this cute lil guy is Nao, from a BL game called Dramatical Murder (i'm sure i've mentioned it somewhere before...). the minute his that face popped on my computer screen, i knew i had to wear that hoodie. so far, the project is going smoothly. i ordered fabric for the long stripped sleeves from this bomb site called spoonflower.com. you can design your own print on a wide variety of fabrics, or you can purchase one from the awesome designs already on the site. a week or so a go i got some furry fabric for the hood and already have it cut. i bought a tshirt to attach it all to, but it wasn't quite as baggy as i want it, so i've got a place to get another one. soon as i get that, it won't take long to finish. i just need something for he whiskers. i want them to be attached, not painted on or anything (the entire face will be attached: teeth, white snoot, nose and eyes, and ears), but i don't know what material to use. but i have a few weeks to figure it out.
Only a few weeks, Kits? why is that?
because i'm going to Anime North Texas! it's a brand new con in fort worth and i'd like to give them a try. i can't imagine how hard it is starting a new con in this town, but if it gives me another chance to cosplay, i'm all about it!
so yeah, i've been pretty crafty recently, but that doesn't mean i've given up my passion of writing. as you can see, it is november 2nd, and that means it's the second day of NaNoWriMo. for the third year in a row i'm going to do my damnedest to crank out a 50,000 word novel before november 30th. will it be complete? it's highly possible it won't be. will it be coherent? in most places, but not all. will it be littered with typos, grammatical errors, plot holes and loose ends? definitely. in years past it was my goal to actually 'win' NaNoWriMo, and by 'win' i mean get to 50,000 words. the first year, when i thought i was really cooking, i only got 13,000. last year, i managed 28. even though pressure is the name of the game, this year i just want to write. i'm off to a good start this year with a lil over a 1300 in the first day. the daily target, to get to 50k by the end of the month is 1,667. while that may not seem like a lot... it is.
in fact, i should probably be doing that now instead of blogging. but here's an excerpt of what i have so far to tide you over, my babies. ciao!
The setting sun, the lapping waves, the faint sweet smell of the blooming tree, all nearly took Arbitrol away to the land of sleep. He’d had a long day
His father had paraded him all over the settlement today. “My greatest achievement,” Rayar had said over and over. The one he had so little to do with developing, Arbitrol had thought as he glad-handed every man they’d visited that day. It was the eve of his 19th day of age. Rayar wanted everyone to celebrate with them. And give Arbitrol gifts and currencty. He’d raised a boy and managed him to survive to 19 ages. He would certainly live to the ripe old age of 60 from there, as the people of their settlement often dreamed of.
So proud… Arbitrol thought. “and so full of shit.” he muttered as he swatted a passing insect. Before he could lay his hand back on his chest, his televice sounded twice.
“Arbi? What are you doing boy?” his father bellowed into the communicator.
“I’m here, father, I’m here,” Arbitrol moaned as he patted the ground next to him to grab the televice. He glanced at it and his eyes met his father chilling icy blue ones, set in his hansom chisled face. Arbitrol was often glad he didn’t favor his father’s sinister look.
“Are you at that tree again, boy?” Rayar sighed. “I suspect if the water wasn’t nearly acid, you’d be frolicking in that as well. Why you enjoy being outdoors, in the elements all the time is beyond me!”
“Was there something you wanted father?” Arbitrol cut in.
“Of course, I don’t contact you to talk, boy! Come back to the house, I’ve got good news for you!”
“Yes. Now, Arbitrol.” Rayar’s face flashed with a darkness for only a moment. Arbitrol had seen the look before. His father was not a cruel man, but he was impatient and not accustomed to being told no.
“Yes father, on my way.” Arbitrol stood, dusted himself off and headed home.