Now, let us crush something soft and watch it fountain blood. That is a girlish thing to want to do, yes?

Girls come in many variations, in case you didn't already knew that.

There’s a certain conversation that I’ve come to recall.

- You are like her in some ways. You have the same poise, the same air of nobility.

- Oh, I am hardly noble.

- I learned that nobility isn't just something you are born with. I have met nobles who were petty and mean—complete degenerates. Then there are people with a certain dignity and grace. It draws you to them, no matter who you are, or who they are. I think that the lowest peasant can have the most noble spirit and it will always shine through. It is this nobility of spirit that you share with her.

- Why... thank you. It is very kind of you to say that.

I’ve been trying to tell it for years, but this article explains it better than I’ve done in the past.

When the radio you walk by plays Everybody Hurts.

And all you can think about is putting it on repeat.

So you do.

The attack begins at nightfall.

Do you?

Exclusive.

Solitary.

Tea.

Big decision.

So you wait it out.

Burn the witch, they said.

Which?

I don’t.

Compatible.

Only the piano breaks tears.

Silent running.

Destructive.

Winter wedding?

When the day is not your own.

Knife cutting cheese.

Hold on.

And smile.

You never know what battles are fought by those passing you by.

Being.

And so it comes to this.

Silence of the past.

Haunted doors and wardrobes.

Hurting rain.

Had enough?

Enough now.

RIP Romero.

Going to be a week filled with dread and zombies now, and not the kind of undead you want to invite into your home.

77.

That reminds me - I need to update my survival kit. And find a new safe house.

77.

Personality.

INFP: Acting like your dark, brooding thoughts make you superior to other people because you’re deeper and more complex than they are.

Can’t really say I disagree with that, least not on a bad day. Prefer the other one, to be frank.

Mediator – Poetic, kind and altruistic people, always eager to help a good cause.

I’ll add the link again, if you don’t know what I’m going on about.

And the link to the first statement, too.

Best leave it at that.

Woman in purple.

Colors are important. As a pale person, I prefer purple, black, green, stripes, earthly colors, and what I can feel good/sexy/fabulous in – not to mention what suits my mood.

With a somewhat pale complexion and hair of light brown – or dark dirty blond, if that means anything to you – with a touch of red in it (only visible under certain circumstances and lightning), I must of course take this into the account: as I expect most other people would do when selecting their clothing.

Have you considered scaling the watchtower?

No bite marks on the neck, no robe of swirling at the back, no sharp teeth of white in the moonlight. Tonight, poetic blood sings alone.

PIGTAILS FOR PRIDE

Second exalted march done and over.

Sunburn report: face only (feels like it, not showing).
Muscle soreness: behind the knees and a little down the legs from there (mild), not arms (surprising), shoulders worst (unexpected).
Random pleasant encounters: four (a nice reporter for breakfast company, a lovely inspirational being in a fantastic outfit before the parade, a potential new friend sharing water and food with after as well as an dear old friend walking by without noticing that I had go after just to hug).

Saturday morning: shower, preparation.
Saturday breakfast: last year's location.
Saturday's event: Pride Parade.
Saturday sleep: in order not to collapse.
Saturday evening: Skyfall.

Reminded me of English Operative. Missed him and the gang.

Sunday brings the dawn.

We still got a roa long road to walk go.

Plan for the next Pride: political, bring something for the breakfast, seriousness.

Small wins.

Might as well give an account of what happened.

I dressed in all black and with practical shoes, alas - no photos, sorry. Originally planning to do something similar as last year, I didn't -the second random encounter of the day took care of that. Instead, I marched with a small piece of paper of light purple, white and green with the following text:

       We're here 

     We're queer 

  Get used to it 

Had a lot of smiles and positive reactions from bystanders as I passed them by, so I hopped and skipped and jumped - when I wasn't being serious. Had to take a few breaks from carrying the thing up high above my head, too, so from time to time it was on chest level. Did carry it the entire march, though.

Pinned the thing up on a wall back home as a memento. In honor. Full colors. No, not just because of the Sense8 reference - the lovely creature of inspiration noticed, though - and that is why I was handed it specifically out of the five options. I sincerely hope our paths cross again sometime in the future.

It was a good march. A lonely experience as I spent most conscious thoughts (when not actively using my brain cells on some other task) of someone I wish was there with me.

The world of men will fall and burn. Not necessarily in that order.
The age of humanity is ending.
The time of us humans remains.
Are we our very own nemesis?

One day, my love. One day.

Sharing this since a member of the community made me aware of the clip in question. Personally, I’m at 5/7 – one rather obvious, the other not so much. Care to guess?

Also, MaevarisTilani is a new favorite. Go figure, right? Powerful magic user,

Now, if you’re reading this and wondering why I’m silent on other forums, arenas and various forms of communication – the answer is simple: My own computer remains net less. Therefore, further sharing of thoughts, feelings, hopes and dreams in the shape of words and voice is not only improbable, but also impossible, for the time being. But hey, at least she’s got the look.

And we go na na na na na na na na.

Permission to come aboard, Captain?

The shuttle was approaching the USS Pier. Having been spending quite some time getting upgraded – not all system were operational, despite her status as cleared – the list of minor tweaks must have been long as a year’s worth of bad reports.

The Commander couldn’t help but smile. A familiar sight, alt last. Home again.

Browsing through the crew list, she noticed certain changes. Junior-Lieutenant Knuma had applied for reassignment, while the ships’ chief medical officer, doctor Flebb, had left for other reasons. Chief of security, Mar’k’kek, was gone as well, and the cute Andorian, Fri’gda, had moved on shortly after her own departure. Then there was the owner of Amor. That caused more than a sting.

Upon stepping on the bridge for the very first time made a certain silence sweep across the room. The Commander looked around, keeping herself balanced and appearing at ease, despite the withdrawn and neutral face. Then the Captain rose.

-          Permission to come aboard, ma’am?

-          Permission granted. Welcome back, Nomi.

The Commander finally dared a smile and the Captain beamed right back at her. Crossing the distance, she opened her arms in a warm welcome. The embrace was longer than usual. Probably not up to Starfleet protocol, but – three years and a whole lot of long distance missions made up for it. Not like any of the officers would file a complaint. Instead, more than one acknowledged the Commander with pleasant smiles, nodding gently at her before carrying on with their tasks.

It took a few days to settle in and get to know some of the new additions a bit better, as well as reconnect with old friends. The Commander knew it was not really what you would call those you served alongside with. However, on the USS Pier rank and regulation played less a part than trust and genuine co-operation.

Though not all the changes where of the bad kind: Lieutenant Cami seemed to be up for promotion soon, and Lieutenant-Commander Tabakk remained just as active as before, even with his additional duties off-ship. Lieutenant-Commander Cezzelizze was due some shore leave – well earned, as usual – and her smile rivaled only that of Captain Jek. Commandant Ratve was absent due to her family, but Admiral Teima poked her head up an early morning and wished the Commander a happy return before heading back to what must have been an endlessness list of inspections.

Lieutenant-Commander Anc’sche, another former officer, had requested her old post back, and like the Commander been accepted. It only took a chance meeting during a course for the two of them set the tone, followed by a shared shift, and the Commander knew that the Lieutenant-Commander was going to be a friend on the same level as the rest of the bridge crew.

A similar story went for Lieutenant Vibast – also an old hand. While they had only met once while the Commander was on duty and the Lieutenant on furlough, they had never actually served together – circumstances had made them bypass each other. The Lieutenant was therefore an unknown to the Commander in an otherwise flawless familiar bridge crew.

Despite all the upgrades, the ship itself remained the same. So too, had the crew. The sensors and the engines, the weaponry and the interior – all new, shiny and up to proper Starfleet standard. Only the outside hull, the name and designation number remained of the USS Pier. However, the crew had asked to avoid reassignment, and had even aided in the work on getting her up to shape. The Commander had mixed feelings regarding that – she should have been a part of it, not only coming back as the ship was ready to head out to active duty once more. Still, she was back, and just in time for the next big adventure.

Commander Nomi had barely time to recall some of the science team, Rohordra and Hayhay, before they too offered their own unique “welcome home” bit, making her secretly vowing to do that department justice in her logs.

Re:rewriting.

-       There must be some kind of way outta here,

said the joker to the thief.

-       There are many here among us, who feel that life is but a joke. There's too much confusion.

-       Hey, no reason to get excited,

the thief kindly spoke.

-       None were level on the mind, nobody up at his word. Business men, they drink the wine while plowman dig the earth.

-       I can't get any relief.

-       Women come and go; barefoot servants, too.

-       Well, we've been through that, and this is not our fate.

Outside in the cold distance, two riders were approaching while the wind began to howl.

It was getting late.

Nomi and the night.

Throwing up is always an experience. Throwing up on an empty stomach leaves much more acid, or a higher concentration of acid, in your mouth.

I flushed the toilet and brushed my teeth. Now I’m sipping water with wet lips. Would have liked to nibble on a dry cracker, though my gut tells me it's too soon to try.

You can add the full moon and lack of nourishment from yesterday, too.

Been some sailing last days with the guns pointed at the deck, going up and down.

In a few more hours, I’ll be walking with a dog and a once again coworker who bought me Smiles/smiles and brought hugs to our reunion.

Do you recall the Simon and Garfunkel son that ends with “the morning is just a few hours away”? Technically, it became morning at 04:00 (AM, not PM – duh).

My connection, or lack of it, only allows for a single page refresh before it stops all together. Takes ages logging on to anything. Nevertheless, that’s what I have to do in order to post and share this.

By now I’ve given up trying to disconnect and reconnect as the process takes even longer and there is no guarantee that I’ll be able to get back on during the first try.

As an MMO player, it’s not optimal.

About an hour, took it.

I’ve learned to keep Skype on the bottom tab of the screen, and move forward when it’s not showing the update sign. Unfortunately, there is no logic or time-frame, and I can easily skip some of it because it’s not 100% accurate and the signal for web access doesn’t cooperate with it at all.

And then, all of a sudden, the net decides to play ball and work with me, allowing me access, but not so much to actually post my writings.

By saving everything I wrote down, I assured myself that it would not get lost in the "progress, working, sorry - not working".

Just plain luck I was able to get this out at all.

Homeward bound. Or, well, home is where your heart is, so your real home's in your chest.

Sense8

Cancelled. Time to do the same with my Netflix account.

The Paris agreement remains strong, though.

Goodbye, hillbilly land. Hello and welcome, Friar’s Fireplace.

That’s right. I’ve departed the backwater and forsaken hypocrisy of the religious south, only to return to the soft urbanization of the small city life of happiness and feeling of home.

Why? Why do this quote come to mind?

“This is to remind people that free societies are stronger societies. Open, multicultural societies are the places that the world’s best and brightest had wanted to go to, while mono-cultural, repressive societies are the places they’ve wanted to escape from.”

Because it is true.

By coming back to the Tolkien and viking rich environment, I'm coming home. I am home.

And in case you didn't get the title, the Friar's Fireplace is the name I have given my new living quarters. While I probably won't refer to the place before other than hillbilly land, the one before that was Meresti.If you can't figure out why, then you can dig around, or remain in the dark - I'm sitting by the warmth and watching the flickering source of burning and shadow casting.