It turns out that the last journal I posted (www.furaffinity.net/journal/6336222/), really inspired me to practice a bit with some challenging poses, situations and characters. Go ahead. Read my small stories and share with me what you think about these sketches...
______________________________________________

"BULL-ding some more muscle"
Because staring at the muscular dude at the gym was never a great idea. Even less so when he's the one who suffers from frequent mood swings and testosterone-driven bursts of anger. You better start running... Not that it would make a difference since with his condition and his strength he would catch you in a heartbeat. Well, next time you'd better choose best who to beef with... Of course, if there even is a possibility for you to walk out of this alive... Good luck with that!
______________________________________________

"Bring me the bling"
"Yo tellin' me you sure this is silver?" The raccoon asked holding the necklace up and inspecting it through his shades. "What if it ain't silver? Huh, punk?" He replied twitching his whiskers and looking at you from above his glasses. "Are you gonna pay me back the difference?" You nodded with a confident smile. The furry fidgeted with the pendant in the metallic chain, clearly satisfied with the new purchase.

Of course he would never know it was fake: he was far too fascinated by shiny things to even care.
______________________________________________

"Chasing knowledge"
You give her some occasional glance, noticing her anguish and her anxiety. She has to learn how to be serious at the lab. I don't care if she is the winner of the very Nobel Prize, rules are rules and the safety within the lab will not be compromised by some silly pup chasing her own tail. With her hands shaking and her eyes constantly peeking over her shoulder, she poured the solution in the beaker, managing to somehow spill not a single drop. Grabbing the next test tube, the golden retriever watched her wagging tail whining. I could only picture myself shouting at her: "No, Jessie, stay!"
______________________________________________

"Mornin' Mr. Magpie"
Impeccably dressed, with an air of grandeur and not a single feather out of place, the bank teller counted the coins for the third time; the shiny pieces of metal bouncing in between his wings, disappearing and appearing again in between the long black and white appendages.

"Hey, I don't mean to be rude but... you know... I would really appreciate if I could have my change back."

The teller looked up right at me, with a mix of anger and disgust. A pretty bird who grows attached to the pretty shiny coins... How pathetic. I returned the angry glare and extended my claw at the corvid. He raised his wing and extended the other to deposit the loose coins in the metallic tray under the dividing glass of the bank for me to finally take them and keep going with my life, despite the dramatic expression of loss all across the magpie's face. That's life!
______________________________________________

"Cha-RATTY"
"Next up!" The rat held up the spoon filled to the brim with the steaming soup. His right eye twitching a bit, a nervous tic that he never got to deal with. The perks of being a convict. You know, the one with the scar that ran down his cheek. He tried to smile back at the next fur in line, just the way he had been told to, only to show a wicked grin, that more than inspire confidence it gave a shiver down ones spine.

Not that the program of social reinsertion had failed... After all, he was already a free citizen, and not only that but also an active participant of community programs. He felt it was the only way he could mend his ways and repair the damage he had caused to the people around him. However, life in prison was like eating a hot jalapeño: no matter how much water you drink to quench the heat, it will always leave an unpleasant feeling down your throat. He had been scared both physically and psychologically by his years in jail, but he felt a new rat. His nature meant nothing to him. He had chosen the wrong path, but he was a firm believer of second chances. And he was making the best out of the one life had granted him.

The rat's whiskers, most of them zig-zagging outwards from his muzzle, twitched when the vapor coming from the deep pot stuck him in the face. The full plate was handed out and the next one in line was received in order to be filled up. Each soup bowl that was filled up was a step closer to filling his heart with joy. He nodded and smiled showing his large front teeth. He was never meant to be a bad rat.