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Mini Me Mod

Age. 33
Gender. Female
Location Denver, CO
School. Other
» More info.
Sprocket's Training Milestones
Came home (Aug 2, 2014)
Asked to go outside (Aug 5, 2014)
Slept 4 hours straight (night) (Aug 5-6, 2014)
Crane Count
7/3/13 - 8
7/4/13 - 30
7/5/13 - 36
7/10/13 - 54
7/11/13 - 57
7/18/13 - 67
2/17/14 - 83
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Moon Mod!
To Read:
- Carrie
- Dream of the Red Chamber
- Time to Kill
- Scent of the Missing
- Stiff
Nano mod!
The Tale of the Naked Woman and more freewrites
Saturday. 9.15.07 11:32 pm
So, I was working in the art studio again today (and burned myself again! GAAAH!!!). I was just trying to puzzle out my chair, the seat failing to connect with the rest of the project, when a nice woman, probably in her thirties or fourties, came in to the room.

She asked a couple of different questions, do we have this, where can she find the recyling, etc. Before she left she declared in a lofty way, "I love this place. It's like my home away from home!"

I remember because I thought it was odd the way she said it, she gave the words such fondness. The art building had always felt a lot more like my workplace. I thought that it might be nice to feel about the place the way she did.

Well, after some work time had gone by, I decided that I needed to head to the bathroom. I plowed through the two doors into the bathroom. I threw up my hands in shock. The woman, who I had seen just a moment ago was half naked in the bathroom, her arms mirroring my own, but more for the sake of modesty. She laughed, apologizing. I laughed uncomfortably in response. As I looked around the room, I realized that her clothes were all around the bathroom. Talk about home away from home. I went to the bathroom and she feebly explained to me things about how her neighbors used up all her hot water.

"I'm here a lot," she explained, "I'm usually here. I'm here when other people aren't here"

She sounded irritated! I quickly went about my business as she rambled on, nodding as understandingly as I could. I gave her a nod and a smile before I left and went straight back to my work. I didn't really tell anyone, though there was a person from my Graphic Design class who was working on her project the same time. It was just odd, I decided, so I thought it a worthy enough subject to note here ^_^.

Now for the next installment of the story. If you read the last installment last night, read it again, I changed the end a little.

After that, the next thing Michelle could remember, she was peeling her face off of a leather couch.

“So, how’re you feeling?” a boy, strikingly similar to Cicero in appearance, greeted her. Similar except he was a brunette and was dressed far more conservatively. The door, she realized, had been what had woken her up, the boy was carrying some groceries which he set on the glass table, “Powdered sugar donuts and orange juice, for you. It's what always makes me feel better.”

“CICERO! This is unacceptable! We cannot drive down three hours every time you make a mistake like this,” screamed a woman from the next room.

“Oh God! I don’t even know why I called you. I knew you would be like this,” Cicero groaned, “This is the ONLY time this has ever happened.”

She looked at the boy who was cringing. He looked back at her, “Don’t worry about them. Just eat.”

“What are they arguing about,” she asked.

The threw his eyes up to the ceiling, an expression that was striking familiar on that familiar face. He seemed to search it for a moment before he answered, “You got pretty sick last night, so Aunt Cecilia came down to take care of it.”

“Oh God,” she replied, burying her face in her hands, “I’m soo sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault,” he replied honestly.

She shook her head, “I should have stopped drinking way before I did.”

The boy chuckled.

"Just STOP IT!" howled Cicero.

“Alright, I’ll stop,” they heard Aunt Cecilia shout, “but you are not staying here, you are coming back with us.”

The boy looked even more worried, “Um… grab some donuts, we’re going out.”

She looked over at the kitchen door and dutifully grabbed some donuts.

“What!? This is ridiculous. I didn’t do anything?!” Cicero growled.

“Don’t be difficult, Cicero. You’re father and I have been talking about it for some time now. You simply live too far away from your family and I think this proves it.”

The boy got up from his chair and tip-toed over to the door. Michelle followed him.

“No, NO! I'm not doing it. I'm-“

He closed the door on the barrage of noise, “I’m sorry, I thought that you probably wouldn’t want to hear that.”

They walked down the hall. It looked like they were in an apartment building. The hall was split by a elevator entrance. The boy walked up here and pressed the button.

“How old are you?” she asked, looking at him. She couldn’t decide if it was because he looked like Cicero or because of something else, but he seemed to act very old.

“Nineteen,” he said calmly, a light smile brimming on his mouth. It was much more subdued than Cicero’s, much more delicate, “Yourself?”

“Twenty-one,” she replied, “Do you go to the school?”

He shook his head and laughed, “No, no, we aren’t from around here. We just drove down for Cicero, you know?”

“I guess so.”

“Are you in college?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m- Oh,” the elevator door opened, “That was quick.”

He nodded, “College?”

“Oh, yeah, but not here. I go to school in Wyoming,” she replied.

“Really? Why Wyoming?”

“Well… I don’t know. It’s cheap,” she said. They glided down the three floors to the ground floor.

“I moved your car, I hope you don’t mind,” he said letting her out of the elevator first.

“Shit, I forgot to feed the meter again, didn’t I?” she gasped.

The boy shook his head, “It's okay, we caught it. Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” she admitted, “Thanks. Funny, normally I’m not in the mood for this kind of food when I have a hangover.”

He shrugged. She looked at her watch, “Shit! It’s already one? I gotta go!”

He nodded, “Yeah, I figured. Here’s your keys.”

She grabbed them from him.

“Thanks. Tell Cicero how sorry I am,” she said. A pinch of pain made her reach up to her neck, but she ignored it, “Bye! Nice to meet you!”

And with that she tripped out of the doorway just as the elevator opened on Cicero.

"She's fine. She told me to tell you sorry that she got sick."

Cicero looked at him bewildered, "Why the hell should she be sorry?"

The other shrugged, "Apparently she was more wasted then you thought. She doesn't remember a thing."

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Freewrite 3 - Beyond Nick
Saturday. 9.15.07 2:37 am
Well, yeah. I was writing something great a moment ago... but it was deleted by fault of browser error.... BLAH!!!

:Edit: I have conquered evil! Technically this is my second draft, too, so hopefully it's better... hopefully XD.

Let us branch out, shall we? Introducing Michelle.


Nick flicked open his phone, “Yo, Nick here.”

“Hey, what’re you up to?” the familiar voice of Michelle played over the phone. She was a friend of his from high school. They dated for a while, but they both decided that they preferred just hanging out. Since she’d gone to college, though, Nick hadn’t seen an offal lot of her. Even when Nick ended up going to the same one.

“Uh, hey… Are you drunk?”

“I’m working on it, if I could ever get anybody down here,” she waved frantically at the bartender. He sauntered over loathingly, “Hey, can I get a martini please?”

He gave her a withering look before returning back down the bar.

“Hey, you still there?” She asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Nick replied. Elias walked into the apartment.

“Hey, who’s on the phone?” he asked.

Nick covered the receiver, “It’s Michelle, I think she’s drunk dialing.”

“I am NOT drunk dialing. Jesus, Nick, you have no sense of… Oooo.”

The door had just finished shutting behind him: tall and blonde, he seemed something between an apparition and an exotic reality as he slipped his hands in his designer blue jeans.

“Hey, can I call you back?” she asked, “I just saw someone.”

“Someone you know?” Nick asked.

“I’d like to,” she whispered, “Look, I’ll call you about it tomorrow. I have so much to talk to you about.”

“Uh-yeah,” Nick replied, but she had already shoved the phone in her purse and set about readjusting her shirt and her bra. She ran her fingers through her dirty blonde curls in just enough time to try and look like she wasn’t looking at him. The guy came over to the edge of the bar and put his hand on the bar.

He looked to her as he said, “Hi, is this seat taken.”

“No!” she replied a little too quickly. The mistake made her flush, but he gave her such a wide dimpled face that her anxiety melted away.

They sat there silently for a moment. She kept on slipping glances at him over her shoulder, but she couldn’t tell if he was doing the same. She giggled at herself and sighed. She searched hopeless for the bartender. He face flushed as she sensed his face close to her ear.

”So, does a pretty girl like you have a name?”

”Michelle,” she greeted, holding out her lotion laden hand. It was rose scent.

”Cicero, good to meet you Michelle,” Cicero took her hand and gave it a light kiss.

The bartender dropped of the martini and look over at Cicero expectantly. He shook his head.

”Nothing for me,” Cicero dismissed, “But I’ll pay for that, if you don’t mind?”

Michelle blushed, “No, not at all.”

The bartender rolled his eyes as he walked away.

“So Cicero, like the philosopher?”

“Yeah,” Cicero replied, surprised, “a lot of people don’t know that. Are you a philosopher, yourself?”

“No… studying zoology… Really? People, don’t know Cicero?”

Cicero shrugged, “Ah, it’s alright. Cicero is kind of a dry guy anyway. It’s not always something I want to live up to.”

“’Every man can tell how many goats or sheep he possesses, but not how many friends.’” Michelle quoted, nodding.

“Did Cicero say that?” Cicero asked.

“I don’t know, but I like it,” she replied, “So why do they call you Cicero.”

“It’s my real name,” she giggled. “No, I’m serious! He was my father’s favorite philosopher.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, “I like it, I just haven’t ever heard of anyone called that before.”

They continued to talk, the din of the bar making it hard for them to hear. A number of facts had to be repeated.

“No, just one dog!” she shouted, “She’s a peek-a-poo.”
“What’s that?!”

“Like…. a pekinese and a poodle?” she said, gesturing with her hands, hoping that it would come across.

She continued to drink and he continued to pay for them. He never drank himself.

“Come on! You have to at least have something,” she complained, “otherwise I’ll be the only one of who’s completely wasted.”

He laughed, “then don’t get wasted!”

“No, seriously, have something,” she said shoving her drink towards him.

He shook his head gravely, “Nah, I have a stomach condition. Not that I don’t like… whatever that it.”

She laughed, “I don’t even know what this is.”

She nearly toppled over the back of her chair as she threw her arms out. He reached out and caught her, steadying her. She couldn’t help but turn completely red, though she tried to hide her face as best she could. He held her for a moment, smiling at her and then lifted her off of the chair.

“Why don’t we get out of here? It’s so noisy in here,” he chuckled.

She nodded and followed him out the side-door.


The plot thickens. Who is Cicero? What was he doing with Michelle that night? And how ironic that she called Nick? These questions and more in the next installment.

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Freewrite 2- What happened to Nick?
Friday. 9.14.07 12:34 am
At the stroke of midnight the creatures began to become solid, their gaunt shapes becoming fat. They sprung out of the darkness all at once. There was pain. He could see them flashing around him, teeth and claws flailing around until he didn't even try to keep track of which belonged to which. He just bite and clawed frantically, trying to catch something in his panic. He suddenly felt drenched, for a moment he thought that he had just been sweating, that was normal for his human form, but soon her realized that that wasn't possible.

His fur wasn't drenched in sweat, it was drenched in blood.

His mind began to spin as another assailant latched onto his throat. He howled in agony. He reached up to it, trying to pry the jaws off of him, but it wouldn't let go. He pulled against the face, his fingers clawing for its eyes. The eyeball slid away, but he could feel his claws were firmly in the socket. The creature whinned and sputtered in protest, twisting his head back and forth to get away, but still it would let go. Another beast was clawing at his back, he turned around, throwing it off. He could feel his flesh being incised by the vain attacks that surrounded him. He lifted the one of his neck by the eyes, and threw his body into a tree. He put the tree at his back, ceasing the nipping from that direction. He moaned, clawing at them ineffectually.

"Leave it!"

The voice called out clearly through the night. The dogs immeadiately ceased, but their annoyance was paltable. Nick's eyes rolled up, half out of exhaustion, half to thank God.

"This is private property," the voice said cooly, "Leave before I inform the Lady of the house."

The creatures hissed and spat at the stranger, but they quickly kicked off, disaparating back into the darkness. The figure approached him slowly. He was dressed strangely, as though he had come out of the nineteenth century, but he looked young, about the same age he was. His senses told him that the boy was not supernatural.

"You are supposed to be here either," he commented smiling, "Shall we heal you up?"

The other place his hand on Nick's forehead, it was cool... human, but he could feel a flicker of supernatural energy light up deep inside of him. In a moment, the energy overwhelmed him. It made him feel warm and safe. The wounds on his body cleared, scarless, as though he had never been attacked. One would, however, did not heal so easily. The bite on his neck. It started to close slowly, but an intense pain began to build inside of him.

"unnh-ah!," he whimpered, flinching slightly.

"Shhh," soothed the other, his hand gripping Nick's wrist, "You have to trust me."

The pain grew, as though every bone his body were vibrating, then his flesh felt like it was burning. He reached hastily to claw at the other's hand, realizing that somehow he'd been forced back into his human form. He thrashed back and forth, trying to wriggle away from it. He could see the other's eyes, calm and focused, a cruel irony in his now blinding pain.

"Just try to stay still," the other soothed. The hand on his head slid down to his cheek, the other on his wrist coming up to join it, "This is going to hurt a lot."

He tried to move out of the other's hands, but suddenly he felt completely ridgid and his body no longer seemed to be under his control. A white hot flame seemed to sear his insides in a pain so great that he could not longer comprehend it. He screamed, unsure in anyone could hear it, unsure is he was in his own body anymore. The next thing he knew, he noticed his neck was very wet. The other seemed to be panting, sweat dewing at his brow. He looked up at him, smiling gently.

"Here. For the poison." he handed him a hankerchef and stood up ubruptly.

Nick put it to his neck and wiped it away. What he wiped away was thick and black, like tar, but cool like the insides of an artifical ice pack. He threw it away in disgust. Suddenly, it occured to him what had happened. He lept to his feet, intent on thanking his rescuer, "Hey wait! Come back!" But he had barely taken two steps before he fell back to the ground.

"You're going to feel like that for a while," the young man replied, "If you are going to walk, I would walk twenty feet that way," he pointed, "Then you will be off of our property. They are very strick about that. There is no spirit energy around here for miles, that's how you can tell."

"Wait, what were those things?"

"Don't ask me. He isn't my responsibility. Neither are you now that you're well," he turned around, walking backwards, "As soon as you can, get out of here. I'm serious. There are greater powers in these woods than me and they aren't so fond of your kind."

Nick staggered to a stand and leaned against a tree, "but wait! Who are you? Why did you help me?"

The other stopped and smirked, "I guess, tonight, I'm your guardian angel."

Without another word, the boy turned around and disappeared into the darkness.

So Nick made it out alive, but who were the creatures in the darkness? Why did they attack him? and who was the mysterious young man who came to his rescue? Curious? Tune in tommorow for the next installment.

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My Wednesday
Wednesday. 9.12.07 11:18 pm
Meh, I guess no one really cares about Nick. I sort of wonder what happened to him... Renaye wants to hear about Nick! Renaye, I will write about him soon ^_^.

Well, today was fairly eventful even though I only had one class. In the morning, I went to graphic design. We have a new project where we are supposed to make a statement about politics or something with both a flag and an icon. Today we were supposed to share our ideas, so basically it was democratic rheotric 101. I don't think anyone really cares about politics, so they all cling to whatever is most obvious. I wanted to say something about how people talk to much, but it just won't fly. "You mean you're against free speech?" "Well sort of, it's just... I want people to... you know, use restraint?" "But what if someone said that you couldn't say what you wanted to say!" "Sometimes I DON'T say what I want to say" like now... like always. I am very good at keeping my mouth shut. I'm the only one.

Actually, that brings me to another thing that happened in Graphic class: my group member got in a fight with our teacher. ::Slams head against wall:: We were trying to make a little girl figure and put the power symbol in it, you know: Girl Power. Not much, but we really liked the idea. My teacher wanted us to do more so the guy suggests that we talk about the pay disparity (compared within occupations. I think women are paid about the same when you compare totals.) So the teacher tells us to look at it a little more closely and then talk to her again. We come up with this idea with buttons, which I thought was REALLY COOL! I mean all I wanted was girl power memorbila, like I said, I'm not really for Saying stuff. So we bring up the idea and our teacher is basically like, "I think the buttons should mean something if you're going to have buttons." What she said was though, was a combination of "You don't have to go that far." and "Why do you want to have the buttons?" Our response was, "Well... why shouldn't we have the buttons?" This, in varying forms was bantered back and forth until our teacher, rigid and stern and the guy in my group, leaning forward and shaking his head, had increased to a volume at which we can safely say a fight had broken out. Now, being me, I kept of trying to moderate the conversation, subsequently translating and reflecting for the sake of both parties. I'm not an expert though, and the whole thing was growing more and more out hand. In the end, everyone involved felt a little damaged by it. I wish there hadn't been a fight. Luckly, I finally parceled out what she wanted from us and threw together a new idea. It will actually be easier and, admitedly, a little more direct than the first one. I still wish I could have one those buttons, but heck, it's a job. I get paid in grades. She's getting EXACTLY what she wants, if I can manage it. Besides, maybe I'll sell the other idea online somewhere. Suggestions?

After that I ate and then went to my room to cool off. I was rocking out to "I'm not who I was" by Brandon Heath when I heard a knock on my door.

"Who is it?" I called. It was Heather. She was coming over to study. She's a pretty cool person. I know her from the dorms: she was on my floor for the past two years. We managed to finally get through all of our notes before her meeting, at least I hope so. I feel like I might have kept her over.

After that I went over to the Union and got myself a new sketch book for the croquis[kroh-kee or kraw-kee], live figure drawing, later that day. I stopped by the poster sale but decided that if they were going to charge 20$ for a poster I was so going to buy it from DeviantArt. They have some that I have wanted to buy, but I've been too cheap to get them.

Then there was the Art Pinic. I made an appearance. I got to talk to my other group member and a guy from ASIC. I haven't been to ASIC in a semester and I quit chinese X/ Luckily he didn't ask me why I dropped off of the face of the earth. I heard some new gossip about the art program, filling in a couple gaps I had on why certain teachers left and about new teachers that replaced them. The teachers stood up and introduced themselves, too, so that was even more useful. People talk about so-and-so in the printmaking studio or such-and-such in ceramics and I'm like "...?" So it was good to put faces to names.

I also saw the cutest dog! I'm not sure what her name was, but she's apparently supposed to be pregnant. Those will be some cute puppies. She is a papillion/lhasa apsa mix. It was so funny, I was like "Is that a papillion mix?" The ears were a dead giveaway. The owner looks up at me as though I was some kind of fortune teller. "Yes... She's Papillion/Lhasa Apsa" The father of the puppies are supposed to be shi tzu. She seemed to think the puppies would look crazy, but the truth is that the Lhasa Apsa and the Shi Tzu have very similar lineage and definitely confirmation. I took me a couple of months to work out the difference between them: the Lhasa Apsa is actually a lot bigger and usually has heavier hair than the Shi Tzu. An easier way to tell is that the Shi Tzu is shown with a top not while the Lhasa Apsa is not. The papillion is not quite so similar, but it only gives the dog a little more of a foxy look, and who can resist those butterfly ears. I tried to explain some of this to her and then realized that all the junk coming out of my mouth must sound like a foreign language. Eh, I know a lot about dogs.

The last event of the evening was going to the croquis. I went in and started talking to a girl. She's from the tech school across the way. She is becoming a professional boxer right now in the heavyweight class. She was our live model. This was the second time I had drawn a live figure, formally, and the first time I had ever drawn a nude model. It really isn't as strange as it seems. Drawing really isn't like normal seeing. The stare of an artist is unusually focused and somewhat disconcertining, but, as an artist, you aren't really looking at the person per-se, it's more like you are looking at hundred of little pieces of information within that figure. Oh, this shadow is walking over here, this eyebrow runs along here, these eyelashes don't actually look like eyelashes, they look like they are a part of the shadow that is up there. You check quickly back and forth, trying to make sure that everything lines up. The iris that you were drawing flicks towards you and the eyebrow that you just finished puckers inquisitively. You look back at your drawing and wait for them to go back to where they were. I have two full drawings of her that I might show you all later, but I don't feel like scanning them right now. The two guys and the girl that were also drawing did some really amazing drawings, actually a lot better than mine XD, but I can't show you those.

And so I end my day, here again with you, dear reader. The music taps it's beats into my brain, the keys tapping a beat somewhat similar. I look at the letters on the page, thinking about which ones I should leave and then decide, that I am ready to go to bed. Goodnight.

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A nighttime freewrite
Wednesday. 9.12.07 1:45 am
Right, so barring sleeping or doing something purposeful, I've decided that I haven't really done a freewrite in a while lately. The ping-pong song is clicking back and forth through my noggin... I will try and write something about Nick...

The chilly night air reached out its hand to ruffle his fur. He shook his head gently as it passed. His nose went to the ground, delicatly picking up the scents on the ground. A maze of foot-traffic entered his nose, filling it with all sorts of questions. Who was it who that dragged that wrapper on their foot? Why did that schnauzer want to head over there? What was that smell? He carelessly picked through the grass, trying to ignore his own mind, clearing it for his real purpose here: he was looking for ghosts.

His nails clicked against the pavement. It was almost midnight. The others would be here soon, but there was something different in the air. There had been something different for a while. He let out a thin sigh, snorting lightly through his long snout.

His hair bristled. There was something here. He felt a deep growl fill his chest, a machine for the menacing noise. Cool it, Nick he heard. The mental voice eased him. He turned around expecting to see his mentor standing over him, but he was shocked. His mentor was not there. Nick sniffed the air tenatively. He must be close, or else he couldn't have communicated like that.

Illiad? he ventured, using the mentors nickname. There was no response. The growl renewed in his belly as he started to turn. There was something wrong about this, he could feel it in his bones. Where was it. A causal hand seemed to stroke the ends of his tail hairs. He turned around to face it, hurling a sharp bark after it. There was nothing there. He tuned into his senses, trying to hail some sort of indication of what he was dealing with. There was nothing. Not in the way that brings ease. The sort of feeling you get when you flick on the lights and you realize that nothing's there. It was that keen terrifying nothing, the kind of nothing that you see when you turn on the lights and you know that whatever it is must be behind you.


Nick turned a full circle and began to run out, his feet tearing up the dirt as he went. He accelerated deeper and deeper into the trees until he had to stop and catch his breath.

Nick! the voice of his mentor echoed through his head again. Unlike before, Nick was not quieted. He bundled up his strength in his shoulders, slowly rising up from all fours into a half-change. His whole body grew, bulgding and blistering as he grew taller and more mostourous in the full moonlight. Finally, he reached his full height, an equal hybrid of man and beast. He could feel his fear ebb into action. Now, like this, he was finally best equipped. He lifted his hand to the sky and tried to gain some more insight. Nothing, just... lack. He twitched his ears to the bells in the distance. It was a chime for the hour. The light melody seemed so queer in the depth of the forest. His eyes quickly clicked over of the landscape. One bell. The forest began to darken. Two. The growl sputtered through his throat. Three. Pinpoints of green light pricked the oncoming darkness. Four rings. Nick pulled himself down onto his fours. Five. A tough bark shattered from his monstrous throat. Six. Thin animals, like starved cyotes slinked out of the black curtain. Seven strokes. Nick's bark began high pitched with fright. Eight strokes. The creatures chittered. Nine. More lights pricked the darkness. Ten. They were all around him. Eleven. All of them began to close in. Midnight...

Well, that's midnight for me. Turning into a pumpkin! Do you want to hear the end? Leave a comment and then tune in tommorow night to hear the exciting conclusion!

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Tuesday. 9.11.07 2:20 am
This was done from a ref pic. What'cha think! He's got muscles... ^_^

this is a picture I drew of a shapely young man.  Refresh the browser of imagine through the text...

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