MICKEY IS A BUTTMUNCH.
Name: Athie Emma Lestrade
Age: I'm in high school, but that's all you're getting out of me.
Hobbies: Writing, reading, singing, editing, playing the piano (badly).
Favorite names: Kara, John, James, Alisa, Laressa, Darcy, Duncan, Luna, Anita, Jimson, and others I can't remember off the top of my head.
Q: When will you start uploading again?
A: I 'm taking a bit of a break from the stories I've got listed under my "official" FFN, as I've encountered a block. I am working on Project Tempest though, (through another account). I should be uploading every other week, if I can get the time and motivation.
Q: Do you have any projects in the works?
A: Yes! I've always got two or three projects waiting in the wings. Currently I'm looking at doing a longish series revolving around details, as well as a coffee shop AU, and this absolute monster of a story that I'm still trying to force into making some semblance of sense.
I'm, well, notoriously lazy is the nice way to put it. I'm a horrible procrastinator, and I forget about deadlines, and I skip out on them constantly. I really am trying my best to get back into updating chapters regularly, really I am, but it's hard. Please do be patient with me. Despite having said that, if I start to abandon FFN for weeks at a time, you have every right to come and tell me to get off my ass and finish whatever chapter I'm supposed to be working on. In fact, I encourage you to do so.
It Hath HellI keep thinking about Reese. (He’s my lover, my life, my soul's mate, my always.) You would think, I think, that everybody in heaven was happy, but I just can’t seem to get him out of my mind.
They have these machines
(I call them machines, because I don’t know what else to call them. There isn’t really any technology in heaven, they don’t need it. Some people, mostly teenagers, might consider this hell because of it. I don’t know if there are any machines in hell either. Some people take pleasure in travelling down the long, cramped stairs that wind towards the basement, to gawk at hellions being punished while comfortably seated in cushioned chairs, sipping fruit juice. But not me. So I don’t know, maybe they do.)
that allow you to ‘effectively’ recreate your living loved ones out of epheme (the Angels tell that epheme is what dreams are made of) and your memories. But let me go on record to say that they can’t even produce