Needed some inspiration to kickstart the writing juices the other day, so got Nick and Des to give me random numbers. This is the first page, second one’s coming a bit later. Let’s see if this will be a story…
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
Quick Prose-ACK CAFKL Update: Thank you to everyone who came and bought our books! They’re all sold out. :) Chapters 2 will be published by end of this week, I still need to clean some bits out. Thank you very much for your support!
And as a tiny bonus, here’s a quick ficlet I did for the 15-Minute Ficlet challenge on Dreamwidth:
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
Chapters 1: Shorts by Naoko Kensaku
UWAA its happening! Chapters 1: Shorts by Naoko Kensaku, aka my first doujin, goes on sale tomorrow at the Comic Art Festival Kuala Lumpur. It’s a compilation of Chapters 1 from the following projects:
Stories range from sci-fi to fantasy. Each copy is RM6. If you purchase Tales Of Vaticanny Palace, written by my booth partner DMJewelle, the total will be RM10! We’re Prose-ACK at B17:
Prose-ACK Booth at B17, CAFKL
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
So one of the things I kinda resolved to do this year was to make my way through my pile of unread books. I’ve read (in no particular order):
Just finished Ico, so I’m taking a quick break before I continue. I might be starting on Alternative Histories soon OR Playing That Yaoi Game I Bought At CF That I Need To Rip. It’s… NFSW apparently, but the artwork looks gorgeous.
2 guys but 24 endings WHAT INSANITY IS THIS?
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
Autumn Winter
Summer December
A stray glance
A misplaced trust
Gone was light
Innocence lost
But for a kiss to be slain
But for a night, to be destroyed.
Forbidden, forbidden
Ah how sweet the fruit
Even sweeter still
The corruption of souls.
~~~~~
A fleeting stray
A gentle glance
A soft heart
Innocence relapse.
Fear and love
Leash and free
The same mistakes,
The same longing.
Different beds in a night
Lovers many but hearts a few
Reap, reap weep and rend
Thus begins the Baron’s revenge.
- The Downfall of the Vermillion Isles
Written by an unknown poet
Evgenia’s Fall by http://geminianeyes.com is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
Based on a work at http://geminianeyes.com/?p=8211.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://geminianeyes.com/?page_id=1844.
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
Inspired by em-pyei-n vari-fen jang
Note: I probably have the Cyrillic all wrong. ^^l
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
A peculiar witch dashes into the outlook.
Now that brings up some interesting story ideas.
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
The Personhood Amendment in the US is terrifying to me because it doesn’t just paint an America at war with women.
It reminds me that too easily, my government could, and perhaps would, do the same thing.
Reading things like these, make me cry. I have no idea why.
Via SiliconShaman on LJ.
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
I believe Destiny is responsible only for throwing challenges in our way to see what we are made of. She does not have the power nor the capability to set our life’s path. Otherwise, having a free will is meaningless.
Naoko, on why she does not approve of Karma, the Goddess of Fate
Notes from a teacher
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
Something I’ve noticed about the various Chinese dramas on NTV7 over the past year or so. The production value has gotten much better compared to its early days. If a show’s set during a certain period, efforts are made to at least simulate the feel of the age, and one drama not too long ago actually got quite a bit of their sets right.
Even if they did end up with a large cement wall in the background by accident.
The past few dramas I’ve caught snippets of though, make me despair. The one currently showing in the 10pm slot irritates the hell out of me because it feels so unrealistic, shallow and one-dimensional. I just watched a scene in where the hero is jailed for a crime he did not commit.
His wife tracks down her brother who can clear her husband’s name. He refuses and runs away. The heroine’s mother then accuses the heroine of being selfish for she thinks of no one but her husband since she married.
Now, the heroine was forced by her parents, including said mother, to marry the man to settle the father’s debts. So no one can fault her if she decides to point out that her brother’s a selfish asshole who deserves what he gets, right? In fact, I’d think anyone in that position would have resorted to more emotive and angry-filled words.
She just says instead, “Brother, you must take responsibility for your actions.”
…. Personally I’d have said, “You coward and useless piece of shit,” followed by a long litany of how his ass was saved by the husband and that his and mom’s cosy life would be ruined if his bro in law was not rescued.
I suppose there’s a reason why I’m no scriptwriter.
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
I remember now why I love to write. There’s so many unexpected twists and turns when you let your muses go and just write. Still, that ended pretty fast. This won’t ever be a project I publish, but it was a good exercise. Never did quite pay attention to Seruling and Patrice, so I’m glad I did, this time. After all, they were responsible for much of Sukina and Naoko’s training in their younger days, and how they turned out.
Ok, now to start on another project.
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
Had the itch to write, but no idea what. Please note that this story is NOT for resale or redistribution except with permission (those who are mentioned in the story are of course exempted from this). Cut to save F-List:
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
This took longer than I expected. Work and all. Sorry for the delay!
The challenge: One word and a number. 1-203. No fanfics. All oris.
First 5. Go!All slots have been fulfilled!
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
Just a quickie that’s been bothering me the whole evening.
“This war we’re fighting for… it was never for us. It was never for our sake. It was always for our children. If we want a better world for our children to grow up in, then it’s up to us to make it. No one else,” she whispered softly as they sat near the campfire, her face furrowed in concentration.
“But what if we’re wrong?” her student’s voice sounded loud after her whisper. She caught a note of hysteria and uncertainty in that question.
“Then our children live with our mistakes.”
“That’s not…”
“Fair? The world isn’t. But I’d rather leave my daughter a legacy she can look up to than one that will cover her in shame,” both of them fell quiet, leaving the unspoken thought between them that legacies were a very impractical thing to leave a baby.
“Go to sleep, Ariala. The call may come soon,” her voice was kindly as she admonished her student to sleep. The child yawned.
“But I’m not sleepy,” she protested weakly, even as she wrapped herself in the blanket and laid down. Within seconds, she had fallen into the quick sleep that elite soldiers did when they took their rest whenever they could.
They had a good two hours rest before the horns sounded, and they went to war.
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
Moon Frisbee!
When I was a kid, I was first introduced to the concept of a sentai by Sailormoon. Before then, I did watch on and off other henshin and magical girls anime but those were merely glimpses. Sailormoon, with its all-female kick ass cast, was the first manga that I regularly bought with Dragonball, and it became my mainstay after that. I sold some of the Malay translated comics later and now regret it; there was an episode with Luna that I simply adored.
I first fell in love with Sailormoon for the art. There was also the fact that unlike other manga or anime then, there was no pleasing the male gaze. Back in those days, I loved Sailormoon cause she didn’t need to show off skin to save the day (Wonder Woman and gang, I am looking at you). There was no need to wear skin-tight leotards to kick ass; day-to-day clothes will do just as fine (this was before I was introduced to Kaoru Kamiya). In fact, intelligence was a prized asset, and smart bookworms who were beautiful yet insecure about themselves (and NOT about their ability to attract boys) nailed it for me.
As Comic Book Girl points out, almost all women here are represented. All types, with different motivations and different reasons for the actions they did. Not all of them were for romantic love (the only villain that did that was in the first arc, but that was one of the arcs I’m not familiar with, I admit) but they revolved around various themes.
Growing up. Taking responsibilities for your actions. Dedicating yourself to a passion, no matter what anyone else said.
Oh, and it’s ok to love both science and the arts at the same time (Mercury’s backstory was the clincher for me in this case).
Sailormoon normalised the concept that it was ok to be female AND independent. It taught me that it was fine to rely on yourself to get yourself out of trouble, especially scrapes that you get into (Sailor V). It taught me that it was fine to like cooking even though I’m a tomboy (Makoto). It taught me that being devoted to a purpose was ok (Sailor Mars). It taught me that it was ok to love books and there is no shame in that (Ami Mizuno).
Most of all, it taught me that I’m an independent human beings, and that it’s fine to be friends with other human beings without wanting to one-up them. It taught me that friends could be people you trust and depend on, and that you’re their support, just as they are yours.
Thank you, Sailormoon.
*Starts saving up for English manga reprint now*
Original entry as appearing at Ink to Screen.
So, Juufy sis broke my brain with images of Yura in that sex meme. To regain it, I was to make Isla Yura introduce my story. He didn’t quite come right in the beginning, but this is what he did anyway:
We now bring you a message from Isla Yura!
“Hellooooooo everyone! How’re we today! Normally I’d tell you about dear Master Oz and Master Jack but ah! Today I’ve been loaned to tell you the story of Tattoos, Guns and Prayers! Now, this beautiful piece will be written In the month of November, and it’ll be an exciting thing, won’t it! Ah, it’s got blood, guts, gore, all the wonderful, wonderful recipe of success!”
Yura disappears for a moment and soon returns, wearing a crimson outfit in contrast to his purple one earlier.
“Oh, and these people are just like me! They’re trying to open the dimension to a new world where their Master resides, where there’ll be no more suffering and a golden peace will soon come! But ah! Why must they make us the villains again?” he sobs into a handkerchief. “What’s wrong with wanting peace? We just want to go to the Abyss where there’ll be nothing but paradise! Why do they torment us so?”
And now, with that, back to the story.
*sleeps*
Original entry as appearing at Reach Into Your Soul.
From Tentabunny:
Prompt: Clavicle.
Song: ~Overture~ Brotherhood from FMA Brotherhood OST
He had always measured how healthy a person was by their collarbones. Or rather, by their clavicles, those bones visible just under the neck. He always went for the ones whose bones were just about defined. They were almost always quite healthy, and were very conscious of what they put in their foods.
So when she came to his studio to be photographed, he was instantly smitten by her. There was the slightest hint of makeup. Her skin was a healthy golden brown. Hair fell past the shoulders in glorious, unbounded waves. It was her clavicles that attracted his eyes when she removed the scarf though. They were delicate, yet well-defined. He stared.
“Is something the matter, sir?” she asked. “I’ve got a class to go to in a minute.”
“Oh yes, sorry miss. Now, if you’ll just look here and tilt your head up a little… that’s right.”
She never did make it to class, though her scarf hung in his closet, along with the items from his other… feedings.
~~~~~~~
From Neon:
Prompt: Knowledge
Song: Trust Me~ Instrumental by Yuya Matshushita
He was waiting for her when she left the studio. With a disdainful look, she turned away upon seeing him. He followed her, chatting nonchalantly. She refused to pay him any heed, until he said the magic words.
“I know what makes you tick,” he said in his most charming manner.
She stopped in her tracks, with a disbelieving look on her face. Without warning, she raised a hand to slap him. It left a red mark on his face.
Two months later, he proposed to her in the middle of a library, with the fateful words.
“You’re language. Rhythm and dance are but expressions of the same verbal intonations. That is what makes you tick. Expressions, is what a human being is, the expression of everything and nothing,” he went down on one knee while she was shelving some books. She smiled.
They were married in a museum. He had spent his life knowing her. She had spent hers gathering knowledge. Would it be surprising then, that their first child was born in an astronomical observatory?
~~~~~
The Prince
In 20 words or less
Prompt by LibraryTux (#nanowrimo)
He loves his country.
That man means what he says.
“Trust me,” he says. “I’m here.”
And so rose Germany.
~~~~~~
From Brandconsultant:
Prompt: Cricket
Song: Cruel Angel’s Thesis, Remix, from Gal Trance Party
The hill stood alone. From where she stood, the crack of the bats were unusually loud. She watched them play, a smile on her lips. Among those below, a boy playing in his first cricket game, was her son. He looked strong, eager, and happy. Watching his game, she fixed it in her memory. She would not scream. It would dishonur his memories.
Turning, she walked away from the hill to the sea’s edge. There, the setting orange sun shone in her eyes. With a smile, she stepped off the cliff. And soon disappeared.
They never did find her body.
~~~~~~~
From Neon:
Prompt: Hands
Song: Doll by Scandal
Note: Inspired too, by Tentabunny’s fic
“This… will take quite some time.”
The look she gave him told him she trusted in him completely. It also pleaded with him. He sighed. Of course he would do it for her.
“Come back, in 5 days. They’ll be ready for you then,” he turned away from her, taking the bag with him.
“Thank you, grandpapa,” she whispered, before running out his shop. The tinkling of the bell over the shop’s door marked the end of his life, the old man thought.
She came back, exactly 5 days later, at the hour she had left his shop. He had the news on, the newscaster droning about the man found with no hands. She looked unrepentant. The man, after all, had not survived the surgery. He was being buried. The old man looked meaningfully at her.
“An hour’s sunlight at most. No more. Then they’ll be as warm as you like,” he passed the bag over the counter.
She took them out. They were beautiful. Each nail was clean. The skin was wonderful to touch. There was no smell, no blood. To her surprise, the fingers were also flexible. The whole pair was. She looked at the old man in amazement.
“You asked me to give it some life,” was all he said.
“Thank you, Grandpapa!” she reached over and kissed his cheek, before stuffing the bag into her duffel bag and running out.
He sighed, and turned away. The obsessive love she had… must have come from home. He wept.
Original entry as appearing at Reach Into Your Soul.
SATIRE/HUMOUR/SILLY THING AHEAD. You have been warned.
This all started as a joke. You see, a few days ago I misread a tweet from a friend. She was writing about the “tentacles of psychology.” I misread it as “psychology of tentacles.” In my defence, I had just woken up when I saw that tweet. So, in true style, said Twitter Friend, fondly called Tentabunny, decided to take the concept and run away with it.
This is where we stand:
Inquiry Founder: Naoko (aka me)
Pioneering Psychologist (aka lead researcher): Neon
Test subject: Tentabunny!
Class: Ikan Billys, Sairen, Caxi
Potential student: Caxi
Suggested readings:
Basic Tentacology
Portrayal in olden Japan
Modern Revival
Tentacle as Replacement Penis?
Get to class, people!
Original entry as appearing at Reach Into Your Soul.
“Or a good one, depending on whom you ask,” I muttered to myself, pulling the hood across my face to cover my lips.
Keeping my head down and the basket of figs close, I walked through the market. By the time I had reached it’s end i I knew there were at least two guards eyeing me suspiciously. That was fine. My main purpose was to distract them, after all. To distract them from their duties so no one would keep too close an eye on the Temple walls. Pretty soon, I knew, I would hear a scream. The longer the guards kept their eyes on me, the better.
Someone bumped roughly into my shoulder, causing me to drop my figs. With a curse, I bent down to pick them up, letting the hood fall from my head. From the corner of my eye, I couldn’t see if that had attracted the guards. Instead, the man who had rammed into me blocked my view. My hands moved quickly to gather the figs and some urchins stole my food, which I batted away half-heartedly.
“Move your feet, you’re standing on my skirt,” I said angrily, without looking up.
“Perhaps you should be more careful of whom you speak to, Child,” a bone-chillingly familiar voice replied.
I did not falter. Instead, I continued picking up the figs. The scream came, but was abruptly cut off. “Damn, there goes another,” I thought silently.
“I did not realise that you have so many lives to waste, Alin’sa. Or is that the reason why your women get pregnant so easily?”
My hands stopped moving. I turned to look at him, slowly, knowing what I would find. The sun shone behind him, so I had to squint, but the tell-tale wings were there. As were the bronzed skin. Skin I had kissed just two nights ago.
“Tis not your concern,” I stood up, taking my basket with me. He moved his feet off the hem of my skirt.
“It is when you’re talking about my child!” his hand reached out to grab me roughly. It was only then that I realised we had been speaking in the priestly language, for it had been his actions that drew everyone’s stares and not his words.
“Your child?” I hissed in his face. “What makes you think it is yours?” even as I said the words, I wish I would take them back. The look on his face was one I would carry forever.
“Whore!” he pushed me away from him, but our palms brushed as I fell and I caught the paper he passed to me. He walked away.
I picked up my basket and hurried back to my rooms. Opening my hand, I looked at the single note. It was not a note, but a crude envelope. Within was a simple rose petal.
I fell to the floor and cried.
Original entry as appearing at Reach Into Your Soul.
Hi Colt and Saber
I’m not sure which of you did that, but I’m pretty sure it’s most likely to be Colt. Yes Saber, the scenario does make sense, but for you to wake up and do THAT to Colt? -_-” I’ll write it when I’m good and ready and not minutes before I leave for a meeting thanks.
But don’t stop being hot, y’all. 
Wondering what she smoked this time
A writer
Original entry as appearing at Reach Into Your Soul.
