Posts by ASIMOV

" — The work was fine- it soothed his soul, somewhat, to hear the rip of weeds out of the ground, the familiar snap of the roots. Battery answered his question idly, and Asimov puffed out his cheeks, keeping his focus on the plant. "... Nothing. I don't know, Dee suggested we see Maruki for couples therapy, and I'm stressed," He said. "I love him, 'course, but I'm just worried about it. I've never done... couples therapy. Then again, the rest of my relationships crashed and burned, so you know," He tossed a weed to the side.

"Husbandry, huh?" Asimov grinned, rubbing dirt onto his face by accident with his paw. "... Yeah, it's relaxing. I don't like how messy my fur gets, but it keeps my blood pressure down," He commented, looking at Bat. "What have you been up to recently? I've been out selling a lot of weed, actually, and people tell me afterwards it's high quality stuff, so, go you," He laughed.

" — Asimov, unfortunately, was no weed farmer. His little hobby came in the form of a singular rose bush, tucked away in the corner where it didn't bother anyone. It was simply his way to destress, and his secret source of roses for his love.

He noticed Jasper planting, and he padded over, curious. "Whatcha planting?" He couldn't tell it was weed, to be honest, and he just blinked idly.

" — "Uh, Lily and Jakob belong to me, and what they do is more than menial tidying-up," Asimov clarified to Jasper quickly, padding over, exhausted, for some reason. His gaze met Dee for a moment, hearing him yell about a chore chart, and really, he wanted to laugh, but... tiredness washed over him. Despite Maruki's therapy really working, he found it hadn't exactly fixed what was wrong at the root- his brain.

He came to sit at the counter, resting his head on the countertop, looking at Dee. ".... I can clean whatever," Asimov said, volunteering himself, but then was just so exhausted, he fell asleep there.

" — Asimov came to sit by King, obviously tired. Both his depression and being pregnant were kicking his ass- what, he only had, twenty days until he was due? It was stressful, to say the least, and every day, he gained some noticeable mass in his belly- the kit-cub hybrids were growing fast, and Asimov couldn't really keep up.

In all his exhaustion, he just rested his head on the side of the couch, laying on his side. "... How have your numbers been?" Asimov asked, a bit out of it all.

" — Asimov blinked at Jason's request- an old client, right? He remembered that night with him and Dee, and a satisfied smirk made its way across his face. He was the Cartel's top seller, perhaps more so due to his status than his personality, but he simply batted his eyelashes, knowing which cards to play. He knew what Jason liked. "Ah- there you are," He commented salaciously to Jason. "Dee and I have been waiting for you in the Cartel, you know. Come back soon, and I'll give you a sweet little discount," He stated, with narrowed eyes intended to seduce.

However, he seemed to completely reset, as if a switch had been turned off as the other four approached. Sorry you had to see that- it's just business, he thought. "It's good to meet you guys. Ah- yeah, I've brought some cherry wine with me today. It's a bestseller," He said to Angel, a small smile gracing his features. Maybe he could do this! Look at him- what a sexy salesman, everyone wanted him, he could tell by the way their eyes focused on him.

However, he saw Aphrodite, and any sort of building bravado was broken. "Hey," He said, much more genuinely than how he had spoken to Jason, inching closer to her. "Just some cherry wine. You can have a bottle for free- one on the house," He spoke kindly, but then moved to embrace her, putting his head on her shoulder. Quietly, mumbling only to her, he finally revealed the true reason he was here. "I just wanted to see you again. It's been tough over in the Cartel... I'm pregnant," He admitted, even though it was pretty obvious- he was looking rounder than ever these days.

He pulled away from her. "... Cartel's doing great! I'm fine. How's the Coven?" He snapped right back into classic Asimov.

" — As Battery said "I can see you care for him," Asimov's gaze narrowed in thought. He could recall that cold stare at Dee's little announcement, burning, those yellow eyes drilling holes into his skin. Disapproval, he felt at the time. Distrust. Therefore, when Battery said those words, his gaze flickered back to him. "I do care about him a lot. I feel rotten that the kids aren't his, to be honest. I wonder if this whole ceasefire thing will even work. I mean, I sure fucking hope it does, because I'm carrying the giant-ass kids of a man I don't love for it, so..." He dug into the ground again- he had his doubts, too.

Though, Battery said his son was handsome, and quickly clarified that it was Cairo. At first, Asimov had the kneejerk reaction to say are you fucking my son? You better be taking some fucking god-tier baths for him, but being a man of rationale that he was, he only turned. "Really? I suppose he's inherited a bit of my charm," Asimov joked. "... So.. are you going to ask him out or something? I can't offer much advice- that kid's an enigma," He commented. "Sometimes I forget how young you are, and that my son isn't a kid anymore," He looked towards the ground now, tossing the spade into the air and catching it with his telekinesis over and over. "I mean, it's a good thing. You and Cairo..." He turned back to look at him. "Get him to smoke pot like, once, okay? He's such a god damn prude, he won't even drink with me." He smiled.

" — Asimov had been sharing a bed with Dee that night, curled up right next to him, fast asleep, sleeping soundly, until all of a sudden, he jolted awake. His mind swam with thoughts of one thing - food. He glanced at Dee for a moment, studying his sleeping face. He realized very quickly that he didn't want to wake up Dee to go make him a sandwich - how misogynistic, first of all- and second of all, the food he had in mind was downright embarrassing to admit, even to his boyfriend.

He slipped out of bed as discreetly as possible, and then once he was out of the bedroom, he rushed to the kitchen, nearly tripping over his own paws down the stairs. Time was against him- he had to make the food, shove it into his mouth, and then run back to bed before nobody saw what he was doing, or what he so desperately wanted to eat. He got slices of bread out, slathered it with peanut butter... okay, normal, this was fine... and then put sliced pickles on it, and then scarfed it down quickly- however, he realized he wasn't satisfied enough, so he cut out the middleman of bread altogether, and slathered the pickle slices in peanut butter, trying to fit as many as he could into his mouth. It was what he had been needing from the second he woke up- the peanut butter and pickles. It was a perfect combination, although he figured as soon as he was no longer pregnant, he'd be revolted at this combination.

Slathering more pickle slices with peanut butter, he heard footsteps, and tensed up. "It's- it's not what it looks like!"

" — Asimov was slowly recovering from the shock of his and Dee's argument. Between the therapy session and just general feel-good sessions with his friends in other clans (it turned out a really good hug was beneficial) he found it a little easier to take steps forward. Sometimes they were baby steps. However, he was making large strides by going out for once, to check on the tobacco plants to make sure they were on schedule, then to go down to the forge to count the amount of metal they had to work with... but as soon as he emerged from the greenhouse, out in the distance, waiting for him, was his son.

A slow pace soon erupted into a sprint, and he was running towards his son. His beloved son- he didn't even care that Makariy had stolen Maximilian now, just that his son was back, and clearly here to stay, judging by his supplies. He noticed the exhaustion on his son's face, though, and his eyes widened in worry. "Oh, Makariy- oh my god, you're huge, first of all," He said, judging by how tall he was. He remembered catching Makariy as a kit, so tiny, and now here he was... very, very tall, almost as tall as he was.

"Are you okay? It's good to see you," He said, still overjoyed. His son was here- and not for fucking Clove this time!

" — Asimov looked at Ver, a bit tired. He figured he'd see her here- she had an awful way of worming her way into conversations, give her bad take, and then leave. What she wasn't wasn't surprising, of course- he had interacted with her sometimes, and every time, she was an abrasive, unlikeable, immature person.

He simply gazed over to her. "We don't have time to unpack all of that," He muttered, not really wanting to deal with her- it wasn't like anything productive would come out of it. Ver was one of those people who believed that if they talked louder, they were winning the argument. "Well, first of all- accusations were true," He said, unamused. Did she even talk to anyone about it? Does she even care? Or does she just hate me? Then, he offered her a simple smile. "I like going out and selling." Her next comment made no sense- Juba had literally asked what else he had, so he mentioned the drugs out loud. She probably wasn't a very good listener, seeing that she just liked to hear herself talk.

Speaking of children, he recalled the Tormenta-Millions living in his group now; Ver's grandchildren, he recalled, from Champagne. Perhaps just itching to get under her skin, Asimov wrapped his words in a sugary-sweet veil. "Your granddaughter Champagne loves it in the Cartel. She's quite the talented Host," He smiled, but the intent was clear what he was saying. "Makes me a lot of money," He added quickly.

" — Asimov could only grin at her petty insults. It was clear she hated him selling here- yet, Juba and S didn't seem too bothered. Clearly, they wanted whatever he had to sell- they had inquired, after all. He understood causing a scene was bad for business, though, and so he simply gave Ver a smirk, watching her struggle to combat what he had said. All she had for him were insults about his dick-brain confusion, and he could admit to that. He'd shrug his shoulders, sort of conceding. Yeah, if I was like, castrated, I would probably make a lot of better choices, he thought, earnestly, but oh well. He hadn't earned the reputation he had by being a prude, did he? He did like the way she said he was dancing with death- in the Wind Haven? Once ran by a unicorn with the word Party in his name? He doubted it. "That's okay- I like to dance." He commented idly.

"I don't really do much host work, now that I'm seeing someone." She couldn't be more wrong about the fact that Champagne was out-performing him- he didn't even know if Champagne was doing that sort of work and just wanted to wind her up like a toy and see her spin in circles. He did know, though, that he was hot shit. The stares and gazes were something he was just used to- he wasn't sure if it was his looks, his louder-than-life personality, or his position, but he had everything he wanted. Ver's words didn't cut very deep, the visit being exactly the ego-boost he needed. "Your territory? Are you a leader here, now?" He asked, realizing he was sort of pushing the point of no return, but he realized something about Ver in this moment- she was just like him, and to be honest, that terrified him a little. They were both ambitious, liked to claim power, both thought in terms of black and white... oh god, I'm just like Ver Million, he thought idly, but was sort of interested in the thought. The loudest people always ended up on top- or at least formerly on the top, when it came to Ver. "Well, I'm not here to pick fights- I'm here to sell my wares." Maybe a little bit of both, though, if I'm being honest. She's almost cute when she's mad, "So I'll go. But who else do you buy things from? The trade center guys? Where are you getting your alcohol?" He asked. "Cause' I'm willing to offer a discount for any person who comes to us to sell. Fuckin'... forty percent off, just for Wind Haven, how about that?" Really, this was why he was here in the first place- get some advertising for foot traffic to the group, because he knew his merchants hated walking all the way to these lands. He looked at the others. "And if you're not Ver, I can ninety-nine-percent guarantee it won't take long. No complaining to be had from us," He said with a smirk.

" — The Godfather was in a better mood as of recent- his little get-togethers with Cecilia and Aphrodite had reassured him that perhaps not all hope was lost, that he had friends even beyond his own family here in the Cartel, that he'd have people to turn to no matter what. With him was two bottles of- well, you guessed it, champagne, having read the banner and dashing back to his room to find gifts. (Sort of- he wasn't sure if he could really call it champagne if it didn't come from Champagne, France, but France didn't really exist anymore, did it?)

He rather liked Champagne- despite her resemblance to her aunt, a woman he loathed enough to want to murder her violently for what she had done to his group, she was fun and talkative and had a lot of energy, something the Cartel needed. "Damn, you and Whiskey are adults now, right?" He asked, sauntering in for the second time. "I'd offer to do shots with you, but, y'know, they say booze is bad for fetuses, apparently," He joked about his pregnancy, setting the two bottles down, one for each sister, on the gift table. It was expensive shit- probably worth as much as gold jewelry. "I'm surprised my boyfriend isn't here yet, he loves parties," He added, gazing around for Dee. He looked back at Champagne. "Got any plans for the future?"

" — Asimov had honestly gone his whole life without listening to recorded music. He had experienced live music in the past, of course, from virtuosos of all sort, but nothing like this. The old cracks and hisses... it was almost nostalgic, in a way. A hug in the form of music.

The red kitsune made his way over, and he snickered at Jasper turning Dee down for a dance- how could one do that? In his mind, Dee was a safe siren, beautiful, irresistible- if Dee had asked him to dance, Asimov would learn how to do it right away.

Of course, there was the big factor- there was a masquerade ball coming up, and Asimov... didn't... know... how to dance. Unlike Kaia, he wasn't trained to be some bigshot royal, having climbed this ladder all on his own merit, so when it came to.. dance, he wasn't sure. He put on a grin, moving over to Dee, trying to channel the rhythm in his body, trying to keep up with his boyfriend, but he found himself softly muttering into his ear "... I don't actually know how to dance."

" — As Asimov saw Inferno, his ears pinned back in embarrassment. "... Peanut butter pickle sandwich... yeah, then I just sort of cut out the middleman and..." He seemed to be at a loss of words- oh, how the mighty fell, it seemed, when confronted with their odd cravings. "H-Hey, I just woke up and wanted some, so I went to go eat it! I don't usually eat food like this," He added, obviously defensive.

And now it was an Asimov-zoo-exhibit, with everyone coming to gawk at what he was eating. NO! IF BATTERY WANTS TO EAT SOMETHING, IT'S HORRIBLE! "Yeah, 'course. It's good, I was craving something salty and briny and crunchy and sweet so..." He shrugged. He looked at Caesarion. "Normally! That's what I'd normally eat, if I wasn't fucking pregnant," He said, moving to eat another one, even as his face burned.

He looked at Damion- he was surprised it wasn't obvious. Asimov was pretty damn visibly pregnant- he wasn't at his full size, he figured, seeing the due date was a bit aways, but... he was pregnant. "Yeah, I just had really bad cravings for it. Usually I like, um, more refined food."

And then to King. I know you're a good Capo but I am going to fucking beat your ass, he thought. "Yeah? Really?" He asked, trying to avoid attacking anyone over this.

Determined, finally, he set out the jar of sliced pickles, peanut butter, and then the sliced bread out. "You know what? Try it. It's good! Try it!" He said, forcefully.

" — maybe casual friends with asi? maybe he gives her some discount on alcohol or something and their friendship stems from that? he's also sort of Going Through It but not as severe as carni is, so maybe he sells to her and then he's just there to lend an ear?

" — i think her and asi could develop a real friendship, tbh :0 maybe he could ask her if she's interested in spying for him? asi is a former spy so i think he'd really like to make friends with someone who wants to do that sort of work, lol- he'll trade her lots of shiny things if she decides to spy of course haha

" — Asimov had realized that it was time to release Lily. He could see the cat hybrid growing disillusioned with his work, the happy spark to be serving him gone, replaced with a sort of exhaustion, and that was fine. It was never supposed to be a permanent thing, really, and now, as lieutenant of the militia division, he had no reason not to trust Lily. Lily had befriended the group, charmed them with his "meowdys" and "special attack moves" and besides, he had Dee to take care of him.

Lily would receive a call from Asimov from another member, instructing him to meet Asimov in his bedroom. Once there, Asimov was lounging on the plush red couch, sipping apple cider, waiting for Lily.

Lily~

" — Asimov grinned- his choice in King only solidified more by the way he spoke. Authoritative, knew exactly what his job was... Asimov liked it. "Nah- you covered it really well," the Godfather spoke, turning to the dark-hued serval with a grin.

" — yeah! asi will be in the ruins to yell at jace sell stuff so we could do a private thread if u want? :0

" — Asimov came to sit on the border, deciding to do a little selling here. He was unaware of the immense pushback about his pregnancy in the Ruins, under the assumption that everything was hunky-dory as it was in the Cartel. From what he knew, at least, Jace had told him everything would be alright, that neither of them were traitors, that there was a cease-fire, that the politics aligned... still, he found a sense of anxiety over him.

Luckily, a few members purchased from him, trading his fruit and port wines for jewelry, to be later smelted into material for the Cartel's more high-end items, their weapons. Selling made him feel better- it gave him some confidence. A little tired, Asimov saw a white dog pad over to him, and curiously, he shifted, knowing how obviously pregnant he was at this point. "Hey- what can I get you? I've got cherry wine, port wine, one red... plus some whiskey." He showed her the immense amount of alcohol he carried with him in his large bag with a friendly grin.

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