just some random dribbles from my Ripple Effect project. enjoy. n.n

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 "I see into your hearts, and your hearts look into me, and they see only an ending to your suffering. An ending to your pain and fear."
 JJ swallowed hard, and he stood, his sonic screwdriver poised and at the ready. His brother, his sister, each side by side with him. Standing between the Trickster and their allies. "Sonic settings to red," he ordered.
 Jenny smashed her thumb against the side of her sonic pistol. Medicus slammed his index finger against the pound key of his cellphone.
 "Pattern Omega-Theta-Pi!" he barked, and the three of them aimed in different directions. "Calculate point 002 degrees west Medicus. Jenny, south 2.9 degrees."
 "What are you doing?!" the Trickster wailed.
 "Jack, get these people out of here! NOW!"
 "James!" Quin shouted, reaching out for the time boy wonder, but Jack held him back.
 "Don't worry," JJ said. "I'll pop 'round for tea tomorrow, you'll see," he said. "Now RUN!"
 "Stop! I order you to come back!"
 "Not this time," Jenny said. "On three!"
 "One... Two..." Medicus counted off. JJ smirked.
 "Four!" he shouted.
 Jenny laughed. "Seventeen!"
 "Square root of Pi!" Medicus offered.
 "Three!" they shouted as one, each firing off a sonic blast in the strategic directions. The points of maximum destruction, JJ had calculated in his head.
-----------------------------
 He shook his head. "I can't do that. I was raised believing that there's a future for human kind. I know there is. If there weren't, I wouldn't..." he trailed off, looking at Jack with a weary expression.
 This boy was far older than Jack had been led to believe. He'd seen his share of battle and blood. And unlike all the others, it had only strengthened him in ways none could ever imagine. He wasn't 220 years old. How old was he? As old as the Doctor? Surely not. But much older than himself.
 "There's so much I want to tell you. But there's so much you can't possibly know and comprehend. I wish there was some way... some way I could..."
 "Do you have any Retcon?" Jack asked finally.
 The boy shook his head. "No. I can't do that. I won't. Not to you."
 "Just meeting you has-"
 The boy nodded, cutting him off with a hand over his mouth. "Don't say it," he said, giving Jack a forlorn expression. "If you say it, it might come true."
 JJ, he knew the consequences of crossing his almost-direct timeline. He knew what could happen. He could step out of his ship one day, and cease to exist. Or his ship could go hurtling through space, falling apart around him until he too faded into stardust and joined the legendary Astrid Perth on the cosmic winds.
 He'd been waiting his whole life for this moment, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he smiled at Jack and lowered his hand. "Just... When he comes back to Cardiff, and he will. He needs to refuel the Tardis. Make sure he stays over in the Hub for a night or two, would you? Order some pizzas, dig around in the archives and find things that haven't been properly labeled yet," he said. "For my sake, if not for anyone elses. Otherwise all of this." He indicated the Hub. Gwen sitting at her station, Ianto stopping by her to set a mug beside her keyboard. Martha diligently running from her station to the autopsy pit. And Mickey, trying his hand at learning the late Toshiko Sato's masterpieces. "All of this, will be for nothing."
 Jack nodded. He understood what the young commander meant. Though, how his existence would come about, he didn't enlighten on. Just, have the Doctor hang around for a while. Was pretty open-ended. Then again, Jack had a few ideas...
 JJ rose from the chair, picking up his coat. Easily distinguishable from Jack's now that the two had lain side by side. The Commander's was clean, yes, but faded slightly. Small repairs made over years of continuous use, and care, by its owner. Even, Jack noticed, a few additions to the lapels. Special badges, he guessed. One for UNIT. One for Torchwood, among countless others.
 He stood, rounding his desk as JJ slipped it over his arms with a contented sigh, as if being wrapped up in an old, comfortable lover he hadn't seen in years. "I'll go say bye to the lot, and collect Quincy from the boardroom," he said.
 "What about Ianto?" Jack asked as he went to one of the wall panes, peering out through the blinds at the official Torchwood coffee boy.
 "The temporal displacement has been neutralized. He is firmly established in this world's pattern of continuity. He shouldn't have much problem readjusting."
 "The psychic link?"
 "I've done the best I could, given the unique circumstances and what little knowledge I have on the subject. I have to thank you for that, by the way. If you hadn't bumped into yourself, I wouldn't have known what to do."
 Jack turned his head to look at him, raising his brow. "What?"
 "Oh... I suppose that hasn't happened for you yet. Well, not this you. Take my word for it," he said. "The Doctor was right. No one must ever cross their own timeline. Especially you. Put Donna in a right awful fit. Had to put her back in Containment to stabalize her."
 "That bad huh?"
 "Yeah," JJ said, stepping to him and offering his hand with a small smile. "It was an honor to finally meet you face to face."
 Jack took his hand, and shook it briefly before pulling him into a tight embrace, and kissing his forhead. Though they'd only met recently, and doubted they'd meet again given the young man's earlier conffessions, he felt he'd known him all his life.
 And in a way, he had known him. Part of him. That part which he rarely, if ever, let anyone else see besides...
 JJ pulled away, reaching for the door and smoothing out his coat with a small cough. "We've got to be going. Ianto will be having residual effects, but that will pass with time. The further we travel from Earth, specifically within his lifetime, the weaker it will get. It will always be there, but it will be burried in his subconcious, disguised as bad dreams and nightmares of strange alien planets and oddball adventures."
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note: the following is actually going to be turned into a short story about JJ the Time Boy pre-Torchwood

He took out his keyring and tried the lock.
 It wouldn't give.
 Frowning, he took a step back and looked around. This was the right house, wasn't it?
 Of course it was. He was just being daft. There was the same garden knome he'd tripped over when he was seven. And the bush that groaned and shook as he had walked by, greeting him in that strange way it had since they'd gotten it when he was three. The Laughing Bush, he'd called it when he was 5 when it snickered at his crude attempt at building his own skateboard.
 He shook his head and laughed to himself lightly under his breath, stepping to the door and trying his key again.
 And once again, it hadn't worked.
 Surely, she'd gotten his postcard, telling her he was comming home today.
 Maybe she forgot, as she often did, living the strange life she led.
 The boy decided to sit on the front stoop and wait. Maybe she'd been burgled, or something extraordinary had happened, and she'd had to change the locks while he was away.
 Just maybe that was it. Of course that was it. And this was the right house. He would just wait for her to come home. Maybe she was at the grocer, picking up some things for a surprise welcome home bash.
   ---
 Hours ticked by. He'd been waiting all morning, and into the afternoon. It wasn't until the sun started to go down that someone noticed him, sitting there.
 A young girl, she couldn't have been more than 13, maybe 14 from the look of her. She had come running across the street just after getting home with her father. The boy watched her from where he was sitting at the door.
 She hadn't noticed him until she passed through the gate, and the Laughing Bush greeted her with it's usual shakes and groans.
 "Oh!" she exclaimed when she saw him.
 "Hi," he replied.
 She looked around, and sighed. "Darn. She must not be home yet." She looked to the boy and put a hand on her bag, tucking it back behind her, he noticed, slowly and carefully. "Uhm, excuse me?" she said.
 "Yes?" he replied.
 "I don't suppose you know if Sarah Jane is home yet?"
 He shrugged. "If she wasn't, she'd have let me in by now," he said with a smile. She gave him a strange look.
 "Well," she said, deciding that she didn't quite like the idea of a stranger hanging around her neighbor's door. "When she gets in, could you tell her I came by. I found something that I'm dying to show her," she said.
 He nodded. "And, who will I tell her came by?"
 "Just tell her the neighbor girl," she replied, and quickly ran off.
 He watched her cross the street, pulling out her cellphone as she went. He sighed and cracked his knuckles, shifted his position, and continued to wait.
   ---
 She pulled up with her son to find a young man crouching in front her knome.
 "Mom?" Luke asked, pointing to the young man. "Who's that?"
 He was crouching with his back to them.
 "Wait here," she said, reaching for her purse. "If anything happens, you run across the way to Maria's."
 "But-"
 "No buts Luke. Just do it," she said sternly, taking out her sonic lipstick just in case. She got out of her car, and was careful to shut the door as quietly as she could.
 He had heard the car, but he did not rise. It was like a background noise to what he was currently focused on. A small lizzard, perched at the peak of the knome's red hat. He had made eye contact with it, and the two were staring one another down. And had been for the last 27 minutes and 49 seconds.
 He heard her get out of the car, and try to creep up quietly behind him.
 "Sarah Jane Smith," he said, slowly rising to his full height, breaking his concentration on the lizard. She stopped dead in her tracks. He whirled around with a smile.
 And she knew that smile. It was the same one she'd seen fifteen years ago.
 "James?!" she exclaimed, still holding her sonic lipstick out. He glanced at the pink LED light at the end and his smile faltered. He'd been on the business end of that device far too often.
 "Could you please put that away. It's giving me the heebie-jeebies just looking at it like that," he said, then looked past her to the other boy. "Starting an orphanage?" he asked with a raised brow.
 She glanced over her shoulder to the car. Luke was sitting with his hand on the doorhandle, ready to bolt like he'd been told. She smiled reassuringly at him. "It's safe to come out, Luke!" she shouted so he could hear her through the glass. "He's an old friend!"
 "Friend?" he asked with a pout. She laughed. "I see how it is," he joked, then went to his bag and picked it up. He didn't have much in the way of stuff. Just a few odds and ends. Toothbrush, a few changes of clothes, his old military school uniform, and three textbooks he'd picked up in a used bookstore around Warner Robins Airforce Base.
 She turned to him again, and opened her arms. He fell into them with a soft smile. "Welcome home," she said, stroking his hair gently.
   ---
 "That girl from across the way came by today," he said, getting up to clear the table before Luke had a chance to get up and do it. He stacked all three plates neatly in a pile in the sink, and set all of the silverware on top.
 Luke's eyes grew wide with sudden excitement. "Mom," he said. "Maria found a box in the computer lab today."
 "Really?" she asked, taking a sip of her iced tea. She wasn't accustomed to its strong sweetness, but she didn't have the heart to waste it after James had been so kind to make it for them. "What sort of box is it?"
 "We don't know," he said. "But, it had these little grooves on it, and it's about the size of my thumb."
 "Was it sort of bronze colored, with tiny little bumps along the bottom?"
 Luke blinked and looked at him. He nodded slowly as James picked up the casserole dish that still had bits of lasagna in it. He set this, along with a bowl of green beans on the counter, and started looking for containers to store the leftovers in.
 "Yes. How did you know?"
 He was about to answer, but Sarah Jane interrupted him. "James... knows many things about alien technology," she said, trying to come up with something to add. "When he was a child, he used to rummage through the attic trying to find bits of them to take apart and play with rather than playing with his stuffed animals."
 "Oh, that was a laugh," he said, his American accent strong and thick. "Remember that one time I found your sonic lipstick and kept using it as a light sabre on the toaster?"
 She covered her mouth to hide a small laugh. "Yes. You kept burning the toast and didn't understand why it was happening," she said.
 "Yes, but-" Luke started, and broke off when Sarah Jane turned to him.
 "Luke," she said, noticing that he felt a little left out of the conversation. "Let's get to cups of cocoa and sit outside. You can tell me all about this strange little box while we look up at the stars."
 The boy's face brightened, and he rose from the table, taking his empty glass and Sarah Jane's half full one to the sink where James was already starting to wash the dishes. "We have a dishwasher."
 "I know," he said with a wolfish grin. "But the dishwasher and I don't agree with eachother."
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 "A piece of the temporal shift vortex jumper, specifically Dalekanian," he said, shaking his head.
 "Do you remember the widespread panic last year, with the strange planets in the sky?"
 He nodded. He remembered that very well. Every bone in his body had screamed for him to come home, to come back to Sarah Jane, and protect her. But he couldn't. Not when Daleks were roaming the streets, herding people together like cattle.
 He'd fought them. When many of his mates ran, he lashed together a few weapons, and he led a charge on the rolling trash cans that threatened his surrogate home town. He understood what she was getting at. "Scrap metal," he said. "From ones that the locals took down, right?"
 "Yes," she said. "But, there's not much to worry about it now."
 "But it's Dalek. It has to be destroyed."
 "I know how you feel, James, but-"
 "No," he said. "We need to destroy it. If it falls into the wrong hands, there's no telling what damage will happen, or how much."
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 She sat down beside him on the makeshift bed in the attic. "James," she said. "There's something I need to tell you."
 "I'm not human," he said. "I know. Part of me has always known."
 She wrapped a loving arm around his shoulders, and pressed her head against the side of his. He was still so young, but he was so brilliant. "Do you remember the day I took you in?" she asked.
 He nodded slowly, and she smiled, putting a hand on his in his lap. "It's fuzzy. I was so young, but yes. The man from the orphanage brought me here, and told me that you were going to take care of me."
 "That man wasn't from the orphanage," she said, sitting upright and turning so she could face him. She sat with one leg up on the bed, her foot hanging off the edge. "James, that man was the Doctor. He asked me to look after you for him."
 "Because I'm not human?"
 She shook her head. "No. Because he didn't want that kind of life for you. Traveling into danger as he does, he didn't want you to get hurt. You were so small, and he loved you a lot."
 He looked at her, tears welling up in his eyes. He didn't understand.
 She saw his lost expression, and she took his hand in both of her's, sqeezing it gently. "You remember all those stories I told you before bed, about the traveling Doctor and his adventures. They're true. All of them are true. And all of the stories I told you, they happened to me when I wasn't much older than you are now.
 "The Doctor is a wonderful man, James. And that wonderful man is your father. He didn't want you to have to live that life, and get hurt. You mean the world to him."
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 "We had heard this world was defended," the creature croaked. "But all we see are frail cattle suitable only for subjugation."
 "Subjugate this."
 It came from the shadows. The hot blaze of gunfire. The flash from the barrell lit up the dark space like a firecracker, and she saw his steely gaze.
 The creature howled, and turned it's head in a 180 degree to look back at him. From it's lips came a sound unearthly, unnatural. And from the wound in it's back was a sickly yellow puss, bubbling and gurgling into a fine misty vapor as it hit the oxygen.
 He stepped out, the light catching his form in such a way he looked as if something right out of a classic noir film. Held tightly in his hands was an odd device. He stood with his feet apart, the strap crossing his chest from his left shoulder to the makeshift rifle on his right.
 "Let the girl go, and I promise I'll end it slowly," he said, his hand flicking a switch on the right. It looked like an oversized hand-held hair dryer, now that she got a good look at it.
 The creature hissed, and he fired again, taking another step forward. His hand flicking the side of his weapon after each shot. She heard a click, and the creature leapt up high into the air with a frightening screech.
 "Get out of here! NOW!" he shouted as she crawled towards her gun. She didn't listen. Instead, she climbed to her feet as he scanned the area. "Shit," he said. "Lost her again."
 "That," she gasped, feeling her throat with her free hand. "Was a woman?!"
 "Hybrid species. A cross between a Luekanian and a Ridgeback. You're lucky she didn't rip your throat out."
 "A few seconds more," she said. "And it would have."
 He flicked a second switch, firing an emergency flare into the night sky. The air lit up brightly, and he scanned the heavens. It was gone, for now. He pushed his weapon to rest against his back, and heard the subtle click as she cocked her gun behind his back.
 "That won't do you any good," he said. "It's best you and your friends leave this one to me."
 "Who are you?" she demanded, choking back the throbbing ache in her neck as she changed her stance. Feet apart, and both hands wrapped around the human-made firearm. "Tell me who you are!"
 He shook his head, turning swiftly and knocking her off balance with a wave of his arm. His other hand reached for her gun, twisting her arms in a direction they were never meant to go, and easily disarming her. She staggered back, reaching for her back up service revolver.
 He held her gun up, dangling off his index finger and shook his head. "Torchwood is out of it's league here, little missy," he said.
 "UNIT," she spat.
 He knew the hostilities between the two organizations. There had always been a feeling of contempt between them, but they'd always cooperated in the past. Now, he knew, there was nothing but competition. If only Captain Jack had still been around... Maybe then they would have been kept in line, both of the groups.
 He didn't answer, not right away. That's all he needed, an accidental turf war between two groups of children with big powerful weapons. "No. But you'd best keep to your weevil hunting and investigative crime solving. Leave the alien invasions to me."
   ---
 "He calls himself John Smith," he said, zooming in on the CCTV footage of the skirmish the night before.
 "Alias obviously," she muttered. "What else do you have for me?"
 "It's not an alias," O'Malley said, pulling up a second screen. "That actually is his name. Johnathan James Smith, raised in Ealing under the care of Sarah Jane Smith, a freelance investigative reporter who took part in the Medusa Dalek incident during the Harkness regime."
 "I see," she said. "Under the care, you say. He isn't her biological son?"
 "No mam," he replied, pulling on an LCD screen and moving it closer. "It says... I can't believe this. He was adopted in...1994. That would make him nearly 50 years old!" he exclaimed. "But there's a date of death for March 19th, 2010."
 "Impossible!"
 "A phantom?"
 She shook her head. "There's..." Her eyes grew wide as she was struck with an idea. "Bring up the records for the Medusa Dalek incident and anything you can on Sarah Jane Smith. Break into the UNIT files if you have to."
 "Yes mam," he said, setting to work.
 "We've got unauthorized Rift use in Bristol!" a woman's voice said on the intercom. "It's off the charts. Even Harkness is twitching from it!"
 "I'm on my way," she said, turning back to the technical specialist. "I want that info before the night is up."
 "On it," he said.
-------------------------------
 "John Smith," she said, raising her gun. "It was hard trying to track you down."
 He grinned. "I didn't have any doubt that Torchwood would find me," he said. "But you're in over your head. This isn't just petty Earth stuff anymore."
 "Really?"
 He nodded, reaching into his coat.
 "Hands where I can see them!" she barked, cocking her gun.
 "I'm just getting my credentials," he said, reaching at first for his psychic paper, but then chose instead his wallet. He pulled it from his pocket, and made sure she could see what he was doing. Flicking through the various cards, he found the one he'd chosen.
 "Torchwood Archival Institute," he said, holding it up for her to see. "Timeline Corrections Department," he said. "Go on, take it."
 She hessitated a moment, but seeing that he wasn't reaching for any weapons, and did as he was told by keeping his hands in sight, she sntatched it from him, looking the card over. "No such thing," she said.
 He sighed. "Of course not, not yet," he said. "I'm on a mission to track down and find Jack Harkness before the Leukanian assassins find him. Their goal is to use the Rift to engineer an invasion. Unfortunately, Captain Harkness is hooked up to it, and the resulting damage would be fatal to not just Earth, but this entire arm of the Galactic Spiral."

Tw_dw_ripple_effect_title

i've decided to write a new fanfic. the above image is the quick logo thing i created for the fanfic's designated page on my website. i'll make a better one later on, promise. n.n

anywho, obviously, it's a Torchwood/Doctor Who crossover fic. i've never been good with writing from the point of view of a character already in a series (i.e. in sailor moon fanfics, i've NEVER been able to write from Sailor Moon's point of view, nor any of the other main characters, same goes for Charmed, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and all other fandoms i have) THEREFORE the main characters are original creations that exist in the Whoniverse, but have their own priorities and motivations, and unique and bizzare backstories. of course, the main characters from the Whoniverse of the new series and Torchwood are there. Mickey Smith, Martha Jones, Jack Harkness, hell, even Gwen Cooper (and her fiance Rhys will appear in a later chapter) even, of course, Captain John Hart!

http://melancholia-dragonflies.net/stories/fanfic/tdkh_S1.html

that's the direct link to the Ripple Effect page. read, comment, flame, whatever. n.n

What question do you hate being asked?

there's a few, actually, that all rank as number 1 for me.

Are you really a vegiatarian?

Are you gay? (as if that one isn't obvious lol!)

Are you going to eat that?

Does this shirt/pants/outfit make me look fat?

Why do you always complain when I try to tell you about (insert random stupid topic here)?

i doubt the person i am writing about will ever read this. i posted it on my xanga, but she doesn't read that either. but i felt i should say it textually, as writing helps me cope with certain things.

recently, in the last 24-36 hours, a sibling of mine (i'm not saying which one) has taken great offense at the fact that one of my other family members is angry with God (that's right, I spelled it with a capital G, meaning THE Christian God) at the moment for reasons I'm NOT going to explain, to anyone unless i choose to (so don't ask.) all i'll say is it's something big, and if it happened to you, you'd probably be angry at/with God too...

anyway, here's what i posted on xanga.

and i feel that it needs to be said, even if it's never read by the intended...

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An Open Letter to My Christian Sibling

i believe in...
 - active non-violence (pacifism, despite how angry i might get)
 - benevolence to strangers and enemies (mediation and compromise among both sides of an argument, offering help and advice to someone who obviously needs it)
 - the healing power of prayer (though i may not pray to the same god of the same name)
 - perfection (or rather, understanding that i can't be perfect, but i can always do and try my best at what i apply my effort to)
 - compassion and humaneness (though sometimes i can be irritating, i care for others, and stand up for those who can't, and care for those who cannot care for themselves)
 - correction of others, supportively (constructive criticism is the best way to help someone who just can't seem to get the most out of what they've got, and it's always a double edged sword. as such, i'm always open to receiving it myself.
 - equality and inclusiveness (being from a poor, working class family, i've never had the need to see dividing lines between people; all of my friends come from different backgrounds and beliefs, and everyone has a voice)
 - financial and/or other support of church (though i am of a different faith, i never forget where i came from, and understand that people are there to help. i donate not out of guilt, but out of love for others, and donating to churches are an avenue to help people, even if my help is only indirect)
 - forgiveness to all, including enemies (i get mad, but so does everyone. even higher powers get mad sometimes. and no matter how angry and pissed off i get at someone, at some point, i do let it go. and to let it go, i do forgive them, even if just a little, so that i myself can move on and not be weighted down by what has been, but can look forward to what will and can be)
 - generosity to all, including enemies (it's a fundamental moral of all faiths, of all beliefs. "do unto others, as you would have them do unto you." i call it the rule of 3. what i give out to the world, it comes back to me three times the intensity and strength. why be mean when you can be good and kind and helpful?)
 - honesty (because basically, lies and deceit cause more trouble than it takes the time to think them up)
  - humility and modesty (i respect other's opinions. i don't go flashing my cash around. i don't flaunt what i have in front of others. i don't "air my dirty laundry in public", save for blowing off steam on a blog or two. even then, i keep most certain details very private; i am better than some, but not everyone, and there is always people better than myself)
 - justice (everyone gets what they give. if it's bad, they get the bad. if it's good, they get the good. consequences come in all shapes and flavors.)
 - marraige sanctity (though legally in most places, i cannot be "married" in the traditional sense, i hold sacred being with one person only, giving all of yourself to someone else in a bond that can't be easily broken, not only marrying the person physically, but spiritually too. to break that bond of trust is tragic. to cheat on someone you love, someone you have given yourself to so deeply, it's the worst you could do.)
 - mercy (when you've got the upperhand, allowing the other person to catch up. when someone is suffering, help them out. when someone has wronged you, give a second chance.)
 - overcomming evil with good (staying positive, and looking at the bright side. if you wallow in self-pity, in self-doubt, you'll never get anything done at all)

 - purity (being open and honest, true and steadfast in your ideals and beliefs. being true to yourself, and all you hold sacred - be it in a thick book of ancient tales, or in a giant flying speghetti monster)
 - repentance (owning up to mistakes, correcting them, and understanding why you made them)
 - unconditional love for all, including enemies (even when you've been hurt by someone you cared about, overcomming the anger and eventually, on some level somehow wishing them just a little bit of good in their life, even if it doesn't involve yourself at all.)
 - wisdom (nobody knows everything. there is always something someone else can teach you. to think you know it all is just being a fool.)
 - women and men in leadership roles (everyone is equal in the eyes of the universe. some people are better at things than others... for a bit of a barbaric example... most women understand children better than most men because they give birth to them, they [generally] are the primary caretakers, and they are biologically more suited to dealing with emotional stress, whereas most men can probably rebuild a transmission with little difficulty than most women [yes, i understand this example is a bit barbaric and primative, but it's just for the sake of simplifying things]  and it's these "she's better at... he's the best at..." type of qualities that gives men and women both the strength they need to succeed and do well.)

All of these values have been the core of many a religion. All of these values, I know, are the same as your's, though our interpretations and applications differ. We were raised in the same household, under the same watchful eyes and with the same values instilled in us.But why, my own flesh and blood, my sibling, can't you accept the fact that though I may believe in the same values, the same principals as you, I am not of your personal faith and beliefs? Why does it offend you so, that I think differently than you, when the basis and values of our beliefs are the same?

I was a Christian once, long ago in my childhood. I am not one now.

And I will not hide myself from you, nor others, any longer just for the sake of "keeping the peace." My gay cannot be "prayed away" or beaten from me mentally with a holy book. My opinions and thoughts cannot and will not be changed just because someone else doesn't accept me for who and what I am. I am not broken, I don't need to be fixed. I am not in danger, I do not need to be saved. My soul is not going to burn in hellfire and eternal damnation because that is not what I believe. (Wasn't it God, or rather, the Word of God, that says, and I'm paraphrasing here, "Whatever you hold true on earth, He shall hold true in the Kingdom of Heaven"? If that is, in fact, the Word of God, the almighty and unchangable truth, then what I believe to be true is true. What you believe to be true, is true. If I believe there's a flying speghetti monster, then by the gods, when I die, I'll get to meet the flying spaghetti monster!)

If my second outing of myself drives a wedge between us, then so be it. I cannot take the oppression I have felt for the last 8 years of my life a single second longer.

I am a pagan. I practice magic, I practice spellcasting, I practice drumming and healing, and chanting, and have been developing my personal psychic abilities. I believe in reincarnation, karma, and alien life forms in space. I am clairaudient, I am clairsentient. I read tarot cards, and oracle cards, and playing cards. I scry with stones and mirrors. I use a pendulum. I read books on alternative thought forms, and I occasionally astral project when the mood strikes me.

I am a practicing pagan.

And I am proud.

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ALL of the values and morals listed can be found on the following webpage:

http://www.bibletexts.com/terms/genuine-christianity.htm

here's a special 4th of july dribble for you all!

enjoy! n.n

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 "Oh wow! Did you see that one!"
 "No," he said.
 "It was so fuckin cool!"
 "Language!" the other man barked.
 "Yeah! It's a screamer!"
 "Why the hell did I have to come?" he growled.
 "It was your idea."
 One of the boys tugged on the blind man's sleeve. "Sammy! Sammy! It was so big! It was all white, then blue, then green and and and-"
 "I meant you should take the brats, not me."
 "HOLY SHIT! DID YOU SEE THAT ONE!"
 "Launguage!" he barked again. The girl crossed her arms and puffed out her cheeks.
 The boy still tugged on his sleeve.
 "What!"
 The boy giggled. "It was a giant flower."
 Al laughed. Sam grumbled. Elijah squirmed his way between them on the park bench as Ezekiel ran across the park lawn hugging a giant cardboard tube with a long fuse.
 "Da! Da! Lookit that one!" Nessa squealed, her annoyance forgotten as she pointed up at the sky.
 "I can't see a damn thing," Sam mumbled just before taking a sip of his coke.
 Al snickered. "S'okay. You'll be seein plenty of fireworks later," he said.
 "Eeewwww!" Elijah groaned, covering his ears as he looked up at the night sky glowing with burning lights.
 And Ezekiel ran. He ran and he ran, determined to outrun the security detail that wanted to get one of the fireworks for the big finale back.

i've decided i quite like writing with Jyroe and Taki. they're quite fun, especially Jyroe's gender bending. i believe i'm going to continue writing on them for a while. i'm not making any plans for a complete story, but if that's what happens then it happens. right now, i just want dribbles, so i can get the creative juices flowing. the idea was inspired by an rp between me (playing Jyroe) and someone i have since stopped rping with. it was a great concept, but the person i was playing with was... well, she was downright annoying and too needy and whiney. (if you know who i mean, then you TOTALLY get what i'm sayin on that one lol) but since it was such a great story we had started, and the concept was pretty good compared to what this person usually came up with, i think i'll just take it and run with it for a while. n.n

a collection of dribbles, very recently written, centering around my RP character Jyroe Iva and her master, who's name i've forgotten so i just came up with something on the fly. n.n

as always! ENJOY! n.n

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 They sat in silence for a while. The crackling of the fire more than enough to fill the void.

The assasin looked to his lady, and she sighed.
 "What is wrong, my Willow?" he asked.
 She brushed her long, black locks from her face, and pulled on the sleeves of her kimono

some, as if preening herself like all ladies of her station would. "Nothing," she said, not wanting to look

at him.
 "There is something. You look far more despondant than is your usual expression."
 She swallowed hard, shaking her head a little before rising to her feet. Bare, pale flesh

against the rough forest floor. She seemed a lovely nymph among the crude backdrop of winter

dormant trees and dead flora.
 "I will fetch more wood. The fire is beginning to burn too low."
 "Let it burn out."
 "You will freeze," she said, keeping her head bowed to him.
 He smiled, rising up from where he sat upon his bed roll and went to her. "Freezing to

death is the least of my worries," he said. "Come, lay with me. Your heat will keep me warm through

the night."
 She shook her head. "No, young master. I will not."
 He smiled, taking her hand, gently at first before he pulled hard, knocking her off balance

and into his waiting arms. His rough, calloused hands held her tight, groping her through the thickness

of her kimono.
 Groping her not with the force of a ruffian who knew no better, nor an angry master bent

on getting his way. His hands were far more careful, yet firm in the knowledge that she would not fight

against him. There was an untold power in his hands, as he grabbed at just the right places. All of the places he knew would make his lady melt.
 But she pulled away from him. Surprise overtook him for a few seconds before he became angry. She had never done such a thing before. She always gave in to him, without fail.
 "You willful woman!" he spat.
 But she was unaffected by his bitter words. He was young, she knew, far younger than herself. A mere boy still only 17 years old. She could not hold his urges, nor his manly needs against him. It was his nature.
 Instead, she smiled sadly and smoothed out the folds of her kimono. "I will fetch more wood," she said. "Perhaps, if the gods are merciful, I might kill some meat for you tonight." She pulled from her sleeve a bit of cord, and used it to tie her hair back. The actions of which she spoke were unfit for a woman of her sort. But the assassin learned long ago, when their journey began not to argue with her on such trivial matters.
 For she was far more capable to do a man's work than any man he had ever cared to know.
 "I will be back soon," she said, going to their shared pack and removing her pair of knives. "Do not stray too far from the flames. You will catch cold, and it is still three days walk between here and the nearest village."
 He rolled his eyes. She was always fretting over his health. His well being. Making him drink an awful ancient concoction just upon hearing him sneeze once or twice. Or putting him to bed if she heard him cough on a pheasant bone.
 "I will be fine. Fetch that wood, and come quickly back," he said.

-------------------------------

Propriety had always been her way. Keeping face in the heat of shame. And shame burned now. Raging through the air as she stood behind the assasin, before his own master. She kept her head bowed, her hands hidden in the sleeves of her kimono as Lord Ikkiburro berated the assasin. Mocking him for being so weak minded and foolish.

"This... woman has your mind twisted, Taki. She is a witch with venom in her veins! Have you learned nothing of deception within these walls!"

He swallowed hard. He kept his head bowed. He would not speak. He knew the question was not one to be answered. His skin stung where his master had beaten him for his mistakes.

Just as Lord Ikkiburro was about to speak again, the assassin's lady came forward, her eyes deep with anger. But her face was as placid and smooth as peace.

"Lady Jyroe, stay back. This does not involve you."

"Like hell it does," she snapped, rolling up the sleeves of her kimono and turning her anger on the dojo's lord and master. "I see now why Master Yuen took pity on you so long ago, Lord Ikkiburro," she spat.

"You will make your woman keep her tongue," the lord said, rising from his chair. His wives scattered quickly, and his personal guards came to attention, ready to move at his word.

"He knew you were spineless, and without honor! And your final act against him only served to prove him right! I challenge you, Lord Ikkiburro! To the first blood, I challenge you to a duel."

"A woman-"

She opened her kimono, and ripped it from her shoulders, exposing her greatest secret for all to see. Beneath those robes, she wore nothing more than a cloth around her waist. Her skin smooth, her hair flowing and free, but her body betrayed all that she had made herself to be.

"I am no woman," she snapped, her voice never faltering, never shaking. But her fear that propriety once cloaked was exposed. She knew, should she fail this, she would be put to death for sure. "You must accept my challenge, or you are a coward who fears a mere excuse for a boy!"

"Jyroe, put your robes back on!" Taki snapped, picking them up and trying to cover her. "Pardon my Lady," he said, trying to beg forgiveness on her part. "She has had far too much sake this evening. She knows nothing of what she asks."

She pushed him away angrily. "I am Jyroe Iva, of the Middle Kingdom, Widower of Master Yuen Kotoba. Once more, I demand challenge, to attone for my husbands murder!"

Lord Ikkiburro grinned deviously, licking his lips as he slowly raised a hand to settle his guards. "You have three days and three nights to prepare. We will meet on the training ground on the fourth dawn."

"To the first blood."

He shook his head. "To the death."

What does blogging do for you?
Submitted by Madeleine Rose.

it's a form of self-therapy i suppose. since i have different blogs, i've got different versions of this "self-therapy" blogging lol.

i like to write, especially when i'm emotional (either very happy, excited, inspired, depressed, sad, etc.) and when i'm emotional i can get rather.... annoying to those around me. so, i log into the appropriate blog (this one if i want to write fiction, my normal one if i'm just going to rant and rave about something, etc.) to let off some of that excess emotion.

also, it's very cathartic. if i'm having issues with something, i can just let my mind loose on my blogs, and get it out of my system rather than say or do something to someone that i'll most likely regret later.

and lastly, it's sharing of knowledge, and getting creative criticism for my ideas, works, and issues. it's an amazing community, not just vox, or xanga, but all blogs, everywhere. one big community where i can retreat to when i've nothing better to do, or when i just need to say what's on my mind and actually have people listen to me.

i was clearing out some of my portfolios and ran across random non-art sheets of paper that had words scribbled all over them. here's the dribbles that were scribbled all over those papers that i'm going to throw away after posting this.

as always, enjoy. n.n

-------------------------------------------------

ROUGHT DRAFT - ANCIENT ANKI LEGEND (from the Reclaimation series)

Long ago man and woman walked the earth, equal under the great disk in the sky.

But then, one day, a cold wind from the south blew, and a freezing mist settled over the land. In fright, woman told man to protect her from the mist. He made a club, and went out into the mist, promising to woman that he would seek out its cause, and by destroying it, keep her safe.

--------------------------

"Artificial Intelligence?"

"No. This goes beyond that. Imgaine it, an entire person's memory, their life, their soul, compressed and catalogued onto one of these." He held up a square A-Drive disk. "Actual Intelligence."

"It's not possible!"

He nodded. "It is. You are regarded as the father of our entire society. With the technology you developed, we have transcended the need for a physical form. Once our bodies die, our souls have the ability now to remain here, transferring from one human shell to the next. We are, in this way, immortal."

"There is no such thing as immortality."

"True. Real immortality has not been achieved because you stole it. You locked it away for yourself. You call yourself a selfless man, but in fact everything you've done has always been for you alone."

--------------------

Many people describe what it's like to have their heart broken.

But what is it like to put it back, piece by piece?

Can you imagine it, feeling like you're always missing something? Never feeling quite whole.

How would it feel to finally find the last piece?

Would you want to put it back in place?

Could you?

------------------------------

He placed his hand against the door. His other hand remained in his pocket. He could feel the weight of his blaster in his hand. The smooth pommel of cold steel. He would go through with it. He must. He could not allow the suffering that was to come.

"What if you could get everything back?"

He pushed open the door. A tuft of gold falling into his eyes. Eyes colored green by the contacts he wore.

The bartender smiled, his bright yellow hair reaching up toward the ceiling. "What can I get ya?"

"Bourbon," he said. "On the rocks."

"What would you do if you could get it all back?"

He sipped his drink patiently. Today... today would be the day it would end. The world ahead did not have to become real. The demonic future would never come to pass...

"Get Joe. I know he's here. Tell him I know."

He had been planning this for years. Watching, waiting for the right moment. It took nearly a full decade to discover the moment that would forever change the lives of the two young men.

The tender reappeared with another man following close behind.

"Alright, where is he?"

His heart leapt when he heard that gruff, tired voice as the man looked around.

"So you're Joe," he said, turning around with his drink in hand. "I know your secret. I know the truth about you two."

"You don't know anything."

"I know everything about you, Joe," he said, his hand moving in his pocket. After a moment of hessitation, he let go. He removed his hand from his pocket, empty, and picked up his hat. He left the bar, and once he was in his cab, he broke into tears.

"What would you do if you could get it all back? Everything you ever lost?"

A few months later, the body of Lt. Marshall Ashton Danjuro was found dead outside an LA night club called Joe's Bar and Pool. Reports stated he had been killed in a barfight with the owners.

----------------------------------

"There is some truth in the Nightmare you have lived."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed. "Long ago, there were two men. One was named Tem Pike, his middle name had been Khayman. Khayman had been the name of an angel who turned his back on the teachings of the Light. Afterwards, he took on a new name with which to roam the darkness of existence. It was he who, in his search for meaning, created two blades known as Black Steel and White Steel. Black Steel he called the Shadow Sword, and White Steel he called the Blade of Mercy."

"Shinigami," he said softly.

"Yes. He would later be called Asaju, the SaintSinner."

"What of the other? Who had he been?"

The computerized face turned to an expression of repressed anguish. "He was the Dark One. Among the mortal coil, he was called Genki Domo. But his true name was unknown. He was called by many other names. The Corruptor, The Beast. Some called him Satan. You know him best as a man named Joe.

"When he rose to Earth, an angel was sent to seek out the one called Shinigami, who was to do battle with the Dark one. For he was the only angel who knew the Darkness, and could challenge it. And thus, the Dark One had been cast from the world, and sealed up in a nether-world of sorts, fated to remain in a state of purgatory for all eternity. The seal was created by the blood of the dark angel, Shinigami. And only by that blood may it be broken. When the Shinigami perished, his soul, despite his deeds against Genki, was never allowed to pass into Paradise. But because of those deeds, he was not allowed to enter into True Hell."

"He was a paradox saint."

"Yes. A SaintSinner. He established a sect of knights to carry on his work and protect the seal."

--------------------------------

"What are you?"

"I am an android. LAYLA UNIT 0 PROTOTYPE, CLASS Z, Password Protector."

"Password... that's right. Creator said we needed a password..."

"The Keys!"

"Right!" she exclaimed, pulling the ring from her finger. She looked closely at the inside engraving. "Pulvis et umbra sumas."

"We are but dust and Shadow," Kamikaze said.

She looked over her shoulder. "The Pike Family Creedo," she said. He nodded, pulling the chain from around his neck. He handed the pendant to the android, and her latex face smiled.

"The remaining keys?"

"I've got one here!"

Kamikaze turned around. "Reikoku!"

The Apok smiled, holding a green floppy between his index and middle fingers. As he closed the distance between them, he was unfastening the Sombrian uniform he wore. "God everything you need right here."

"Apok..."

"The Reverend wanted to be here, but he had a sudden RMR."

Kamikaze nodded, turning back to the two androids. "Let's do this."

Simultaneously, they nodded. Kamikaze took one last look at the smiling dullard before stapping himself into the chair beside him.

----------------------------

It's been years since this all started. Soon, it will end. Now I understand the task before me. Like I said before, it all comes down to FATE.

Fate, I have realized, is different than destiny. Fate is the end result of decisions made in life. Fate cannot be fortold; it cannot be guessed. It cannot be personified. It is only a varriable in the equations of Life and Death. Not good, not evil.

My fate, it seems, is to be caught up between suffering and peace. The decisons I have made, and those that have been made for me, have led to this.

Tomorrow, I will face the consequences of those decisions. I will not run. I will not hide.

Tomorrow, I will fight not for others, not for the world, nor even for the demon who has held my heart in his hands since we first med. I will fight to take back the life that had been taken from me, the life that had been my own.

And when the sun rises on the broken kingdom of Sombra the next morn, I will at last be at peace.

Wait fror me, my beloved. I will come back for you soon.

this is a REALLY BIG NOTEBOOK! that's why it's being broken up into so many parts. again, if some of these have been posted before, sorries! read them again and enjoy. n.n

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"My soul is so ancient. My true name has been lost to time. I was the first truly free man on Earth. I was the first mortal born with free will. Born with the abilities more advanced than mere instinct. This gift I shared with others. But they feared it, for they could not comprehend. I made for them tools and devices to make their lives better. For this, they believed me a god, come to earth to bring them gifts. History calls me Prometheus. The people called me Deus Ex Machina."

"why?"

"Long ago, there was only one language among man. Latin. Then I came, and brought to them many tongues, and many things. I had lived before, with monsters and noblemen. Among queens and priests and lowly peasants."

"But how? How'd you do those things?!"

"Because he was no mere mortal man. He is the remants of a lost evolutionary mistake. You know him as Temmothy. Others known him as Prometheus. And the gods call him the Shadow."

"What? No! This can't be true! Tem, tell me it isn't true!"

"The mortal Shinigami line began with him. He was a rebel, and refused to acknowledge the superiority of the gods. We cast him out of the Heavens, and he went to the Kingdom of Before Times. Into Hades. He made a pact with the ancient Dragon King. Tell him. Tell him what you did!"

"Tem?"

He was silent, then, he lifted his head. The expression on his face was one of determination. "I went to Hades, and sought out the Morning Star. What I found was a kingdom of tollerance and knowledge. Beings like minded to myself. I made a deal with the Dragon King."

"what was that deal?" the god pressed. "Tell him what deal you struck."

He drew in a deep breath. "I gave up my godhood. In exchange, the Master of Death gave my soul no expiration date."

"Tell him why."

"So that I could hide away, dissapear from the sight of gods like you! So I could find others, and teach them, and train them to fight and use the powers of gods for themselves!"

"and why did you do those things? For what purpose?"

"To create an army of men. To build an army so powerful that they could drive the gods out of the heavens, and prove that mankind is it's own master!"

"One man. One mortal man against a legion of gods. How... quaint..."

His head lowered in recognition of defeat, but his smirk was not wiped off his face. "Not just one man. All men. My man," he said softly.

Joe moved, climbing the altar upon which the crucifix stood. He stopped half-way up and looked upon this man. This ancient soul that had only sought to better the world, to give man a fighting chance in a world govnerned by only a handful of beings. "You have so many names... so many lives and worlds... but to me, you're just Tem. My idiot husband, my other half."

"Joe," he whispered. "You should not have come. Go, save yourself while you still can."

"I would listen to him, mortal. I'm willing to let you leave if you submit to us. Don't be like the Shadow here and do something you'll regret later."

Joe climbed. He climbed the altar, even as the invisible wall of force tried to push him back down. At last, he came to the top, and he tried to cut the wires that kept his mate suspended and bound.

"Leave me, this is my punishment," he whispered.

"Never again," Joe replied.

"I tire of this game," the god said, waving his hand. Joe was flung down, and pushed along the floor. He was lifted, and thrown through a stone pillar.

He lay, a crumpled mass on the earthen floor as the god smiled, looming closer. "How noble of you, trying to rescue a wretch like him."

"Joe!" he screamed, thrashing against his bonds. "Leave him alone!"

"It seems I've hit a nerve. What will you do to me if I kill him?"

"You worm!" he screamed, pulling against the wires, ignoring the searing pain they sent through his body as they sliced through his flesh.

Joe lay immobile on the ground, his body broken but his mind in a rage as he heard the terror screams.

"Joe" a voice whispered. "Joe, get up."

"I can't move."

"Joe. You can."

"Who are you?"

A face appeared in his mind's eye. The face of a man, a beautiful, familiar man. "Joe," he said, and Joe could feel hands lifting him, holding him. "You can do this. We can do this," he whispered in his ear.

"Tem?"

"No," he said softly. "I am not. But he needs you."

The face changed as it smiled, but the eyes... The eyes remained the same.

"Who... what are you?"

"You are no longer Domo. You are not Shinigami. You are something new, something... unique. Rise, Joe, and spread your wings."

His eyes opened, and he groaned. He could feel a strangeness in him, as if each broken fragment inside his body were mending itself back together.

"Spread yor wings..."

He climbed to his feet, staggering as his limp arms suddenly regained feeling. He felt something surge within him, and his flesh felt cool and hot al at once.

"That's it... Now choose your weapon."

He smiled, and his eyes, something in his eyes spoke of something more, something powerful... Deep within his black eyes there raged a violent flame. And then, he put his hands out before him, and a single sword appeared in them.

Two snakes. One red and one blue, coiled around a white steel shilt. And protruding from the guard a black blade.

"You are not Domo. You are not Shinigami. You are Daemonicus!" the voice shouted, and Joe roared, his eyes transformed. The violent flame turned from red to violet, and simmered to a cool lavender.

"Turn and face me!" he screamed.

"This cannot be!" the god gasped.

What he saw was a strange thing indeed. A mortal man eminating the light of a god. His body framed by a pair of mechanical wonders... mechanical wings.

"You dare defy me!" the god shouted.

And the man called by many names smiled. "Daemonicus... my mortal General..."

------------------------

RANDOM RECLAIMATION EPPILOGUE IDEA "THE PROPHESY OF THE DAEMONICUS"

a man with no past and no future will be born. his spirit will splinter under the weight of demonic posession. and he will suffer needlessly. there will come a time when the man must choose to walk in darkness or walk in shadow.

margin note: joe has to choose between tem [darkness] and naomi [shadow]

should he choose shadow, he will become one of the world's most powerful enemies. he will rape the land. and rain destruction on his path. but he will not be free.

should he choose darkness, his path will become more perilous. he will be struck down time and again, and will never be at peace. but he will be a free man.

it is in the darkness this man must go to find enlightenment and salvation. and in darkness he will find the one who forsakes the Light. together, the man and the forsaker will go down the path for a time. but this time will not be made easy. one will confront the Betrayer. and the other will lose his life.

shadow will consume the man, and he will become a creature of Hate and Rage. but the Light will overtake the shadow, and the man will sleep...

it is in this sleep that changes will take place. he will begin to transform into -and that's all the author has on that one. just sort of cuts off here.-

---------------------------

NOTE: the following was random rp inspired, but IS NOT CANON (well, mostly not. n.n')

Al woke up more sore than he had ever felt in his life. Carefully, he disentangled himself from last night's lover and crept into the bathroom. His head was groggy, he was hungover. And the fact that he didn't really remember where he was at the moment was going to prove to be a problem... possibly.

He took only a quick shower, not even bothering to get dressed. His stomach growled, so he slipped into the kitchen, trying to find something to eat. Slowly, realization sank in when he stopped to stare at the fridge, finding himself staring at, well, himself. Well, a picture of himself, and his friends.

"Oh hell..." he mumbled, his stomach grumbled again. He found some eggs, and decided to fry them.

///

"what the hell are you doing here!" Sam shouted.

"Makin breakfast. I thought ye'd be hungry after last night," Al replied, cracking an egg into the skillet.

Sam grunted dissaprovingly as he threw himself on the couch. "What the hell did you put in my dinner?"

"Nothin. We ate out, remember?" al said, whistling in the kitchen.

"I vaguely remember sushi and sake..." Sam grumbled. "It gets fuzzy after that..."

"I just used the oldest trick in the book. Saltwater eel is more potent than viagra ya know, and a lot safer ta use too. Don't 'ave ta worry 'bout the four hour hard on."

Sam was silent, listening to his friend before his blind eyes widened. He turned around, nearly climbing over the back of the couch angrily. "You WHAT! Rapist!"

"I am not. An keep it down. Don't wanna go wakin up the boys this damn early. Lord knows what they're like in the mornin," he said. "Besides, wakin up this sore, I'd say ye was the one all grabby hands, not me."

////

note: random randy and al fight, before divorce

"He's my best friend. What, I'm not allowed ta see my friends anymore?"

"NOT with the sort YOU have, Alabaster."

"Oh come on! We're both tops! What in the hell do ye think'll happen?!"

"You're stronger than he is. You'd overpower him easy if you wanted to. Make him a bottom."

Al shook his head with a groan. There was no getting through to Randy, not after he's had 7 martinis, and Al knew it. He punched between his eyes. "Randy, he was raped in Mexico. Violently. Even, hypothetically, if I wanted, there's no fuckin way. No way he'd do it. That's one thing he'd fight me over. It wouldn't work. Period."