Have I not drawn anything for 3 years? Yes.

Despite the lack of content, I will still receive a periodic boost in reblogs and new followers every so often and I think -- wowwy that’s rad.

Anyway, a big thank you for people who share a passion of Fallout sharing my work. I hate to say it - but after so many years and literally having to scrub off a layer of dust from my tablet, I’m feelin pretty rusty. I feel like I don’t even know where to start.

I have been away forever, but I appreciate you reaching out! I understand this question is very old. To answer your question - yes, you can share my content to other sites. I would prefer if you can provide a link back to my page.

Hey! Thanks for the comment even if I’ve been pretty MIA this last year or so. I switched careers and received a hefty promotion in the real estate industry and have a bunch of different milestones in my life coming up which makes it harder to produce art or be as engaging online. But I still ghost this site daily.

What you’re asking is a bit complicated because it means understanding the agroecosystem (which is definitely not my specialty), but I can try and give my opinion given what I know:

First -- Let’s Look at Farming Practices post-war.

The most important thing we need to look at for growth is the quality of soil - topsoil if we want to be specific. The reason the barren wasteland image gets thrown around in post-apocalypse media oftentimes is because there’s a common concept that a massive atomic explosion would completely sap the earth of essential nutrients that sustain plant-life. Healthy soil contains nutrients and bacteria.

It’s very probable that the land is so damaged for a lot of farmers in the apocalypse that it takes more than adding brahmin dung and other organic matter to the soil to return the land to its’ natural state.

That’s where “cover cropping” comes in.

This is done by planting columns of razorgrain between harvests.

Successful farmers might usually then have patterned columns of razorgrain -- followed by tatos, and then followed by razorgrain again in repeating sequence or any other selective crop they want a higher and better yield of.

This serves several purposes: to prevent further soil corrosion, to keep the new nutrients from dissapearing too quickly, and allows farmers to not have to till the soil in the future -- which is typically an arduous task and takes up a lot of valuable time for survivors. 

But this is just for a mutated crop to survive at this point.

So then, how likely might it be that post-war seeds would be planted?

 There’s a few reasons you probably wouldn’t see a farmer waste their time on a seed they weren’t already familiar with growing: on a cellular level – we can assume traces of radiation still exist in the soil itself and in whatever organic matter was used to try and enrich it. That would make it very difficult for a pre-war crop to take root.

 But that’s not even accounting for plant-related diseases that would have mutated over time, not to mention pests and stray fauna being attracted to a clean form of sustenance. Farmers most likely would also consider the possibility that such a rare crop would make them a target to thieves.

So--  is it possible? I’d say yes. However, the only way I can feasibly see it working is if someone with the time and means to do so were involved to control the uninhabitable conditions to accommodate the needs of an unirradiated seed  – and this would probably be done in small-scale testing since seed inventory would be limited to work with.

Hey everyone, still around. Just extremely busy after another career advancement and shift into a different industry.

The troops have been rallied for more D&D! Meet the Brimstone Societys' favorite sweetheart npc: Percy Frostfeather, kenku and indentured servant of "The Warden". So far the Brimstone Society has gotten him beaten up, thrown a blanket covered in vomit on him, and gotten him beaten up again. Yeah... he's having a rough time...

More D&D stuff. The previous DM got tired of DM'ing and just wants to be a player, so he was very happy to offer the position to me. I've been home-brewing a separate campaign. Here's a sneak-peek at two NPCs I've been working on (as well as some props).

Vatinne - a illegal arms dealer/shopkeeper. She has a vice for fancy clothing and jewels. Unfortunately most of the illegal imports are too big for her so her clothes always sag off. Hot tempered, but easy to bribe.

Faltrem - captain of an illegal trade ship named "The White Flower". He is responsible for importing his cargo to an anonymous patron. Hostile on-sight.

“Now, most who survive are like this: Splicers. They are drug addicts, vicious animals.”

More painted D&D figurines, this time for a Dragonborn Fighter!

I really wanted to make a snowy/seasonal model and loved the idea of covering his armor and cloak in frost. The other figurine was fun because I got to work with fading two colors together and adding darker colors around the musculature to exaggerate the dimensions.

In my spare time I started a new hobby: painting miniature figurines for one of my D&D campaigns with “The Snowden Collective” (that’s the name of the group). 

These are the first ones I ever painted, so they’re a bit messy.

Hekmet is my low intelligence - high strength Dragonborn Fighter. I ended up buying a paladin set because they were sold out of the fighters at all the shops around here. (I will be posting my painted fighter set in a few days!)

Some things Hekmet has managed to do so far:

- Scribbled into the “forbidden” book (ie: Gorgoth’s chat-log) “hI, iT Me” (he never learned how to write beyond the education of a childs’). - Tasted poison and took damage, but is such a soft boi he didn’t realize it’s deadly, so he just thinks he ate hot sauce. - The group’s gnome wizard etched his name into the local statue. Since then has been leaving it gold pieces as a tribute. Hekmet believes Balthazar is a deity incarnate. He has become one of the main acolytes to Balthazar: God of Few. - Tried to hug an enemy into submission.

Switching jobs only to be fired by my new one was enough to make me want to return to bed, never to return from the heavy blankets. Had it not been my fear of being unable to pay bills and rent, I probably would have gone back to it. “Take a few days to relax and get your head straight.” My husband had said. “There’s no rush, my love.”

I wasn’t too keen to return to my bed-rest days, however. My chest was only just recently starting to get better and was starting to feel less heavy and my breaths less painful when I inhaled. Instead, I started furiously applying on Indeed for any and every single job I could that I thought I had a chance at getting.

Of the 28 applications that I filled out that night, one company reached out right away.

That night I was asked when I could start, to which I responded “immediately”.

Custodial work became a breath of fresh air since my string of bad luck. I found I took to it easily and liked the solidarity instead of fearing it like I used to. My ability to work in big empty buildings with other custodians all listening to their own music and doing their own tasks slowly presented the opportunities to be alone with my thoughts and process the pain two work places had subsequently put me through and made me appreciate my current one. Not only did this job give me a chance to virtually be by myself, but it also compensated me better than the other jobs did. It was the first time I felt secured and valued.

There is truly a zen-like quality to the job. To the point I am still working it to this day even if my “main” job does not necessitate that I need two jobs anymore at this point. There’s an unsaid beauty to a quiet bank or half-lit warehouse.

Which brings me to the second job.

Although working as a custodian did not require me to look for more work, I did on a whim one day. Their job listing read as needing a Receptionist/Administrative Assistant for a security company.

In the past years when I had attempted applying at numerous offices, all of which had never even given me a call or a glance. To which I had zero expectation on my part for anything to come out of sending them my resume. By this point I had stopped giving a shit what other companies thought of me or had to offer. I had found a way to help put food on the table and that would suffice.

Imagine my surprise when another company reached out to me right away.

I arranged the interview for around 1 pm that day before going to my other job for the evening. When we met, I was extremely casual about it. Again -- I had just stopped caring. I had become so tired of dealing with employers, the song and dance of trying to impress people, and being dissapointed I just didn’t care anymore.

 I told them of my background, that I was fired from my last job because I had been asking questions about taxes, and told them that if they were to hire me I would be more than happy to use my Digital Marketing and Design skills as they had a wealth of marketable material, but hadn’t been utilizing them properly for social media. Looking back, I know now that my cavalier attitude came off as extreme confidence.

A couple days later as I was cleaning at a small business I received the phone call.

“..... We have been reviewing our candidates and you were the top one selected. Are you still interested in the position??”

“Why yes! Yes I am!!”

“I know we had originally discussed strictly hiring you for an Admin position, but if you’re still interested, we would love to take you up on the offer on also working with us to design marketable ads and materials for our customers and for our partners.”

“Of course!”

“Awesome! How soon can you start??”

After the phone call ends I call my husband and practically scream into the phone that I was accepted for the job, as well as the additional offer to be their Digital Marketing Designer for their company.

This time when I start crying, it’s tears of joy.

The first month and a half I have to keep taking deep breaths while I’m driving to and from work because I keep tearing up on how unreal this moment is. I think to myself for the first time since I left the dry-cleaners “I’m doing it... I’m doing it...”

I still work as an AA/DMD and Industrial Custodian. Both of which have been fantastic opportunities.

Through both jobs I made friends and people actually seemed to like me. I even got invited to go out for drinks, and my three current D&D campaigns are through work associates I met as a custodian! 

I’d like to attribute this all to just being a headstrong woman that remained unshaken from the  experiences I went through these past few months. But in all honesty that would be a lie on how things happened, and an insult to my former self that went crashing through those eclipsing emotions. One on top of the other.

I was wounded and scared. I was pissed, spiteful, and I had stopped trying so hard. The praise, friendship, and kindness I’ve found along the way at my new jobs has been worth the whole ordeal. I finally feel fulfillment. I feel happy.

I’ve been going back to my therapist to deal with a lot of the anxiety and PTSD that is due from other traumas in my life and this on-top of it. A lot of my attendance is to help deal with general anxiety and fear that something horrible is suddenly going to happen and prevent me from going back in a dark spiral (health anxiety ho!).

I will leave you with this at least: you don’t have to be doing better than you are now. Just try and do your best. :) I am hoping within’ the next few months to start drawing Fallout Foods studies again, as well as some other pieces peppered in here and there.

I left the job to my abusive boss behind. The longer I stayed away from there, the more I was able to detect things I didn’t before that made her such a toxic manager in the first place. I’m still hurt. Nothing was ever good enough for her. Every attaboy was always followed up with a wagging finger. There were so many contradictions.

Eventually I worked for a salon and was fired exactly two weeks later for asking about taxes.

Let me explain.

I had never worked for a salon before, but had been reassured my educational credentials was perfect for being a receptionist. The hours weren’t ideal, but still weren’t too unlike what I’d already been working at the cleaners. I was eager though! I could do this!  Everyday I came in with my fresh new notebook to take notes, and did extra research on different procedures and programs on the days I wasn’t there that the salon worked with. 2 hours working, 3 times a week to start. I was only there for 12 hours total. Working at a salon was different from an office. But I was willing and happy to learn. I never refused an opportunity to do something. I tried very hard to get to know the ladies there.

Getting to know the ladies was the most difficult task.

Many of these women in some way or another were friends of the owner of the company, or were some way or another formerly family friends or high school acquaintances. The receptionist that train me was a hard woman. Impatient. Cold. A couple years my senior. Any small talk I attempted was brushed aside. She did not want to get to know me. I quickly realized she saw me as a nuisance and looked at me the way a high school girl does that thinks another girl is beneath her.

I received equal distance from the other women, except for a young aesthetician who was a sweet girl right out of high school. They would all go out for drinks together. I was never invited.

In my attempts to fit in I got my hair done. Blonde highlights. I tried to “match” their aesthetic. Oh yes. Everything in an after school special that preaches about you being you is right. It did nothing for me but made me more of an outsider.

That wasn’t why I was fired though.

On a lazy Friday when I wasn’t working I did laundry. When I got back from the laundry room I saw I had missed a call on my cell.

Listening to the message I could hear the manager on her phone. In the background there was the chatter of the salon. Her chipper tone was reassuring. She said she was back from her trip and wanted to know if I could work the weekend shift. It had only been 3 minutes since she left a call. Excellent!

I happily called her back.

Her tone was still fantastically upbeat. I asked her how the trip was. We made mild small-talk.

“Before we get any farther though I want to ask you about the tax forms that I filled out.” I had said. “Can I get a copy of those? I’m kind of a stickler about record-keeping”.

The line goes quiet.

“Actually... I wanted to let you know this isn’t working out.”

“... what??”

“This job seems too hard for you. The girl training you in says that this is all too overwhelming to you. This salon just doesn’t seem like a good match.”

I’m standing by the patio at this point. Looking out at the flowers. Focusing on those red blooms I’ve been working so hard to keep alive. She’s telling me it’s nothing personal. I’m just not meant to work for a salon. I know I’ve been fired. But I still can’t comprehend it. This is the first time this has ever happened to me. Am I cursed?? 

It would take me a day or so to even realize the reason she was firing me wasn’t because of my performance, but because they aren’t paying income tax and my inquiry could start an audit.

“Are you telling me that I’m fired?”

“I am. Sorry.”

“I don’t understand. I guess... goodbye.”

I hang up before she can say goodbye.

For a moment I do nothing. I bathe in the sunlit. Try and think of what my next move is. I call my husband but at this point I’m still not even crying... just stunned. After I tell my husband the news, he gives his sympathies and reassurance and we finally hang up, I’m still standing there.

Then I cry.

A darkness that’s been bubbling forever spills over. And I feel like the last seam that is splitting open finally does in me.

I am so useless. I am a burden.

My first thought is how difficult it will be to pay the bills. How stupid I was for leaving the cleaners in the first place. I should’ve never looked for another job. I should’ve stayed where I was. I was stupid for thinking I could do anything more. Pursuing a career was stupid.

At that moment I hated everything in me and wanted to destroy every piece of myself.

In the silence and being alone my thoughts go to a dark place. I think about how erasing myself would affect my loved ones. I think about if there even is a “good way” of killing myself that won’t completely and totally scar the love of my life. I try and do the math to see if he could even afford the apartment, food, bills, and the cats if I died. I think to myself if I have to go through the logistics to see if my husband can literally live without me I need help.

I look up the number for the Suicide Prevention Lifeline (1-800-273-8255) and hold for twenty minutes. My hands are shaking. I feel like I have my crying finally under control when a woman with an older sounding voice answers the phone.

“Hi um... I’m not suicidal or anything...” I try to clarify. (I try to tell myself that.)

“It’s okay. I’m here to listen. What’s been going on with your life?” I choke on my breath. I can’t control my tears. They come out hard. I sit on the ottoman, my face in my hand and start to sob into my phone. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know who else to call...”

My whole story comes pouring out. And once it starts, I can’t stop. I tell her everything. I tell her my feelings. I tell her how lonely I’ve felt and no matter how hard I’ve worked, I’ve still failed. I tell her that I feel like I shouldn’t call because people have worse problems than me. I tell her I feel selfish for taking up the line. I tell her how much I hate myself for thinking switching careers was a good move. I tell her all these things.

Her calm tone is reassuring. She asks me if I have a strong support network. She asks me if I can lean on them while I go through what I’m going through. I tell her yes. I tell her that I don’t know what to do next. I ask if she knows any resources for me to go to for finding employment. She gives me references for agencies and help online.

I talk to her a little longer before I feel confident that I can be left alone. I thank her for taking the time to talk to me.

“You’re welcome. I want you to know no matter what you’re going through you can always call our line. Please don’t be afraid to call.”

I start crying again at that. “Thank you. I will.”

When my husband gets home I tell him about reaching out to the Lifeline. At first he’s worried. But I’m able to reassure him. That they were able to help me and I told him the details of today so far. As always, he is supportive and is relieved I took action that helped save me. We talk for a long time that night.

I immediately reopen my resume for Indeed. I fill out 28 applications that day.

One company calls me back immediately at 7:24 pm that night. (Part III)

I want to clarify that the Suicide Prevention Lifeline is there for people experiencing a crisis. You don’t have to be suicidal to call. They are also available if you are seeking emotional support! PLEASE DO NOT HESITATE TO CALL THEM!! THEY ARE FANTASTIC!

__________________________

So I’ve been putting off writing this, just because for these past couple of months I haven’t been feeling very secure, and with the time that I do have in-between everything else -- I could always count 101 reasons why not to do an update. But here I am. My therapist has been encouraging writing as a form for me to do some “emotional auditing” to my experiences. I’m in a better mindset and in a better emotional state than I have been for a long time, so here we go.

First, let’s start when my boss screamed at me for 45 minutes on the phone when I quit my job at the dry-cleaners.

Back in March when I left being a dry-cleaner my boss had been verbally abusive to me on my last day there. I had (technically) given her a heads up 23 days in advance that I was going to be quitting and looking for work somewhere else. Regardless of my warning, she had refused to hire someone new. By the time I had given my written two-week notice, I had been offered a job as a receptionist at a salon. There was a noticeable shift in their attitudes toward me when I had officially accepted. But I chose to ignore it. The day before my official final day, my new boss called and asked if I could start a day earlier as she’d be vacationing in California and wanted to see me before she left. I agreed. I decided that I would write management an email telling them I would be leaving after that night and apologized for the inconvenience for leaving a day earlier than expected.

Then the phone call came.

“Do you have any customers in the shop?” “Nope. How can I help you?” “Good...”

Her rattly voice from smoking too many cigarettes for too long increased in volume. She kept demanding to know why I didn’t tell her sooner even though I had only learned a half-hour before this was happening. She told me I was such a disappointment. That I had betrayed her and the company.  “And between you and me, I know your excuse is bullshit.”

I don’t remember exactly everything I had said. How I defended myself. If I even did. But I do remember how even-tempered I tried to be. How surreal the moment was. Thinking to myself that there was no way that management would do this.  I do remember saying though, “Are you kidding me right now?!”

I have always been honest and uphold myself to the standard not to lie -- because when I do I feel that it makes it harder to account for those lies later. I had always been sincere to her. Maybe that’s what stung the most in that insult. Had she always thought this little of me?? Still, the abuse continued. Whatever frustration she felt at that moment losing an employee came out in a furious storm of insults. She was panicking. She told me to forget ever using her name ever again as a reference. She told me that I was being unprofessional. That I was essentially a failure.

Looking back, you always think of the right thing to say days after. I remember tears collecting in my eyes in that moment. I remember shaking so badly I could hardly hold the phone. I remember telling her that I was considering closing shop early because I wasn’t getting any work done. “DON’T YOU DARE!!!!” “Well then Diana. You need to hang up and let me do the rest of my job.”

That I do remember saying. I remember her freezing in that moment. I could feel the mental gymnastics she was doing on the other line, trying to figure out how serious I was on enacting my spoken threat and if she could continue. Whether or not she said something in-between that I don’t remember. “And please. Never EVER call me again. Do you understand?” “Don’t worry! I won’t.” *click*

When my husband came to pick me up I was sobbing. I recorded my entire shut-down procedure on my phone. Cashing out, leaving the keys and uniform. Everything. Because after the phone call I really didn’t know if she would be petty enough to try and fuck me over later. I had known before that Diana was abrasive, but in that moment alone she was practically vengeful -- dare I say, insane.

I had been depressed before. But never so much as to literally stay in bed for days. I would go to work to train at my new job and immediately put on my PJ’s and fall straight into my comfortable nest. When I wasn’t scheduled to work I would lay in bed and watch TV. For a week and a half straight I isolated myself to my mattress. My husband would come home from work and I would still be laying in bed.

I remember how supportive and caring about the situation he was.

“Take your time,” he’d keep saying to me. “It’s okay. You’ve been hurt. You just need to help yourself feel safe again.”

At times my anxiety would spike and I would have to do emergency breathing sessions and body scans or it would get so bad I couldn’t hear anything but my heart pounding in my ears and my chest was so tight I would clamp my eyes shut in pain and I couldn’t remember how to breathe. I wondered if I was dying and this was the precursor to a heart attack. I didn’t realize until later these were panic attacks. Sometimes I would cry. Sometimes I would just lay in silence and listen to my pounding heart. I tortured myself sadly by replaying the conversation with my ex-boss in my head. Wondering if she was going to come pounding on my door. If she was going to call my cell. If I would get a letter in the mail from the company saying that I had wronged them in some way. She suddenly had become my bogeyman.

There are still two more parts to my story that I am going to write. But for now -- here is part 1 for you. Things do get better from here. But of course -- always with time.

Life has been busy, but we've found time to start meeting with a small D&D group on the side. Here's a few things I've been finishing in anticipation of our meeting next weekend:

- Remade character sheet

- Concept design of my Dragonborn: Hekmet

- Reorganized notes

S T R A I G H T  O U T T A   R A P T U R E

Cosplays: Bioshock Splicers Cosplayers: Ranger-26, LARyter of Circe Sisters Cosplay

The Cosplayer Within: I did one of these a long time ago, but figured it needed an upgrade! I had a pleasant surprise these past few weeks when I realized I was able to wear my Link cosplay comfortably again (it hasn’t fit me for a few years now).