Virtual human development game



www.human-age.com

Okay, so here's the news. My beloved friend paraka is making me a webpage for my vids. Maybe my fics to one day but those aren't on the top of the list. For starters, she doesn't read my fics. ^.^ But when the page is done it will be on www.parakaproductions.net. Nifty.

Anyway, one random question. Is it wrong to consider getting a paid livejournal just to use mood themes? I'm like a livejournal newbie, even though I've had an account for years.  I'm super bad at posting, and I'm scared of all the other livejournal people.

Maybe I'll try posting more and see how that works.

Woot. (That's for you paraka )

I've decided to attempt to take a more activate part in my livejournal since so many people seem to be moving to it. I've joined some groups and stuff. Anyway this is the second time I written this and sheer laziness prevents me from saying more so here's part of one of my crappy fics. (Damn NaNiMo, one day I will defeat you!!!)

I had a story here but I could't figure out how to do a LJ cut. And my post was too long. Will figure out how soon.
<

And here's one that will probably never be finished.

            The feel of a wet cloth roused the man. He shifted, and blinked open his eyes. It was dark; the only light came from a lamp somewhere behind the person holding the cloth.

            He opened his mouth in an attempt to ask where he was but no sound emerged. The person tending his forehead reached over and offered him a glass. Shifting, so that he was sitting up, he reached for the glass and took two large swallows. The glass was quickly taken away.

            “No. You must drink slowly or you will be sick.”

            The voice was a woman’s, and as this was noted the women moved, placing the glass on the table. She was tanned a dark brown. Her hair, a shade of auburn, was streaked with gray.

            “Can you speak?” she asked. Her voice was commanding but kind. She reminded him of somebody but he couldn’t bring that person to mind.

            The man coughed. “Yes,” he rasped. “More water, please.”

And here's one I actually finished.

  Night was its element, night was a time of fears, a time when people committed the evilest of evils and it fed on them. It strength grew, in fact in had been growing daily for a while now. After centuries of hiding in the shadows, of being a part of the dark souls, it, no, he, yes he, he had grown, had developed in a way he had never thought possible. He had waited for so long, without ever knowing what he was waiting for.

 He was now no longer a part of something else, he was himself and it was a glorious feeling. He no longer needed puppets to do what he wanted. He gathered himself, forming a body to house his self.

 In his thoughts he made the choice, he was male because males inspired more fear and he fed on fear, he loved it. And now he could taste it, his tongue darted out, its forked end more like a snake’s then a man’s. A slow smirk spread across his newly formed face. A face that was both young and old at the same time. He stretched out his long graceful fingers; his fingernails glittered in the moonlight, reflecting off the deadly sharp points as the hand was flexed.

 Oh he liked this; the feel of individuality was exhilarating. He was no longer just a part of something bigger. He walked now on long legs clothed in a pair of black leather pants. A blood red t-shirt covered his chest and shadows formed around the shirt before fading to revel a black leather jacket.

 The thing paused to admire his work; he reached up and ran a hand through the silky black hair, which tumbled to his shoulders. He was pleased, again that smirk spread across his face, fangs glittered and that forked tongue darted out. 

 He stopped, and his tongue darted out again. His brow furrowed, as he tasted something in the air. He stood on the outskirts of the city and he wanted to walk through the streets bringing hate and fear and death in his wake. But this scent, this taste drew him. It led not toward the city but the tranquil stillness of the country.

 Still he hesitated, his tongue darting out again. He sighed in glee, this smell, this taste was delicious. It was so innocent, but so guilty, and fear and anger, oh yes those were there too. For a second his lip curled in a sneer as he also caught the scent of love and honour. But soon the smile was back; a challenge was what he wanted. He wanted to bring him as low as he could go before he devoured him, he wanted to make that innocent soul his. Once he had that nothing could stop him.

 Something rustled through the bushes and he froze, he had to get moving. It didn’t appreciate parts of it obtaining individuality. For now he was too strong to be taken back, but he needed to feed. He practically drooled as the scent came to him again. With this soul as a part of him he couldn’t be stopped. And the soul was at a crucial junction, at its very weakest. It was a risk, but one he was willing to take, the benefits would be beyond his wildest dreams.

 His decision made he turned and moved into the forest, the shadows rose up to cover him as he followed that delicious scent to its source.

There, now my post is long and boring. So HA! to anybody who read this far. *cough* paraka *cough*