bureau in Washington, who had come to Night Vale two months ago to investigate the disappearance of Delta flight 18713. Sheriff Sam had placed these agents undercover in the asylum to try to meet with an inmate named Doug Biondi, who claimed to have pertinent information about the missing aircraft. Upon remembering this, I flipped quickly through my playbill to find the ensemble members’ names. And there on the title page was the name Doug Biondi, who was cast as airplane pilot. As the warden returned to his seat and before the house lights dimmed, I leaned over to Sheriff Sam and asked, “How is the undercover operation going, Sheriff?” Sam glared at me and said, “I’ve no idea what you mean.” “You know, with the NTSP officers here in the asylum trying to interview Doug Biondi?” I asked perhaps a little loudly for a theater. “The NTSP officers are criminally insane, Sessil,” the Sheriff said unironically and with more than a touch of scold in their tone. “That is why they are here. They are a danger to themselves and others.” I had many more questions, but before I could say anything, the lights faded to black, and I heard the first voice of the play.

“Find us,” called the voice in the dark. “Find us,” it echoed again. A faint glow coated like frost the wild-eyed faces of the inmates on stage. The frantic visages made all the more panic by deep eyeliner, rouge and lipstick. Most were dressed in common street clothes: slacks, jeans, buttoned-down shirts, mid-length pattern skirts. Two were dressed as flight attendants and one as the pilot. I could only presume a small budget, as the uniforms worn by the latter groups were largely suggested by navy blue hats and little plastic wings on their lapels. The pilot wore anachronistic aviation goggles and so it was difficult for me to see and remember the face of this actor, this inmate, Doug Biondi. But I could see his mouth, which was unusually white. The corners of his lips extending well past the width of his eyes. He had an unusual number of teeth in his harsh smile, a smile which never abated, even in his most somber of scenes.

“Weeee surviive,” said Biondi’s pilot character. “Weeeee livve. Weee cannot dieee. Noot here, noot in No..Where.” He said it not like the vague concept of “in no place”, but “No Where”, two words capitalized, like the name of a specific place. Each actor was seated in short tight rows of four, a narrow aisle in between, mimicking the floor plan of a common fuselage. At the front of the troup sat Doug Biondi, as airline pilot. “How did we get here, in No Where?” said one of the passengers. “And how shall we return?” said another. “Only,” they said in unison, “when you find ussss.” This last line they said with a quick twist of their necks towards the audience. Then the scene shifted, the chairs cleared and all of the actors stood in the profile of a Greek chorus. They explained the flight from Detroit, the view of lake Erie, they told stories of different passengers. One who had a job interview, one who was looking for an apartment, another who went to Palm Springs on vacation. They told the story of a bright light and a loud pop, and suddenly the engines were silent. The plane felt still, unmoving, and then the chorus all pantomimed the leaning, concerned gaze out airplane windows. Instead of tops of clouds or distant shapes of great lakes, though, they looked out and saw – children in a gymnasium. They heard the squeak of sneakers and the joyful cries of playful exercise. It felt like minutes, maybe a whole hour. They could not understand what they were seeing. They could not comprehend an elementary school gym six miles above southern Canada. But they were not six miles above southern Canada. They were only a few feet above the American Southwest, inside an airplane, inside an elementary school gymnasium, in a town called Night Vale. And as quickly as they had appeared there, they disappeared. Off the radar, gone from the skies, out of known existence. Throughout this chorus, the speakers filled our ears with the joyful shouts of children, the hollow metallic thumps of red rubber balls, and the collective panicked inhale of a 143 passengers and crew of a displaced plane, and then it was silent. And then it was dark.

A single green light appeared on the far wall, a dot, a blip. A radar blinking on, then off. And the voice of Doug Biondi said: “Weeeeeee are not passengers on a plane. Weeeee are actors. Weeee are inmates of the Asylum of Night Vale, but weeeee do not belong here. Weeee are people who know truths. People who know more than is allowed, and for that, weeeeeeeee are kept in cages. Weeeeeeee are fed poisoned pills and circular logic.” And at this point in the play, I felt movement in our small audience. The warden had stood up and was shouting: “This is not in the script, Doug!” But Doug spoke louder, faster. “Iiiii am not insane, I say! Only the insane would say such a thing they say. Then I am insane, I say. Yes you are, they say. I am trapped, I am framed, I spit out your poisoned pills! I reject your propagandist blather. I know what I know I say. Hold him down they say.” Warden Raynor had gone to the tech board and turned on all the lights. He shouted “code blue” into a radio receiver, and we saw half a dozen security officers in their green medal laden uniforms lurch from the corners of the room, penning the ensemble of inmates into a tight circle in the center. “Return them to their rooms,” the warden called.

But as the guards encroached, the three men from the NTSP stepped to the perimeter of the mass of inmates. They were holding little plastic wings just like those on the costumes of the actors playing flight attendants. One of the NTSP agents, the one with an unceasing nose bleed, opened the back of the wings, revealing a long sharp pin, and thrust it into the neck of a guard. Simultaneously, the other NTSP agents and several other actors did the same, and the guards fell to the ground. One of the NTSP agents, the one with a blister on his upper lip, grabbed the keys and weapons from an unconscious officer. “Dearest audience,” he said in verse. “We mean them no harm. ‘tis but a sleep, a little pharmaceutical rest for a uniformed guard who kept us confined, made life hard for us low level agents doing our jobs, trapped ‘neath the lies of a warden who robs our freedom and murders our spirit. At last we can go, approach the wall and clear it, but heed my warning: as we this coup fly, every man for himself, better run – or die.” And upon this last line, the alarm bells of the asylum rattled my ears and my nerves, shaking Carlos and me from our seats. The inmates scattered in every direction as Sheriff Sam and their officers gave chase. Carlos was nearly stepped on by one of the escapees, and as I bent to help him up, I was knocked over by two officers in full sprint.

When the commotion died down, I looked up and saw Erika still sitting calmly in their chair, and I asked: “Erika, what is happening?” Erika looked down at their playbill, and then back at me, and said: “I think it’s intermission.”

And now the weather.

[“One One Thousand” by Raina Rose rainarose.com]

After 15 minutes, Carlos and I returned to our seats hoping, but not truly believing it really was an intermission. We’ve seen immersive theater before, like “Sleep No More”, an interactive show in New York City where audience members are placed inside a huge warehouse of actors dancing out the plot to “Macbeth”, and at the end everyone is granted the ability to live out the rest of their lives without sleep. It’s expensive and not for everyone, but totally worth it if immersive theater is your thing. But this show was not that. No. “18713/NTSP” had gone wrong. Or, perhaps it had gone right. Under the strict critique of plot structure, character development, and production value, the play failed terribly. But as a piece of political or (agit prop) theater, it was a rousing success. The Sheriff’s Secret Police have placed roadblocks around the entire city, hoping to keep these supposedly dangerous inmates from leaving the area. It is bad optics, to say the least, for the entire population of the town’s asylum to escape custody.

But as Carlos and I left the theater space, we walked down the long corridors, cells and rooms open, no security detail in sight. In one of the cells, below a cot, was a journal. It was the journal of Doug Biondi. Page after page was filled with monologues, narratives and conversations from various people. People who were on a plane, people in transit between checkpoints of life, between relationships, between homes, between jobs, between vacation and work. These stories were written as verbatim dialogue, as if Doug Biandi had transcribed them himself. As if he could hear the voices of those very people. Like former air traffic controller Amelia Anna Alfaro. I wonder if Doug heard the same voices. The same passengers of the missing plane. I had my intern Seamus go down to the library and look up public records on Doug Biondi, hoping to find some connection between Doug and Amelia, but Seamus still has yet to return with that information . I even double checked my playbill looking for Amelia’s name in the cast or crew, but she was not listened here. She was likely never in the asylum.

One thing I did find, though, was a note in the back of Doug’s journal. This note seemed to be in Doug’s own voice. “They tell us we are kept here for our safety, but they keep us here for their safety. They fear what will happen when the people on that plane are found. But I think they have already been found. They should be afraid of what happens when the people on the plane find us.”

Night Vale is on lockdown, so stay home and stay safe, listeners. I do not believe any of us to be in danger from those who escaped the asylum, but I do believe us to be in danger of most everything else. Stay tuned next for a serious of audio clicks, which is definitely not federal agents tapping your radio. Don’t worry about it.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

#welcome to night vale #welcome to night vale transcripts #episode 163 #bravo

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a-silent-symphony · 4 years

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”I JUST MADE TWO ALBUMS BECAUSE I WANTED THEM” – MEETING MARKO HIETALA

Interview with Marko Hietala – mostly known as bass player and vocalist of Nightwish – while touring to promote his solo album “Pyre of The Black Heart”

I came to learn a bit more about the album he produced in Finnish as well as in English but even more to find out whether or not there is hope to see Tarot [Marco and Zachary Hietala, Janne Tolsa, Tommi Salminen] on stage one day back.

We meet in perhaps the most reknown venue for metal concerts in Switzerland, Z7 in Pratteln near Basel. While Marko’s band mates have their dinner with their friends of Oceanhoarse next door, we’re chatting in a cosy and quiet backstage room.

Speaking with Marko is an experience of its own. The quiet setting is critical here and provides another stage as he is a natural storyteller. There is hardly one word that comes not most consciously intonated in a perfectly chosen emotionality. Unfortunately, it will hardly be possible to translate neither atmospheres nor moods he puts with apparent easiness into his statements so you could experience.

“I know that sign”, mouthes Marko when he takes notice of my shirt. Tarot merch is rarely seen and even less outside of Finland. While still checking the settings of the recording, I begin that already roughly 15 years back I heard or read the first time about his idea to come up with a solo album. – “Probably, yeah. Because it’s been talked now and then on and off. I’s just been writing stuff and then it ends up to the bands that I’ve been playing with and then there is some stuff which have been saving because I figured it would be good. And also some things became so personal that I didn’t give them off. So the solo album, I’d say most of the stuff is written in close to like three years back when we started to work on it. But there are some pieces that go back all those 15 years, maybe even more. I can’t tell for certain because some thing I’ve been saving and some I connected to some newer stuff.”

Listening to “Stones”, my first association was: this is a new Tarot song. But how does Marko see this? “It could perfectly fit on one their albums.” – “Yeah, it could be.” Some other song gave me a similar impression. “Yes, sure, some of them could be,” he replies thoughtful. “But, hmmm?” His voice is very vivid. He uses it like a painter uses colours. This very conscious use of his voice tells the listener when he thinks, when it is easy to reply or how important particular word or even a single syllable is to him. As there is hardly any other noise around us his soft and warm voice fills the atmosphere. A most pleasant atmosphere, actually.

“How do you make up your mind anyway to tell which songs goes where?” – “Well, let’s say that for instance, that “Stones”, the song came after our drummer in Tarot died and after I’m gonna be doing the solo album. So that is how this song came to be there. And there are some elements in the song that we didn’t use that much in Tarot. For instance the kind of a standard-like the riff that goes in the chorus, the whole melody line is like classic Scandinavian or Finnish folk song type of melody which I got put there just for the help of it. Because it got a nice combination as is the Mediterranean guitar or the straight Blues melody.” We laugh as he is getting into such details. “This was a … Yeah, we’re coming to the area where it was …, where this had a lot of freedom to do whatever I wanned. And this was also one of the things why I wanted new guys to play with me and arrange with me in order to find fresh angles.”

Marko Hietala has come to play with numerous well-known faces, musicians he has worked with for many a years. “Yeah, with Vili [Ollila] and Tuomas [Wäinölä] we’ve been doing this Christmas tour thing for ….” – “like 15 years?” – “Yeah, like 15, years since the guys went in the project? I was in some years earlier when they came in and they have been there ever since. Soooo,” he draws the “o” quite long to think, “maybe I have 15 years and they have 12. So long years enough.”

“Absolutely”, I agree. If you have seen Marko on stage with several of his numerous projects you will have noticed the different energies and chemistries working. This might result from the different lineups acting together which results in different chemistries working. But it could point towards differing priorities or degrees of importance to Marko, too. So has any project that outweighs the others? “Oooohhh, this solo stuff became pretty important to me. It’s been growing a band from it that we started as a solo project. We’ve been having these shows and we’ve been having a good time with the guys. So it’s become surprisingly important. But then of course I got the main thing”, laughing he goes on, “which you probably know.” A tad more rational again: “That will always take me around the world. But in the meantime, and what I do in all the off years, I think this solo stuff is probably the most likeliest thing to be something that I’ll be now continuing.” And then he automatically switches to the topic that – to be honest – interests me a little more than the rest: “With Tarot the situation is that since our drummer died we kind of it dropped into a limbo. … There is unfinished music and all that but it hasn’t been …” he pulls the “ee” sound this time to bite some seconds for wording his thoughts. “But it hasn’t been a happy thought to touch it and playing in a Rock’n’Roll band you should have more grin on your face than fry” – “True.” – “No matter how you do it on stage.”

“I see. Naturally it is very, very difficult to go with Tarot now.” – “Yeah, because we played together for so long. Over 30 years! Yeah.” His voices fades before he continues: “So it’s of in a limbo.” He takes another breath. “We have at least some ideas and we could do an album out of them if weeeee …. edited the existing drum tracks and add some drum tracks from the old ones. So weeee’d basically have the same lineup. Buuut – that would be a lot of work!”

Tarot released their last studio album (save for the remastered “Spell Of Iron”, 2011) in early 2010, “Gravity Of Light”, toured in Finland immediately and in the fall of the same year continental Europe with The Man Eating Tree. A tour supporting Pain on another tour was planned soon after that but cancelled. First Tarot dropped out because one band member is severely ill, as they explained back then and soon Pain cancelled, too. There were only very few gigs, Tarot were able to play before their drummer’s, Pecu Cinnari’s disease grew too severe. He died in September 2016.

The topic is an emotional one and I am grateful that Marko spoke of it at all. Sadness still lingers in the air so I decide to move to another topic.

When back in February this year, I met Marko for this interview and to attend his magnificent show, neither him nor me or you had any idea the world was about to go upside down soon and the entire event industry was to implode. What a perfect setting for one of Tarot’s songs?! Those songs leading us into sci fi settings, only this is real and not a scenario written by a black humoured musician prone to dark and gloomy lyrics as Marko Hietala sees himself.

The show that night was one of those you don’t forget easily. Honest to the bone, authentic, vivid, brilliant speaking of the musical expertise on stage. While many shows nowadays are reduced to sort of bringing the album version on stage as close as can be, Marko presented his album and three cover songs in live versions, each perfectly rearranged. Remarkably different from the album. New moods. New angles. And honest. Rearranged to fit the musicians on stage, providing space to show and experience their excellence.

Enjoy some visual impressions and read more in our On-Stage Review here.

Or check out the show in Z7 yourself. The video was recorded during the show that night.

#marko hietala #2020 interviews

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nauseateddrive · 4 years

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I ALMOST KILLED MY FURBY by Kristine Brown

"One day, you'll say, 'I want kids.'"

Surely. Pfft.

"...so keep in mind that when you do have children, you know that..."

I find that when it comes to offspring, precedents are implausible. But, go on.

"When are you having kids?"

Thanks for your concerns, people older than myself. By the way, I'm twenty and I just moved in with the guy.

* * *

Many of these discussions took place in 2012. Today, I'm twenty-eight. A generous plenty say I look seventeen, twelve on days speckled with sunshine and free of humidity. I have not seriously dated a man in more than two years. Silence is joyful, and my bank account is calm. I should also mention that my vocal chords are so much less strained because I've hardly engaged in another argument about when to get pregnant, how many times, and who would perform tasks of necessity while the other did all the indoctrination. My first relationship - the only serious one I've had - was outwardly quirky in that Wall-E and EVE sort of way, but if anyone was our neighbor, he or she would tell a different story. My live-in boyfriend had a dogged coldness resembling Kevin Lomax from The Devil's Advocate, and my meltdowns were just as grating as Mrs. Lomax's pleas to just "make a baby." Oddly enough, he was the one proposing plans for The Spawning. I just wanted him to spend time with me more.

My opinion on kids? I would make for an unfit mother. Possibly because of maladaptive behaviors, my urge to crush Pepsi cans to bite-sized accordions, a desensitization to insults my friends would classify as "bullying." I couldn't possibly impart a set of ethics to foster happiness and prosperity in the life of a child. "Oh, but that would be my job, love bug." Let's assume that besides diapering, clothing, breastfeeding, and these advanced duties to follow, I couldn't possibly have any sort of influence on my child. Doubtful.

Sometimes, whether at work or in a doctor's office, I witness an angry child thrashing a baby doll, or a careless, soporific child who drags the tiny mannequin by the hair. The parent may reprimand the child, and might even say: "Look what you did to your baby. No, don't do that!"

I can't say I've had these experiences, at least at a very young age. I never took an interest in baby dolls. Now, I do remember having multiple miniature dolls either given to me by older children or found in the clamor of Saturday swap meets. I do remember the Ken and Barbie, not genuinely Mattel but sufficiently humanoid to warrant their being called such. And with the screech of cheap Velcro, their garments were gone, and Ken slept on top. Well, I thought they were sleeping, but adults were displeased with my mission in choreography. I never saw those miniature knockoffs again. Predictably, I was supervised as I played with the Native American doll set. The male was removed, and eventually, so was the horse.

The clarity of my childhood memories astounds a handful of people, partly because of my current tendency to gloss over details and fail to follow directions. I could readily retell the plots and messages of numerous commercials in the mid-to-late '90s, the older Generation X-ers nodding and smirking in a way that asks, "Why do you know all this?" I was especially terrified of public safety announcements. "Only you can prevent forest fires" disconcerts me as much as "Hi, I'm Chucky. Wanna play?” But one campaign I couldn't tolerate was the one with the shaken baby. The teddy bear etched in stone, the infant's screams in the background, a camera in a dance of epilepsy. Then you see the whole tombstone and something along the lines of "Our Beloved Child." I think I was five or six at the time, but that was quite a horror flick.

What the frustrated adult committed against the baby, I would replicate three years later. To my Furby.

We were better off then and at this point my parents had learned the rules of Keeping Up with the Joneses. But they didn't buy the Furby. Even now, I question the merits by which he entered our home. Oreo. That's what my babysitter's older sister introduced him as, placing the box in my twiggy little arms, pinching my cheeks because that's what people do to you when you're eight, chubby, and loudly pretentious. She was fired the week after. I still remember being asked if the Furby was supposed to be paid for.

So consensus states that Furbies are Satan's little mercenaries. Infantilized Gremlins, wingless bats with beaks, sorely mutated flying monkeys. Whatever they may be, and in whatever year they were manufactured and marketed, we know that each and every Furby could use obedience classes with S.T.F.U. Consulting (I suppose we should add "LLC" to this, protecting the venture from lawsuits should the classes not work). That little gem plastered onto their foreheads? I don't believe it was ever a sophisticated camera, or a recording device. I couldn't teach Oreo anything. If I couldn't make him dance like my friends could with theirs, how could my children follow simple rules? Not that I was making this irrational connection in 1998, but my friends often joked that as much as I carried that loudmouth around, he was "kinda" my baby.

Furbies have this creepy voice a bit too similar to that of an aggressive cougar you've either known or heard of with a burgeoning case of emphysema. Yes, I also remember some graphic anti-smoking ads. I think above all demands, mine's signature croon was "Hungry." I'd press my finger on its plastic red tongue to hear those simpering "Mmmm"s and so many "Hungry"s that wouldn't cease no matter how often I fed the damn thing. Frustrated, I'd bury Oreo beneath layers of blankets, chuck him in multiple pillowcases, wedge him beneath the wall and my mattress. His nighttime cravings annoyed us all.

There was a point where I was reprimanded harshly for walking by Oreo during his "naps." We had had it with his shit.

We couldn't figure out how to turn the fucker off. Honestly, I don't remember anyone even taking steps to activate the Furby. He came into the world as is. It's eerily similar to those robotic babies they hoist onto high school freshmen in state-mandated health class. Abstinence only, this will teach you. And in those health classes I do remember some frustrated girls perpetrating acts of legitimate mannequin abuse. Kind of like those angry toddlers in doctors' offices. Oreo once again begged for food. I couldn't quite teach him to dance on cue. He never did anything other Furbies did in all the commercials. I knew you could rub them on the tummy and all, but I thought, "What if I turn him upside down?"

And he hung from my grasp, looking very much like an obese bat that lost its wings long atrophied. Characteristically, he screamed, "Weeeeee. Fun!"

My intention was to punish him. So I shook him.

"Weeeee. Fun! Tuba, woah! Do do do do do dooooo..."

(Oreo uttered this phrase multiple times. I could never really make out exactly what he was saying, but I am certain that he did say "Tuba.")

As my hands were too tiny for one to do all the handling, I tried to spin him around. Really, I churned the animatronic butterball in multiple directions, my arms growing tired, my frustrations projected.

"Woahhh! Woahhh!"

I continued with this odd punishment.

"Woaaaahhhh! Me scared!"

The cry was loud. But that "Me scared" was a bit unsettling. It was a mix between a coo and a gasp, like he knew what I was trying to do. But I continued in my campaign to silence Oreo.

"Whooopeeeee! Fuuuunnnn!"

Blatantly contradicting the sentiments expressed immediately prior. I continued.

"Woaaahhh! Me scared! Heeeee."

That "heeee" actually sounded remorseful. I felt a twinge of remorse. But it wasn't enough, as I did continue.

Repeatedly, he would cry about being scared. And suddenly, a snorting sound. And while he hung upside down, the base of his odd little person in the clutches of my white-knuckled hands, he spoke the awaited mantra.

"Wooooo. Wooooo. Wooooo. Something something. Cocoa."

(Again, it's often hard for me to properly recall exactly what that thing said. I'm pretty confident he said "cocoa." He had some decent taste.)

And silence. For a good two years. Despite several jabs and pinches in evenings to follow, Oreo persisted in his slumber. Or coma.

Twenty years later, and I'm ordering books on Amazon to better address my anger, impatience, and tendency to seethe. Babies, and children in general, stay absent in my plans. But really, no one would take the story of Oreo seriously enough in reviewing my constant fears. That day, I became a little scared of myself.

Kristine Brown shuffles between poetry, prose, data entry, and wishing she could properly fly a kite. She photographs strangers' cats and writes poems for them. You can find these poems on her blog, Crumpled Paper Cranes (https://crumpledpapercranes.com). Her writing appears in Hobart, Philosophical Idiot, Burningword Literary Journal, among others. Her novel, Connie Undone, will be released on March 1st, 2020.

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glowysweetfab · 7 years

Text

Rivals: Arena of Love

So this is for the rom com prompts that were posted by @richonnefics I picked Rivals. I am late posting it because of Stranger Things 2 but here it is. If you like or don’t like let me know below. :D Also s/o to all the Richonne peeps in the ATL at WSC!!!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chapter 1

“Michonne, I would like to commend you for dealing with Tyreese and his 48-hour marriage fiasco. Thank you for thinking on your toes and turning a protentional PR nightmare into a romantic fairy tale the press loves.” Everyone in the room applauded as Michael Hudson, president of Atlanta’s premier sports management agency, praised the woman sitting to his right. Michonne Harris beamed, taking in the moment as her colleagues smiled and congratulated her.

These moments are all I have ever worked for. Michonne thought to herself. Looking over at her tall handsome boss, who she secretly dubbed her mahogany Adonis. Specially to know, that the Michael Hudson respects my work and knows who I am. Even if it’s completely unprofessional for us to ever date at least he knows who I am.

Michonne smiled at Mike until she caught sight of the man seated next to him. Her smile promptly falls. Rick Grimes slowed clapped and looked bored, shooting her an insincere smile when he caught sight of her watching him.

Ugh. If only the spawn of Satan had called in sick today.

Rick Grimes started working at Hudson Sports Management at the same time as Michonne. Although Michonne had worked her way up from mail clerk to becoming a junior agent, Rick Grimes was the son of an NFL legend and not to mention the younger brother of current Falcon’s quarterback Jeffery Grimes. The Grimes name commanded respect in the sports world and opened doors, which, as far as Michonne was concerned Rick sauntered right through. Michonne kept her distaste for his nepotism thinly veiled and managed to undermine a few of his deals, signing clients right from under him. Rick was privy to her games from day one and retaliated in the same fashion.

“Yes, congratulations Michonne. If I ever get married, it’s nice to know you double as a wedding planner.” Rick said, referring to how she staged the scene to look romantic rather than the seedy affair it was. With a clap he stood from his sit, Michonne shot him a look of annoyance which made him smile. Glancing down at his phone, “I actually have some news of my own, just sent to me from my assistant, Jessie.” Rick paused. “I have just signed Abraham Ford away from Savior Sports Entertainment Group!” He announced, and the room erupted. Abraham Ford was currently the best baseball player in the league, this was a huge coup.

“Now this is the kind of status meeting I like to have!” Mike said, standing up patting Rick on the back. “We need to have a dinner with Abe tonight. Really welcome him to the Hudson family.”

“I will have Jessie make the arrangements.” Rick said, smiling at Mike.

“Well, if no one has any new business then we are adjourned for the day.” Mike said. “You all keep up the good work.”

Michonne seethed quietly as people walked up to Rick congratulating him. She sighed and stood up from her seat to collect her belongings. Mike walked up to her.

“Michonne, I would love it if you could drop by my office before you leave tonight.”

Michonne couldn’t help but perk up. “Of course.” She smiled. Anything for you, chocolate fox.

She watched him leave out of the conference room. Oh, wow, alone time with Mike in his office. Weeeee! Michonne’s smile widened as she turned from the conference table and bumped hard right smack into Rick Grimes. Her tablet and leatherette portfolio case nearly went flying out of her hands but Michonne held them tight in her grip as she wobbled on her heels. Rick’s hands grasped her upper arms, steadying her so she wouldn’t fall over.

“Jesus Christ, Grimes!”

“I am sorry, Michonne.”

She jerked out of his hold. “Why are you standing behind me?”

“I just wanted to congratulate you again on Tyreese. An athlete’s indiscretions can spell disaster for their career, but you prevented that from happening.”

“Save it Grimes.” Michonne said, pulling her purse on her shoulder. “My intel says he met Karen through you a few months ago. Correct me if I am wrong, but isn’t she one of the little trollops you have on retainer to entertain clients?”

Rick smiled, glancing at the floor before looking Michonne in the eyes. His blue eyes twinkling mischievously. Rick was a few feet taller than Michonne, with thick, wavy brown hair. Rick wore designer suits that he had custom tailored and it was quite clear he worked out. The bastard would be kinda cute if he wasn’t so smug. Michonne thought shifting on her feet waiting for an answer.

“I believe I did introduce them…”

“Exactly! Keep your gold-digging floozies away from my clients, Grimes.” Michonne said, moving to walk around Rick.

“If I remember correctly, I introduced you to Tyreese and his sister, the next thing I know he’s signing on to have you manage him.”

Michonne stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. “Rick, I think what’s most important is that Tyreese became a client with Hudson.” She smiled sweetly at Rick. “Like Mike says, we’re a family, we’re a team.”

Rick chuckled, scratching his nose. “Expect you’re the one pocketing 15% in commission.”

“Oh, I am sorry Rick. Is the son of legendary football player Robert K. Grimes, a multimillion dollar public figure all of his life, in need of more money?”

Rick’s jaw twitches angrily. “This is not about money-“

“Good.” Michonne said interrupting him. “Then you shouldn’t be upset that I signed Tyreese and you shouldn’t be trying to sabotage his public image.” She turned around to leave.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me on signing Abraham?”

Michonne turned around to look at Rick again. She had spent the past 6 months chasing leads that suggested Abe was ready to change management groups. She had been this close to securing a meeting with his longtime girlfriend, Rosita, who basically handled everything in his day to day life when Tyreese’s 48-hour marriage fiasco happened. Rick Grimes was certainly behind her missing the biggest get in her career and he was going to pay for it.

Michonne smiled at Rick. “Congratulations.” She turned around and walked out of the room. Michonne starred at her reflection in the mirror of her Fenty Beauty compact. After a long day spent on the phone with lawyers, lunching with perspective sponsors, and assuaging client fears that they would be cut from teams or that she would get them “phat contracts” she was exhausted. There was also the matter of getting Tyreese’s marriage annulled quietly while the press wrote it up as star-crossed lovers finding one another one magical night. Fucking Rick Grimes.

Only one thing sounded better to her than a glass of cabernet sauvignon and her comfy PJs, and that was spending time with Mike Hudson. Besides being incredibly sexy, he was a brilliant business man who rebuilt a floundering sports management agency into Hudson Sports Management, making it his own. Michonne was infatuated with him the first time she met him.

She applied fresh lipstick to her plump lips and smiled at her buttery, smooth umber complexion. She smoothed down the edges of her hair, pushing her long dreadlocks off her shoulder, she pinned them back with a pearl hairclip. Michonne applied a light spritz of her Flowerbomb perfume by Viktor & Rolf and stood up to smooth down the fabric of her belted shift dress. Michonne took a deep breath.

“Okay. You can do this Michonne.” She said to herself. Smiling she exited her office and saw her assistant flipping through a magazine.

“Tara, I think everything is taken care of for tonight. You can head home.”

“You sure?” Tara asked, looking up from her magazine. “I thought you had a meeting with Mr. Hudson, he might give you some last-minute work.”

“That’s okay, Tara. I am sure whatever it is I can handle it.”

“Okay boss lady.” Tara said with a shrug, “I will see you mañana.”

Michonne waved good bye to Tara and headed to Mike’s office. She had to walk past Rick’s office as she made her way to Mike’s, his door was closed but she could hear the laughter of him and his assistant, Jessie. Michonne frowned thinking about how open his unprofessional behavior in the office was.

How can you judge when you want Mike to bend you over his desk?

Michonne smiled to herself as she made it to Mike’s door. She knocked and waited, inhaling.

“Come on in!” Mike called from behind the door. Normally his assistant would announce who was calling but he had sent her home just as Michonne had sent her assistant home.

Michonne pushed opened the door and entered Mike’s enormous office. His office windows had a gorgeous view of the Atlanta skyline and the city lights twinkled in the room as Mike worked by the light of a single lamp. Mike stood as Michonne entered, holding out his hand, gesturing toward the art deco chairs in front of his desk.

“Good evening, Michonne. I am so happy you had time for me.”

“Of course. I have to make time for the boss.” Michonne said, smiling at him as she descended into her seat.

“For that I am grateful, you are of my best agents I know how difficult it is schedule time with you. I wish everyone had your work ethic, make my job so much easier.”

Michonne chuckled, as she crossed her legs. “I just really care about acquiring the best talent out there and representing them with everything I have.” She replied, taking in her handsome boss, stripped of his suit jacket, sleeves rolled up, and his tie sitting on his desk.

“You’re doing an amazing job of that.” Mike said, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t know where Hudson would be without you.”

“Are you serious?” Michonne asked, incredulously. “You are the reason I work so hard. Working for you drives me. I mean, because I see everything that you’ve accomplished, and I want to emulate that.” Michonne stopped talking. I am rambling.

Mike gave Michonne his signature megawatt smile that he used when wooing new clients or for having his picture taken at important dinner parties. The smile that made her heart go pitter patter. He stood and went to the front of his desk, perching himself on the edge. “You have no idea how much that pleases me. Michonne when I hired you, I knew that there was something special about you.” Mike leaned close to Michonne. “You’ve proven me right.” He said softly, looking deep into her eyes.

Michonne felt all the oxygen leave her body. She had never been this close to him before. God, he smells so good. His lips look so kissable. I just want to –

Knock, Knock

Mike sat up but remained perched on the edge of his desk. “Come in.”

To Michonne’s chagrin Rick Grimes entered the room. “I hope I am not interrupting anything.” Rick said as he made his way to the seat beside Michonne.

“No, not all.” Mike said. “We were waiting for you.”

We were?

“Good evening, Michonne.” Rick greeted her, an amused expression on his face. Michonne resisted the urge to roll her eyes but greeted Rick with a curt nod.

Rick smiled and turned his attention to Mike. “I have dinner reservations for 9:30 by the way.” He said.

“That’s great. My fiancée should be done beautifying herself before then.” Mike replied. Michonne felt her heart drop in her stomach.

“Fiancée?!”

Both men’s eyes fell on Michonne at her outburst. “I am sorry.” She apologized quickly. “I just didn’t know you and Lori hadn’t gotten engaged. I don’t remember you mentioning it and I feel like I would have remembered.” Michonne explained. Mike and Lori had been dating for about a year and a half. They met at the annual office Christmas party and Michonne had noted how the tall, leggy brunette instantly captured Mike’s eye. Mike had a type, every man does, right? However, these women never lasted long. Mike worked long hours and always, always, always put Hudson first. Other women just couldn’t compete with his business.

Michonne always assumed that the only woman who could handle Mike and his schedule was her. The timing just wasn’t right for them and of course he was her boss. It was definitely unethical to date him now, but she wouldn’t be a lowly sports agent forever. One day, Mike would give her an executive position and they would work even closer together and he would fall madly in love with her. Michonne took a deep breath, that wasn’t going to happen now. Michonne knew just who to blame. Rick Grimes and Lori Collins had grown up together, dated briefly, but remained good friends. He brought her along to their company’s annual Christmas party and introduced Lori to their boss. The rest is history. Rick Grimes had gotten in her way…again.

“Well we got engaged a few weeks ago and I have been a little busy, but I plan to announce it soon to the rest of the office.” Mike said, gazing down at Michonne.

“Oh, well congratulations. I am so happy for you and Lori.” Michonne replied, forcing a smile on her face.

“Thank you.” Mike said, before turning his attention back to Rick. “You bringing a date tonight?”

“No, sir.” Rick replied. “Flying solo this evening.”

“Really?” Michonne asked, turning to look at Rick. “Jessie isn’t going? I could have sworn I heard you two laughing in your office on my way here.”

“Yea, well Jessie was showing me video of her son in his school play from yesterday. I have already let her go for the evening, so she could have dinner with her kids.”

“Oh.” Michonne said, quietly. Secretly disappointed that Rick had a reasonable explanation for hanging around his attractive assistant. Michonne had had enough. “So, boss what exactly is this meeting about?”

“I have a lead on two gifted athletes right here in Atlanta. They’re twin brothers, dominating in two different sports fields and they’re about to graduate high school.” Mike said. “These are the most talented up and coming athletes I have ever seen. They need to be at Hudson. They need Hudson.”

Michonne nodded. “I assume you’re talking about Heath -“

“And Noah Taylor.” Rick said, finishing Michonne’s sentence.

“I knew my top two agents would already be up to speed on this. Any leads?”

“Well Noah wants to go to college and playing tennis the way he does has earned him a scholarship to at least 6 different schools here in the ATL.” Michonne said.

“Health excels at basketball, wants to go pro and has no desire for college but like Noah got scholarships to his choice of schools. He must wait at least one year before he can be drafted; I think that year would be better spent playing ball in college.”

Mike nodded. “The only problem is these kids don’t have a mom and dad who can pay for representation they won’t return a profit for a long time and that’s ok because I know in the long run having them apart of Hudson is the best thing for them. The best thing for us.” Mike glanced at his watch. “We gotta get going soon.” He said to Rick standing and grabbing for his tie.

Rick nodded and stood. Michonne stood as well, still not understanding the point of this meeting, or why Rick Grimes had to be involved.

“So, you want either me or Rick to sign them?” She asked, watching as her boss fixed his tie, rolled down his sleeves, and put on his suit jacket.

“I want you and Rick to sign them.”

“What!?” Rick and Michonne said in unison.

Mike grabbed his briefcase and turned to look at his two bemused employees. “Look. You know we aren’t the only sports agency who wants them. I had to find a way to set us apart from the rest. These kids come from nothing, been poor all their life. Who better to introduce to the benefits of having a successful career than the son of Robert Grimes, give them a glimpse into that world.” Michonne could feel Rick shifting uncomfortably on his feet beside her as he exhaled.

“Michonne you’re level headed, smart, and you will make sure these kids always get the best deal for them.” Mike said, walking toward his office door. “They have no other parental figures in their life other than their grandma and their coaches. I want you both to become the mom and dad they always wanted but never had.” Mike opened the door to his office. “Do you two think you can handle that?”

Rick and Michonne glanced at each other before answering.

“Yes.”

“Great.” Mike smiled at them as he gestured toward the open door of his office. Rick and Michonne got the hint and headed out. After Mike locked up he turned to them both, “I look forward to hearing how everything goes with the Taylor twins.” To Rick he said. “I need to pick up Lori, so we will meet you at the restaurant?”

Rick nodded. “Yes, sir.” Mike bid Michonne a good night and moved toward the elevators. Michonne watched him walk away from her. She suddenly felt dizzy, tonight was too much, too fast. Mike who she’s pined over and lusted after for years is now suddenly engaged. Then to top it off he assigns her to work with a man she has loathed since he waltzed into the office like he owned the place.

Michonne walked past Rick, practically ran into her office, shutting herself inside. Leaning against the door she took as many calming breaths as she could. I will not cry at work. I will not cry at work. Her eyes burned as she refused to let the angry tears spill. Michonne blinked them away and walked to her desk. She fell into her comfy white office chair and turned to face the windows. Her view wasn’t as nice as Mike’s, it looked inside another office building but Michonne still enjoyed it. Most of their staff was gone for the evening and a single janitor moved about vacuuming the floor, dancing to whatever music he was listening to from the CD player on his cleaning cart.

“Michonne.”

Michonne startled in her chair and spun around to face Rick Grimes, who was staring down at her as he stood over her desk.

“Jesus Christ, Grimes! Don’t you knock or was all that money growing up not used to teach you manners?!”

Rick glared at her angrily but Michonne was prepared for whatever little quip he was going to throw at her. This was impossible there was no way on planet earth they could ever work together. Mike must have lost his damn mind. How could he –

“I am sorry.” Rick said closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath. Michonne looks at him in confusion. Where is the snappy comeback? “May I sit, please?” He asks her. Michonne gestures toward one of the seats in front of her desk. Rick seats down and runs his fingers through the stubby hair beginning to grow on his face, looking off into nothing. Michonne just watches him as he appears to be gathering his composure.

Finally, Rick looks at her, his blue eyes boring into her dark brown ones. “We need to call a cease fire.” He finally says, softly. “I did try to sabotage Tyreese’s image by having Karen seduce him. I was pissed you stole him from me. I worked tirelessly with the Williams family for months only to have you steal him away.”

Michonne just looked at Rick. He wasn’t lying. Rick put in a great deal of work with Tyreese and his sister, someone the athlete trusted more than anyone, but in the end Michonne found a way to bond with Sasha subsequently convincing her to end their working relationship with Rick, not to mention wasting all the time Rick had spent wooing them.

“I think considering you used Tyreese’s situation as a distraction to take Abe Ford away from me then we’re even.”

“That was dumb luck. I overheard Jessie and Tara talking one day, she mentioned booking a lunch at a restaurant that Rosita loves, and I just put two and two together.” Rick said with a shrug.

Dirty bastard

“Look,” Rick said, sitting up running his hand through his thick curls. “We need to put all this shit in the past if we’re going to sign the Taylor twins. I can’t work with you if I think you’re gunning for my clients.”

Michonne smirked at Rick. “I scare you that much, Grimes?”

“Yes.” Rick says simply. Michonne’s jaw drops. “Look, you know how talented you are. Mike knows it. I know it. I have always known it. Mike is right about us teaming up on this one. I just need to know I can trust you.”

What exactly is this man playing at? Does he take me for a fool? Get me nice and comfortable, then snatch the twins and my other clients from me. Michonne looks at Rick and is prepared to tell him where to go but the forlorn look on his face gives her pause. She takes a deep breath.

“Fine. A cease fire, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be watching you.”

“Michonne, we have to trust each other for this to work.” Rick sighs, glancing at his watch.

“Trust. Like respect, is something you earn. For the time being, while we make contact with the Taylor twins we will have a cease fire. That’s the best I can promise you.” Michonne said, crossing her arms.

Rick sighed again, running his hand through his thick, wavy brown hair. “Fuck.” He mutters, under his breath. “Fine.” Rick stands holding his hand out to Michonne. “Deal?”

Michonne eyes his hand wearily before reaching out and grasping it in her own. His hand grasps her firmly.

“Deal.”

#richonnefics #richonne #richonne fanfiction #richonne fanfic #rom com #rivals #rick grimes #michonne #the walking dead

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chimerojeon · 6 years

Text

tagged by my lovely eomma @chimeymie 💜 may eomma always have a blessful day i love you 🐾

rules: answer these 85 statements about yourself, then tag 20 people.

tagging; i only have few busy cuties soooo @jikoookmin13 @j-home and @jjangjjangtaeboongboong

🔹 last

1. drink - iced coffee

2. phone call - my mom hehe 💕

3. text message - @j-home before i slept last night wee 😘

4. song you listened to - Love Scenario by my boys iKon ! (please give them a lot of loves)

5. time you cried - two or three weeks ago when i was sooooo sick i cant breathe and i miss @jikoookmin13 so much at that moment so yeah 💓

🔹 ever

6. dated someone twice - i think so, i have never been in proper relationship lol

7. kissed someone and regretted it - nope

8. been cheated on - nope never

9. lost someone special - for now no, hoping all my love ones will be in full health

10. been depressed - fighting with it since 2011

11. gotten drunk and thrown up - i am not a drinker tho

🔹 fave colours

12. rosegold

13. black

14. pink

(BLACKPINK IN YOUR AREA ok sorry bye)

🔹 in the last year have you…

15. made new friends - yeps, my platonic soulmate @jikoookmin13 💜

16. fallen out of love - i think, no?

17. laughed until you cried - yes

18. found out someone was talking about you - yes

19. met someone who changed you - i changed myself but i think i changed to better a bit aftet meeting @jikoookmin13 💕

20. found out who your friends are - yes

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list - nope noppie no

🔹 general

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl - actually all of them but i dont remember where and when i met them

23. do you have any pets - yes, 2 fully adult female cats with 2 baby kittens named Kookie and Mochi (yes i have JiKook in my house lol)

24. do you want to change your name - i wanna make my name shorter but i guess its fine so no

25. what did you do for your last birthday - it was on 26th Jan aka last Thursday, my mom buy me a lot of food and I received a very special present from @jikoookmin13 and @j-home made me cry with her words lol

26. what time did you wake up today - at 5am because i have to go to work sadly

27. what were you doing at midnight last night - sleeeeeeeeep

28. what is something you cant wait for - BLACKPINK BLOODY COMEBACK YG MAKE MY GIRLS COMEBACK PLEASE BUT WELL IM GLAD YOU MAKE IKON COMEBACK TOO

29. WHERE IS THE QUESTION FOR NUMBER 29 THO

30. what are you listening to right now - people talking, glass clinking im at work (in a food shop or something like that) so yeah

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom - nope

32. something that’s getting on your nerves - my 16 years old niece who keeps talking and singing and annoying me lol and also my 14 years old brother who is pretty much ANNOYING

33. most visited website - AO3 and Wattpad are the most but I often visit Twitter and trust me, I dont actually visit Tumblr much lol

34. hair colour - black with some really dark brownish streaks

35. long or short hair - Short

36. do you have a crush on someone - my classmate during college days but i mived on now and haha i think im not crushing anyone now (is crushing on Blackpink and BTS counted?

37. what do you like about yourself - My body hahahahahahahhahaha i have that small figure that everyone envy no jokes

38. want any piercings? - nope hahaha

39. blood type - trust me idk lol

40. nicknames - Hera, Syero weeeee

41. relationship status - married to @j-home but I think she wanna divorce me for some weird reason hm lol hahaha im single as in really single sadly

42. zodiac - aquarius

43. pronouns - she, her (?)

44. fave tv shows - Youn's Kitchen season 2 heeeeee

45. tattoos - no no no

46. right or left handed - right handed

47. ever had surgery - nope

48. piercings - dont wanna

49. sport - enjoyed hockey hahaha i am a one tough lil lady lol

50. vacation - first stop is Cebu to meet @jikoookmin13 next is Indonesia to meet my sister and then to France or where ever @j-home is haha

51. trainers - (?)

🔹 more general

52. eating - FRIES GOR BREAKFAST WEEE

53. drinking - plain water

54. i’m about to watch - TerryTV hahaha

55. waiting for - the right time to travel

56. want - TO TRAVEL ALONE lol idk how will i survived

57. get married - i dont think if i will get married lol but yeah maybe in few years if i found the one

58. career - currently helping my mom at her shop (the pay is decent love you mom) in the morning and a teacher in the afternoon weewoo

🔹 which is better

59. hugs or kisses - hugs

60. lips or eyes - eyes

61. shorter or taller - I prefer taller for boys

62. older or younger - older

63. nice arms or stomach - NICE ARMS

64. hookup or relationship - relationship

65. troublemaker or hesitant - troublemaker so we could make troubles together lol

🔹 have you ever

66. kissed a stranger - no

67. drank hard liquor - no

68. lost glasses - yeah after i woke up from a nap last three days and its actually in my niece's bag like how was is there when i put it beside me ergh see she is annoying

69. turned someone down - no

70. sex on first date - no

71. broken someone’s heart - hm idk no sure but i think whenever i fought with my bestfriends, our heart broke together is that counted?

72. had your heart broken - yes, a lot of times huehue

73. been arrested - no

74. cried when someone died - yes

75. fallen for a friend - yes

🔹 do you believe in

76. yourself - no but @jikoookmin13 and @j-home always believe in me i guess

77. miracles - sometimes

78. love at first sight - nope

79. santa claus - no hahaha my parents teach me about real life eversince im a baby lol

80. kiss on a first date - no

81. angels - of course I do weeee

🔹 other

82. best friend’s name - I have 8 bestfriends who want their name to be hidden away and I have my bby Reese @jikoookmin13 and then there's @j-home

83. eye colour - dark brown

84. fave movie - idk hahahahaha death bell? train to busan?

85. fave actor - Kim Jisoo and Kim Taehyung and JungChanwoo hahahahhaha my bbies are baaaaaae (Blackpink's Jisoo, BTS'V and iKon's bby maknae Chanu)

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saveclementine · 7 years

Text

Andromeda Thoughts Part 2

My positives of the review! Spoilers below.

The two things that I thought they totally nailed in Andromeda were the characters and the combat. The combat was just fun as hell. I LOVED having the different profiles. I do wish that we could have at least one more power equipped at a time, but man... switching was really fun for me! I’ve seen that a lot of people skip using Favorites but I really enjoy it and recommend it.

But oh my god THE CHARACTERS. Where do I even begin. Ryder was just... everything. I fucking love Ryder. I played default Sara with mostly emotional/humorous responses and I LOVE HER SO MUCH. I love that they went for such a fleshed out protagonist. I’m not really much of one for extensive headcanons in RPG protagonists so I really like when the game gives you lots to build on. I much prefer the Ryder/Hawke types of protagonists for this reason. Now, I think replayability will suffer a bit here... I don’t think there are quite as many variances possible with Ryder as there were Shepard. But from a pure first playthrough point of view, HELL YES to Ryder. Also... I actually really really like her default appearance and think she’s gorgeous. Fuck you, Reddit. I just love how young and goofy and fresh Ryder is... she’s such an absolute joy. One of my absolute favorite scenes was when Kallo had to show her how to use the galaxy map. She was so young and vulnerable in that moment and it just broke my heart! What a brilliant contrast from Shepard. I also loved how they showed her struggling to lead a bit.. the part where everyone walks away from her first meeting before she dismisses them was great. I really wish they had explored that a bit more. I liked the followup when she makes everyone stay until dismissed later on haha.

I also LOVED LOVED LOVED the squad. Oh my god so good. Now I do have to say one criticism here- I do think poor Vetra did not get what she deserved. She really wasn’t fleshed out enough in my game. I wanted to see more of her being a smuggler badass! I liked the story with Sid and I liked her banter, but I kinda kept forgetting that she was there because beyond her intro and the opening in Kadara she just kinda faded into the background. I really wish they had shown her personality more and given her more to do.

I loved the FUCK out of everyone else. The huge surprise for me was Drack- I generally am not too huge on the krogan squadmates (*GASP*). He’s the best one they’ve ever done by a mile. I think the trick was the old age/Kesh storyline- it developed him emotionally in a way that wasn’t just HE’S A KROGAN AND THERE’S A GENOPHAGE AHHHH. At first meeting I didn’t think I would like Peebee but I think they did a really good job with her overall. Her finally opening up to the squad was wonderful. Jaal is such a great bro lmao. And aww Cora is so awesome! Someone on reddit called her a weeablue and I’ll never not think of that now lmao.

But ummmm y’all... LIAM. Oh my god. My favorite by far. Now I seem to have a major type when it comes to BioWare games... I always fall head over heals for the straight due companion everyone else hates. And ho boy did I manage to do it this time. I highly advise never going on reddit but if you do... EVERYONE HATES HIM OHMYGOD. It breaks my heart!!! He is so pure and kind and excited and a lil bit dumb sometimes but it ok. The couch! The playlists with every email! THE LOYALTY MISSION. Ugh he is wonderful. Liam was also my romance of course and I really really enjoyed it. So sweet and romantic! now, do I wish it had a full sex scene like Cora’s? Let’s be honest here... yeah. I also wish we could have gotten a full “I love you!” scene whenever that first happened. But overall I’m really really satisfied, especially with the jump jet scene and THE FUCKING SCENE RIGHT BEFORE THE CREDITS AHHHHH. Now it would have been a weeeee bit better if he hadn’t kissed her with his eyes open buuuut.... I’ll forgive. I need more Liam so fucking bad ahhh.

I thought that overall the squadmates (exception being Vetra) had a great amount of content. I LOVED THE EMAILS. So good. I do wish they’d use the Crew Info Board a lot more? That was so cute and it got updated so infrequently.

Let me just say though- I loved Kallo, Suvi, and Lexi, and I should have loved Gil, but that whole Jill storyline was just... holy fuck. Why. Jill was ABHORRENT. One thing that doesn’t get mentioned too much about her is that when you go to meet her Gil tells you she will probably ask you to reverse your hormone blockers (aka your birth control) and ummmm.... was anyone else as absolutely horrified by this as I was? I think people more eloquent than me have said what needs to be said about the whole reproduction/baby thing there but... god why. I was cringing and facepalming pretty much every time I talked to Gil. Really unfortunate, especially when paired with how much of a disappointment the m/m romances were... something went REALLY wrong here.

I’m going to sum it all up in part 3!

#mass effect andromeda #mea spoilers #mea negativity #but not much

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biotechniczeal · 7 years

Text

-- choriocytosicInquisitor [CI] began pestering biotechnicZeal [BZ] at 15:03 --

CI: C!TR!N, MY LOVE.

CI: H!.

BZ: OH ZHIT IT'Z DAT BOI.

BZ: what'z up??

CI: WHADDUP !S... me wonder!ng when you w!ll be v!s!t!ng Lauct!s? >80

CI: W!ll that be soon?

BZ: YEAH, ACTUALLY. i've been packing my zhit.

BZ: i juzt had to make a few arrangementz firzt...

BZ: lmao it'z weird being productive.

CI: !t's not we!rd. !t's good ?or you! And there?ore, TERR!BLE ?or th!ngs !? you mean ?or them to be ?un.

CI: ! m!ss you. 8(

BZ: i mizz you too. B(

BZ: IT BLOWZ... but at leazt i'm keeping myzelf buzy at leazt.

BZ: alzo... zoon... ZOON.

CI: HOW SOON. ! can come see you R!GHT NOW.

CI: !? you tell me where you are.

CI: !'ll go ?!nd you!

BZ: OH FUCK.

BZ: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

BZ: in that caze i'm at my dadz' houze.

CI: Your dads' house????? BUT HOW CAN ! RAV!SH YOU W!TH SMOOCHES !? !'M AWARE YOUR DADS ARE HOME!!!!

BZ: plz.... they're probably too buzy zmooching each other or zomething.

CI: Strangely enough, that doesn't make me ?eel better about the arrangement.

BZ: LMAO i know it'z grozz.

BZ: but ztill.

CI: Okay.

CI: ! w!ll now proceed to vo!ce my compla!nts !n success!on.

CI: Aaa.

CI: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

BZ: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!

CI: WHY MUST EVERYTH!NG BE D!??!CULT!

CI: ?!ne. !'m go!ng over anyway.

BZ: u fuckin' better.

BZ: >8P

CI: PREPARE YOUR PER?ECT BUTT, MR. STR!DER.

BZ: IT'Z READY.

CI: THAT D!DN'T TAKE LONG AT ALL! !'M SHOCKED.

BZ: that'z my butt'z zecret, ruleuz...

BZ: it'z alwayz ready.

CI: 8)

CI: !'M ON MY WAY.

BZ: B)

BZ: ZEE YA.

CI: *Perhaps close to a whole hour later, Ruleus is STORMING into the Casa de Strider English Captor and bullying J Dad awake from his nap. WASSALLA HULLABALO? It's Ruleus in the main living area.*

BZ: *citrin floats in when he hears a whole lot of hollering, which isn't unusual, but there's the distinct sound of RULEUS HOLLERING so he's here.* RULEZ ZTOP HAZZLING MY DAD GOZH!!

CI: *Here he is, the tall lanky fish caveman spongebob meming at Citrin.* CITRIN!!!

CI: JAKE: *still blinking heavily and sleepily, half waving an actual pistol around* Hoh rascals... you boys. You know better than to-- *mumble mumble, he's getting comfy back into the couch.* Take it to your room fellazzz.... zzzz

BZ: *snorts at ruleus and jake... they're both dorks... but here comes the peach, rocketing himself in ruleus' direction so he can cling to him.* eheheheheh!

BZ: you heard the man, let'z zplit.

CI: *HUP, naturally ends up carrying Citrin up in his arms.* GLUB. RIGHT! As you wish!!!! *scurries out of there, peach in tow.* Sorry Mr. English!

CI: JAKE: *snorts and waves his hand. Get on out you crazy kids.*

BZ: eheheheh... *buzzes all the way to his room, and once they're out of sight down the hall, he's covering ruleus in smooches.*

CI: Pfft prfbthth, that TICKLES. *scolds him, but not before ducking right into his room first. Stops dead in his tracks.* Wait.

CI: This is YOUR room, right?

BZ: LOL. well if u don't hear zim, dru or vic zcreaming then i think we're good. *looks over his shoulder*

BZ: YEAH WE'RE GOOD.

CI: OKAY. *launches Citrin onto his bed.* BYE.

BZ: WEEEEE. *there he goes. he lands and bounces gleefully. BUMBLES BOUNCE.* eheheheh.

BZ: *curls finger at him after posing seductively.*

BZ: /come hither./

CI: *launches for the bed, flailing his limbs. SCREAM. Casually drops on Citrin.*

BZ: DOOF.

BZ: *clings to him and ROLLS.*

CI: >8) *He is FEARSOME AND LARGE and not at all twiggy. There they go, rollin like a tumbleweed.* Ahhhhhhhh, I've missed you sweet peach.

CI: Even a finful of weeks is TOO MUCH.

BZ: ENOUGH IZ TOO MUCH. *giggling against his fins as they roll.*

BZ: pretty zoon we'll be in the zame place though... PERMANENT LIKE.

BZ: i'm gonna hit up nannerz later zo we can zcope out placez to live. oh zhit. *sits up while he's on top of ruleus.* BTW...

BZ: dadz cubed hooked up at the zkaianet branch on lauctiz in the bioengineering department!! >80 juzt an internzhip for now but ye.

CI: An internship??? *his fins perk until he's grinning wide. Yessss, Citrin perched on top of him was the best view. But Ruleus has to roll up to sit and scoop him in another hug.* THAT'S SUCH GREAT GLUBBING NEWS, CITRIN. I KNEW YOU WOULD NEVER HAVE TOO MUCH TROUBLE!!!!

CI: Will you be needing help searching for a place to live? Should I come with you and Ananya?

BZ: eheheh... *flushes a nice shade of peach, leaning into the embrace.* ummm.

BZ: the more the merrier tbh...

BZ: PLUZ it'll be your place too, zo??

BZ: bazically tho idk what the fuck i'm doing.

CI: Neither do I??? *content enough to let Citrin sit on his lap, hugging on him.* But HMMM. Yes. I think I will have to discuss this with Sileas.

CI: I'm not shore what plans he has EXACTLY. But it's a shame we can't all LIVE TOGETHER. It seems ridiculous that we can't. 8/

BZ: lol... yeah... it'z a real zhame...

CI: *tilts head at him* What would your preferences be?

BZ: *shrugs* nothing zuper FANCY... i'm pretty content with a lil apartment or a condo in the city.

CI: WELL YES. But in terms of living arrangements?

BZ: UHH... *sweats* you, me, and ananya?

CI: *looks off thoughtfully* And Sileas isn't included. *It's not a question but an observation.*

BZ: I MEAN...

BZ: i wanna ztay with ananya but... YIKEZ.

BZ: thoze two couldn't pozzibly live together. lbr.

BZ: there would be blood.

BZ: THERE HAZ BEEN BLOOD.

CI: I KNOW. *facepalms* How many more bridges must Sileas burn before he's SATED. I haven't a clue.

BZ: *fidgets a little.* zo like... i dunno. if you guyz talk and he wantz you to ztay with him then uh... that'z cool too. *he knows things... he just doesn't know if these THINGS have come to fruition yet.*

CI: But how fair would that be to you? *furrows his brow with all the fidgets and factors he has to take into account*

CI: Maybe it would be best if I lived on my own.

BZ: ... *nuzzles at him* hey, i'm juzt zaying... whatever you wanna do, i won't be far, right?

BZ: and... no matter where you're at, zileaz iz INEVITABLY gonna have to deal with a lot of me. *smiles a little*

CI: I don't think that's up for debait! *sighs and envelops Citrin in another hug* He can gripe all he likes. I will plant a fresh foot up his posterior.

CI: I just...

CI: Don't sea it all as fair.

CI: If it was only at his expense, I could honestly see myself NOT GIVING A CLAM. *But he knew it didn't work that way. He hugs on Citrin tighter.*

BZ: *buzzes softly, comfortingly... he had to admit to himself, this made him feel pretty darn important.* well... juzt talk to him about it and zee what he'z got to zay.

BZ: if you think having your own place iz the mozt fair then i'm cool with that... really.

CI: *Buries his face by the crook of his neck, absorbing the buzzes.* I would miss you.

BZ: ... gay. *kisses at the side of his head, squeezing him tighter.*

BZ: we'll get it worked out, ruru.

CI: I know... Unfortunately, you're contagious. *grins and gently nibbles the chub. Yum.*

BZ: hrrrkk. *wheezes until the giggles UNLEASH.* fuckin' RUDE.

CI: Isn't it??????????? I should have taken extra precautions before handling you. *peck peck, he steals some smooches*

BZ: FOOLIZH. eheheheh. *gets his revenge by holding ruleus' face in his hands and pressing a big kiss right on his fishy lips.* <3

CI: *BLUH, only not really. Citrin is really actually the best. He meets Citrin's big smooch with a bigger smooch from himself. Mwwwaaah.* I did this to myself. *muffled*

BZ: yep... now u gotta zuffer the conzequencez... *leans into him with all his fat weight so they're lying down again.*

CI: *is thoroughly squished under Citrin's GIRTH.* Should I die, tell them all I died as I lived. *purring from somewhere*

BZ: yez... zmothered betwixt peach cheekz.... *snnrrkks before dragging his kisses down towards his fin and then to his neck.*

CI: *ends up giggling, squirming from under Citrin* That TICKLES-- oh. Sorry.

CI: (Your dad.)

BZ: yez zhhhhh. *nibbles on him.* don't wake daddy. *SNRK.*

CI: That's difficult to do when you are being so... (Ticklish.) *paps him on the butt.*

BZ: yeah?? it ticklez in ur tummy?? >;) *he's papped... but it only makes him STRONGER. nibbles at his collar bone now. a frisky peach.*

CI: *SNORTS and ends up huffing about the rascally teeth prickling his collar. His hand comes up to stroke into the fluff of Citrin's hair instead.* In a particular kind of way, yes. Hmmm. *hums as if thinking.*

CI: We shouldn't get too distracted.

BZ: *buzzes softly...* why not? we can get diztracted for a LITTLE while...

CI: *laughs, scritching at his hair* I could compose, at very least, a small dramatic essay for you to ignore about all the reasons why we /shouldn't/ get "distracted" in your dads' house. But I also think I should tell you about...

CI: Sileas. And him wanting to matrimonialize our quadrant.

BZ: *peeks up at him but... doesn't really look surprised. he just rests his chin on ruleus' chest.* zo he went through with it, huh??

BZ: eheheh... he told me he waz going to. er, or that he WANTED to. but he waz being a dork about it...

BZ: like dur citrin do you think i zhould?? and i'm like bruh.

CI: *Exhales in relief, glad that at least Citrin knew about it. He purrs low in the backburner of his throat.* So he had the maturity and foresight enough for THAT at least. He's really bad with this kind of thing... when it comes down to it.

CI: It's another huge shame because I would not like his dumb baby butt feelings to get in the way of my relationship with you. Or any of our other corresponding relationships. *wrinkles his nose* He and Ananya greatly need an auspistice.

BZ: TELL me about it... but who iz ztrong enough for the tazk... eheheh. *nuzzles to his chest.*

BZ: ... i did really appreciate him talking to me. um... i'm not alwayz...

BZ: really zure where i ztand? er... idk. quadrant ztuff iz confuzing, you know? but when he came at me talking about that and rezpecting my input about you guyz and you going to lauctiz it really... helped clear up zome of my doubtz, i guezz.

BZ: he'z DUMB but at leazt he carez enough about you to look out for me too. and include me in all thiz.

CI: *Lip juts out, distressed by the idea of Citrin still having doubts about things... but ultimately, he puts it to rest.* I've always wanted you included.

BZ: i know... i'm juzt-- DUMB TOO... *looks guilty*

BZ: and i get confuzed.

CI: Citrin... You're not dumb for needing reasshorance. 8(

CI: You are an important part of the reason I would like to move to Lauctis. So the two of us can have a chance at augmenting all the GOOD we can do. Between ourselves...

CI: You inspire me a lot of the time.

BZ: ... *smiles at him bashfully.* yeah? eheh...

BZ: you too...

BZ: i wouldn't have even thought about moving... and i definitely wouldn't have motivated myzelf to get work if i wazn't... thinking about the kind of future i'd get to have with you if i did...

CI: *Citrin's honest bashful smiles should be bottled and kept away for rainy days. Ruleus is so smitten. He clears some hair out of his face.* There's plenty of time to figure it out.

CI: But I do want to figure it out. *takes up his hands and squeezes, nuzzling at his forehead.* No matter how long it takes.

BZ: *holds ruleus' hands tight, so relieved he feels like he might cry, his throat restricting and making his giggles rattle out hoarsely.* eheheh... me too...

BZ: i love you, ruleuz.

CI: *The words warm deep down in his bloodpusher and he's sure he's going to carry them for all of time. Ruleus's purrs roll anew.* I love you too, you silly peach. *murmurs, pecking a cool kiss right to his nose.*

BZ: no ur zilly... *catches him up in more kisses, humming against his lips.*

BZ: ... you zure we can't get diztracted juzt a little...

CI: It's tempting... but-- *he lingers, drawn into his warmth. His inviting softness. Flicks a fin remembering his trail of thought.*

CI: ...

CI: I can hear your dad snoring all the way over here. 8/

BZ: ... yeah that iz kind of a turn off...

BZ: BUT LATER.

BZ: you're gettin' it.

CI: Oh... *goes wall-eyed a little bit.* You know I never do get used to how plainly you put things.

BZ: GOOD. it makez it more fun for me when you're fluztered every time.>;)

CI: Whale how do you EXPECT me to act?? *HUFFS* You...

CI: Fluster me. 8(

BZ: FAIR. there really iz no other way to rezpond... i mean... LOOK AT ME!!

#choriocytosicInquisitor #in which I want to figure it out

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