All Mikki's Table

[Mikki]

✥ Mikki's Table ✥

"A taste lingers beyond the mortal tongue, rich with memory and longing..."

☾ Welcome Victims ☽

"The banquet awaits, steeped in shadow, seasoned with silent pleas..."

Welcome to Mikki's Table, where indulgence is eternal and taste is more than mere sensation—it is experience, memory, and longing entwined. Every offering is crafted to fulfill desire, shaped to satisfy the hunger that lingers beneath the surface. Whether you seek something richer, something rarer, or something utterly unexpected, never hesitate to ask.

The menu bends to your cravings, shifting with the whims of appetite, though there are ever-so-slight restrictions—some delicacies remain beyond reach, some flavors forever forbidden, not for lack of willingness, but simply for the nature of things. Yet within this shadowed feast, most everything is possible, and nearly every indulgence can be fulfilled.

So lean into temptation, let curiosity guide your selections, and never fear requesting something different. After all, hunger is a deeply personal affair, and the night is long enough to taste it all.

✢ Menu ✢

"Each offering, a delicate indulgence—sweetened by fear, savored in eternity..."

Available Courses:

1. Blood Debt – A human assassin owes her life to a vampire lord after a failed hit on his rival. As she serves her penance, their alliance becomes entangled in something far more dangerous—desire.

2. Marked by Shadows – A detective tracking a brutal killer discovers she's been cursed by the very demon she hunts. The only way to lift the mark is through the forbidden touch of a warlock who's been playing both sides of the underworld.

3. The Hollow Pact – A reaper has one rule: never get attached. But when he accidentally saves a woman meant for the afterlife, he finds himself hunted by forces far darker than death itself—and drawn to the one soul he was supposed to let go.

4. Veil of Night – A cursed banshee walks the earth, unable to scream for the dead without condemning herself. When she falls for a ghost trapped between realms, they must defy fate or surrender to oblivion together.

5. No Rest for the Wicked – A monster-hunting priest becomes possessed by the very creature he swore to exorcise. His only salvation is the demonologist who betrayed him years ago, and their partnership is anything but holy.

6. The Stolen Light – A fallen angel needs his stolen grace back to ascend—but the thief, a mortal woman who unknowingly binds his power, is far more intriguing than he ever expected.

7. Dead Man's Kiss – The city's most dangerous necromancer holds a secret: he can bring the dead back for love. When a desperate woman begs him to revive her murdered fiancé, their hearts clash between magic, revenge, and the darkness creeping closer.


~Mikki~

☾ Amuse Bouche ☽

"A whisper of crimson, delicate yet intoxicating—merely the beginning..."

Sample 1

Artemisia strode down the length of one corridor, the Corinthian granite columns standing tall in the presence of the frigid morning. It was time. It had begun. She smiled. It no doubt had already brought revelers out into the streets and she had no further doubts that the rituals would soon begin. Offerings for her blessing. People in the streets would fuck in her name. Drink to her honor. Fight in her armies, and eventually die for her gain. It was how the wheel spun. And it hadn't ever changed in the near everlasting time of her dominion.

Despite her having a name, no one used it. She preferred the autonomy of the titles given to her. What better way to deny her humanity? What better way to stay high on her dais of godhood? She wasn't prepared to give an inch to her reign. She'd done so, so far without much question once the rebels had been put down some many many many years ago. It was legend now to them. A legend she had, of course, twisted to suit her taste. A benevolent grace who had freed the many and turned away the blasphemers to their deaths. It was an epic that was sung often in local watering holes. Something she enjoyed listening to if she could slip away unseen.

Though now, she had become content in her palace of glory. Every year she added onto its massive form. Using what she knew of her power to bend and form the stone to her wishes. And every year, her populace was reminded again of her absolute power. There was none that could naysay against her.

She stole a quick peek out across her courtyard. The snow was fresh and clean. Her handmaidens had all vanished. The guards were gone. Any that would normally have been around were gone. This suited her. She would have the benefit of a quiet morning before she opened her doors and her spell to her people.

Thick ringlets of black hair hung from her coronet, intricately woven into the heavy silver jeweled crown. Saphires sparkled brilliantly in the morning light, white diamonds accenting the harmony of the cool colors. Artemisia's skin was slightly pinked from the cold, her nipples taut in response, barely hidden under her pale chiton. It was trimmed in an excess of silver, weighing the ends down to hug her body with every move she made. Her sandaled feet strode quietly as she made her way to her galley. She would partake of breakfast and sit in quiet contemplation until she was ready for her session with the people.

She entered the galley, and perusing over its stores she chose a few strips of dried venison, a slice of cheese and a small persimmon. With her fare gathered in her arms, she made her way to her garden. She entered the area through an arched gateway, dead vines crawling up its side. During the spring the garden smelled at its sweetest, and her pool displayed her collection of colorful fish. Now? Everything was dead, her pool frozen over with the shadows of fish suspended in whatever states the cold had found them in. It was a reminder that the seasons turned. Ever so.

She sat on a small log, and tucked into her meal. She chewed slowly as the years' events rolled through her mind. The people were well happy with her. She'd freed several nations from tyranny, subsequently adding onto her vast Empire. She smiled, more ground this year. Perhaps this next will add more into her realm. More people, more goods, more trade, just MORE. She took some hours as the sun rose and began its' descent to think of her next moves. What new areas she would pursue. What new thing would she offer to her people? She was excited at the prospects.

Once the suns' rays began the stretch across the sky she made her way to her throne room. The lowering sun had begun to bring with it more cold, and a steady wind that bore through her chiton. She was cold. Not terribly so, but enough that she would relish the lighting of her hearth fire. She opened the large doors, closing them behind her. She engaged her spell. Anyone that would come through, would have to begin the ritual. She walked over to the hearth and with a few strikes of flint over the tinder, got it going. Soon she was adding logs to the flames. She drew a white leopard fur across her shoulders and took her seat on her throne. The crowning glory in all of her power. Manifested of crystal. It stood tall and unwavering, etched intricately with roses and swirling vines, it was a feat of magic that she had spent many hours on working. She slipped a pillow underneath her rear and satisfied began to wait. She was certain there would be some early birds this year.

Sample 2

Sybil looked up at the neon sign that illuminated the night around her in a haze of pink. It was the closest thing to a club they had on this side of town, and Joey had insisted on meeting her there after she'd had her crappiest day yet. She made her way down the small line that had begun to form. It was close to 9pm already and they were getting in early so they could grab dinner after a few drinks and some dancing. Joey was already in line, and when he made eye contact with Sybil he began to wave her over.
"Sybil!" He smiled at her and took a step back. "Saved us a spot."

"Thanks Joey," Sybil joined him in the line and they stood shoulder to shoulder.
"Just you wait and see, this is going to be just the ticket you need to shake off a bad day. Besides, I heard that leech fucking deserved it."
"Joey! Hush!" Sybil looked over her shoulder to make sure that no one picked up on the term. Despite how vague it was, if the wrong person heard, they'd been in a world of trouble.

As it stood, the magical community was in a great divide. The mythical and magical creatures of the community all stood on opposite ends of a decision. Did they become public and break out from their hiding? Or did they stay in secret, keeping the humans none the wiser? For Sybil, it would just be better if they stayed in hiding. It kept the world from going into panic and there was a certain freedom with the anonymity it provided. If anyone knew, truly knew, what she could do then she'd be the first one the white coats would snatch up and begin experimenting on.

Sybil was a blood mage. Her power was derived from the essence and power that blood held. The more magical or robust a person was, the more power that could be derived and used. For Sybil, Joey was her anchor. Her consenting battery. They had long ago built this little partnership with the stipulation that Sybil would warn Joey if she needed to use it. If they were far apart, she'd send him a text to let him know. Joey always had to rest and eat to recover so she was limited in what she could do, but it also meant she wasn't a target. Most Blood mages she knew preferred a human anchor as it kept them from being manipulated by their anchor. The connection was generally a two-way radio. Both ends able to receive and transmit information, but with a human it was only a one way. Joey had no magic. While for Sybil, that meant she had a limited range of power, it also kept her from being forced to Anchor onto someone who could do more than she wanted. Without an anchor, Sybil would be in excruciating pain.

An anchor could only be released through death. So unless Joey was in harm's way, she was safe. There were ancient rules in place from the Council that kept anyone of the magical beings from harming a human.
Which is not to say it doesn't happen, but it was a rare occurrence. Most of the magically inclined had consenting adults in their entourage and that kept everything in balance. As it was, Sybil kept to herself mostly, and continued to keep her head down to avoid too much attention.
The doors opened to the little club, and the line began moving. Joey bounced on the balls of his feet next to her.

"I'm excited! This week has been crazy and I am so ready to let loose and maybe even meet my next mistake!"

"Joey, you really need to slow it down sometimes. I'm not picking you up from another one night stand because you got too drunk." Sybil looked up at him from the corner of her eye.

Sybil stood at 5'6" while Joey was a whole head taller than her, and much more muscle bound than Sybil was. Joey was hugely gay, and was always at the gym if he wasn't at work or out on the town.

"Oh come on, you're no fun! That's the point, isn't it? Besides, it wouldn't be a walk of shame if I didn't have someplace to go."

Sybil shook her head with a sigh. He really was going to keep her on her toes. The door security smiled down at her and nodded for the two of them to enter. Once inside, the club was blazingly loud and the bass was clearly powerful. She could feel the thumping of it in her chest. The room was clouded with smoke, a mix of a fog machine that had seen better days and the clientele smoking their cigarettes, making the air noxious in some places. Sybil went to find them some seats, while Joey made a beeline for the bar to grab some drinks. When he returned he held to beers and two shots.

"A Yuengling and tequila for the lady! Here's to better days ahead!" He raised his shot glass, clicked it against hers and the pair down the drink with a quick toss of their heads. Sybil chased the liquid with a slug of her beer and smiled. "Much better." Joey chuckled next to her, eying the dance floor. "We should really get started dancing if I am going to find someone to knock boots with before the evening dies down." He stood then and took Sybils' hand. "Come on, let's go for a few songs, and we can finish off a few more beers before dinner."

Sybil groaned, but relented, rising to take Joey's hand and the two headed to the designated dance floor. Sybil stepped into an easy sway as they began, preferring to stay fluid and loose in her dance, while Joey was a little more enthusiastic. Sybil could feel their tether, their connection thrum with his joy and found herself smiling and happy as a result.

Sample 3

Anat turned in her nest, ashes falling from her feathers, to drift below her eyrie to the world below. She had taken refuge in the highest of peaks on this world. Here she was worshipped from a distance. People marched up the summits to speak with the Old One. The two legged being who had set up his own temple to send prayers to her. For her heat, her blazing fire could not be touched by the intense cold. So they prayed. For years. Until the two legs grew old and perished, passing the hand made building off to their children. Anat had never interferred with their lives, serving only to occassionally melt snow and ice to allow for crops. The crops attracted other mamals. The ones she ate. But now? Now she was dying. Her ashes continued to fall around her, like so much snow. One of the two legs had braved the heights of her nest, had faced his fear. He crouched by her now. His small hand pressing to her great head in simple strokes. The two leg offered comfort in her last hours. Then it happened.
She died. Her heart stopped. And her body crumbled into ash around the small man. She should have been reborn there. Should have risen in a great wave of heat.

Instead, she was called to a place of power. Her soul flew to it, hearing the call. The demand. She could feel it in her soul. The call grew louder and louder. Urging her reemergence. Slowly, in a great wave of heat, she grew into life. Emerging from sand in a flash of fire. Blood dried up instantly, and the sand below her feet melted and solidified into glass. The form she took, it was wrong. Smaller. Vulnerable. She still could see the world in the way she was used to, could still rend flesh with talons upon her hands, but...she was not the same. She could feel the body dying around her, and she screamed in response. She was unable to move, to run, to seek any kind of shelter. Why? Why! Why?! She screamed again, her voice growing hoarse, her throat raw from her indignant and confused cries.

A two leg stood before her frail figure, holding aloft a blade. Perhaps a sacrifice? Then she could return to her form. She begged for release, only to find he instead chose to carve into her toned belly. She screamed again as she realized his machinations sought to bind her. She could feel him duobling over the power, winding it upon itself over and over. Strengthening the threads to the bond with every new slice into her sensitive flesh. She gnashed fanged teeth with each searing bite of the knife into her flesh. She could feel him strain against her power until it finally broke, every ounce of strength she threw against him was recycled by his own, and used against her. This was a soul binding. She'd known of it, but never experienced it's use. Until now.

Anat cried out in pain as the magic crescendoed, flaying her mind and soul. Causing her body to twitch and squirm against the restraints until it was eneded. And but only one thing was requested of her. Her name. Only a true priet or priestess would know it's signifigance, someone bathed in lore. Would know that they had well and truly bound what was never meant to be bound.

"Anat!" She screamed, spittle flying from her mouth as she gnashed and writhed. The magic had settled in her soul. She knew it, could feel it. Leashed like a pet. However, she had some measure of control however diminished.

Auburn hair whipped around her in a dark halo. It was then she saw something in the corner of her eye. Something walked in the periphery, and suddenly began walking away. Anat jerked her head to the creature. Another two leg. An intruder. Who helplessly fell to the ground in a cry of pain. Anat squalled against her bindings. The urge to eat, to gnash her teeth against meat and bone overwhelming. She needed sustenance. This body required food.

✢ Entrée ✢

"A feast steeped in longing—the taste lingers, never quite enough..."

+Small Plates+
Moonlight's Pale Kiss
Withces and Wendigos
Stormed Seas
The Devil's Debt
The Study of Selenophilia
A Nobleman's Lament

+Dinner Plates+
Corda Imperii; Sangus Imperii
Curse of Strahd
D&D Nights with Mikki

+Still Seating+
The Forsaken City


+JamesMartin's Reserved Table+
On Uncharted Shores
Binding A Goddess
A Night Out

☩ Bound by dusk, lost to eternity ☩