Angelia Sparrow's Blog, page 39
October 25, 2012
Geeky Halloween
I'm IN this Thriller vid. In the pink at the 3:19 mark.
And I kinda love the mashup.
Your excerpt of the day is from Spellbound Desire which releases TOMORROW! (work safe) If you like this clip, follow the link and read the first chapter.
We were dressed and ready to go out. I opened the door, only to find her cousin still on the doorstep, his jaw slack.
“He's gobsmacked, Admire,” I told her.
“You gotta turn down your aura, buddy.”
“I swear, I didn't lay an erg of mana on him.”
She snapped her fingers under his nose. “Jinx, Jinx!”
“You have a boyfriend.” The words came out mumbled and half-coherent. “You have a naked boyfriend.”
“Yes, I do. Do you want breakfast, Jinx? Bran's buying.”
“You have a naked boyfriend named for a muffin?”
“No, the cereal,” I said. I get that a lot. Bran may mean raven in the old tongue, but most people just think of oats. “Come on, Jinx. The big bad naked muffin is buying breakfast.”
D. J. tucked her arm in mine, affectionate-like. I'd not had a woman so friendly the next morning before. Combat magery doesn't lend itself to long-term partners. The Witan hadn't led me to believe she'd be so willing or so friendly. Abrasive, unpleasant and difficult had been their kindest adjectives. And they had very, very carefully not told me she was a woman.
The acid tongue made no appearance over a steam-table breakfast buffet. Jinx stared at my face and the six scars that mark it. D. J. ate like she hadn't eaten in three days. She might not have. My information said she often drank her meals.
At last she slowed and went to coffee. “Jinx, stop staring. It's rude.”
“The scars, dear Elvis, how did you live through them?” he asked me.
“By being the most powerful mage in a hundred years and more. Demon tried ripping my face off. Popped my eyes out with his smallest talons, stuck his thumbs in my gob and yanked out, ran the other two talons down my face. Nearly bled out all over the fewking floor. Anyone else would have.”
“Then what happened?” Jinx asked like a kid to a storyteller.
“He ate me,” I grinned and got up for more sausages.
D. J. laughed, a rusty sort of sound, like she didn't use it much. Poor Jinx just looked puzzled. He wasn't the brightest.
I sat back down, counting the plates in front of me. I quit at four. I was hungry and I hadn't even started casting. This town was going to be the death of me and I was hoping that wasn't a premonition.
D. J. leaned over and ran one finger along the scar across my cheek. I smiled at her.
“Oeilett?” she asked. I nodded. She looked Jinx over and I could see the wheels turning in her head. “Jinx, you want to come to a get-rich-quick seminar tonight? It's free.”
His look back at her said he'd been invited along on one too many trips that had gone bad. “What's the catch?”
“No catch. You're always complaining about bills and your landlady.”
“Ah, Saraphina's all right. She got her license back and does fortunes every day, so she's making money again.” He thought it over, taking way too long. I was willing to bet my lady didn't scruple at using him for bait.
“So are you in or not, Allan?” I asked.
He blinked, like he didn't hear his name very often. “I'm in. Sure, I'll come. If I get rich, I'll buy a house and an office building and D. J. can have her own suite and never worry about Frau Blucher again. Want me to pick you up?”
D. J. jumped in almost too fast then. “I'll drive. Your piece of shit is lucky to get to highway speed.”
“Generous lad,” I said. “See you tonight. Now it's time for a wee bit more of that private time for your cousin.”
He turned bright red and got up, stuttering his thanks for breakfast. “See you tonight.” He didn't quite run out the door, but it was near.
D. J. scooted closer to me in the booth. “Promise on the private time?” She shook her head and shoved away. “I'm sorry. God, I'm never this bad.”
“It's the mana. Let it work and we'll be done soon enough. Meanwhile, ride it for what it's worth.”
We got up and I paid the bill with the Witan's card, the one they gave me for emergencies. Let them worry about the money.
D. J. let me wrap an arm around her as we walked back to her place. I hoped the mana didn't let go. I liked being with her. I liked the way she talked, her sexy accent with just a little drawl and a lot of movie tough-guy influence, the way she listened, the way she looked at me without being horrified by my face.
“You only told Jinx part of the story. Was it at Chernobyl?”
I nodded. “I was young, stupid and full of myself. I thought I would do better letting Oeilett manifest than simply disrupting it. He got his claws in me, I got my knives in him. As he vanished, he ripped my face off.”
“Jinx already asked, why didn't you die?”
I gave her a squeeze. “Anyone else would have. I might have, but I still had plenty of demonic energy coursing around and it kept me going until I could clot up. I heal fast, like movie-in-reverse fast. There's some on the Witan as jokes it would take decapitating me to kill me. And others who bet if you got my head back on my neck fast enough I'd come back from that too. I'm in no hurry to find out who's right on that bet.”
“So the reactor story was just a cover-up?”
“Oh aye. Most industrial accidents are. Some are real, but most are demons or Nightsiders gone bad. You know normals, won't see it when it slaps them in the gob.”
“Chernobyl.” She gave a low whistle. “I was in high school when that happened. Lots of people died.”
“On my head,” I whispered, my face aching and the memory of the fifty who died immediately stabbing through me. The ache for the millions affected by my failure followed hard on its heels.
She turned in my arm and kissed me, right there on the street. Not ashamed to be seen with me, not afraid of my face or power. I wanted to keep her, if the mana would let us.
October 22, 2012
Monday Make it!
Pic of the Day:
And here's how to make them:
http://lifeartcollide.blogspot.ca/2012/10/soda-bottle-bell-jars.html
Sound of the Season:
And no holiday is complete without Pumpkin Pasties
Pumpkin Pasties
by Britta
Preparation Time 90 minutes
Servings 36
Ingredients
2 eggs, slightly beaten
3/4 cup sugar
1 1 lb. can pumpkin (or 2 cups fresh, roasted in the oven then pressed through a strainer to save your Pumpkin Juice to drink!)
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. ginger
1/4 tsp. cloves
1 2/3 cups evap. milk (1 can)
1/2 tsp. allspice
9 oz pie crust pastry (enough for two single standard pie crusts)
Instructions
Except for the pastry, mix together all the ingredients well. This is the filling.
Bake the filling only (no crust) in a large casserole dish in hot oven (425 °F) for 15 minutes.
Keep oven door closed and reduce temperature to moderate (350 °F/180 °C) and continue baking for 45 minutes or until table knife inserted in center of dish comes out clean.
Cool filling completely on a wire rack.
Make or purchase pie crust pastry.
Roll thin and cut into circles approx 4" in diameter.
Put a spoonful of the cool pumpkin mixture towards one side of the center of the circle.
Fold over the crust into a half-circle and firmly crimp the edges closed.
Slice three small slits in the top for venting.
Place on a greased cookie sheet.
Bake only until crust is a light golden-brown, approx 10 minutes
And here's how to make them:
http://lifeartcollide.blogspot.ca/2012/10/soda-bottle-bell-jars.html
Sound of the Season:
And no holiday is complete without Pumpkin Pasties
Pumpkin Pasties
by Britta
Preparation Time 90 minutes
Servings 36
Ingredients
2 eggs, slightly beaten
3/4 cup sugar
1 1 lb. can pumpkin (or 2 cups fresh, roasted in the oven then pressed through a strainer to save your Pumpkin Juice to drink!)
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. ginger
1/4 tsp. cloves
1 2/3 cups evap. milk (1 can)
1/2 tsp. allspice
9 oz pie crust pastry (enough for two single standard pie crusts)
Instructions
Except for the pastry, mix together all the ingredients well. This is the filling.
Bake the filling only (no crust) in a large casserole dish in hot oven (425 °F) for 15 minutes.
Keep oven door closed and reduce temperature to moderate (350 °F/180 °C) and continue baking for 45 minutes or until table knife inserted in center of dish comes out clean.
Cool filling completely on a wire rack.
Make or purchase pie crust pastry.
Roll thin and cut into circles approx 4" in diameter.
Put a spoonful of the cool pumpkin mixture towards one side of the center of the circle.
Fold over the crust into a half-circle and firmly crimp the edges closed.
Slice three small slits in the top for venting.
Place on a greased cookie sheet.
Bake only until crust is a light golden-brown, approx 10 minutes
October 21, 2012
Sunday Freebies
Your download of the week is "S is for Succubus." This is the first DJ Admire adventure, posted here in preparation for the release of Spellbound Desire
Right click and save as, or just read online
http://inkstainedsuccubus.com/SisforSuccubus.pdf
Or as Oli-chan says, "S is for Succubus that's good enough for me!"
October 20, 2012
Halloween
Tomorrow, a special treat.
Today, from Curse of the Pharaoh's Manicurists , work safe.:
Charlie dozed to the soft drone of Edward’s voice and awakened to a room full of sunset and Edward’s snoring. He still had some coins, so he ducked out to buy some bread to go with dinner. They might need to economize, but bread was only a few piastres.
He left a note and browsed the market stalls near their apartment. He had no fear. Lady Sarah and her cronies were four hundred miles away, learning nothing at all in the Valley of the Kings.
Charlie wandered the streets for the first time, being very careful not to get lost. He’d marked the route through the bazaar during the few trips with Edward on their way elsewhere, but he
hadn’t had time to just explore or to shop. He took it all in, the colors, the smells, the cries of the vendors.
He was definitely in Egypt. This was not New York or London, where great department stores displayed new merchandise behind enormous plate glass windows. Nor was it Harlow, with little
shops lining the streets so one had to carry a basket from bakery to greengrocer. Here, strange fruit formed miniature pyramids under canopy awnings. Handmade jars and boxes and furniture, none of which had changed in design much from the museum pieces, gleamed and tempted. A jeweler kept an eagle eye on a tray of lapis necklaces and turquoise rings. The sellers’ cries rang out,
competing with each other in the cooling evening.
On one corner, an old man sat talking to a crowd of rapt children. The grown-ups ignored him and Charlie realized the old man spoke English. He listened.
“So, Anubis and Khnum quarreled over the canopic jars, with each saying his were best. They brought it before a meeting of the gods, who decreed that the only way to determine the victor was to use each set of jars for a mummification. Now in those days, there lived two men, Khnum-ho-tep and Ni-ankh-khnum, both beloved of the potter god, manicurists to the Pharaoh. Anubis, Lord of Death, took them. Ni-ankh-khnum was mummified using Anubis’ jars. Khnum-ho-tep was mummified using Khnum’s jars. Once both men had been interred, the gods called them up to answer the questions of who made the better canopic jars. They were quite unhappy to learn this was why their lives had been cut short and swore revenge. This angered the gods and the manicurists were
trapped, prevented from moving on to the next world.”
Charlie ventured on. Edward could tell a better ghost story. He bought a round loaf of fresh bread and some other things from the vendor, paying two English pennies and an American one. The
vendor swore at him in Arabic and broken English, but Charlie gave him a grin. He knew what bread cost. He stored up the sound of the words to use next time he shopped. He tried some of the
Arabic words Edward had taught him and the vendor grinned, too. They went back and forth for a minute, until Charlie dropped a piastre in the merchant’s hand and thanked him for the new words.
He paused to watch a pretty girl with flashing dark eyes as she danced on a street corner. He dropped a silver two-piastre coin into the bowl at her feet and she sent him a smile. Only a couple of men were paying attention, so he stopped and watched a little more closely. She noticed and danced to him, her bare feet so light they barely seemed to touch the worn carpet she had spread as a makeshift stage. Her anklets jingled and the finger cymbals chimed
in his ears, making him want to join her.
She spun away from him, to the opposite edge and kissed one of the watching men, a tall man wearing a bright blue vest with gold embroidery. Charlie watched her dainty henna-patterned
hands come up on the sides of his face and press him to her after she unhooked one side of her veil. She lingered there, her feet and hips still moving, as the man moaned and shuddered. She released him and he sank to his knees as she danced away.
Edward’s words about women echoed in Charlie’s head. How would it be, Charlie wondered, having a woman that he wanted, not just one that wanted him as a trophy. The idea of having the dancer, with Edward there to help him and guide him along, consumed him.
She whirled toward him and then away, a cloud of myrrh and cassia from her veils fuddling his head. He dug in his purse and took out a whole pound note. She saw and he beckoned her over.
When she drew close, he held up the note and tried to negotiate in sign language.
She got the idea he wanted her and nodded. He held up two fingers and pointed to himself and then gestured, indicating a taller man. She smiled and linked her arm into his.
He entered the apartment, bread in one hand, girl on the other arm. Her name was Safi and she called him “Shar-lee,” making it almost two words. They hadn’t managed anything else. She spoke
no English and he spoke a dozen words of Arabic, four of them food, six numbers and two really foul curses he’d picked up from the baker. Learning from a military man had its drawbacks.
Once back in the hotel room, he set the bread on the table and had Safi sit down while he went to find Edward. His employer was up and shaving. Charlie took the razor from his hand before he cut himself.
“Sit down,” Charlie ordered. “You’re still shaky.” He rinsed the razor and stropped it. “How much Arabic do you speak?”
“Not much more than I taught you.” Edward watched Charlie, but relaxed when Charlie started to shave him.
“I have a girl.” Charlie pulled the straight razor over his skin with a brisk motion. “She came with me for a pound. She’s beautiful, a street dancer. Teach me?”
Edward looked at him as Charlie wiped the soap off his face. “A girl? Here?”
“Yes, she’s in the sitting room. I went out for bread and came back with her, too.” He hesitated. “Are you angry with me, sir?”
“Oh no, quite the contrary.” Edward smiled and pulled Charlie down to kiss him. “What would you like to tell her?”
“That I think she is very beautiful and that my master and I would like to make love to her until the sun sets and rises again.”
Edward looked puzzled for a moment. “I’m afraid that’s quite beyond my scope. We’ll just have to show her.”
“I hope you like her, sir. I saw her dancing and thought of what you said this afternoon.” Charlie led the way into the sitting room.
Safi sat where he’d left her. She smiled at him, her dark eyes enticing. “Shar-lee.” She held her arms open and Charlie went to her, breathing her perfume of myrrh and spice. Edward held back a little.
Charlie had reached her and was about to kiss her when Edward bolted across the room and thrust a flaming lucifer into her swirling veils.
Charlie dropped her arm and recoiled as she went up in flame, far too fast, burning more like dry paper than like a human being. In bare minutes, only dried ash and a whisper of myrrh remained. The chair wasn’t even scorched. A small golden pendant in the shape of a pot lay on the chair.
Edward gestured to a mirror that was angled so he could see the door in it. “Always use a silver mirror in strange countries, Charles. You never know what might follow you home."
October 18, 2012
Halloween goodies
Pic of the Day:
Sounds of the Season:
Excerpt of the Day from "Deadman's Curve", available in Into Dark Waters
SO not work safe
Things went as usual for a while. Rick slept days, worked nights. One evening in mid-routine, he saw Michael come in and take his usual booth. Sterling came out and talked to him for a minute. Things had changed backstage and Rick had a private dressing room now, the only dancer who did. Sterling said it was for Michael’s convenience, at Michael's expense. The man’s dark eyes followed Rick as he continued dancing, grinding himself against the pole, one hand holding the cowboy hat on. His vest flapped around his bare chest and his chaps left nothing to the imagination.
A little smile half-twisted Michael’s full mouth as Rick gave him a complete back view then spun to slide down the pole, acting as if he were licking it. The song ended. Rick collected his tips and costume and slipped back to his dressing room. Michael was there, waiting on the comfortable couch, the same sardonic smile on his face.
“Sterling gave me my exclusive,” he purred, his voice mellow and sensual, “and without a fight. He must despise you, boy.”
Rick smiled and hung up the parts of his costume. “As much as he despises all humans, sir." He emptied the tooled leather pouch of both his genitals and tips, unself-consciously naked before his client. He emptied the money into a locked box atop the vanity and dropped the pouch in a drawer with several others.
“So you know then." The purr sounded both amused and a little surprised.
Rick just smiled, meeting his exclusive’s eyes in the big oval mirror. “Just like I know you’re immortal of some sort.”
“Clever little whore, aren’t you?" Michael rose from the couch and pinned Rick to the vanity. Rick felt Michael's erection under his pants. Power games were Michael's thing, but Rick had played them long enough to understand all the rules.
“Not really. But Sterling said to do anything you wanted.”
Michael laughed, a low, ugly sound. “Anything?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Michael. Anything.”
Michael shoved him to his knees. “And if I broke your nose as you sucked me, forcing you to suffocate in your own blood?" He pressed close, rubbing against Rick’s face, letting him feel just how much harder the idea had made him. “How long until you wake back up, zombie slut?”
Rick grinned and rubbed his face against the bulge. He could smell the heady scent of Michael through his tailored trousers. “About four hours, I think. How can you tell?”
Michael pulled away a little and ran a hand over him about an inch from his skin. “Your aura. You’re dead, but there are no hougan marks or loup-garous in it. What sort of revenant are you?”
Rick shrugged. “The Rick kind. I woke up on a morgue slab after I cracked up my bike back in 1981. I just sort of kept waking up after being shot or killed. Lost my last job when a scene in a kink club I was working went really bad. I wound up getting hanged. Boy, did the police freak out when I stopped them from zipping the body bag. I can’t stand those things.”
“You talk too much." Michael bit at his neck, hard enough to leave a bruise. “I’m not killing you tonight." He settled back onto the couch. “Suck me off.”
Rick followed him and knelt between his feet, still naked. One large hand slid over his hair and down to trace his lips.
”Your mouth was made for this." Michael's dark eyes burned and Rick felt his own cock jerk against his belly.
“Anything you want,” Rick said and swallowed his cock.
Afterward, Michael had him stay kneeling. He adjusted Rick’s posture and position with taps from his belt until he was satisfied. Rick stayed there a long time while Michael just looked. He was looking at the floor, as Michael had insisted. Then he heard a ruffle, like a pack of playing cards released into the air, and several bills fluttered to the floor around him.
“Undead whore with dead presidents." Michael walked to the door. “Pick them up, in your teeth. And crawl."
Rick went to hands and knees and picked up the first bill.
“Excellent." Michael opened the door. “All of them, with your teeth. I’ll know if you don’t." He left, shutting it behind him. Rick didn’t know how he’d know, but he obeyed anyway. It was never a good idea to mess with immortals like that. He stashed the five hundred in fifties in his tipbox and dressed for his next routine.
Sounds of the Season:
Excerpt of the Day from "Deadman's Curve", available in Into Dark Waters
SO not work safe
Things went as usual for a while. Rick slept days, worked nights. One evening in mid-routine, he saw Michael come in and take his usual booth. Sterling came out and talked to him for a minute. Things had changed backstage and Rick had a private dressing room now, the only dancer who did. Sterling said it was for Michael’s convenience, at Michael's expense. The man’s dark eyes followed Rick as he continued dancing, grinding himself against the pole, one hand holding the cowboy hat on. His vest flapped around his bare chest and his chaps left nothing to the imagination.
A little smile half-twisted Michael’s full mouth as Rick gave him a complete back view then spun to slide down the pole, acting as if he were licking it. The song ended. Rick collected his tips and costume and slipped back to his dressing room. Michael was there, waiting on the comfortable couch, the same sardonic smile on his face.
“Sterling gave me my exclusive,” he purred, his voice mellow and sensual, “and without a fight. He must despise you, boy.”
Rick smiled and hung up the parts of his costume. “As much as he despises all humans, sir." He emptied the tooled leather pouch of both his genitals and tips, unself-consciously naked before his client. He emptied the money into a locked box atop the vanity and dropped the pouch in a drawer with several others.
“So you know then." The purr sounded both amused and a little surprised.
Rick just smiled, meeting his exclusive’s eyes in the big oval mirror. “Just like I know you’re immortal of some sort.”
“Clever little whore, aren’t you?" Michael rose from the couch and pinned Rick to the vanity. Rick felt Michael's erection under his pants. Power games were Michael's thing, but Rick had played them long enough to understand all the rules.
“Not really. But Sterling said to do anything you wanted.”
Michael laughed, a low, ugly sound. “Anything?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Michael. Anything.”
Michael shoved him to his knees. “And if I broke your nose as you sucked me, forcing you to suffocate in your own blood?" He pressed close, rubbing against Rick’s face, letting him feel just how much harder the idea had made him. “How long until you wake back up, zombie slut?”
Rick grinned and rubbed his face against the bulge. He could smell the heady scent of Michael through his tailored trousers. “About four hours, I think. How can you tell?”
Michael pulled away a little and ran a hand over him about an inch from his skin. “Your aura. You’re dead, but there are no hougan marks or loup-garous in it. What sort of revenant are you?”
Rick shrugged. “The Rick kind. I woke up on a morgue slab after I cracked up my bike back in 1981. I just sort of kept waking up after being shot or killed. Lost my last job when a scene in a kink club I was working went really bad. I wound up getting hanged. Boy, did the police freak out when I stopped them from zipping the body bag. I can’t stand those things.”
“You talk too much." Michael bit at his neck, hard enough to leave a bruise. “I’m not killing you tonight." He settled back onto the couch. “Suck me off.”
Rick followed him and knelt between his feet, still naked. One large hand slid over his hair and down to trace his lips.
”Your mouth was made for this." Michael's dark eyes burned and Rick felt his own cock jerk against his belly.
“Anything you want,” Rick said and swallowed his cock.
Afterward, Michael had him stay kneeling. He adjusted Rick’s posture and position with taps from his belt until he was satisfied. Rick stayed there a long time while Michael just looked. He was looking at the floor, as Michael had insisted. Then he heard a ruffle, like a pack of playing cards released into the air, and several bills fluttered to the floor around him.
“Undead whore with dead presidents." Michael walked to the door. “Pick them up, in your teeth. And crawl."
Rick went to hands and knees and picked up the first bill.
“Excellent." Michael opened the door. “All of them, with your teeth. I’ll know if you don’t." He left, shutting it behind him. Rick didn’t know how he’d know, but he obeyed anyway. It was never a good idea to mess with immortals like that. He stashed the five hundred in fifties in his tipbox and dressed for his next routine.
October 17, 2012
Halloween post
Pic of the Day
Sound of the Season: Turkish Song of the Damned
Excerpt, from "Prey" available in Howl at The Mistletoe Not Work Safe
The building had been used as shelter by transients. Bits of fires, graffiti, the occasional den in a sheltered corner where the remaining doors could be closed for protection from the wind and ice. I caught a few of these. The Flyer always ran a heart-tugging story on homelessness when the weather started getting cold.
I shot some of the graffiti. Most of it was basic crude intaglios: initials, drawings, dates. There were some more skilled artworks. One in particular made my skin crawl. I didn't recognize it, but I shot it anyway. It looked sort of like a summoning seal, but I'd never seen one with
eight points. The language around the edges looked like Latin and I figured I could translate once I got it developed. The seal had me curious, but it made me nervous at the same time. A low-grade stomach churn and the skin crawling on my neck like It was watching me -- whatever It was. I'd see what I could find in the occult section at work.
I finished the roll and got back in my Beetle. I drove out of the gate as darkness fell and straight to the nearest bar. After two drinks, my hands stopped shaking and I poured myself back into the bug and drove home. I'd develop the pics after work. I didn't feel like fooling with it
right now.
I didn't feel like eating either, so I just went to bed.
***
So pretty this one. Oh, Lord of Lust, let him... no, he didn't touch the seal. Damn. Ah! A picture. Now that I can work through. Yes, and he's a developer sort. When he develops that one he's mine. Mother Lilith, why do you put such mortals so near yet so far, like the temptations of
Heaven? Is it to remind us Winged Ones that we can have neither?
He's sleeping now. Father Asmodeus won't mind if I take a peek. Hm! Bisexual. He dreams of pretty red-haired girls and pretty blond boys at the same time. I wonder which way he'd like me better? The succubus shape never feels as right as my incubus form. Most demons are neuter
and we Winged Ones switch as the mood takes us. But a few, like me, have a distinct preference. I am male.
I conjure a mirror and look at myself, molding my features into what I have seen in his dreams. Blond doesn't look bad on me. I award myself a penis such as I have seen in paintings: as thick as my forearm and reaching to my knees. It juts straight out and I imagine taking him with it.
The way he would clench and gasp, the way he would be unable to scream for the pain as it rips into his fragile mortal body. In my mind's eye, the tip emerges from his throat to ejaculate over his face.
This stepbrother of mine is my lawful prey. He has taken my seal, my summoning route, to himself. I decide to chance a dreamsending. Asmodeus frowns on such, but what the Lord of Lust doesn't know won't hurt me.
Only El is omniscient, and he stopped caring for my kind when Mother flouted his command to return to the Man of Dust. I slip into my prey's dreams. I do not retain the prick I had chosen, but temper it to something more reasonable: as thick as my wrist and the length of a cubit.
He thinks he's a top! Isn't that precious? No, dear brother, you are mine.
Sound of the Season: Turkish Song of the Damned
Excerpt, from "Prey" available in Howl at The Mistletoe Not Work Safe
The building had been used as shelter by transients. Bits of fires, graffiti, the occasional den in a sheltered corner where the remaining doors could be closed for protection from the wind and ice. I caught a few of these. The Flyer always ran a heart-tugging story on homelessness when the weather started getting cold.
I shot some of the graffiti. Most of it was basic crude intaglios: initials, drawings, dates. There were some more skilled artworks. One in particular made my skin crawl. I didn't recognize it, but I shot it anyway. It looked sort of like a summoning seal, but I'd never seen one with
eight points. The language around the edges looked like Latin and I figured I could translate once I got it developed. The seal had me curious, but it made me nervous at the same time. A low-grade stomach churn and the skin crawling on my neck like It was watching me -- whatever It was. I'd see what I could find in the occult section at work.
I finished the roll and got back in my Beetle. I drove out of the gate as darkness fell and straight to the nearest bar. After two drinks, my hands stopped shaking and I poured myself back into the bug and drove home. I'd develop the pics after work. I didn't feel like fooling with it
right now.
I didn't feel like eating either, so I just went to bed.
***
So pretty this one. Oh, Lord of Lust, let him... no, he didn't touch the seal. Damn. Ah! A picture. Now that I can work through. Yes, and he's a developer sort. When he develops that one he's mine. Mother Lilith, why do you put such mortals so near yet so far, like the temptations of
Heaven? Is it to remind us Winged Ones that we can have neither?
He's sleeping now. Father Asmodeus won't mind if I take a peek. Hm! Bisexual. He dreams of pretty red-haired girls and pretty blond boys at the same time. I wonder which way he'd like me better? The succubus shape never feels as right as my incubus form. Most demons are neuter
and we Winged Ones switch as the mood takes us. But a few, like me, have a distinct preference. I am male.
I conjure a mirror and look at myself, molding my features into what I have seen in his dreams. Blond doesn't look bad on me. I award myself a penis such as I have seen in paintings: as thick as my forearm and reaching to my knees. It juts straight out and I imagine taking him with it.
The way he would clench and gasp, the way he would be unable to scream for the pain as it rips into his fragile mortal body. In my mind's eye, the tip emerges from his throat to ejaculate over his face.
This stepbrother of mine is my lawful prey. He has taken my seal, my summoning route, to himself. I decide to chance a dreamsending. Asmodeus frowns on such, but what the Lord of Lust doesn't know won't hurt me.
Only El is omniscient, and he stopped caring for my kind when Mother flouted his command to return to the Man of Dust. I slip into my prey's dreams. I do not retain the prick I had chosen, but temper it to something more reasonable: as thick as my wrist and the length of a cubit.
He thinks he's a top! Isn't that precious? No, dear brother, you are mine.
October 16, 2012
Lovers and other monsters
In honor of my oldest announcing her engagement, it's all romantic today...
Pic of the Day:
Sound of the Season:
Excerpt of the Day. From "Siul a Ruhn" in Howl at the Mistletoe . (limited supplies)
We stepped into a great clearing of moss-covered stones and straight aspen tress. The twilight filtered in, making the place look like a cathedral, one to whatever god watched over woodland creatures and werewolves. Cian laid his hands on a large clear boulder that stood at the bottom of the sloping glade like an altar.
I looked at Dan and he took my hand, nodding. A few months ago, I'd gotten ordained over the Internet on a whim. I suspected Dan had told our friends. I'd never expected to use it. Now I looked at Cian.
“This is perfect. Can you marry us? I'll do the same for you.”
Cian smiled and I could almost see that faint silvery shimmer that marked him as half-Sidhe. He nodded and beckoned us. Still holding Dan's hand, I walked to the altar, Without thinking about it, Dan and I went to our knees facing each other.
“We are here, tonight, to enact the age-old joining of two hearts and lives,” Cian said, his voice ringing through the trees as if the glade was full. “Mating, for wolves, is a life-long pairing. Mother Moon sanctifies the mating, not we mortals. We ask her blessing here tonight and that of all nature as well. Danior, do you take this one to be your mate and alpha wolf? To love him and run with him, to live with him and care for him, until the day you return to Mother?”
Dan clasped my hands a bit tighter and nodded. “I do.” His large eyes were full of his love for me and I knew this was the right choice.
Cian looked at me. “Paul, to be an alpha is a serious thing. It is to take responsibility for another's health and welfare all of your life. It is to put his needs before your own; to set his happiness higher than yours and to love, endlessly and unstintingly, until death takes you. Can you bear this burden?”
I looked into Dan's face and smiled. My Furball, big eyes and dark hair, short beard and laughing mouth, and behind it all the sharpest mind and biggest heart in the world. “I can. More, it's all I've ever wanted since I met him.”
“Then take the ring,” Cian looked at us, “You have a ring, aye?” I slipped it off Dan's right hand. Cian smiled more broadly when he saw it was a claddagh. “Take the ring and put it on your mate's hand, repeating after me-”
I followed his words, meaning every one. “I, Paul, take you Dan, to be my mate and love. To live with and love, to protect and honor, in all ways and places, until death takes me.”
Dan said the words back, putting the ring on my left hand. I was shaking by the time he was done. This was the biggest thing I'd ever done. More important than designing the county prison. Bigger than drafting that office building. Better even than saving the whole of existence.
“Now seal your pledges with a kiss, lads, and know you are blessed.”
I took Dan in my arms, kneeling there on the green moss in the fading light. The courthouse, our friends, everything faded before that reality. Him, me, and one perfect moment when our lips met and the realization struck us that we were bound together, mated as men and wolves until the end.
Pic of the Day:
Sound of the Season:
Excerpt of the Day. From "Siul a Ruhn" in Howl at the Mistletoe . (limited supplies)
We stepped into a great clearing of moss-covered stones and straight aspen tress. The twilight filtered in, making the place look like a cathedral, one to whatever god watched over woodland creatures and werewolves. Cian laid his hands on a large clear boulder that stood at the bottom of the sloping glade like an altar.
I looked at Dan and he took my hand, nodding. A few months ago, I'd gotten ordained over the Internet on a whim. I suspected Dan had told our friends. I'd never expected to use it. Now I looked at Cian.
“This is perfect. Can you marry us? I'll do the same for you.”
Cian smiled and I could almost see that faint silvery shimmer that marked him as half-Sidhe. He nodded and beckoned us. Still holding Dan's hand, I walked to the altar, Without thinking about it, Dan and I went to our knees facing each other.
“We are here, tonight, to enact the age-old joining of two hearts and lives,” Cian said, his voice ringing through the trees as if the glade was full. “Mating, for wolves, is a life-long pairing. Mother Moon sanctifies the mating, not we mortals. We ask her blessing here tonight and that of all nature as well. Danior, do you take this one to be your mate and alpha wolf? To love him and run with him, to live with him and care for him, until the day you return to Mother?”
Dan clasped my hands a bit tighter and nodded. “I do.” His large eyes were full of his love for me and I knew this was the right choice.
Cian looked at me. “Paul, to be an alpha is a serious thing. It is to take responsibility for another's health and welfare all of your life. It is to put his needs before your own; to set his happiness higher than yours and to love, endlessly and unstintingly, until death takes you. Can you bear this burden?”
I looked into Dan's face and smiled. My Furball, big eyes and dark hair, short beard and laughing mouth, and behind it all the sharpest mind and biggest heart in the world. “I can. More, it's all I've ever wanted since I met him.”
“Then take the ring,” Cian looked at us, “You have a ring, aye?” I slipped it off Dan's right hand. Cian smiled more broadly when he saw it was a claddagh. “Take the ring and put it on your mate's hand, repeating after me-”
I followed his words, meaning every one. “I, Paul, take you Dan, to be my mate and love. To live with and love, to protect and honor, in all ways and places, until death takes me.”
Dan said the words back, putting the ring on my left hand. I was shaking by the time he was done. This was the biggest thing I'd ever done. More important than designing the county prison. Bigger than drafting that office building. Better even than saving the whole of existence.
“Now seal your pledges with a kiss, lads, and know you are blessed.”
I took Dan in my arms, kneeling there on the green moss in the fading light. The courthouse, our friends, everything faded before that reality. Him, me, and one perfect moment when our lips met and the realization struck us that we were bound together, mated as men and wolves until the end.
October 15, 2012
Kitchen Witch Monday
Pic of the Day:
Sound of the Season:
No excerpt. Just one of my favorite halloween recipes:
Brain Dip:
1 cup mayonnaise plus 1 tablespoon
1 (10.5 oz.) can cream of mushroom soup
1 (8 oz.) package of cream cheese softened
1 (.25) envelope of Knox unflavored gelatin dissolved in 1/4 cup hot water
1/2 cup minced scallions
1 1/2 lbs. cooked bay shrimp
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
Pinch of salt
Directions
Use 1 tablespoon of mayonnaise to grease a 6-cup brain mold or a bunch of mini brain molds; set aside.
Pour contents of soup can in a medium saucepan and heat over medium until warm. Stir in cream cheese until melted. Stir in dissolved gelatin with water until blended. Add remaining ingredients and mix well.
Remove from heat and pour into brain mold. Chill until firm. Unmold on to a platter and serve with crackers.
Sound of the Season:
No excerpt. Just one of my favorite halloween recipes:
Brain Dip:
1 cup mayonnaise plus 1 tablespoon
1 (10.5 oz.) can cream of mushroom soup
1 (8 oz.) package of cream cheese softened
1 (.25) envelope of Knox unflavored gelatin dissolved in 1/4 cup hot water
1/2 cup minced scallions
1 1/2 lbs. cooked bay shrimp
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
Pinch of salt
Directions
Use 1 tablespoon of mayonnaise to grease a 6-cup brain mold or a bunch of mini brain molds; set aside.
Pour contents of soup can in a medium saucepan and heat over medium until warm. Stir in cream cheese until melted. Stir in dissolved gelatin with water until blended. Add remaining ingredients and mix well.
Remove from heat and pour into brain mold. Chill until firm. Unmold on to a platter and serve with crackers.
October 14, 2012
Sunday Treats
Pic of the Day
Not a song, but a whole Disney Cartoon!
No excerpt today. But if you right click here: http://www.brooksandsparrow.com/AintNoEasyRun.pdf
you can download an old Torquere Single Shot called "Ain't No Easy Run," about a trucker on a literal hellrun.
Not a song, but a whole Disney Cartoon!
No excerpt today. But if you right click here: http://www.brooksandsparrow.com/AintNoEasyRun.pdf
you can download an old Torquere Single Shot called "Ain't No Easy Run," about a trucker on a literal hellrun.
October 13, 2012
A fine October Weekend
There will be a new story to download tomorrow!
Pic:
Creepy Song of the Day:
"Nothing she said, not even a note...she's gone with the man in the long coat."
Paranormal Excerpt of the Day:
This is from "Five Time Loser: The Five of Pentacles" in Into Dark Waters
Not Work Safe
“I'm working on some time off. Not guaranteeing I'll get it on a weekend, though.”
“That's all right. I don't work.”
“I'll call you as soon as I get word. They've been running me hard lately.”
Pelton's smile carried over the line. “Ah, that way you have lots of money.” Tom knew he was teasing again. “You can take me out... Daddy.” He'd taken to tormenting Tom with that one since the evening Tom had greeted him with a cheerful “Who's your daddy?”
“Oh, yeah, I'll treat you to whatever you like.”
“Including a nice deep fuck?”
“Now that comes free.”
“I'd do it even without an outing, you know. Because you have the best looking cock I've seen.”
Tom groaned at this. Since he'd sent the pictures of his hard-on, Pelton never failed to mention how gorgeous it was. That always turned him on like a radio. “It's better in person. Fuck first, then outing.” He had his cock in hand again and wasn't sure when he'd laid hold. Pelton's voice was like a drug, making his head spin and his balls tight.
“I can't wait. You still rubbing? Going to come for me, or after I leave?”
“Almost there right now. Keep talking, pretty.”
“Wish I was there to do the rubbing, and to catch it when you did shoot.” Pelton made a soft slurp and Tom cried out, coming just from the thought of his spunk all over that pretty face and pouty mouth. Pelton purred. “Oh, yeah, bet you taste good. I love the taste. I'd lick you all clean.” Tom lay quietly and listed to Pelton's soft gasp. “I'd let you return the fa--favor--ah!”
Tom moaned quietly, imagining what Pelton must look like coming. “Damn...” he breathed.
There was silence on the line for a few moments. “Wow.” Pelton sounded far too perky. “I feel so much better.”
“Yeah. You and me both.” Tom yawned, the day's work and evening's pleasures having exhausted him.
“All right then. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Night, sweet.” Tom closed the phone, hanging up. He wanted to roll over and go straight to sleep. But he really needed to check in. He did the time conversion and figured Marybeth would still be awake.
She sounded half-asleep herself when she picked up. “Hi, Tom.”
“Hello, Sunshine.” He knew he sounded no better.
“You driving safe, sweetie? Hope you're shut down as wiped out as you sound.”
“Always. You know me. Just about ready to kip, and thought I should call my girl.”
“I know. My two-million mile man. How's the weather where you are? Icy? I saw the warnings.”
“Nah, it's warming up. No ice around here, just miles of wet pavement.” That was the truth. His outside temperature gauge read forty, well above freezing.
“When you gonna be home? I miss you.”
“That's why I called, babe. It's gonna be a couple days. They're keeping me busy.” He heard what sounded like a snore in the background and the sound of the bedsprings creaking. Marybeth was petite, and still thin. She didn't snore and springs never creaked under her weight. She wasn't missing him as much as she claimed, he suspected.
“All right. I'll see you when you get here. I'll make you something nice.”
The urge to call her on her overnight visitor faded fast. Tom acted as if he hadn't heard the man in the background at all. “Looking forward to that. Haven't had a piece of my baby's pie yet this month. Night, sweet.”
“Love you. Bye-bye,” she chirped.
He hung up, feeling strangely relieved over the presence of another in her bed. It hit him that he really didn't mind. Ten years ago he'd have turned the rig around and screamed for Toledo to beat the crap out of the interloper. Now he was just pleased she wasn't sleeping alone in cold weather.
***
Pelton closed the phone and walked into his chapel. He made shocking obeisance before the altar and then chanted, stroking himself. Five times he orgasmed into the fire, the last wrenched from him with a groan of agony.
“Father Asmodeus, Lord of Lust, hear my prayer and deliver me my desire,” he prayed.
Slowly, deliberately, with no extraneous movements, he reached out his left hand and knocked the semi-trailer off of the model rig.
Pic:
Creepy Song of the Day:
"Nothing she said, not even a note...she's gone with the man in the long coat."
Paranormal Excerpt of the Day:
This is from "Five Time Loser: The Five of Pentacles" in Into Dark Waters
Not Work Safe
“I'm working on some time off. Not guaranteeing I'll get it on a weekend, though.”
“That's all right. I don't work.”
“I'll call you as soon as I get word. They've been running me hard lately.”
Pelton's smile carried over the line. “Ah, that way you have lots of money.” Tom knew he was teasing again. “You can take me out... Daddy.” He'd taken to tormenting Tom with that one since the evening Tom had greeted him with a cheerful “Who's your daddy?”
“Oh, yeah, I'll treat you to whatever you like.”
“Including a nice deep fuck?”
“Now that comes free.”
“I'd do it even without an outing, you know. Because you have the best looking cock I've seen.”
Tom groaned at this. Since he'd sent the pictures of his hard-on, Pelton never failed to mention how gorgeous it was. That always turned him on like a radio. “It's better in person. Fuck first, then outing.” He had his cock in hand again and wasn't sure when he'd laid hold. Pelton's voice was like a drug, making his head spin and his balls tight.
“I can't wait. You still rubbing? Going to come for me, or after I leave?”
“Almost there right now. Keep talking, pretty.”
“Wish I was there to do the rubbing, and to catch it when you did shoot.” Pelton made a soft slurp and Tom cried out, coming just from the thought of his spunk all over that pretty face and pouty mouth. Pelton purred. “Oh, yeah, bet you taste good. I love the taste. I'd lick you all clean.” Tom lay quietly and listed to Pelton's soft gasp. “I'd let you return the fa--favor--ah!”
Tom moaned quietly, imagining what Pelton must look like coming. “Damn...” he breathed.
There was silence on the line for a few moments. “Wow.” Pelton sounded far too perky. “I feel so much better.”
“Yeah. You and me both.” Tom yawned, the day's work and evening's pleasures having exhausted him.
“All right then. I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Night, sweet.” Tom closed the phone, hanging up. He wanted to roll over and go straight to sleep. But he really needed to check in. He did the time conversion and figured Marybeth would still be awake.
She sounded half-asleep herself when she picked up. “Hi, Tom.”
“Hello, Sunshine.” He knew he sounded no better.
“You driving safe, sweetie? Hope you're shut down as wiped out as you sound.”
“Always. You know me. Just about ready to kip, and thought I should call my girl.”
“I know. My two-million mile man. How's the weather where you are? Icy? I saw the warnings.”
“Nah, it's warming up. No ice around here, just miles of wet pavement.” That was the truth. His outside temperature gauge read forty, well above freezing.
“When you gonna be home? I miss you.”
“That's why I called, babe. It's gonna be a couple days. They're keeping me busy.” He heard what sounded like a snore in the background and the sound of the bedsprings creaking. Marybeth was petite, and still thin. She didn't snore and springs never creaked under her weight. She wasn't missing him as much as she claimed, he suspected.
“All right. I'll see you when you get here. I'll make you something nice.”
The urge to call her on her overnight visitor faded fast. Tom acted as if he hadn't heard the man in the background at all. “Looking forward to that. Haven't had a piece of my baby's pie yet this month. Night, sweet.”
“Love you. Bye-bye,” she chirped.
He hung up, feeling strangely relieved over the presence of another in her bed. It hit him that he really didn't mind. Ten years ago he'd have turned the rig around and screamed for Toledo to beat the crap out of the interloper. Now he was just pleased she wasn't sleeping alone in cold weather.
***
Pelton closed the phone and walked into his chapel. He made shocking obeisance before the altar and then chanted, stroking himself. Five times he orgasmed into the fire, the last wrenched from him with a groan of agony.
“Father Asmodeus, Lord of Lust, hear my prayer and deliver me my desire,” he prayed.
Slowly, deliberately, with no extraneous movements, he reached out his left hand and knocked the semi-trailer off of the model rig.
