Page ninety-nine!

So I decided to do this blogfest. It's where you post the ninety-ninth page of your novel. And I signed up, thinking that I would have SOMETHING.

Turns out, exactly halfway through page ninety-nine is where my novel starts to deteriorate and become just a random spew of my brain that involves the characters getting into a ghetto fight and talking about feminism among other things. It was really late and the last few days of NaNo. I can't really make an excuse other than that.

Even though people will be all 'WHAT NOW.' when they read it, I feel like it gives insight to kinda what kinda sorta goes on inside my brain. :D

Without further ado...

"No," he shuddered. "She seemed a bit crazy and...clingy. I didn't want to have her near me."

"Well, she's showing how crazy she can be." Nesca smiled at the both of them.

"A fan club, though?" Chemile raised his eyebrows. "I know you're amazing and all, but do you really need a fan club?"

"I guess he does." Nesca patted Quintille's head. "And I'm going to be the first person besides her to join it. Just to piss you off."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I'll lead them right to your door and everything. You know... unless you decide to make me a mayor."

"I told you I would think about it."

"I bet she's wondering where you live. I'll just head on home and send her a message to tell her your room number."

"OH HELL NAWWWWWWWWW." Quintille took off his earrings and handed them to Chemile. "Hold my earrings for me. This is going to get messy."

They then started circling each other like sumos and Quintille body slammed Nesca to the ground.

Chemile clapped like the good little first lady he was and then gave Quintille his earrings back. He suddenly poofed into an evening gown and struck a pose. "Quintille and Chemile one, Nesca ZEROOOOOOOOOO."

Nesca got up and tried to catch a fish, but started crying instead. "All those sumo lessons. For nothing."

"I was always the stronger one," Quintille said over his shoulder. "I always beat you in fights."

"I guess they were right, back in the day. Girls are weaker than guys."

"NO YOU DIDN'T." Chemile gasped. "Anti-feminist alert! Sound the alarms!" He took off his earrings and handed them to Quintille.

"Oh no, not again."

They started to circle each other. Somehow, Chemile slipped and fell on his face. Lue sat on his head.

 Can't you tell exactly where it started falling apart?

So that's that page of my novel, and I can assure you that it only gets worse after that. Chemile starts mingling like a trophy wife and they die and Quintille turns Jamaican and starts talking about starting a bobsledding team and I break the fourth wall and loin cloths and Harry Potter and Jesus and good golly I forgot about all that. 

 This was fabulous, let's do it again soon. Preferably with a page BEFORE ninety-nine. 

NaNo-type BLOGFEST!

So this blogfest is called Show Me Yours.

It's a thing where you post part of your NaNo novel. And I usually wouldn't do that, but why not? I'm feeling WHIMSICAL today. Except that sounds weird. So, five hundred words or less. I think I can do that.

I do believe I'll be doing my favorite part, which also happens to be the most polished part. Which isn't really saying much.

A little background on the novel. The characters are Quintille and Chemile (and Ion makes a small appearance at the very beginning). Quintille's the president of (City) Two's son. Chemile is a friend. They live on a flying city, and this is when two of the five flying cities are docking to trade people and technology. Some of the people being traded are most of my main characters. Chemile's girlfriend fell off of the side of the dock. Obviously he's all freaky-outy and thinks it's his fault. I hope that makes sense.

The safety wasn't there. Her foot slipped off of the edge and she fell down, towards the Earth, without a safe-parachute to catch her. Without him to lean forward in time to catch her.

Chemile began screaming. "I thought you said there was a safety!" he ran down the center of the dock, back toward Two.

"I guess there was some sort of mistake, sir." The woman who was calling names spoke without emotion, like a robot.

"Didn't you see that? She fell off the edge! She's dead."

"I'm sorry. I will check with our servers and get the safeties back up. I don't know what happened. But she was unauthorized to be on there. She would have been detained anyway, had she not fallen."

There was another 'vrrrrmmm' sound and the safety started back up.

"Now if you'll cross over to Five, please."

He didn't move.

"Sir. Please."

Chemile walked slowly over to Five and he went straight to his room, as soon as he found his way around. He still had no idea who his roommate was. He collapsed on one of the beds.

When it was finally Quintille's turn to go across, he walked down the middle, afraid that the safeties would fail again. He, like Chemile, went to his room without stopping to see the city. Quintille sat down next to Chemile and hugged him until he stopped crying.

There had been warnings that they were going to undock. The room flashed red and there were warnings similar to the warnings that were on Two. "We will be undocking in an hour. Please prepare yourself accordingly." This time, instead of Quintille's father, it was the president of Five's voice. A woman's voice. She sounded nice. Quintille wondered what her name was while he sat there with Chemile.

Every once in a while they would have a three sentence conversation.

"Are you okay?" Quintille would ask.

"No."

"Okay."

Quintille would go back sitting next to him, hugging him, or holding his hand while he cried. He watched the clock on the wall and when it was time for them to eat, he ignored the hungry feeling in his stomach. He didn't know if the room would fetch them food and he didn't want to leave Chemile. The conversation stayed to three sentences, but gradually progressed.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know," Chemile paused. "Maybe."

"Okay."

The room flashed red and the warning sounded. "We will be undocking in five minutes. Please prepare yourself accordingly." Quintille wondered why he had missed the other warnings. Or were there not other warnings?

After they undocked, Quintille nearly fell off the bed. They had another simple conversation.

"Are you okay?

"I think so."

"Do you want food?"

"Sure."

I think the font color might be a little weird, and if it is, I don't know how to fix it.  Also, I can't stop it from indenting. This is weird. Anyway, that's what I have. Comments?

Alligator in French is, in fact, alligator.

Today is officially new year's eve. It's going to be sexy.

I am going to have eight billion friends over and we are going to party and eat and giggle and play freaking video games.

I have not done a book review in ages.

I have not completed a book in ages. I've reread several of my favorites, but I haven't finished a new one. I've started about fifteen (those include Clockwork Angel and Sapphique).

I've been busy being a stupid and playing Sims 3 and reading manga and watching anime.

Sims 3 is an amazing game. My sims, however, are stupid. Let me first set the stage.

I like making Sims of either characters from things I write (LIKE MY NOVEL YOU'LL GET TO SEE INSIDE MY NOVEL WHILE I EXPLAIN THIS) or my friends.

The first family I made in Sims was my trio of main characters plus the best friend's love interest.

Quintille (AUGH IT'S SUCH A LAME NAME WHY WOULD I EVER NAME SOMEONE THAT I NEED TO CHANGE IT.) is my main character and the character creator didn't have any good hair and he looks ugly. Also, since I got only around to figuring out/describing what my characters look like more than halfway through the novel, I ended up getting him and his love interest's hair color mixed up. Way to go, me. He ends up being THE FREAKING PRESIDENT, so I figured that the political track would be good for him. In his wishes, he keeps wanting to quit his job and woohoo with his love interest. Woohoo is amazing because that's one of the ways the game can get away with a T rating. I read that on the tropes page on it. You should try reading it, it's interesting. He adopted a baby because he's weird and he couldn't figure out how to marry his love interest. In that last sentence, replace he with I. Puts out his love interest's fires. Scolds love interest for not going to work. Encourages creeping on young children.


Chemile (AUGH IT'S SUCH A LAME NAME I NEED TO CHANGE IT WHY WOULD I EVER NAME SOMEONE THAT AUGH WHYYY.) is my main character's love interest. Stupid. Does not go to work. Makes fires and stands in them. Creeps on young children.

Lue (I really like this name, mons) is my main character's best friend. Blonde, stupid and whoreish. The most notable of her stupidness is stealing babies. You heard me right. She legitimately STEALS BABIES. Well, not babies plural. Not yet, at least. She picks up Quinny's baby, walks around the house, drops it several times, picks it back up and eventually ends up in the back yard. DROPS IT NEXT TO THE SWIMMING POOL. LEAVES IT THERE. Sometimes when I'm paying attention to another sim, I'll see that the baby's happy meter is low and I have Quinny go to its room and it's NOT THERE. And it's in the FREAKING BACKYARD.

Lumin (okay name, I could have done better) is best friend's love interest. He's probably the best out of all of them. He does things extreme and has a mohawk and he aged up and now his everyday clothes are a green tanktop and purple track pants. And he has a mohawk and he has a mohawk and looks like a freaking stupid. Other than that, he goes to work everyday and is a CIA agent even though his dream was to become a forensic person and I chose the wrong side of law enforcement or something. Whatever, he'll deal.

There are my sims and my characters in my novel and that's totally not how they are in the novel, even though I should totally make them that way because it would be funny.

But I haven't addressed the title of this lovely post yet.

Recently, whenever I talk to a friend of mine (conveniently named Erin as well) I say random words like fish and she responds in French and I say more words and I try to stump her. And I said alligator and she didn't respond and eventually told me that alligator in French is, in fact, alligator.

Just a little fact I thought y'all should know.