Guess what's back? You know you missed it. I'll have to come back to this and post the shaded version when I'm not struggling to fight the Sandman. Glad I was able to get this up.
Thursday, October 12, 2017
Saturday, August 19, 2017
New stuff on the way!
Getting a tablet next paycheck, so writing and compiling new scripts and comics as we speak. Looking at stuff at webtoon.com, and so far it's so addictive that I have been prioritizing it over WoW. Yeah, serious business here, people.
Saturday, April 29, 2017
What to do
So I'm toying with posting my fanfiction on Blogger and maybe Tumblr because even though I have stuff on Fanfiction.net, I've been looking over the rating policy, and I write rated MA+ fics, which fanfiction doesn't allow on their site (though I've read some recent fics that toe the line. My fics don't really leave much to the imagination, and though I've not had any complaints, I'd rather not risk an email that I don't see or something. Trying to see if I'm going to put it on this account (though I'd rather just separate it from Henaji altogether. I guess I'll just note in the fic itself that it has been altered from its uncensored version and include a link to the blog where it's being hosted. Anyone else had a problem with fanfiction's censoring their work?
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
The One that got Away Writing Prompt
You bump into an ex-lover on Valentine’s Day—the one whom you often call “The One
That Got Away.” What happens?
The radio was trying my patience today. I'd been tempted to just switch it off and run cd's through the karaoke machine: at least I could tolerate most of the music I'd bought for the store, and the weekend was more than a mere three days away. It was Tuesday, however, and open mic night was on Friday: I wondered if I would accidentally confuse the patrons already in Henaji. What I normally did was let the local radio stations of the internet cycle through the speakers. That meant we could listen to anything from Top 40 to K-pop, to soft rock. I wasn't really into the music that the random jukebox was selecting. Rihanna was usually fine with me, but "Disturbia" was a track that almost had me reaching for the cuffs and straight jacket from the get go.
"I don't see why you don't just do what they do in Olive Garden and make the music selection individual to the guests via the tablets."
That was Skold, my employee on the clock for the day. He was going to be working full shifts every day for as long as it took me to find some additional help. I hadn't put an ad in the paper yet or anything; something about the mood of the locals told me that I had enough karma building that someone would swoop into Henaji on the verge of a meltdown or something. It hadn't really happened yet, but maybe the day hadn't yet arrived. I had a positive feeling that if I could just hold out until said meltdown had a chance to happen, I would be pleased with the karmic results.
"I don't mind what they listen to themselves, it's the music up here and on the screens that gets me."
I clarified.
"Well, what's wrong with K-pop and J-pop music videos?"
"Nothing, but I keep waiting for someone to object when something explicit like, "My Little Box" comes on."
"That's because it's one of those guilty pleasure songs. The music video you picked turns out to be the opening scene from 'Ghost Ship'. Sorry, but every time I see that little girl die or the opera singer in that red dress, I expect her to come out of the television and start waiting tables. You two look nothing alike, but something tells me she's something close to your breed of lust demon."
"Ha, ha. That sounds interesting, I'll have to give it some more thought, but I wonder if it would pay off just to make that nightmarish scenario of yours a reality."
The bell up front dinged, and Skold and I turned to see if it was a regular or a newbie: Thursday wasn't early at all to introduce someone to the scene of the experience that came with Henaji, though it usually took a couple of repeat visits before the average customer caught on to the entire experience, like the fact that there was a back room where denizens of the Aetherial and humans could mix and mingle to their heart's content.
"Oh no."
The newcomer to the scene smiled, pushing his long, blond mane out of his eyes.
"Now that's hardly what I expected when I pictured our reunion, love."
I frowned, reaching for a glass almost out of habit, when I realized that the song of choice for the radio was "Love the way you Lie." Since the music video for that song involved glass bottles and fire, it suited my mood, and I wondered if Skold would have a smart remark for me now that things had gotten a little more interesting.
"Jerek Hal..." I practically purred at him, the name making my voice deepen from habit. This human, though I used the term loosely when it came to him, was so familiar that I almost dropped my glamour and let him see how much I wanted to be reacquainted with him; to pick up where we'd left off in the game of predator and prey. Not that he needed to know the state I was in to pick up where we'd left off. It took considerable courage to walk back into the spider's web knowing that the black widow sitting in the center was hungry.
"Love."
I didn't correct him. No matter what the past had been like, the truth of the matter was this: I was in love with him, had been in love with him since I met him. Past events had proven this time and time again, even when I was too stubborn to realize what the emotion was that spoke volumes about our time together.
"I expected you to show up here sooner or later, though in place of this establishment, it'd be a house and picket fence, and you'd bring a gift,"
"What sort of gift would I bring for you?"
He smiled broader at my suggestion, and I could see his eyes flick to the music video, taking in the violence of the scene, the feeling between the two in the scene mirroring the passion that had sparked more than a fire between the two of us already.
"Something I could feed upon."
I looked to Skold at that, wondering why he'd been so silent, though he knew what existed between Jerek and myself: had been there for me when the relationship had started getting rough and love had shifted to hate then longing, then love again. Jerek came right up to the bar then, pulling up a stool so he could see what was on tap for the patrons.
"Well, love, that makes for a very specific type of exchange, don't you agree?"
"Stop teasing me. I don't have time for someone who comes in, starts a conversation, then leaves me hungrier than when I started out."
"Yeah, but you have your bar slave here." Here he indicated Skold, whose lips tightened, a clear sign of anger at the term, though our relationship had graduated from mere bar slave and owner some time ago. "Don't tell me you lack in terms of feeding. Lust isn't something that's hard to come by."
That got him a direct glare from Skold, and I knew once he placed a hand on the bar that he was showing Jerek something that no human should have been able see without permission: his feline ears and tail winked into view.
"Ah, so I see this bakeneko objects to my use of such archaic language. Why am I not surprised that you have him so conditioned that it is this he objects to and not you feeding upon him?"
"He consented a long time ago."
"And was it willing?"
Skold answered this time, cutting in before I could say anything more.
"It was. If you are the one who left her bereft and needing a feed, I don't see why you object. Why are you bothering her?"
It was a good question, and Jerek left me wondering for a few beats before he came up with an answer.
The radio was trying my patience today. I'd been tempted to just switch it off and run cd's through the karaoke machine: at least I could tolerate most of the music I'd bought for the store, and the weekend was more than a mere three days away. It was Tuesday, however, and open mic night was on Friday: I wondered if I would accidentally confuse the patrons already in Henaji. What I normally did was let the local radio stations of the internet cycle through the speakers. That meant we could listen to anything from Top 40 to K-pop, to soft rock. I wasn't really into the music that the random jukebox was selecting. Rihanna was usually fine with me, but "Disturbia" was a track that almost had me reaching for the cuffs and straight jacket from the get go.
"I don't see why you don't just do what they do in Olive Garden and make the music selection individual to the guests via the tablets."
That was Skold, my employee on the clock for the day. He was going to be working full shifts every day for as long as it took me to find some additional help. I hadn't put an ad in the paper yet or anything; something about the mood of the locals told me that I had enough karma building that someone would swoop into Henaji on the verge of a meltdown or something. It hadn't really happened yet, but maybe the day hadn't yet arrived. I had a positive feeling that if I could just hold out until said meltdown had a chance to happen, I would be pleased with the karmic results.
"I don't mind what they listen to themselves, it's the music up here and on the screens that gets me."
I clarified.
"Well, what's wrong with K-pop and J-pop music videos?"
"Nothing, but I keep waiting for someone to object when something explicit like, "My Little Box" comes on."
"That's because it's one of those guilty pleasure songs. The music video you picked turns out to be the opening scene from 'Ghost Ship'. Sorry, but every time I see that little girl die or the opera singer in that red dress, I expect her to come out of the television and start waiting tables. You two look nothing alike, but something tells me she's something close to your breed of lust demon."
"Ha, ha. That sounds interesting, I'll have to give it some more thought, but I wonder if it would pay off just to make that nightmarish scenario of yours a reality."
The bell up front dinged, and Skold and I turned to see if it was a regular or a newbie: Thursday wasn't early at all to introduce someone to the scene of the experience that came with Henaji, though it usually took a couple of repeat visits before the average customer caught on to the entire experience, like the fact that there was a back room where denizens of the Aetherial and humans could mix and mingle to their heart's content.
"Oh no."
The newcomer to the scene smiled, pushing his long, blond mane out of his eyes.
"Now that's hardly what I expected when I pictured our reunion, love."
I frowned, reaching for a glass almost out of habit, when I realized that the song of choice for the radio was "Love the way you Lie." Since the music video for that song involved glass bottles and fire, it suited my mood, and I wondered if Skold would have a smart remark for me now that things had gotten a little more interesting.
"Jerek Hal..." I practically purred at him, the name making my voice deepen from habit. This human, though I used the term loosely when it came to him, was so familiar that I almost dropped my glamour and let him see how much I wanted to be reacquainted with him; to pick up where we'd left off in the game of predator and prey. Not that he needed to know the state I was in to pick up where we'd left off. It took considerable courage to walk back into the spider's web knowing that the black widow sitting in the center was hungry.
"Love."
I didn't correct him. No matter what the past had been like, the truth of the matter was this: I was in love with him, had been in love with him since I met him. Past events had proven this time and time again, even when I was too stubborn to realize what the emotion was that spoke volumes about our time together.
"I expected you to show up here sooner or later, though in place of this establishment, it'd be a house and picket fence, and you'd bring a gift,"
"What sort of gift would I bring for you?"
He smiled broader at my suggestion, and I could see his eyes flick to the music video, taking in the violence of the scene, the feeling between the two in the scene mirroring the passion that had sparked more than a fire between the two of us already.
"Something I could feed upon."
I looked to Skold at that, wondering why he'd been so silent, though he knew what existed between Jerek and myself: had been there for me when the relationship had started getting rough and love had shifted to hate then longing, then love again. Jerek came right up to the bar then, pulling up a stool so he could see what was on tap for the patrons.
"Well, love, that makes for a very specific type of exchange, don't you agree?"
"Stop teasing me. I don't have time for someone who comes in, starts a conversation, then leaves me hungrier than when I started out."
"Yeah, but you have your bar slave here." Here he indicated Skold, whose lips tightened, a clear sign of anger at the term, though our relationship had graduated from mere bar slave and owner some time ago. "Don't tell me you lack in terms of feeding. Lust isn't something that's hard to come by."
That got him a direct glare from Skold, and I knew once he placed a hand on the bar that he was showing Jerek something that no human should have been able see without permission: his feline ears and tail winked into view.
"Ah, so I see this bakeneko objects to my use of such archaic language. Why am I not surprised that you have him so conditioned that it is this he objects to and not you feeding upon him?"
"He consented a long time ago."
"And was it willing?"
Skold answered this time, cutting in before I could say anything more.
"It was. If you are the one who left her bereft and needing a feed, I don't see why you object. Why are you bothering her?"
It was a good question, and Jerek left me wondering for a few beats before he came up with an answer.
Housekeeping
Regulars Concepts:
-Various couples (dysfunctional)
-Death in disguise
-atmosphere addict
-Professor or two from the local college
-"Creature spotters" who come to record the weird and unusual happenings
-Superheroes
-Supervillain
-Hottie and the nerds who follow her
-Skold's former owner
-Ice Girl, girl gamer (mmo) almost neurotic about her in-game finances
-Najee, he's just all sorts of special.
Staff:
Raven
Maybelline: Cat type
Skold: Bakeneko from Japan, Black and white hair, Icelandic parent (forgot if mother or father)
Fiona: Feminist, very vocal about unfairness toward women, but also likes to play with the boys.
Pixie: cute, eye candy, Raven's little minion
Jericho: Mans the back, Cajun
Darren: Human, "No one hunts like Gaston"
Yoon Ju (NG): introduced in first scene has very typical ideas about love, etc.
Other:
Wisp: Store mascot, will-o-the-wisp, feeds on human emotion, leads Yoon Ju to Henaji
-Various couples (dysfunctional)
-Death in disguise
-atmosphere addict
-Professor or two from the local college
-"Creature spotters" who come to record the weird and unusual happenings
-Superheroes
-Supervillain
-Hottie and the nerds who follow her
-Skold's former owner
-Ice Girl, girl gamer (mmo) almost neurotic about her in-game finances
-Najee, he's just all sorts of special.
Staff:
Raven
Maybelline: Cat type
Skold: Bakeneko from Japan, Black and white hair, Icelandic parent (forgot if mother or father)
Fiona: Feminist, very vocal about unfairness toward women, but also likes to play with the boys.
Pixie: cute, eye candy, Raven's little minion
Jericho: Mans the back, Cajun
Darren: Human, "No one hunts like Gaston"
Yoon Ju (NG): introduced in first scene has very typical ideas about love, etc.
Other:
Wisp: Store mascot, will-o-the-wisp, feeds on human emotion, leads Yoon Ju to Henaji
Thursday, October 27, 2016
Aetherial Insights: Council Member Tezcatlipoca
I had a moment to wonder why he cared, why the badass jaguar god was coming to my rescue. I had no ties to Tezca that I was aware of: my history was Asian. If I lived through this, I'd ask my dam. Maybe he was associated with my sire, though that would almost be too easy. Whatever his affiliation, the fact that he was at all interested in me was rather terrifying.
"Release her, Mordred." he purred, his calm, almost careless voice flowing through the darkness, deciding my actions even more certainly than Mordred's hand around my throat. Oh no, there was no way I was moving, not while he was behind me, his commanding aura filling the air, pressing cloyingly around me even at that distance. I couldn't even sense Soren at this point. Hell, I suspected I wouldn't be able to sense Mordred were it not for our rather intimate circumstances.
"And why should I?" the scorned prince was surprisingly unaffected by Tezcat's display, his stance just as rooted as it had been before, If anything, his grip seemed to tighten, his fingers digging cruelly into my skin, eliciting an embarrassingly tender mew from my strained vocal cords.
There was a frighteningly complete silence before I heard the pad of the god's footsteps, his claws clicking as he stepped over the threshold into the softer shag of the room. I felt, rather than heard his sigh as he spoke again, as if speaking to an extremely amusing but rather slow child.
"Chantrelle is necessary for your scion's redemption. We did not receive any notice that she should die in order to accomplish this. She has had such a short time with young Morgan, even as humans measure these things. Release her."
It briefly occurred to me that his reasons were rather too casual for my liking. Then again, I'd never met a cat who could resist playing with a particularly interesting bit of prey. Come to think of it, he'd seemed very intrigued when I'd been brought to Ysephiel's chamber, even suggesting different methods to be tried upon me.
"Release her, Mordred." he purred, his calm, almost careless voice flowing through the darkness, deciding my actions even more certainly than Mordred's hand around my throat. Oh no, there was no way I was moving, not while he was behind me, his commanding aura filling the air, pressing cloyingly around me even at that distance. I couldn't even sense Soren at this point. Hell, I suspected I wouldn't be able to sense Mordred were it not for our rather intimate circumstances.
"And why should I?" the scorned prince was surprisingly unaffected by Tezcat's display, his stance just as rooted as it had been before, If anything, his grip seemed to tighten, his fingers digging cruelly into my skin, eliciting an embarrassingly tender mew from my strained vocal cords.
There was a frighteningly complete silence before I heard the pad of the god's footsteps, his claws clicking as he stepped over the threshold into the softer shag of the room. I felt, rather than heard his sigh as he spoke again, as if speaking to an extremely amusing but rather slow child.
"Chantrelle is necessary for your scion's redemption. We did not receive any notice that she should die in order to accomplish this. She has had such a short time with young Morgan, even as humans measure these things. Release her."
It briefly occurred to me that his reasons were rather too casual for my liking. Then again, I'd never met a cat who could resist playing with a particularly interesting bit of prey. Come to think of it, he'd seemed very intrigued when I'd been brought to Ysephiel's chamber, even suggesting different methods to be tried upon me.
Henaji-ish
I was so lost after what had happened in that room, so shocked after what Trent and his goons had done to me. There was a fire under my skin: a bright pit of sensation buried deep in my core. The only reason I was at this place right now was because I had to get away, had to leave my friends and seek an easy source of prey.
I sensed him as soon as I crossed the threshold, my head tilting in his direction, oblivious to the other partygoers: the careening, boisterous frat boys clutching their plastic cup of cheap beer, the women at the party hugging their chosen men close, already lax enough to allow a grope here, a lifted skirt there. I had chosen my entrance well; there would be enough ambient lust to sustain me for a while.
None of this mattered to me. All I could see was him. His scent came to me, the vulnerability in his eyes drawing me in before he even looked at me. I took but a moment to focus on blending in, knowing what he would expect from our relatively long period of association. Here was the guy I saw in class, in the halls of the college, and he would only be confused if he glimpsed the predator within.
"Looks like everyone had the same idea." I said as he became aware of my presence. I had drawn close, only allowing him to perceive me just as I stepped within his comfort zone, into that vital zone of intimacy, where the thoughts of men and women alike began to turn to more primal things.
"Yeah.. This is definitely the place to be tonight." His voice held the weight of his smile as his expression turned from cautious to delighted and warm; he had apparently been ill at ease in such a situation. He drew me into a hug, the gesture seeming almost automatic, and, fool that I was, I let him do it.
Immediately, I knew what my body had tricked me into. His inherent caution, his naturally shy personality... Here was prey. He was all the more attractive because of his familiarity with me; I would know exactly how to draw him in. It would be easier and more filling than flitting about these strangers for the night.
"I don't know anyone else here..." I heard myself say, taking the hug and turning it into a caress, my nails catching on the material of his jacket. This was bad. I couldn't force myself to move in that moment, couldn't let go of him even if he'd burst into flames at that instant. I was trapped within myself in a ritual that was older than this society, this plane of existence. I was at the mercy of my need.
"I came with some friends, but they're off somewhere. I think I'm going to have to play designated driver."
I wasn't really listening to him at this point. I could feel the warmth emanating from him, could read his body as well as any of my more malevolent colleagues. The artery in his neck was beneath my lips, and that excited me too, though I was no vampire to open it and drink from his lifeblood. I was already deciding how I was going to do this: all I needed now was the opportunity. The party was big enough and loud enough to mask any noise, but even I wasn't good enough to feed deeply in the public eye.
"Are.. Are you okay?"
I froze as his hands grasped my arms at the elbows, my eyes widening as he drew closer of his own free will, his scent changing subtly from vulnerability to calm, quiet strength. It was as if his entire aura changed, and mine clung to it, drawing from it the means to snap me out of the hunting trance, This had never happened before, not with a human. I backed out of that embrace, and I knew my eyes were wide with shock.
His were full of questions, and his face held a puzzled expression, his mouth quirked in a very peculiar way. I stared at those lips, and mine almost drew back from my teeth, very nearly sending me back into that trance. The strangeness of his aura surrounded me, and I used that to force myself to step back, even as his hands tried to keep me from leaving him. I couldn't afford to talk to him, not now, not when I still ached. I'd do it later, when I was more in control of myself and the situation.
I fled upstairs, where some guests had entirely left the action downstairs for a party of their own, where I could depend upon young adult vigor and hormones to stave off the worst of my need. Only when I felt that I could face him without being hypnotized by the strength of his aura did I venture back downstairs, praying that he'd have left already.
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