oh yeah

Apr. 13th, 2013 06:53 am
jainajade: (don't judge me so harsh little girl)
This journal no longer receives updates from my Twitter account. It might be awhile before I update again. Until that fateful day, I hope to traipse around Profusion and occasionally update @JainaJade (also archived on Pinboard).

Have a pleasant lunar cycle!
jainajade: (Default)

10:43 @Suitov I wonder if maybe they also recognize languid movement as a sign of unhealthy prey. #

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jainajade: (Default)
((This entire post is OOC. Feel free to respond IC or OOC!))

I've been experimenting with crossposting Twitter updates from http://twitter.com/jainajade into this LJ, but I'm not sure if I like it. Do you?

I'd hoped to post Twitter updates here to help keep the LJ folks apprised of Jaina-related happenings. Perhaps it would be better to have a separate LJ for the Twitter posts, so people who want them can read them but people who hate LoudTwitter with a firey passion can keep it off their flist.

So, um, help please. I want your opinions!
jainajade: (Default)

22:17 Every so often, he says something so sad that I feel sorry for the lunkhead: weft.livejournal.com/46016.html #

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20:04 Resumed activity around #profusion . I really owe Ice an explanation for being off the grid for so long, but I'm not sure I have one. Damn. #

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jainajade: female vampire hunter posing by stained glass window (JJ window)

The Five Love Languages

My primary love language is probably
Quality Time
with a secondary love language being
Physical Touch.

Complete set of results

Quality Time: 11
Physical Touch: 8
Acts of Service: 5
Words of Affirmation: 4
Receiving Gifts: 2


Information

Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.

Take the quiz

So... I've basically been "starving" myself when I work too long? Oh, that has got to change.

((OOC: Was expecting this girl to be more tactile, but turns out she's all about the personal quality time. I guess I don't know her as well as I thought.))
jainajade: (Default)
Alone in energy-conserving dimness, Jaina ran her fingers over her new toy. The vending machine had called it a PINpoint, which sounded a good deal tinier than it was was. It looked like a clunky mobile phone circa 1997 A.D.

She abruptly illuminated her hand around the PINpoint, casting eerie shadows within its screen and over her shoulder, and tried to decide what to do. This device could be the answer to questions she hadn't dared to ask herself -- what if something happens to me away from my friends? How could they know? Could they do anything to help?

But there's no such thing as a free lunch or free answer. There's always a bill attached when you look. And this? It was meant to communicate and transport across dimensions. Did it track dimensional co-ordinates? Would it forward them to whoever built and offered these things? Who might that be?

Her light rippled unbidden up her arm as she imagined a vast plot whereby vampires could obtain passage to sunless worlds, or worlds with harmless suns, and feed, feed, feed.

"Stop it," Jaina said aloud. The words jarred in the silent bedsit and disrupted her reverie.

Ice might know. Or he might want to dissemble the device to see how it worked. She suspected she still couldn't predict his reactions as well as he could hers.

She sighed and chucked the phone-thing into her open duffel. "Fuck."

The PINpoint might prove harmless. There were people who charged for killing monsters, after all, and Jaina did it for free -- not because of ulterior motives toward the victims, but because she got something else out of it. Perhaps this device's supplier had similarly benevolent designs.

But just in case...

Well, it had come to her homeworld with her. If it was tracking and sending data, any recipient already had this much. That potential mistake couldn't be undone. It hadn't been aboard ship yet. Wouldn't, either, until she had some answers.

Resolved, Jaina leaned back and soon feel asleep.
jainajade: rear view of woman viewing urban ruins (faceless)
Bwahahah!

I escaped from Moonbase Jainajade!

I killed Not In Denial the nutrivend drinks machine and Zieistari the engineer.

I salvaged a SUITOV-10 plasma rifle, a nighttimelithium crystal, a Letotariqian raygun, an STAKES-140 phaser and 27 galacticredits.

Score: 217

Explore Moonbase Jainajade and try to beat this score,
or enter your username to generate and explore your own space adventure...



I win! Except I killed my sister and a nifty dude. Oops.

Try again? Y/N
jainajade: woman's face in light shadow (shadowed)
What's wrong with me?

I keep ordering drinks, swallowing them, hoping they'll calm the storm in my stomach. They don't. Alcohol won't fix this but I haven't any better ideas.

There are things I should be doing. Vampires, generally speaking, don't off themselves. I'm not sure of the time differential, but I think Ice must have missed me by now. I owe him an explanation. Not that I have one....

There are two of me. One shrieks at me to do my duty while her twin wails on that I cannot abandon my individual desires. Inside my gut, they're kicking each other to pieces. They bellow all the while about higher power, love, responsibility, freedom, family, and friends. I don't know who will win. Surely not my belly.

This is stupid. Booze, melancholy, all of it. I should get out of here, to business or to pleasure, or just to get out of here before I unravel further.

So why does my hand beckon for another glass?

on cooking

Oct. 2nd, 2006 04:53 am
jainajade: female vampire hunter posing by stained glass window (JJ window)
The problem with cooking is that it's boring. I can wait an hour for a ravening corpse to return to its grave, fairly watchful all the while, but a pot of boiling water is not a cunning foe. It won't arbitrarily choose to remain with a friend for the night, or to sneak back long before the first blush of dawn. It will just sit there, being boring.

An old Terran saying holds that a watched pot never boils. I believe this has been scientifically proven somewhere -- possibly somewhere with slightly different physics than Terra, true, but I am adamant that there is proof to be found. There may be a slight exception to this if one's eyes fire lasers, an ability with limited use in battle but invaluable in the kitchen, but most people can do nothing but wait and try to not look. Looking resets the time until it finally boils. I'm certain of it.

Or, new plan. I could stuff the whole enterprise and see what grub's on at the Inn. Patience required: zero.

New plan it is.
jainajade: female vampire hunter posing by stained glass window (JJ window)
That Lance! Asking me personal questions in public, I mean really. And Sir Suitov there is no help. Those... those males! They'd let me blush myself into a red death!

Don't tell them, because I think they already know, but I love every minute of it.

So there's some newer folks around the Inn, and some old faces (Holy cheese, guys, we're OLD!), and everything's going amazingly well. I'm not sure what to make of it. Aren't there supposed to be ginormous dramas that give no-one time to actually think? Isn't my most pressing matter supposed to have cosmic significance beyond "damn, Weft's annoying?"

Oh well. Boo drama! Hooray beer pancakes, apparently!

peevish

Aug. 14th, 2006 04:10 pm
jainajade: (Default)
There are a handful of things I don't like:
  • rum ale (bad experience a looong time ago)
  • lightsabre wounds
  • cold weather
  • [livejournal.com profile] weft
So why am I always confronted with them?!

I'm not mad.  I'm just... oh, screw it.
jainajade: (Default)

I died in the Dungeon of Jainajade

I was killed in a cobwebbed fountain room by Suitov the dragon, whilst carrying...

a Figurine of Hellmutt and 0 gold pieces.

Score: 25

Explore the Dungeon of Jainajade and try to beat this score,
or enter your username to generate and explore your own dungeon...



Uh, Suitov? I don't think it's working out. It's not you, it's - well, it's the fact that YOU KILLED ME.

But Weft is a smelly orc, so that part's apt.

solstice

Jun. 21st, 2006 11:22 pm
jainajade: female vampire hunter posing by stained glass window (JJ window)
Longest day of the year, apparently. It snuck up on me, what with the time differential between -- well. What with quirks of portals and all.

I'm trying not to feel sorry for myself. I've done that already, many times. I should be happy with what I have: the eye of a charming chap, the ability to weasel free caffeine out of him...

...wreckage to live in and to feel sorry for myself in...

Shit.

I've already sung this song, I know. Poor JJ. She broke the rules and cried about it. Pity! Pity for the freaky-haired, freaky-headed idiot!

I'm not sorry to have lived my life. I like my adopted family members and assorted friends. I'm glad I met someone as interested in me as I am in him. He's a mage too; Kara would approve.

And there's the problem. I don't have Kara anymore. I like my new life, but I liked my old one too, and I have never understood why the old had to die away.

Oh geez, explanations. Um. When I was a kid, my family decided I would take up the family business. That happened to be smiting the undead, which sounds exciting but is actually a bitch. I was trained by a wonderful woman named Kara, whose approval meant everything to me -- so of course I was nothing like her. She was clever and quite talented; I was clumsy, slow, and a test of her limited patience.

She died. I was supposed to be proving how well she'd trained me, and I totally choked, and it was all my fault.

Family was not at all happy about losing a good worker and being stuck with me instead. They kicked me out and cut all ties. Screw them anyway, I figured, and walked away.

Except that in my head, I still belong there.

It's getting dark -- not safe to be writing. Tonight will be short work, and then I can sleep. If I'm lucky I won't even dream about waking up back home. Those are nightmares in reverse. They're lovely. And then you wake up, and they're not anymore.
jainajade: (Default)
It used to be easy. If it's dead and it moves, kill it again. So simple. It didn't require choice or deep thought. It only required action.

You came home with dawn ripping at your eyelids, wishing you'd zigged instead zagged and that your sunglasses hadn't been broken, and the guards would defer to you as you entered. You waited for your turn to shower, always getting cold water; you washed ancient blood from your hair, proud of what you'd done that put it there. You fell asleep quickly once you found a position that didn't put weight on a bruise, and your dreams were uneventful.

So easy.

I'm not sorry that my eyes were opened. It's just that, however hypocritically, I miss the certainty. I was so sure that I was doing exactly what I was meant to do and that I had a positive effect on the world. I was helping, dammit, and I felt good about it.

Except that now I have to look back and wonder: who did I kill that I shouldn't have? I used to assist on daylight vampire raids; how many of those were just trying to survive? They weren't feeding on anyone when we saw them. And killed them. They may have had willing victims -- a prospect that still horrifies me, but there are some out there -- and been not in the least bit violent. And I killed them anyway.

I hate myself for going against everything I was taught and I hate myself for going along with it as long as I did. No rest for the wicked, you see.

Fuck it. I should get a room at some inn and try to socialise, even just a little. Find a dryad or a pixie or an Ice chest (*cough*) and listen to their woes instead of running down my own for the umpteenth time. Get off this desolate little ship on a rock of a planetoid and find myself some like company. Maybe even close up the ship for awhile and force myself to cozy up someplace where I'd actually have neighbors.

Maybe.
jainajade: female vampire hunter wielding a wooden cross (cross)
Wahoo, somebody found me a Tser and then she found an inn with a me!

Side note: If you're going to fall asleep on a floor, at least wait until you're in a place that's been cleaned lately. I swear those dust bunnies are sentient and like to hide up nostrils that get too close.

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Jaina Jade

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