For those of you allergic to walls of text ADVERT YE EYES!
This is how my brain works. It's ok, I get lost, too.
I've started working on a new story. The funny thing is, it all started with a Pokemon text-based role play session in middle school. 

I always love tracking the progress of characters throughout my life. They start as juvenile, two-dimensional characters and end up becoming like family members. They're there when I need them to learn from and be inspired by. I am also an only child. Completely unrelated to this musing. 

Ashton, before I had any trace of taste level.
The main characters are based off of Poke'morphs (ok so yeah Pokemon people with magic Pokemon powers and ears and tails and shit IT WAS MIDDLE SCHOOL, GUYS). Ashton has been a Pokemon character, then an anthropomorphic made up species, then a Pokemorph again, and now he's just a genetically altered supersoldier with werewolf legs.
Dev was also based on a Pokemorph, who I still hold in high regard in terms of design. (Or maybe I just think he's so well designed because his sketches hold the only good nose I've ever drawn.) 

That aside, here is my favorite excerpt so far from the 5k words I've got.

 "You think it was a poison bullet?" I asked, seriously doubting that such a tiny farm would have the funds for such weaponry. 
"Well," Ashton began, in a tone that I didn't like, "if it is, we'll find out in a couple hours." He paused for effect. "When I'm DEAD." 
"Jesus, man, you won't die. Look, here's the gauze, you're saved," I said, waving the first aid kit at him. He glared back, but began the slow process of removing his tatty and bloodied shirt anyway. The wound puckered and swelled, but thankfully had mostly stopped bleeding. Mostly. It would be a messy operation. The blood dripped down his too-skinny torso. But I guess Mr. Barrel-Chest-13-Inch-Waist over here has no room to talk. 

And there's this one... 

Before I knew it he was on his back and I was prying deeper into his shoulder than either one of us was comfortable with. But if that bullet was poison, it had to come out. Ever since we, the Altered, bared our teeth at the remaining humans after Their Fall, they set to work at developing more and more monstrous weapons to kill us with. While their people died of self-inflicted disease, they were working overtime to kill us. Poison bullets were one of the tamer weapons. Once they embedded themselves in a target, the little mechanized thing leeched a toxic poison. And assuming the target is an Altered, the poison would kill in under a day. Slowly and painfully. So, me groping around in Ashton's shoulder muscles was kind of justified at this point. 

This story is written in a futuristic alternate-Earth in the first person. What was I thinking?! I guess I'm branching out, though, which is good. But seriously. All of my other fiction has been 3rd person/omniscient. This is strange territory for a newbie writer. 
"Ain't no learnin' like gettin' tossed in the lake t'swim", as my imaginary Southern hick uncle would say. 

Ok, I'm sorry the picture-writing ratio is all backwards in this post. I promise I won't make you guys read so much next time. 

Writing NaNoWriMo, losing NaNoWriMo, corrupting flash drives, writing a new story, forgetting to draw, what's up. 
I did these sketches though! 
(Click for bigger version)
The androgynous chick on the left is Cinder Quillanthus, my Tiefling rogue character in my D&D campaign. (Oh come on, you totally saw this coming.) 
The guy on the right is her bro, Kortas Quillanthus, my first D&D character. Who has some sicknasty burns. 
I'm in love with Tieflings, guys. Tails. Horns. Tails

Ok, I'm done. Back to essays and short stories. 




My boyfriend and I recently came to the realization that Zaphod is, to be frank, fat and lazy. To make things worse, he's putting on his winter weight and now has Winnie-the-Pooh-like troubles. Getting stuck in small spaces, that whole thing. 
So, the logical explanation was to get him a buddy. Maybe burn off some of that chunkiness. 
Of course there was, at the time we decided this, many wonderful little ferret-babies at my place of work, but I was adamant on adopting. 
Time past and we could not schedule an adoption day with the shelter I volunteer at. Sicknesses, busy work schedules, and little things kept popping up and delaying us. 

Then I received a call from a friend and fellow ferret owner. "Are you still looking for a friend for Zaphod?" 
Uh oh. 
She and her mother, the two family members interested in ferrets, were giving theirs up due to lack of time to commit to their little fuzz-butt. It happens. 
So the plan: bus to their house with a ferret in tow so the two could play. Or, bite each other's brains out, depending on if they got along. Ferrets are weird. 
After a very awkward bus ride (everyone stares at you when you've got a pet carrier), Zaphod and I met up with my friend. There was also a massive hill to climb. Oh, and torrential downpours. Mmm. Love it. 
At first, the two ferrets played well, and after a brief dominance-establishment (Zaphod being the instigator, as he had a good weight advantage), we decided they'd get along just fine. 
So I walked back to the bus stop in the rain, soaked, with two ferrets. While we waited for the bus and train, we talked to a lot of ex-ferret owners, people who had no idea what a ferret even was, and a security guard who used to have a pet skunk. Awesome! Zaphod was the life of the public-transit-party. 

And thus, +1 to the animal family. 
We've decided to name her Calypso. She is tiny. Like, skinny squirrel sized. She is also dark, and has the cutest little white markings oh my god. Little dot on her head, white "bib", toes, face. Uuuhhhhghcute. 
Zaphod is experiencing the "new sibling" syndrome. He's a little weirded out having to share things with another critter. He's become more anal about hiding things. He thinks he's being clever, hiding that jingly ball under the carpet... but then Calypso comes and takes it, plays with it, and has a grand ol' time with his toy. (She puts it back in his hiding place afterwards, though. He'll never know!

Despite that, he puts up with her. I think they'll make friends soon enough. 
[ In other news, still at school. Still slaving away on projects and essays. I'm also participating in NaNoWriMo, so I've been writing like a fiend. Also probably developing carpal tunnel. Mmm. Neat. 
So after school ends I'll be back in the swing of things. And by that I mean probably wasting a lot of time playing videogames I MEAN DOING PRODUCTIVE THINGS. Yep. ]