0 comments on "is it weird to say that I feel powerful?"

There’s been a great emotional upset, and I feel a bit tired and scared, but is it weird to say that I feel powerful too? Because it’s like the rules don’t apply to me anymore.

It gives me an almost weightless feeling.

There’s lots of work to be done if we want our country to survive the upcoming troubles, but it’s okay. We’re strong. We’re going to stay strong. And when we come out the other side… we’re going to be stronger still.

The only thing I worry about is all the people dwelling in misery and despair bringing down the younger generation. There’s children that have literally known no other President than Obama. They’re not ready for an evil man in office, and with the way people have shrugged off what’s happening around the world, they’ve been kept insulated by bad jokes told by people that don’t have enough awareness to be terrified.

But they will be.

And that’s what frightens me and makes me sad. Children and teens are going to start looking around and realize what their parents and grandparents have done to them. That there was almost a country where everyone had equal rights and everyone could find their place — and it’s most likely been taken away from them.

Because laws are going to be written. Things are going to be said. Violence will happen.

And rather than being able to shrug and say “Well, we’ve got four years to live through. Another lame duck Presidency” it’s going to be “Oh shit, these assholes have rewritten ALL the laws. We’re going to be screwed for decades.” And that sucks.

Because my nephew is sad and I don’t know how to tell him it’s all right.

I don’t know how to explain why I’m so relieved that he can pass for White. That he doesn’t look Asian like me, my sister, or my brothers.

That he’s not his cousin, who is half-White, who self-identifies as White, but who looks Black.

And it sucks that at 13-years-old, he is too young to have a frame of reference for what’s happened to our country.

That racism, sexism, bigotry, and xenophobia have won the battle — but will not win the war.

Because we are strong. And we will come through stronger.

Hogfather at Amazon
0 comments on "Window shopping: ceramic tile cutters; “365 Prompts”; NaNoWriMo"

I’ve been looking into getting a pair of ceramic tile cutters. One of those handheld tools that looks like a rotary can opener. But I’m not sure what kind I would need.

I want to be able to cut old ceramic plates into different sized pieces to make a mosaic backsplash for the kitchen.

^above^
These are the two cutters I was looking at on Amazon. There wasn’t a very wide variety to choose from (only 7!). Still, these two look like either one would meet my needs okay (~_~;).

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“365 Prompts” is coming out December 10th, but will be available for pre-order after November 14th.

“What is it?” you ask. Well, “365 Prompts” is a collection comprising 365 subjects, each with three accompanying prompts. Which makes it great for anyone looking for a quick story idea, thought experiment, or creative writing subject.

So, you know, yay!

Plus it creates a handy reference when I post a story titled something like “Prompt Fill: 192. mushroom 2A[1]” without any further introduction. And it gives people something to request prompts from (“Can you give us a ‘Prompt 056. chainsaw 3A’?”).

* * *

I’m half-heartedly participating in NaNoWriMo this year. I’ve only got a very very few words written for my entry, which even this early makes me think that I’m not going to win 2016 ;_;

Though who knows, I might throw together a collection of short stories that consists of 50k. That would be neato.

Anyways, if you’re participating in National Novel Writing Month, I wish you luck that you win the year. Fighting!

==

[1] Prompt Fill: 192. mushroom 2A

Unsure whether he was hallucinating, he stared at the tiny creatures and their mushroom house village.

The mushrooms had sprouted after the rain and were arranged in a loose circle next to the stump he used for chopping wood. Inch tall humanoid creatures were moving around the mushrooms, walking upright on their back legs while their forelegs and paws were used to burrow into the mushroom stems to create hollows they were climbing in and out of.

As he watched, one of the creatures chewed and swallowed several chunks of mushroom stem. Its sharp teeth flashed as the mouth worked the mushroom flesh. It ate and ate until its stomach was swollen and full. Then its body jerked and vomited up a long stream of greenish pulp that nearby creatures gathered up and began applying to the outside of the mushroom houses.

“What…” He rubbed his hand over his face and leaned closer to the screen.

He’d set up the CCTV cameras after several small thefts around the property. He’d thought it was kids messing around.

Yet now he was watching as strange little creatures used his missing Phillips head screwdriver to dig furrows in the dirt. Furrows that looked a lot like the beginnings of a garden.

[/1]

Kakushigoto 01 at Amazon
0 comments on "H&V: Kanon vs Canon"

I’ve done a cruel thing to Canon Seth/Sunfire and Tony/Teen Steel/Steel Fury. Because of Warrick, Sonic Pulse survived for her reappearance in “Pulse of the City[1].” That’s the most obvious thing different.

But there were also the differences in how the Behemoth situation were handled, the events of “Tuesday Night” where Sunfire and Teen Steel spend a bunch of time together, and the reminder that they’re mortal–something the Canon Sunfire and Teen Steel never experienced.

These two guys are very important in All That Remains. (That’s all I’m going to say about that.)

*

[1] The reason all of “Pulse of the City” is written in first person POV is because Ashley doesn’t even realize how other people perceive her.

She realizes that she doesn’t see herself as Sonic Pulse. So when she puts on her uniform, she forces herself to be a harder person than she naturally is.

I think that her time out of costume gave her a sense of perspective. Just not soon enough.

(Ashley has a whole story arc to her – “Pulse of the City”, “The Dark Harts”, “Beating Harts At Night” – and her family. And not just Evan[2].)

*

[3] I think I’ve been cruelest to Evan most of all. He’s been fucked with, fucked over — and as a result he is a stewing bottle of rage. And in the Kanon-verse, because events never took place, the festering wounds in his mind were never cleansed.

He gets sidelined in “Tuesday Night”, which results in him being part of the raising of his grandson, and he finds a new happiness … But he also gets kicked out of being a superhero. And he eventually goes in and has certain sections of his brain biomechanically altered to control his rage-induced pyrokinetic psychopathy.

He doesn’t want to kill people.

But when he loses control…

Bad things happen. And the people he loves are left to pick up the pieces.

He’s happier without having to make those actions. Enjoys the life that he lives and the people he shares it with.

But sometimes …

Sometimes he wonders.

What would the world look like if the whole thing burned?

Heroes & Villains at Amazon
1 comment on "Excerpt “All That Remains” – from Chapter Five"

Title: All That Remains – excerpt Chapter Five
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: superhero. science fiction. action. mm.

EXCERPT-

They didn’t get to enjoy the afterglow for even five minutes before someone rang the front doorbell. Then rang it again, and again, and again, before leaving their finger on the button for a long time.

One look at Vereint’s darkening expression had Warrick climbing out of bed. “I’ve got it.”

He pulled on a pair of black sweatpants and a loose gray tee shirt.

“No underwear?” Vereint asked.

“I don’t care if whoever that is sees me free-balling,” Warrick said.

“But it might be one of Nicky’s friends. Put on your robe,” Vereint ordered. Then rolled on his stomach and burrowed his face into his pillow. “I’mma sleep now.”

Warrick rolled his eyes fondly. “If you weren’t so cute…” He picked his robe up off a chair and slipped his arms in the sleeves, tying the belt as he left the bedroom and padded barefoot down the stairs.

Whoever was on the porch rang the doorbell again.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming!” Warrick called. He could feel himself getting irritated. His evening with Vereint was being spoiled by this interruption.

He forced himself not to jerk the door open. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a broken front door. Instead he —-purposely—- turned the knob and opened the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked the delivery man in a frosty tone.

“It’s a good thing you’re here. I was about to leave.” The guy proferred a clipboard. “I need a signature, please.”

Warrick took the clipboard but didn’t sign until the delivery man showed him the package with Vereint’s assumed name on the label. Then he scrawled a signature on the digital paper and exchanged the clipboard for the loaf of bread-sized box.

“Thanks,” he growled, then slammed the door and locked it. He waited until he heard the truck start up and drive away before carrying the package upstairs to Vereint.

“Who was it?” Vereint asked when Warrick came in the room.

“A delivery for you.” Warrick set the box on the bed and began stripping back down. He wasn’t giving up a rare opportunity to lounge naked.

“Hedonist,” Vereint teased. He didn’t lift his head from his pillow, just reached out a hand to snake the box across the covers toward himself. He fumbled at the tape with one hand, eventually pulling it off the lid in one strip.

Warrick climbed into his side of the bed and sat with his back against the headboard. His pillow was somewhere on the floor. “What’d you get?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“So it could be a bomb, and you’re opening it on our bed?”

“Yes.” Vereint fumbled the box lid open and tilted it toward Warrick. “What’s in there?”

Warrick reached out to move the brown packing paper out of the way. “It looks like a creepy doll. Is someone going to try and serial kill us now?”

Vereint snorted. “I’d like to see someone try.” He lifted the doll out of the box by its head, tilting it so he could get a good look. “Hm. That is creepy. Who’s it from?”

Warrick glanced at the widely smiling bald ceramic head with the hand and foot-less white cloth body and fought a shudder. He looked at the outside of the box, then the inside. He even flipped it over to show there was nothing inside.

“There’s no name,” he said. “Someone went out of their way to send you a creepy doll anonymously. Strange and suspicious.”

Vereint rolled over and sat up, the bedcovers pooling over his bare lap. He picked up the doll with both hands and examined it closely. “Whoever made this knows how to sew, yet purposely made it look amateurish. It’s a taunt.”

“What–“

Vereint whipped the doll around by one leg and smacked the head against his night table. The head cracked apart, a small slip of paper falling out.

Vereint snatched the paper out of the air and spread it open. “‘I know who you are,'” he read aloud. “What the shit is this?”

/end excerpt

*

Wanna know who these guys are before reading “All That Remains”? Check them out first in “Heroes & Villains“, then follow it up with “Allies & Enemies.”