Finally got ahold of Ciaran .3. Now I'm just writing for the hell of it xD
--
*applause*
Me: Good evening, and thank آپ for joining us again here at TLF. Today, our guest is Eiko Usagi.
*applause*
Eiko: *walks on stage and sits in a chair across fro me*
Me: Hello, Eiko ^_^
Eiko: *bland, soft monotone* ...Hello.
Me: You're in one of my حالیہ fanfictions. What's going on right now?
Eiko: ...
Me: o_o
Eiko: ...
Me: o_o;;;
Eiko: ...Kyle scares me.
Me: I-I'd like to point out that his name is "Ami", not Kyle ^^;;
Eiko: What?
Me: Ami.
Eiko: ...Kyle?
Me: Ami ._.
Eiko: ...
Me: *looks down at note-cards* A-anyway... Ami scares you? How so?
Eiko: He always puts his arm around me. I see him everywhere. He's always smiling. His hair is a bloody color. His eyes are lifeless. I don't like the way he licks his lips when I loosen my bandages.
Me: o∆o He does all that?
Eiko: All the time.
Me: O-oh my.. >_>;; I'm sorry I.. made him that way..
Eiko: It's alright.
*crickets xD*
Eiko: But the good news is, he makes me sweets.
Me: :D Wonderful! How are they?
Eiko: Very good. But he always says something odd when he gives them to me. Like "I made this with love" یا "Enjoy, my lady." He's really weird.
Me: u//w//u How cute!
Eiko: Excuse me? .∆.
Me: Oh, nothing >_> Have آپ seen Kotomi lately?
Eiko: *lightly brushes bandages with fingers* ...No.
Me: Why not? o_o
Eiko: I'm... too nervous to call her.
Me: آپ shouldn't be ^^;;
Eiko: What if... she found someone else. And doesn't like me.
Me: Doesn't like you? o_o I think she likes--
Eiko: I'm not pretty enough.
Me: What? owo;;
Eiko: There are so many other pretty girls. I'm short, and I have no figure. I'm scrawny and pale. Kotomi is lovely. She's graceful and sweet, like a گلبہار, گل داؤدی soaking up rays in an untouched field of grass. I'm only the sickly gray بادل that blocks her view and makes her world a soggy place. I don't deserve her.
Me: ;n; <3
*audience "aawwws" xD*
Eiko: What? ._.
Me: *takes a tissue out and blows nose* That... thats all for today, folks. S-see آپ اگلے time. Our اگلے guest is Ami Bezaleel. G-goodnight.
--
*applause*
Me: Good evening, and thank آپ for joining us again here at TLF. Today, our guest is Eiko Usagi.
*applause*
Eiko: *walks on stage and sits in a chair across fro me*
Me: Hello, Eiko ^_^
Eiko: *bland, soft monotone* ...Hello.
Me: You're in one of my حالیہ fanfictions. What's going on right now?
Eiko: ...
Me: o_o
Eiko: ...
Me: o_o;;;
Eiko: ...Kyle scares me.
Me: I-I'd like to point out that his name is "Ami", not Kyle ^^;;
Eiko: What?
Me: Ami.
Eiko: ...Kyle?
Me: Ami ._.
Eiko: ...
Me: *looks down at note-cards* A-anyway... Ami scares you? How so?
Eiko: He always puts his arm around me. I see him everywhere. He's always smiling. His hair is a bloody color. His eyes are lifeless. I don't like the way he licks his lips when I loosen my bandages.
Me: o∆o He does all that?
Eiko: All the time.
Me: O-oh my.. >_>;; I'm sorry I.. made him that way..
Eiko: It's alright.
*crickets xD*
Eiko: But the good news is, he makes me sweets.
Me: :D Wonderful! How are they?
Eiko: Very good. But he always says something odd when he gives them to me. Like "I made this with love" یا "Enjoy, my lady." He's really weird.
Me: u//w//u How cute!
Eiko: Excuse me? .∆.
Me: Oh, nothing >_> Have آپ seen Kotomi lately?
Eiko: *lightly brushes bandages with fingers* ...No.
Me: Why not? o_o
Eiko: I'm... too nervous to call her.
Me: آپ shouldn't be ^^;;
Eiko: What if... she found someone else. And doesn't like me.
Me: Doesn't like you? o_o I think she likes--
Eiko: I'm not pretty enough.
Me: What? owo;;
Eiko: There are so many other pretty girls. I'm short, and I have no figure. I'm scrawny and pale. Kotomi is lovely. She's graceful and sweet, like a گلبہار, گل داؤدی soaking up rays in an untouched field of grass. I'm only the sickly gray بادل that blocks her view and makes her world a soggy place. I don't deserve her.
Me: ;n; <3
*audience "aawwws" xD*
Eiko: What? ._.
Me: *takes a tissue out and blows nose* That... thats all for today, folks. S-see آپ اگلے time. Our اگلے guest is Ami Bezaleel. G-goodnight.
