Big Girl Jobs and Celebratory Thrift Store Hauls

Hey WildeKats!!

It’s official, Kat got a big girl job! No more retail for me!! Well, it’s sort of retail… its a sales job but good news: no more facing, cleaning, or stocking for Kat! It’s a full time job and the hours aren’t terrible so hopefully I’ll get a routine going soon so I can blog more.

I get to wear suits–power suits–and I bought my first pair of loafers today and I’m totes obsessed with them. I may have been born in Texas, but Lord knows my fashion sense came from the valley. I don’t do just normal slacks and button downs so I went out thrift shopping for some things to tweak and boy did I bring in quite the haul today! Aside form the adorable brand new loafers I snagged today, I scored two blazers, a pencil skirt and two pairs of straight legged slacks. With a little razzle and dazzle I know have the partial wardrobe of a powerhouse woman from wall street. Give me two months, a trip to the North Park Mall and another pair of bad ass loafers and I’ll be the best dressed employee they’ve ever had.

I love, love, love thrift store shopping. It’s very relaxing, hell… shopping period is relaxing. I’ve been on the hunt for an antique tea pot so I hit up all the thrift stores within a fifty mile radius of my apartment. I haven’t allowed myself to buy any furniture yet though, I’m collecting tea cups and saucers for a very adult un-birthday tea party/bridal shower. Back in Phoenix there were two or three vintage shops down town I would frequent, as long as it’s gently used I have no problem wearing someone else’s clothes. Where else are you going to find those soft t-shirts that fit just right or those perfectly broke in combat boots you’ve practically walked through? Not in a brand store, that’s for sure! Don’t get me wrong, buying brand new clothes is just as exciting but I like my clothing to have character. I once bought this old Deff Leappard tank top that the lady said had been on her rack for five years, before that it came form another store. The shirt is from their Pyromania tour back in ’82! Imagine the stories this shirt has, the places it’s seen! Its exciting!

Alright, enough about my obsessions with thrifting, I’ll let you get back to trolling through other people’s blogs. Love you guys!





Legion of Keepers: Part 2

Anna paused outside the forgotten theater on Oak Street. If thing were as bad as Fred had said and the Assembly was considering a change in protocol, the blonde Legionnaire wasn’t sure if she wanted to enter. This old theater had housed the Assembly for a hundred years; it was long forgotten about, run down and ugly on the outside but the inside was timeless. The marble walls glittered in the traditional candle lit chandeliers; the golden staircases were blanketed in bright red velvet rugs.

Anne had been in the old theater many times and its timelessness always gave her the creeps. Like the legion itself, the theater never changed. Somehow it managed to stay exactly the same even after the earthquakes in 2011. Not a single candle had tipped out of place or did one picture sit askew on the wall. Anne had a theory that the theater was somehow in a dimension of its own—existing outside of time and space entirely, impervious to mundane disasters. But of course her handler Fred continued to tell her how preposterous that idea was every time she brought up the idea.

With a deep breath, the blonde gathered her wits and turned the rusty handle of the grand wooden theater door. Almost instantly the air turned stale; the tension of the assembly was almost suffocating and she still stood in the entry way.

“You’re late,” said a voice. Fred, her annoyingly ordinary looking handler peered down at her from the second floor of the atrium with a disapproving but amused look.

“I’m not late; I just didn’t want to come.” Anne replied as she approached the grand staircase.

Fred crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s that attitude that keeps you in trouble.”

“You can thank my father for the attitude,” the blonde told her handler, “I’ve been told it’s my best quality.”

Anne’s handler only shook his head. He walked over to a golden door just above the staircase. “Your mother is waiting for you.”

“How bad is it?”

“It’s bad enough,” her handler breathed. “You know she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Madame Eveline Chevalier was the Legions Imperial Legate, or general. Though she had only accepted the position less than a year ago, the Madame had been running the legion’s defenses for years. She was an expert at shielding the supernatural world from the fragile reality bubble the humans had wrapped themselves in. By submerging herself in the human world as a famous fashion designer and blogger she was able to poke her nose into things without raising suspicion. She had contacts in every country, had high ranking officials on speed dial and could con the greatest con artist into giving up his tricks.

Anne’s mother was a hard person to talk to. Nearly everyone who worked for her feared her. Eveline Chevalier was a tough and stubborn woman who often thought she knew better than everyone else. Though sometimes that were true, it was hard for the Madame to admit to being wrong. As terrifying as she was, she was compassionate in her own way, after all she had been raised to put others before herself. She came from old family money so most of her earned revenue went to charities. Donations also helped keep the people’s opinion of her high, making it easier to cover up incidents. There was a method to her madness, believe it or not.

Though she was in fact Anne’s mother, the woman didn’t posses a single motherly trait. Not once did her mother take her to school, frame a picture she had drawn or sing her to sleep as a child. In fact, Anne never even knew she had a mother until she was thirteen. Since then, Anne’s mother had been more like a supervisor than a mother. Pushing her to train harder than the other chosen children, criticizing her wardrobe choices and the social life Anne refused to give up.

None the less, Anne loved her mother—though she had never admitted it to anyone but Dan.

“Ah, Annalise, so glad you could make it.”

“I wasn’t given much choice, Mother.”

Anne plopped herself down on the old chaise lounge by the windows that over looked the main stage. Her mother had been sitting at her desk, fondling her glasses and staring at an old piece of parchment.

Madame Chevalier, known mundane fashion guru and fearless Legionnaire leader, pushed herself away from her oversized desk to sit across from her daughter.

“The assembly is considering a change in protocol,” Madame Chevalier began.

“I was informed.”

“We’ve been monitoring recent cracks in the wards, more and more are popping up in the city though nothing has come through.”

“What do you need me for? There are better trained Legionnaires to handle this change in protocol.”

“You are the change, Annalise.”

My BIOWARE Heartbreaks

This is a post I’ve been needing to post for a while. I held off though until I at least played through the first two Mass Effect games so I could feel some Shepard feels too.


It was bad enough having to pick between Hawke and Alistair in the fade, accidentally letting Alistair die in my first Origin’s play through because I didn’t do Morrigan’s ritual and having to murder Carth because he thought I went to the dark side. Now that I’m finished with ME2 I’ve lost Kaiden(my Carth 2.0), Jack, Grunt, Legion and Mordin! No one told me I needed to spend endless hours upgrading my ship and amour or all my faves would DIE! Where are my gamer friends. huh? WHERE ARE YOU?

After my first two play throughs for KOTOR I learned my lesson and managed to save both Carth and Bastilla. I followed a walk through for KOTOR 2 so I wouldn’t loose anyone and make good choices and I’ve done fairly well in Old Republic though I haven’t gotten too far into the main story line–so many side quests! I tried to trick Malak into thinking I would join him again so I could stab him in the back because he’s a freaking turd blossom and then Carth is just like “I trusted you! How could you!” and leaves me on the Leviathan then shows up on the star forge. Bastilla was all like “I’ll kill him for you,” but no, I tried SO HARD to make things right but I had to kill him. I KILLED HIM. I also was playing with a mod so of course when I tried to play the game again I ended up killing Bastilla and both myself and Carth died. I tend to walk the line between good and evil–I do not think that was a good choice.

When I picked up Dragon age I never thought I’d fall so hard–not after KOTOR–but I did. Kat fell HARD. Then I was so wrapped up in keeping Alistair and Lelianna happy, Sten and Morrigan hated me in the end. I never even got Sten’s personal quest. *sobs* Also, because I’m a naturally salty person I picked dialogue options that reflected my personality and became quite the violent little warden. I didn’t even let Alistair kill Logain, I wanted the glory ALL TO MYSELF. And because of my pride, my sweet Alistair died. HE FUCKING DIED. That was three hours of my life that I spent replaying the end of the game to fix my mistakes.

Let’s not even discuss when Isabelle left me in Kirkwall in DA2. I really thought we were getting along then I get this little letter that broke my heart! Then there was the whole Anders and Fenris thing. I didn’t mean to let them both fall in love with me, it just sort of happened. They fought the whole game, then when Fenris left me Anders stepped in with his incredibly charming self and well I’m sure you can guess how Fenris felt about that. That took a lot of reloading to fix that fuck up.

AND THEN I spent 100+ hours on Inquisition, make it to Trespasser after everything that happened in the Fade (Hake is alive dammit, she is one scrappy MoFo) AND FUCKING SOLAS. Like here I am dying while running through these mirror things, my companions are flipping out because I’m crying out in pain all the time but I refuse to go back and there he is in his wolfy get up looking all sad and innocent. I’m SO glad I didn’t romance him.. this is why I play as a human the first time. The look on Cullen’s face was heartbreaking when I fell over in our new war room, then Dorian had to go on and keep telling me to “hold on” like the dear friend he is. It was one heartbreaking scenario after another.

So I decide to play Mass Effect. Everything is going good. Because Carth Onasi’s voice actor was Kaiden’s voice actor I romanced him, we had a wonderful cut scene and I kicked some major ass. I mean, I had to choose Kaiden or Ashley that one time, but Ashley got on my nerves so I wasn’t too upset about her dying. I used Spock logic and she died fighting, which is what she wanted. Mass Effect 2 gets downloaded the next day and I die twenty minutes in, break my entire crew’s heart then wake up two years later covered in scars with robots shooting at me. Not cool. I finally find Kaiden and HE LEAVES ME! But I have Garrus…so it’s okay, yea? NO, NOT OKAY! I have Kaiden’s picture on my desk… WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

Like, I don’t even want to play ME3 because I know what happens (I read up on the game prior to buying it so I could decide to play renegade or paragon even though I still ended up being in the middle). But now I know what to do in my new ME2 playthrough to save EVERYONE in ME3.

Somehow I screwed up a conversation with Jack that I couldn’t rectify and she died because she wasn’t loyal to me no matter how hard I tried to make her like me again. No one told me Grunt would die if I had him lead the second team and poor Legion didn’t even make it off the Normandy 2. Mordin died on the way off the reaper ship which was just uncalled for, he’s too adorable for death! I’m playing ME2 again before I start ME3, I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try and save my crew.

BIOWARE what are you doing? Or more like, why are you doing this? My soul just can’t take it! Now you leave us in the dark about Andromeda AND DA4 with all of this heart break and disdain. Where do you get off breaking young girls hearts like that? As a writer, death makes for good stories but please leave that to J.K. Rowling and give someone a happy ending for Andraste’s sake! And please don’t make me kill anymore companions.You go through all of that trouble, make me love these characters then rip them from my life.

You should all be ashamed of yourselves. But then again you make fantastic games so I guess just keep doing what you do–just know that Kat is watching you.

Have any video game horror stories of your own? Comment below!


Tea, Spotify and Intense Blogging

It’s been a whole eleven days since I last posted! I feel awful, I really do. I’m actually supposed to be posting something like three times a week on My Trending Stories but I find I don’t write well when I’m boggled with stress and running around trying to adult things that I don’t know how to adult.

I had all of these wonderful ideas and just couldn’t find the time to sit and write them. But today… TODAY I WRITE. I have vowed not to leave my apartment for ANY reason. I have tea, biscuits and sixteen hours worth of Spotify music at the ready for today’s epic writing session.

Since I’m not leaving my apartment I had to settle for tea because I cannot make coffee to save my life. Even in the coffee pot; it’s either too strong, not strong enough or it just tastes awful. I’m alone and there for no one to make me coffee because Mulan went back to Thailand and left me here in the states coffee-less.

But fear not WildeKat’s, Kat will endure.

Prepare yourselves. *cue adventurous music*

Here I go. Off to Writingland! (Okay, that was lame but I laughed a little so I’m going to leave it.)



Legion of Keepers: Part 1

Inspired by The Daily Post’s one word prompt of the day.

“Eclipse?” Anna asked her friend who was reading the newspaper aloud to her from across the table. “Is that tonight?”

Dan nodded slightly and continued to read. “This year a total of seven eclipses are predicted to occur, five of those expected to be solar eclipses.”

This is just perfect. Anna thought to herself while she sipped her coffee quietly.

To most people, the word eclipse means little more than the sun or the moon going black for a while. Some find it fascinating, others could care less.

To Anna however, an eclipse meant that the wards protecting this world from all the others would weaken which could potentially lead to the end of the world as we know it. Or at least that’s what the Keepers had been telling her since she was nine. Nothing ever that drastic had happened since the Salem Witch hunts in the 1600’s. All that hullabaloo about the world ending on a solar eclipse was nothing more than a bedtime story meant to inflict fear in the special children chosen to protect this world from the demonic, monstrous creatures that may or may not exist in other dimensions.

Anna was one of those children, but Dan didn’t know that. No one did, not even her own father. Secretly, Anna was trained by an order known as The Legion of Keepers to help prevent magic—and creatures—from leaking into this dimension.

Anna was also a bit annoyed that her plans tonight were now canceled because of this supposed eclipse. She had really been looking forward to watching Dan’s band play their first official gig. Maybe she could pop in just for a second? It’s not like anyone would know, and Biggley’s was on her normal patrol route.

“Anna?” Dan repeated for the third time. He had been trying to get her attention to ask her about his gig tonight while she was trying to figure out how to do her job and be there for her only friend.


“Are you alright?”

“Of course,” Anna gave the artsy brunette a smile and sipped her coffee casually.

Dan gave the blonde a curious look then continued. “Do you think you could come to my flat around five and help us with our look? Nate said to go for a causal bad ass look, but Jamie wants to try a punk theme. I fear only you can talk them into showing up looking normal.”

Nate and Jamie, Dan’s band mates, often fought over the band’s look–even though Anna thought their different styles complimented the bands personality. Their original music varied so why shouldn’t their wardrobe choices? Her mom was a renown local fashion guru so naturally Dan’s band took her word on fashion as gospel. Anna’s fashion sense was pretty much the only thing Anna could thank her mother for.

Anna chuckled. “Sure, just as long as you leave the red cowboy boots in your closet where they belong.”

“Hey!” Dan snapped sarcastically, “I pull those off and you know it!”

Anna merely rolled her eyes, “Whatever helps you sleep at night babe.”

Anna’s apple watch began to flash letting her know someone was trying to call her. The blonde gave Dan an apologetic look and got to her feet. She took her phone call outside in the crisp autumn air.

“Speak to me,” she said rebelliously knowing that such words would drive her caller bananas.

“Honestly, Anna,” said Fredderick, a serious but kind Keeper, “I’m your handler not your companion.”

“You know that hurts my feelings, Fred. Why do you hate me so?” Anna could hear the Keeper’s eyes roll and she smirked in triumph.

“The Legion is gathering. There has been a…change in protocol.”

“A change in protocol?” Anna echoed. Those were three words the blonde never thought she’d hear, ever. The legion was very strict and has been following the same rules set forth by the original keepers since the dark ages.

“That’s what I said. You really must be present. Missing another meeting will not look good to the assembly and between you and me your mother isn’t in a good mood today.”

Anna peered in at Dan through the coffee shop window, a sad looking falling over her eyes. “Alright, fine,” she said. “I’ll be there in twenty, but I have plans at five and I do not intend to cancel.”

“My mom is throwing a major tantrum over a missing dress design.” Anna told Dan as she reentered the coffee shop, rolling her eyes for dramatic effect.

“Have fun,” Dan mused, his eyes still on his morning paper.

Anna shook her head at her friend and called, “See you at five!” over her shoulder just before she shoved the coffee shop door open and ran across the street to her car.


A Father’s Hands


Hands that hold, hands that protect.

Hands worn, torn and sunburned from months spent in the deserts of the Middle East yet still so gentle.

Cuticles caked with permanent grime. Nails cracked and stained with the blood of his fellow soldiers, never even bothering to fiddle with gloves; hands that possessed a certain delicacy as they plunged into broken, bleeding, dying bodies in a desperate attempt to save a life.

This delicacy, this tenderness, is found only in hands that often hold the little hands of a child—a father’s hands. Of course, such gentle hands went unnoticed in such a horrid place as was war, but it was this tender touch that often gave dying soldiers one last piece of comfort as they closed their eyes and finally found peace.

Despite the horror these hands had touched, they were never harsh. For hands that had known so much death, they couldn’t stand to be anything but loving when holding the little hands of children.

Strong, kind hands forever tattooed with the horrors of war never allowed such things to impede their ability to love. Hands that never shook outwardly with fear; hands that had been taught to fight yet never razed a loved one’s cheek. Uncontrolling, careful, encouraging hands seeking only to guide—to love.

Hands that tell a story of fear, despair, loss and bloodshed yet still a story of unconditional love. The story of a father’s hands. The story of my father’s hands.


This is a small piece I wrote for my school’s newspaper inspired by an in class conversation about hands. Hands are one of the first thing I look at when I meet people, they say a lot about who they belong to. My own father has really rough skin, but gentle hands. He has five girls and despite having been a cop and in the military for forty years he is the most gentle person I know. He even braids hair! (I may have mentioned this before, but don’t tell him I told any of you this!)

This is just the first of many small creative pieces I have for you!



Also posted on My Trending Stories!

I’m now on My Trending Stories!

I am excited to announce that I will be posting on the blogging site My Trending Stories! This of course means I have to be more diligent in my blogging escapades and actually post two to three times a week but it will be fun to read the other posts on the site.

And of course the minute I sit down to write my first post for the site I’m over come with a horrible case of writers block. Usually I’m filled with loads blogging and creative writing ideas by the time I get home from my day job(s), but not today. No, because I needed to be productive I have absolutely nothing to write about. Zip. Zilch. Nada.


Any how, feel free to watch me make a fool of myself on the internet as I pretend to be a bad ass blogger with loads of things to say. I will probably start cross posting all my posts on both sites and I’ll upload links to my twitter and Facebook.

Wish me luck WildeKat’s!