He was sweating. It had been a long time coming, and he was determined to see it with a level of dignity. That was before his teeth had begun to fall out, and his voice degraded to a heavy rasp.

Maybe the Courier had felt it, too. They had opened the doors, insisted that he stay inside with them when it finally happened. He had refused. No, this was something he had to be alone for.

He had watched his loved ones fade away before his very eyes. He wouldn’t let anyone else suffer that.

The door of the abandoned shack was locked. Painted on door was a warning, an accidental invitation to the next hapless adventurer.

DONT OPEN

He sat on the floor of his shack, holding his head as he snarled and shook. It had been a week. How long until his brain ceased, and instinct set in? His hands, bonier than he remembered, clawed at the rugged wooden floors.

He put his head down on the ground, his fast and shallow breath stirring up swirls of dust from the wooden grain. He tried to think. Thinking came so easily to him.

A figure in the Mojave sand, a glowing green light on their arm. Their name was… was…

No. He let out a snarl of frustration. He had to try something easier.

A beautiful woman, her hair like black silk. Her face so young, so full of life. Her name was…

Raul let out a scream of rage. Who was that woman??

The Ghoul practically dove onto a knife and stabbed the floor. Cutting and carving. He wouldn’t forget her. Not the angel that he had lost so long ago. He refused. He God damned refused.

As days past, the poor thing carved that name into the floor. He did it with the fluidity of routine. Clockwork. Just in case he started to forget.

Months past before the door to the shack was kicked open by a group of NCR soldiers.

The lone feral was disposed of quickly.

One of the soldiers moved to check the body, but his partner lifted a hand and pointed to the floor. He whispered one word.

Look.

The floor was covered. Not a single inch of the wooden planks were bare, and it was so full that the words overlapped. But they all said the same thing.

r a f a e l a

http://www.furaffinity.net/journal/3552021/

For every person that doesn't go commission her, an innocent civilian will be forced to read '50 Shades of Gray'.

Are you a fan of all things dork? Do you revel in your fandoms, and shout your nerdiness to the masses?
Bumfluff Industries is a budding company dedicated to making sure you have all the unnecessary fan-related things your hearts could ever ask for! Because we believe in a talent in every person, and a pillow in every bed.

Would you like a little pillow to hug and squish? Bumfluff can supply! Need a bookmark, and want it to depict your favorite character? Chill out, Bumfluff's got this!

Prices are always low, shipping is always affordable, and based on the individual commission. I will always stay in contact with you, from the moment you send me the first PM, to the time your commission reaches your door. I'm also willing to do trades! Because I know you all make great stuff too!

I accept Paypal, check, and money orders. :3 Send me a message for details.
On Facebook? Of course you are! Check us out at http://www.facebook.com/bumfluffindustries for updates on our growing company!

UmbraSword,
FurAffinity member and Bumfluff C.E.O.

This is just something to get off my chest. I don't care who's watching me. I just need to say it. Then I'm going to repost the Bumfluff Industries ad and be done with it.

Everyone has a fetish. This I know. But there are certain ones that are under the paraphilia that isn't commonly accepted. But this is a community (supposedly) about acceptance. So here goes.

I have a monster fetish.

It took me five minutes to type that sentence. SHAME.

But there you have it. Its a part of my life that I've decided I need to come to grips with. Things like tentacles and fangs are appealing to me. Characters like Pyramid Head, Venom, and the fan-made TentaSpy? I think they're attractive.

I thought this would be easy to do once I got started, but its taking a lot of control to not erase what I'm writing and pretend I never made this decision.

But there you have it. Take me or leave me.

Are you a fan of all things dork? Do you revel in your fandoms, and shout your nerdiness to the masses?
Bumfluff Industries is a budding company dedicated to making sure you have all the unnecessary fan-related things your hearts could ever ask for! Because we believe in a talent in every person, and a pillow in every bed.

Would you like a little pillow to hug and squish? Bumfluff can supply! Need a bookmark, and want it to depict your favorite character? Chill out, Bumfluff's got this!

Prices are always low, shipping is always affordable, and based on the individual commission. I will always stay in contact with you, from the moment you send me the first PM, to the time your commission reaches your door. I'm also willing to do trades! Because I know you all make great stuff too!

I accept Paypal, check, and money orders. :3 Send me a message for details.
On Facebook? Of course you are! Check us out at http://www.facebook.com/bumfluffindustries for updates on our growing company!

UmbraSword,
FurAffinity member and Bumfluff C.E.O.

Hello, FurAffinity. Perhaps you've seen http://www.furaffinity.net/view/6644891 ?

That pillow was made for a friend of mine, and some other friends asked me for one of their own. How sweet of them!

So, I've been thinking to myself, maybe I should make them for other people? Share the soft, squishy love? I kind of like that idea, actually. I love to make things for people!

So, here's an ad for commissions:

Nerdy pillows for sale! Any size, any shape, any color, and (just about) any insignia! Interested? Send me a PM!

I'll do just about anything that I can cut out and attach to fabric. This means sports logos! However, if you'd like a pillow for your favorite team, please include the city they represent (ex. the Boston Red Sox, as opposed to the Red Sox, or the Sox).

Prices are always low (I can't charge stupid amounts for stuff, I feel bad xD), and based on the individual commission. I will always stay in contact with you, from the moment you send me the first PM, to the time your commission reaches your door. I'm also willing to do trades! Because I know you all make great stuff too!

I accept Paypal, check, and money orders. :3 Send me a message for details.

Here's an opporunity to essentially ask me anything about my writing, or me as a writer. I'll take any question, unless its OBVIOUSLY innapropriate. Ask me about how I feel about fetishes, what I'm working on, what you think I should work on, ect.

Basically, I want some interaction with whoever watches my page, or thinks I'm a decent writer. Open my mind to new things! Learn about me! Make me more than a silly icon on a website page!

BRING. IT. ON.

"This is Galaxy News Radio, and I'm your friendly neighborhood disc jockey, Three-Dog! What's a disc? Hell if I know! But I'm gonna keep talkin' anyway!

"News time, children! There's been talk going through the Brotherhood of Steel grapevine about a patriot who walks among us. Listen carefully, children... because this cat's living, breathing hope. One of the Paladins had the chance to sit and talk with this guy. He calls himself a Captain. No one knows where he comes from, or how he got here, but its all too clear why. Armed with a shield, he's out there doing what the Enclave only talks about. So if you see the American Captain out there, give him some love and support, children. And now, some music."

“You're listening to GNR – that's Galaxy News Radio – and I'm your host, Three Dog! Get ready for some news!

“Listen up, children. Rumor has it there's been something' cookin' in the abandoned Rob Co. factory. Reports have been coming in about a strange cat in even stranger power armor wanderin' the Wastes. Friend tech enthusiast? Or the nest big Wasteland threat? Just remember to keep an eye out for this one. And now, some music...”

Just a blurb from my TF2 100 Themes Challenge. Be warned for sadness...

A loud scream echoed through the fortress. Medic slammed his fists on the table, his face wet and his eyes gleaming and wild. He looked at the large covered form on the gurney. He walked over to it and collapsed over it, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I... I failed you..." he whispered, ripping the covering off the body and looking into Heavy's face. "I'm sorry, mein liebling... I am so sorry..." He kissed his dead lover tenderly, and stroked his face. "... I failed as a doctor... as a lover..." He covered his face, his hands staining his cheeks with Heavy's blood. "... Ich liebe dich... mein Heavy..." He covered his lover and grabbed his Bone Saw. "Now... to find zhe man who killed you..."

Just a little thing I wrote involving my novel idea, and the three main characters. Its not really as detailed as I would life, but this isn't the beginning, so sadly most information that's lacking would have been common knowledge at this point... >.< All you really need to know: Torek is a male barbarian, Aren is a female "rogue" (she goes by 'cutpurse'), and Daven is a male magician. The little excerpt here reveals a little 'fun fact' about the group. See if you can figure it out ;)



- - -



Torek looked around, his axe saddled on his bulky shoulders, groaned as his team stepped out into the Arena. Roses fluttered from the stands and to their feet as the crowds cheered.

"... Must they?" he grumbled, kicking one to the side.

Aren pushed her hair out of her face.

"T'is a shame, eh?" she asked, twirling her knives. "Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink."

"Perhaps if you changed your desires," Daven said, dusting off his robes. "Alas, these men are doomed to ne'er know that they lust after a woman-eater."

"Better a woman-eater than less a man," Aren laughed. "But enough mourning of your inability to give life, Daven! They want a fight, we shall deliver!"

"I should only hope that our oposition doesn't attempt to thwart my spells with the LAST tactic," Daven said, ignoring Aren's more insulting comment, as he often did.

Torek laughed, a smile spreading across his broad face.

"A kick to your long-removed manhood?" he asked, Aren laughing even harder.

Daven smiled.

"Torek, your eloquency ne'er fails to send shivers down my spine," he teased. "Perhaps if you can find the time between your animal murder, and the stable boys you take to your bed, I can finally numb the portion of your mind that allows speech. Now, as Aren has spoken, t'is a fight they want, and a fight they shall recieve."

Thor glanced around the entrance hall of the grandest castle he had ever seen in his days. Everything seemed to glimmer... and change... He shook his head, he needed to find the other Avengers.

"Lo!" he shouted. "Where am I? What am I doing here?"

"You're in my home," said a voice behind him. Thor turned to see a man, skin as pale as fallen snow, and eyes that were dark like voids. "And you're here, Thor Odinson, because you've been here before, long ago. Welcome back to the Dreaming."

"What madness is this?" Thor demanded, holding out Mjolnir and aiming it at the stranger's face. "I know not of this realm. Where are we? T'is not Asgard, nor Midgard, nor any realm familiar to me."

"You're in the Dreaming, as I've said," the pale stranger said. "I am King Morpheus..." He crossed his arms and rubbed his cheek in thought. "... I do admit, I prefer this incarnation of you than the one that came before and drank nearly my entire selections of mead. Do you remember that, Thor?"

Thor lowered his hammer and stared at the one called Morpheus in shock.

"... Aye... but t'was a dream!" he said.

"... And here we are, in the Dreaming," Morpheus said. "Come. we have much to talk about."





Cap opened his eyes and looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in an apartment... a very simple apartment. There were two fish on the coffee table, swimming in their little bowl, as fish did.

"Tea's almost done!" shouted a woman from another room. "I haven't made it in a while, guests are kinda rare, so I hope it turned out okay!"

Cap made to grab his shield and kept his eyes on the doorway where the woman's voice was coming from. He jumped when the woman finally appeared. She was pale, and lean, with messy black hair and gentle, dark eyes. She had her make-up done to give the corner of her left eye a small swirl, and she wore an ahnk around her neck. All in all, she looked very similar to the young girls in this time period.

"Here you go!" she said, holding out a mug of tea. "I put a lot of honey in it, I hope it's not too sweet."
Cap took the mug carefully.

"Miss... where am I?" he asked.

The woman smiled and sat on the couch.

"Better get right to the point, then," she said, pointing to the available couch space. When Cap sat down, she continued. "Me telling you my name is kinda moot at the moment, so I'll just explain myself. I've been watching you for decades, Steven Rogers." She smiled. "I saw you grow up, I saw you join the program that got you into the Army... and I thought I would see you die at the hands of the Red Skull... another person I've been watching for a while." She set down her mug and touched his arm. "... I'm Death."







Clint looked ahead and groaned. This place... this weird, freaky nightmare... was just miles and miles of red hallways. He leaned against the wall and sighed.
"... I just want to get somewhere that ISN'T this hallway..." he groaned.

And quite suddenly, he wasn't in the hallway. He was in a large room, where a enormous bed sat, almost waiting. Sitting on its edge, was a person... Either the most beautiful man, or the most handsome woman.

"Welcome, Clint Barton," the person said.

Clint aimed an arrow instantly.

"Alright, lady... fella.... YOU," he said. "You're gonna start explaining everything that's happening. Right now!"

"Is that what you... desire?" the stranger asked.

"Damn right it is!" Clint said angrily, keeping the arrow aimed at the person's golden eyes. But the longer he stared at them, the harder it was to keep his aim, and finally, he lowered his bow.

"I'll explain what I want to," the stranger said. "You're here, in my realm. The realm of want, of cravings... and I am Desire."

"Desire??" Clint asked. "Am I in some freaky coma, or something?"

The one called Desire laughed, a sound so beautiful, Clint was almost angry it ended.

"No, you're here," Desire said. "Because you're mine... you've always been mine. And your friends are not here. But I can send you to them, if that's what you want." S/he grinned. "But you don't want that. You want answers. About me. About you. And this is the place to get what you want..."





"... Steve?"

Tony looked around, but he kept seeing the same thing. Mirrors. Lots of mirrors. Too many mirrors, for his liking. he walked to one and sighed. He looked so ragged... was that really him?

"... Sad, isn't it?" asked a very quiet voice behind him. He turned slowly, face to face with a large, nude woman. Her almost monstrous face was etched in sadness, to the point where Tony didn't have the heart to even bring up the fact that she was naked.

"... Who are you?" Tony asked.

"Someone you know, and someone you've never met," the woman said. "... They call me Despair. Because I am." She examined her ring, a small gold band with a little hook on it. "... You're a hard man to catch. You hide your heart very well, but it aches under that reactor of yours." She frowned up at him. "Have you ever stared into a mirror and thought maybe someone was watching you?"

Tony blinked, but found himself nodded.

"Yeah..." he said.

"That's me..." Despair said. "Queen of mirrors..." She looked into a mirror, one that showed Captain America, rather than Tony's reflection. "... He's a nice man. He's caused you so much despair... and so much love... it was hard to place you. My sister wanted you too... but..." She frowned again. "You and I... we have too much in common. So... let's get this over with..."





Hank covered his eyes. There was so much color, it was hard to see, and this pace he had ended up in was just... silly. He pushed aside a fish balloon and kept walking.

"If I just keep walking..." he said. "I'll find something. That's common sense..." He adjusted his helmet. "... Maybe I can find some insects..." He turned on his frequency and waited for signals. Instead, he got really old music.

"You're listening to D310, music of the mad!" said a man's voice in his helmet. "I'm your disc-jockey, Dee Lerium, and coming up, we've got the music for you, but first, we're going to talk to ants!"

Hank blinked and kept listening.

"I'm here with the Queen's Aunt Ant," the man continued. "Tell me, what's it like working with Henry Pym?"

Hank had stopped everything. He had to hear more. He didn't care. He had to. He had to. He had to.

A small hand wrapped around his, and he looked down to see a girl. Her head was mostly shaven, with the exception of a few long blond locks that were colored randomly, with different dyes.

"I don't like that station," she said. "It makes your head start to hurt... and then the butterflies stop coming by to give you.... I forgot the word." She looked up. "I like your hat. It's pretty."

Hank took off the helmet and sighed. His head felt a little lighter now, enough to think clearly.

"... Where am I?" he asked.

"You're here..." the girl said. "Or... maybe you're there. Either way, its a place you should be. Sometimes, when you work, you get kind of crazy. Crazy like me. Not that you're bad crazy... well... maybe you are. Maybe." She shrugged. "I can't remember who I used to be, either. Can you?"

Hank frowned.

"I'm Hank Pym," he said. "I'm Ant Man..."

"Yeah... I don't like giants and yellow jackets..." the girl said. "But ants are cute..."

".... Giants and Yellow Jackets?" Hank asked.

The girl nodded.
"Um... I'm Delirium..." she said. "... I want to talk... but not here. Let's talk in the talking place, where we can concentrate on talking."

There was a time when I would say that I was the best there is at what I do... that what I do isn't very nice.... And it's true. I don' know who created me... but it's obvious why.

Men who look my age are off gettin' married... playin' games with their kids... Me? I'm half-soaked in blood that ain' my own, tryin' to keep the one person who hates me more than I love them alive.

... Daken... He's my son... my only real flesh 'n blood in this world... A boy I coulda raised into a good kid... now, he's all grown up, and determined to kill me.

Call me stupid... call it pointless... but I'd still do anythin' for 'im. Even now, as I'm sittin' here, usin' my own cowl to staunch the blood pourin' outta him, his hand's scratchin' for my throat.

I know why... We almost had 'im... The bastard, Romulus, was an inch from our claws... but he brought the roof down on us. I had to choose. Instead of takin' him out, I tried to stop a two-by-four from impalin' my son.

I keep tellin' myself that once he's outta danger, he'll understand. He never does. He never will. I doubt I would, to be honest.

I look down into his eyes... they look so much like his mother's... only his pour out hatred.

"... It's okay, Daken..." I whisper, grabbin' the hand tryin' to strangle me. "... Yer gonna be okay..."

He will be. His healin' factor's almost as good as mine. But that chunk of wood got 'im pretty deep. I just hope the others find me before he loses too much blood...

My name is Harry
I like to herp
Runnin down the hall
And then I derp
Then I see a monster
And I hit it with a stick
Cos I'm Harry Mason
And that's what I do
But then I hear the radio
And I run away
And I piss myself in the process, because I'm not awesome like Travis Grady who can use everything as a weapon.
I am Harry Mason
I like grapes

But not really. KEK
I have some art, but none of its furry... and I'm not sure if I should post it or not. Nyaahaha, what a thing to be confused about, huh?

Baw, I wonder if I should post something about that fursona I was given xD

Ciao
Umbra

I'm here because my two friends are... xD and I'm not a fur. Yet I have a fursona... Because cows are awesome.

Go me xD