Excerpt

For some reason I can’t log in to my LiveJournal with Semagic. I’m hoping LJ is down. I would lose my mind if I couldn’t use my Semagic to post to LJ.

Anyways, here’s two things by me:
Allen the Alien
Harsh Buzz

*

Watching the episode of Futurama where Fry is basically ET to Lrrr’s son’s Eliot. This show always gets me thinking and is like total inspiration fuel.

Now my mind is filled with the idea of a human lost on an alien world being taken is as a pet for a Predator-type alien. Even though the alien–Allen–is from a culture that totally lives in harshness every day of the week, he believes that he needs to take care of his human properly. Which means lush comfort, gourmet food, baths, tummy rubs, just a thoroughly pleasure-filled life. Allen even takes his human to a swap, where unbonded humans are gathered together for Owners to look at. Allen brings his human and they walk around to find a proper mate for the human.

It’s kind of like a dog park with stalls set up along the fences. All kinds of things are sold there, from humans to smaller pets like dogs, cats, turtles, etc. (Maybe the aliens have conquered Earth and every creature is their pet?)

Allen could see the way Gerston tugged at the collar with his forepaws and gave him a warning swat on the back. One sky blue eye rolled toward him balefully, but Gerston had quickly learned how to behave. “There will be none of that, good sir,” Allen said sternly.

Gerston made a whining sound of unhappiness and Allen huffed a laugh. “Now now. We’re here to pick you up a treat. There’s no reason to act so rudely to me.” Allen tugged the leash and Gerston was quick to go to heel, following along in Allen’s footstep as they traversed the animal park toward the human enclosure.

As they got closer, Gerston jerked to attention when he saw where they were going, all the humans gathered within the fence. He made an excited sound, like amazement and laughter and a bit of fear.

“Don’t worry now,” Allen said. “I’m not going to replace you. We’re just here to get you a friend.”

He led Gerston to the fence and they walked along it, examining the humans inside. There were at least twenty of them huddled in groups around the enclosure, some of them rather humorously covering their exposed genitals. There was no clothing before a human was purchased and registered; it made it easier to differentiate the males from the females and there was no way the seller could hide any health concerns.

Suddenly one of the humans barked high and excited and ran to the fence, nearly touching the forcefield, which crackled warningly. He was a larger than normal human with black hair on his head and face and between his legs, his skin a deep brown color marred by a silvery scar across his abdomen. Still, he was a handsome looking beast.

Gerston made an excited yip and tugged at Allen, rolling his eyes so pleadingly that Allen huffed a laugh and took him closer to the fence. He got to watch Gerston and the other male eye each up, yelping and barking and waving their forepaws at each other. It was oddly delightful.

“So this is the one you want, is he?” Allen looked around until he caught the eye of the stall manager and clapped his hands to catch his attention. The man hurried over with a jangle of keys, a clipboard in his hand. “I want that one.” Allen pointed at the male human Gerston seemed so taken with.

“Oh, sir, I don’t think that one would be right for you at all. He’s a rough sort and you seem to be a rather delicate fellow.”

Allen could see the way the other man looked at him, the judgment being made behind those slit yellow eyes, and he grit his teeth and took it. He knew how he looked; most times it pleased him to be admired, but Traditionals had a tendency to look at him as though he was shit beneath their heel. From the gelled back sweep of his blue-black mane to his bespoke suit jacket, vest, and trousers, he was a Modernist to the core. Wealthy, handsome, of noble birth, but troubled to be a gadfly, most likely a disappointment to his family and a black sheep amongst his old school friends.

He straightened his spine and stared down his nose at the man.–How dare such a vermin judge him?–“I will take the black topped one. Arrange the paperwork. I don’t have all day.” At the rolling sound of his vowels and pheromone rush of Command, the creature hastened to obey.

Allen didn’t like to Dominate those lesser than him. He wanted to believe in the freedom of everyone, no matter how unlikely, but there were some times when he simply couldn’t take it anymore. His natural inclination was to own every situation he was in and that included anyone of lesser birth–he was a noble–and when he could no longer suppress his nature that’s what he reverted to: the noble child of ten thousand generations of noble children. There were very few Lessers born into his family line, and that had become a mark of pride for his Genome.

Watching the man rush around at his command, Allen couldn’t help savoring the thrill of power, though he wished more than anything to feel bad about it. And that’s what he always felt bad for instead, the fact that he had no conscience of his own. He was as amoral and terrible as his mother.

I will do better, I promise, he thought.

He looked down at Gerston, his faithful pet, and reached out to stroke the human’s head, letting the long auburn locks flow between his fingers, black fur mixing with human hair. It was his desire to be a better person that had brought him to the decision of getting his own human. He’d never been one for pets before, but the books all suggested the company of an at least Level Three organism to promote a healthy mental state and nurture a compassion toward weaker beings. He hadn’t believed it could possibly work, but he’d developed a fondness for Gerston that brinked closely to being love.

“Oh look, here comes your friend,” Allen said. Standing with Gerston at his side, he watched as the stall manager walked his new human to him on a plain brown leash. The human had been dressed in a loose black smock and slippers. He walked with his head up and his shoulders back, brown eyes looking around interestedly.

Allen smiled. His new human was beautiful, muscular and healthy with glossy black hair. He would be the perfect complement to Gerston, who was slender and delicate boned; everyone would admire Allen when he took his humans for a walk.

*

RAW FEED: Harsh Buzz [vampire, mm]
Author: Harper Kingsley
Rating: mature

There was something to be said about that moment between Waking and Sleep when it felt as though the world was rushing back into his lungs. The word he might use is “Disappointing.”

To feel life take over his dreaming mind and slip back out of the memories he imagined he’d once lived, it made reality all that much more painful. All those beautiful moments withering and falling away, dying petals falling away in a flurry of bright and dark.

Then he is himself alone. And suddenly that’s not so bad with awareness rushing to fill the emptiness. This is his life, his world. No longer a slave to the passions of others, he is the master here and no one can deny that.

Marmalee rose from tousled sheets, stretching his arms high above him and feeling the smooth press of muscles against his skin.

This was his moment now. His time.

There was no one to stand against him. No one that would dare to stand against him.

Padding barefoot into the bathroom, he twisted the knobs above the claw-footed tub, letting the hot water free. He added a drizzle of scented oil, breathing deep the scent of flowers and spice.

As he stepped into the bath, he heard the hushed whisper of the bedroom doors opening. His four personal attendants stepped in with their demiguise trailing after them, their eyes kept low in deference.

Marmalee said nothing as two attendants came to the tub and stepped in, kneeling in the water to wash his skin with soft cloths and massaged sweet smelling shampoo into his long, crimson locks.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be pampered. Gentle touches felt strange after centuries of rough handling. He had started out his immortal life even lower in the Hierarchy than these servants.

There had been no laws to protect him and no one to care. He’d wrapped his hurt and misery tight around his heart and turned it into the strength necessary to rise through the ranks and stake his claim as a Master. He had refused to be a victim, and his reward was at hand.

After bathing, he was dried and powdered, his skin shining and smooth. He was dressed in leather and silk and spiderweb lace. His hair was coiled around wire artifices until it was an elegant art and he was as beautiful as he was deadly, looking neither male nor female, but something lingering in-between.

“You look beautiful,” LaFavre said.

Marmalee gave her a gentle smile. “Thank you. You have done well.” A kind word here and there earned better loyalty than cruelty and indifference.

Stepping into his soft-soled shoes, Marmalee smoothed his hands over his stomach and strode from the room. The evening’s entertainment would be starting shortly and he had never been one to be late. Never to his own party.

Bodyguards flanked him as he left the private portion of the Palace for the public areas. They rode the elevator up with him and kept a close watch as he surveyed the party preparations.

His butler was handling things with all the adroit skill of his top notch schooling. Hollings had displayed such brilliance at organizing the Palace staff that Marmalee was considering turning him into a Demiguise in a few years. It wouldn’t do for the Palace butler to appear too young, just a bit of age to distinguish him, and Edward Hollings would be perfect.

“I’m pleased,” Marmalee said.

Hollings didn’t even twitch at Marmalee’s sudden appearance next to him. He merely dipped his head in respect. His breath ghosted against Marmalee’s sleeve, rippling the fabric. “Prince-Elect. We have done the best we can, and the result has been very good so far.”

“You’re humble, how adorable.” Marmalee laughed and clapped his hands. There had been some question about his decision to hire a human, but he had been impressed by Hollings; not just how the man appeared on paper, but the man himself. Hollings was unflappable.

“The first guests should be arriving within the hour,” Hollings said.

Marmalee nodded. “Thank you for your hard work this past week.”– He lightly poked his finger against Hollings just to feel the solid muscle.–“You’ve done a truly beautiful job.”

Hollings’ thin lips turned up in a smile. “It was my pleasure, sir.” There was a definite thrill to be found when dealing with someone so competent. There wasn’t a single hair out of place and Hollings had the serene confidence of a master of his profession.

Marmalee gave him another smile before drifting off to check things for himself. He’d always had a perfectionist streak.

Kakushigoto 01 at Amazon

Title: The Hastings
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: superhero, family, genhet

Blurb: “Family drama of the superhero kind.”

EXCERPT:

They were on a call, a normal situation for their superhero family. A gang of bank robbers had tunneled their way through the basement of the vault and made off with a small fortune. It should have been no sweat for them to handle.

Except they hadn’t counted on the gang leader turning out to be Deadheat, who could create a current of heat hotter than the sun. He had a reputation for flash-roasting capes and no compunction about using his metability against kids. It added a level of danger to the situation they weren’t prepared for, and if she’d been given a choice Magda would have called in another crew to handle these guys. Unfortunately, they had already busted into the gang’s lair and there was no backing away from the fight without dying.

“I think we may have made a strategic error,” Gizmoid said, ducking away from a burst of heat. The top of his red headstocking smoked and turned black, but held up without burning him.

“You stay back,” Mr. Starlight ordered firmly. Gizmoid didn’t have the same heat-resistance as the other kids, not having inherited his own pyrokinesis. The teen jerked a nod and darted toward a rear position. He would set up the Safe Zone with his backpack of tech toys.

Magda pushed away the worry she had for her three children–there would be time for panic later–they had a job to do here. “Blazerella, Stratosphire, set up for a gamma blitz maneuver.”

If they had been in practice there might have been groans and rolled eyes, but here in the thick of it the young superheroes leapt into action without a single complaint. She was proud of them.

Blazerella went high while Stratosphire went low, flame wreathing Blazerella’s entire body as her brother let loose with a concussive thunderclap before dodging out of the way of her Flame Tornado. There were screams and the smell of burning hair and skin as the men knocked down by Stratosphire weren’t able to get out of the way in time. The brother-sister duo rocketed up into the air in a whipping pattern Deadheat was unable to follow and Magda sighed in relief to see them drop behind Gizmoid’s nuclear powered force shield. They were safe.

“You ready for this, dear?” Mr. Starlight asked.

“Always,” Magda replied. There was no time for fear, no time for anything but the mission. She latched onto Mr. Starlight’s offered hand and let herself be flung across the room toward the far wall. It was so fast that she barely had herself braced before her boots struck the wall and she bent her knees and bounced off, a Titanic Thunderclap rippling the air from between her hands.

She had a moment of satisfaction when she saw Deadheat’s surprised expression as she went past him, then she was tucking and rolling, a grunt escaping her lips as her shoulder hit harder than expected, but she was okay. She rolled back to her feet and ran as fast as she could out of range of any retaliatory blasts.

She was sure she’d hit him, but there was no reason to test it.

She saw the kids behind Gizmoid’s screen, watching as their dad took out the bad guy. There wasn’t a single doubt on any of their faces that he could handle a one-note wonder like Deadheat.

Then the line of Blazerella’s lips softened and time slowed down as Magda watched horror overtake what she could see of her daughter’s face. “Daddy!”

Magda turned and was horrified to see Mr. Starlight on his knees, his right hand pressed to the starburst scorched into his armored vest, a pained grimace pulling at his lips. Deadheat looked worse for wear, but the air rippled in front of him as he brought his hand up, focusing his powers for a killing burst.

Mr. Starlight–Dustin, her lover, her husband, the father of her children–brought his left arm up in weak protection, but there was nothing he could do to stop the kind of intense heat blast Deadheat could produce. Magda wanted to scream at Dustin to get out of the way, but the words wouldn’t come. She was too far away to help. There was nothing she could do but watch.

Then Blazerella was there, a high-pitched keening wail escaping her throat. The blast of heat struck her dead on, but she blazed up so hot that her flames were blue.

There was the dull whump of a massive backblast as Deadheat’s attack was forced up and away. A large circle was blown out of the roof of the warehouse and light visibly arched into the sky.

Blazerella collapsed, her body splayed across the floor. Smoke drifted from her blackened uniform. She didn’t seem to be breathing.

“No!” Magda heard her own scream echoed by her sons, but fear had become terror and rage and the world had gone strange around her. Her hands moved on their own to release a thunderclap, flinging Deadheat away from her family. Then Stratosphire was there, his lips curled back from his teeth as he punched the criminal with a flame-wreathed superpowered fist.

It sounded like a watermelon dropping on the floor, a wet shatter, then there was a sizzle of heat. There wasn’t even time for a choked off scream.

Magda ran to Blazerella, dropping to her knees next to her limp form. “Come on baby, oh god, please be all right. Please be all right.”

/EXCERPT

* * * You can stop reading here. The rest is just me babbling.***

I want to be able to work on my projects and put some books out there, but we need food and stuff. I mean, this house needs some kind of heating system better than a wood stove, we need a new roof, and I need a new pair of shoes. Which basically means I need a job — which I’m having a hard time getting because of my social anxiety.

Someone suggested that I should go for a grant, but I don’t think I’d get it. Plus I wouldn’t want to take one away from someone that’s more deserving. So instead I’ve been thinking about making a Kickstarter, but I’m not sure how to write it :/

*

Read me at Kimichee.com.

Kakushigoto 01 at Amazon

Ugh, it’s the middle of the night and I got up and ate a big bowl of cold spaghetti. Now my stomach is feeling all roly-poly “I think I’m going to be sick”-oly. I’m starting to feel tired again and I’ll go back to bed in a moment, but until then I’ve been planning out my NaNoWriMo.

I know, right? It’s practically the middle of the month and I’m just starting my story. But it’s actually the third story that I’ve started for NaNo, but it’s the only one I don’t think I’m going to discard. Those other ones left me feeling doubtful, this one makes me feel hopeful. It’s called “Freeform Jazz” because I’m not-so secretly a weirdo.

The rough start:

Jazz – real name: James Leopold. He was nicknamed Jazz because that’s what his parents were listening to when he was conceived. It’s a horrifying story he really didn’t want to know about, but it wasn’t something he could forget. Not when they insisted on listening to jazz music every year around his birthday and got all moon-eyed toward each other. It was disgusting.

But you never have to worry about it again, he thought. You’re never going to catch them being all kissy faced and sweaty-rumpled. You’re never going to see them ever again.

“Are you all right, son? Is there someone I can call?”

Jazz blinked and looked at the man that had stopped next to his perch on the stone planter. “What?”

There was infinite patience in the brown eyes that looked at him, a sad understanding that made Jazz want to slap the guy just because he could. “Would you like me to call someone for you?” the man asked.

“Why?” Jazz asked, cocking his head.

“Because you’re crying.”

The man pointed and Jazz realized that it was true. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he hadn’t even noticed them start. He scrubbed at his face with his sleeve and thought that he was supposed to be embarrassed. Really, he was just tired. Exhausted in a way that made even breathing seem too hard to take.

“I’m … I’m all right,” he said. “You don’t have to call anyone. I’ll be fine.”

The man didn’t look like he believed him, but gave him a nod anyway before heading toward the stone steps. He had a black cane that went with the limp in his left leg. Jazz wondered what had happened to him.

Maybe you just met the real life John Watson, he thought. A smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t last long. Not when he couldn’t seem to stop the helpless tears that kept escaping his eyes as he tried not to think about his parents. His tragically dead parents.

Jazz mopped at his face and forced himself to his feet when what he really wanted to do was hug his knees to his chest and just break down. But how lame would that be? A nineteen year old weeping in front of the public library because he didn’t know what else to do.

He hated feeling so helpless.

Don’t tell anyone at Wattpad, but I’ve decided that it’s the origin story of GlenDal (from Heroes & Villains). Everyone knows I’m a big Sailor Moon fan, plus there’s that song from AMVHell 5: “If I were a girl, even just for a day, I’d roll out of bed in the morning and wonder what just happened to me.” The story is practically writing itself. I even came up with a little Barbie joke that I’m going to throw in.

I am really excited about NaNoWriMo. I hope you are too ^_^

Let's Make Dumplings at Amazon

Post thumbnail

Title: Fierce
Larger work: Shame
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: mm contemporary
Warning: Possible triggers for mention of past non-con.

A/N: Fierce and Conflagration will be added to the original Shame. There will be a non-Shame version called “Without Shame” too if you want to stay away from the unpleasant.

Summary: Simon Peters is dealing with the aftermath of the events in Shame. It’s a long slow road, but he refuses to give up.

*

There were moments in the stillness where Simon found himself afraid. He would close his eyes only to have to open them again, his every sense quivering alert, sure the boogeyman was going to get him. Again.

He hated being so scared all the time. He hated that there were marks on him he couldn’t see. He hated that someone as sick and twisted as Damien Prince had left such a permanent scar on his mind.