Friday, October 6, 2006

UNNNNNHHHHH!
'da sikaurai's ex-boyfriend located her whereabouts. He called the cops in her town of current residence, and told them that she was "suicidal, and a possible endangerment to the kids". . .

Lemme tell you why that's funny. . .

'da sikaurai is FAR from suicidal. And the only endangerment to the children that she provides is a complete lack of diversity when it comes to the dinner menu. Granted, sikaurai is tired. She works ten hours a night, third shift, while raising two children. And granted, she suffered a fit of stupidity the night that she broke down and called the sperm donor, with a request to take the children for awhile. When he "accidentally" called her by another woman's name--THREE times--'da sikaurai broke into a loud, gleeful rant about how she would like to personally see to it that he is physically altered in a way that would render him incapable of reproducing, ever again. . .

So where did suicide come into play? HOMICIDE, maybe. . .

At any rate, bastard ain't gettin' the kids. So there. That's 'da sikaurai's two cents for the day.


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Thursday, October 5, 2006

KEEPIN' IT SHORT AND SWEET
*YAWN*

'Kay, 'da sikaurai is pulling her book off her posts. Sorry. She is stretching herself too thin, here, and it suddenly occurred to her that the content of the book in future chapters is too explicit to safely post here on MyO--without receiving a few cyber-smacks to the back of m'hand. . . so I'm pulling out now while I still haven't generated enough interest.

I'd like to say a big THANK YOU, though, to the few otakuites who were dedicated enough to check it out. . . 'da sikaurai thinks that's awesome! And if anyone wants to check out the next couple chapters, they are more than welcome to visit sikaurai's perverted alter-ego, 'da bowerydweller, on deviantART.com.

'da sikaurai thinks she will stick with MyO, though, for posting art--er, well, the artwork that ISN'T graphic, anyway. . . um. . . though those submissions are slowly dwindling. Hmmm.

ANYWAY. . . 'da sikaurai would like to post a "random" (although, not really) question for her readers: What is the most important aspect to you in a fantasy novel? IE.: what factor of a literary piece is imperative to make you wanna run to the nearest Barnes and Noble?

Just curious.
EEK! AND HERE'S ANOTHER UKYO PIC!


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Wednesday, October 4, 2006

KIDS SAY THE DARNEDEST THINGS. . . and WAR OF THE REALMS CH. TWO
'da sikaurai's four year-old daughter is a very winning, yet inarticulate, child. Her communication skills are lacking for her developmental stage. However, as frustrated as sikaurai gets sometimes, she realizes that communication barriers can serve as amusing experiences, sometimes. . .

Her daughter hates having her hair combed. 'da sikaurai has to literally chase the kid around the house and pin her between her knees to get a comb through the beast's blond mop. And yesterday, as 'da kid wriggled in distress as sikaurai held her down, intent on untangling her snarled locks, 'da kid said something pretty funny. . . something that made sikaurai give up in laughter . . .

. . . "IT'S GETTING OFF BECAUSE YOU'RE PULLING IT SO HARD!!!"

*wipes eyes*
Ohhhhh, sikaurai needs a time-out. . .

Anywayyyyyy. . . here's the next chapter in the book:

Miles below the ceiling of the blue and pink planet’s atmosphere, the valley of the Tierbrunh spread its arms across the countryside, cast in shadows against a troubled horizon. The world was in turmoil, even in the land of the Dominion Mother Republic, the watchdog of Azsynthe’s most powerful body of commerce. The Dominion has representatives appointed to the planet’s supreme political power, the Deis Firuge, which consists of the figureheads, high priests and priestesses, and rulers of every powerful nation on Azsynthe. The ancient shelter of the Dominion’s headquarters offered no solace these days to it’s part-time residents. The Deis Firuge, considered to be the planet’s greatest intellectual resource, had direct access to the Mother Council For Intergalactic Unity’s agenda against their world.

A tall, slender figure stood with her arms crossed as she contemplated the transmittal from Azsynthe’s Ground Control. The sight of the space barge’s explosion lit up the corners of the council room as ground control ended it’s satellite feed. The screen went black as the Priestess Sylhnaan turned her back to it, facing a room filled with pale-faced politicians and monarchs, figureheads, priests, and priestesses.

“And so it begins,” she announced calmly. “ The quadrant has turned it’s back on us, and in return we are responsible for another loss due to inaction.” She descended the marble stairs to the room’s sunken core. She lowered herself in her seat, at the head of the table where countless faces drank in her every move, enraptured and terrified.

Sylhnaan is the priestess of Azsynthes’ northeastern territory, the sovereign of Tierbrunh. She is also the first cyborg to take a powerful position in the planet’s political structure. Her organic eye, a brilliant green, surveyed the room with a tiny hint of remorse. “Have we grown so complacent that we can just sit here while thousands—no, millions—die at the hands of the Ancients? Can we sit here like we assume that we will never attract their wrath?”

“I understand your fears,” one man replied, breaking the silence in a sea of white faces. He leaned forward and folded his hands in front of him on the table. He stared into her eyes, unwavering. The cyborg priestess looked him over, calmly, contemplating his cleanly pressed suit, his slicked back coif, and his self-important demeanor. She recognized him as the prime minister of one the lesser sovereignties in the southern continent. “I understand your fears,” he repeated slowly, measuring his words. “But our hands are tied at this point. Unlike your entourage and their refusal to cooperate directly with the intergalactic empire, my people have been keeping up to speed on the reports filed by the Cairos.” He frowned as he regarded her, pushing his glasses in place on his nose.

“Um, I know you don’t like to deal with the extraterrestrials, your highness, but the intergalactic council is currently holding the fate of our planet in their hands. They regulate our communications with outside worlds, our interplanetary trade and transit—everything.”

“Really,” Slyhnaan replied dryly. “I am well aware of this.” She offered him a sardonic smile. “Despite my alleged lack of cooperation with them. However, I still believe that we should be able to address our concerns directly to the council. This quarantine that we’ve been placed us on will eventually do more harm than good.” She turned away, waving carelessly at him. “So tell me, prime minister. Give me the latest update on the reports filed by the Cairos.”

The prime minister readjusted his glasses and bent over his lap-sized console, perched perfectly over his knees. “According to the reports filed last week—approved by the Mother Council—the planet Azsynthe is to remain sectioned off from any trade activities. No ships are allowed to enter orbit around the planet, and certainly none are permitted to dock. Any attempts to leave xynthian airspace after announcement of quarantine will be thwarted, by destruction of any departing ship. Also, as an addendum, no ships are permitted to breach airspace. Violation is punishable by destruction of said vessel. No questions asked.”

“Well, we just saw a perfect example of said addendum,” Sylhnaan’s eyes drifted to the hardcopy reports in his possession.

“May I?” she asked softly. The prime minister cleared his throat and nodded brusquely at her, passing them over. She rose and leaned forward. She inspected them, her organic eye narrowing to little more than a slit. “So in other words, any otherwordly visitors already on our planet prior to the quarantine are trapped here until further notice?”

“Everybody. Tourists, traders—perhaps even several smugglers managing to encroach upon docking space. Security has been reinforced doublefold.” He motioned for the priestess to seat herself. She obliged, gracefully gliding into the chair nearest her.
“Then we must address the council.”

“WE must NOT,” the prime minister replied harshly. “If we mind ourselves, and cooperate with their agenda, it may be possible to salvage the whole situation should they choose to reward us for our patience. The Mother Council may see it fit to deliver supplies until the quarantine lifts.”

Sylhnaan’s eye widened and she leaned back, uttering one loud bark of caustic laughter. “Spoken like a true cog on the wheel of bureacracy,” she responded softly, almost kindly, her head tilted to one side as she crossed her long, alloy-clad legs. “The quadrant has us on the bottom of their agenda. Don’t place yourself so highly in their eyes. They have more important issues to tend to than our population, dying in the vastness of some unexplained dementia.” She tapped her long fingers against the console, as she stroked her chin thoughtfully, distractedly. The priestess Sylhnaan had always been prone to distraction. So many things on her mind, these days.

“They will send their scientists, when they deem it safe to venture here. They will intervene when millions of us have already been lost, when the last of our political hierarchy has been obliterated due to mutiny and uprising, and rightly so. Our people want action now. People worldwide are dying. Some third-world communities have already disappeared, en masse. And here we sit, in our marble tower watching while our world dies at the hands of the ancients.”

The prime minister snorted. “The ‘ancients’ again. You don’t know that. We don’t know what’s causing this. Maybe we should wait for the Master Counsel’s intervention before we make up theories as to what’s really killing off our planet. It could be some contaminant in the oceans, or a combination of scientific reasons.”

The soft smile faded from Sylhnaan’s face and her eye narrowed. She rose from her seat and leaned over the table. The other members of the meeting shrank away, if only imperceptibly, maybe even unconsciously. The high priestess of the Dominion Republic was a force to behold.

She was the most enigmatic of the planetary figureheads. Despite her technological enhancements and resulting deformity, she still possessed a shadow of her former beauty. Her long, cinnamon-colored hair was wrapped high above her feathered headdress, and her lips were full and luscious. The right half of her face was shielded behind a brushed steel mask, and her bionic eye glowed red and impersonal, an almost obscene comparison to her brilliantly green left eye. Tracks of wiring and circuitry coursed paths across her torso, embedded in roads of plastic and alloy. Her limbs were freakishly long, yet she moved with the grace of a gazelle. She was painful to look at, and yet the prime minister’s gaze was unwavering as he attempted to stare her down. She leaned closer to him, sneering.

“Yes, you are people of science and reasoning. But where does your science come in when an entire world is befouled, falling prey to death in their sleep? Have you had the dreams, yet, Bankutsu? Have you seen the demons’ faces in your nightmares, yet? Or have they not yet come for you? Because eventually they will notice you too, Bankutsu. And when they do, your science will not save you. AS the leader of your society, it would do you good to seek salvation within the chronicles of the Kai’ash.”

“Garbage, Sylhnaan,” Bankutsu snarled. “Your old-world witchcraft stories don’t hold any water in politics. We’re talking real-life here, not fantasies. I don’t want to hear any more of these camp-fire stories of yours.”

Another member of the counsel, sitting at the prime minister’s right, suddenly snapped to attention at the sound of Bankutsu’s protest. She was a heavier set, dark-skinned woman, with gray hair pulled back across her head in dreaded braids. She was adorned in the robes of a Tierbrunn minister, and held the air of importance about her. She waved Bankutsu aside, and leaned forward, meeting Sylhnaan’s gaze with her intelligently dark eyes. “What is the Kai’ash?”

Sylhnaan straightened up, and the spark deserted her eye. “The Kai’ash is the ancient book, the chronicles of an old religion. The chronicles are darkly toned, somber, and uncompromising. The verses speak not of gentle saviors, or benevolent deities. Instead, the old religion focuses on a god-like creature—one whom has arisen from the dead of another dimension. It is Kyonei, an omnipotent beast, neither male nor female, resurrected every several millennia to pass judgment upon mortalkind.”

The minister’s neighbor nodded his head. He was a firm-jawed, older man of some infamy in his homeland. “Yes, I also have heard of Kyonei. Some of the older sovereignties on my continent still have temples dedicated to worshipping It. It is said that Kyonei’s guises are volcanic and tempestuous; It’s motives behind the repeated visitations into the surmised Holy Lands remain controversial among our theologists; the final verses of the Kai’ash are not promising ones. “

The minister made a face. “So you think that this is it? This is Judgment time?”

Sylhnaan whirled away from the table, pacing thoughtfully. The older woman contemplated the sight of the cyborg; her history was questionable. Not even her closest, oldest employees could say for sure what circumstances led her to lose her previous identity. Rumors circulated among the Deis Firuge that a horrible accident had left her completely incapacitated; others whispered that her bionic visage was the result of a whim of insanity. No one would ever voice their curiosity to the priestess herself. The minister was no different, yet she found that a deep-rooted respect of the ruling cyborg had left her fascinated with Sylhnaan.

Sylhnaan’s words came out slowly, distractedly as she paced the floor, talking more to herself than to the consulate. “No, not Kyonei. This planet-wide mayhem, this mass destruction with no obvious motive, is not It’s way. However, the cause of the planet’s torment can be interpreted in the ancient verses. It is said that Kyonei, long ago—before the creation of mortalkind—invaded the space ordained to have belonged to collective of other space-traveling beings. They were malevolent spirits, wandering aimlessly throughout the vacuum of their spatial boundaries. It is said that Kyonei battled ruthlessly for their territory, and ousted them from its borders. It created a celestial body in the path of an orange star, and throughout the following eons, molded it into a life-wielding planet. Kyonei guarded It’s new toy jealously against invaders, while breathing life onto the planet’s surface.”

Slylhnaan stopped pacing. “The former tenants of this corner of the galaxy may have come back to claim what was once theirs. But in order to have done this, they would have needed a portal into this plane of reality. The one that houses our Azsynth.”

Bankutsu offered a bark of caustic glee. “Are you for real?”

Sylhnaan ignored him. “Think about this, then,” she offered the consulate, ponderously. “Think of the bind we are in. Let me explain it to you in your terms: due to this mass sickness befouling our beautiful world, whole citadels are falling prey to death in their sleep. So as a result, vivid and paralytic nightmares are leaving us –a great percentage of our masses—deranged or delusional. Then, suddenly, a great percentage of sovereign citizens are maimed and mutilated with no tagged suspects for the heinous crimes. Our scientists have already determined that for each murder committed, the victim had had violent dreams for several consecutive nights before their violent deaths. Our people are scared, Bankutsu, and yet, we sit here in our ivory towers, doing nothing.”

She turned on the council, her expression unreadable. “Loudly, impassioned, our people have sought help from us. Our hands are tied, so to speak. To compound our troubles, the Mother Council for Intergalactic Unity has placed an airspace quarantine on Azsynthe, cutting us off from intergalactic trade, commerce, and tourism. No ship can penetrate orbital airspace surrounding us; no extraplanetary vessels are permitted to breach our atmospheric parameters—and no one from the planet’s surface is permitted to leave orbital airspace. Due to the growing dementia and the alarming percentage of unsolved murders spreading within our sovereignties, I can understand the Mother Council’s desire to keep the heat from spreading to other planets. BUT. . . we still need supplies from other worlds—our trade prestige is now damaged beyond any chance of repair. Thousands of offworlders are literally being held hostage by the Mother Council’s decision to eradicate our consideration in intraquadrant transit, and these same visitors to our world are now clamoring for their rights to be released to their own worlds, and to be returned to their friend, their relatives, their loved ones. There is literally no escape, for us, for them. The Cairos Quadrant has even gone so far as to post Mother Council’s military platoons to police our planetary parameters. Do you understand the implications? And you still wish to leave your future in their hands?”

A wispy-haired gentleman toward the end of the table nodded his head. “This whole thing is a public-relations nightmare.”

“Exactly,” Sylhnaan pointed her finger toward the council members as she glided past them,

“That is it exactly, my friends. And so now, with nowhere else to turn, consider this. A handful of people in my employ, my most dedicated and loyal workers, come back to me with rumors. They tell me that they have discovered the whereabouts of this portal. It exists on this planet now. And it is in the guise of a mortal girl. She must be found. She must be neutralized.”

The cyborg priestess raised her arm to the sky in conviction and her gaze burned in both triumph and urgency.

“And she knows not what she is.”


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Tuesday, October 3, 2006

DEVIANT HITS!!!!
WOW!!! 'da sikaurai posted two pics on DA, and within two minutes--and she is NOT exaggerating--she got SEVENTEEN hits on one, and FIVE on the other *does the happy dance*

Who's your daddy, huh--who's your. . . oh.
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MORE ART UP. . . AND THE FIRST CHAPTER. . .
Welp, I said I would put it up. . . and I did. Kinda long, though. . . and hey, theO actually put up the CENSORED version of my pic that accompanied the HUMILIATION story. . . that's cool.

Anyway. . . *deep breath*. . .here goes. . .
FEEDBACK PLEASE!!! sikaurai is testing her marketability factor, before she shells out nine-hundred dollars for her Xlibris contract. . .


The planet of Azsynthe loomed ahead, a softly glowing orb of various shades of blue and pink. Through the silence of space, the planet spun with an almost ominous presence, shrouded in vast silence. The clouds that hovered just beyond its atmosphere shimmered brilliantly; the infamous planet Azsynthe now seemed like an ancient trap to weary travelers, like a celestial siren in a pool of eternity, spreading arms wide for unfortunate spacefarers.

The small figure at the helm of the space barge tapped her chin as she contemplated the white light surrounding the planet’s atmosphere. Not close enough to orbit just yet, but close enough to communicate with the planet’s ground control. Her fingers massaged the controls, disturbed by the warning bells in her head.

“What is the problem with me?” she asked herself, staring still straight ahead. The planet gave no heed to her ambivalence. “We need to dock with Azsynthe, but we’ve all heard the stories. If they don’t give us amnesty, my crew is lost.” She exhaled, and the loss of breath sounded like a whirlwind to her ears in the protected containment of vinyl space gear. Finally, she snapped her head alert and pressed the control on the panel to her left.

“Captain, we’re attempting orbit around Azsynthe.”

“Good,” came the confident response from her helm, the voice cracking against static. “Stand your course and open communications with the Deis Firuge.”

“Yes sir”.

She shook her head uncertainly as she removed her headgear. She leaned closer to the communications console before, narrowing her eyes as she struggled to remember all that she had heard about the planet Azsynthe. As far she knew, the planet is a subsidiary world of the Cairos Quadrant, same as her home planet. The Cairos, a spatial collective under the ownership of the Mother Council For Intergalactic Unity, had recently declared Azsynthe under trading boycott. She shook her head at the thought of the Mother Council, a superpower of undeniable omniscience. They control innumerable worlds within many galaxies, monopolizing regulations on all interplanetary real estate and resources, as well as intergalactic trade, communications, and transit. But just as they regulate all functions of interplanetary existence, many of their actions as of late have been raising questions among the general public. Among them was the quarantine of Azsynthe. Until recently, the pink and blue planet was well known for its possession of many flourishing cultures and beautiful landscapes—an obvious asset to the Mother Council.

The switchboard lit up in response as she leaned closer to the communications panel before her.

“Quadrant C4-Azsynth ground control”, her voice at once lowered, and became more ensured, at last in control, as she sank into the depths of her command. “Quadrant C4, Azsynth Ground, please acknowledge. This is Barge C14 of Quadrant 4, the Maiden Medusa, on course to the planet Andriann. Please acknowledge.”

She inhaled as she stared hard at the sight of the ominous planet before her. It loomed massively through the sterile view of her ship’s helm porthole. Radio silence was the only response for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, a crackle of static startled her to attention. She realized she had been holding her breath the entire time.

“This is Azsynthe Ground,” came the crisp reply from the helm. “You are in unauthorized orbit around quarantined airspace. We respectfully request you to break course.”

“We are on a routinely scheduled drop-off mission to planet Andriann,” she responded firmly, trying to quell the rising panic in her heart. “We have experienced technical damage to our aft containment computers, which have caused the barge to purge fuel. We are now perilously close to empty, according to our gauges, and we need to re-fuel. We respectively wish to dock for refueling, and we will be on our way.”

“That will be a negative, Maiden Medusa of Quadrant 4,” came the ground’s response. “As per the orders of the Mother Counsel of the Quadrant, we are on high quarantine alert. No interspatial travelers may breach the parameters of orbiting airspace. Refusal to acknowledge the wishes of the Counsel may result in force.”

“We have eleven crewmembers on board!” Panic gave way to rage. She slammed her hands against the control panel as she pounded the captain’s PA communicator. The switchboard beeped a warning. “You can’t refuse us the right to land! You would be breaking treaty! There is no other place for us to go! Our life support systems have only days to go, and the nearest refueling station is in the next solar system. You’re condemning us to death!”

“Once again, negative, Barge C14,” the helm responded soullessly. The voice of Azsynth’s Ground Control did not quaver, and offered no remorse. “ Let us remind you that the breach of quarantined airspace results in force, possibly resulting in termination of your crew. If you do not break orbit, we will be forced to remove you. Consider this your last warning, as authorized by the Mother Counsel.”

A loud crack from the panel snapped the small spacefarer out of her seat. She realized then that the link had been terminated. She shook in fury as she contemplated the thought that an entire world had just turned it’s back on her plight, offering her no second thought as she would, brushing away a fly.

She stood there, her silhouette outlined by the glowing silence of space. Seconds passed away like hours, as she stared ahead, her arms folded across her vinyl-clad chest. Finally, she pressed a finger hard against the comm.

A tired voice raised the shadows of the room. “Captain?” she hailed the old man in calm resolution. “Did you hear?”

“Yes, dear,” the captain responded in a hail of static. “You have your orders.”

She nodded firmly. At her hands, the ship dipped smoothly and dove forward, silently, toward the looming planet. The words to an old song lilted through her mind, Why, you could have been a star. . . .

she hummed thoughtlessly to herself as two small one-man ships broke the atmosphere, knifing through the vacuum in a beeline straight for her helm. Her switchboard lit up in warning sirens, but she ignored them, humming cheerlessly still. The last thing to enter her mind as the ship broke apart under the force of the patrol ships’ aggression, was “It’s haunted . . . ”

The night’s sky erupted in noiseless explosions, casting shadows on Azsynth’s glowing atmosphere.


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Monday, October 2, 2006

FEEDBACK ON SIKAURAI'S 'HUMILIATION' EXCERPT!
Awesome! sikaurai's deviantART account is getting some hits--how sweet! Although, heh, she did get some HATE mail regarding the 'Humiliation' excerpt that she had slapped into her literature gallery.

It DOES have mature content. sikaurai DID warn people ahead of time. . .

But her favorite criticism came from her real-world friend RYAN, who is also trying to publish a book. And via GMAIL, he said this. . .
*cut-and-paste*

i know a very good phycologist that i would be happy to hook you up with. would also suggest you invoke the same security guide lines for your home as the tsa does at airports. no sharp objects, lighters, fluids, international terrorists, firearms, or explosives. other than that very good and again i have been made fully aware of how lacking my writing is concerning description.

ISN'T HE WITTY???? I LOVE HIM *slobbers*

Well, tomorrow I should have some more art up.

And tomorrow, I will start posting pages of my book on MyO, as well. Hope everyone has a good day. . .

CHEERS!!!!!!

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Sunday, October 1, 2006

THAT'S AWESOME. . . SIKAURAI IS A HAPPY IDIOT. . . WHEE!
The cyber-world is so MUCH fun. . .people can say whatever's on their mind. . .and not worry about repercussions. . .

I had only four hours of sleep (DAMMIT!!!), so instead of doing housework, I was having some happy and non-strenuous conversations on Instant Messenger, and then, from out of nowhere. . .

sikaurai gets dissed.

Conferencing kinda makes sikaurai uneasy. But sikaurai is collaborating with a friend from back home on a possible art-for-pay gig--money's COOL, MAN!!!! I could use some of that. . .

Well, on the conference session, one of the "others". . . (sikaurai is kind of confused, because she doesn't know which one of her friends originally invited this person into the conversation in the first place). . . came on and announced that sikaurai/bowerydweller must be a sheltered idiot, because she exudes so much vapid good cheer, like some kind of dim-witted simpleton.

(??????)

sikaurai is not sheltered, number one. SO NOT!!! Number two--after sikaurai scraped her jaw off the keyboard--she politely pointed out that there is too much depression in this world already. . . so if you can change the world, change it, by all means. People take themselves too damn seriously, I think. And if you wanna be all serious and somber, all the time, that's your gig, and sikaurai respects that. THAT'S COOL. But sikaurai is all about spreading 'da love and cheer, and if you can't handle that, well. . . good on ya, I guess. Good luck with that surgery, then. . . my prayers are with you. You know, the big surgery. . . getting that bug removed from your ass. (oops, did I really put that in?)

THAT'S COOL, MAN!!!!! That was a cool little vent, and sikaurai feels MUCH BETTER. . . zzzzzzzz. . .
OH, EVEN THOUGH UKYO WENT OUT LIKE A PUSSBAG LAST NIGHT, I STILL GOT A COOL LIL' PIC OF HIM BELOW. . .
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I FINALLY ACCOMPLISHED MY GOAL. . .CAN I GO PASS OUT NOW?
Yay!!! sikaurai did it!! sikaurai finally got to see the English-dubbed version of Samurai7's final episode!!!! She stayed up with a fellow otakuite and watched it, even though her body is finally starting to shut down after three days of no sleep. Gawd, sikaurai can't feel her extremities, anymore. . . she's numb and bleary-eyed--could somebody please help her remain vertical while she chips her contacts away from her eyes?

If she is lucky, sikaurai will sleep in today. . . *snort* Yeah, right! Working on the latest pic to add to the portfolio. . . a dark and depressing representation as defined in her excerpt "Humiliation"--which is, once again, posted in her DeviantArt account. Viewed 10 times, but no comments. Oh, well. At least somebody out there was paying attention. . . and as a small consolation, her Dark Angel pic was added to somebody's favorite list!!!! Please 'scuse her while she hugs herself! YAY!

Hey, with that said, here's my latest pic of Ukyo. . . WHEEEEEE!



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Saturday, September 30, 2006

OH, AND A REMINDER. . .
PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE take my previous disclaimer seriously. My works are posted on dA because submission rules are a little more lax. If you, as a reader, are easily offended, or are inclined to believe that a writer's works tend to reflect the personality of the writer herself --WHICH THEY DON'T!!!!-- then please refrain from browsing through sikaurai's "bowerydweller" account.

P.S.: the HUMILIATION excerpt, which has been carouseling out-of-control on MSN IM as of late, is finally up on DA. Thanks for your support, everyone. . .
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SWEET!!! HERE IT COMES!
Well, that clinches it. Guess I'll be posting the big ENDEAVOR. . . yes, with a capital "D". . . on my homepage. Also, the series opening to the "War of the Realms" will be posted on Deviant Art. . . along with my more sordid and graphic sketch portfolio--you know, the stuff I can't post on MyO, heh heh.

The pics are based off of the literature. . . so if you must flame me for the artwork, then you'll have to read the story, first. Everything may seem a tad explicit, but the writer is not taking gratuitous liberties. All acts are imperative to the plot, I SWEAR!!! So with that said, before I give out the link, here's the general disclaimer: pics will be rated R; (the story is, well, open to the public).

Don't go racing off to my site in a fit of morbid curiousity, just YET. The pics won't go up until the end of the month. But the book is currently posted, one chapter per day.

Here ya go: http://bowerydweller.deviantart.com/

Enjoy! And sikaurai is not posting this link for her health, y'know. Comments are NOW being elicited. . .feedback is encouraged for the sake of improvement in the process. . . as sikaurai is testing the marketability of her literature.
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