Okay, here goes my first contribution to the list.

This story is a "what-if" crossover between my SM fanfic series "Sailor
Soldiers USA" and Vampire Princess Miyu.  The story treats one of my
fic's Senshi as a possible Shinma, though the truth is still unknown. 
The story isn't finished yet--in fact, it's only beginning--so this is
basically a "Part One".  (A summary for those who haven't read
SSUSA--the Senshi pictured in this story spent time trapped between
worlds and learned to drain energy from living beings.  When she
gathered enough energy and reincarnated, she was born with a need for
the energy.  She's overcome the need--it's no longer fatal if she
doesn't get energy--but the psychological addiction remains.  In this
story, she loses control of it.)

The story is an attempt at a "Gothic" feel, heavily weighted with
descriptives and a few 50-cent words.  It's my first attempt at such a
mood, so go ahead and let me have it with the C&C; I need to learn.

The name of the story, "Violent Desire", is taken from the lyrics to
"Violent Red", a song from the VPM "Best Collection" CD I have.  As
usual, it isn't a challenge to anybody's copyrights, nor are the uses of
characters in the story who belong to other people.  You all know who
they are ^_^

**************************************
Violent Desire, Part One
Written by Corvus

The howling of a tortured wind slashed by countless sharp branches
called
her from her slumber, and deep within that gale something whispered a
promise of fulfilment that nothing else could offer. Clattering shutters
punctuated the agonized cries in a staccato heartbeat. Her soul rose
from
an ocean of blood, dripping and writhing in protest of the release...

Watanabe Shiko awoke, covers tangled about her body, plastered to her
skin
by sweat acrid with fear, like the clutching embrace of that horrid sea.
Her nimbus of ebon hair lay flared across the white-sheathed pillow.
Almond-formed eyes of mallow-green turned feverishly from corner to
corner
of the wavering, distant ceiling. Something had awoken with her. A
constant
companion, and not the solid, handsome man next to her on the
queen-sized
bed. Something that ran even deeper than his most intimate touch had
ever
reached, farther than the vast gulf of his love had ever stretched, all
the
way into her very center.

The glass of the bedroom�s large window vibrated as the unsecured wooden
shutter slapped against the frame as if to accentuate the rattling of
the
cage deep in Shiko�s mind. A taloned darkness raging with lust demanded
release from its too-long imprisonment.

As if plucking the petals of a flower to reveal its vital heart Shiko
began
to remove the soaked sheet from her steaming body. With each heartbeat
she
dreaded the waking of her lover, but as she lay finally naked upon the
bed
she knew he would not stir. The air of the night flowed over her raw,
blistering-nerved skin and reassured her even as her demon flowed from
its
cage to fill her every sense with the crimson-rich sight, liquid sound,
tangy-salty taste, cloying coppery-sweet smell, flowing feel of, not
blood,
but something more vital... Something even more intrinsic.

She rose, her tight, elegant body tensing and relaxing in feral
pleasure.
Shiko�s gaze turned to the white jacket that hung on the knob of the
nearby
oak door of the closet. Her fingers touched the cool, silky fabric,
clutched its slippery sensuality, lifted it from its cross. It whispered
to
her as it flowed upward, a soft song of love. Shiko drew a sleeve over
one
outstretched arm and thrilled to the feel as it sheathed her skin.
Quickly,
eagerly, needing the jacket�s caress almost as much as the life which
her
demon shrieked for, she pulled the other sleeve on and clutched the
fabric
close over her breasts, her stomach. The jacket responded to her
ecstasy,
its outline becoming indestinct, the blurring rolling over Shiko�s body
and
slathering every nerve in chill rapture. The white fabric became a
ghostly
aura that flowed like a sentient mist, coalescing about Shiko into
layered
black, white and grey silk kimonos and a beautiful cloak of sewn white
feathers.

Shiko�s eyes turned to her dresser mirror and beheld her stark, snowy
face,
her lips flush with the hue of ripe strawberries, eyes seemingly rimmed
with kohl, high cheekbones dusted with the powder of atomized rubies.
Her
face tilted just a fraction to the side, the eyes displaying sadness as
her
body trickled into a pose of remorse... and inside, Shiko�s demon
howled.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rocking of the oak�s creaking limbs threatened to lull the young
girl
who sat in its clutch twenty feet from the ground into a half-doze. Her
moonlight-white, loose short robe billowed about her legs, the dangling
ends of the red ribbon that tied up her long, rippling chestnut hair
into a
neat bun dancing on the wind. One slender, milky leg dangled from the
bouncing branch, kicking back and forth in a lazy rhythm, the wind
swirling
about her single sandaled foot like cold water, her other, bare foot
tucked
neatly under her knee. Her long fingers danced in the moonlight as if to
weave a cat�s cradle from its silver threads.

Behind her was the solid presence of her guardian. A fortress for her
soul,
the only one she could trust, her friend... The rock of her very
existence.
The girl�s amber-golden eyes shone in delight as she felt him, felt his
bouying essence. All throughout this doubt-plagued vigil his silent
steadfastness was her support. The girl turned her head to look back,
up,
up along the cloak of midnight blue to the stolid mask that had been his
visage for so long.

Though he did not move, the girl knew he was watching her as he always
had
and always would. The bond between them pulsed with vitality as her eyes
looked into the dark sockets of the unmoving mask and unspoken words
passed.

Every motion her guardian ever made had some meaning, and when he lifted
one bone-white hand to point with a nearly skeletal finger, she knew
what
he was indicating to her. Yet, still, she took in a sharp, icy breath of
the running gale when she turned her honeyed gaze to the ground perhaps
fifty yards away where a lone man had come jogging in the night.

The runner�s blue-striped white jogging suit rustled as his legs carried
him forward. Headphones covered his ears, rendering him oblivious to the
nuances of the night, but the girl could easily hear the notes of his
rock
�n� roll on the wind, intermingled with the crunching of leaves and
murmur
of grass below his treading feet, and the song of his clothing. He knew
nothing of the vampire named Miyu who watched him from on high,
concealed
in the darkness, or of the Shinma named Larva who watched her.

The man was physically fit, Miyu could tell from his easy breathing,
chest
expanded to take in more of the dancing air, his confident, rolling
stride
across the leaf-strewn grass, the way he held his head up, eyes before
him.
As he came closer she let her eyes trace his rugged features, round
nose,
squared chin, let them linger on the shot of steel through his ebon
locks.
Again Miyu wondered at the sheer variety of the Americans. Many were the
people here from whom she could derive her stolen life-blood, beautiful
people. The jogging man, though handsome in his way, was not one of
them.

The approach of the man�s music nearly covered the sound of
grasshopper-light footsteps that jigged on the breeze. The response was
immediate in Miyu, her normally still heart beginning to race with
anticipation and excitement at the prospect of a battle against the
Shinma
she had so painstakingly tracked from Japan. The memory of the day Miyu
bid
someone goodbye, told someone she was going to America, penetrated her
consciousness for just an instant.

That sunny day in Kyoto had left Miyu�s acquaintance and sometime foe,
sometime ally, the spiritualist woman Se Himiko, standing in shock as
the
vampire girl stepped into Larva�s embrace and disappeared into that
half-world of dream that the pretty, tall brunette had only briefly
glimpsed. Larva, Miyu had explained to Himiko, had come from across the
sea, which meant that the Shinma were not confined to the island chain,
though they flocked to Japan for reasons neither Himiko nor Miyu could
explain. Perhaps it was the energy of spirit and belief that the islands
still were drenched in, or perhaps the Shinma remained close to the site
of
the initial outporing of their kind from the twisted other-world of the
Dark.

Reasons were not important to Miyu as a ghost resolved from the shadows
of
tall, weathered oaks, floating with lightning-quick steps light as
feathers
across the protruding roots that anchored the trees to the rich earth.
The
ghost�s face radiated in the light of the moon, the features blank as
the
mask under Larva�s hood, showing no signs of exertion. Miyu threw
herself
off her rocking perch and hit the ground running, the grass cool under
her
bare foot, susurration coming from the single sandle she wore.

The jogger�s eyes caught the sight of the spectral girl descending from
the
black haven of the oak like an angel of mystery, and his steps faltered.
As
he jerked his headphones away from his ears, the music blaring into the
night, he was lifted from the ground by the twilight-shrouded figure he
had
not noticed. His shriek of astonishment and terror reverberated through
the
swaying trees. His personal radio clattered to the ground and shattered,
silenced. He went limp in Larva�s grasp and never noticed how he was
hung
in the branches of a nearby tree.

With nary a sound beyond the flap of the cloak, the Shinma launched into
the air, limbs stretched gracefully like an arrow. The cloak surged open
to
catch the light and seemed to come apart at the seams, feathers
separating
one by one to surround the Shinma as its momentum halted fifteen feet in
the air. The aurora of whirling feathers exploded outward and
multiplied,
obscuring the area below in a snowstorm.

Miyu halted her headlong plunge toward the Shinma, her amber eyes
flicking
side to side. Her foe was somewhere in this confusion. And the only way
to
be certain she did not become a target was to jump. Effortlessly she
threw
herself toward the now-hidden moon, bursting from the roiling riot of
feathers to see the demon-dancer awaiting her. In the Shinma�s hands
shown
a naginata, the elegant, curved blade limned in a flickering ghost-flame
of
white and silver. Even as Miyu recognized her error the naginata leapt
from
the dancer�s outstretched, shining hands and speared for the vampire�s
heart.

With a cry of dismay Miyu threw herself toward the ground, but first
blood
was scored as the burning polearm slashed across her right upper arm,
searing her flesh, muscle and bone. The pain solidified into a horrid
shriek as Miyu tumbled out of control to slam into the earth below,
hidden
in the cloud of feathers.

Talons of unholy fire tore at the dancer-Shinma as Larva�s volcanic rage
erupted. The silk of the Shinma�s kimonos tore wide and the force of the
blow sent the dancer spinning in the air like some monstrous top. The
Shinma�s eyes fired with hell-light and the naginata turned in the air
to
dart back to its mistress. As the dancer�s rotation slowed it extended a
finger to point at Larva, an image of divine retribution. The naginata
obeyed her command without question, driving toward the cloaked
guardian.

Its target was not so easily had. Larva twisted, a cyclone of blue,
barely
avoiding the polearm�s blazing touch. His skeletal hands sliced the air
to
catch the shaft of the weapon. Once caught, the naginata jerked like a
hooked fish, desperate for freedom.

Below the aerial conflict the cloud of feathers boiled, condensed and
ascended, then streamed like a swarm of hell-bent insects toward Larva.
Still the weapon he held pulled and twisted in a frenzy. The feathers
encircled the guardian and filled his vision with dancing white.

The dancer-Shinma looked toward the wounded vampire-girl on the ground.
Miyu looked up toward her enemy, eyes tightly narrowed, left hand
clenching
her right bicep. The dancer�s arms spread with mocking slowness to the
position of spread wings... and it vanished.

The feathers and the burning naginata evaporated as if they had never
existed. Larva�s hands, briefly clenched into fists as their purchase
disappeared, stretched wide, then relaxed. The first battle was over...
and
the war had begun.

Standing slowly, her body wracked by sudden aches, Miyu turned her head
to
examine the injury she had been dealt by the demon-dancer. The girl
pulled
her pearly-skinned hand away to gaze at the crimson stain on her fingers
and palm. The blood glistened in the pooling light of the impartial
moon.
She touched her tongue to her palm, tasting the sticky-sweetness of her
own
vitae, a heady, tantalizing sensation that threatened to overpower her
senses and made her arm throb to the rhythm of her still-pounding heart.
Delicately she cleaned each finger, reabsorbing her life-blood.

Miyu�s wound had closed by the time Larva touched the ground before her.
She could feel his concern wash over her and she let it fill her body,
dulling the pain. The pale vampire princess�s bare foot kicked back as
her
guardian encircled her with his mountain-strong arms and lifted her.
Miyu
pressed her white cheek to the softness of Larva�s cloak and was
reassured.
Larva�s arms tensed about her small body for just a moment, as her heart
stilled once more.
**************************************

Open C&C and private mail are welcome.  This is still a first draft, so
C&C will help me revise it and continue with the story.