A shot in the dark

HS AU Karakael and Elloran

2009-12-21T07:13:57Z

((Working on something for DDD, might as well post it here. Premise is an AU High School Virus. Karakael and Elloran were both struck. The Visitor escaped.))

A young man walks by, humming under his breath, his head buried in the sheaf of music clutched in his hand. Yet the memories, when the come, are not of that man a thousand years dead, images blurred by time an guilt, but rather the clear, pristine lies the community has spun for its game. Fifteen years of memories wrapped up in a single, true name: Elloran.

He, the watcher, will feel guilt later, when he revisits these addicting lies. He can wish his relationship with the younger man could have been so simple - even as the lies blur with reality and he mentally chronicles his true journey from mentor to friend. Would that his life were so simple, composed of Latin and History and a scholarly passion for tragedy. Would that the boy-turned-man before him remain forever locked in that moment of concentration, not yet realizing that he lived a lie. Let his innocence last.

How many dreams had been indirectly filled by this seemingly simple virus? Home, family, career - easy enough to achieve in such an 'alternate universe' yet nigh impossible in the twisted reality they called home. And what of harder wishes? Love, certanty, purpose...and harder still, that innocent simplicity that steals away the depth and distrust their respective pasts force upon them. To live so close to 'happy', with friends and family, lovers and ironically perfect careers, and for once to have a beautifully certain purpose...how cruel it is, then, when the musician glances up and catches the Latin teachers eye and - in an instant - the virus is broken.

Time tears them apart, leaving behind only expressions and memories - expressions that will be branded in memories for years to come. From one there is confusion as a friend transforms into a scarred monster, impossibly alien, ancient and weathered, yet impossibly familiar. From the other the overwhelming pain of realization and acceptance of the pain that he is just beginning to realize. The expressions fade with the disappearing faces, leaving only the memories.

Memory

"Kaaree. Just the man I was looking for. This is Ellie. You know, the former Dean's boy? Terrible story, I know. But listen, would you be able to watch him for the weekend? I simply can't miss this conference. I knew you'd be the one to come to, old chap."

"I must admit, I do not like children much, despite the charity works they attribute to me. But I imagine we can both agree that your guardian is an ass, correct?"

"Shhh. It's alright. Your father cared very much for you. I'm sure he never meant for this to happen."

"Do you really mean it? I've got a good voice?"

"Ugh, if I was castrated, its not like I would loose anything. At least, nothing as important as my voice."

"He wants me to go into Seminary. I guess that was your suggestion?"

"Certainly, you can sit in on one of my classes. Do try to be quiet, though. I'm afraid these students are not as advanced as you, despite their age."

"Karakael. I'm gay."

"Boy, do you think I didn't know?"

"What do you mean, your father kicked you out?"

"This is Steve. He's in my band."

"You can't...no, you don't need to do this. I can pay my own way."

"I thought...maybe we were the same."

"I do not appreciate what you did to my translation. No, I am not laughing, why would you think that?"

"Why would I care what your former guardian thinks?"

"Of course I'll come to your concert. No, I will not need free tickets. I've already reserved mine."

"I thought I might take up teaching, like you."

"Please don't tell them. I don't...I don't want to be treated different because of what I am."

"I accept you. How many times do I have to say it, child? From the first damn time I picked you up and let you cry on my shoulder, you've been my responsibility. You think I'm going to let that go now? If you need to be with him, then go. I'll take your class."

"Dear sir, I will be resigning my tenure at this university, effective as of the end of this semester. While I have over looked slights to my honor and attacks on my dignity, I cannot idly stand by and accept the treatment of one of my students. Signed - Karakael. P.S. Be warned, I do not take lightly to threats leveled at those I consider my family. Expect the federal investigation to be occurring shortly."

And now for Elloran~

2009-11-16T20:06:10Z

Wait, what? Both Karakael and Elloran got the high priestess? You've got to be f*ck'n kidding me. They have the complete opposite personality. Damn their 'compassion'.

You Scored as II - The High Priestess

The High Priestess is a card of intuition, instinct and hidden knowledge. She knows all your secrets, you can hide nothing from her. Yet you will never know the secrets she herself protects.If well aspected in a Tarot spread, this card can indicate the use of intuition to solve problems; trust to your instincts. If badly aspected, it can mean suppression and ignoring of such instincts - following your head at the expense of your heart.

II - The High Priestess

75%

XIII: Death

69%

XIX: The Sun

63%

VIII - Strength

56%

I - Magician

56%

III - The Empress

50%

XI: Justice

50%

X - Wheel of Fortune

50%

VI: The Lovers

50%

XVI: The Tower

38%

XV: The Devil

31%

0 - The Fool

31%

IV - The Emperor

31%

This, however, fits rather well.

You are The Hermit

Prudence, Caution, Deliberation.

The Hermit points to all things hidden, such as knowledge and inspiration,hidden enemies. The illumination is from within, and retirement from participation in current events.

The Hermit is a card of introspection, analysis and, well, virginity. You do not desire to socialize; the card indicates, instead, a desire for peace and solitude. You prefer to take the time to think, organize, ruminate, take stock. There may be feelings of frustration and discontent but these feelings eventually lead to enlightenment, illumination, clarity.

The Hermit represents a wise, inspirational person, friend, teacher, therapist. This a person who can shine a light on things that were previously mysterious and confusing.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

shoving this here until i have the time to fill it out for various characters

2009-11-13T18:37:59Z

The Character Expression Meme
Character: Karakael
Journal: hok_ton
RPG: dramadramaduck

.happy.	.sad.	.angry.	.scared.

.disgusted.	.surprised.	.flirty.	.sexual.

.confused.	.shy.	.playful.	.rage.

.hurt.	.guilty.	.bored.	.laughing.

.sarcastic.	.tired.	.wtf.	.pride.

.sympathy.	.evil.	.innocent.	.in love.

YOUR	FOUR	FAVORITE	ICONS

WANT TO DO IT TOO?
Snag yourself the coding here.

Edit: Alright, I'm just going to make this a basic meme post/thread...mostly for Karakael.

It fits rather well.

Oh gods, and the results for this one are just....off. Which is sad as I said several times that Karakael wasn't female. I suppose this is what I get for being forced to say "Oh, but of course I am compassionate. What kind of Inquestor do you take me for, mun?"

You Scored as IV - The Emperor

The Emperor represents power. There is nothing subtle about this Tarot card. The Empress has power through love.The Emperor has power through power. He is in control, he is forceful and ambitious. Nothing will stop him. He is a natural leader, having either been born to the role or having disposed of all those who stood in his way. If well aspected in a Tarot spread this card can indicate success. It represents obstacles overcome, goals reached and ambition fulfilled. If badly aspected it can indicate either weakness or an abuse of power.

IV - The Emperor

81%

II - The High Priestess

75%

VIII - Strength

69%

XIII: Death

69%

I - Magician

63%

XV: The Devil

56%

XVI: The Tower

50%

XI: Justice

44%

X - Wheel of Fortune

44%

0 - The Fool

44%

XIX: The Sun

31%

III - The Empress

19%

VI: The Lovers

You are The Tower

Ambition, fighting, war, courage. Destruction, danger, fall, ruin.

The Tower represents war, destruction, but also spiritual renewal. Plans are disrupted. Your views and ideas will change as a result.

The Tower is a card about war, a war between the structures of lies and the lightning flash of truth. The Tower stands for "false concepts and institutions that we take for real." You have been shaken up; blinded by a shocking revelation. It sometimes takes that to see a truth that one refuses to see. Or to bring down beliefs that are so well constructed. What's most important to remember is that the tearing down of this structure, however painful, makes room for something new to be built.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

footseer @ 2009-10-25T17:55:00

2009-10-25T21:55:11Z

Well, this is a new one. Normally I have too much devilish fun writing snarky characters. I have almost no experience writing completely honest, lovestruck idiots.

Which is making writing a Renais blushingly accepting J's proposal on microcosm a rather interesting experience.

I'm probably going to reread her answers later and gag at the purple, cliche ridden prose. But it is quite worth it right now.

=.=

2009-10-09T15:02:08Z

Feeling a bit crummy, because one of my friends called my stuff unoriginal. :/ Derivative, yes - but I thought that I at least had some original ideas.

Am having fun designing all of my anime club into Inquestor-esque characters. Beyond that, nothing much.

footseer @ 2009-07-03T23:36:00

2009-07-04T03:56:49Z

You know, I went through an entire anime (all eight episodes) and screencapped for one relationship, and the two characters involved. (I ended up with almost two hundred pics total.)

I really, really thought that my 'ship' of them would somehow be disproved by the realities of their situation and - well - actually seeing it again.

Yeah, I was wrong. I think I came up with even more proof this time, rather than less. The way he looks at her when he says her name, the way their motifs end up matching (both have wings of some sort, and have complementing colors), the theme of her being able to touch no one (except when she realizes she can touch him), the plot itself, the fact that they hold hands for almost three straight episodes...yeah. I'm not sure how much more cannon you can get, without him offering her a ring. (They share a boat, isn't that good enough?)

And thats what I've been spending the last few days on. Screencaps will be included later.

footseer @ 2009-06-06T12:34:00

2009-06-06T17:21:10Z

Everyone knows about Fate. Than nebulous, anthropomorphized being that ensures that 'Destiny' happens, that the inevitable truly is inevitable, and that all the universe functions as it should.

However. Fate only 'works' on those worth his time. Those rare few whose lives are so astronomically important that he needs to intervene so catastrophe does not befall the universe. Sometimes he has to take drastic measures to ensure all is as it should be.

But what of the 'little' fates that happen daily. The time you bump into an old friend on the street, or happen to get the right number on the first guess. The one in a million chance that doesn't mean anything. Except, perhaps, to the people involved.

There is a word for that. And, as with every 'concept' word, there is a personification. "Coincidence" is hardly as flashy as Fate, but she is just as powerful. And she acts on all, regardless of who they are, or where they're from. She is small and quiet; someone you would miss on the street. But where she walks the world changes, only slightly, and the possibilities are skewed in the strangest ways.

footseer @ 2009-06-02T23:31:00

2009-06-03T03:39:53Z

place holder. idea:

One Percent and the Stereotypes

Cultural anthropology characters, The Enigma and One Percent working on the side of the government, the Stereotypes being the 'bad guys' who wish to make everyone close minded and static. They search out and destroy people like the Enigma for their abilities to change who they are depending on the situation, which the Stereotypes see as dangerous.

One Percent is the Cult's (Bureau of Cultural Studies) android, who personifies the '1%' of the population that is somehow unusual. S/he has strange abilities and powers, gained from the fact that s/he is linked to the global unconciousness, as is The Enigma. In fact, the data needed to create hir was gained through studies preformed on the Enigma.

The Enigma was found as a child. Hir traits are heritable but unusual, leading the researchers to believe that s/he is not merely a fluke of the universe, but in fact part of a species much like the Stereotypes. It would be almost impossible to locate and identify Enigmas, due to their inherent ability to fit into any situation possible. Still, it is possible that s/he is the last of hir species due to the Stereotypes efficiency at exterminating people like hir.

footseer @ 2009-05-29T15:20:00

2009-05-29T20:56:19Z

I get most of my inspiration for my art and writing from the classes I take. Strange, isn't it? And I've recently found that the best way to work out frustration (when its targeted towards stupid policies, people being idiots and humanities incompetence in general) is to create superheros to combat the problem.

Obviously, this does nothing in the greater scheme of things. But it sure helps me feel better.

So Zorra, Border Patrol and Culture Shock won't be doing anything to combat the worlds problems in our world, but damn they're fun to write.

Zorra
This little lady came about as a result of my irritation at a bunch of economic policies, most of which was impacting South American countries. Oh yes, remove all barriers to trade, then completely flood the market and destroy sustainable industries - and claim that this helps their economy. Or have large multi-national companies come in and buy up all the local land, turn it into plantations, and use slave labor to grow their products. Of course, this is all cheaper to you, the consumer, so who's complaining? Its better for the economy, it must be better for everyone else.

Riight. I don't agree with that, and neither does Zorra.

One of the problems with this system is that we overproduce things like bananas and coffee, thus driving the price down and making it almost impossible to both give the producers a living wage or break into the market. Legally, there isn't much one can do about it. People will by less expensive products, and that's that. But if you're willing to get your hands dirty and turn into a vigilante...you can do things like - say - burn down plantations and banana fields. Or, in addressing another problem, sink carrier ships that bring in subsidized produce from foreign countries.

No, it doesn't actually solve the problem, and requires a pyrotechnic to pull it all off. But a sixteen year old high school student from Chili can't really be expected to look to the future or get all the economic implications. But she does like seeing things burn.

Culture Shock

Arguably the oldest of my super heroes, both within his cannon and out of it. A young, pampered son of an American Diplomat, CS has grown into a capable administrator who runs his fathers company. He also steals art in his spare time. You see 'pampered' has a rather different meaning when you realize that the best education can be found not in some oblivious boarding school, but at a madams brothel. Isn't it far more interesting learning history from the losers perspective?

CS may be a part of the old rich, but that hardly means he has to act on it. Why not fight back against them by stealing those pieces of art that all of those bourgeois old boys keep locked away and never look at? Art is supposed to be seen, not ignored. CS will at least appreciate it. And he just happens to use one of the few museums in the city as a base. Its open to the public - unlike those store rooms that he's always sneaking into.

C.O.P.

Short for City. Officers. Patrol. the C.O.P.s unit of the cities police force was just recently created to combat the 'superhero' problem. Of course, their funding is tiny compared to that of their biggest opponents. And half the officers involved would prefer doing their real job - protecting the citizens of NewSin - rather than chasing around men in tights. But they aren't the ones tugging the governments strings; its not the people of NewSin who are being hurt by the rise in vigilantes, but rather the corporate company owners and politicians.

So the nine to five job of twelve of the best and brightest police officers in the city is to identify and arrest potential super heroes. Since many such heroes have special powers and tech, the C.O.P.s unit operates out of small, person sized tanks. Well - they are small by tank standards. And they are small by mech standards as well. But you can tell a C.O.P. from a mile away by the huge, shambling form of metal, springs, and sirens.

Its almost impossible to fit in and move one of the C.O.P. units. As of yet, only one officer has been able to pilot and operate the machine to the standards needed to both combat super heroes and interact with the public. She is flexible, smart, and seems to have a personal connection with Culture Shock. As with all of the C.O.P. officers, her information is highly classified.

Border Patrol

As the newest addition to my 'team', B.P. is probably the one I know the least about. She - or he - is a result of my irritation at my anthropology book. No, really, I don't think dividing countries down ethnic lines will solve anything. It would probably make things worse. There are millions of ethnicities - it would be impossible to satisfy them all. Beyond that, isn't that taking the 'easy way out'? It would be the same as dividing countries based on religious identity - and we see how well that worked out in India.

Still, it truly is a problem when a country is composed of four or five very different ethnicity, many of whom thoroughly dislike eachother. The borders should have been drawn around such ethnic lines, but instead were drawn by a bunch of western imperialists who didn't listen to what the 'natives' wanted. But what do you do now?

B.P.'s solution is rather hard to implement. Its simple - just remove the borders. Allowing people to move freely between different countries makes everything easier - whether it be economically or socially. Its worked rather well for the European Union, why not implement it else where?

I enjoyed designing her/him. I'm playing with the idea that the reason s/he can transport quickly is because s/he is not physically there, merely using technological systems to project his/her consciousness from place to place. Since being a full time super hero (unlike C.S. and some of the others) is rather time consuming, B.P. is probably in a coma and conducting his/her activities through the 'net. S/he is college age, and an economics major (hence the emphasis on free trade). S/he gets into arguments with Zorra over policy and the proper course of action, but the two are fast friends.

Chel

I debated throwing this girl in here. Chel is from an off planet species that specializes in 'speaking' to plants. Her pet cause is quite similar to my own in that she is a staunch environmentalist - though she takes it a step further to become and eco-terrorist. Were I to import her into the Culture Shock universe, I might make the character a bit different - perhaps using another petauristini instead of the over powered Chel.

She is a superspeaker, a petaur whose powers are so great that she was forced to live off-planet for most of her childhood, otherwise she would have destroyed her civilization by instinctively aiding the growth of every plant on the planet. She still wears many power-restriction rings and bracelets, and is part of a special galaxy-wide task force that literally rebuild planets. Depending on where in her personal cannon she is taken from, she either is running a tea cafe with her partner or is still working with the eco-terrorist organization her sister helped start.

update

2009-05-07T16:09:32Z

Been working on a bunch of stuff. A few meme's for DA, as well as some preparations for the upcoming DDD virus.

Here's two things from the latter. Poems, actually. I've never been much of a poet, but a hearing them read aloud really does help.

Having some problems with the first one. I can't come up with the last couplet. 'Disambiguous' is not a word, according to my Microsoft. Coming up with these couplets is harder than it should be - must be words of similar length that begin with the same letters. Of course, once I figure out one of these, making more will be far easier. (At the same time, I worry that this is far too difficult for me, and that if I had a larger vocabulary it would come easier. I hate feeling stupid.)

So. Defense spell, a la twelve fair kingdoms.

Safe
Barrier
Defense
Revolved
Positioned
Surrounded
Disambiguous
Circumference
Distinguished
Sanctioned
Protected
Repelled
Deflect
Bound
Safe

Wish I could have turned it around as an attack in the second half, but I had enough trouble figuring that one out.

Enough about that! Here's the second 'poem' - one that I haven't worked to death, and so sucks.

I wake to the tears of a god

There is a start and I realize
Quite suddenly
That I am awake, alive, again
Strange

And there she is,
Sitting on my window ledge
Staring out at my crazy world
Beautiful

Tears drip down her face
Out of clear eyes unclouded by lies
trickling down past graying lashes
showing her
wisdom

The tears dwell in the crevices of her face
And it is here that I find
That she is everything I had hoped to wake to
Everything I had forgotten.

Beauty
Strangeness
Wisdom

She is a true god
Not one of those fake-smile tricksters
Begging and finagling for their followers attention
No

She is one that knows what it is to make a human
Not blood or bone,
not fat or skin
not cum or tears, merely
Time

And what else could make a person?
A real person, full of angles and shadows
Perfections and pains,
Loneliness and joy
Perfect and incomplete

Only time.
Time for a mother to smile
Time for a blow to hit
Time for a friend to die
Time for love to grow

The woman before me has seen all
The time
The tears
The pain
The love

She has seen it,
She has made it,
A god in full
Both a part and above her creation
Perfect

And I find myself touched
That she would cry for me
A mere mortal, a nothing
Worth but a blip in her time
But still
worth
it
.

dreams

2009-04-24T04:06:58Z

I had an interesting dream today. The only reason I could remember it was because I woke up every five minutes or so to check the time, needing to ensure that I was not late for class. (I was, but only by a minute).

The dream was...strange, to say the least. It was creepy and could be construed as rather frightening. But I find that, to me, it reflects the Thailand belief that death in dreams suggests good luck in real life. I've never had such a positive dream about death.

But what happened?

When I climbed up in bed this afternoon I was fully intending to take a nap and think about a certain pairing that I couldn't stop thinking of all frick'n afternoon. But somehow my dreams went from a rather stereotypical couple working through relationship problems to an odd, creepy ghost story.

Basically, a girl had drowned in a pool, and was haunting the apartment complex where she had lived and died. 'I' was one of the school girls who lived in the apartment - one who had just recently moved in and was in truth investigating the ghost. The 'me' I remember was a young girl - about ten or so - oriental (likely Japanese) wearing a dark blue plaid uniform. The setting was a decrepit apartment building, and the whole tone of the dream was blue and gray in the way that screams 'gothic' or, more likely, rainy overcast skies and windy cold days.

The story itself was complex, and hard to remember. The girl was abused by almost everyone - 'my' fellow school girls gave her light torment, her mother beat her, and the young boy my character developed feelings for picked on her. I cannot remember whether she did commit suicide or if it was murder, but in the end the ghost was dispensed and 'my' character went back to living normally - after preforming one final act.

She was the Death of an older man who was at the heart of the story. I do not believe he was truly at fault when it came to intent - but it was he who had beat the boy, and had sparked some of his aggression. The man was not too terribly old, and lived in a light filled apartment with his gray-haired, overweight wife. He seemed to be slightly mentally retarded.

The last scene I remember - before I did have to get up and go to class - was the girl who was me explaining to him that he was going to die, and giving him time to make his peace. We ended up standing before the mantle piece, where he had hung a painting he had been working on. It was a yet to be colored Christmas card, portraying a ribbon and brightly colored ornaments. As a kindness to him 'I' showed him what it would have looked like, were it to have been finished.

It was gorgeous.

He wanted to stay alive, so he could paint it, but she/I took his life away anyways. Some how, this was right, and he went to sleep against his wife, never to wake up.

The image of the Christmas card stayed with me for over an hour after I woke up and went to my art class. And I can't help but wonder - why do I think that 'my' actions were right? Simply because he needed to die? Or because I had given him a gift - something to do in the after life?

footseer @ 2009-02-16T23:02:00

2009-02-17T04:03:04Z

Soi Fon stood firm, outside in the training grounds where she and Yoruichi used to spar and practice. It was her day off from both work and the Woman's Association. With a day this dull Arrancar and Hollow activity seemed down to a halt.

"A bee can't pollinate if they're no flowers for it to have fun with." Soi Fon reiterated to herself calmly. She gazed at a specific tree and stared at it for a decent, good, and long five minutes. Moving her hand up slowly towards her chest she only to let it drop back down a second later never reaching said destination. Turning away she left the small forest and moved to the streets of Rukongai. It wasn't long before she ran into a drunk Shunsui with Jushiro slightly behind apologizing on his behalf.

Shunsui laughed and staggered a bit proving he was truly hammered. Giggling and put his right hand to his mouth he stood still moving his feet to keep his 'balance.' With his left hand reaching up he pointed at Soi Fon.

"You know for someone with a small chest..." That was the end of that, even before Jushiro could stop the catastrophic event Soi Fon had nailed two hits. Hitting Shunsui in the gut and Shunsui hitting the floor.

"Jushiro, you let your leash down. Maybe I should call for Nanao to escort Shunsui home?" The question had this pissed tone to it. It was so much as he called her chest small it was the moral of being drunk this early in the afternoon. The comment just broke the last straw on the camel's back.

"Would you actually? I need to get to Retsu I am late for my check up." Jushiro spoke happily and appologetically. With his left hand on the back of his head he sifted through his hair and chuckled a bit.

Soi Fon sighed at his question then nodded after his statement. Jushirp was a very ill man and she couldn't punch him for his actions like she did to Shunsui. Doing so would go against her morals.

"Go." The statement came swift and she stepped to the side. Looking around slowly as he left she saw a random young shinigami. "You!" The word spilled out like it came from a drill Sargent had just called to gather the line of soldiers up. He came up a little shocked by this noticing the captain on the floor.

"State your name and your squad." Once again that tone spilled out and she waited for him to speak.

"Poe of the 12th division ma'am." He replied honestly but nervously. He looked like a wreck as he waited for her to continue.

"Poe I need you to go get squad eight's lieutenant Ise Nanao. Tell her, her captain is drunk at an inappropriate hour. Also tell her that he is incapacitated at the moment for a very harsh comment he made while intoxicated. I need her to come remove him from the streets. I will wait here till she arrives." The order spilled out and the shinigami nodded and rushed off heading to Seireitei.

"This is beyond unbecoming of a captain shinigami Shunsui." Her words were near silent as she spoke to the passed out snoring Shunsui.

----

Soi Fon stood firm on the training grounds where she and Yoruichi used to practice their [what?]. It was one of her free days – she neither had to work at [where?] nor perform her duties to the Woman’s Association. In addition, the Hollow and Arrancar activity seemed minimal.

“A bee can’t pollinate if there are no flowers for it to have fun with.” She repeated to herself calmly, staring at a carefully selected tree, counting quietly as five minutes passed. A hand reached up, almost to touch her breast, before dropping back down, never reaching its destination. With a sigh she turned away and left the forests, moving instead to the busy streets of Rukongai.

Almost too quickly she ran into a drunk Sunsui and an ever apologetic Jushiro. Shunsui simply laughed and staggered backwards, fighting to keep his balance. With a widely swinging hand he pointed to Soi Fon.

“You know, for someone with a small chest…” The leer was interrupted with two strikes – one from Soi Fon’s fist, slammed almost instantly into his gut, the other as she threw the drunkard to the floor.

“Jushiro, you let your leash down. Maybe I should call for Nanao to escort Shunsui home?” The irritation leached from her voice – a result of the insult to her chest as well as the moral sin of being plastered this early in the afternoon. It was with satisfaction that she had floored the brute.

“Would you?” The [boy] looked remarkably appreciative. “I need to get to Retsu – I’m late for my check up.” He ruffled his hair, apologizing again.

Soi Fon sighed, but nodded. Jushirp was ill and she couldn’t punch him for his actions – no matter how much she wished too. It would be against all her own, superior, morals.

“Go.” She barked at him, stepping aside to let the other man pass. But now she had a drunkard on her hands, and no where to put him.

“You!” The startled young Shinagami glanced up, surprised to see a Captain advancing upon him.

“State your name and squad.”

"P-Poe of the 12th division ma'am." He replied honestly but nervously.

"Poe I need you to go get squad eight's lieutenant Ise Nanao. Tell her, her captain is drunk at an inappropriate hour. Also tell her that he is incapacitated at the moment for a very harsh comment he made while intoxicated. I need her to come remove him from the streets. I will wait here till she arrives."

The young man did a service to his own captain – he did not balk at the order, and instead fled to attend to Soi’s order.

As he faded into the distance, she turned her ire upon the slumbering drunkard.

"This is beyond unbecoming of a captain shinigami Shunsui." Soi Fon bitterly complained, glaring at his smiling form.

Endive and Alecka - Arguments and Lace

2009-02-16T03:32:33Z

“This is worthless.”

Endives face fell. Damn and blast, he needed that money. But no, another shop, another disgusted look, and no way anyone was going to buy his jacket. He couldn’t really blame them – the jacket was old, broken in. Not to mention it only fit his species. So instead of arguing the intrinsic value of the coat, full of memoires and – unfortunately – holes, Endive shrugged and nodded to the shop owner in defeat.

The bell on the door tinkled as it shut behind him, expelling him from yet another pawnshop. He pulled his companion away from the dusty shop window, tugging her from the layers of tightly wrapped plastic that served for glass. The dent were she had pressed her nose against it still remained, along with the stretch marks, and would for days until a new layer was added.

Alecka had been oblivious to the outside world, completely preoccupied with the trinkets displayed in the window. Endive cursed himself for foolishly leaving her outside – it was dangerous for an innocent like her to be so out of it. Of course, he knew that she would be more trouble in the shop than out of it; he shuddered to think of the damage she could, which in fact she regularly did, cause.

But when he pulled her from the window she snapped out of her daze, and immediately attached herself to his arm.

“Did ja do it? Did ja sell that dumb old thing?” Endive winced again, this time at the coarse slang she had picked up. Her cousin would not be pleased.

“No, I did not.” Then he added. “I don’t think we’ll be eating tonight.”

Endive slipped out of her arm lock with practiced ease, preferring instead to grab her hand as he tugged his way through the crowds of Sun Dusk City, not looking behind him to see if she could keep up, and for once not particularly caring.

To an outside observer the scene would have been almost comical. A Harvey sized rabbit-human hybrid pulling a little Victorian girl along behind him, threading his way through the crowded streets with practiced ease, while she bumped and jostled behind him.

Endive was a tall, gangling boy of fourteen, the sort that leaned towards skin and bone and little else. His pelt was brown and shabby, his ragged brown hair so tangled as to seem almost dreaded. The months had only worsened his rumpled condition – if not for his pelt his ribs would be showing, along with the bones in his short muzzle. His whiskers drooped, as did his ears. The only thing that remained bright were his caste-marks; the bright yellow chevrons that ran up and down his floppy ears – seven on one side, four on another. It was these that caused him so much trouble, for they declared his station more clearly than any other indicator. Four on the right ear – lower middle class. Seven on the left – thief.

Alecka was different. The three months she had spent with Endive had barely changed her condition; she was still the exact same pudgy ten year old, the only difference being in the amount of dirt coated on her pale white skin at any given time. Still, she was the cleaner of the two. Her hair still was the same bright gold, her skirt the same bright blue. The apron was another story – white can never hide grime, but the girl had tried her best to ‘keep up appearances’ and the magic that was inherent in the lacy white creation helped far more than any attempt she made to wash it.

Despite this, it was Endive who always looked more a part of the cities they stayed in. One could look at Alecka and see instantly that she didn’t belong – somehow there were circumstances that had thrust her into her current lowly position. No pretty young human child of ten should be wandering around the slums of Sun Dusk – and as they passed people would often comment on how horrid her parents must be, to let their child run in the streets like a commoner. That or they jumped to the other conclusion.

Endive didn’t like the second option, despite it becoming more and more uncommon. The farther they went from the upper class parts of the cities, the farther they trekked from the places where humanoids were common, the more he became a grimy victim of the slums and circumstances that he found himself, the more and more likely he was to be accosted for taking care of such a pure white child as Alecka.

He still sported the most recent set of bruises from ‘concerned citizens’ of their last city. But he could handle police, and steal her back from any house she was put in. The rabbitoid was far more concerned with the situation that they had yet to find themselves in – one where there were no concerned citizens, instead thugs who would want a ‘piece of his action’, and might be willing to do more than just rough up the thief who would oppose them.

Not like Alecka would know anything about the dangers they faced. To her everyone was nice. She had been given everything from food to toys by the good Samaritans who ‘helped’ her. And she couldn’t understand why Endive always took her away from them. They were nicer than he was. They didn’t live in some dirty hovel. They gave her food, instead of scrounging for scraps.

She said as much as they jostled their way into the deeper parts of the city, Endive managing to glare down all the potential Samaritans by acting as if he knew what he was doing.

He listened with growing irritation as she continued complaining, all the way through the deep slums and out into the forest of abandoned construction supplies that had been their home for the last week. By then it was growing dark, a phenomenon in and of itself in the perpetually dark Chasm they inhabited. But Sun Dusk City was in a high open part of the chasm, making it light for most of the day, and making it all the more necessary to find shelter for the night. Luckily he managed to glare down an older couple that was vying for the same water pipe that he was aiming for, and they were able to find a reasonably enclosed space for the night.

“And that’s why you’re stupid, and I’m still hungry.” The Maister child declared, sitting on the edge of the pipe and swinging her legs off into space, pouting slightly.

Endive sighed, and stripped off the unfortunate coat. “Deal with it.”

“I don’t wanna.”

Silence, as Endive counted to ten, very slowly under his breath.

“An’ you’re just mean because you’re used to this, be’n poor an’ all.”

Silence. Another count, another attempt at not losing his temper.

“If you just did what Ayin told you to do –“

She pronounced her god fathers name Aiee-in, in a sing-song voice that not only grated on Endives nerves, but also reminded him of the bastard who the name referred too.

Still, he made an attempt to be nice, to be calm, and to not get angry.

“I don’t have to do what Ayin says.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do tooooo. After all, that’s the only reason he saved you…right?” And she smiled - a little half smirk that Endive couldn’t see in the gloom, but could tell from the tone of her all-too-proud-of-herself voice.

“But Ayin was awful dumb for saving you. You can’t do nuth’n. You won’t steal, and you won’t feed me, and your dumb, an’ don’t know anything. Aaaayin knows everything. He’s good at magic, he’s always nice, and he always has food, and the only dumb thing he’s done is give me to a stupid, mangy bunny.”

I will not get angry. I will not get angry. I will –

SLAM!

“You DON’T get to call me that, Maister.”

Alecka looked surprised, and turned to see Endives fist denting their make-shift wall.

“You don’t get to call me that, you don’t get to call my family that, and you certainly don’t get to treat me like this, brat.”

Alecka’s jaw dropped. But now that he’d started, Endive was hardly going to let up. So instead he grabbed the back of her dress and yanked her through the divide back on to the ground.

“You called me useless? Me? What have you done for the past three months? Absolutely nothing. I don’t see you having to find jobs. You don’t have to ask people for handouts. You don’t get the shit beat out of you every time we leave places.

“So don’t talk to me about ‘useless’. You’ve done nothing in our whole time on the run. Just complain, complain, complain. ‘Oh Endive’ save me from the scary wolves. ‘Oh Endive’ clean my cloths. ‘Oh Endive’ feed me, I’m hungry. ‘Oh Endive’ Ayin’s soooo much better than you. And you have to do everything he says.

“Listen, brat, he doesn’t own me, and you don’t either. He saved me from certain death? So what. He didn’t save my family, did he? He didn’t save my dad, or my mom, or my sisters and brothers, did he? No. He saved me. And he saved you”
Disgust laced his voice, and he didn’t even care about the shocked look on her face.

“Tell you what. I’d give anything for you to be gone right now, and replaced with my little sister. But guess what? She’s dead. Just like you would be if your big bad cousin hadn’t decided to do the one nice thing he’s ever done in his life, and fob you off on someone who doesn’t need you, and could care less if you went and died somewhere.”

She was sobbing now, big tears rolling down her cheeks as he berated her. By now he didn’t care, because this had been coming for so long, and she was the only thing he could scream at, could hurt. He didn’t even notice that they had gained an audience.

“I don’t know what you did to get yourself stuck on the run. And I don’t care. But I do know that if you weren’t here, my family would be still alive. And I wouldn’t be so god. Damn. LONELY.”

He paused, just long enough to wipe his own face, trying to no cry as well, trying to no remember their faces. If he did…if he did he wouldn’t be able to take it. He wouldn’t, couldn’t remember their screams, the way they had ran – the way his father had thrown the little ones to get them out faster, even though it did no good. The way his mother had held his littlest sister so tight thinking that that would be enough. The way his eldest sister had locked all the doors, and hid some of them in the basement. The way they looked, all of them, all of them splayed out on the floor in front of him. The way he hadn’t been able to do ANYTHING at all. The way he had looked into the monsters eyes, and recognized the face behind the mask. The way – the way – the way -

The way that he would, at that moment, have done anything to be with them, even if that meant the end of him, forever. The fact that he still would.

No. He couldn’t think of it. Wouldn’t think of it. Would just think of the girl in front of him, whose fault it was, who never did anything right, who was so perfect that she had been saved when all the rest had died.

He breathed in, ready to start his tirade again. It was right that she was crying. People like her never got hurt…

But –

But there were no more words. None that he could say. And before he could start again, reviewing the same anger and arguments that turned in his mind, a hand fell on his shoulder.

The spell was broken – no more would his audience listen unchecked to his tirade. Already a woman was holding the girl, curling her up in a bear hug and glaring at Endive over the heads of her own numerous children. The hand on his shoulder went up and further up into an arm attached to a grim faced man with a shaggy beard and cold eyes. A bird flicked open a mage light, illuminating the circle, while all around them people closed in, becoming members of the scene rather than silent observers.

When the blow came it was almost expected. But it still sent him tumbling to his knees, doubled over around his stomach. Another, harder blow hit his head as the males and masculine closed in around him, ready to do what they saw as justice.

His hands were yanked behind his back and he was dragged forward by the ears. When he was able to look up, he saw the circle reformed, Alecka at its center, curled up in a blanket and glaring at him, loved as always.

“Apologize to the little Lady.” A shaggy dog man demanded, craning Endives head upwards.

“Shan’t.” His arms were twisted farther back and he was shoved to the ground.

“She didn’t deserve that, you monster.” Cried the shanty-town bear woman.

“Did to.” A kick.

“Apologize, or we’ll make you apologize.” This from a lizard who smiled as he said it, licking his lips with a long tongue and grinning.

“Don’t bloody care.” Another kick.

It was no use. He wasn’t sorry. So they turned instead to Alecka. “Were sorry ‘bout this, miss.”

“People like him got no right to exist, beatn’ up on young girls like you.”

“Maybe you should go home. We’ll make sure he don’t ever bother you again.”

“Oh yes. Vvvvery sssure.”

The girl looked up, frightened by the grinning lizard. But instead of doing as they suggested, she stood, and dusted off her petticoats carefully. Still sniffling a bit she walked over to where Endive lay curled on the pavement, holding his stomach with an expression akin to boredom, used to the pain already.

When she approached he managed to glance up, less angry and more curious. To his mind, there was no way she would forgive him. He’d be royally beaten yet again, and she’d be gone from his life forever. Ta-ta, so long, good bye, enjoy what little you have left of your life.

Instead, she crouched down to look him straight in the eyes. Green eyes looked into brown ones, and then she slapped him, hard, on the muzzle.

“Shouldn’t ‘ve yelled at me.”

Then.

“An’ I’m still hungry.” And with that she fwumped down on the dirt next to him, crossed her arms, and glared at the rest of the group.

They, in turn, looked shocked.

“But he – he yelled at you.”

“Dun’t matter.”

“He’s a thief!”

“Dun’t matter.”

“You’re better than him!”

She actually though about this, cocking her head to one side as Endive slowly sat up.

“Dun’t matter.”

“But…why?”

And here she smiled, and sat up straighter. “ ‘cus he’s all I’ve got.”

Endive blinked, and she explained.

“Just because he’s stupid and dumb and absolutely sucks at taking care of me…he’s not really wrong. I’ve never really done anything to make him think that I’m anything but all those things he called me. I don’t think I’d be able to do this on my own…and I think he’s the only one who can help me. That’s what Ayin said, and I believe it.

And…And I’ve never had any one like him before. He’s taken care of me no matter what, one hundred percent of the time, even if I was unhappy or mean. So…I think I’m gonna stay with him. It’s not like I can go home. My – “ She paused, clasping her hands “My parents don’t want me anymore, and Ayin can’t help me either. But…but he’s been nice to me. Even if he’s not perfect.”

She was crying again, but this time it was slow, little tears that trickled out of the corner of her eyes. And she smiled when he wrapped his arms around her, and then snuggled back into his embrace, confident that she was safe.

Because, despite all he said, she knew Endive would never, ever hurt her.

“Because I’m all that he’s got, too.”

He squeezed her tighter. Alecka was right. She was his charge, the one person he could protect and keep safe, just like he should have protected and kept his family safe. He would never, ever let anything happen to her. No matter what he said, he didn’t want her to die. Because...because if she was gone he would have no reason for living.

Everything he was and everything he had become in these last few months was because of her, both the bad and the good. Even if he didn’t know why or how, he had been saved because she needed him when no one else did. And that was enough.

So when for the first time ever she offered him a hand up he gratefully took it. And then pretended that he could actually benefit from leaning on her much lower shoulder. He stood carefully, ignoring the creek in his chest, confident that he had, in fact, avoided another broken rib.

“I think you’re ‘posed to apologize now.” She informed him, crumbling slightly under his weight.

“It’s “supposed to” Alecka. And I’m not going to apologize. Except for the part about wanting you dead.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But I’m still right about everything else.”

Alecka glanced up at him, and helped him down into the pipe.

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are…well, okay, you’re right about some of the stuff.”

“See? Trust Brother Endive. I haven’t led you wrong yet, have I?”

“I dun’t see dinner – so I think you’ve lead me awfully wrong somewhere.”

“Do you think about anything other than food?”

“Hmm.” She sat down, for once not complaining about the loose dirt floor of the pipe. “Only when I’m hungry.”

Endive smiled, and pulled his coat down over her. “Well do something about that tomorrow.”

“Is this worth anything?” Alecka shoved the cloth over the counter, and crossed her arms.

The store owner nearly dropped his monocle. “Wh-where did you get this?”

Endive looked just as shocked. The lace was perfect, pristine and white, if a bit tattered around the inner ends. But before he could jump to the proper conclusion, Alecka was speaking again.

“Endive says that it dun’t matter where I got it, as long as it’s good. Right?”

The man tugged on his mustache and looked at the magic cloth. “It doesn’t have any spells on it, does it?”

“Only enough to keep it clean.”

Another, tentative pause, in which Endive looked surprised, and glanced down at the trailing ends of Alecka’s skirt. He was about to speak when the other man cautiously gave out a price.

“I suppose I could give you…twelve pestares.”

The rabbit paused, and switched from his intended action of berating his charge to berating the shop keeper.

“Twelve? Are you out of you mind, sir? Such fine silk is something you’ve never even seen before. We’ll take nothing less than a hundred.”

The poor man nearly choked on his glass.

“H-hundred? Surely you wouldn’t expect that much, would you, little lady?”

“No.” She said, earning a smile from the shop keeper – a smile that was quickly erased. “I expect a hundred and fifty. Bottom line. And get your mangy paws off my silk if you can’t take it!”

The store owner looked back and forth between the two children, muttering slightly “but the damage…”

“Hundred and sixty.” They both said at once.

He nearly cried. Endive and Alecka walked away from the store with a hundred and seventy pestares, a large enough windfall that they could both eat for the next two months.

Of course, they had to flee town the very next day on accusations of ‘stealing the good property of one Mr. Walrus’. And Ayin did chew Endive out for letting her mutilate her dress for the lace. But for once it was worth it.

A picture to go along with the story~

footseer @ 2009-01-12T15:28:00

2009-01-12T20:37:44Z

Sarah is in a pissy mood. When Sarah is in moods like these, she takes it out on other people. (and starts to talk in third person.) Sarah also has to hid the things she writes, because they would terrify small children. Luckly, she has a livejournal that will enjoy that sort of thing.

“You have no right.”

The Visitor froze, her face working to reassemble itself into a suitable picture of disgust. The attempt worked admirably, as disgust and horror mingled and fell behind a growing expression of anger.

“Right? You speak of right?” The voice was frigid, and power lashed across the room.

“You” An accusing hand flew. “Have no comprehension of what right I have.”

A single gesture sent the man flying, and he found himself pinned to a chair as the enraged woman stalked towards him. There was nothing more he wanted than to somehow, someway disappear before she reached him. Too late.

“Let me explain, in words that an insect like you would understand.” Hands were rested on his, and the monster stared straight into his eyes, weaving a dream-death.

“Imagine, if you would, leaving a room for an instant. Just a bare moment, all it takes to put away a toy. You pat your child on the head, and walk away, confident that nothing will go wrong.”

“When you return, you find your daughter on the floor; face split open, bleeding across the cobblestones, unable to cry for help because her neck has been snapped. Dying a slow, horrible death.” The godlets face contorted in a snarl. “You would understand that, wouldn’t you? You lost a son that way.”

“Imagine now that the causes of all this horror are her pets. Gifts you had given her that she had loved beyond belief. Pets that she had cherished. Say they are – oh – an ant farm.” She glances at her captive, the man white faced and terrified.

“You have returned to find them eating her. Bit. By. Bit. they are consuming her, pulling her apart as she lies struggling against them. She can no longer cry, because her eyes are gone. She can no longer scream, because her tongue has been eaten. But you can feel her, now that you have returned. You watch, unable to stop the calamity, and you feel her. Calling. Begging. SCREAMING for your help.”

She pauses, observing her work with the man before her. He quivers in fear, his ears ringing with the agonizing screams of the children he has killed. The pause lengthens and then God whispers tenderly into his ears.

“Let me tell you something, Mr. Huitzilopochtli. I know you are not a bad man. I know this because you would have killed armies to bring your son back. You did, I was there. So why do you judge me when I kill ants to save my daughter?”

“You are lucky I left any of you alive at all.”

And that, my friends, is why you should only allow Sarah to have so much depressing in one day.
For more explanation go HERE

footseer @ 2008-12-03T22:03:00

2008-12-04T03:42:01Z

Uncovered this tonight in an old journal. Apparently I never wrote it up. Its my proof that I too have Naruto Mary Sues.

“Hello Orochimaru.”

He stopped, a few paces behind her, watching as she leaned to adjust the bed linens, apparently still oblivious to his presence, despite the statement.

“I never thought to find you here.”

The former ninja finished tucking the sheets in and stood with effort. Turning, she surveyed him, watching as his eyes traveled her form.

“You have been good to my brother.”

He nodded his assent, watching as she flicked a strand of gery-white hair over her shoulder and continued.

“I figured I might as well take advantage of that. Not that he knows I’m here, of course.”

“You are working as a nurse.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes.”

“You are one of the most highly-trained medical ninjas in this country and yet you lower yourself to this?”

She shrugged - a laborious effort for her overburdened form. “I can do good here.”

“Will you stay?” The question was asked lightly, as if the answer did not matter, but the monster before her wanted to know very, very badly. The woman shifted, placing a hand protectively over her stomach, and the child within it.

“No. I have no desire to raise my child in yours, or my brothers, world. I will not help you with your quest for power, Lord Orochimaru.” She pronounced the ‘ Lord’ bitterly, turning it into a dagger to thrust at him.

His lips curled in anger, and he raised a hand as if to make a seal.

“You would take me by force? And what would you do then? And what if my child’s father comes after you?” Again a dagger, again a twist.

The Snake dropped his hand and the snarl turned to a smirk.

“You still are cocky with your superiors, Oba. Some day it will get you killed.” And with that he disappeared in a flash of smoke.

The woman sighed, and leaned heavily against a wall. For whatever reason, her former companion had chosen to let her go. For now.

As an explanation:

Oba is a character I've had kicking around in my brain for quite a while. Originally she was a way to tie up the whole "How could Kabuto be Orochimaru's son yet still look exactly like his Adopted father?" problem. My (rather cliched) response was "he's a child of the man's sister."

Unfortunately, she's grown a bit since then. Oba is a product of her families history; a woman with inherited regenerative and healing powers but who is not particularly strong or motivated. She works primarily as a small-time traveling healer. Such a wild-card is not approved of by the Konoha government, even though her skills are minuscule in all areas excluding healing. Still, she is tolerated, as she poses little threat and has gained support of the local governments. (Okay, truth tell, I just like the ideas of gypsy healers.)

Her relationship to Orochimaru is this: he works with her brother. She worked with him while he was in Konoha. Any affair was short and pointless, she doesn't particularly approve of him but is hardly powerful enough to stop him, and doesn't care as long as she isn't directly harmed. He is attractive but their relationship ends there. No longstanding profession of love or affection.

Oba drags her young (illegitimate) child around with her, attempting to remain consistently ahead of both the Konoha agents and her brothers spies. It was this that gave Kabuto his rather strange childhood.

She dies as a result of sheltering him when he flees Konoha. The whole village she was staying in was butchered, leaving a five year old Kabuto as one of the few survivors. Orochimaru himself was presumed dead and the young boy was adopted by his uncle.

Someday I'll write out that full battle scene. (It explains why Kabuto wears glasses, and has a dislike of Konoha leadership.)

Ah, here's a Link that has a picture of her. (if you can see the light pencil marks on the other side, its a very rough young!kabuto and a fatherly Orochimaru.) I swear, if I ever do write the full fic, it will only ever *mildly* suggest that Orochimaru might be Kabuto's father. Nothing is known for sure!

footseer @ 2008-11-17T23:20:00

2008-11-18T04:23:17Z

So not 31_days entry today, but instead I have a short story about Hadrina.

“Actually, I’m the resident medic.”

A brown-haired mage at the other end of the table spoke, nodding slightly in her direction. J

“I could show you our facilities, if you’d like.”

Hadrina nodded, curious as to how well equipped the mercenary ship would be.

As they walked down the halls, Deak explained that they had only a small infirmary, usually handling only one or two patients at a time. He went on to tell her how grateful he was that another medic, and a properly trained one, had been accepted onto the ship.

“I only have the basics of the art down, never really needed to go farther. So we might not have some of the stuff you need. Just tell us if you find anything missing, okay?”

The door, painted with a large red ‘X’, swished open. Deak walked in, followed by an almost reluctant Hadrina. The girl was expecting the worst, and her shock registered clearly on her face.

After letting her stare for a good minute, Deak spoke, apologizing. “Ah, I’m sorry I didn’t think –“

“ohmygodyouhaveaquasi-defibanda darkband and and and…” The medical student broke her silence, the look of shock replaced by a much more childish look. Were one to compare it to her expression of getting her first ponybear, there would have been little difference.

When she finally ran down, having catalogued the entire room with a precision bordering on obsessive, she was able to speak a coherent sentence.

“HOW DID YOU GET ALL OF THIS?!”

Well, mostly coherent. The pitch hadn’t decreased any, and Deak winced.

“Is it that unusual?”

“ARE YOU- oh, right, sorry. Are you insane?! Half of this stuff hasn’t even been released by the federal association. And the other half can’t be afforded by most planets!”

“Really?” The older man scratched his head. “I just ask Hal for the machines whenever I run into a problem. Almost all of this stuff he built.”

The shocked look returned. The wiry little man with the robot assistant made all of this? And at the acquiescence of some novice healer? The mind boggled. Luckily, some of her royal training saved her from complete shock.

“I…I see. This…this will be quite adequate. Thank you, Mr. Deak.”

The man in question nodded, then left her with her new toys and one question on her mind.

“Who were these people?”

31 Days, Nov. 13th entry.

2008-11-13T05:37:18Z

Damnit, Missed it by three minutes! So close!

I guess that means that I shouldn't spend so much time writing about superficial characters...but gosh darn if I didn't actually 'get' one of my characters for the first time tonight. Weird how that goes.

Oh well.

Title: Last Test
Series: Wormhole (original)
Day/Theme: Nov 13// Back Alley with Allies
Rating: PG13-R (If you get all of the implied stuff, its kind of creepy)

The first time Alex had gone through the ‘test’ she failed miserably. It had been an accident; she and Balance had stumbled upon the street while looking for a club. Balance had been knocked out almost immediately, but Alex had managed to fight her way through half the thugs before she collapsed. The rest of their group arrived just as she lost consciousness, still protecting her slim warlock friend.

The second time Alex went up against the thugs she beat all twenty of them black and blue. No mercy, no kindness. She remembered what they had threatened to do, and she was never going to let them do it again. All of the people she remembered helping her, the sunny smiled Nate, that bastard Raskin, Euridice, and all the rest…they were gone. And thugs like the ones she destroyed were to blame. So she showed them no mercy, and strode into the bookstore at the other end of the block with a black eye and a look in her eye that the devil would recognize.

It had come as a surprise when she was greeted by name by a thin man with whiskers who offered her a place on the ship called “The Raven”, and an official position on the crew to go along with it. Her life reorganized itself after that, making her the woman she was today, and she hadn’t looked back.

----

Fizzle walked down the alley every day to get to her job in the bookstore. She ignored the leers and jeers, and kept her eyes glued to the pavement while she seethed inside. She had said, when she ran away, that she’d never take that kind of abuse again. But Felicity might fire her if she stepped out of line, or came to work with bruises. So she ignored her promise to herself and walked on.

It said something of the place she had run from, that she could hardly believe that a single woman, accosted on the street by punks, might get sympathy rather than disgust. Back home had a single man touched her she could have been stoned. She dare not risk that now, when she was mostly happy.

And then one day she turned a corner to find the man who had helped her, listened to her problems, held her when she screamed in pain, backed against a wall clutching a briefcase to his chest. Half his face was bloody, and a knife was being held to his neck.

Something snapped in Fizzle. No. She had seen that same scene to many times, and idly walked by. Seen girls her own age beaten and tearful, seen her mother whipped, seen her sister thrown on the streets for revealing her face…the pictures were painted across her vision, here replayed with someone who had never ever done a single thing to hurt her. Humiliated, degraded, begging for his life, just like she had so many times.

No. No. NO.

When she came to, half the street had been blackened. Her hands still tingled from the magic, and the man who she had rescued was holding her hand as if his life depended on it. And her boss, the bookstores owner, Felicity, was leaning in a doorway looking proud.

A tall man with whiskers walked down the street and, very seriously, asked her if she would like to join his company.

---
Deak watched the woman he would grow to love walk away from him, into a door way he hadn’t been able to reach, leaving him behind. Suddenly, the world seemed to grey, and he felt his consciousness slipping again. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t be that weak again.

All he carried with him was a briefcase and small computer. It was all that was left from the burned out shell of the clinic, the building that he had called his home for most of his life. Two days previously he had come home to find the protesters had made good on their threats, and bombed the shelter. He had gotten there in time to see the emergency workers drag his grandfather and aunts bodies from the wreckage.

Until that moment, all he had wanted to do with his life was continue his career in business, to work alongside his aunt in doing the work that she loved and cared about; helping people.

But why should he help people who would do that to doctors. Kill twelve people for the crime of what? Sheltering women who could run nowhere else. Giving food to children that, for whatever reason, ‘didn’t deserve it’. Helping ‘deviants’ with their claim to living life the way they wanted. Why should he help people who would hurt innocents?

Why help people who would do that to Fizzle. His eyes still clouded at the thought of the mess that they had found when they looked within her, half a year ago.

She had been right, all those months ago. People like that didn’t deserve to live. She could destroy the whole stinking world, and he would applaud her for it.

But that wasn’t an option any more. There she was, walking away from him. And he realized that there was nothing more in the world that he wanted to do than to follow her.

In the year that followed, that was what got him through the darkest hours. Follow behind that flowing red hair and wonderful smile. Follow behind those shy eyes that had sparked just enough to show that there was a beating heart within that chest, and a temper to go with that flaming hair. Follow her into hell, if that’s what it took. Follow her out through the other side of this darkness, and hope he was worthy enough for her by the end of it.

He transferred from a minor in medicine to a major in combat magics. When his professors asked why, he pointed to pictures of a burnt hospital, and to where the bruises still lingered from the stones he had received from the latest bout of trials.

They stopped asking eventually.

It took him a year and a half to take the test a second time. For him, there was no flash of light, no sudden anger or vengeance. His hands were meticulous, his blows careful, and his mind completely blank. Every combat instructor he had ever trained under would have been proud of his performance.

He never saw any of them again. It was a blessing, as most would have been disturbed by what their studious pupil had become. But their opinions didn’t matter. All that mattered was that flash of red hair, and the smile that left him utterly speechless.

And the man walking towards him, with an easy smile and salt and peppered whiskers, asking him a question that he didn’t even hesitate to answer.

---
Hadrina completed the test in an unusual way. She ran away.

Ran away and hid, then sneaked into the bookstore to ask for the rest of the book series Felicity had promised her for ‘coming to visit’. The Princess never even realized that there was supposed to be a test.

That is, until she found the rest of the crew waiting her return, most with stern expressions that hid an overwhelming desire to burst into laughter.

She was a medic. What else could one expect?

Hadrina certainly wasn’t a normal member of his crew by any standards. But Armour just sighed at their young charge and ran a hand through his whiskers in a thoughtful way.

---

Hal was the first to take the test, the only to have completed it in truth, without the thugs having to be coaxed in from other territories. The scientist had come with the express purpose of scarring the local populace away from the book store, certain that they might hurt his companion.

Felicity had told him time and again that it was unnecessary, that she could handle herself. But in this incarnation he was as stubborn as she, and refused to give in.

When he finally stumbled into her shop, most of his best devices had been broken. He was beaten and bruised, and looked dead to the world. But he managed a smile, before collapsing onto the carpeted floor.

Felicity sighed. After all this time, she should have gotten used to unnecessary chivalry. And who was she to complain? Not many girls had a geeky scientist who would go up against half a city for her sake.

-----

“-widened electric bands, applied equally, will temporarily unable most life forms abilities of locomotion” Droned the android Dave, carefully walking through the temporarily frozen forms of the gang members.

It almost made humanoids interesting. No, that was a lie, humans were always interesting. But he hardly understood why Hal found it so imperative to give him emotions. They seemed so unnecessary.

Behind him, a thug crashed to the ground, foaming at the mouth.

“Oh. Sorry. I seem to have miscalculated…”

Needless to say, Dave had many more upgrades before he was properly allowed to join the team. One of which gave him the emotions so critical to logical thinking, while another correctly altered the wave frequency of his machinery so it would not harm all living creatures who came near him.

----

Felicity was technically not part of the team. But she had completed the test just like the rest of them, and consistently wished that they had not decided to put the location right in front of her bookstore. No customers should have to come through a back door to buy books.

But she went along with it, remembering the rush of accomplishment she had felt when she had touched the door. No one was going to accost her on her turf.

Even if that turf was a dingy storefront that just served as a shelf for her hundreds of thousands of books.

She had brought the ‘monsters’ tea and cookies afterwards, healing them with a quick spell and a properly placed memory eraser. They ended up rather polite young gentlemen, even the one with the strange tattoos. And they were most helpful around the store.

The Book Witch called them her “Roses” and the name stuck. One of their albums hung in her display shelf, signed by all twelve band members. The band had broken up shortly after its debut, scattering the players across all arms of the galaxy. They still remembered her fondly, and sent her presents from time to time.

Admittedly, some of the ‘presents’ were more along the lines of ‘loans’: A man so tantalizingly familiar that it hurt to see him lost. A young woman so broken she couldn’t think straight. A young man who needed a friend more than anything else in the whole world. A robot who couldn’t see. A girl carried in by a boy who had come to the rescue a bit too late. A man running so hard from his past that he’d forgotten most of it. A kid with more power than she knew what to do with, trying to keep up in a grownups world.

All of them courtesy of a man she still remembered as a little kid tagging along with his tail between his legs, hoping to catch up to the ‘big kids’.

Now that man was grown, wearing a confident smile, and a perfect business suite, taking her hand and congratulating her on her accomplishment. For a moment, just a moment, she was tempted to tug on his whiskers and send him back home.

-----

When Raskin joined the team, Alex was leaning against a pile of boxes at one end of the ally. Her hat was pulled over her eyes, and it looked for all intensive purposes as if she didn’t care if he won or not.

Hadrina, on the other hand, waited patiently in the store, wondering if her services would be needed.

Hal and Dave hovered above a rare book, carefully scanning and preserving the pages.

Felicity watched the two with almost a maternal eye, though it was more focused on the safety of her book than that of the two scientists.

Raskin sighed, and looked down the street. Five months of training were about to pay off.

“Good luck, shifter-boy.”

Armour curled a finger through his whiskers, wondering if he would need to make a formal welcome. He didn’t think the shape-shifter would die but…who knew?

31 Days, Nov. 3 entry.

2008-11-04T06:00:38Z

So I missed it, just barely. But I am doing the November theme set for the community 31_days. Its been fun so far!

"Lately you make me..."

Karakael sighed, and set the bone with tired ease. It seemed that every time he encountered the firey godlet he ended up with at least one broken bone. But…this time she’d apologized. And the former Inquestor couldn’t help but worry. That meant she cared about him. That somehow they’d become friends.

And, in his long history, Karakael had only ever had one friend.

Elloran..he had been everything the Masked man wasn’t. Kind, thoughtful, open minded. And Karakael had loved him, with a quiet passion that had taken almost a thousand years to realize. It still hurt that the gentle Inquisitor was gone, ending his life in a flame almost twenty thousand years before.

But now, and other had come to take his place. A woman who seemed to rage at the entire universe, content to right all the wrongs she saw around her. Someone with power that a normal human could never control…but then again, she was as far from human as possible. An ever unstoppable, ever compassionate Visitor, laying judge one all humanities sins.

And Karakael could not help but smile and sympathize with a being who took the weight of the universe upon her own shoulders. After all, had he not tried to do the same, all those thousand years ago? So when the pet name slipped out of his lips for the first time he did not call it back, or attempt to explain the endearment away. She was Ellora, in the same way that he was Karre - two Gods who had finally moved beyond mutual respect and found friendship."

A bit on Du'Par

2008-10-15T03:08:33Z

A bit of Yohanna's universe, and a glimpse not only into her and her friends characters, but also in to some of the odd cultures that show up in her universe.

And proof that I can, in fact, write a homosexual couple. (Even if, technically, they aren't)

“Um…excuse me?” A young man with white hair and a rugged complexion stood in front of a table of younger students, looking decidedly uncomfortable. He seemed nervous, and fidgeted with the strap of his sidebag while waiting for the table to respond. They merely turned to stare at him with varying levels of blankness, prompting him to continue on.

“I – uh – was told that I should speak to a Miss. Yohanna?”

The tension eased out of the collected students, and most went back to their conversations. The small clique that sat farthest from where he stood still watched him, but their ‘leader’ smiled and waved him over.

“I’m Yohanna. You can call me Yoe. What d’ya need?”

“Well, I’m not quite sure. You see, I was sent here by the schools guidance councilor, a Mrs. Felicity. She seemed to think you’d be able to help me, but she didn’t tell me why.”

“Felicity sent you? Huh. Well, why don’t you sit down, and I’ll see what I can do.”

The white haired senior nodded, and keyed another chair for himself. Two other students shifted aside to let him in, introducing themselves as they did so.

“Hey. This is Sun, and I’m Tori. And you…?”

“Kon’ta. I’ve been a student here for the last four years. I’m a senior in the biology program.”

Sun nodded, recognizing the older student from a few of his larger lecture classes. Though they hadn’t spoken, he recognized the others face, and they exchanged polite conversation while Yoe tapped away on a small computer.

Tori, on the other hand, took an immediate distrust to their new table partner. Tossing her hair angrily, she interrupted Kon and Suns conversation. “I don’t see why we should be helping you. I’ve heard a lot about you, and none of it is positive.”

“Tori.” Sun spoke sharply, and was about to say more when Yoe interrupted.

“You must hear different things than I do, Tori. Scholarship student, pioneering genetics research, several achievement awards…you’ve done well for yourself here Kon.”

He shrugged off the praise as if he were accustomed to it. “It all means very little to me, honestly. Until quite recently all I cared about was my work, and how what I learned here helped with it.”

“Then why did’ja have to go to the councilor?” Tori demanded, triumphant.

“I’ve…I’ve been thinking of switching schools.”

“Why?” This from Sun, surprised.

“Well…” Kon trailed off, and looked down, ashamed.

“It’s because you pissed off all the other students in your class, right?” Tori asked, with a smile.

“That…that’s part of it.”

“But that isn’t all of it.” Yoe said, putting down her computer and looking across at Kon. “It’s because you’re Du’Par, isn’t it.”

Kon blinked, genuinely surprised. It had taken almost three sessions with Felicity before they had found the heart of the issue. And now this freshman had seen immediately to the truth.

“Du’Par?” Sun inquired, confused. Tori as well had her head cocked to one side, though she would never admit to being curious.

“Why don’t you explain it, Kon?” Yoe returned to her computer, thumbs moving on the screen but still watching her classmates’ faces.

“Well, as you’ve already said I’m Du’Par…”

Du’Par was both a religion and a culture, he explained. For most of the rest of the galaxy, especially on the small asteroids where it was gaining popularity, Du’Par was an exotic religion with a cute twist. But to Kons people, the original practitioners, Du’Par was a way of life, programmed into their very genes.

“The basic premise is that you live your life in groups of four.”

Which didn’t just mean that one normally worked in quartets. It also meant that government and community were based around the quatrarchy. Families most often had four children, and meetings were held in varying cubes of the number four. Not that these rules were strictly enforced, or even enforced at all. It just felt more ‘natural’ to be that way. Until becoming space farers, the Du’Par had never considered any other way of life possible.

“That’s all very nice, but that doesn’t explain why you’ve got such ‘issues’” Tori chimed in.

“Well, what people normally jump upon when hearing about Du’Par is what it’s named after. Dual Pairs. We marry in groups of four.” He looked around the table, to find the other three students unimpressed.

“You see, many other cultures and races mate in groups of two or three, or have no set mates at all. Most cultures find the Du’Par concept alien.”

“But to you, our world is alien.” This from Yohanna.

“Yes. I had thought that I would be able to handle it, the fluid nature of your social situations. In fact, for most of my life before I came here I chaffed against the constrains of my home culture. But…”

“But recently you turned into a player.” Tori again, glaring.

“Tori!” Sun snapped. “What is wrong with you?”

“No. She’s right. To your culture, the way I romance would seem unfaithful.”

“But to you, you’re simply trying to make a Du’Par.”

“Exactly.” Kon gave Yoe a weak smile, thanking her for helping him explain.

“Bull. You broke Rathal’s heart, breaking up with her that way. I’m not going to let you off that easily!” Tori burst out angrily.

“I merely suggested that she was as compatible with Perion as she was with me.”

“What kind of man would do that to someone he was supposed to be in love with?”

“A Du’Par, Tori. You didn’t mean to say that she should be with someone else, did you Kon? You were trying to suggest she invite him into your family.”

“Yes. But…” He paused, looking from Tori to Yoe and back. “I am sorry I hurt your friend, Tori. I too cared very deeply for her. Our separation…it was one of the reasons I came to the conclusion that I should leave.”

“To return home?” This from Sun, trying to understand.

“No. I was hoping I could take a year off, and return only after I’ve successfully repressed my sexuality.”

His statement was met with silence from the table.

“W-why would you choose to do something so drastic?” Tori asked, for the first time becoming concerned.

“There would be little purpose to returning home. My age group has already fully paired. My choice of lovers would be severely limited, and all to people I do not particularly care for, or to people I know nothing about. And were I to return home and begin a family, I would have to sacrifice my work. That simply is not an option for me.”

“So you’re just going to give it all up? Ignore that part of you?”

“That was what I was planning on, yes. But Mrs. Felicity believed that it would be very damaging to my psyche. And I can see where she is coming from. But neither she nor I could come up with any solutions. That is, until she sent me to you.” He nodded towards Yoe. “But I still don’t know how you could help.”

Yohanna looked back at him. “Well, for one thing, we gave you a Du’Met to talk in. That’s got to count for something, right?”

Kon blinked; then looked around at his new companions. It was true. The people around him fulfilled the classic requirements of a Dual Meeting; a questioner, a cynic, a sage, and a knowledge seeker. No wonder he had felt so comfortable in this group.

But Yoe was speaking again. “As for your problems, I think I know why Felicity sent you to me. If you meet me after school in the college biology wing, I might be able to help you more.” She grinned, and began gathering her books, just as the tone for the next period began.

----------

“What you need, more than a lover, is a mentor.” Yohanna stood on the steps in front of the college of biological sciences, just before the end of last period. She spoke to her companion as if they had been friends for far longer than the half day they had known each other. Admittedly, with her access to his records, she likely knew more about the white haired Du’Par than he did. Of course, that was going to work in his favor…at least she hoped.

“I suppose.” Kon leaned against a railing. “But there are no other Du’Par in Scklazy Northem.”

“Well…” Whatever she said next was drowned out as the tone for the final period rang, and an onrush of students fled down the stairs.

By the time it had quieted down, Kon had become quite a bit more disheartened. None of the students streaming by seemed the least bit interesting, much less be the sort that could help him. He turned to say as much to Yohanna, then caught the way she was still patiently staring at the doors.

They clicked closed, moving on well oiled machinery, and Yoe grinned. So Kon turned one final time to the doors, and met Fait staring at him head on.

The man who had closed the doors so quietly behind himself was not a student. In fact, he hadn’t been a student for almost ten years. His name was Takal, and he had been a professor for Scklazy Northem for most of his adult life. He was tall, with dark black hair tied in a long braid. Among the Du’Par, it was unusual to cut ones hair, and as such length was a sign of both years and knowledge. The man who was walking down the steps had gained both. He wore the lab coat and goggles of a professor of the sciences, and walked with the regal bearing most Du’Par took ages to learn.

But despite all that, he was shocked into silence at seeing Kon. The younger man was surprised as well.

Yohanna broke the silence. “Mr. Takal’kash, I’d like you to meet Kon’ta.”

“I…I didn’t know we had gained any Du’Par students.” The older man stammered, still watching Kon’ta, surprised.

“He’s a scholarship student, but you were away on Dete Prime when he transferred in. I guess no one thought to tell either of you two about the other.”

“I see.” Takal broke contact with the younger mans eyes and turned to thank Yohanna, before walking forward to formally bow to Kon.

It was obvious why Felicity had sent Kon to him. To be the only Du’Par in an entire school…and to try to be stable without a family group to support you! It was a testament to the boys strength of character that he hadn’t succumbed to insanity.

“You’ve been here four years, correct?” Tata asked, thoughtfully, after he had nodded Yohanna goodbye and invited the younger man to dinner.

“Yes. Why?”

“That means you went through Dar’Palak alone. Why didn’t your parents bring you back home for it?”

“My family doesn’t have much money. Since I’m to be a scientist anyways, it didn’t seem necessary to start a family so soon. I’d heard of other Du’Par who didn’t bond, and I thought I would just follow their lead.”

“You didn’t think that it might be dangerous?”

“No, not really. I haven’t seen any of the negative side effects until quite recently, and there are plenty of compatible species here at Scklazy Nort. I – I never thought it would it would be a problem.”

Kon sighed, massaging his forehead, before continuing.

“I…I was different in school, anyways. I thought it was because I wanted to be a scientist, and dedicated myself to that instead of other pursuits. I hit par’steth late, after most of my classmates had already started their romances. So I didn’t think it would matter if I never found mates…science was good enough for me.

But now I’m not so sure. I can’t imagine going back and trying to re-enter the game, after becoming so far behind. But its begun to hurt, being away from home, and being away from my family. I don’t want to give this opportunity up, but I can’t go on living this quarter-life.”

“I understand what that can be like.” The older man spoke, tracing the curve of his chin. Kon had to caution himself against following the roaming fingers with his eyes, and the way they moved. “I too am separated from my family.” A quiet pause, then continuing. “But I could teach you some mental techniques for getting over the pain of separation. I cannot guarantee they will work, but it’s better than those half-assed medications they sell now.”

His smile was returned by that of his new apprentice, and he didn’t dare say how much it made his heart glow.

----------

“So, did you do the right thing? I mean, just ‘cus he’s another Du’Par doesn’t mean that they’re going to hit it off.”

“You’re right. But I know something that you don’t~”

“Oh?”

“Takal’s husband looked exactly like Kon at that age. I doubt he could resist helping such a look alike.”

“That’s…that’s kind of mean.”

“So? It’ll work.”

"Why didn't you just wait until next term? I mean, they'd have met each other next year at Kon's first class."

"But then it might have been to late, for both of them."

And now for some bits of their later relationship

“Where are they?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re family. I know you’re married. So why spend all your time with me?”

“I … we don’t get along anymore.”

A silent pause, where Taka fidgeted with a ring on his left index finger. Then he sighed, and looked into the younger mans eyes.

“I haven’t spoken to my wife in almost two years now.”

“Your…wife?” Surprised at the lack of a plural. Normal Du’Par families had two ‘wives’ and two ‘husbands’.

“I…I would rather not talk about it.”

-------

Kon traced a finger around his lovers wedding band. He kissed it, marveling at how the gold had warmed in the heat of their love making. His eyes traced Takal’s body, finally resting on the thin chain around his neck. It held two more wedding rings, both tarnished from close contact with skin.

“They…they’re dead, aren’t they?”

Taka turned away, as if ignoring the younger mans question. A moment passed, then he began speaking.

“Yes. They died in an accident eight years ago. We…we were a team. But Kel and Tar went away on a mission, and never came back. I…Sheya and I were never the same after it happened. We haven’t seen each other for almost five years, and barely spoken even across gala-phones.”

His back shook, and Kon flung an arm around him, holding him close until he could speak again.

“You…you look like him, Tar. When we were young, he had the same smile as you. You’re different in almost every other way, except the smile. And I think I love that about you.”

“I think love you to, Takal.”

Silence again. Then Takal turned, and kissed him.

Asking for a Banning

2008-09-23T20:28:29Z

Why is this 'asking for a banning'? Because the stuff under the cut deals with sex between minors. Or, worse, sex between a minor and a non-minor. Specifically, intercourse between Orochimaru and a younger Kabuto and implied intercourse between Kabuto and Karin. I have no wish to condone the actions of the characters, instead I am interested in highlighting the issues one of the characters has because of his situation.

At the same time, this is not about rape or how terrible it is. I do not believe I have the maturity or understanding or, for that matter, tact, to deal with such a sensitive subject. One must remember that in the Naruto universe most characters act far older and more mature than their ages; this is likely a product of their culture. One must also remember that for many millennia sexual maturity was considered to be at the age of ten. (See, atleast society has matured a little bit) Technically, in Japan, Kabuto and Karin could be a legal couple, while Kabuto and Orochimaru would be as sick and twisted as it always is. Again, I don't condone either of these relationships, and much of the inner monologue deals with the results of said relationships.

To sum up: Sex with Minors is a Bad Thing, and screws people up. I agree with this statement wholly, and will stand by my story as agreeing with this fact.

So.

It was a strange question for an early-morning breakfast, though not unsurprising, given the night they’d had. Still, he took a moment before answering it, finishing the toast and serving both their plates before responding.

“I was twelve.”

The chopsticks halted half way to her face. “Twelve. And, um, who with?” She set the utensils down, and looked up at him, demanding further answers.

“Who do you think?” He smiled, but looked away, not meeting her eyes.

“Oh. That sucks.” She resumed eating, leaving him to think guiltily back on their night together, and of a night six years ago.

He hadn’t been ready. He knew that now, though he would never admit it to anyone else. He had been young, lonely, and willing to do anything to be recognized by the one person he wanted respect from. That hardly excused his mentor from taking his offer.

It was the confusion that came back to him. The overwhelming desire to please, coupled with pleasure he didn’t know how to quantify, all twisted together with a feeling of bewilderment and pain.

To an older man, the night they had shared might have been pleasurable, and looked back on fondly. All of the obvious signs where there – flushed face and wide eyes, a smile and thank-you. But the truth was that he had been twelve, just beginning to understand his own body, confused at the actions of others around him and trying to keep up. No, he hadn't understood why people had sex. He hadn't understood the reason why his mentor would like to share that with him. And he didn’t know what it should have felt like. He had labored under the impression for years that one was supposed to feel lost and alone afterwards.

Of course, he had learned a few good lessons from the occasion. He could outperform most of his colleges in the ammory arts, though he didn’t boast of it. He had added the skills to his arsenal, willing to use them in ways that most of his companions would shy away from in disgust. He didn’t mind the names that resulted from that; most of them were accurate, if unnecessarily crude.

He had learned the ‘right’ way of doing it afterwards, stumbling into the breathless exhilaration and joy unexpectedly. It had taken him years to fully understand why he felt the way he did - and why some nights he woke up from nightmares he couldn’t explain, while other days he woke from dreams that made him blush. He didn’t know what ‘sexuality’ he had started as; he had been too young to know when the matter had been decided for him. He would never be able to sleep with men without recalling the perversion that had prompted his understanding. That hardly meant he would stop and potentially lose some of his best sources. But it did mean that he would privately enjoy the company of the few women he felt comfortable around, keeping his preferences quiet.

“So…was it good?” Karin’s question jolted him out of his reverie, breaking the silence that had descended on the table.

“I guess.” He shrugged, and then collected their plates, glancing surreptitiously at her smiling form.

For a moment he worried that he had done the same to her, repeating the cycle of perversion. She was only a few years older than he had been. And he was using her on a pretext, just as Orochimaru had used him. Gods knew she didn’t need more scars in her life.

But…she smiled as she handed over the plate, leaning in to kiss him in thanks. And she giggled like a school girl and told him to “snap out of it” at his expression of shock.

She bounded joyfully down the corridor, disappearing back to her work, badly concealing what had happened the night before. Maybe his actions had not been so selfish after all. She had her reasons, just as he had his own.

She would be able to declare to her companions that she had done it for Sasuke, wanting to learn any and everything that could help in pleasing him. He could say he had done it to ensure loyalty, and to teach her one of the skills any chunnin should be able to call upon. Neither would find it necessary to mention the smile on the others face, and how – for a moment – it lightened their whole world.

You may commence with the tar and feathers. I probably deserve it.

But, to answer some potential questions...

No, I don't know why I shy away from using names in works like this. It just feels right to leave the characters as anonymous as possible.

For this piece, Karin's age was 16, while Kabuto was 18.

Much of the logic I find in their relationship is based around similar pasts and some weird experiments, and I'll probably do a full post about that later.

This was inspired by the fact that I've been considering playing Kabuto at a RP called Microcosm, which involves quite a bit of sex. To do that, I needed to flesh out my reasons for viewing him the way I do, especially in defense of my idea that he is mostly heterosexual. I'm not sure if this is the way I'm going to go, but this defiantly is one possibility.

Also, if you wish to be really angry at me for anything in this fiction snippet, remember that at least I'm admitting to the issues, and not blatantly ignoring them like many Naruto writers.

Edit - One more answer, with a bit of TMI: Yes, I am the sort of person that wakes from a ~~wet dream~~ fantasy and writes social commentary or angst filled monologue-ing. Don't ask me why.

The Shape Shifter history

2008-09-02T02:29:39Z

I've always loved shape-shifters. It probably has something to do with reading the True Game at a very young age. But not many put them into a science fiction setting, at least from what I've found. So I give you my take on Shape Shifters, set in a world far in the future. This essay is part of the opening speal from the Academy of Sklatzy Nortem, a bording school set on one of the planets in the Shifting Planes. It is targeted towards the prospective parents who would be paying to send their (mostly non-shifter) children to the school. It explains quite a bit of shifter history and culture, though leaves out some of the cool things, like the Festavale of Silent North for which the world is named. I wrote this mostly during work, so if it seems disjointed at times, that is likely a result of being inturupted by patients.

You must understand. The Shifter culture is far different from most of your own. While you value stability and predictability, they have evolved to worship change and chaos. Yet it is they who have had the longest lasting continuous government in our area of space.

So, unlike most of ‘our’ societies, that tend to stagnate after a certain peak and then become cultural vacuums, the monarchy of the Harken’knad has made consistent efforts to incorporate new worlds, new societies, and above all new genomes into their own.

In some ways this obsession with difference is fueled by their own DNA. Shapeshifters, as you probably know, can change their base DNA and form to reflect that change. But, to do this, they must have the potential genetic coding already within their genes.

True, most shifters can perform cosmetic changes; lengthening their ears, changing the color of their eyes, ect. They can also shift into recognizable forms – but never change into something smaller, nor can the change remain permanent. In such changes, their ‘essence’ – the blood and bone that makes up their core being – is not changed. Simple changes such as these are more illusion than anything else.

But if they have the core genes of a species, inherited in their own DNA, they can enact a complete change. In such cases the shifters very shape will change and remain permanent. They will have almost complete control over the body and remain ‘comfortable’ in this new form, retaining the ability to shift back and forth at will and enact cosmetic changes.

The problem, of course, is acquiring this DNA. Simple cosmetic changes cannot compensate for the full spectrum shift. Genetic research cannot offer much more than the most basic changes – after all, it took millions of years to find the very few winning combinations of genes for most species; it would be ludicrous to assume that science could merely call up alternatives on command.

Far easier was the choice that the first star-fairing shapeshifters made. Merely breed with the new species they encountered. The shape-shifting genes are normally dominant, and thus their children would inherit both the shifting ‘power’ and a new, additional, form.

But, like all such things, this added influx of new DNA became quite a political problem. Until then power and status had been awarded to those with the most abilities, whether it be excellence in cosmetic change or variety of form. Traditionally, those with the greatest abilities were part of, or became part of, the shifter nobility, headed by the monarchy.

Yet within a few generations that mandate could be threatened. Unwilling to give up one of the few ways to control their population the shifter high counsel chose a rather innovative solution to this problem.

They created the now infamous ‘Bastard House’; a clan of shifters whose sole purpose was to seek out and incorporate new genomes into the older shifter base. This clan was made mostly from the earliest explorers, those most gifted with forms and cosmetic shifting. And, in the way of governments everywhere, the Bastard House was only able to breed back into the royal family.

It is because of them that the nobility have retained greater shifting powers than the normal populace, despite centuries of interbreeding. The tradition of keeping the genome complex, accomplished by breeding back every other generation, has kept the shifter population and society vibrant and active, keeping it from genetic stagnation. But it had an unforeseen, if not unsurprising, side effect.

The shifter monarchy is not, in fact, the strongest shifter house. The Bastard House holds that title. Not only are they ‘ahead’ of the base genome by a generation, they also have a far stronger genome, not sullied by the constant intermarrying between the nobility.

This would explain why they have survived for a millennium, while dynasties rise and fall within the nobility. Yet the strange truth is that they have not died out, but neither have they advanced above their original status. And while the nobility seem content to let the Bastard House remain an urban legend and explain away their lack of upward mobility as a genetic quirk, this ‘unnatural’ attitude is likely more a product of the enforced poverty that the government forces upon the clan.

For, despite the necessity of their job, the shifter monarchy still views the Bastard House as exactly that; a house of bastards, an unfortunate necessity full of half breeds and renegades who are far to secure in their job and remain blissfully unaware of the ‘real’ world of shifter politics.

As such most members of that notorious clan remain in mediocre poverty, performing simple jobs of government bureaucracy or standing in slight disgrace as diplomats and border-edge explorers.

Programmed into their genes is a desire to both explore the galaxy and return home every few generations. The Bastard House as such is populated with free thinkers and mavericks, possessing some of the most innovating and intelligent creatures in the whole galaxy. Any institution would be proud to be supported by a member of this illustrious house, or to be gifted with the responsibility of training one of their young for the duties they will be expected to perform. Both those honors have been given to our institution, and we are proud to say that the support that the Bastard House and the Shifter High Council gives has allowed our school to excel in ways many would find impossible to comprehend.

spamming your friends page for the win!

2008-08-29T03:18:42Z

Here are two articles I've written up in the last two days. One is on linguistics (and elvish hate) and the other is a review of Yen+, inspired by the other reviews I read.

IPA vs. Elvish.

I likely have an unnessisary distate for the elvish language and alphabet. 'What is this?' I hear you cry. Dislike something invented by the great Tolken? No. I can apriciate what he did.

What I dislike is how his work has been used, and the actions of his sucessors. Tolken was a historian who invented the language of his world out of a life time of study. Elvish is a sillibant, awe-inspiring, well thought out language. But now it is used as the basis for everything. No years of study for the hacks who can simply copy it and have a sure-fire way of succeding and tying their name to something great.

Whats wores are the steriotypes Lord of the Rings brought us, steriotypes we are just now beginng to over come. There are millions of farie species ignored in favor of the world of elves, dwarves, goblins and trolls. Are not the 'real' fey more interesting than the high and mighty elves now used so often? Why cling to four or five species when you can use the hundreds of other farie prevelent in eastern and western mythology?

And just as those four (or five) species over shadow all else, so to does Elvish (and now Japanes) and its runic alphabet over shadow all other languages. For example, The International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA) which I just stumbled upon today. It certainly doesn't have a 'pritty' name - but it is beautiful in its own right and, more importantly, is quite functional. Another example would be the visible alphabet of Alexander Grahm Bell. Its used to teach the deaf to speak. Would that not be an interesting alphabet to base a story around?

Or, if we are to just speak of the languages themselves, why obsess about Japanees when one could use Cyrilic and Russian, or that outdated classic of Esparanta? There are millions of underloved alphabets and languages just as interesting and beautiful as Elvis and runic, if not more so.

This obsession with one or two languages extends to names as well. Again Japanese and Elvish are at the root of many evils as fans jump upon one or two words (say 'Sakura' or 'Tori') and ignore not only the thousands of other languages that could be refferenced, but also the rich cultural heratage of the very society they claim to love!

To me this seems foolish. True, just like every other hack author I do not have the time, or the drive, to invent my own language and do the research involved in crafting a workable alphabet. And I doubt anything I create will have the staying power of Elvish or (atleast for me) High Inquestoral. But I can research into other possiblitities and assign languages and alphabets as references, linking histories and cultures merely by a few letters. And I can use my lowest-common-denominator tranlator program to search out not only the word for 'ghost' in Elvish and Japanese, but also in French and Arabic. These actions may seem foolish to some, but to me it makes the difference between a bland, boring steriotype of a world, and one which reflects the variety of the real world...if only a bit.

- Post script: Because you should know what I decided/discovered while writing this: Ebauche is the french word for outline or blank - the perfect name for a ghost! And I will be using IPA the language of the UpWorlders in Chasm, as they are a very ordered people who would have a letter for ever possible pronunciation. The Maisters are still based on ancient greek letters, but Math*e*mat-ick-an's people use a visual language similar to Bells. All of the research I did to find this stuff out came from the great Wikipedia (during a really long day at work), belieing my apparant intellegence.

*Yen Plus*

At the moment, this magazine seems a breath of fresh air. Recently I’ve turned to more Western titles, fleeing what felt like monotony. Yen+ is offering many titles that are new and unique, at least compared to the stereotypes that run rampant throughout Shojo Beat and Shonen Jump.

Many of the titles offered are far from unheard of to anime fans. Soul Eater has a very successful anime, as does Sumomomo, Momomo and Higurashi. Similarly, Maximum Ride is a bestselling book series. It seems to me that Yen+ has specifically chosen most of these titles to guarantee a following.

And that logic certainly succeeded with me! I would have never picked the magazine up had I not recognized Soul Eater on the cover. I’m sure Maximum Ride garnered similar reactions from other fans. Unfortunatly, few of the hyped manga deliver so their draw quickly. Soul Eater begins as a fanservice-fest, which was a bit of a shock to me; when I read it online I skipped the ‘prequel’ series, and so had no idea that is was quite so brutal. I can understand the fan-service being a turn off for most. All I can say is ‘wait until it gets good’. Which it will, in exactly three chapters.

Higurashi begins slowly, thus translating badly into such an anthology magazine. Its only through prior knowledge that I know what to expect from the chilling story that is about to unfold.

Sumomo and Bamboo Blade do nothing for me…to the extent that I doubt I will continue reading either one. The school setting in Bamboo Blade strikes me as cliqued, as does the premise. While the female lead is interesting, she makes infrequent appearances and the chapters degrade into power trips by the GTO-esqu Kendo Leader. Sumomo is merely disgusting. What more can you expect from it? The humor is lowbrow and the plot an insult to women. One should distrust a manga whose premise is ‘moe girl wants to have sex with guy’.

Nabari No Ou has potential, though I had not heard of it before picking up Yen+. Again with the school setting and theme, but this time the plot is serious and well thought out, unlike Sumomo. I am curious to see how it develops.

Maximum Ride…I had no desire to read the book series, despite my sibling’s friends fawning over it. But in manga format I might be able to stomach it. After all, what better than pretty boy fluff with wings? I think the series will translate well in to comic-book format, though it will likely end up far more serious, as the humor from Maximum Ride comes not from the action, but the introspection. One of the problems with the manga adaptation stems from the fact that the author assumes either the reader has read the series already.

Sarasah and Pig Bride do little for me, mostly because I dislike the ‘shojo’ plot lines. Pig Bride has an interesting premise as does Sarasah, but the former has hooked me more. The protagonists are similarly dislikable in both, but Sarasah takes its heroines flaws as amusing jokes (despite the stalking) while Pig Bride approaches its hero a bit more balanced. The second issue offered Sarasah a bit more depth, but I am still not convinced.

Jack Frost…I could handle everything but the fan-service. Hell, even if there was less fan-service, I’d be happy. The heroine is interesting, the hero an Alucard-lite and the plot has potential. Yet the pandering just leaves me cold, even when it is used for laughs.

Nightschool has, by far, the most potential of the twelve manga offered. But to fully appreciate it, one should compare it to another manga with a similar premise: a school that teaches ‘monsters’ at night and how those monsters interact with the real world. The ‘original’ focused on a rather flimsy shojo plot having to do with vampires and the human girl that becomes central to their lives. I could barely sit through half a volume of it, much less garner such enthusiasm as my friends had. But Svetlana Chmakova has produced something truly interesting in ‘Nightschool’. Its plot has depth and a broad character base while the magic system is interesting. There is of yet no hero, which is a draw for me, as all sides seem to have good - or at least logical – reasons behind their actions.

And, more importantly to me, the cast is multi-ethnic.

Now, this is just a pet peeve of mine, but the obsession within the anime/manga industry with white, effeminate characters is aggravating. The whole world isn’t asian or anglo-saxon, so why must our comics reflect that? Both Nightschool and (later on) Soul Eater approach the issues of race fair mindedly and in a way that is note worthy: the issue doesn’t exist. The color of your skin or your heritage doesn’t matter. Seems to me that these manga are offering us rather good role modles!

Last, but not least, “One Fine Day”. I honestly did not expect to enjoy this cute Korean manga quite so much. I normally avoid series based upon ‘cute’ stereotypes but this one holds some of the magic of ‘Chi’s great adventure’. The main characters are loveable but never fall into the trap of being exploited for sexual innuendo. I found the plot device of showing the pets as children cute and an interesting tactic. One would worry about this being over used or misused, but it never is. The characters remain in character but remain true to their roles. The art style is sketchy but works with the themes. In other words, its harmless, sweet fun.

Overall, Yen+ is a fun read, and I highly recommend it to anyone.

I really will post *real* writing later, as soon as I beging transcribing my note book into my computer. 'Up next' will be more Naruto (not an AU this time!) and the beginings of "The strange case of the boy and his ghost" - a toon-world story.

P.P.S. Sorry for the spelling errors. Fire Fox and Livejournal don't mix well.

Interrogation: further NY-AU Naruto

2008-08-13T02:35:30Z

“Do not go gently into this good night…”

The young man chained to the chair looked up and responded

“Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

His interrogator looked surprised. The man had simply been reading from his notebook, and hadn’t recognized the quote. One of the young guards had, though, and was looking at the prisoner thoughtfully, if with a certain amount of suspicion.

“I’m sorry Mr., ah, Hemlock?”

“The poem. The next line is ‘rage against the dying of the light’. Its Yeats, sir.” The ‘sir’ was respectful but held a hint of scorn.

The interrogator returned to his clipboard, scrawling something. “None of the other children responded that way.”

“They must have forgotten. And if they have forgotten that…” the sentence trailed suggestively, with the innuendo clear as if he had truly spoken the words ‘you should let them go.’

The pale haired questioner seemed to ignore it, continuing merely with “I see. What was the poem again?”

“Yeats. Our surrogate father read it aloud to us often.”

“Ah yes, Mr. Snake. I hope you understand that he is the reason you are here?”

“I thought the reason was that you think we’re subversives.”

“Subversives because of him.”

Kabuto spat and glared at his guard.“If you are going to execute him, at least do it for crimes he actually committed.”

The masked man blustered, taken back but the sudden vehemence. “But he is a spy…”

“He is a refugee. As that secret service man who brought me in could attest to. He took hell to get ‘Mr. Snake’ out of China. I’m sure the Toad remembers.”

“So he was to vile even for China?”

Kabuto gritted his teeth. “If he had stayed, he would have died. China is not a pretty place right now. Especially for one such as him.”

“What was his crime? What terrible thing did he do?” Mocked the Inquisitor.

“He was homosexual.”

Silence, broken by a choking sound from a young, blond haired guard.

- - - - - - - - - -

“But he is still a communist. And he trained you –“

“He is not a communist.” Interrupted the young prisoner.

“What?”

“He is not a communist. He quite likes your system of government. It give rise to so many unfortunates for him to study…”

I should have gone to bed instead of doing this...

2008-07-07T03:03:04Z

Orochimaru, or Mr. Snake as the diploma hung on the wall proclaimed, had no trouble finding new children to analyze. It was rather simple in fact. He simply became a “foster parent” and quite literally had children delivered to his doorstep.

Of course the United Colonies government had luckily not investigated his arrest record to deeply. “Academic misconduct” is hardly a reason to forbid a kindly older gentleman from taking in needy children. Especially when he is so open to (as one of the social workers so kindly put) the freaks and problem cases of the foster care system.

It might have surprised his fellow professors (especially those who had his teaching license revoked) that almost all of the children that came through his home went away quieter, more content, and with an almost inexplicable knowledge of how to ‘beat the system’. The slight personality quirks they developed from his teaching hardly negated his overall positive effect on the children.

They all remained loyal to him. He gave them food. Shelter. A place to call home. And he listened to them.

All he wanted in return was for them to listen back. And they did. They watched as he quoted Milton, Poe, and Yeats. They listened as he spoke of his work, his dreams, his commitments to the medical science. And every one came away changed.

Rarely for good, unfortunately.

From them he was able to write five books on child psychology. His work with “problem children” won awards. And he smilingly accepted it, knowing secretly that none of the people who read his books knew what he did.

Almost ten years after he had been forbidden from teaching, and a further twenty since he had fled his homeland, he met his prized pupil.

The young man in question was a quiet youth. He had traveled across the country, and had been bounced from house to house for as long as he could remember. There was no set reason why he had never been adopted. People simply found him “not right.” Not right for them. Not right now. Not a good match.

He didn’t seem to mind. He was soft spoken for a child of ten. He rarely raised his voice or hit another child. His most striking feature was his almost silver blond hair, and that was normally all you saw of him. Head down, glasses buried in a book or homework. Fading into the background as quickly as possible.

At first Orochimaru had little interest in his newest addition. He was far more preoccupied with Kim’s passive-aggressive tendencies. But then the child began helping him.

It was a strange thing to realize, looking back, how easily Kabuto had inserted himself into Orochimaru’s life. It was as if he had finally found a place he was comfortable in, and set about making himself irreplaceable.

He began by watching Orochimaru. Within a week he knew his foster-fathers habits better than any of his fellows. Then he would make a point of being where ever Orochimaru was. Not obviously, but subtly. He would be reading a book in the study when Orochimaru was working there. He would be doing homework in the kitchen, or lounging outside. The snake only noticed it when he found Kabuto helping with his experiments, without ever consciously inviting him to join in. It was then he realized what Kabuto had done.

Despite himself, Orochimaru was impressed. The boy took everything Orochimaru taught him and stored it, and then asked for more.

After two years together, Orochimaru decided to reward his young apprentice the best way he could. By finding him a home.

Kabuto took his “assignment” well. He simply nodded his assent, then packed his bags and followed after his new father. As the son of the chief medical technician at a major hospital, he had everything he ever wanted, and the time in which to enjoy it. Orochimaru assumed he was doing the child a favor.

It was only years later, when he had decided to move back to the city, that Orochimaru looked up his former charge again.

Kabuto had gained a new ability in his time away. He had learned to lie.

He artfully explained away the bruises (a fight at school, don’t worry nothing serious, don’t report it), smiling easily and lovingly at his father. Only someone who had known him before would have ever guessed the real reason for his black eye and bruised arm.

Orochimaru smiled back, eyes flickering across the young man in front of him. And just as easily he lied about a new job, and a potential internship. And, smiling and skirting around each other, Kabuto and Orochimaru agreed upon their future.

Orochimaru walked away from the hospital with Kabuto in toe, making a note to never lend one of his former charges to the man. (They were only his to break, not nogoshimas.)

Kabuto smiled, and wished his adopted father well. He never once looked back. After all, he was returning home.

footseer @ 2008-07-02T00:03:00

2008-07-02T04:15:07Z

Okay, I need to squee about this to someone.

Karakael on "A Plague of Angels"

I am SUCH a geek. But that was so much fun! Though no one is going to read it. TT^TT. Still, its a start. And I already have his review of "The Snow Queen" written up. Now to think of some other books to analize.

Heh. I'm half tempted to actually send him through the Marianne books. But I can't do to many Tepper books.

Hmm.

Plague of Angels.
The Snow Queen. (I.E. Carbuncle)
What else?
Time enough for Love. >XD
Responsible of Brightwater
Pratchett (hell, why not? We don't have any characters from there!)
Patricia McKillip (but which one? Ombra in Shadow or Alphabet of Thorn? or one of the others?)

Any suggestions?