Look To the North

“INFPs are introspective, private, creative and highly idealistic individuals that have a constant desire to be on a meaningful path. They are driven by their values and seek peace. Empathetic and compassionate, they want to help others and humanity as a whole. INFPs are imaginitive, artistic and often have a talent for language and writing. They can also be described as easygoing, selfless, guarded, adaptable, patient and loyal.”

I’m not quite as introvorted as this would make me out to be… or AM I? At social gatherings I kind of sit along, I don’t have many friends and eh… yeah. I don’t know. Except, I’m energized by people (or distracted by them due to one of my crazy natures: ARRRGH MUST KNOW THIIIIIINNGS… and of course the desire to care… to care, and to knowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww…. TELL ME EVERYTHING… I had someone tell me to go become a phychiatrist. XD)

I totally need a new catagory for Nanowrimo or something. Which, by the way, I finished with 100k, two novels–one with 67k and the other with 33k. My wrists ache. I wrote 16k the last day.

ANYWAY.

My characters, makeup, and I!

Ah, yes, a subject that for some reason got mentally brought up. Which characters wear makeup?! WHO BOTHERS?! I mean, they’ve got villians attemting to kick their rears, or they’re villians attempting to kick the good guy rears… who’s wearing makeup?

So my characters faced the interrogation, and I found the replies most…………….. interesting.

AWARD FOR MOST MAKEUP WORN:
Raiyn Serak. No surprise there. Ah, yes, Raiyn. Raiyn the vampire, Raiyn the whore, Raiyn the singular existing prostitute character that disturbs all my other female characters, Raiyn the positive she can convince humans that vampires aren’t monsters. *sighs* I love her. Her character is so very different from me. Nonetheless, her chosen makeup, as a general rule, in order of importance.

1) Eyeliner. Black, duh.
2) Mascara
3) Dark red lipstick/gloss
4) Concealer
5) Eyeshadow… very likely a green or blue… maybe a redish.
6) Any sort of powder to make her face paler (did I mention she’s also my only female semi-dark skinned character?)
7) Hairgel.
8) Lipliner.
9) Jewlery.
10) Scented stuff.
11) Nailpolish.

That about sums up what she wears. I’m not well versed in makeup… there’s probably more. Seriously, she looks like a different person without all those layers on. o_o

She wears it out of habit.

AWARD FOR LEAST MAKEUP WORN (on a female character)!
Surprisingly, Talnaver Arinon. Yeah, another undefinate TDE character… Talnaver wears no makeup at all, at least to the best of my observations. She finds it a waste of time running back and forth and tends to avoid it, even working undercover. The worst she’s done is hair styling. Generally, she relies on clothing and basic mannerisms to make herself different.

For TDE…
Drum roll…….

Ryian Khess. She uses makeup to disguise minor facial scars and uses a bit of lipgloss occasionally. She used to use it before she became a mercenary, but now finds it a waste of time.

(And just for a record: the male award for most makeup is Nikolas and Varok. Unsurprisingly, both vampires. Lol)

Now, in no specific order, other characters opinions on makeup for those curious!

Tiana:
Before she was Calthye, in the Legacy era, and previous to that, she basically got away with using lipgloss and hair stuff. She was too busy to bother with anything. But in the post Reunion era… I guess it’d be TDE: Fealty era… she does use some. To keep up appearances. She hates eye makeup and uses nothing more than a bit of a brown liner and a hint of mascara when necessary for stage lighting appearances. She’ll use blush and lipgloss as well as a bit of purfume. Gotta appear royal, eh what? Off duty, it depends on whether she keeps to habit or not, but she nixes all the eye makeup.

She has some facial tattoos.

Ariane:
Ariane is actually very good at using makeup, and can completely alter her appearance in about a half hour or so with the right stuff. As she used to work in mostly undercover senarios, she learned how to do incredible things with a bit of makeup. As Calthye, she uses purple eyeshadow, concealer (yes, yes, facial flaws!), and a pale pink lipgloss. She has thick enough eyelashes that she’s always found using eyelash glue (HER TERM! HER TERM, NOT MINE!!) to be pointless. She was always amused by shiny things and will use the stick-on type marks for occasions.

On stage, she uses proper stage makeup… eyes and mouth, mainly, though she refuses to use lipliner even with thin lips, and mostly goes for shinies.

Off complete duty, she still sometimes uses eyeshadow and concealer (hmm… acne?), but is totally freaked out about the very IDEA of having to kiss Elachi while wearing lipgloss, so she generally nixes most of the rest.

Marien:
Depends on her mood. She’s always liked dark eyeliner and mascara, though. The whole gothic look always fit her Shadow self. She goes with more charcoaly tones for makeup, and uses nailpolish on a regular basis. And toenail polish. ^^;;

That covers my female mains, doesn’t it? I can’t think…. zzzzzzzzz……………….. remind me later if I missed some MCs.

Oh, as for the I part of it…

I wear no makeup. But I bought some lipgloss because my lips have been very chapped and am trying to get used to having sticky, candy flavored lips. >< I want to put a bunch on and go kiss someone to see if it works.... hmmmmm.

I feel very sorry for your severe sight problems. If I knew who you were, I would start up a collection immediately to get the money for your parents to afford eyeglasses for you, or even surgery, as evidently your ocular abilities are severely lacking. I shall add you to my prayers in steady hopes that your sight and literary abilities shall begin to improve at once.

Though I do salute you on one thing: you are the very first flamer I have had that has flamed me in proper English, proper grammar, and (gah), you even capitalized I. I love you. Will you marry me (once you’ve gotten glasses)?

<3,
Tiana

(In response to comment on “I wrote this. Bad, eh?” by anonymous)

Thank you for your very INTELLEGENT comments on my “Early attempts to write Elachi” story. I am certain that you are not a machine, as a machine cannot bypass the security of my blog’s put in this snazzy number comments, and at any rate, there was a difference of 8 minutes between your two comments.

What I wonder is what drove you to totally repeat the first half of your review, only editing the bottom halves.

What I also wonder is were you aware of the fact that that was a brief fictional blurb I wrote for the sole sake of my amusement?

And, finally, is English your first language? I have no idea how you found my blog, let alone that post, and guess it must have been through google or something of the like. Aha. I see it was. You, from google.dk, searched Elachi. Damn, and my post came up on page SIX. Sweet!!

Oh, wow, and Elachi’s an Earthling name too, no less. That’s just… weird.

I guess you must have noticed on the second comment you made that I was writing science-fiction, as you cheerfully condemmed me by announcing God doesn’t like science-fiction. Yup. Ariane’s not human. OMG, I’M GOING TO DIE NOW BY GETTING STRUCK BY LIGHTING! ARGH! (sighs) No. Not true. But I’m not going to rant about religion, here and now…

Dane. You’re Danish, then? Denmark. All right, that explains the google.dk…

I’m, uh, glad you love Elachi, but I really do hope that he’s just a fictional character who can’t possibly exist. You know, otherwise I’d be happy to matchmake the two of you. I’ve always thought his character needed a better girlfriend than Ariane, and what better than one who speaks Engrish and thinks some pain can be good (true enough), and that you should smile with anger as a memory. (well, Elachi’s physically unable to smile, I think, but you know.)

I would like to know, though. How can you let the shine on me? I mean, what’s a the? Or is it the fancy space? And, also, what’s a balachner. I REALLY want to know what a balachner is, but google can’t find anything.

I don’t think I want to see your eye, if it can take another shape, but… yeah. Thanks for the comment, I think it made my day… er… please keep in mind that this is a personal blog for random fiction? I’m not Elachi. What you read was a post to make fun of Elachi, mostly. Elachi Kyrie is a fictional character, not Charles Elachi, the doctor person you were PROBABLY searching for. I’m actually a 17 year old Christian Canadian girl by the name of (generally online) Tiana.

But I was happy that you weren’t a random flamer.

<3,
-Tiana

The blather has been brought up more than once… who’s the worst kisser? Ironically, no one ever questions or wonders who’s the BEST character to kiss… simply, who’s the worst. The characters gather here to throw their votes in on who… is the best, and the worst.

(At least, my characters do. And I’m using the more tag, not because it’s dirty (it’s not), but because it’s EMBARRASSING them.)

(more…)

I’ll bet it’s more in character than the first script appearances he had. And, Jandalf, any comfort and you have Ariane closer to her character than I had her in her first appearances as well.

This is a purposeless rambly POVish scene which makes no sense, has no purpose, and is… boring. Snrk. But it introduces Elachi to the wonderful world of my brain.

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Disclaimer: This is not Jandalf’s Elachi Kyrie. Please hold his actions explained by the fact that this is a… fanfiction of a sort. I felt like explaining Ariane through his eyes, and with the character switcheroo… whee.

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There is a strong incongruity in existing; but yet one even stronger in attempting to twist your personality around something so utterly foreign that not even your mind can accept it as existing. There is something alien in accepting a perspective which doesn’t conflict and then hide in terror, instead falling silent.

Yet not silent.

Even in comprehension, it is still alien.

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It is very strange to exist and be feared, and yet be humbled by one thing. Perhaps as Elachi had grown older, this had changed, but nonetheless in his life, there had always seemed to be at least one thing that could humble him. No matter what external appearances said, there was always something to bring someone down. In his case, it was something as simple as a fear of lizards, as tiny as they might have been.

It branched out far beyond that, though.

Perhaps, in a way, he was afraid of his wife.

To him, she was an alien. Not by race. Most certain, she wasn’t a human by birth, race, or rights. That had never mattered, though so often she protested otherwise. She never had quite understood things from his eyes, as if she refused to even try to bend while he tried forcing himself through her square hole in the circle knotted board.

She scared him.

Elachi existed as a six foot seven human with piercing and startlingly blank gray eyes. Well built due to a need to keep himself physically fit, he was strong, tall, and an imposing figurehead in society. People listened to him, gave him sideways glances while walking through the streets. They were _afraid_ of him. On the opposite hand, Ariane was tiny, dark haired and eyed, and barely noticeable when she wasn’t attempting to make a scene. Unable to outwardly control due to a continual line of people taking her ill-seriously, she was a master manipulator of things not noticed.

And she turned that ability against herself. She manipulated to an extreme where he had to fight to restrain the urge to simply bat her away. And yet that desire wasn’t there at all. He _loved_ her, and love didn’t bring about the need to physically harm someone. So why she continually seemed to try force it upon herself, to try strain things, was beyond him.

And there was a theory he could not grasp. Why someone could be forever wounded by an emotional hurt when those left no scars…

“Ironic, isn’t it? Some of us never get to talk.”

He paused, having been unaware that he was even walking at a brisk pace down…

…a long and what appeared to be unending road in the Shadow Realms. An alley, certainly, overhung with tall and rusty buildings and scattered garbage littering the lane. It seemed to stretch on and on; there was no sky with the firm blackness overhead and dim glow of volcanic light. The pressure was overwhelming, something utterly beyond his ordinary stretch.

“Did they pull another switch?”

“What?” He turned; the face that stared up at him was an amber-blue eyed female with vaguely recognizable features. Elachi took a moment to place her. Ryian.

She smiled at him dryly. “Ariane. Are you Ariane?”

“No.”

“Well, of course not, she wouldn’t sound that stuck-up if she tried.”

The moment’s flicker of an insulted expression touched his eyes, but it was only there for the sharp-sighted. She hadn’t been searching for expressions or nuances, and didn’t particularly care. It was a different area, after all. A different person. “As I said. We’ve never talked,” she repeated. “When they did the switch thing, Ariane was you in here for a while, and she’s used your body for amusement’s purposes. But you’re not her, are you?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Amusement?”

“She thinks it’s easier to argue with Tiana in your body.”

“Where is this?”

Ryian blinked. “N2’s head, where else?”

“Ah.”

“Shadow Realms, to be more specific. Yrkia. It seems to be a bit of a random thing to happen, her own amusement where people talk.” Ryian’s eyes narrowed. “Speaking of which, you really don’t belong here. Even if it’s just a setup conversation, and not _really_ inside her head.”

He had given up trying to comprehend a word she was saying. It was a ramble of a sort, different than what Ariane would’ve given him, but as strange as had the woman been speaking Ekaeli-old. There was a long silence, during which Ryian came up with chairs and a table from a nearby wall (again, he didn’t question this, for the sake of his own sanity) and tossed them down to the alley roadway.

“You were complaining that she got emotionally hurt too easily.”

He sat down after a while. “Yes.”

Then there were no thought barriers here? It was different, then. Far different.

“’S easy. Ariane’s Calthye. She hears thoughts, but doesn’t make sense of them. For her, getting physically hurt’s a sort of reminder that she’s real. It leaves scars, sure, but not the same type, you know? When you walk away silently, she feels abandoned.”

He frowned. “Were it that easy, this would hardly be taking place, now would it?”

“No, of course not.” Ryian smiled. “You wouldn’t even be here. My narrator doesn’t take freedom with godmodding in writing. But you know.”

“No. I don’t know.”

“You _are_ annoying. Cheesh. Get used to it, anyway. She’ll develop you pretty well. It’ll be a pain, but good for you.”

At Elachi’s silence, Ryian smiled. “And this is why you fail. You’ll get used to it yet.” She stood up, and vanished. Somehow, he had a feeling that such occurrences were an ordinary occasion in the mind of one drastically different from his previous _writer_. A writer. It disgusted him, their lack of respect.

And how the two narrators tolerated each other, with such differing opinions on silence, perspective, and style, was beyond even him.

Even one who relied on a relationship with someone his utter opposite couldn’t yet understand. Not yet. But he would, if it took a death to prove it.

This is in mockery to the horrible fanfictions I’ve had to read or beta or critique.

a long time ago in a galixy far far away…

BOOM!!!
‘oh no R2 my ships been hit!” luke distressed as the wing of his x-wing was blown off by an intensive force of wind suddenly appeared in outter space. his ship spun wildly and crashed into a nearby planet.
it broke. luke was knoked unconshis and lay on the ground almost dead. r2 had gotten blown up so he couldn’t save luke from being left on thr ground very dead looking.
fortunately a girl came by and shook luke awake.
luke growned. ‘ohhhhhhhhhhhhh my head…’ ’shh’ she said and pattered his head. ‘you’ll be ok’

so she picked luke up and brought him to a nearby settlement, which was actually rivendell from lord of the rings and Elrond took care of luke and made him better, but luke’s arm got torn off and he was left with only one arm and glorfindel stole his lightsaber and got blown up when he tried to activate it and thats why arwen had to save frodo from the ringwraths.
later on luke found out it was elrong’s other daughter that had saved his life and he fell in love with her becuase she was not only very very pretty but brave and had saved him from his ship burning him up after it had fallen to pieces in the atmosphere but he was very sad because r2d2 was now dead and couldnt’ be fixed with middle earht’s lack of technologys.
so luke was abandoned on middle earth and had to later on marry the girl because he needed to be married or elrond threatend to kick him out of rivendell because he had gotten better now.

so he got marred to her because she was pretty and looked just like taller version of carrie fisher with bigger boobs and pointy ears and they had lots of kids and one of them was actually farimir and they replaced him in gondor as a spy for the elves. later luke made a new lightsaber and gandalf teleported them back to coruscant where luke and his wife faced down the emperor.

‘MUHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!’ the emperor crowed as he took elissia hostage. elissia was lukes wife.

‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” luke wailed! he used force lightning to kill the emperor and force protect to keep his wife safe and the emperor fell over dead.

vader tried to stab elissia but she drew her bow and shot him in the butt. stupid vader fell over in pain and luke and elissia kissed for a very long time. then they killed vader because he was ugly and slowly destoryed the empire so that they could make a peaceful galaxy.

later luke rebuilt r2 and every1 was happy.

A pair of intensively gray eyes stared into a cracked mirror. One would wonder what would cause a being to keep a cracked mirror when in the modern society surrounding offered mirrors at a relatively low price, even offering decent ones at this price. It was interesting to consider this lack of consideration by beings.

But then, it was no different than a vampire owning a mirror.

To be truthful, the one gazing into the mirror wasn’t even a vampire. Sleek hair, fangs, and brilliantly dark eyes might’ve made one question exactly what he was; even the trenchcoat and dark garb… but no. Rislan wasn’t a vampire.

No, Rislan wasn’t a vampire. Rislan was a werewolf. The overly hairy creature standing calmly beside him was, however, a vampire. The overly hairy creature with fangs, nails, and an expression that shot nails into the already shattered mirror. Stalking over to the nearest window, she threw the curtains open with a disgruntled frown and stared into the moonlight with an expression nearly as disgruntled as it had been before the curtains had been flung open.

Silver moonlight trickled into the bedroom, moonbeams reflecting off of the mirror and into the taller of the pair’s eyes. He winced, covering his eyes almost reflectively. In fact, as the mirror’s eyes stared back at him, it was reflectively. The reflection covered its eyes as surely as did the werewolf in distinctively vampiric garb. As surely as the lycanthrope encased vampire had cast the moonlit curtains apart to bathe the room in shadows of silver.

“No,” she muttered. “Not accepting. Denial. Denial is good.”

“Vell—” Rislan started before jerking to a halt and falling into maniacal laughter. “Bvhaha! I speak like you do now! Ahaha! Ahaha!”

The vampire in lycan skin winced painfully at the butchery of her sophisticated manner of speech. “Love, just because I wear your body, doesn’t mean I can’t tear you apart.”

“Ach, it’s more likely now.” Rislan beamed at her; a fangy and malicious grin that could only have been birthed by a predator. As if they both weren’t… “I can be sexy now. Voo-hoo!” He strutted about in the moonlight, the silver playing off of his perfectly formed hair. “I shall seduce all vomankind and zay shall all be mine! Bvhaha!”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” she grumbled absently. “Just remember you’re mine, love.”

“Of course,” he trilled. “Aolane, you know you vill alvavys be mine.”

“Do I sound that stupid normally?”

Taken aback, the now vampiric Rislan blinked. And blinked a second time for good measure. “Vhat? How could you suggest zoze of us who speak vis great perfection sound… faugh… stupid?”

“Because it just occurred to me zat ve do,” she mocked.

The argument was cut off by a shattering noise slicing through the air as cleanly as the inward broken glass from the window flew across the room. Senses kicking in a moment before anything could possibly have harmed him, Rislan’s body moved cleanly, sweeping underneath the spears of glass and bringing itself back upright as they imbedded themselves into the wall with a terrifying thunk. Never mind the fact that all reason would’ve had the glass fall to a weak crumble underneath the window as the grappling hook from below smashed through it.

Moments later, the flawless and yet ruggedly scarred face of a hero peered up from amidst shattered glass, climbing up and through the window without a single cut on his fingers from the broken glass caused by his hook. Amazingly enough, both metaphysical beings had come from the incredibly shattering glass attack without a scratch on their bodies or a hair out of place.

To make certain, Rislan pushed his hair back and grabbed a bit of gel anyway. It wouldn’t do to duel the ultimate hero with mussed hair.

“Knew I shouldn’t’ve gotten the low grade rope,” the hero was muttering—for clearly it was a hero by the large shoulder spread, perfectly toned muscle build, and untouched hair. And the sexy scars on his face, of course. “Cursed castles with no decent windows to clamor through…”

Due to a convenient shift in gravity, Aolane found herself falling into the arms of the rugged and handsome hero. Their eyes met across time and space, though there were but inches separating their lips from touching. “Oh…” she whispered. “You’re so… handsome.” She only wished that she had fangs with which she could sink into the hero’s lush and muscular neck. The most-assuredly non-ivory flesh appealed to her darker nature, his handsome blue eyes appealing to the carnal side.

Rislan, in the meantime, fumed.

The hero’s eyes met hers, slipping past her eyes and down to the incredible bosom she boasted and the slinky black evening dress (which was very unflattering on her newborn lycanthrope body, to be certain). His eyes widened in love at first sight, somehow ignoring the fact that the beautiful and seductive vampire had been turned into a lycanthrope by some horrible twist of fate and she was ugly. Gravity pulled them together, lips touching—

And the hero slumped to the ground, unconscious.

“What’d you do that for?!” Aolane screamed at Rislan; the lycanthrope boasting a rather thick and heavy piece of wood.

“He vas hitting on you, dahling.”

“I wanted him to hit on me!”

“Vell, I didn’t!” He swept her into his arms and kissed her.

“Gah!” She kissed him back anyway, both of them ignoring the fact that as they kissed for an exceedingly long length of time, the sun was gradually coming closer and closer to the horizon, and the unconscious hero had begun to stir. Too caught up in the art of kissing in remarkably distasteful and immoral manners, it was too late for them as the heroic hero plunged a wooden stake through Rislan’s back.

Though Rislan was not a vampire by birth, a stake through the heart could kill anyone. Aolane screamed as her love fell to the floor, a bloody piece of wood pierced through his clothing and staining it with blood.

“You… you… that was a freaking expensive trenchcoat!” she shrieked, the wail of distress intensively high enough to smash the eardrums of even the most hardened heroic spirit. The hero’s hands shot up to his ears, dagger to chop the vampire’s head off slipping and falling. The blade hit with a thump and buried itself into the wooden floor.

Then the sun came up and she died anyway.

Review me.

A godmod of Jandalf’s characters and a parody. Enjoy.

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A long time ago, in… well… a forest not so far away, unless you were from, say, Terra, in which case it was… er…

Somewhere in a forest, there was a little village. There. That’s better. Well, actually, it was a clearing in a forest, and stuff. It was like a woodcutter’s village. Which means it probably wasn’t approprate for kids to be growing up in, but whatever. There were kids, meaning the lumberjacks had to watch their language.

But that’s beside the point.

The point was that Little Blue’s grandm…cough…cough…old relative was ill. Er. Yes.

Old relative.

So her… er…

Blue’s a guy.

I hate to break it to y’all, but he is. Sorry to break story continugity. Really, but I have to. Little Blue Spiky Hair wasn’t at all like the cute blond girl with a red hood. And his old relative was ill. (My characters were trying to convince me to put Ariane as the grandmother, but she rebelled)

So one day, when his relative was particularly ill, his mother called him aside and granted him a basket of goodies, wine, and cheese, and various other stuff you send to ill grandparents. No one knows why you’d want to get them drunk, but whatever…

So his unnamed mother, as no one knows who his mother is anyway, though…

Oh. Okay.

Tiana says she’s his mother. We won’t question her, or the fact that he’s older than her.

“Why do I want to get my grandparent drunken, mother?” Xendor aka Little Blue Spiky Hair asked cheerfully, taking the basket and plotting to eat the cheese himself.

“Because.” Tiana glowered… well… up at him, but that’s beside the point. “Besides, it’ll get rid of you for a day!”

“Oh. All right!” He hugged her and skipped off into the forest, immediately tripping on a portruding root and breaking his ankle.

Of course, in the amount of time it took for his ankle to heal, his grandparent recovered. We have to wait a few years for the relative to get ill again.

The relative DID get ill again! Woo-hoo! And Xendor was sent off into the tall, creepy, and foreboding forest with a basket of all sorts of sinful goodies to plug his grandparents with.

Of course, no matter how horribly foreboding and malicious the forest looked from the exterior, somehow there was sunbeams dancing over daisies and beautiful flowers lining the forest paths. Soft moss outlined the path, making one wonder if it hadn’t been planned to be this way.

Xendor, as distracted as he was, decided to go and pick bluebells for his relative. No one knows why, because his relative didn’t particularly like flowers. But he decided to go get flowers. And perhaps there was a bit of rock music filtering through the trees. But besides that…

He got lost in the forest.

Gee. Big surprise THERE.

Evil beady eyes glowered from between the branches and an unhuman howl split the air.

Xendor dropped his basket and covered his ear. “That can’t be good.”

“MY FINGERNAILS!!!!” a female voice wailed, stumbling from the branches and crashing into Xendor.

A moment later, one of the wine bottles shattered onto the ground. It had been a delayed reaction, after all. Gravity never worked quite right in fairy tales.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!! YOU GOT WINE ON MY MANICURED TOENAILS!! MY SHOES WILL BE RUINED!!” Meqime wailed, beating on Xendor.

“Peticure.”

“What?”

“Not a manicure. That’s your toes,” Xendor pointed out logically. “Do you mind? You’re standing on my basket, your highness.”

She smacked him. “That’s for your impudence! Bow before me!”

“…You’re freaking standing on my basket!” Xendor shoved her. “Get off of it! My grandparent is scarier than you.”

Meqime sidled up to him. “What’s a basket when you could have me, love?”

“It’s a basket.” He pushed her off of the basket and picked it up again. “Aw, look, you crushed the chocolates.”

And so, in a fit of ultimate fury, she grabbed the blue-haired Xendor and ate him up! Not that way, pervert! As in cannibalistic! You know, flesh, blood, bones, gore, and all that rot? There was much screaming, and blood, and pain, and stuff.

But let’s not go there.

Disgusted, Meqime dug around in his basket for an after dinner mint. “So much more satisfying to whip the young welps,” she muttered, using the basket to wipe the blood off of her face.

Xendor pounded on the inside of her stomach. It sounded distinctly like thunder. For some odd reason, even though he was still alive within her, her stomach wasn’t abnormally portruded, or otherwise odd shaped. Fairy tales can work some awfully odd ways.

Coming up with some magic hairdye, she changed her hair color and went off with the basket to grandmother’s house.

Even though it actually wasn’t a grandMOTHER, but whatever…

Suddenly, a very orange figure crashed into Meqime. “THE SKY IS FALLING!! THE SKY IS FALLING!!”

A piece of the sky fell and crushed Jandalf flat, rendering the wizard’s appearance nothing more than a cameo.

“O_o.”

Meqime carried on through the forest still, though now scarred by the sight of a piece of the sky crushing someone flat. It severely bothered her. But then again, when she was run over by a person in a very shiny dress, she was ticked off.

Kemmie stood up and smacked the person. “It’s my job to be the prettiest person in the story!”

Then she double took.

Ira glowered down at her from a very stylized version of Cinderella’s dress. “It wasn’t my choice, all right?”

Kemmie doubled over in fits of laughter.

Of course, Ira got ticked off. The situation only led to one thing.

“Aren’t you a pretty young girl,” Kemmie breathed at him.

Ira glared at her. “It’s a drycleaning job. I was getting it cleaned for Tiana, all right? And they cut my clothes off and insisted I wear this.”

“…”

He stomped off, the white dress getting rather dirty from dragging through the dirt.

But we’ll get to the point. Finally, Meqime arrived at the grandparent’s house. It had a lot of windows. Smoothing back her impersonation of Xendor’s hair, she knocked on the door.

The door was opened, and she found herself knocked over by a very long scarf. A few moments later, a tall figure peered out from behind the scarf. “Yes?”

Meqime, winded by being crushed by a very long knitted scarf, only was able to stare up at her… father. “Get… this… thing… off me!”

“Meqime?” He raised his eyebrows. “I thought they were going to send someone more… sane.”

“Gack…” Meqime shoved the long red scarf off of her chest and stood up.

Elachi examined her hair with raised eyebrows.

“I’m Xendor,” she chirped.

“You sound remarkably female, Xendor.”

“I… er… have a cold.”

Elachi snorted. Meqime couldn’t wait any longer. She bounded on Elachi and somehow managed to swallow him whole. We won’t even try describing how she managed this.

Inside of Kemmie’s stomach, the following conversation took place as she went and placed herself behind a newspaper.

Xendor: Hi, gramps!

Elachi: Hmph. Of all the people she had to eat, she had to eat you.

Xendor: I didn’t know she was a cannibal.

Elachi. (gets newspaper and reads it with a flashlight)

And so, back in the village, Tiana considered the fact that Xendor would probably get sidetracked by the nearby Pillar concert. So she sent off her backup after berating Ira for getting her dress muddy again.

She sent off…

Her daughter.

Wow. Things finally follow the story!

So, Thalia set off with a laptop computer, no fancy colored hoods, and another basket of stuff. One wonders why Tiana didn’t just go herself, but perhaps she was busy with Jether in the background. Kissing, or painting walls, or something.

Thalia made it through the forest completely unharmed. But arriving at the hut in the forest, she paused.

Entering without knocking (because the door was blocked by the exceedingly long knitted scarf), she peered at her supposed grandparent, hiding behind a newspaper.

“Grandpa, your hair is very blue.”

“I know child.”

“You missed a comma. How horrible your grammar is today, grandpa.”

“Er… reading the comics, child.”

“Grandpa, you’ve got breasts.”

“Er…” And Kemmie bounded from behind the newspaper and swallowed Thalia whole! The child was far too observant for her own good.

But, fortunately, a good woodcutter was passing by and heard rather weird sounds coming from the cottage in the woods. Most notable, Meqime’s stomach stretching in strange manners, due to the fact that she had eating three people whole, including a six foot seven man.

And, of course, the conversations coming from within.

“Shaddup!” she muttered to her stomach.

The woodcutterer popped in and gave her a weird look. “Whit did ye do to your hair, Meqime?”

“Gah… I’m Elachi!”

Gaheris peered at her. “No, ye most definately are not.”

We won’t go into the brutality of this scene, but in the end, he killed her and took the people out. Elachi was ticked, Xendor thought it was cool and went off to get high on a tower, and Thalia needed a bath.

After that, Tiana always went to visit her grandparents herself, Ariane kept a close eye on Elachi’s knitting so that it wouldn’t break through the wall, Elachi got to drink all the wine that Thalia brought him, and everything was good.

Well, mostly. Bar the fact that the three characters who got eaten stank for a year and a day.

The moral of this story is make sure your grandparents live in the same town as you if they’re going to get sick, or you’ll get eaten by a seductress of a wolf.

I discovered this in my bored search for something of merit to post.

This isn’t anything of real merit, really… it’s just what Jandalf and I wrote when we only had one computer. (rolling of eyes) Oh, Master, guess what? I discovered we could’ve had two keyboards hooked up after all, and it would’ve worked perfectly normally. Mom and I were doing that one day, to my great amusement…

Too bad. This is proof that we write a LOT better when over each other’s shoulders.

This is also proof that we didn’t switch out of SW canon until recently. Gahhh.

Comes complete with OOC babble. I thought it was hilarious. Comes complete with snazzy more tag because it’s fairly long. Totally clean, though.

(more…)

This post merits the cute “more” button because it’s semi-explicit for the implied remarks. Basically, a summary, this is a post made to get it out of my system—what my characters will and won’t do. It starts off very mild, but will probably get more explicit, just to get it out of my system…

This is a character interview, more or less, but not one fit for Yoda Clones… not that it’s smut, or anything, it’s just implicational.

(more…)

“I am God. Today I will be handling all of your problems. Please remember that I do not need your help. If life happens to deliver a situation to you that you cannot handle, do not attempt to resolve it. Kindly put it in the SFGTD (something for God to do) box. It will be addressed in My time, not yours. Once the matter is placed into the box, do not hold onto it.

If you find yourself stuck in traffic; Don’t despair. There are people in this world for whom driving is an unheard of privilege.

Should you have a bad day at work; Think of the man who has been out of work for years.

Should you despair over a relationship gone bad; Think of the person who has never known what it’s like to love and be loved in return.

Should you grieve the passing of another weekend; Think of the man in dire straits, working twelve hours a day, seven days a week to feed his children.

Should your car break down, leaving you miles away from assistance; Think of the paraplegic who would love the opportunity to take that walk.

Should you notice a new gray hair in the mirror; Think of the cancer patient in chemo who wishes she had hair to examine.

Should you find yourself at a loss and pondering what is life all about, asking what is my purpose? Be thankful. There are those who didn’t live long enough to get the opportunity.

Should you find yourself the victim of other people’s bitterness, ignorance, smallness or insecurities; Remember, things could be worse. You could be them!!!! “

25 Phrases Of Wisdom
1. If you’re too open minded, your brains will fall out.

2. Age is a very high price to pay for maturity.

3. Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than going to a garage makes you a mechanic.

4. Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity.

5. If you must choose between two evils, pick the one you’ve never tried before.

6. My idea of housework is to sweep the room with a glance.

7. Not one shred of evidence supports the notion that life is serious.

8. It is easier to get forgiveness than permission.

9. For every action, there is an equal and opposite government program.

10. If you look like your passport picture, you probably need the trip.

11. Bills travel through the mail at twice the speed of checks.

12. A conscience is what hurts when all your other parts feel so good.

13. Eat well, stay fit, die anyway.

14. Men are from earth. Women are from earth. Deal with it.

15. No husband has ever been shot while doing the dishes.

16. A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand.

17. Middle age is when broadness of the mind and narrowness of the waist change places.

18. Opportunities always look bigger going than coming.

19. Junk is something you’ve kept for years and throw away three weeks before you need it.

20. There is always one more imbecile than you counted on.

21. Experience is a wonderful thing. It enables you to recognize a mistake when you make it again.

22. By the time you can make ends meet, they move the ends.

23. Thou shalt not weigh more than thy refrigerator.

24. Someone who thinks logically provides a nice contrast to the real world.

AND . . . (drum roll please?)

25. Blessed are they who can laugh at themselves for they shall never cease to be amused.

An older couple had a son, who was still living with them. The parents were a little worried, as the son was still unable to decide about his future career. So they decided to do a small test.

They put a note on the front hall table that they had left. Around the note they put a ten-dollar bill, a Bible, and a bottle of whiskey. Then they hid, pretending they were not at home.

The father told his wife, “If our son takes the money, he will be a businessman, if he takes the Bible, he will be a pastor, but if he takes the bottle of whiskey, I’m afraid our son will be a no-good drunkard.”

So the parents hid in the nearby closet and waited nervously. Peeping through the keyhole they saw their son arrive. The son read the note that they had left.

Then he took the ten-dollar bill, looked at it against the light, and slid it in his pocket.

After that, he took the Bible, flipped through it, and put it under his arm.

Finally, he grabbed the bottle, opened it, and took an appreciative whiff to be assured of the quality. Then he left for his room, carrying all three items.

The father slapped his forehead and said: “This is worse than I could ever have imagined!”

“What? asked the wife.

“Our son is going to be a politician!”

The President of the United States, the Prime Minister of England, and the Communist leader met and started discussing the dreams they had. The President of the U.S. said: “I dreamed that I was made President of the World.”

The Prime Minister of England laughed and said: “I too dreamed I was made Prime Minister of the World.”

The Communist leader cried: “That’s funny. I have no recollection of appointing either of you!”

During his visit to the United States the Pope met with President Clinton. Instead of just an hour as scheduled, the meeting went on for two days. Finally, a weary President Clinton emerged to face the waiting news media. The President was smiling and announced the summit was a resounding success. He said he and the Pope agreed on 80% of the matters they discussed. Then Mr. Clinton declared he was going home to the White House to be with his family.

A few minutes later the Pope came out to make his statement. He looked tired, discouraged and was practically in tears. Sadly he announced his meeting with the President was a failure. Incredulous, one reporter asked, “But your Holiness, President Clinton just announced the summit was a great success and the two of you agreed on 80% of the items discussed”.

Exasperated, the Pope answered, “Yes, but we were talking about the Ten Commandments.”

Hillary Clinton dies and goes to Heaven where she meets St. Peter. She notices that there are clocks everywhere. She asks St. Peter why are there so many clocks here.

St. Peter tells her that each clock represents a person on earth and that every time a person tells a lie, the clock ticks off one-second. St. Peter explains that the one clock has never moved because it belonged to mother Theresa and she never told a lie her whole life. The next clock belonged to Abraham Lincoln and since he only told two lies his whole life, only two seconds had clicked.

Hillary asks, “Where is Bill’s clock?”

St. Peter says, “Bill’s clock is in Jesus’ office. He’s using it as a fan.”

A preacher, who shall we say was “humor impaired,” attended a conference to help encourage and better equip pastors for their ministry. Among the speakers were many well known and dynamic speakers.

One such boldly approached the pulpit and, gathering the entire crowd’s attention, said, “The best years of my life were spent in the arms of a woman that wasn’t my wife!” The crowd was shocked! He followed up by saying, “And that woman was my mother!” - The crowd burst into laughter and delivered the rest of his talk, which went over quite well.

The next week, the pastor decided he’d give this humor thing a try, and use that joke in his sermon. As he surely approached the pulpit that sunny Sunday, he tried to rehearse the joke in his head. It suddenly seemed a bit foggy to him.

Getting to the microphone he said loudly, “The greatest years of my life were spent in the arms of another woman that was not my wife!” The congregation inhaled half the air in the room. After standing there for almost 10 seconds in the stunned silence, trying to recall the second half of the joke, the pastor finally blurted out, “…and I can’t remember who she was!”