Been doing text-based RP (aka Multiplayer Notepad:tm:) since around 2003, all the characters I post here are my personal RP chars. I don't really have a "fursona." It should go without saying, but considering the community this is, I feel the need to say it anyway: Do not use my characters for your own projects without my permission. Whether that's RP, webcomics, using them as if they're your own OCs/sonas, whatever. Gift art is welcome, but any other use of my characters must be approved by me beforehand. In other words, OC DONUT STEEL REEEEEEE

I read and appreciate every watch, fave, and comment, but don't often respond publicly. If you want to reach me you're better off sending me a DM directly.

"Man is matter.. Drop him out a window and he'll fall. Set fire to him and he'll burn. Bury him and he'll rot, like other kinds of garbage. The spirit gone, man is garbage."
I am garbage.

"Philosophically, it does not, at first sight, appear reasonable
(many writers have endeavoured to prove it unreasonable) that a
peaceable and rational person, whose trade is buying and selling,
should be held in less honour than an unpeaceable and often
irrational person, whose trade is slaying. Nevertheless, the
consent of mankind has always, in spite of the philosophers,
given precedence to the soldier.
And this is right.
For the soldier's trade, verily and essentially, is not
slaying, but being slain. This, without well knowing its own
meaning, the world honours it for. A bravo's trade is slaying;
but the world has never respected bravos more than merchants: the
reason it honours the soldier is, because he holds his life at
the service of the State. Reckless he may be -- fond of pleasure
or of adventure-all kinds of bye-motives and mean impulses may
have determined the choice of his profession, and may affect (to
all appearance exclusively) his daily conduct in it; but our
estimate of him is based on this ultimate fact -- of which we are
well assured -- that put him in a fortress breach, with all the
pleasures of the world behind him, and only death and his duty in
front of him, he will keep his face to the front; and he knows
that his choice may be put to him at any moment -- and has
beforehand taken his part -- virtually takes such part
continually -- does, in reality, die daily."
- John Ruskin, "Unto This Last"