*Wanted Partner in Crime* (not literally)

It takes me foreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeever to write and edit my own work.

I’d love to find someone who wants to write, but needs an ideafactory (me)

I want to start so many stories maybe actually start the old ones  I’m literally the story teller type where I can blab on and on about a story, but can’t seem to write it down.

(At least my younger cousins are never board when I’m around…)

I really hate this weakness of mine. I CAN write, but it’s painfully slow… because I have to translate it into good enough literature.

Anybody interested please comment. Maybe we could try a thing? I have tons of story ideas. Although some most  need a filter before going into writing we could try out a short story?

I don’t mind if it’s temp and we do only one story together either way it’d be a thing to try.


“That’s Not My Name!”- names, power and secrecy in Faery

British Fairies


Tam Lin, by Joanna Barnum.

“They forget my name

They call me Hel,

They call me Stacey,

They call me her,

They call me Jane

That’s not my name”

The Ting Tings, ‘That’s not my name’, 2008

In the traditional Scottish ballad of Tam Lin, a handsome human boy has been abducted to Elfland to serve in the fairy queen’s retinue.  His sweetheart, Janet, agrees to help save him and bring him home but he warns her of the obstacles she will face in attempting this.  The fairies will change his form to try to scare her, but additionally he advises her:

“First, they did call me Jack, he said,

And then they called me John,

But since I lived in the fairy court

Tomlin has always been my name.”

These lines very strongly imply that, as part of his kidnapping and detention, a change…

View original post 806 more words

Chapter three: Name exchange

Author’s notes:  Sorry this is what you get for now. I’ll edit it later….much later. dialogue is just so much easier for me @.@”

it reminds me of my roleplaying chatroom days/shot


I felt really warm and comfortable. Nothing like the painful days I had been enduring. It wasn’t  the scorching fire that I’d feverishly suffer from every other night. No it felt kind, like it recognized  me, it was sorry, for it was also me, but they or he had been trapped and had been fighting  to reach me. It had been just as painful for him. But now we were us. And I was soothed as if I was in a warm embrace. …


I opened my heavy eyelids to see a two glimmering sky  blue eyes in front of mine.




“Well that was a cute noise”


The Dan-No the Nagahis he practically purred as threaded his fingers through my hair. And I felt my face heat up from not only being teased but from remembering What my “Key” was. The fact that He was still holding me in his embrace did not help either.


I tried to escape his grasp,but he just held me a little tighter. I was stronger now, but he was still stronger.


“I suppose us Nagahis do infact ‘Peep’ as chicks afterall~”


“What are you? … Oh… can you let go me now?”


“Mmm don’t want to~”


“P-please? ….Master? Nagahis Sir?”


“Pfft, Okay! Also you don’t have to call me master. Although that does have a nice ring to it. Should I have you call me that after all?”


“No! Pleeease No! Gods No!” (D:<)  (>:T)


“Wow! You sure are lively now that you’ve awakened~ My names Azura, just Azura~ As members of a long-lived group with very little people we have no need of last names.”


“H-hello Sir. Azura, My name is—”

He presses a finger to my lips.


“I already know your old Name, but don’t you think you need a new one now? For you new life? I’m sure you can think of a better name than that. Not that it’s a bad name for a normal man, but not for a Nagahis.

Don’t you think?”


He had a point. Although I could do without him making excuses to touch my face. He wasn’t so touchy feely till he searched my mind for the “key”?

What the Hell did he find in there? (e.e|||)   


After some thought, I turned to the colour of the light in my mind and soul when I united with myself. It would match… with the names of the other members too. Plus it will remind me of my roots…

“How does Acchai sound?”


“Perfect! I like it, it suits you”


“I’m not sure if I want to trust your judgement about that…”


“Well too late~ that’s what I’m going to be calling you my apprentice from now and forever after~”


I somewhat still feel like getting eaten is a possibility…

Chapter Two: A different point of Veiw

When I first saw them I thought the army had brought back slaves, but there was only one. This puzzled me, it was only until the shear amount of chains he was dragging came into view that I realized that the original mission was a success, and the army had captured a Danavas just like the warriors bragged while I served them the slosh cook called dinner.

He looked young at a distance even younger than me. His features were still delicate like that of a boy. His face still round, eyes large, and arms slender. It was no wonder the beast could easily spy our caravans and forts; he could have easily passed as a shepherd boy, a beggar, or a son on his first adventure.

Not to mention, that his fair skin was a near match to our people. His hair was brown, but that was one of the few traits our peoples shared.

Once the army’s march grew closer I could see the differences. He was not what he seemed at a distance, but then I imagine he had nothing to hide of his true nature now that he was chained.

His hair shined deep crimson in the sunlight as if aflame, and his eyes glowed an unsettling blue, the very color of the endless sky. The very same colors the army banners flew. It felt so unsettling seeing those eyes. I felt as if they saw right through me. It made me shiver. I had to move back through the crowd gathering and head back to the kitchens.

At the very least, I knew they wouldn’t bring the beast there.

Little did I know that the commander planned on using a kitchen boy like cheese in a trap. Thinking that my death screams would be good warning for the beasts escape.

Haranatai: Chapter 1 Eggs for lunch?

I know in a way making a potential enemy forcibly an ally is a bit underhanded in most circumstances, but it’s better he awakens when I’m here, then later when I’m not.


His expression froze when I bent open the chains, and I think I looked pretty impressive, but I think his amazement is lost in his fear. For he is pressed against two of his greatest fears. Lucky for him I’m friendly and unlike the stories say, carnage is not all I’m good at.


“So when is breakfast?”

I stretch slowly trying to get the kinks out of my back.


“It is lunchtime” the words fall out of his lips like he can’t believe he said them.


“Ah, I must have slept longer than I thought” I sigh, they had caught me unaware last night. It was kind of embarrassing. I had been thinking about the food back home and a nice warm bath when they ambushed me. It’s kind of sad when you lack so much confidence in your men that you use an army to ambush one measly spy on their way home, but I’m not exactly measly when I get serious I suppose.


I step slowly toward my would-be personal warden. He doesn’t move, but shivers like a leaf in the wind. I lean over, and his eyes flare a deep green. “We’ll have to work on that.” I mumble  breathing evenly and close my eyes. I sense him fully for the first time. He’s bare, with nothing protecting him from my search. He merely shies away from the touch of my mind as if it shocks him. When I find what I’m looking for I almost don’t recognize it. His key isn’t quite what I’d call normal. I slip out the same way I came.


He’s still staring at me when I’m back. His eyes aglow and shivering. Lucky for him, what I’m about to do will make him warm. I take a breath and taste the words before I say them.

“You would awaken even without me you know. The power would at first trickle out of you like it does out of your eyes, but it would slowly build till it raged out of you.” He shudders harder at the words, his fists clench, and for once his eyes look at me with a glimmer of hope, not fear. The fear was still there though.


I gesture to the outside. I can take you away from them as well. Our kind are treated well where I come from. You would have a place there with us. A place you belong.” I had him there. The hope overtook the fear. He stood up. “What do I need to do?” He gestured toward the outside. “Besides, help you get out of here.”


I smiled softly at him. In a way I hoped wouldn’t set him cowering again. “I need you to become my apprentice and I need you to promise to stand still for a moment so I can awaken you.”


He squinted at me and drew a step back hunching his shoulders a tad. “I thought your kind dan-y-your kind didn’t take apprentices” he made face, ” You just mate with whomever, and you crawl out whole out of eggs that break them to lay.”

I had to laugh at that. Just the flash of the picture of Civa or Kal peeping like goslings as they tear out of eggs was quite funny. He had taken a step back. “Sorry” I wipe my eyes, shake my head, and I grin. “You silly goose!” I had to pause, because I was in danger of another bout of laughter.

“You don’t remember hatching out of an egg do you? ”


He shook his head slowly from left to right. “No I suppose not, and the stories say I’d be dead already too…”


“Good! You would be the first of our kind to be hatched if you were. So do you agree? You must stay with me if you do, and I’d teach you.”


He took a shaky step forward and then another steady one and nodded. “Yes, I agree to help you out of here and to be your apprentice.”


“Don’t forget to stand still. I need to awaken you, and you must agree to that.”


He blinked both eyes slowly. “Yes, I agree to allow you to awaken me. Do you need my blood?” He seemed braver now, and the shadows of fear in his eyes had all but disappeared.


I shook my head. “No just standing still, but to be honest, awakening is different for everyone. It’s written on the face of our minds for others of our kind to read and free us.” I remembered my own well. “Mine needed me to be to read from a certain book. Luckily yours can be done here and now. You ready?”


He nodded and I stepped close. He didn’t move as promised. I quickly tilted my head the right, his left, and gently kissed the side of his neck. He shivered, went limp, and I had to catch him in my arms. It was going to be awhile before he woke up. I should have thought to ask him to get lunch first.

Haranatai: The Awakening Begins Prologue

I found myself in a dungeon. Not one that adventurers love to explore, but one you would find prisoners & criminals in. The kind of dungeon you would never find my kind in. The wall my arms were chained to was roughly dug, and half frozen water droplets dripped from cracks in the stone above my head. It was poor workmanship at best, and half-done at that.

I almost felt bad for the poor fools when I noticed that instead of the iron of my people; there was but thick brass chains wrapped around my limbs. Till I realized that in front of the boulder that acted as the seal on my prison; there was a young man guarding my way out.

He must have felt my look on him, for he then spoke. “Don’t even think about it Danavas” He spat on the dirt floor, “they have a troop of men outside standing guard, as well as me, and you won’t be fed if I’m dead.”

I pulled lightly at the chains and sat up to get a better look at him. His voice sounded even, in defiance of the fact that he was hugging his knees and shivering, but let’s say the shivering was from the cold. I pitied the man. He was admittedly young. He had long dark hair and rich caramel skin, and still his eyes shined green in the darkness. He would have stood out amongst the fairer northern thugs that passed as warriors among their people.

“So I’m to suppose you’re either a brave warrior or a disposable pawn. They must be naïve either way”

He leaned back, closer toward freedom with a soft audible thump. His eyes wide bringing more light to his face. He wasn’t bad looking I surmised, and his eyes were something else entirely; my easy way out.

I grinned, all teeth.” You are one of my kind, a Nagahis” I paused to bend open the locks on my chains. “And I’m awakening you.”

Strays: Cops,Robbers, and Cat burglars.

This a story I wrote for college last year and from a series of short stories I’m still developing.

I figured I’d post it because I realized my blog is empty and sad looking.

Note that this is one of the few stories I’ve written that has curse words. 

I don’t curse but Dog does :/


The heavy wooden door creaked open, and its bells gave alarm that another repeat customer was tired and ready to become drunk before sundown. It was a man in his late 30’s, he trounced into bar as if he owned the place, and took the best seat in the house; the one closest to the taps in the very center of bar. His nest of dark brown hair had the start of steel veins, and as he scratched his unshaven face with dirty fingernails; he sighed and slumped an inch closer to the bar inviting the tenders ear. Murray leaned closer despite the Dog’s hygiene, and grabbed a fresh glass, and poured some of the strong stuff that would keep the man talking for hours.

“What brings ya to the hole in the hole in the wall again Dog?” Murray said grabbing an abandoned glass from the seat next to the man and polishing it with his favourite rag.

“Had a case that nipped me like fleas on my backside till I scratched it raw, so I thought I’d take a dip here, and lick my wounds.”

“So them uppers tangled your leash again Dog? Or did a rat finally get away unscathed from ya?” the bartender winked at the Dog knowing he had a soft spot for rats that scratched his belly just right.

“ A bit of both keeper of liquid moonlight. I’ll wag if you give me seconds.”

Murray sighed “You’re on your fifth ya already mutt, so pay up and yap.”  The bartender grabbed another glass, destined for the growing pile, and filled it to the brim. Before Dog could speak the Tender dramatically cupped his left hand down against the cool steel of the Bartop; the gesture meant listen “And hurry up, there are others with appointments”.  Others would be listening.

Dog growled which he corrected into a cough, gulped down half the glass, and began as he sank backwards into his odd mix matched three legged stool with a cushioned chair back; any carpenter or designer would have muffled a sob at the sight of the horrid thing, but there would be none of either in the bar.

Anyways it started with that string of break-ins up in Upper city. The twads was leaving their fancy dirigible doors open again while they threw their annual Sky Ball. Idiot’s right? They think they’re literally too high and mighty to be stolen from, but when the Lowers see a chance they won’t think a second thought about the fall they might take for trying. So while all the other Dogs was chasing their tails and sniffing about the all too terrible crash that happened during the Ball; I was doing some real detective work. Well it was more or less just me finding a rat and shaking him till he spilled another one, and then shaking that one and so on. The trail led to a lower city apartment at old mall in shopping district and held the not unusual arrangement of two families and a supposed ex-rat.

As you know, Lower city as the locals call it was once the ground floor of operations here. According to history books, if you believe those, it had once been a hive of activity, and with all classes of people mingling together on foot, but that was when everyone was 100% homeo sapien. Anyways I found myself walking among the once grand ruins of skyscrapers, and now a cesspool of near pitch darkness, garbage, and unregistered families. Dark due to the Uppers use of catwalks blocking all but the feint used electric light from Middletown; due to that damn crippling taxes on even the most basic power sources like electricity.  As I approached shopping district I could see the showy outline of mall apartments and imagine how nice it might have been once upon a time. The place looked about a mere 4 stories but was a monstrous waste of space being what felt like a mile wide, and hell it might even be that wide given that pre-bio people didn’t save no space at all. The city itself is proof of that. Anyways back when it was built it must have nice, and judging from all the plywood and board and whatever else covering the entire face of it; it must have been almost entirely been made of bloody glass, and that meant that the families living there must be the poorest of the poor. One storm or war or the likes and they’d all be gone the poor saps.

So I found myself in front of the crumbling decrepit monster of a building, “mall” they called it, that served home to at the very least over 10000 families; I made sure to turn my flasher a dial wider and dance it around by its cord handle so that it lit the crevices in my vicinity. Not to mention it made a great club in a pinch. I can’t smell rats as well as those who traded to be a real dog, but I’ve never been taken off guard by a rat, and I didn’t want to start in the maze of market tent like apartments.

When I finally reached the 4 1/2 floor, 2nd floor of Jcpenny “apartments”, and 52th room; a set of numbers I’d come up with myself while finding the place, by asking around, and seeing the old store’s charred sign hanging crooked above the section.

Deeper in the dark maze of patch work ply board and steel walls; I was actually caught off guard on a hunt for once. It’s funny almost, the thing is they were expecting a visit and even had some steaming something that looked like caffeine ready for me.

The hole in the wall that was the living room I suppose, was over crowded with belongings, all scavenged of course. The only cleared area was around a makeshift table of crates and some mismatched cushions to sit on; a couple of homemade candles lit the room making murky shadows on the cloth walls. Apparently one of their kids was missing, a boy from one family, and there had been an attempt on the girl, from the other, afterwards. And so I found myself being served a dark brownish bitter liquid in a chipped teacup on a battered green cushion.

The two mothers wiped each other’s tears with their skirts as they each clattered down trays filled with hard biscuits and a small gathering of condiments such as cream, and sugar. The fathers sat on opposite sides of the table, on either side of me quietly watching their wives. I had wondered in passing if the wives were twin sisters and the husband’s in-laws to each other; for both women had the same round faces, sculpted noses, and mouse brown hair worn braided and pinned on opposite sides their heads. Their quilted and patched dresses mere long layered tunics, which held the same pattern, but different pigments seemed to support the belief; patterns being clan specific.

“So” I said letting the cup kiss its saucer with a little tap. “When did ya boy go missing? And how was the girl attempted upon?” my words seemed to echo and permeate through the room; I had leaned on my lower city accent here hoping it would comfort the couples if only a little. I wonder if it also permeated the paper thin walls and that the other families in the old mall apartments. How far up? And how many words did they catch? Either way they’d only hear one of their own had gone missing, and they probably knew that already. As the saying goes word hits the ground running.

“…The boy left for the mounds last Friday. It was Sera’s birthday.” The red-haired father on the right looked down at his crossed mechanical arms and watched its gears turning.

“which side?”

“West egg” he grunted at his gears

“SHIT!!” I stood up upsetting the makeshift table, the trays, my caffeine, the two mothers, and a fucking partridge in a pear tree. I would have anyways had there been any trees left in lower city. “Shit” I said again as I righted the table and trays, but I’m afraid the caffeine couldn’t be brought back from the dead. West egg mounds is not a place for a kid to be. It’s the underbelly of the underbelly of this city; West egg is the oldest and highest dump in the city, meaning it has buried treasure under the muck if you know where to look, but it’s the hunting grounds for every God damn thing that goes bump in the night. The lowers themselves only go there if they’re desperate for junk parts or aren’t that fond of their organs and their own parts anyway. The shadows that haunt the west egg mounds aren’t afraid of the dark, because they’ve traded their humanness to see in it, and they’ll trade another fellows and their soul while they’re at it just for a few extra shiny bits.

Not to mention that East egg the largest bio-tech factory in the city definitely fished from West egg’s pond. The kid I thought would have been cloned, half gazelle, dead, or worse made into some pet for some Upper’s kid to play with. At least that’s what I thought till I went outside after talking to the red-haired daughter, and sudde—

A fifteen are so kid with a round face and brown hair caused the doorway’s sensor to ring the bell as he jogged in. Murray and the Dog glared at him for different reasons; Murray had a strictly no one 20 and under policy that wasn’t required in bars anymore, but Murray practiced anyway due to belief and tradition, and besides from being interrupted Dog soon explained his.

“Pup! You Fucking mutt you interrupted the event’s leading to your rescue!”

“I don’t recall being rescued, Sir. I recall kicking both Upper and Rat tail, Sir. Message Sir.” The kid’s eyes flashed in the electric light; they held, Murray could see, that sharp pupils split his green eyes in half.

“Stop being a Proper Ass Pup. You sound like some Upper’s Pet. Damn Cats” the last part Dog muttered for Murrays ears, but the Kid couldn’t have not heard even standing all proper and prim a few yards away.

Murray sighed and looked at the large pile of glasses Dog had emptied. He waved from Dog to the bar a “be back” with his fingers fanned. “ Ya can go Dog, but you must explain one thing first.”

“What would that be, Sir Tender.” The Catty-Pup said eyes wide and a hint of one corner of his mouth twitching. Murray ignored him, and looked straight at Dog.

“Ya, the force gave me the runt as a gift for case and catching Fat Rats who were trading with dirty Uppers and East egg. Not like it will stop, and not like I want a Pup to housetrain. I least of all wanted a Catty one; which is ironic due to what they did to him. They probably expected him to finally fucking shut up, and roll over and be a pet” Dog glared at his new trainee, and the Pup shrugged looking everything like the cat that swallowed the canary.

“We have to go now, Sir.” The Pup finally regained a serious look about him.

“What is it now? More useless Shit? I’m not in the mood” Dog was also slightly buzzed; judging by his language Murray thought as he shined another glass.

“The Mayor is Dead again, Sir.”

“Shit! Again? How many times do I have to tell the bastard to stop visiting places in person? It won’t make no one like him any more than they already do. I suppose it can’t wait then.”

As the Dog’s left Murray wished a bit that he was young of body again. Things of all sorts had a way of happening one after another in the city of Strays, and he fancied that in some small way by hearing the tales he was a gear in the cog of events of the city.