Normally, I save my spammy panicked posts for the blog, because that way it doesn't show up on people's friends lists. However, since the stupid thing is syndicated for livejournal, I can't do that anymore.
...actually, I can, I'm just going to feel kind of bad about it (for, y'know, the three of you who are subscribed)- and I feel the need to preface said spammy panicked posts with disclaimers like the above paragraph.
That said...
Paaaaaaanic panic panic. Whee!*splat* My inability to multiply whole numbers foils me again!
Oohhhh, panic!
*dies until dead from it*
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Monday, July 25, 2005
Snagged from B
"If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence/paragraph/whatever a small excerpt from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favorite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s)."
Aye, "whetting the general appetite." *snork* In my case, this is indulging in general wankery, but that's what this place is for, no? I just realized that I have about seventy thousand works-in-progress, because I never frelling finish anything. These would be the things I'm actively thinking about right now.
So! Non-fannish things:
Stella Matin (working title); standard and urban fantasy with zombies and dystopian societies. Excerpt from the end of the second partita: Bren's Story.
"I can have it finished in a few days," he said in a voiceless whisper. He knew enough about healing to know that his voice was never going to work properly again; his mother would be disappointed. "If nothing else, you can sell it. Radrezhaean crafts are worth a lot beyond the borders."
If Theron had even heard him, he gave no indication. He was too busy tracing the woven outline of flames and eyes. A pair of dragons sprawled across the surface, jaws locked around each other's throats; faces looked out from beneath the shadows of their wings.
"Why did you make this?"
There were a thousand different answers to that question; it was because Theron was leaving, and Bren had seen it, and because Rhapsody had haunted him since the night of the Festival. Bren settled on shrugging and giving Theron a half smile. His own face peered out from the tapestry, eyes accusing.
There were other faces; Shanreth and Mih, a woman with blind eyes, a man with no eyes at all.
--
Fannish things (all Naruto):
Blindsided (because I don't post enough bits of this as it is!); alternate timeline AU, Narutuo, Sasuke, and Gaara-centric, yaoi. Excerpt from chapter 4, damn its eyes.
"Ch'. Put your frickin' teeth away, I just wanna talk."
"And I just want to bite your spiky little head off and devour your soul, but we can't always get what we want, can we?" The demon's eyes glowed like hot coals, but they did nothing to illuminate the darkness of the cage. All Naruto could see were those two lamp-like eyes, and the teeth.
"Somebody's in a bad mood today. What's the matter, fleas?"
--
What Remains; alternate timeline AU, Kakashi and Obito-centric, mostly gen but with bits of boylove, because sex always makes Kakashi angst. Excerpt from a few (read: a dozen) scenes in the future; Kakashi is 18, Obito is 19.
Kakashi usually stopped by his place after missions; Obito wasn't sure why, since they saw enough of each other every day when Kakashi wasn't on assignment. He got used to his friend showing up on his doorstep at odd hours, sometimes grinning with one eye, sometimes half dead from exhaustion and bleeding.
So it didn't come as a surprise when he heard the door open at two in the morning; he wasn't a ninja anymore, but he kept in condition as best he could, and he knew Kakashi was due back. His friend had a spare key, but Obito met him at the door anyway.
"You look like shit," he said bluntly. "How badly are you bleeding?"
Kakashi's Anbu mask hung by its strings from lax fingers; his cloth facemask was stained with blood. "Internally or externally?"
"Your sense of humor still needs work. C'mon, lean on me." They hobbled into the bathroom, where Obito helped Kakashi out of his clthoes. He hissed in sympathy at the bands of bruises that wrapped around Kakashi's chest and abdomen. "What happened?"
"Anbu stuff. Classified." Kakashi leaned against the countertop and let Obito clean him off and bandage him up. His expression was neutral, but his hands were shaking ever so slightly with the effort required to keep up the facade.
---
Wind, Sand, and Bone; sandcestuous introspective-y whatsit. Excerpt from Temari's part. (Why. Can't. I. Finish. This. Fucking. Thing.)
Kankurou stares pointedly at the marks on her neck and slams doors hard enough to rattle the windows.
(Later, she apologizes to him without words, because he is her brother and she knows he will forgive her no matter what. He places his hands on her hips, lining his fingers up with the marks left by other men. His hands fit well over her skin, even if they never match the bruises- but afterwards, he cannot meet her eyes, and sometimes her apologies cut deeper than her transgressions.)
She is beyond feeling shame. She imagines her mother's shocked disapproval, her father's disgust, and wonders what freedom feels like.
----
I'm currently at the point where I don't really enjoy writing anything; I never really enjoyed writing Stella Matin, and I still don't. I don't actually like most of my original stories, because I'm always too aware of the shortcomings of the plot and characters as a result of my own obsession with setting. It's frustrating. As for the fanfic, I'm just feeling blocked because of stress and the lack of inspiration from my source material; the latest manga chapters have been craptastic.
*gnaws on things* I'm running on nervous energy because of my paper right now; it's not particularly conducive to clear thought, no matter how much I want to rant about fanfic versus original fiction. I'll save it for later, I guess. *can't wait for friday*
Aye, "whetting the general appetite." *snork* In my case, this is indulging in general wankery, but that's what this place is for, no? I just realized that I have about seventy thousand works-in-progress, because I never frelling finish anything. These would be the things I'm actively thinking about right now.
So! Non-fannish things:
Stella Matin (working title); standard and urban fantasy with zombies and dystopian societies. Excerpt from the end of the second partita: Bren's Story.
"I can have it finished in a few days," he said in a voiceless whisper. He knew enough about healing to know that his voice was never going to work properly again; his mother would be disappointed. "If nothing else, you can sell it. Radrezhaean crafts are worth a lot beyond the borders."
If Theron had even heard him, he gave no indication. He was too busy tracing the woven outline of flames and eyes. A pair of dragons sprawled across the surface, jaws locked around each other's throats; faces looked out from beneath the shadows of their wings.
"Why did you make this?"
There were a thousand different answers to that question; it was because Theron was leaving, and Bren had seen it, and because Rhapsody had haunted him since the night of the Festival. Bren settled on shrugging and giving Theron a half smile. His own face peered out from the tapestry, eyes accusing.
There were other faces; Shanreth and Mih, a woman with blind eyes, a man with no eyes at all.
--
Fannish things (all Naruto):
Blindsided (because I don't post enough bits of this as it is!); alternate timeline AU, Narutuo, Sasuke, and Gaara-centric, yaoi. Excerpt from chapter 4, damn its eyes.
"Ch'. Put your frickin' teeth away, I just wanna talk."
"And I just want to bite your spiky little head off and devour your soul, but we can't always get what we want, can we?" The demon's eyes glowed like hot coals, but they did nothing to illuminate the darkness of the cage. All Naruto could see were those two lamp-like eyes, and the teeth.
"Somebody's in a bad mood today. What's the matter, fleas?"
--
What Remains; alternate timeline AU, Kakashi and Obito-centric, mostly gen but with bits of boylove, because sex always makes Kakashi angst. Excerpt from a few (read: a dozen) scenes in the future; Kakashi is 18, Obito is 19.
Kakashi usually stopped by his place after missions; Obito wasn't sure why, since they saw enough of each other every day when Kakashi wasn't on assignment. He got used to his friend showing up on his doorstep at odd hours, sometimes grinning with one eye, sometimes half dead from exhaustion and bleeding.
So it didn't come as a surprise when he heard the door open at two in the morning; he wasn't a ninja anymore, but he kept in condition as best he could, and he knew Kakashi was due back. His friend had a spare key, but Obito met him at the door anyway.
"You look like shit," he said bluntly. "How badly are you bleeding?"
Kakashi's Anbu mask hung by its strings from lax fingers; his cloth facemask was stained with blood. "Internally or externally?"
"Your sense of humor still needs work. C'mon, lean on me." They hobbled into the bathroom, where Obito helped Kakashi out of his clthoes. He hissed in sympathy at the bands of bruises that wrapped around Kakashi's chest and abdomen. "What happened?"
"Anbu stuff. Classified." Kakashi leaned against the countertop and let Obito clean him off and bandage him up. His expression was neutral, but his hands were shaking ever so slightly with the effort required to keep up the facade.
---
Wind, Sand, and Bone; sandcestuous introspective-y whatsit. Excerpt from Temari's part. (Why. Can't. I. Finish. This. Fucking. Thing.)
Kankurou stares pointedly at the marks on her neck and slams doors hard enough to rattle the windows.
(Later, she apologizes to him without words, because he is her brother and she knows he will forgive her no matter what. He places his hands on her hips, lining his fingers up with the marks left by other men. His hands fit well over her skin, even if they never match the bruises- but afterwards, he cannot meet her eyes, and sometimes her apologies cut deeper than her transgressions.)
She is beyond feeling shame. She imagines her mother's shocked disapproval, her father's disgust, and wonders what freedom feels like.
----
I'm currently at the point where I don't really enjoy writing anything; I never really enjoyed writing Stella Matin, and I still don't. I don't actually like most of my original stories, because I'm always too aware of the shortcomings of the plot and characters as a result of my own obsession with setting. It's frustrating. As for the fanfic, I'm just feeling blocked because of stress and the lack of inspiration from my source material; the latest manga chapters have been craptastic.
*gnaws on things* I'm running on nervous energy because of my paper right now; it's not particularly conducive to clear thought, no matter how much I want to rant about fanfic versus original fiction. I'll save it for later, I guess. *can't wait for friday*
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Reading- I do occasionally expand my horizons to include things other than pirated manga and fanfic. Occasionally.
After finally returning my other library books (nearly a four dollar fine, I suck), I picked up a few more; volumes 5 and 6 of Petshop of Horrors, Conrad's Fate, Villa Incognito, and The Iron Council. That's two ambiguously gay manga, one Diana Wynne Jones, one Tom Robbins, and one China Mieville. I think I've outdone myself in terms of a random crossection this time.
Petshop of Horrors is spazzy ambiguous fun with small children, animals, and cops, and has yet to disappoint me. It's pretty, too, and I'm hella shallow. :) I'm so happy the library carries it.
Now, Diana Wynne Jones is my favorite children's book author, even more so than Bruce Coville or Zilpha Keatly Snyder (though I still really, really, really want to finish the Below the Root trilogy), despite the fact that I never read very much of her when I was a child. I did, however, read my first Chrestomanci book in third grade, and Charmed Life is still one of my favorite books. I adore the Chrestomanci series (bizarrely anachronistic British children's fantasy with alternate universes!); when I found out she'd written a new one, I was rather excited.
Chewed through it in an afternoon; have decided I want to bear Christopher Chant's obnoxious little forgetful magical babies. Have also decided that I want someone to write Christopher/Conrad/Millie fic, and that I am a horrible person for wanting this. (I'd settle for Christopher and Conrad fooling around while Millie is away at boarding school, even. Or Conrad and Millie having a "Why isn't Christopher in on this too?" "Because he's a prat," make-out session, or Christopher wondering why Conrad hasn't got a girlfriend and Millie thwapping him with a newspaper for being clueless.) I still think Charmed Life is my favorite in the series, but Conrad's Fate probably ties with The Lives of Christopher Chant for second place because of my aforementioned love of Mr Chant.
By the by- This Person has a few Chrestomanci fics, most of them crossovery and delicious.
I've started Villa Incognito; I have to stop every few pages to make incoherent noises at the book. (You know the ones- "Aaaaaaaaahh. AaaaaAAaaahhh.") This isn't because the book is so amazingly funny or shocking (even if it is); it's because I'm a rabid Naruto fan, and at the moment two of the primary characters are Tanuki and Kitsune, and I am a shameless dork. No, seriously. Shameless.
The only other Tom Robbins book I've read is Jitterbug Perfume; I keep telling myself I need to reread it again, but I haven't recently. Whenever I do, I feel an insatiable urge for beets and honey and jasmine tea (but not the three together, necessarily). It's an awesome book, utterly absurd, and the reason I will occasionally tell people to stop putting Descartes before the horse. (Sex! Lies! Two thousand year old perfume bottles! Dinosaur brains! More sex! Immortality! Root vegetables!)
I haven't started Iron Council yet, but China Mieville, pwns j00 and your puny soul. Fear the wrath of his steampunk. Perdido Street Station ate my brain (turned it into rotting lemony goo and slurped it right up) and briefly had weird anthro investigative journalist characters filling up the free space in my skull, but I've since recovered. Iron Council doesn't look quite as intimidating as Perdido Street; I'm hoping for a better ending from it, as well. A deus ex, no matter how cool its alias, is still just a deus ex. On the other hand, just about everything else about the book was amazing (the giant rhyming omnipotent spider in particular), so I'm looking forward to another adventure in New Crobuzon. Mieville may occasionally play fast and loose with his plots (only occasionally), but his world building is fucking amazing- if gritty and disgusting industrial revolution sort of things are your thing.
Yay, books.
Petshop of Horrors is spazzy ambiguous fun with small children, animals, and cops, and has yet to disappoint me. It's pretty, too, and I'm hella shallow. :) I'm so happy the library carries it.
Now, Diana Wynne Jones is my favorite children's book author, even more so than Bruce Coville or Zilpha Keatly Snyder (though I still really, really, really want to finish the Below the Root trilogy), despite the fact that I never read very much of her when I was a child. I did, however, read my first Chrestomanci book in third grade, and Charmed Life is still one of my favorite books. I adore the Chrestomanci series (bizarrely anachronistic British children's fantasy with alternate universes!); when I found out she'd written a new one, I was rather excited.
Chewed through it in an afternoon; have decided I want to bear Christopher Chant's obnoxious little forgetful magical babies. Have also decided that I want someone to write Christopher/Conrad/Millie fic, and that I am a horrible person for wanting this. (I'd settle for Christopher and Conrad fooling around while Millie is away at boarding school, even. Or Conrad and Millie having a "Why isn't Christopher in on this too?" "Because he's a prat," make-out session, or Christopher wondering why Conrad hasn't got a girlfriend and Millie thwapping him with a newspaper for being clueless.) I still think Charmed Life is my favorite in the series, but Conrad's Fate probably ties with The Lives of Christopher Chant for second place because of my aforementioned love of Mr Chant.
By the by- This Person has a few Chrestomanci fics, most of them crossovery and delicious.
I've started Villa Incognito; I have to stop every few pages to make incoherent noises at the book. (You know the ones- "Aaaaaaaaahh. AaaaaAAaaahhh.") This isn't because the book is so amazingly funny or shocking (even if it is); it's because I'm a rabid Naruto fan, and at the moment two of the primary characters are Tanuki and Kitsune, and I am a shameless dork. No, seriously. Shameless.
The only other Tom Robbins book I've read is Jitterbug Perfume; I keep telling myself I need to reread it again, but I haven't recently. Whenever I do, I feel an insatiable urge for beets and honey and jasmine tea (but not the three together, necessarily). It's an awesome book, utterly absurd, and the reason I will occasionally tell people to stop putting Descartes before the horse. (Sex! Lies! Two thousand year old perfume bottles! Dinosaur brains! More sex! Immortality! Root vegetables!)
I haven't started Iron Council yet, but China Mieville, pwns j00 and your puny soul. Fear the wrath of his steampunk. Perdido Street Station ate my brain (turned it into rotting lemony goo and slurped it right up) and briefly had weird anthro investigative journalist characters filling up the free space in my skull, but I've since recovered. Iron Council doesn't look quite as intimidating as Perdido Street; I'm hoping for a better ending from it, as well. A deus ex, no matter how cool its alias, is still just a deus ex. On the other hand, just about everything else about the book was amazing (the giant rhyming omnipotent spider in particular), so I'm looking forward to another adventure in New Crobuzon. Mieville may occasionally play fast and loose with his plots (only occasionally), but his world building is fucking amazing- if gritty and disgusting industrial revolution sort of things are your thing.
Yay, books.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Blindsided wabble
*facepalm* So, Blindsided kind of has a few crack pairings in it, because they make a strange sort of sense in my head. Kabuto/Itachi, for instance, even though I'm not (not) using the zombie baby plotline, and Kankurou/Hinata...which could potentially be Kankurou/Neji, but that would just make me cry. A lot. Nevermind. Then there's Anko/Kakashi, but because I suck at pacing, that may not even appear, and it serves no purpose beyond wigging Kakashi the fuck out and mostly just involves Anko getting drunk and molesting the man.
Crack pairings you will not see in Blindsided: Kisame/Iruka. I'm stating this mostly for my benefit, because (aaauuughstopgetitioutofmyhead) occasionally I feel the urge to be a very stupid fangirl. (Dolphin! Shark! Twu wuv! *FATALITY*)
I'm in a very silly mood at the moment, I apologize. I've been a little bit unstable and overly stressed out lately- fortunately, when I'm stressed out over work, I usually end up directing all of my nervous energy into creative things; chapter four is almost done, and I think I may have the next scene for What Remains finished soon, as well, and I've got ideas for fanarty things.
Anyway, I give you a bit of crack that may or may not show up later in the story. Haven't decided yet.
-----
Naruto wiped at his bloody face with a wet cloth, and glared at Kankurou's reflection in the mirror.
Kankurou's brow furrowed in concern. "What were you doing with him?"
"Wasn't doing anything, we just started bleeding!" Naruto threw the cloth down in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose. His shirt was a mess; he was lucky he hadn't been wearing his jacket, or it would be ruined.
"Uzumaki." Most of the time Naruto just thought Kankurou's facepaint looked stupid, but when he scowled like it transformed his face into something intimidating. "Gaara doesn't get nosebleeds. What were you doing?"
Naruto flushed bright red and mumbled something under his breath. He picked up the rag and began scrubbing ineffectually at his shirt.
"What was that?"
"I said, we were making out! Okay? Now leave me alone!"
Kankurou's eyebrow twitched. He took a deep breath and nodded once, stiffly. "Excuse me a minute." He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
A moment later, the sound of uproarious laughter reached Naruto's ears. "I can still hear you, asshole!" he shouted. Then he cursed violently; his nose had started bleeding again.
Crack pairings you will not see in Blindsided: Kisame/Iruka. I'm stating this mostly for my benefit, because (aaauuughstopgetitioutofmyhead) occasionally I feel the urge to be a very stupid fangirl. (Dolphin! Shark! Twu wuv! *FATALITY*)
I'm in a very silly mood at the moment, I apologize. I've been a little bit unstable and overly stressed out lately- fortunately, when I'm stressed out over work, I usually end up directing all of my nervous energy into creative things; chapter four is almost done, and I think I may have the next scene for What Remains finished soon, as well, and I've got ideas for fanarty things.
Anyway, I give you a bit of crack that may or may not show up later in the story. Haven't decided yet.
-----
Naruto wiped at his bloody face with a wet cloth, and glared at Kankurou's reflection in the mirror.
Kankurou's brow furrowed in concern. "What were you doing with him?"
"Wasn't doing anything, we just started bleeding!" Naruto threw the cloth down in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose. His shirt was a mess; he was lucky he hadn't been wearing his jacket, or it would be ruined.
"Uzumaki." Most of the time Naruto just thought Kankurou's facepaint looked stupid, but when he scowled like it transformed his face into something intimidating. "Gaara doesn't get nosebleeds. What were you doing?"
Naruto flushed bright red and mumbled something under his breath. He picked up the rag and began scrubbing ineffectually at his shirt.
"What was that?"
"I said, we were making out! Okay? Now leave me alone!"
Kankurou's eyebrow twitched. He took a deep breath and nodded once, stiffly. "Excuse me a minute." He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
A moment later, the sound of uproarious laughter reached Naruto's ears. "I can still hear you, asshole!" he shouted. Then he cursed violently; his nose had started bleeding again.
Monday, July 18, 2005
a series of loosely connected thoughts
Okay, so when I said I was getting the hang of the html thing, I totally lied, and I'm very sorry to all the people not using IE. I only pretend to know what I'm doing.
And, on second thought (she says, after reading spoilers everywhere), maybe I do need to read the sixth Harry Potter book. ...god, I am so shallow. XD
In other somewhat-shallow news, Wild Arms: Alter Code F looks to be a combination of incredbly fugly and incredibly lovely. The screenshot of Emma's office is amazing, but all the shots of the primary three characters make me very sad. Cecilia has shoulderpads, and the intro animation is still the most hideous thing since The Crystal Sword. If anyone else even knows what I'm talking about when I mention that game, then oh, god, I am sorry for you.
Other completely random and unrelated thoughts...both A&E and TLC are premiering tattoo shows this week. On different days, even, so I can watch both of them. This is awesome. I love tattoos- they're like skin graffiti, and I love graffiti. I would have one now if I weren't an indecisive coward. :) The obvious choice would be an Om between my shoulder blades; I've always loved the concept of the sound from which all other sounds began. Unfortunately, the symbol itself has gotten to be somewhat ubiquitous, and I like being original. So my other choices would be words or music: a few bars from Concert in D minor around my ankle, or my favorite passage from A Cloud in Trousers in the original Russian. Maybe the word for "silence" in Sanskrit, since kanji is both overdone and less aesthetically pleasing. Words make powerful art.
...actually, I'm also totally enough of a geek to get a small Rood Inverse, though the full sized one would be seventy nine million kinds of awesome. The other obvious tattoo choices would involve dragons or phoenixes (or both), since those have always been my mythological creatures of choice. (Cowardly and indecisive!)
Most of my favorite characters end up with tattoos; Jubal has a thunder bird on his shoulder, courtesy of a bunch of Aztecs who thought he was a god, and Dei has a crucifix on the back of his left calf. Lyra has a Celtic knot on her hip, because she used to be a hemp wearing hippie, but no one else in Boffo has any inkings. The Celestials make their own markings, and a lot of them are fond of body art when taking human form.
Silverlock has maybe a square foot of uninked skin, total. His back is covered with a cross section of the Rothcar skyline; the undercity catacombs are inked across his buttocks and the backs of his thighs, which occasionally leads him to make all sorts of bad jokes about the Assassin's Guild being his seat of operations. Most of his other tattoos have arcane significance, but a few of them (the really obscene ones on the bottoms of his feet, and the flowers on his calf) are purely sentimental. All of the other non-half elven assassins have small identifying marks somewhere on their bodies. (Foxbird has a stylized red fox head, Lucky has a pair of crossed swords, Blaine has a sleeping cat.)
When Theron was in Rothcar, Silver tattooed several runes of power down his spine, and he has Crafter markings on his forearms, hands, and the back of his neck. (Magicrafters used tattoos on their hands and arms as visual foci, but they aren't necessary or even particularly helpful to most crafters. They're more of a fashion statement than anything else; the trend went out of style years before Theron was born, but Shanonil flaunted hers and insisted her son wear them.) Mih doesn't have any, but Brenon has Weaver marks on his arms. Mordant has a flaming skull on his right bicep, and some people suspect that if you were to remove all of Solneki's clothes, you'd just find another black suit and stupid tie painted over his skin. (You wouldn't. You would, however, find several crudely drawn smiley faces and some stick figures engaged in lewd acts, courtesy of Mordant and his handy magic marker. Mordant always has more bruises than Solneki has stupid doodles, though.)
And, on second thought (she says, after reading spoilers everywhere), maybe I do need to read the sixth Harry Potter book. ...god, I am so shallow. XD
In other somewhat-shallow news, Wild Arms: Alter Code F looks to be a combination of incredbly fugly and incredibly lovely. The screenshot of Emma's office is amazing, but all the shots of the primary three characters make me very sad. Cecilia has shoulderpads, and the intro animation is still the most hideous thing since The Crystal Sword. If anyone else even knows what I'm talking about when I mention that game, then oh, god, I am sorry for you.
Other completely random and unrelated thoughts...both A&E and TLC are premiering tattoo shows this week. On different days, even, so I can watch both of them. This is awesome. I love tattoos- they're like skin graffiti, and I love graffiti. I would have one now if I weren't an indecisive coward. :) The obvious choice would be an Om between my shoulder blades; I've always loved the concept of the sound from which all other sounds began. Unfortunately, the symbol itself has gotten to be somewhat ubiquitous, and I like being original. So my other choices would be words or music: a few bars from Concert in D minor around my ankle, or my favorite passage from A Cloud in Trousers in the original Russian. Maybe the word for "silence" in Sanskrit, since kanji is both overdone and less aesthetically pleasing. Words make powerful art.
...actually, I'm also totally enough of a geek to get a small Rood Inverse, though the full sized one would be seventy nine million kinds of awesome. The other obvious tattoo choices would involve dragons or phoenixes (or both), since those have always been my mythological creatures of choice. (Cowardly and indecisive!)
Most of my favorite characters end up with tattoos; Jubal has a thunder bird on his shoulder, courtesy of a bunch of Aztecs who thought he was a god, and Dei has a crucifix on the back of his left calf. Lyra has a Celtic knot on her hip, because she used to be a hemp wearing hippie, but no one else in Boffo has any inkings. The Celestials make their own markings, and a lot of them are fond of body art when taking human form.
Silverlock has maybe a square foot of uninked skin, total. His back is covered with a cross section of the Rothcar skyline; the undercity catacombs are inked across his buttocks and the backs of his thighs, which occasionally leads him to make all sorts of bad jokes about the Assassin's Guild being his seat of operations. Most of his other tattoos have arcane significance, but a few of them (the really obscene ones on the bottoms of his feet, and the flowers on his calf) are purely sentimental. All of the other non-half elven assassins have small identifying marks somewhere on their bodies. (Foxbird has a stylized red fox head, Lucky has a pair of crossed swords, Blaine has a sleeping cat.)
When Theron was in Rothcar, Silver tattooed several runes of power down his spine, and he has Crafter markings on his forearms, hands, and the back of his neck. (Magicrafters used tattoos on their hands and arms as visual foci, but they aren't necessary or even particularly helpful to most crafters. They're more of a fashion statement than anything else; the trend went out of style years before Theron was born, but Shanonil flaunted hers and insisted her son wear them.) Mih doesn't have any, but Brenon has Weaver marks on his arms. Mordant has a flaming skull on his right bicep, and some people suspect that if you were to remove all of Solneki's clothes, you'd just find another black suit and stupid tie painted over his skin. (You wouldn't. You would, however, find several crudely drawn smiley faces and some stick figures engaged in lewd acts, courtesy of Mordant and his handy magic marker. Mordant always has more bruises than Solneki has stupid doodles, though.)
Sunday, July 17, 2005
pwnorship
So, I started reading Bleach today; got up to chapter 100 and got frustrated with the difficulty of downloading the scans. ...I love shounen manga. It's just so shiny.
I'm not as rabidly fangirly about it as I am about Naruto, but it is kind of fun. Mostly I'm in a state of bliss over the character designs and the clothing- I'm completely inlust love lust with Urahara's hat and Ichigo's random Engrish t-shirts. (I want Speaking is NOT.)
I like the characters, even if there are too many of them; Rukia does nothing for me, but Ichigo and his family are hilarious. Ishida and his sewing skills are wonderful; Chad's excessive niceness and his awesome hair also make me happy. Orihime and all of the femmeslash that surrounds her caused me to make lots of incoherent noises at my computer, as did Kon.
I'm still sort of reeling from all of the new characters that are being introduced in the Soul Society arc; I have decided that I adore Renji's eyebrows and the entire 11th Division, but otherwise I have no opinions on the other Shinigami. (Okay, Gin creeps me out, but I think he's supposed to.)
It's aaaall about the 11th Division, though. They're just so bloody cute. I just wish it weren't so bloody difficult to find scanlations. *le sigh* But yes, love for Bleach; it's a shame there's very little fic for it, particularly since most of what is there is Ichigo/Rukia. All I want is Renji silliness or 11th Division shennanigans, or possibly Chad and Ishida being nice to each other...perhaps I will drabble, once I've finished reading the scans.
And, in completely unrelated news, the jerk who posted the Harry Potter thing on chuunin? *facepalm* Asshat. On the one hand, now I seriously don't have to read the book (yaye), but on the other- oh, asshattery. To improve everyone's mood, I give you a completely non-spoilery link: Dumbledore's death, by William Carlos Williams. There's a TS Eliot one on the site that makes me very happy, as well. *wanders off to read all the spoilery posts on friends list*
I'm not as rabidly fangirly about it as I am about Naruto, but it is kind of fun. Mostly I'm in a state of bliss over the character designs and the clothing- I'm completely in
I like the characters, even if there are too many of them; Rukia does nothing for me, but Ichigo and his family are hilarious. Ishida and his sewing skills are wonderful; Chad's excessive niceness and his awesome hair also make me happy. Orihime and all of the femmeslash that surrounds her caused me to make lots of incoherent noises at my computer, as did Kon.
I'm still sort of reeling from all of the new characters that are being introduced in the Soul Society arc; I have decided that I adore Renji's eyebrows and the entire 11th Division, but otherwise I have no opinions on the other Shinigami. (Okay, Gin creeps me out, but I think he's supposed to.)
It's aaaall about the 11th Division, though. They're just so bloody cute. I just wish it weren't so bloody difficult to find scanlations. *le sigh* But yes, love for Bleach; it's a shame there's very little fic for it, particularly since most of what is there is Ichigo/Rukia. All I want is Renji silliness or 11th Division shennanigans, or possibly Chad and Ishida being nice to each other...perhaps I will drabble, once I've finished reading the scans.
And, in completely unrelated news, the jerk who posted the Harry Potter thing on chuunin? *facepalm* Asshat. On the one hand, now I seriously don't have to read the book (yaye), but on the other- oh, asshattery. To improve everyone's mood, I give you a completely non-spoilery link: Dumbledore's death, by William Carlos Williams. There's a TS Eliot one on the site that makes me very happy, as well. *wanders off to read all the spoilery posts on friends list*
Saturday, July 16, 2005
thoughts (are screaming)
Occasionally I'll get a name stuck in my head and, if the conditions are right (keep in a dark, warm, slightly damp place and cover with paper towels) it'll grow into a character.
Evidently my head has been particularly dark and damp lately.
Sabatieni and Cabiria Valentine are sisters; they look enough alike to be twins, but Sabatieni is older by a few years. I've had Sav in my head for a while, though she doesn't talk much- now that her sister is here, she's a little bit more sociable, but Cabiria has always been the more outgoing of the two of them.
Don't know much about them; they're names and faces and hints of personalities- tall and slender with long dark hair, pale skin, hawkbeak noses and narrow mouths, with slightly scornful, superior smirks. Their primary colors are black, white, and red. They're travellers and a thousand possible other things. Right now I think they're leaning toward arsonists and poets of an unconventional style.
Dove Lancaster looks about sixteen but probably isn't; he's got a gangly, unfinished look to him, and his hair is always in his eyes. His primary color is gray, hence his name; his eyes are blue-gray, his hair is a colorless sort of brown, and his clothes are all faded. He's a traveller like the Valentine sisters; they met up on the road years ago and have kept in touch. (They drive an ancient Cadillac that Cabiria keeps in condition; Dove goes through vehicles like I go through sunglasses, and was last seen driving a Vespa.)
No world and no story; there's another woman named Maeve involved, but I know even less about her. The Valentine sisters want to invade the Boffo universe and stir up trouble (they insist on being called the Infamous Valentine Sisters) but I'm not sure how Dove fits into that. Dunno what I'll do with them; doubt I'll actually write anything for them, but y'never know. Maybe I'll attempt some artings, since I'm fond of their designs.
Meh. Downswings always kill my creativity; I disgustingly unproductive. (Oh, right, because I am.)
Evidently my head has been particularly dark and damp lately.
Sabatieni and Cabiria Valentine are sisters; they look enough alike to be twins, but Sabatieni is older by a few years. I've had Sav in my head for a while, though she doesn't talk much- now that her sister is here, she's a little bit more sociable, but Cabiria has always been the more outgoing of the two of them.
Don't know much about them; they're names and faces and hints of personalities- tall and slender with long dark hair, pale skin, hawkbeak noses and narrow mouths, with slightly scornful, superior smirks. Their primary colors are black, white, and red. They're travellers and a thousand possible other things. Right now I think they're leaning toward arsonists and poets of an unconventional style.
Dove Lancaster looks about sixteen but probably isn't; he's got a gangly, unfinished look to him, and his hair is always in his eyes. His primary color is gray, hence his name; his eyes are blue-gray, his hair is a colorless sort of brown, and his clothes are all faded. He's a traveller like the Valentine sisters; they met up on the road years ago and have kept in touch. (They drive an ancient Cadillac that Cabiria keeps in condition; Dove goes through vehicles like I go through sunglasses, and was last seen driving a Vespa.)
No world and no story; there's another woman named Maeve involved, but I know even less about her. The Valentine sisters want to invade the Boffo universe and stir up trouble (they insist on being called the Infamous Valentine Sisters) but I'm not sure how Dove fits into that. Dunno what I'll do with them; doubt I'll actually write anything for them, but y'never know. Maybe I'll attempt some artings, since I'm fond of their designs.
Meh. Downswings always kill my creativity; I disgustingly unproductive. (Oh, right, because I am.)
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Heaven let your light shine down.
Recs! For no reason whatsoever, save that it's late, I ought to be asleep, and I'm not thinking about my paper or the mountain of housework I need to do.
Naruto
Revolutions by blue arcane- SasuNaru (or NaruSasu; it's not clear yet), yet another one of those "Sasuke gets dragged back to Konoha by Naruto and discovers twu wuv" sort of stories. It's fluff and angst all the way, but the grammar is good and the writing is solid, which are always the first things I look for when poking around ff.net, and the plot is moving slowly, which is nice because it means there's actual emotional buildup and character development. Both Naruto and Sasuke are a little on the sappy, wibbly side, but not so much so that they induce eye-sporkage. It's a cute story, and I heart the fluff.
Celestial Bodies by Caspian- Sakura-centric introspective on Ino, Sasuke, and Naruto. Lovely insights and writing; I highly reccommend the rest of this author's Naruto fics (she's got Weiss fic, too, but I haven't read it yet; I imagine it's also quite good), especially the Team 10 ones.
Not Found in Stone by phoenix of eternity- Kakashi, Yondaime, and Sakumocentric, which should tell you right off why I'm reccing it (such a slut for baby!Kakashi angst, I'm so sad sometimes). A look at what makes a hero and that wonderful mainstay of fiction, death. Another general author rec here; more excellent fic all over the place, but I most especially liked Anniversaries, because Sasuke angst is almost as delicious as Kakashi angst.
Choices by ninjacat ally- SasuNaru, mostly just smut. But it's well written, well characterized smut, and there's something very chilling and right about it.
Outclassed by winter of our discontent- I'm pretty sure I haven't recced this before; if not, here it is again. Kakairu; Kakashi may be Konoha's resident genius, but when it comes to Iruka, he's rather hopelessly outclassed. This fic is hilarious, and there is a wonderful lack of fanon!Iruka. Shiny.
Lessons by Elizabeth Culmer- Iruka-centric and sort of a side-story to Way of the Apartment Manager (AU; with original characters, one of the best what if!crack!AUs out there (what if!crack!AU being my favorite genre, of course), and a fic everyone ought to read because it's lovely); ninja politics and ninja ethics make me squee endlessly, as does nonfanon!Iruka. "Lessons" has all of these things, as Iruka discovers that he wants to teach.
Painted Scars by Fairady- Kankurou drabble, recovering from the fight with Sasori. Examines the lines on his face, and a little bit of his relationship with Temari. *hearts the Kankurou*
Family by MonsterBrat- crack!AU, my favorite genre- what if Sasuke's parents died on a mission when he was three, and he was raised by Itachi, who didn't go crazy, just went slightly strange? It's a series of character pieces focusing mostly on everyone else's reactions to Itachi. Some of them are a little strange and the grammar is occasionally off, but I like the idea (of course I do) and the characterizations are well thought out.
Butterfly Knot by Kimi no Vanilla- Sandcest (yes, I really have given myself over to the dark side), and an almost-companion piece to Chevira Lowe's Tempest (loveliest opening paragraphs ever). Kankurou gives his sister away- Kankurou/Temari, Temari/Shikamaru. Heartbreaking and delicious, the way sandcest ought to be.
And now, the stuff that isn't Naruto.
FMA
Must Like Cats by girl starfish- So. Cute. *ded* Vaguely Roy/Ed, but only vaguely. Ed and Al go searching for a girlfriend; wacky hijinx ensue. Also I love Hughes beyond words. *cry*
I so suck at reccing. "Durr. Fic make V go yaye." *flails and fails*
There were others, but I can't find them right now. *is horribly disorganized* Been wasting my creativity on drawing vaguely sandcestuous pictures (it's all about the facepaint, yo) because I can't quite bring myself to write anything. Hopefully I'll actually finish the bloody things, since I haven't finished any real art in a while.
Speaking of writing- my kingdom for a botanist! Anyone? Buehler? No? Crap.
Naruto
Revolutions by blue arcane- SasuNaru (or NaruSasu; it's not clear yet), yet another one of those "Sasuke gets dragged back to Konoha by Naruto and discovers twu wuv" sort of stories. It's fluff and angst all the way, but the grammar is good and the writing is solid, which are always the first things I look for when poking around ff.net, and the plot is moving slowly, which is nice because it means there's actual emotional buildup and character development. Both Naruto and Sasuke are a little on the sappy, wibbly side, but not so much so that they induce eye-sporkage. It's a cute story, and I heart the fluff.
Celestial Bodies by Caspian- Sakura-centric introspective on Ino, Sasuke, and Naruto. Lovely insights and writing; I highly reccommend the rest of this author's Naruto fics (she's got Weiss fic, too, but I haven't read it yet; I imagine it's also quite good), especially the Team 10 ones.
Not Found in Stone by phoenix of eternity- Kakashi, Yondaime, and Sakumocentric, which should tell you right off why I'm reccing it (such a slut for baby!Kakashi angst, I'm so sad sometimes). A look at what makes a hero and that wonderful mainstay of fiction, death. Another general author rec here; more excellent fic all over the place, but I most especially liked Anniversaries, because Sasuke angst is almost as delicious as Kakashi angst.
Choices by ninjacat ally- SasuNaru, mostly just smut. But it's well written, well characterized smut, and there's something very chilling and right about it.
Outclassed by winter of our discontent- I'm pretty sure I haven't recced this before; if not, here it is again. Kakairu; Kakashi may be Konoha's resident genius, but when it comes to Iruka, he's rather hopelessly outclassed. This fic is hilarious, and there is a wonderful lack of fanon!Iruka. Shiny.
Lessons by Elizabeth Culmer- Iruka-centric and sort of a side-story to Way of the Apartment Manager (AU; with original characters, one of the best what if!crack!AUs out there (what if!crack!AU being my favorite genre, of course), and a fic everyone ought to read because it's lovely); ninja politics and ninja ethics make me squee endlessly, as does nonfanon!Iruka. "Lessons" has all of these things, as Iruka discovers that he wants to teach.
Painted Scars by Fairady- Kankurou drabble, recovering from the fight with Sasori. Examines the lines on his face, and a little bit of his relationship with Temari. *hearts the Kankurou*
Family by MonsterBrat- crack!AU, my favorite genre- what if Sasuke's parents died on a mission when he was three, and he was raised by Itachi, who didn't go crazy, just went slightly strange? It's a series of character pieces focusing mostly on everyone else's reactions to Itachi. Some of them are a little strange and the grammar is occasionally off, but I like the idea (of course I do) and the characterizations are well thought out.
Butterfly Knot by Kimi no Vanilla- Sandcest (yes, I really have given myself over to the dark side), and an almost-companion piece to Chevira Lowe's Tempest (loveliest opening paragraphs ever). Kankurou gives his sister away- Kankurou/Temari, Temari/Shikamaru. Heartbreaking and delicious, the way sandcest ought to be.
And now, the stuff that isn't Naruto.
FMA
Must Like Cats by girl starfish- So. Cute. *ded* Vaguely Roy/Ed, but only vaguely. Ed and Al go searching for a girlfriend; wacky hijinx ensue. Also I love Hughes beyond words. *cry*
I so suck at reccing. "Durr. Fic make V go yaye." *flails and fails*
There were others, but I can't find them right now. *is horribly disorganized* Been wasting my creativity on drawing vaguely sandcestuous pictures (it's all about the facepaint, yo) because I can't quite bring myself to write anything. Hopefully I'll actually finish the bloody things, since I haven't finished any real art in a while.
Speaking of writing- my kingdom for a botanist! Anyone? Buehler? No? Crap.
Monday, July 11, 2005
testing, wot wot?
New layout- I am teh win! ...only not really since all I do is take pre-existing layouts and shift them around. But still. I like this one, and I think I'm getting somewhat more comfortable with using css; the original layout used tables, and this one uses div tags and styles. And gradients! I know how to do gradients now, and all those stupid little link style things. Go on, hover over a link. It's shiny! Hee.
It is sad that I must resort to coding as a creative outlet; I want to write but I can't, and this frustrates me beyond words- which is probably half of the problem. *sigh* Feh.
It is sad that I must resort to coding as a creative outlet; I want to write but I can't, and this frustrates me beyond words- which is probably half of the problem. *sigh* Feh.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Stella Matin- wanking like I've never wanked before.
(babbling! babbling everywhere, like babies! zombie babies!)
Mm, Launchcast just played the Ryan Adams version of "Wonderwall." w00t, yo. It's learning. Now it just needs to play some Jason Mraz, and it'll be perfect. I've already got it playing Duncan Sheik...
I'm at the point in Stella Matin (Maeroris, whatever) where I could just skip five or so years into the future, or I could take the time to actually write out what Theron does when he leaves Radrezhaea and wanders around Rothcar.
Since most of it is just him meeting Silver and being taught arcane magic and getting weirded out by the Shrive, there isn't much point to writing it- but I adore Silver, and I may write it anyway. The seals keeping back Shanon's memories probably disintegrate while he's living with Silver, so that's potentially interesting and plot-worthy; by 'interesting and plot-worthy,' I actually just mean 'full of angst.'
Once he returns to Radrezhaea, he runs into Brenon in the Capital, in the middle of Festival season. He does stupid things that get him noticed and then Blacklisted; when Brenon and Mihonil try to help him, they get Blacklisted, too. And then the three of them are deemed to dangerous to let live, so they're all tortured and then thrown into a box; Theron chews off his fingers (not all of them, just a few), kills Bren and Mih, and creates Muse and Walker.
Then he raises an army of Corpses and takes over the city. He kills his father and starts slaughtering all of the Magicrafters; not much happens for the next few decades while Theron subjugates the entire country, expanding his army of mindless zombies. Once the killing dies down, he spends a few years getting more in touch with his powers, and figures out how to create Ghosts.
Theron can create three basic kinds of undead- Corpses, Revenants, and Ghosts. A Corpse is a soulless doll, a sort of very well preserved zombie. Only Blacklisted Magicrafters become Corpses when they die; the technique was developed by Drazhene after the Second Cataclysm to better control magic users and to increase the power well of the Voyancy. (A Magicrafter's power is absorbed by the Voyance when he or she becomes a Corpse, thus making every successive Voyance stronger than the last.) Corpses can be destroyed by fire or dismembered, and they don't require sustenance, though feeding them does prevent decay.
A Revenant is a Corpse with the ability to contain a consciousness, which is actually different from a soul, but not in any ways that are at all important. Most of the citizens of Radrezhaea in Stella's part of the story are Revenants; Stella herself is a Revenant. Anyone can become a Revenant if they're willing to pay for it, but Revenants have no memory of who they were before death. Their existence is also much more fragile than that of a Corpse; they require frequent sustenance to keep from disintegrating. Any sort of raw meat will do, though human flesh is the most "nutritious." Very poor Warm families will often sell unwanted children to feeding farms, since wealthy Revenants will pay quite well for babies- older humans usually just get ground up for hamburgers. The life span of a well fed Revenant is a few hundred years, though most are not well fed, and some decay completely after about fifty.
Ghosts are the incorporeal consciousnesses of the very wealthy, as only the very wealthy can afford to be made into Ghosts. This usually only applies to Revenants, since most of the Warm are incredibly poor. However, those few Warm who can afford to become Ghosts can choose to retain their memories; most don't, as being alive in Radrezhaea is a largely unpleasant experience.
Ghosts inhabit corporeal bodies, but when they grow tired of a body, or when the body they inhabit starts to decay excessively, they transfer to a new one. Warm families can also sell unwanted children to body farms for Ghosts to choose as new hosts. Being posessed kills the original inhabitant of the body and effectively turns the body into a Revenant, albeit a very hungry Revenant. Ghost bodies decay even faster than normal Revenants, but host bodies are cheap and plentiful. Body farms breed live humans specifically for the purpose of serving as hosts, but a Warm One doesn't have to live on a body farm to be vulnerable to Ghost possession. The living have very few rights in Radrezhaea; in fact, the only right they really have is the right to not be eaten before being sold to a feeding farm.
Walker and Muse are a whole category unto themselves; Theron gave them both a piece of his soul when he created them. This was monumentally stupid of him, but you've got to give the guy a break; he was a little bit preoccupied with being really fucking crazy at the time.
Stuff happens during Stella's story, though I'm not entirely sure what; possibly, when Stella became a Revenant, Muse screwed up with her memories, or Theron accidentaly gave her a piece of his soul. Either way, she becomes a seer and becomes the figurehead of a resistance movement of sorts. She finds Razhia and convinces her to help them fix things. This part of the story takes place in my stupid generic fantasy world's equivalent of the eighties or late seventies; Radrezhaea is technologically behind the rest of the world, but they've still got some fairly nasty weapons. Rothcar has nukes and an itchy trigger finger, particularly since Radrezhaea's hordes of hungry zombies have been sitting on its doorstep for several decades.
Anyway, more stuff happens, and Theron, Walker, and Mih regain their memories and their souls. Bren threatens to never speak to Theron again if he doesn't clean up the mess he made (Because dude, zombies? Not cool.) and Theron does, by breaking the power well of the Voyancy. (This relates back to the stupid, nonsensical history of the country, but the very first Voyance used the much smaller power well of his time to ascend to godhood; even though Theron has been drawing on it constantly for a few centuries, he's barely managed to scratch the surface of it. Fuck, the damn thing could be sentient for all I know; I don't really have this part plotted at all.) Releasing all of that power pretty much disintegrates every living thing except the people standing right next to Theron at the time, including Razhia, who sacrifices her own power base to keep the blast from spilling over into the neighboring countries. (Stupid gods. They screw up all of my storylines.)
Bren's kind of pissed at Theron, but he has to admit that everything is kind of squeaky clean. There's probably a few more deus ex moments to wrap everything up, and then we enter the Aftermath part, which is apparently the only part I'm even remotely interested in writing. *facepalm*
When Theron gives up the Voyancy and initiates the Fourth Cataclysm, he loses his abilities as an Unraveler. He regains his powers as an arcanist, though, so while he can't create Revenants anymore, he can animate dead bodies the way a normal Necromancer would. He doesn't, though; he's kind of leery of dead things at the end of everything.
He keeps all of his scars from before his ascension to the Voyancy, which means he only has seven fingers (missing the right pinky all the way down to the third knuckle and the left ring and middle fingers to the second knuckle) and he still has a Blackmark on his chest- it's an ugly burn scar, but the runes are completely illegible.
...Feh. Now if only I could be as productive when it came to actually writing things, instead of just writing about them...*sigh*
Mm, Launchcast just played the Ryan Adams version of "Wonderwall." w00t, yo. It's learning. Now it just needs to play some Jason Mraz, and it'll be perfect. I've already got it playing Duncan Sheik...
I'm at the point in Stella Matin (Maeroris, whatever) where I could just skip five or so years into the future, or I could take the time to actually write out what Theron does when he leaves Radrezhaea and wanders around Rothcar.
Since most of it is just him meeting Silver and being taught arcane magic and getting weirded out by the Shrive, there isn't much point to writing it- but I adore Silver, and I may write it anyway. The seals keeping back Shanon's memories probably disintegrate while he's living with Silver, so that's potentially interesting and plot-worthy; by 'interesting and plot-worthy,' I actually just mean 'full of angst.'
Once he returns to Radrezhaea, he runs into Brenon in the Capital, in the middle of Festival season. He does stupid things that get him noticed and then Blacklisted; when Brenon and Mihonil try to help him, they get Blacklisted, too. And then the three of them are deemed to dangerous to let live, so they're all tortured and then thrown into a box; Theron chews off his fingers (not all of them, just a few), kills Bren and Mih, and creates Muse and Walker.
Then he raises an army of Corpses and takes over the city. He kills his father and starts slaughtering all of the Magicrafters; not much happens for the next few decades while Theron subjugates the entire country, expanding his army of mindless zombies. Once the killing dies down, he spends a few years getting more in touch with his powers, and figures out how to create Ghosts.
Theron can create three basic kinds of undead- Corpses, Revenants, and Ghosts. A Corpse is a soulless doll, a sort of very well preserved zombie. Only Blacklisted Magicrafters become Corpses when they die; the technique was developed by Drazhene after the Second Cataclysm to better control magic users and to increase the power well of the Voyancy. (A Magicrafter's power is absorbed by the Voyance when he or she becomes a Corpse, thus making every successive Voyance stronger than the last.) Corpses can be destroyed by fire or dismembered, and they don't require sustenance, though feeding them does prevent decay.
A Revenant is a Corpse with the ability to contain a consciousness, which is actually different from a soul, but not in any ways that are at all important. Most of the citizens of Radrezhaea in Stella's part of the story are Revenants; Stella herself is a Revenant. Anyone can become a Revenant if they're willing to pay for it, but Revenants have no memory of who they were before death. Their existence is also much more fragile than that of a Corpse; they require frequent sustenance to keep from disintegrating. Any sort of raw meat will do, though human flesh is the most "nutritious." Very poor Warm families will often sell unwanted children to feeding farms, since wealthy Revenants will pay quite well for babies- older humans usually just get ground up for hamburgers. The life span of a well fed Revenant is a few hundred years, though most are not well fed, and some decay completely after about fifty.
Ghosts are the incorporeal consciousnesses of the very wealthy, as only the very wealthy can afford to be made into Ghosts. This usually only applies to Revenants, since most of the Warm are incredibly poor. However, those few Warm who can afford to become Ghosts can choose to retain their memories; most don't, as being alive in Radrezhaea is a largely unpleasant experience.
Ghosts inhabit corporeal bodies, but when they grow tired of a body, or when the body they inhabit starts to decay excessively, they transfer to a new one. Warm families can also sell unwanted children to body farms for Ghosts to choose as new hosts. Being posessed kills the original inhabitant of the body and effectively turns the body into a Revenant, albeit a very hungry Revenant. Ghost bodies decay even faster than normal Revenants, but host bodies are cheap and plentiful. Body farms breed live humans specifically for the purpose of serving as hosts, but a Warm One doesn't have to live on a body farm to be vulnerable to Ghost possession. The living have very few rights in Radrezhaea; in fact, the only right they really have is the right to not be eaten before being sold to a feeding farm.
Walker and Muse are a whole category unto themselves; Theron gave them both a piece of his soul when he created them. This was monumentally stupid of him, but you've got to give the guy a break; he was a little bit preoccupied with being really fucking crazy at the time.
Stuff happens during Stella's story, though I'm not entirely sure what; possibly, when Stella became a Revenant, Muse screwed up with her memories, or Theron accidentaly gave her a piece of his soul. Either way, she becomes a seer and becomes the figurehead of a resistance movement of sorts. She finds Razhia and convinces her to help them fix things. This part of the story takes place in my stupid generic fantasy world's equivalent of the eighties or late seventies; Radrezhaea is technologically behind the rest of the world, but they've still got some fairly nasty weapons. Rothcar has nukes and an itchy trigger finger, particularly since Radrezhaea's hordes of hungry zombies have been sitting on its doorstep for several decades.
Anyway, more stuff happens, and Theron, Walker, and Mih regain their memories and their souls. Bren threatens to never speak to Theron again if he doesn't clean up the mess he made (Because dude, zombies? Not cool.) and Theron does, by breaking the power well of the Voyancy. (This relates back to the stupid, nonsensical history of the country, but the very first Voyance used the much smaller power well of his time to ascend to godhood; even though Theron has been drawing on it constantly for a few centuries, he's barely managed to scratch the surface of it. Fuck, the damn thing could be sentient for all I know; I don't really have this part plotted at all.) Releasing all of that power pretty much disintegrates every living thing except the people standing right next to Theron at the time, including Razhia, who sacrifices her own power base to keep the blast from spilling over into the neighboring countries. (Stupid gods. They screw up all of my storylines.)
Bren's kind of pissed at Theron, but he has to admit that everything is kind of squeaky clean. There's probably a few more deus ex moments to wrap everything up, and then we enter the Aftermath part, which is apparently the only part I'm even remotely interested in writing. *facepalm*
When Theron gives up the Voyancy and initiates the Fourth Cataclysm, he loses his abilities as an Unraveler. He regains his powers as an arcanist, though, so while he can't create Revenants anymore, he can animate dead bodies the way a normal Necromancer would. He doesn't, though; he's kind of leery of dead things at the end of everything.
He keeps all of his scars from before his ascension to the Voyancy, which means he only has seven fingers (missing the right pinky all the way down to the third knuckle and the left ring and middle fingers to the second knuckle) and he still has a Blackmark on his chest- it's an ugly burn scar, but the runes are completely illegible.
...Feh. Now if only I could be as productive when it came to actually writing things, instead of just writing about them...*sigh*
Thursday, July 07, 2005
blah blah Naruto filler WHAT OBSESSED, ME? NEVER.
So, apparently in the filler episodes of Naruto, they are bringing back Mizuki.
What the fizzle? Augh. This is the problem with obsessing over an ongoing series- I don't know how people who watch normal tv and fan at it manage. (Every week, Blindsided gets a little bit more AU. It's sort of like California, and the slow, inexorable slide towards Seattle.) I mean, okay, so it's cool that we get to find out what actually happened to Mizuki, but I seriously wanted the bastard to be dead. Not just gone and disappeared from the storyline, but something more along the lines of an ex-parrot, if you know what I mean.
I just like the idea of Naruto being a little bit more like a monster than people (fans) think- and he did wail on the man with about a thousand clones. But it would make more sense if he were dead, anyway; he tried to steal the forbidden scrolls, he broke the law about talking about the kyuubi, he nearly killed Iruka and tried to kill Naruto- you can't tell me a frickin' ninja village doesn't have a death penalty. Someone that treacherous who betrayed not just his comrades but his whole village is just too much of a risk to leave alive- as the latest filler demonstrates.
Not that I'm actually watching it, since I don't follow the anime beyond what they post on chuunin. But still. *whines*
On the other hand, the manga? (Damn you, Kishimoto! You're not supposed to validate my stupid fannon theories about puppets!) SASORI WHY ARE YOU SO AWESOMELY EVIL. WHY. I WANT TO KNOW. (I kind of liked him better when he wasn't twelve, but that just makes him creepier- and creepy = awesome.) Somebody needs to write Sasori crack!fic with puppet smut. Bonus points if either Gaara or Kankurou are somehow involved (because Kankurou makes everything better. *glares at unfinished fic*) (And oh, sweet chrisy, the opportunities for a whole new breed of sandcest- *explodes*) (Hey, the puppets are kind of like zombies...*death by parentheticals!*)
I'm totally making myself a GAARA LIVES t-shirt for Otakon. Because yes, I am that much of a geek. (I'll just work on it inbetween the tadpole plushie, the random Jiraiya accessories, the frelling pimp-coat, and oh, right, my fucking paper. *stabs self until dead from it*)
Also (non sequitur, here I come!) the phrase "Stop flogging the dead Obito" makes me spew pepsi all over my monitor- and I don't even drink pepsi.
What the fizzle? Augh. This is the problem with obsessing over an ongoing series- I don't know how people who watch normal tv and fan at it manage. (Every week, Blindsided gets a little bit more AU. It's sort of like California, and the slow, inexorable slide towards Seattle.) I mean, okay, so it's cool that we get to find out what actually happened to Mizuki, but I seriously wanted the bastard to be dead. Not just gone and disappeared from the storyline, but something more along the lines of an ex-parrot, if you know what I mean.
I just like the idea of Naruto being a little bit more like a monster than people (fans) think- and he did wail on the man with about a thousand clones. But it would make more sense if he were dead, anyway; he tried to steal the forbidden scrolls, he broke the law about talking about the kyuubi, he nearly killed Iruka and tried to kill Naruto- you can't tell me a frickin' ninja village doesn't have a death penalty. Someone that treacherous who betrayed not just his comrades but his whole village is just too much of a risk to leave alive- as the latest filler demonstrates.
Not that I'm actually watching it, since I don't follow the anime beyond what they post on chuunin. But still. *whines*
On the other hand, the manga? (Damn you, Kishimoto! You're not supposed to validate my stupid fannon theories about puppets!) SASORI WHY ARE YOU SO AWESOMELY EVIL. WHY. I WANT TO KNOW. (I kind of liked him better when he wasn't twelve, but that just makes him creepier- and creepy = awesome.) Somebody needs to write Sasori crack!fic with puppet smut. Bonus points if either Gaara or Kankurou are somehow involved (because Kankurou makes everything better. *glares at unfinished fic*) (And oh, sweet chrisy, the opportunities for a whole new breed of sandcest- *explodes*) (Hey, the puppets are kind of like zombies...*death by parentheticals!*)
I'm totally making myself a GAARA LIVES t-shirt for Otakon. Because yes, I am that much of a geek. (I'll just work on it inbetween the tadpole plushie, the random Jiraiya accessories, the frelling pimp-coat, and oh, right, my fucking paper. *stabs self until dead from it*)
Also (non sequitur, here I come!) the phrase "Stop flogging the dead Obito" makes me spew pepsi all over my monitor- and I don't even drink pepsi.
Half Elves, Rothcar and Radrezhaea
(In which I wank at length about my original fantasy setting. I've done a post on half-elves before, but they've evolved a little. Sort of. (Not really.))
It is, in far too many ways, a generic fantasy world; it was heavily inspired by all of those second edition D&D books we have lying around the house, and all that Tolkien Light (aka Dennis L. McKiernan) I read years ago. So you have your whole gamut of otherworldly races- the wise and all-powerful dragons, the equally-wise-but-slightly-more-hippy-like elves, the all-too-mortal humans, and a plethora of other humanoid and monstrous peoples.
And then there are the half-elves, my slightly feral race of bondage fetishists. *sigh*
Humans and elves don't get along all that well, but they're still crossfertile and bastard children are born all the time. At one point, they were just left to die of exposure, but then someone realized they were wasting valuable resources by just killing the children. Instead, they were raised as cheap and effective slave labor. Half-elves live much longer than humans and remain at their peak of health for much longer; they're physically stronger than elves; they're intelligent; and they're pretty.
Eventually (after a lot of rebellions and uprisings and dead people and meddling Little Gods), it was decided that complete enslavement of an entire race (such as it was) of people wasn't all that kosher, and slaves are more useful when they're happy. So the half-elves were all freed, and a compromise was reached: all half-elf children would be kept as slaves until they reached complete maturity (at the age of seventyfive or so), and then they would be freed to live as they pleased.
Enslaved half-elves wear shackles around their wrists and ankles, and their clothing has their owner's marks on it. They aren't allowed material posessions; the only thing a half-elf owns is his skin and his name- but that ownership is total and complete.
Body mods aren't just a fashion statement; they're a way of life. Most half-elves acquire full body tattoos by the time their indenture is up; fewer than twelve facial piercings are rare. It's common practice for a slave owner to lend jewelry to favored slaves, and gift them with it when their indenture ends.
Half-elves are inherently magical, and this manifests in their having very tough skins; a certain amount of magical ritual is required for tattoos or scars to 'set' properly, otherwise they fade within a few years. Most half-elves have some small amount of arcane talent, so they can perform the necessary rituals on their own. But the tattooing process has a quasi-religious significance, since it's the only sort of identifying cultural tradition they have. If there is more than one half-elf in a household (and in wealthy households, there are usually quite a few), some sort of celebration will usually accompany new tattoos or piercings.
The first tattoo a half-elf ever receives is an identification marking on the back of his neck; this mark is immediately covered, usually by a collar of some sort. It's a serious taboo to show anyone but closest family (and 'family' is a very loose term, given that very few half-elves will ever even know their parents' names) and clan members. Revealing untoward amounts of skin is taboo in general, but baring one's arms in public will, at most, get you a few stares. The name-mark is a very private thing; a half-elf cannot legally be ordered to bare his neck. Enough of the Thousand Little Gods have taken an interest in the half-elves' welfare to ensure that those who mistreat their slaves will bedealt with accordingly.
Freed half-elves can choose to leave the city entirely and seek out other half-elven communities; these communities are dependent upon freed slaves choosing to isolate themselves from mainstream society. Just like mules and other halfbreed animals, half-elves are sterile (brothels account for nearly sixty percent of half-elf ownership). Most freed slaves do leave to live with their own kind for a while, but many return to the cities to enjoy their freedom.
I'm overly fond of my stupid generic fantasy world, and I love me my little quasi-race of bondage and body mod fetishists. Someday, maybe, I'll rework the history of the world, since I came up with most of it when I was thirteen and it's all rather half-assed. (My trademark, really.)
Silverlock D'Alestri (the psychoslut half-elven pain mage assassin of Foxbird) shows up in Stella Matin; he's Theron's teacher when Theron books it out of Radrezhaea after nearly being eaten by a dragon. I think he's probably still alive by the end of Stella Matin (half-elves live between three and five centuries, and because of Silver's...habits, he's a little more long-lived than most), which gives me all sorts of opportunities to traumatize Theron further.
And the half-elves in general fascinate Bren, since Bren is hardwired to obsess over colorful, shiny things- so if I keep writing post-Fourth-Cataclysm Stella Matin snippets, they'll show up eventually. (I do love Bren, but Theron's right- he's an idiot. If you set him on fire, he'd be too busy admiring all the pretty colors to put himself out.)
It is, in far too many ways, a generic fantasy world; it was heavily inspired by all of those second edition D&D books we have lying around the house, and all that Tolkien Light (aka Dennis L. McKiernan) I read years ago. So you have your whole gamut of otherworldly races- the wise and all-powerful dragons, the equally-wise-but-slightly-more-hippy-like elves, the all-too-mortal humans, and a plethora of other humanoid and monstrous peoples.
And then there are the half-elves, my slightly feral race of bondage fetishists. *sigh*
Humans and elves don't get along all that well, but they're still crossfertile and bastard children are born all the time. At one point, they were just left to die of exposure, but then someone realized they were wasting valuable resources by just killing the children. Instead, they were raised as cheap and effective slave labor. Half-elves live much longer than humans and remain at their peak of health for much longer; they're physically stronger than elves; they're intelligent; and they're pretty.
Eventually (after a lot of rebellions and uprisings and dead people and meddling Little Gods), it was decided that complete enslavement of an entire race (such as it was) of people wasn't all that kosher, and slaves are more useful when they're happy. So the half-elves were all freed, and a compromise was reached: all half-elf children would be kept as slaves until they reached complete maturity (at the age of seventyfive or so), and then they would be freed to live as they pleased.
Enslaved half-elves wear shackles around their wrists and ankles, and their clothing has their owner's marks on it. They aren't allowed material posessions; the only thing a half-elf owns is his skin and his name- but that ownership is total and complete.
Body mods aren't just a fashion statement; they're a way of life. Most half-elves acquire full body tattoos by the time their indenture is up; fewer than twelve facial piercings are rare. It's common practice for a slave owner to lend jewelry to favored slaves, and gift them with it when their indenture ends.
Half-elves are inherently magical, and this manifests in their having very tough skins; a certain amount of magical ritual is required for tattoos or scars to 'set' properly, otherwise they fade within a few years. Most half-elves have some small amount of arcane talent, so they can perform the necessary rituals on their own. But the tattooing process has a quasi-religious significance, since it's the only sort of identifying cultural tradition they have. If there is more than one half-elf in a household (and in wealthy households, there are usually quite a few), some sort of celebration will usually accompany new tattoos or piercings.
The first tattoo a half-elf ever receives is an identification marking on the back of his neck; this mark is immediately covered, usually by a collar of some sort. It's a serious taboo to show anyone but closest family (and 'family' is a very loose term, given that very few half-elves will ever even know their parents' names) and clan members. Revealing untoward amounts of skin is taboo in general, but baring one's arms in public will, at most, get you a few stares. The name-mark is a very private thing; a half-elf cannot legally be ordered to bare his neck. Enough of the Thousand Little Gods have taken an interest in the half-elves' welfare to ensure that those who mistreat their slaves will bedealt with accordingly.
Freed half-elves can choose to leave the city entirely and seek out other half-elven communities; these communities are dependent upon freed slaves choosing to isolate themselves from mainstream society. Just like mules and other halfbreed animals, half-elves are sterile (brothels account for nearly sixty percent of half-elf ownership). Most freed slaves do leave to live with their own kind for a while, but many return to the cities to enjoy their freedom.
I'm overly fond of my stupid generic fantasy world, and I love me my little quasi-race of bondage and body mod fetishists. Someday, maybe, I'll rework the history of the world, since I came up with most of it when I was thirteen and it's all rather half-assed. (My trademark, really.)
Silverlock D'Alestri (the psychoslut half-elven pain mage assassin of Foxbird) shows up in Stella Matin; he's Theron's teacher when Theron books it out of Radrezhaea after nearly being eaten by a dragon. I think he's probably still alive by the end of Stella Matin (half-elves live between three and five centuries, and because of Silver's...habits, he's a little more long-lived than most), which gives me all sorts of opportunities to traumatize Theron further.
And the half-elves in general fascinate Bren, since Bren is hardwired to obsess over colorful, shiny things- so if I keep writing post-Fourth-Cataclysm Stella Matin snippets, they'll show up eventually. (I do love Bren, but Theron's right- he's an idiot. If you set him on fire, he'd be too busy admiring all the pretty colors to put himself out.)
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
If you was any more Italian, you'd be a cannoli.
Sammy's grin threatened to launch itself off his face and attack small, tired children with its irresistable exuberance. He gestured expansively to the atrium of the casino and took a deep breath. "Smell that, Clyde? That's the smell of moral tuhpitude."
Clyde sniffed the air experimentally, and sneezed. Sammy clapped him on the back, still grinning. "Not used to it, eh? That's what you get for living on a farm."
He rubbed his nose, irritated. "Fishing village. And I grew up in Chicago."
"Yeah, I know. Your accent makes my eahs hurt."
They walked past an elaborate flower arrangement in the center of the lobby, eliciting another sneeze from Clyde. "Sammy, what letter does 'ear' end with?"
The albino man blinked at his friend. "Eah? It ends in an ah. Why?"
Clyde shook his head. "Just checking." Sammy had already moved on to examine the flowers with startling intensity.
"Lookit this, Clyde. Orchids. I always thought there was somethin' dirty about orchids."
Clyde rolled his eyes. "Sure you did, Georgia O'Keefe. Come on. Your moral turpitude is giving me a headache."
----
Yeah, okay, so I actually wrote that bit last summer, but it still amuses me because damn, am I ever easily amused. It's part of that crazy AU FFVI roadtrip-Las-Vegas-crack!pairing fic.
So, meet Sammy "The Ghost" Gabbiani and Clyde Arrowny. He's an albino black sheep from the mafia, and he's an ex-con with a mysterious past. They fight crime! ...okay, no they don't, they gamble a lot and bicker at each other. And then Daryl shows up, because my favorite number is three (no it isn't, it's sixteen, but close enough, right?) and wacky hijinx ensue. Huzzah!
...Right, I'm going to bed.
Clyde sniffed the air experimentally, and sneezed. Sammy clapped him on the back, still grinning. "Not used to it, eh? That's what you get for living on a farm."
He rubbed his nose, irritated. "Fishing village. And I grew up in Chicago."
"Yeah, I know. Your accent makes my eahs hurt."
They walked past an elaborate flower arrangement in the center of the lobby, eliciting another sneeze from Clyde. "Sammy, what letter does 'ear' end with?"
The albino man blinked at his friend. "Eah? It ends in an ah. Why?"
Clyde shook his head. "Just checking." Sammy had already moved on to examine the flowers with startling intensity.
"Lookit this, Clyde. Orchids. I always thought there was somethin' dirty about orchids."
Clyde rolled his eyes. "Sure you did, Georgia O'Keefe. Come on. Your moral turpitude is giving me a headache."
----
Yeah, okay, so I actually wrote that bit last summer, but it still amuses me because damn, am I ever easily amused. It's part of that crazy AU FFVI roadtrip-Las-Vegas-crack!pairing fic.
So, meet Sammy "The Ghost" Gabbiani and Clyde Arrowny. He's an albino black sheep from the mafia, and he's an ex-con with a mysterious past. They fight crime! ...okay, no they don't, they gamble a lot and bicker at each other. And then Daryl shows up, because my favorite number is three (no it isn't, it's sixteen, but close enough, right?) and wacky hijinx ensue. Huzzah!
...Right, I'm going to bed.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
random things- it's late and I'm tired!
So, I went to the Cloisters over the weekend, and there's nothing like looking at bits and pieces of monasteries to make the Dreamscape people start muttering.
The nuns of the secular religion thing (I need to not come up with completely half assed ideas someday. I mean, these things are like quarter-asses or eighths of ass. Kind of sad, really) are actually more powerful than the Emperor. They developed hyperdimensional corridor technology (HDC tech) and distribute it free of charge to anyone with a place to use it. Rumor has it that they're closely related to the Rats because they also distribute very effective security programs to the general populace.
The nuns are most famous for their Cloisters, despite all of their free technology. The Cloisters are places of sanctuary, open to anyone seeking a meal and a safe place to sleep, no matter who they are or what they've done. Those seeking sanctuary are given a ten foot by ten foot room and a bed; if groups of people seek sanctuary together, they're all expected to fit into a single ten foot by ten foot room, with as many beds squeezed into it as necessary. So long as the door to that room is closed, nothing else can enter; the Emperor himself couldn't order a Cloister to open its doors. (Quinn and Leo seek shelter in a Cloister after they flop in Lynna Falls; they quickly discover that it's impossible to brawl in the two foot by ten foot space between the beds. After they bunked the beds, they beat the crap out of each other.)
The Cloisters have a curious effect on the flow of time; the longer you spend Cloistered, the less time passes for you in the Cloister. It's a good way to live forever, but you would die of boredom eventually.
The nuns aren't actually affiliated with anything and, despite the incredible influence they could weild, they don't do anything to influence anyone. In fact, they're closer to being hermits than nuns; they do all their business with the outside world through computers, and no one has ever actually seen one of them.
They'd be important if I had a plot, but I don't, so they're just parts of the setting. *sigh* Oh well. Fly away, logic! Be free!
---
"You're sure you took down all the security?" Sasuke recalibrated his glasses before putting them back on, and the world sprang into sharp, red-hued focus. A tiny line of numbers blinked from the corner of the lenses.
"Yes, I'm sure. I'm not some fucking amateur." Naruto was horrible at controlling his body language; every angle of him screamed barely contained frustration.
"Then you're sure there's no one else in the building but us?"
"Yes."
"Quiet, both of you." Kakashi was leading the way through the hallways; he raised a claw to halt them and his head swivelled so he could glare at them while still watching the hallway ahead of them. Suddenly, his whole posture changed, snapping into something low slung and dangerous. "Unidentified entity alert."
Several things happened all at once.
Kakashi flickered forward, too fast to follow and a service panel opened in the wall, spilling a pair of men into the hallway. Sasuke drew both of his swords, Naruto extended his claws, Kakashi bristled with attachments that were probably capable of destroying city blocks, and the taller of the two men began shouting, and all of them were moving into fighting stances.
"Initialize directive thirty seven six twenty five oh bee ell oh ell!"
Kakashi froze, and his eyes went dim. Sasuke glared at the man who'd shouted and leaned ever so slightly forward. The edges of his swords rested against the man's neck; an assault rifle pressed under Sasuke's ribs. The other man had Naruto at the end of a broadsword. There was a soft click, and the walls caught fire.
Took him long enough, Sasuke thought sourly. What was the point of having a Rat on his team if said Rat was useless for anything but clawing people's eyes out? Sasuke could rip out eyes just fine on his own, damnit.
"Okay. I've heard this one before. A Rat, a Tax Collector, and a clockwork monstrosity walk into a highly fortified mafia office. The Taxi walks up to the bartender and says..."
Sasuke's eyebrow twitched and pressed his swords a little closer to the man's throat. "Shut up or I bathe in your blood."
"Ooh, kinky. I like that in a girl." The man had an obnoxious grin. It reminded Sasuke of Naruto, unsurprisingly enough. They were both blond and annoying.
"Um, guys?" Neither of them turned to look at Naruto. "No, for serious. I'm really bad a trapping. It was one of those things I never quite got the hang of, because, see, I have no control." The walls inched a little closer, and the flames turned greenish around the edges. "And in every one of my tests, my subjects' heads exploded. We lost so many topsiders that way. So, uh, don't move?"
The blond paled a little, but the assault rifle didn't move. "Okay. Why don't we start over, then?"
"Fine. Undo whatever you did to the monstrosity and we'll talk. Who are you and what are you doing here?" Sasuke's glasses began running numbers across the bottom of his field of vision. The words "no match" flashed across his eyes. Damn. Who the hell are these guys?
"Yeah, right. When I put that thing back on line, he'll rip my head off and eat it. They call them monstrosities for a reason. Tell His Majesty over there to untrap us, and we'll talk."
"His majesty?" Sasuke tilted his head just enough to glare at Naruto. "Foxface?"
Naruto swallowed audibly. "Hey, on second thought, why don't I blow up their heads anyway?"
The man with the broadsword sighed. "Quinn, you owe me a dollar."
The three of them glanced at him out of the corners of their eyes. He frowned. "What? Every time our lives get threatened in some ridiculous and excessive manner and it's entirely his fault, I get a dollar or free waffles. When it's my fault, he gets one. He already owes me a lifetime supply of waffles. I want cash now."
---
I make no excuses or apologies even though I know that made no. sense. whatsoever. ("Trapping" is what the more elite Rats do; it's sort of like genjutsu, if you want to think in Naruto terms- illusion stuff, hence the walls catching fire. The Rat hacks your brain, but if you're Naruto, you really shouldn't be screwing around with people's brains, because finesse really isn't his strong point.)
I couldn't not have them run into Quinn and Leo. I mean, it was their universe first, it's only fair. (And I love Quinn and Leo. They're both enormous dorks, and everything really is all Quinn's fault.)
The nuns of the secular religion thing (I need to not come up with completely half assed ideas someday. I mean, these things are like quarter-asses or eighths of ass. Kind of sad, really) are actually more powerful than the Emperor. They developed hyperdimensional corridor technology (HDC tech) and distribute it free of charge to anyone with a place to use it. Rumor has it that they're closely related to the Rats because they also distribute very effective security programs to the general populace.
The nuns are most famous for their Cloisters, despite all of their free technology. The Cloisters are places of sanctuary, open to anyone seeking a meal and a safe place to sleep, no matter who they are or what they've done. Those seeking sanctuary are given a ten foot by ten foot room and a bed; if groups of people seek sanctuary together, they're all expected to fit into a single ten foot by ten foot room, with as many beds squeezed into it as necessary. So long as the door to that room is closed, nothing else can enter; the Emperor himself couldn't order a Cloister to open its doors. (Quinn and Leo seek shelter in a Cloister after they flop in Lynna Falls; they quickly discover that it's impossible to brawl in the two foot by ten foot space between the beds. After they bunked the beds, they beat the crap out of each other.)
The Cloisters have a curious effect on the flow of time; the longer you spend Cloistered, the less time passes for you in the Cloister. It's a good way to live forever, but you would die of boredom eventually.
The nuns aren't actually affiliated with anything and, despite the incredible influence they could weild, they don't do anything to influence anyone. In fact, they're closer to being hermits than nuns; they do all their business with the outside world through computers, and no one has ever actually seen one of them.
They'd be important if I had a plot, but I don't, so they're just parts of the setting. *sigh* Oh well. Fly away, logic! Be free!
---
"You're sure you took down all the security?" Sasuke recalibrated his glasses before putting them back on, and the world sprang into sharp, red-hued focus. A tiny line of numbers blinked from the corner of the lenses.
"Yes, I'm sure. I'm not some fucking amateur." Naruto was horrible at controlling his body language; every angle of him screamed barely contained frustration.
"Then you're sure there's no one else in the building but us?"
"Yes."
"Quiet, both of you." Kakashi was leading the way through the hallways; he raised a claw to halt them and his head swivelled so he could glare at them while still watching the hallway ahead of them. Suddenly, his whole posture changed, snapping into something low slung and dangerous. "Unidentified entity alert."
Several things happened all at once.
Kakashi flickered forward, too fast to follow and a service panel opened in the wall, spilling a pair of men into the hallway. Sasuke drew both of his swords, Naruto extended his claws, Kakashi bristled with attachments that were probably capable of destroying city blocks, and the taller of the two men began shouting, and all of them were moving into fighting stances.
"Initialize directive thirty seven six twenty five oh bee ell oh ell!"
Kakashi froze, and his eyes went dim. Sasuke glared at the man who'd shouted and leaned ever so slightly forward. The edges of his swords rested against the man's neck; an assault rifle pressed under Sasuke's ribs. The other man had Naruto at the end of a broadsword. There was a soft click, and the walls caught fire.
Took him long enough, Sasuke thought sourly. What was the point of having a Rat on his team if said Rat was useless for anything but clawing people's eyes out? Sasuke could rip out eyes just fine on his own, damnit.
"Okay. I've heard this one before. A Rat, a Tax Collector, and a clockwork monstrosity walk into a highly fortified mafia office. The Taxi walks up to the bartender and says..."
Sasuke's eyebrow twitched and pressed his swords a little closer to the man's throat. "Shut up or I bathe in your blood."
"Ooh, kinky. I like that in a girl." The man had an obnoxious grin. It reminded Sasuke of Naruto, unsurprisingly enough. They were both blond and annoying.
"Um, guys?" Neither of them turned to look at Naruto. "No, for serious. I'm really bad a trapping. It was one of those things I never quite got the hang of, because, see, I have no control." The walls inched a little closer, and the flames turned greenish around the edges. "And in every one of my tests, my subjects' heads exploded. We lost so many topsiders that way. So, uh, don't move?"
The blond paled a little, but the assault rifle didn't move. "Okay. Why don't we start over, then?"
"Fine. Undo whatever you did to the monstrosity and we'll talk. Who are you and what are you doing here?" Sasuke's glasses began running numbers across the bottom of his field of vision. The words "no match" flashed across his eyes. Damn. Who the hell are these guys?
"Yeah, right. When I put that thing back on line, he'll rip my head off and eat it. They call them monstrosities for a reason. Tell His Majesty over there to untrap us, and we'll talk."
"His majesty?" Sasuke tilted his head just enough to glare at Naruto. "Foxface?"
Naruto swallowed audibly. "Hey, on second thought, why don't I blow up their heads anyway?"
The man with the broadsword sighed. "Quinn, you owe me a dollar."
The three of them glanced at him out of the corners of their eyes. He frowned. "What? Every time our lives get threatened in some ridiculous and excessive manner and it's entirely his fault, I get a dollar or free waffles. When it's my fault, he gets one. He already owes me a lifetime supply of waffles. I want cash now."
---
I make no excuses or apologies even though I know that made no. sense. whatsoever. ("Trapping" is what the more elite Rats do; it's sort of like genjutsu, if you want to think in Naruto terms- illusion stuff, hence the walls catching fire. The Rat hacks your brain, but if you're Naruto, you really shouldn't be screwing around with people's brains, because finesse really isn't his strong point.)
I couldn't not have them run into Quinn and Leo. I mean, it was their universe first, it's only fair. (And I love Quinn and Leo. They're both enormous dorks, and everything really is all Quinn's fault.)
Monday, July 04, 2005
Naruto fragment
"What makes you so fucking special?" He lunged forward, a kunai in each hand.
Iruka grabbed the kunai aimed at his throat by the blade and made a choked noise in the back of his throat. A thin line of blood seeped out of the corner of his mouth. "It's a little known fact about my mother's family," he said softly, glancing down at the kunai lodged in his ribs, "that we have all been blessed with an unnaturally high tolerance for pain."
He smiled, reversed his bloody grip on the kunai in his hand, and drove the blade into his opponent's shock-widened eye.
-----
I doubt I'm actually going to get to expand that scene...but I do love Iruka. (Don't as who he's fighting. I haven't decided yet.) And if you watch his "fight" with Mizuki, it's really kind of amazing how much damage he takes while still managing to remain standing, let alone conscious. (Yeah, he eventually collapsed, but still. I was impressed.)
I need to rewrite nearly all of BS4, because it sucks, and this makes me sad. So instead I'm going to spam the blog with random, random stuff.
Iruka grabbed the kunai aimed at his throat by the blade and made a choked noise in the back of his throat. A thin line of blood seeped out of the corner of his mouth. "It's a little known fact about my mother's family," he said softly, glancing down at the kunai lodged in his ribs, "that we have all been blessed with an unnaturally high tolerance for pain."
He smiled, reversed his bloody grip on the kunai in his hand, and drove the blade into his opponent's shock-widened eye.
-----
I doubt I'm actually going to get to expand that scene...but I do love Iruka. (Don't as who he's fighting. I haven't decided yet.) And if you watch his "fight" with Mizuki, it's really kind of amazing how much damage he takes while still managing to remain standing, let alone conscious. (Yeah, he eventually collapsed, but still. I was impressed.)
I need to rewrite nearly all of BS4, because it sucks, and this makes me sad. So instead I'm going to spam the blog with random, random stuff.